Archive for the ‘History of Ideas’ Category

Those of us who oppose allowing Internet service providers to impose tolls on users wanting to use higher broadband transmission speeds are rowing upstream.  This is not only because powerful interests—among them, AT&T, Verizon, and cable companies—want to exploit U.S. policy’s current treatment of Internet access as a commercial commodity, rather than a public utility.

We are also rowing upstream because we are caught in a seemingly inexorable current spreading proprietary capture of the public sphere, a current that has flown with increasing amplitude through Washington since the 1980’s. This is the first of three interrelated posts examining the continuing private enclosure of the public ‘commons’ in this country.

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Shane, Jack Schaefer’s much loved 1949 novel, was brought to movie theaters in 1953 by George Stevens and starred Alan Ladd.  The film was inspired by the Johnson County, Wyoming range war of 1892.   That conflict, which required the U.S. Cavalry to ‘resolve,’ climaxed years of violence among the region’s homesteaders, owners of open ranging cattle, and ranchers who unfurled barbed wires for miles to keep those cattle out.

We now find ourselves in the midst of a new enclosure movement.  While not lending itself to novels and films, it is changing this country’s political economy in ways no less historic and profound.  Unlike prairie grass, what is being enclosed is invisible.  Its absence is unlikely to be missed until the political, cultural, and economic consequences of its loss are felt.

Slowly being enclosed behind proprietary fences today is public information necessary to policy debate.  Paralleling this new enclosure is the gradual proprietary capture of publicly developed intellectual capital vital to our material progress.   With the election in 1980 of Ronald Reagan the nation transitioned from a democracy of citizens toward “monetized democracy,” a transition implicit in  the widespread and generally bi-partisan belief that democracy and free-market capitalism are mutually inseparable.   The currency of this new political economy is information.

Since the mid-20th century public access to government information in the United States has been protected by ‘sunshine’ or open-access laws.  Their foundations were laid in the 1940s during the federal government’s rapid expansion in response to the demands of the Great Depression and World War II.  Ten years in the making, the Administrative Procedures Act of 1946 sought to ensure openness and transparency in the operations of dozens of federal agencies.

The Freedom of Information Act of 1966 (et. seq.), which began life as an amendment to the 1946 legislation, has served as a model for similar state laws.  A companion measure, the Federal Advisory Committee Act (FACA) of 1972, arose from fears first voiced in the 1950s that industry groups and well-heeled political donors were capturing policy-making behind closed doors in secret federal ‘advisory committee’ meetings.

That such fears were justified was publicized in 2002 when the press reported that 18 of the energy industry’s 25 most generous donors to the 2000 Republican presidential campaign met with Vice-President Cheney’s energy task force, which subsequently produced a supply-side energy policy favoring more oil and gas drilling, along with construction of well over a thousand electric plants powered largely by coal.[i] A federal appeals court ruling in May, 2005 accepted Cheney’s argument that the FACA did not apply to Cheney’s visitors from the oil, coal and gas industries, who were not technically members of the energy task force.

In an earlier FACA case involving the Clinton administration’s National Health Care Reform task force, the White House asserted that the FACA did not apply to its meetings because “the working group was so massive, fluid, and disorganized, that it lacked the structure, organization, and fixed membership that are essential to a FACA committee.”[ii] In 1994, before the federal district court could try the case, the White House mooted it by publicly releasing all the working group documents.  In both instances technical readings or applications of the FACA weakened the ostensible intent of the law, which was to reduce the disproportionate power of insiders to influence the shaping of policy choices.

The belief that greater “sunshine” over the operations of government would ensure greater participation in policy-making has turned out to be naive.  The effectiveness of the FOIA and the FACA at ensuring openness is necessarily limited, since government lawyers’ clients have deeper pockets than most “sunshine” litigants—unless they happen to be large institutions not favored by the current administration—and are well-equipped to argue government secrecy cases on technicalities (e.g., when is a First Lady a federal employee?).  And there is always the possibility that the government will settle a case without acknowledging wrong, and insist on a silencing “gag” order on plaintiffs in a settlement.  To paraphrase former Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld,  “we will never know what we didn’t know or don’t now know.”

Yet powerful commercial or political interests have no monopoly on subverting openness in the conduct of the people’s business, or imaginative ways in doing so.  In 1997 the Supreme Court let stand a lower court ruling that the 600-odd advisory committees operated by the federally chartered National Academy of Sciences are not subject to the FACA.  Yet most, of the Academy’s work is funded primarily by tax dollars through contracts with federal agencies, much of which is accomplished by convening and operating advisory committees of scientific experts. (The definition of ‘advisory committee’ rests on its non-operational or non-executive functions.)

The Academy argued—as do most claims for exemption from the FACA’s open meeting requirement—that advisors must feel free to give candid advice to the President and government officials.  Many observers accept this argument—thus revealing the extent to which the precept of ‘attorney-client privilege’ has migrated into government officialdom, which is historically rich in attorneys.[iii]

But one must ask:  Setting aside genuinely private or national security matters, what sort of knowledge necessary for informed government action should not, could not, or ought not, be made public?  Are we citizens not the ultimate clients for any substantive policy discussions occurring in our name?  What ethical or judicial code enshrines the notion that candor and honesty require concealment?

This trend has also been accompanied by the enclosure of a democracy’s other essential asset:  the proprietary capture of public intellectual capital.  (See following post, The New Enclosure-Part II).


[i] Don van Natta, Jr. and Neela Banarjee, “Top G,O,P, donors in Energy Industry Met Cheney Panel,” New York Times (March 1, 2002); Abramowitz, Michael; Steven Mufson, “Papers Detail Industry’s Role in Cheney’s Energy Report,” Washington Post (July 18, 2007).

[ii] “Association of American Physicians and Surgeons, Inc. et. Al. v. Clinton, et. Al., 989 F. Supp. 8 (D.D.C. 1997), FACA Case Digest, Federal Interagency Databases Online, downloaded January 4, 2009.

[iii] In a partial victory for the public, legislative language consistent with the FACA provided by Rep. Henry A. Waxman (D-CA) specified that the Academy would still be expected to publish the names of committee members, avoid conflicts of interest among committee members, and ensure that a balance of interests is represented on its committees.

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Why The Liberal Arts?

 

It’s difficult to hear a discussion of education in the United States without being reminded of the urgency of increasing students’ proficiency in ‘STEM’ (science, technology, engineering and math) disciplines.  This, we learn, is necessary to secure their competitiveness in a technology-driven job market.  What is too rarely pointed out is that a primary purpose of technological innovation is to reduce labor costs, i.e., reduce jobs.  “New” technologies do not necessarily do an adequate job of replacing the jobs lost from obsolete industries.

We have been here before.  During the 1950s and 1960s, besting the Soviet Union in the “space race” required thousands of well-trained engineers.  That we had such individuals was a result not of STEM education campaigns, but GI-bill education benefits designed to soften the impact on unemployment by demobilized service men and women.

The National Defense Education Act of 1958 boosted college attendance from 15% to 40% in all disciplines, with results that are as interesting to social historians as to presidents of colleges and universities who have struggled to sustain the rapid campus expansions of the 1960s and 1970s.

Then, in the early 1980s, we were once again consumed by fears of national decline when faced with growing industrial powerhouses in formerly ‘foreign’ places, e.g., Japan—a fear well documented by David Halberstam’s The Reckoning (1986).  The Reagan administration, only a few months into its first term, appointed a National Commission on Excellence in Education which, in August of 1981, released “A Nation at Risk: The Imperative for Educational Reform.”

The report begins: “Our Nation is at risk. Our once unchallenged preeminence in commerce, industry, science, and technological innovation is being overtaken by competitors throughout the world.”  Less well remembered is the report’s emphasis on disciplines other than STEM, disciplines that lie at the heart of a liberal arts education:

“Our concern, however, goes well beyond matters such as industry and commerce. . . .  For our country to function, citizens must be able to reach some common understandings on complex issues, often on short notice and on the basis of conflicting or incomplete evidence. . . .  Indicators of the risk [include] . . . About 13 percent of all 17-year-olds in the United States can be considered functionally illiterate [while] nearly 40 percent cannot draw inferences from written material;  only one-fifth can write a persuasive essay.”

And now we have the results of a study, conducted by the American Association of Colleges and Universities and National Center for Higher Education Management Systems, released this week, of the education and occupation of 3 million US residents between the ages of 21 and 65.  Comparing the “earnings trajectories and career pathways” of majors in the liberal arts with those from STEM and professional or pre-professional fields, the study found that not only does a college degree matter, but that “at peak earnings ages (56-60)” liberal arts majors earn on average more than those who majored in the other fields.  What’s more, unemployment is lower among mature workers who were liberal arts majors.

This study, based on 2010-2011 census data, confirms what many of us have learned from experience: ordinary social skills and technical preparation may get a young adult through the gate, but they will not equip him or her to stay the course.  That is because a lifetime of work and living is full of change—personal and historical.  Success in living and working requires a well-furnished imagination; empathy for the many different ‘others’ with whom we will need to cooperate;  a grasp of the power of aesthetic pleasure of all kinds;  and a full command of at least one language enabling us to be articulate in a complete and accurate way.

These attributes come primarily from immersion in the liberal arts, a microcosm of a universe where syntax and a rich vocabulary matter not because of “correct form,” but because they build meaning, and meaning matters.  A few years out of a lifetime spent in the study of good writing, be it fiction or expository prose;  of social and political philosophies and systems;  of aesthetics made manifest in the arts; and, most of all, of the rich storehouse of human experience captured in our history, has been demonstrated, once again, to be time well spent.

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A recent proposal by Federal Communications Commission (FCC) chairman, Julius Genachowski, would recover some of the country’s little used radio and TV broadcast radio spectrum in order to create a national public wireless (WiFi) network.  Telecommunications companies, which make money selling data plans to enable smart phone and Wi-Fi computer users to access the Internet, are lobbying against the proposal.

Such a network would, of course, be a boon for countless small businesses and Internet-linked technology developers, not to mention the rest of us.  But Chairman Gnachowski’s  proposal also rests on sound historical and policy precedents.

By international law the federal government is responsible for the private as well as public use within the U.S. of the global radio spectrum—which does not “belong” to anyone any more than the sky or the oceans belong to anyone, not even to “job creators” in the telecom industry.

The digital electronic impulses that bring text and images to the screens of our smart phones and Wi-Fi enabled computers are similar to the analog electromagnetic impulses that Samuel Morse tapped out to send the first telegraph in 1844.  Today those digital electronic information “packets” can travel beyond the wires and cables around and above us, carried into remote places by the invisible radio wave spectrum that encircles our globe.

The need for public regulation of the use of radio waves first became obvious in 1912, when radio communications following the Titanic’s distress signals on the night of April 14 were confused, if not unintelligible, thanks to the swarm of amateur radio operators busily working the airwaves.   Within a year the Congress had established (with the Radio Act of 1912) that the federal government would regulate both wire-line and wire-less communications, a principle which has stood firm for over a century of statutory action and judicial decision-making.

Those of us who do not yet use the Internet with mobile devices may be tempted to dismiss these increasingly ubiquitous gadgets as fads, high-end toys for grown-ups and over-indulged children.  But there is little that we do today that does not at some point involve the use of devices relying on the radio spectrum, from automatic garage door openers to cell phones to the remote controls for our television sets.

More importantly, radio waves provide the essential ‘highways’ to every location for the transmission of news, information, electronic libraries, educational programming, remote medical and research data, and only lastly entertainment.  Once upon a time radio waves sent the news to listeners gathered around brown bakelite boxes.  Millions more now receive over the air the electronic data that produce text and graphics on their touch screens.  And as the technology gets cheaper millions more will join the touch screen world.  The telecommunications industry—AT&T, Verizon, T-Mobile, and others—knows this.

But so does the FCC.  The Internet was built with public funds, for the use of all Americans.  Unless all Americans are able to use it, the open public forum that has served democracy by offering a platform and audience for free speech will become enclosed by proprietary technological and monetary barriers.

The Internet is not intellectually inert.  Each webpage contains information and images selected for it by its website ‘builders,’ people who also decide which links to further—and possibly contrary or controversial—information will be included, or not.  Our best assurance of an Internet that disseminates a continual conversation of new as well as old voices, rather than an ongoing chorus of the like-minded, is a genuinely publicly accessible Wi-Fi network.

Like the operators of all public utilities, Wi-Fi operators will need to receive reasonable compensation as incentives for efficiency and innovation.  But you and I, not industry CEOs, should decide what is reasonable.

The big telecommunications companies will be spending bundles of money to persuade us—and lawmakers—that Wi-Fi is a commercial service coupled to their commercial products, access to which should be priced in the marketplace.  And they will be wrong.

 

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Senator Rubio’s Mistake

An astronomer writing in Slate recently takes Senator Marco Rubio (R-Fla.) to task for being unable (or unwilling?) to give the astronomers’ answer to a reporter’s question, posed during a press interview, about the age of the Earth.  After noting that the question has nothing to do with the proper subject of the interview, Rubio responds that the Earth’s age is a “mystery,” and that some believe the Biblical account of the Earth’s creation.

Not only is the hapless Senator a member of the Senate’s Commerce, Science and Technology Committee (and therefore he should have basic scientific facts on the tip of his tongue), but as a member of Congress he should know the age of the Earth because “all of our industry, all of our technology, everything that keeps our country functioning at all can be traced back to scientific research and a scientific understanding of the universe.”

Set aside the question of whether the astronomer has, on the tip of his tongue, the number identifying the next Congress (which will also be of great import to the nation, and the number is 113-1).  His argument is such a caricature of the rhetoric the science establishment trots out to appeal for funding increases that he does the cause of public support for scientific research a disservice.

Being able to remember a number (especially out of context) is hardly a sign of intelligence, character, wisdom or civic virtue, as Albert Einstein was not the first to remind us.  What’s more, beyond such accumulated physical facts as the contents of the periodic table or the boiling point of water, any scientific knowledge that cannot be replicated under laboratory conditions is dependent on the circumstances of its discovery.

Historians and philosophers of science, at least since Karl Popper, have convincingly demonstrated the contingency of most scientific “truths.”  Nor has the total reliance  of the economy and technological growth on scientific research been substantiated by decades of research in economic growth and business history.  Indeed, there have been instances when scientific research depended upon technological innovation, as in the cases of optics and computational machinery.  The relationship between science and technology is iterative, while much of technological innovation is due as much to economic “pull” as to scientific “push.”

While I am no fan of Sen. Rubio, the notion that science is the only form of “intelligence” worth our pursuit or admiration represents an appalling poverty of learning.   Those who believe that the Bible contains a literally true history of our world lack the gift of metaphor, and for that they are to be pitied more than ridiculed.

A starry sky on a clear winter Maine night is a wondrous thing to behold; so also is an infant’s first true smile.  If forced to choose, we should chose the smile.

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Why Dieting is Hard for Uncle Sam

Whether devout or passionate, “severe” conservatives (as republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney styled himself), assert a belief that the private sector should command all economic activity, while the public sector is reduced to as close to nothing as possible.  Here is Mr. Romney on his rival Rick Santorum: “Sen. Santorum is a nice guy, but he’s never had a job in the private sector.”

The federal government has been the target of conservative politicians since before the public sector’s rapid growth after World War II. The wonder is that after six post-war republican presidents, four of whom were reelected for a second term, the campaign against government has been so unsuccessful that republican candidates today still invoke it as proof of their ideological identity and resolve.

But we should not wonder: There is no more reality behind the rhetorical campaign against the public sector than there is behind one campaign enthusiast’s warning that “the government had better keep its hands off of my Medicare.”  Were it not for the federal government, numerous companies, forced to depend on the private sector’s ‘free market,’ would become mere shadows of their former selves.

Since the 1960s federal policy–supported by both parties–has required all federal agencies to procure their necessary goods and services from the private sector.  The result has been an “iron triangle:” The flow of federal procurement dollars from (a) executive branch agencies through contracts and grants to (b) private sector firms and organizations is protected by (c) members of congress, whose bill writing chores are alleviated by corporate lobbyists–many of whom were once members of congress themselves.  To observe the iron triangle at work, spend a few evenings with the on-line Federal Procurement Data System (https://www.fpds.gov) and OpenSecrets.org, which tracks money in politics.

Nine state congressional delegations sent more than two members to join the newly formed Tea Party Caucus in 2010: California, Florida, Georgia, Kansas, Louisiana, Missouri, South Carolina, Tennessee, and Texas.  If these states’ delegations were able to satisfy their Tea Party constituents by dramatically shrinking the federal government, what would happen?  All of them would probably come to regret it, because their constituents typically receive more dollars from the federal government than they pay to it in federal taxes.

In 2009 all of these states received at least than 20% more than they paid Uncle Sam in taxes the following year. South Carolina received the most, or169% more. Of all the Tea Party states Texas, for all its patriotism, received the smallest percentage of federal dollars in 2009 in excess of what it paid in 2010 (20%).

What was all that money spent on?  The largest amount of federal funds distributed among the states consisted of procurements and grants.  Federal contracts and grants in 2009 amounted to $1.3 trillion pumped back into the private sector.

Among the Tea Party caucus states, California’s private sector benefited from over $64 billion in contracts. Texas received slightly over half that much in federal contracts ($35 billion), while $17.5 billion went to Florida.  Missouri and Tennessee received more than $10 billion each.  The private sector in the remaining Tea Party caucus states (South Carolina, Georgia, Louisiana, and Kansas)  received between $8 billion and $2.5 billion in federal contracts each.  (Maine received $1.4 billion in 2009.)

When members of congress play by the rules laid out in the Pendleton Act (1883) and the Procurement Integrity Act (1988), they do not lobby for individual businesses.  But there is another way they can ensure that public sector dollars help support the private sector at home: Maintain or increase appropriations to those federal programs that award contracts to their constituents’ businesses.

So, vote to shrink the federal government if that makes you feel good.  But once our victorious candidates learn how and where our tax dollars get spent, their energies wander to other urgent national concerns, returning to the size of government only when the TV cameras reappear.


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The Matthew Effect *

Whatever else the “Occupy” movement accomplishes, it has already popularized the fact–known for a decade to those who pay attention to such things–that the rich in the U.S. are getting richer, while the chasm between them and nearly everyone else is becoming wider, really wider.

The Concise Encyclopedia of Economics notes that “the most careful studies suggest that the top 10 percent of households, with average income of about $200,000, received 42 percent of allpretax money income in the late 1990s.  The top 1 percent of households, averaging $800,000 of income, received 15 percent of all pretax money income.”

Meanwhile, economic mobility–the ‘American dream’–has diminished compared to the promise of increased wealth awaiting our peers in Canada and many Western European countries.  Most jobs now being offered in the U.S. feature lower salaries and wages, fewer if any health benefits, and rarely pensions.

Every pundit has someone or something to blame, as if what this country is experiencing is contrary to nature, an alien blight on our divinely pre-ordained “city on a hill.”  Let the business cycle do its thing, those who have not yet lost their incomes hopefully urge us; let the free market do its thing, aspiring politicians from the right implore us; let research and innovation restore us to prosperity for all, many on the left advise.  But, alas, we are in this pickle precisely because the business cycle, the free market, and technological innovation have been doing their thing.  Whether their destructive consequences are ‘creative’ for the long term, or in a fashion we can accept, remains to be seen.

From the get-go the purpose of technological innovation has been to reduce the cost of production, of which labor is among the largest and least tractable, with or without factories and unions.  Yearly cornucopias of new products to incite consumer spending are at bottom a promise of less work and more play.  Technological innovation today is splendid for innovators, and for entrepreneurs, and for patent attorneys, and for those who package IPO’s.  But it does not create jobs for the multitudes because the technology-driven industrial revolution is behind us.  Adam Smith, who wrote the script for American economic expansion (The Wealth of Nations, 1776), could not have foreseen our post-industrial economy.

Possibly the most powerful natural force leading to a growing chasm between the few rich and a shrinking middle class was recognized two millennia ago by the apostle Matthew, whose ‘day job’ was collecting taxes.  Matthew describes the disparate fortunes of those servants of the Lord who multiply their talents and those who do not: “For unto every one that hath shall be given, and he shall have abundance: but from him that hath not shall be taken away even that which he hath.”[Matthew 28:29]

Two millennia later the sociologist Robert Merton would attribute professional recognition among Nobel laureates to the “Matthew Effect,” a psycho-sociological process having less to do with scientific merit, and more to do with a natural human attraction to success and abhorrence of failure.  The world of sports, where the playing field should be the final arbiter of merit at any given moment, has evolved “winner take all” victories, as if that makes the contest more rewarding to spectators.  And it probably does.

Like the miracle of compound interest, cumulative achievement multiplies the possibilities for greater success.  The rewards for winning early can be enormous over a lifetime, while the human and social costs of early failures may never be overcome.  ‘Winner take all’ triumphs in business (e.g. Microsoft, Google), the advantage of incumbency in our politics and the workings of the US electoral college system, and the cumulative gains from an educational ‘head start’–life is rich with examples of the “Matthew effect” at work.

Whether or not it is a good thing indefinitely for the few to reap rewards vastly out of proportion to their merit and due, while increasing numbers struggle to survive, depends on who is defining the ‘good.’  Sooner or later, however, we will arrive at a tipping point when–as in 1789, 1848 and 1917–defining the ‘good’ will have become an academic exercise.

* (This article first appeared in the Portland Press Herald for January 18, 2012)

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Berlin: Then and Now, Part I

On the wall in my writing area is a small black and white photo of two adults dressed in 1940’s era clothes.  The woman wears a dark dress with a large white scalloped collar.  Her head is crowned with a rakish hat.  He wears a double-breasted suit and a fedora.  She smiles proudly.  His serious expression seems about to break into a smile.

Between them, clutching her grandparents’ hands, stands a little girl of about three in a pigtails, squinting at the sun.  To their side standing guard is a chow dog.  His name is Teddy.  Gifted as he was with  a dog’s keen sense of its surroundings, a few years later Teddy will be the one to notify the family,  with a nudge and a whimper, that the grandfather, lying in his sickbed, has died.

The little group is standing on the sidewalk of what is a broad European boulevard, once flanked by elegant houses and shops and busy with pedestrians.  But now this boulevard is virtually barren of other people or vehicles, or anything at all except paving and the unadorned fronts of buildings that stare at the camera with dark, empty spaces where there had been windows.

This is Kurfurstendamm,  Berlin’s Fifth Avenue, in 1947.  When World War II ended for Germany in May of 1945, 75-85% of the city had been destroyed by Allied carpet bombing.   Roughly 40,000 tons of shells fell on Berlin in the last 14 days before surrender on May 7, 1945, a bombardment of civilian targets that gives ‘gratuitous’ a whole new meaning.  Few living then or now would accept that the devastation, German civilian deaths (estimated at 2.5 million, primarily from “collateral fatalities” and the famine of 1945-46) were sufficient penance for the horrors inflicted upon many more millions by the Nazis and their morally obtuse followers.   Some tragedies are beyond the scope of “healing”  or “closure,” the brass coins we toss into the murky waters of our human cruelties.

The grandfather in the photo could remember an earlier time in Berlin at the threshold of World War I.  “Berlin,” wrote Barbara Tuchman in The Proud Tower (1962) was “the natural enemy of Munich and Bavaria.”  Germans from the south thought Berliners cynical and depraved.   The city was either loved or despised as the New York City of central Europe, and for comparable reasons: It was a center of intellectual and cultural life, much of it nourished by Jewish scholars and artists, a crossroads of cultures, and leftist politics.

During the 1920s, before Hitler’s ascent to power, Berlin was the center of a renaissance described by Otto Friedrich in  Before the Deluge (1972). Some of the century’s most gifted figures in the arts and intellectual life–men and women like Sol Hurok, Artur Schnabel, Rudolf Serkin, Yehudi Menuhin and the Zionist and civil rights leader Rabbi Joachim Prinz, who were driven out by the Nazis—remembered the city with affection and sadness.

To see some of the grandfather’s pre-World War I Berlin,  today’s visitor can wander into the Maerkisches  Museum.  This neo-Gothic red brick structure stands beside a quiet garden on the banks of the Spree River.  It resembles a church,  with its huge square red-brick tower startling passersby when it first appears between the trees.   Once inside one might hear the bell, accompanied by the deep rumbling sound of wooden wheels rolling over stone, that announces another step in the gradual rotation of a large circular stereopticon.  Its elaborately carved red mahogany cabinetry nearly fills the room.  At each of the  several individual viewing positions spaced evenly around its sides  a visitor can sit and peer  at 25 successive  ‘3-D’ photographs of the urban bustle and ceremonial traffic of Berlin during its own ‘gilded age’ at the end of the 19th century.  In one image a young man in a homburg hat appears to have stepped suddenly into the foreground as if to speak to the viewer.

Also astonishing in its immediacy is the face of a life-sized wooden figure of the Virgin Mary standing in the museum’s great hall.  She is surrounded by the mute company of other wooden medieval figures.  Her face is unlike most of the other faces one sees on the countless medieval sculptures populating western Europe’s historic places, for this young woman beams an affectionate, this-worldly radiance.  With her relaxed posture, she seems an icon  released into life.  There she stands, balanced at the far edge of medieval Catholicism,  welcoming the coming of Christian humanism and the northern Renaissance.

It in no way disparages the Maerkisches Museum to observe that its medieval religious carvings and delightful stereopticon, capturing for posterity the busy Potsdamer Platz of the first capital of the German Empire (1871-1918), intimate the intellectual prelude to the Third Reich.  They are like a theater’s scrim.  Absent illumination they conceal the ideas which, given the right historical moment, would play out as among the millenium’s greatest tragedies.

For all the intellectual emancipation from early Christian dogma and Papal authority that Europe experienced during the 16th and 17th centuries, and for all the liberalization of intellectual life during the Enlightenment, European Jews were not relieved of their stigma as enemies of Christianity. Driven out of England, France and Germany in the 14th and 15th centuries,  eventual emancipation came to them in much of Europe only in the decades after the French revolution.  Not until after German unification in 1871 did emancipation finally came to Germany’s Jews.  The decades of cultural and economic assimilation that followed came to naught, however.  Germany’s defeat in World War I and fear of Bolshevism after the Russian Revolution provided new pretexts for  a revival of virulent anti-semitism.

Compounding cultural stereotypes that became so perilous for Germany’s Jews was the doctrine of the mystical “state,” a political doctrine that the young man staring back at us at the Maerkisches Museum would have learned at the University of Berlin.  There, students (including American students for whom a German doctorate was de rigueur) learned from the heirs of G.W.F. Hegel that humans are destined by history to strive toward an ideal unity embodied in political form.  There could be no individual identity outside of a historically transcendent cultural, ethnic and political nationality.  The step from this mystical and all encompassing view of human destiny to Aryan exceptionalism and imperialism was short indeed.

But as American pragmatism taught, ideas have consequences, and can be known by them.  The horrendous consequences of Germany’s intoxication with the notion of its Aryan destiny are memorialized in Berlin in an array of  2,700 unmarked concrete plinths of various sizes, set in orderly rows on undulating pavement.  Beneath the assemblage of slabs, which covers the area of a small city block near the Brandenburg Gate, is a small museum with exhibits illustrating the Holocaust.

Although the absence of markings  on the slabs  is deliberate, lest the memorial appear to be a cemetery, some—walking thoughtfully through it—might recall the old Jewish cemetery in Prague.  And others,  very young and less wise and affected, have found it a perfect place to play hide and seek.  Berlin is full of ironies, and this is certainly one:  Survival for millions of European Jews was in fact a most deadly game of hide and seek.

Communities finding themselves alien in a world in which they are “not like us” can be torn, as they struggle for survival, between assimilation and separateness.  It is this which the concrete slabs of Berlin’s Holocaust Memorial, opened in 2005 after much controversy, seem to represent most of all.  Architecturally it is utterly out of place among the more conventionally modern or rebuilt Wilhelmine structures that surround it.   At the same time the rows of similar (though not identical) slabs are nameless, faceless, characterless.

Also architecturally out of place is Berlin’s Jewish Museum, but its dramatic design is far more eloquent.  The building tells its own tale of discontinuities in its dramatic zig-zag outlines—a feature that is retained in the shapes of its windows and  interior spaces.   Its underground corridors, sudden voids,  irregularly shaped rooms,  and Garden of Exile with tilted stelae blanketed in vines and olive trees are the perfect architectural setting for the story the building tells.  In its exhibits visitors can see and contemplate the shards of the history of a remarkable people, a story of life and loss, again and again.  Daniel Libeskind’s extraordinary building shares nothing with the Maerkisches Museum—except its foundations.

(Please continue to Berlin, Then and Now:  Part II)

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Berlin, Then and Now: Part II

The tourist buses that unload passengers at the Pergamon Museum and Check Point Charlie rarely stop at the Maerkisches Ufer (quay) of the Spree Canal.  Here reign peace and quiet accompanied by the gentle slip slap of water on the sides of old river barges.  Showing their age, a few barges have been turned by enterprising owners into  small ‘museums.’  Along the ufer a pair of restored neo-classical urban villas bears further witness to the bustling prosperity captured in the stereoscopic images at the Maerkisches Museum.

If one has only one day of beautiful weather to spend in this city, spend it on one of the low-slung passenger boats that chug along  the city’s canals and  encircling Spree and Havel rivers.  For six centuries these waterways, spanned today by hundreds of bridges, were Berlin’s  veins and arteries.  There may be no finer way to glimpse the vagaries of Berlin’s history since its beginnings in the  13th century as a trading center on the north bank of the Spree River.

A boat cruise around the city offers a slowly moving window onto its many neighborhoods–residential, governmental, commercial, rich and poor.  Here, the overflowing trees, shrubs, and flowers of a neglected garden at the back of a villa.  There, the dreary walls of a factory and workers’ housing.   But suddenly, as your boat chugs past the Mendelssohn-Bartholdy park and passes under the Schoeneberger bridge, there in front of you suspended in mid-air from a crane over the German Museum of Technology, is a Douglas C-47 military cargo plane (DC-3 in civilian usage).  The twin-engine aircraft initiated the flights—one every three minutes—of the British and American life line to Berlin after the Soviet Union,  whose post-war zone of occupation included the city, closed off land access on June 24, 1948.

Almost overnight the western allies’ strategic objective of utterly destroying Germany was turned on its head.  Resisting that other horrific would-be hegemon of the mid-twentieth century, the Soviet Union (1922-1991) under Stalin, upturned U.S. military and diplomatic planning.   Berlin would become a beacon of freedom in the long gray twilight that settled over Eurasia during the Cold War.

Where only a few years before aircraft overhead released a fiery apocalypse, now western allied aircraft alone would supply the food, coal and kerosene the city’s people needed merely to stay alive.   This time  modern technology played the essential role in sustaining life,  instead of raining death and destruction.  It cannot be said of all things, “this too, shall pass.”  But it could have been said of the Gӧtterdӓmmerung that occurred over Berlin at the end of World War II.

Berliners called them “rosinenbombers,” or raisin bombers.   Along with Great Britain’s RAF Handley Page Hastings transport aircraft, the US Air Force’s Douglas C-54 (successor to the C-47) ferried well over 5,000 tons  daily of food and fuel into Berlin from June 24, 1948 until September, 1949.  (Though the Soviets abandoned their unsuccessful blockade in May, the western allies continued to build up supplies in the beleaguered city.)  In all kinds of weather heavily loaded cargo planes flew back and forth through three 20-mile wide air corridors between British and American bases in their respective zones of occupation and two hastily repaired air fields in western Allied-occupied sectors of Berlin.

Romance confers the greatest heroism on the pilots and their aircraft.  But the truly miraculous was achieved by the mostly anonymous magicians of logistics. The organization and improvised equipment necessary to load, take-off, pilot, land, unload, and service over 275,000 flights at the rate of one every three minutes was unprecedented. Wal-Mart, FedEx and United Parcel today would be unable to function without the electronic data exchange systems developed during the Berlin airlift to ensure that every bundle of coal and package of dry milk, flour, sugar, pasta, coffee, chocolates and (of course) raisins was collected, inventoried, assigned, loaded, dispatched, flown, unloaded, warehoused and delivered as intended.

On an autumn day one can walk down Clayallee, once the busy central thoroughfare of the American sector in Berlin, virtually alone.  The avenue is named for General Lucius D. Clay, military governor of the American sector of Berlin and, with President Harry S. Truman, responsible for what was a perilous challenge to the Soviet Union in the early hours of the Cold War.  Only an occasional bicycle, tradesman’s van, or private car disturbs the quiet of what is now an affluent residential neighborhood.

Walking from the nearest U-bahn station to the former Outpost theater where GI’s gathered—and which is now the Allied Museum—one might almost miss the somewhat overgrown marble block engraved with Truman’s name, indicating an abandoned park and playing field.  A few steps further the calm of this place is interrupted by the sight of four horses, frozen in bronze, leaping over chunks of a broken wall.  This monument to the collapse of the Berlin Wall in 1989 marks the second time for this city that the political acumen of a few, and the patient persistence of millions, overcame on an historic scale the powerful forces of a malign autocracy.

At the entrance to the Allied Museum stands one of the RAF’s Hastings aircraft.  Compared with today’s regional aircraft, it seems small, though its burden multiplied thousands of times was huge.  The museum itself is dimly lit and lovingly tended.  Hordes of tourists throng the “Checkpoint Charlie” guard house on Friedrichstrasse to have their photos taken with latter day ‘guards’ and buy tchotchkes in the shops that flank that historic street.  But to see the weather-worn original guard house one must find the Allied Museum.  Photographs, old letters and diaries, newsreels, recordings, historical timelines–all attempt to retain, for a moment, an ever receding vanishing point in our historical mindscape.

Thanks to the timeless and universal language of music, one needs no memory at all to treasure still one of the glories of Berlin, the Berlin Philharmonic, founded in 1882.  Nearly bankrupt in 1933, the orchestra managed to survive under Wilhelm Furtwängler only by performing music—Beethoven, Bruckner, and Wagner, among others—that Hitler considered emblematic of German genius and power.

Today the Berlin Philharmonic appears on every list of the world’s top orchestras.  It also performs in a building—the term seems inadequate for the extraordinary architectural composition of spatial sections that is its home concert hall—whose pentagonal interior offers excellent acoustics for virtually every seat in the house.  The 1956 Hans Sharoun design manifests another benign aspect of Germany’s recent history:  The outward appearance of the “Berlin Phil’s” own performance space has been liberated from any compulsion to perpetuate the grand architectural style of Wilhelmine Germany.

Also liberated is the orchestra’s programming.  A recent performance paired Alban Berg’s  only violin concerto with Shostakovich’s 8th symphony. Conducted by guest conductor Andris Nelsons, a Latvian, with his countrywoman Baiba Skride playing the Berg on the Stradivarius “Wilhelmj” violin, the performances earned conductor and soloist a long roar of clapping and shouts of praise that lasted until the performers had long gone and the stage lights had been extinguished. But that is what we have now come to expect, once again, from the Berlin Philharmonic.

When she was eleven the little girl from the photograph  made the first  of several return trips to Berlin from the United States, where she  was taken in the early weeks of the airlift.  Piles of rubble still lay here and there interspersed with dreary, hastily built, apartment blocks with shops on their first floors.  Streets were still fairly empty of private cars, as taxis, buses, and bicycles did the job of moving Berliners about.

Coming from a country where bicycles were then used mostly by children, she might have been forgiven during her visit for walking down a specially constructed and marked bicycle lane.  But a policeman strode up to her and, in a harsh voice, berated her for obstructing the bicycle lane.  From the high peak of his German officer’s service hat to the stiffness of his posture and the black shine of his boots, here was a terrifying reminder of an officially vanquished past.

Today Berlin’s streets are as busy as any other European capital’s, but Berliners still make good use of their wonderful bus, streetcar, and subway system.  On concert nights the city sends out extra buses to transport thousands of music lovers to their shrine, and to collect them afterwards to take them to wherever they might want to go.  Nor is the bus a poor man’s transportation.  Women and men in their best finery press themselves into the buses (queuing is not a German trait), and send up their own chorus of loudly voiced opinions about the concert.  Only the elegant Japanese ladies, dressed in traditional coiffure, kimonos, obis and geta, huddle together on the sidewalk as long black Mercedes limousines arrive to collect them.

Of course, after the concert one wants to be sure to wait at the right bus stop.  That same autumn day, before she goes into the hall to hear Berg and Shostakovich, another policeman approaches the little girl—only she is now over a half–century older.  This time he seems so young, wearing a loose fitting wind-breaker and ordinary brown leather street shoes.  A single side-arm is almost invisible at his hip. The stiffener is gone from his service hat.  Again, he speaks first:  “Excuse me, m’am; I forgot my watch.  Could you please tell me the time?”  Age emboldens many of us.  “Well,” she replies, “I’ll tell you the time, if you tell me where the 110 bus to Kurfurstendamm stops.”  He tells her; and she tell him that it’s 7:30.  He thanks her pleasantly, and she continues on her way.

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Shadowboxing

Political rhetoric thrives on fiction, so it should not surprise us that conservatives’ campaign to discredit progressivism–now in full flame during this mid-term election year–brandishes entirely illusory notions of “free market capitalism,” and its supposed enemy, the federal government.  It is a campaign that engages politicians, the media, and citizens who prefer vaporous illusions to grubby truths in a variety of shadow boxing that has distinguished American politics at least since the New Deal.

The coupling of ‘free market capitalism’ with public sector minimalism is one of the great fallacies of today’s debates over what to do to revive the nation’s economy.  Neither Adam Smith, architect of the free market economy in his Wealth of Nations (1776), nor his followers Richard Morris and Alexander Hamilton among this country’s ‘founding fathers’, argued that thriving ‘private sector’ commerce and strong government were mutually opposed.

Smith knew that we could not count on individuals scrambling for profits to grace us with the public goods that make profitable commercial enterprises possible.  Morris and Hamilton understood that a strong, centralized government was essential to the nation’s economic credibility in a world that–even then–was oiled by international finance.  And they understood that only a strong government could create and maintain the “veins of commerce” that give life to a national marketplace.

To appreciate the virtually sacred status of ‘the private sector’ for many Americans one has to recognize that private wealth has become for enterprising and hard working individuals what salvation once was to the pius: the reward for individual striving.  The sociologist Max Weber detected the affinity between individual salvation and private wealth in largely Protestant societies over a century ago.  A quasi-religious veneration of individual striving acquired its power to shape American politics from the near universal acceptance of social darwinism, seemingly verified by our successful expansion across the continent, and our rise to global hegemony in the 20th century.

Social darwinism (‘survival of the fittest’)–a social philosophy more accurately credited to Herbert Spencer–seeks to justify individual striving as necessary to the evolution of the species toward ever ‘higher’ forms (whatever they might be).  A more perfect example of the distortion of a scientific theory to serve a cultural bias can hardly be imagined.

Do individuals survive because they are more fit?  What is it to be ‘fit?’  If ‘fitness’ is adaptation to an environment, is ‘fitness’ necessarily strength, or greater intelligence?  For biological darwinists certain individuals prevail because of random and heritable genetic variations which enable them–again, randomly–to survive whatever environment happens to surround them. ‘Nature’ does not act on informed judgment, selecting survivors because they are stronger, smarter, or otherwise more ‘fit.’

Moreover, social darwinism leads its believers astray by promoting the notion that individual attributes suffice to account for success or failure.  To the contrary, the success or failure of individuals in  life  (not to be confused with football or beauty competitions) can be due to a host of variables having little to do with their efforts or personal qualities.

Horatio Alger’s Ragged Dick (1868) and Ayn Rand’s John Galt of Atlas Shrugged (1957) are wishful fictions.  As heroic cartoons they fail to reflect the numerous interacting variables that shape what we become, among them:  genetic endowment, our material and cultural environment, resources generated by others, and accidents of time and place.

It may be true that a ‘free market’ driven by the profit motive is most likely to call forth the most efficient use of our talents and energies.  But it is not a guarantee of individual or aggregate national wealth of any description, including GDP.   Nor does the GDP measure national well-being, which is better measured by the H.D. I. (the human development index)  which considers such indicators as education, health and life-expectancy along with GDP.

In the history of this country individual striving has been assisted mightily by three advantages:  the cornucopia of natural resources found in the continental United States, waves of immigration and internal migration, and the system of government–with its intellectual foundations set in the values of the 18th century enlightenment and classical republicanism–crafted during a hot summer in Philadelphia in 1787.

This government, which has survived challenges as great as any we observe today, during the 19th century blazed, charted, dredged, surveyed and cleared land and water routes for the national expansion of private commerce; awarded over 130 million acres of public domain to the railroads for rights of way and as security for bond issues; built the Panama Canal; funded over 70% of the airports and expansion of a national air transportation network during the early 20th century; built the interstate highway system; and fulfilled the country’s penchant for exploration with human and robotic journeys from the Moon to the outer reaches or our universe.

The federal government continues to fight wars not only against military adversaries, but against disease and destitution.  Had we left it up to the profit-motive driven private sector to provide  a critical national infrastructure, we’d still be hitching our oxen up to wagons to haul our goods to market.

In 2005 taxpayers from over half of these United States received back from the federal government more dollars in grants and contracts than they paid in federal taxes.  These states include the home states of Sarah Palin, Senators Jim DeMint, Lindsay Graham, Chuck Grassley, James Inhofe, John McCain, and Mitch McConnell, and Representative John Boehner, among numerous other Republicans in congress or eager to get there.

In fact, about 90% of the federal government’s estimated outlays for 2010 will be returned to private sector employers in the form of grants and contracts positioned in every congressional jurisdiction throughout the land. The ‘iron triangle’ binding the interests of members of congress, the executive branch, and private industry is one of the most powerful determinants of who gets what in the U.S. economy.

Our ‘free market’ has no better friend than the federal government, while our inner cities, with all their community organizers, are no match for US businesses in feeding at the public trough.   Shadowboxing may, alas, garner conservative candidates some votes, but it will not prepare them for the genuine issues that await them in Washington.

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Text sources: Available on request.

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Let Us Eat Cake

Poor Marie Antoinette, Queen of France.  ‘You Tube’ has no video of her saying it, so we can’t be sure whether she ever did say “let them eat cake” (or “brioche,” for you purists). Marie was responding to the news on the eve of the French revolution that the people had no bread.  She ate neither bread nor cake after 1793, when hungry and angry Parisian citizens relieved her of her head.  And yet, for all that we do know, the comment was in character–not only for Marie, but for her time.

Fortunately television news  was on hand to confirm that the successful primary election candidate for a U.S. Senate seat from Nevada, Sharron Angle, did declare with comparable indifference that congress should abolish Medicare and Social Security.  (One assumes Ms. Angle and like-minded friends will virtuously forgo the benefits of both.)  When we are old and sick we can eat cake.  Ms. Angle wants us to concentrate instead on our domestic “enemies…who pass these kinds of policies–Obama-care, cap and trade, stimulus, bailouts–they’re certainly not friends to the free market system, they’re not friends.”  Glenn Beck, for his part, includes that nemesis of the free market system, “collectivism,” in the litany of evils he ascribes to Barack Obama’s “belief structure.”

That sacred totem called the ‘free market’ now supports a large tent under which the devotees of Rush Limbaugh, Glenn Beck, and Sarah Palin struggle to override hard conversations about the three most powerful forces that shape American politics: race, region, and class.  The dead give-away is the haste with which their acolytes denounce the “race card” or “class warfare” whenever our current president’s racial heritage, or programs to provide for the greater good, intrude overtly into what passes for political discourse today.

The regions that threaten them are both cultural and geographic: Urbanized regions of the northeast and west coast, inhabited by high-end universities and the “intellectual elites” they produce, people who think it’s important to know what you’re talking about.  A lot of these people, whom they regard as alien to “middle America,” don’t even look and sound like real Americans: Jews, African Americans, Muslims, Latinos, people speaking foreign tongues and practicing strange religions, and of course the New York Times.

If, out of a total U.S. population of 322.3 million, we removed 45.4 million Hispanics or Latinos, 36.3 Blacks or African Americans, and the jumble of  41.1 million of other yellow, red, and brown skinned people, that would leave only 62 percent of the U.S. population who might qualify as “real Americans.” Screen out innumerable homosexuals, 5.7 million Jews, 4.7 million Muslims and readers of the New York Times, and the percentage of ‘real’ Americans gets even smaller.

The Limbaugh-Beck-Palin crowd knows that their views–especially of the nation’s first black president–go against the broad, inclusive grain in contemporary American life, so they masquerade their phobias behind a passion for preserving the ‘free market’ against a supposedly predatory ‘government’ (the same government which, as it serves the Constitution, has allowed the land to become cluttered with all those alien people and their un-American ideas).  After all, who can oppose FREEDOM? Unfortunately, the free market system cannot support the big tent and shelter all the dark fears collected underneath.

One reason is that the architect of the ‘free market’ political economy, Adam Smith, in his The Wealth of Nations (1776) did not view government as a domestic enemy.  To replace an economic model designed to enrich monarchs and their tax collectors (mercantilism), Smith proposed an open economic system of free markets to allocate capital and labor more efficiently (hence, productively), thanks to the market’s automatic regulation of supply and demand.  Like an ‘invisible hand’ it would ensure that capital and labor be turned to their most productive uses, and thus wealth would grow throughout the land.

But Smith was essentially a moralist whose economic views emerged from his moral philosophy.   His Theory of Moral Sentiments (1759) became as popular in its time as Wealth of Nations.  What separated humans from animals, Smith taught, was their inborn capacity for moral judgment and conduct.  This capacity was the source of their naturally occurring moral “sentiments,” which included a preference for the benevolence and justice essential to a moral society.

Smith understood that as the multitudes scramble for profits, they could not be relied on to secure society against the “violence and invasion” of enemies, or to ensure justice, or to carry out the public “duty of erecting and maintaining certain public works and certain public institutions which it can never be in the interest of any individual, or small number of individuals, to erect and maintain.” These things must be done by government.  Adam Smith’s wealthy nation is one in which the opportunity for private wealth does not trump the public good.

Smith, very much a creature of the 18th century, could not have foreseen that his prescription for achieving national wealth would lead to an economic system “red in tooth and claw.”  The Gilded Ages of post-Civil War and post-Reagan America sought to rationalize selfish greed as the competitive energy necessary to create the “richest nation in the world.” What we sowed, we now reap. This nation today finds itself in the midst of an economic crisis of historic proportions, one that is unlikely to end any time soon, while economists and politicians fill op-ed pages and TV screens with prescriptions for cures that shrink from questioning the free market model itself.  Were they to do so, they would be denounced as “communists!”  “socialists!”–or, horrible to contemplate–people who want America to be like Europe!!

Through much of American history the abundance of natural resources and expansion across a vast continent allowed us to believe in our epoch as a time of endless opportunity. Recessions and economic depressions, with their unemployment, lost homes, and millions tumbling backward into poverty, would be mere temporary lags in the economy’s readjustments to the ‘free market’ driven business cycle.

We were, and are, wrong.  Today nearly 15 million people are out of work, a number equivalent to the entire population of the United States in 1835–or to the combined populations of the New York City, Los Angeles, and Chicago, or the combined populations of Alaska, Arizona, Nevada and Utah.  One out of seven Americans has fallen into the slippery sloped depths of poverty, and more are likely to join them in the days ahead. Compounding this widespread failure of our economy to increase national wealth is the failure of the ‘invisible hand’ of the market to distribute what wealth we do generate throughout society to a degree that will be politically sustainable for long.

The disparity in pre-tax incomes between the rich and everyone else is now greater than at any time since the 1920’s.  Of incomes reported on tax-returns, 15 percent of all pre-tax income went to 1 percent of households, with average annual incomes of roughly $800,000.  The top 10 percent of households now receives over 40 percent of total pre-tax income.

Capital investors large and small welcome increases in our GNP and stock market values, not paying much attention to the cruel irony that, by definition, today’s technology-driven productivity requires job losses.   We invent to produce labor saving devices.  In 2009 the CEOs of 50 companies with the largest number of layoffs received 40 percent more pay than their peers elsewhere.

Management consultants tell us that this is a good thing: “it is difficult to fire 6,000 people.  It does help companies survive, so I think you should reward CEOs for doing that.” And rewarded, they are:  In 1982, for every dollar the average worker earned, chief executive officers received $42.  By 2004, chief executive officers were being paid $301 for every dollar paid an average worker.   The free market proposed by Adam Smith now shares with “original sin” this salient characteristic:   At their moments of conception we were innocent of the lives they could waste.  What happened?

The conventional answers are that we should have more (or less) regulation, or more (or less ) government, or more (or less) social spending reinforced by more (or less) taxation.  But even if we could agree on the right balance of all of the above, natural forces endemic to our society and current political system would become our undoing once again.  Stand by for my next post.

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Text sources: Available on request.  Image: Honore Daumier, “The Uprising” – Wiki Commons

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