I've often mocked people for moving to the Bay Area, "Where radicals go to die" usually being the tagline I've condescendingly (and affectionately) given it. I can't lie: Coming from the east coast, where both climates and mere day to day life seem far less forgiving, it's not terribly difficult to hurl declarations of humane-to-the-point-of-absurdity at things like "Acupuncture Happy Hour" -- which, in fact, happened within my first 24hrs on the ground last weekend (no, I didn't attend). There's the sense -- admittedly totally misguided and hyperbolic -- that there's little to no transformative work left for anyone to do in such a place. And the residuals of the myriad social movements anchored there over the years are certainly compelling enough. Who doesn't dream of waking up to a world even modestly less soul-crushing? None of it really changes the fact that the landscape has always seemed prohibitively unchallenging (or something), to me. Probably cause I have no idea what I'm talking about.
But, if anyone reading this can stomach the rich hypocrisy, I can see why i would want to live there.
For starters, the soyrizo and refried black bean burrito I stealthily stuffed into my face during my home-bound takeoff quite possibly ranks among the top ten things that've ever found their way into my mouth. And the soy cappucino at Blue Bottle that I settled on after finding out the halogen syphon gets turned off at 3pm was far and away the best I've ever had. The Mission's murals, the mix of old Victorian and old industrial, the overall scale, the wanton cultural cross-pollination -- it's all very sane-making. Which is frankly something of a priority for me at the moment, regardless of my fluctuating attitudes toward organizing. Not sure whether to chalk that up to age, and the fact that the resilience of both my body and psyche are not what they once were -- or simply that this year has kicked the living shit out of me.
And that was apparent in my performance at Saturday night's Institute for Anarchist Studies panel, rather sadly. To those left scratching their heads at why I was, at best, curiously emphatic, I hope you can accept my apologies. I've not yet had opportunity to review the video, but it's safe to say that I was channeling more than a useful helping of anger, much to my (now) embarrassment. You win some, you lose some. Between me and despair/frustration, I lost that one. Life goes on.
What was perhaps most noteworthy from the panel was the discussion after. I say noteworthy because, while I only rarely disagreed with what anyone had to say, the conversation was virtually indistinguishable from the conversations I've been hearing at anarchist meetings/events/etc for probably ten years. Literally. I'm not sure it would've been much different, had the topic of the panel been the yak population of Zimbabwe. Which isn't to invalidate the sentiments expressed. But it seems relatively intuitive that, if these prescriptions have been so passionately and emphatically agreed upon with such tenure, we ought to have at least a few things to say about how well they've road-tested. Evaluations? Insights? Geographic variability? Flaws/failures? Innovations?
[Crickets]
A random sampling: "This economic crisis, and what you're all saying just highlights for me that we need mass movements. In the streets."
No argument, here. But there's this nasty little fact that material conditions are at work. Just off the top of my head, there's the fact that Bush accelerated past policies geared toward building in disincentives toward mass movements, dressed up like economic mobility (hence that footnote to future history - the real estate bubble). Namely, what he called an "Ownership Society". But the logic was built into the initial legislative push for increasing home ownership in the US, back in the 1930's (which geographer David Harvey explains far better than I ever could):
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Granted, there are exceptions. But a precondition to "mass movements in the streets" is our having grappled with this, and with considerable creativity. It's not merely a matter of rhetorical skill or well-placed wishes. Moreover, when we trade in such vocabulary, what do we mean by "mass movements"? The majority of the US population? How much of a majority? Or do we have a critical mass in mind below 50% that will suffice? As of July 2008 the US population (according to census data) was 304,059,724. How much of that does one have in mind when referring to a "mass movement"? And how long would it take us to arrive at that figure based on number of people each of us "wins over" on a daily basis? Real questions.
At the end of the first quarter of this year, over 48 million mortgages existed in the US, 26% of which were for houses (now) worth less than what's owed on them. As of this week, delinquencies (loans 60 days past due) among US homeowners reached a record high of 6%. So, let's set aside reasonable extrapolations of how many folks you or I are winning over to grassroots mobilization and let's just deal with the nearly 3 million people who are about to lose their homes. How many of those people are coming to your organizing meetings, or even turning out for movements you could join? What effective methodologies have we developed for dealing with their material conditions such that their participation can be counted on in the mass movements you're so excited about? Again, real questions.
Perhaps more importantly, and more on topic with what we were attempting to discuss in our presentation, suppose we get a "mass movement" and secure some meaningful control over the administration of our lives? Then what? What groundwork have we laid? What institutions do we control? What informed perspective do we have on institutions we don't control, beyond a Bronx Cheer? If it were the case that precisely zero examples exist to indicate discernible movement on this front, there'd be little credible controversy in dismissing these sorts of conversations entirely. But instead, there are (albeit, in many cases only budding) examples of experimentation and development in this sphere, but we either don't know about them, or don't care. More and more, I fear it's the latter. So, we draw the shortest line we can between substantive political agency (something over which we often have very little command) and Dodgeball (something we all more or less aced within ten minutes), and spin fairy tales about how we're "winning".
(referring to the impending student/worker protests, now underway, in the UC system) "I hope that after tomorrow the university no longer exists."
I'm not sure I fully understood you, there. What with the UC regents saying dizzying shit along the lines of, "We can't afford to do things like undergraduate education, anymore", it would appear you're not alone. Not sure why you'd want to go shouting that from the rooftops, though. It mostly strikes me as the sort of shit middle-class, while kids can get away with bandying about because their material well-being (to say nothing of mobility) does not depend upon access to these institutions, or even upon education generally. Hence white kids being able to show up this event, mouth off in such intellectually bankrupt ways, and not find themselves laughed out of the room. For the record: This is what privilege looks like. "We need to be moving past our comfort zones, and talking to our neighbors and stuff."
Right. And how's that going? No, really. Are we just saying it because it's a surefire claptrap, or have we held that belief long enough to have taken steps in that direction and thus have some insight to report back? It's not that I disagree, don't get me wrong. Conversations I've had with people within two blocks of my apartment have resulted in us attending immigrant solidarity rallies and radical intellectual forums together (not to mention challenged me in ways that have been immeasurably productive). I'm just continuously stumped as to why no one has anything interesting to say about their experience, what with it being such a wildly popular utterance.
Anyway, I'm presently on a train, bound for the inaugural North American Anarchist Studies Network conference. Apparently, I'm going to talk about anarchist economics with some folks far more qualified than myself in said discipline. Should be a riot. And by "riot", I mean something akin to me doing marginally better than talking with my ass cheeks ala Ace Ventura. At very least, I get to catch up with a friend from my Italy years.
In closing: Coffee is awesome. Really. You know that first chapter of Homage to Catalonia, where Orwell's referring to post-July '36 Barcelona, and the sign outside the barber shop that says something to the effect of "We've thrown off our shackles, please don't tip"? I dream of a day when the baristas I know and love can do just that.
I've often mocked people for moving to the Bay Area, "Where radicals go to die" usually being the tagline I've condescendingly (and affectionately) given it. I can't lie: Coming from the east coast, where both climates and mere day to day life seem far less forgiving, it's not terribly difficult to hurl declarations of humane-to-the-point-of-absurdity at things like "Acupuncture Happy Hour" -- which, in fact, happened within my first 24hrs on the ground last weekend (no, I didn't attend). There's the sense -- admittedly totally misguided and hyperbolic -- that there's little to no transformative work left for anyone to do in such a place. And the residuals of the myriad social movements anchored there over the years are certainly compelling enough. Who doesn't dream of waking up to a world even modestly less soul-crushing? None of it really changes the fact that the landscape has always seemed prohibitively unchallenging (or something), to me. Probably cause I have no idea what I'm talking about.
