The Mind Of The Plutocrat

The other day I wrote a brief post on the Koch brothers, accompanied by a video highlighting some of their very nefarious involvement in the climate-denial business. Fellow blogger The Mound of Sound, who spends a great deal of time on the climate-change file, offered the following observation about the evil pair:

They are deliberately and quite knowingly condemning today's kids and their children to come to enormous hardship and suffering, perhaps even worse.

Reflecting upon his observation, at supper I said to my wife that those who pour millions into fueling the industry of climate-denial (and without question almost all of them do it, not out of conviction but for the selfish advancement of their own pecuniary and ideological imperatives) are truly evil; they almost seem to emulate the stereotypical villains found throughout the years in James Bond films. Think, for example, of Ernest Stavro Blofeld or Auric Goldfinger, both bent on world domination, and I don't think you are far off understanding the sheer malignity of those who would condemn future generalizations to hell on earth.

The other day, I talked to my friend Dom, enjoying a sojourn in Florida, and the topic turned to the Koch brothers and the general attitude of indifference that the plutocrats show towards the collective. Dom said that they are so used to having their own way, and, moving as they do in such rarefied self-reinforcing circles, see themselves and their actions as beyond reproach.

Fortuitously, at about the same time I talked to Dom, I read a piece by The New York Time's Paul Krugman echoing Dom's observation. Entitled Paranoia of the Plutocrats, Krugman offers the following observations:

... the rich are different from you and me.

And yes, that’s partly because they have more money, and the power goes with it. They can and all too often do surround themselves with courtiers who tell them what they want to hear and never, ever, tell them they’re being foolish. They’re accustomed to being treated with deference, not just by the people they hire but by politicians who want their campaign contributions. And so they are shocked to discover that money can’t buy everything, can’t insulate them from all adversity.

Emblematic of their shock and their outrage, as cited by Krugman, is the recent letter the billionaire investor Tom Perkins, a founding member of the venture capital firm Kleiner Perkins Caufield & Byers, sent to the New York Times, in which he made this odious 'comparison':

I would call attention to the parallels of fascist Nazi Germany to its war on its "one percent," namely its Jews, to the progressive war on the American one percent, namely the "rich."

...This is a very dangerous drift in our American thinking. Kristallnacht was unthinkable in 1930; is its descendant "progressive" radicalism unthinkable now?

Yet this overblown, even hysterical rhetoric is not limited to Mr. Perkins. As Krugman pointed out in a piece last year, others in this 'persecuted' minority are speaking up as well.

Robert Benmosche, the chief executive of the American International Group (AIG), the giant insurance company that played a crucial role in creating the global economic crisis, felt ill-used over the public outrage that accompanied the continuation of large executive bonuses after its massive government bailout:

He compared the uproar over bonuses to lynchings in the Deep South — the real kind, involving murder — and declared that the bonus backlash was “just as bad and just as wrong.”

But wait; there's more! Back in 2010 Stephen Schwarzman, the chairman and chief executive of the Blackstone Group, declared that proposals to eliminate tax loopholes for hedge fund and private-equity managers were “like when Hitler invaded Poland in 1939.”

As Krugman points out, normal people in a democracy accept criticism, however grudgingly (clearly, he is not acquainted with Harper and his cabal - but he did say normal people, didn't he?):

Normal people take it in stride; even if they’re angry and bitter over political setbacks, they don’t cry persecution, compare their critics to Nazis and insist that the world revolves around their hurt feelings. But the rich are different from you and me.

In addition to his earlier observation of how the ultra-rich are so insulated from real life as an explanation for their pique, Krugman offers this:

I also suspect that today’s Masters of the Universe are insecure about the nature of their success. We’re not talking captains of industry here, men who make stuff. We are, instead, talking about wheeler-dealers, men who push money around and get rich by skimming some off the top as it sloshes by. They may boast that they are job creators, the people who make the economy work, but are they really adding value? Many of us doubt it — and so, I suspect, do some of the wealthy themselves, a form of self-doubt that causes them to lash out even more furiously at their critics.

Perhaps John Steinbeck, in his great novel The Grapes of Wrath, said it best when referring to the wealthy landowners who exploited so many of their fellow human beings:

If he needs a million acres to make him feel rich, seems to me he needs it 'cause he feels awful poor inside hisself, and if he's poor in hisself, there ain't no million acres gonna make him feel rich.

Finding The Light Amidst Despair

During my teaching days, in the aftermath of 9/11 a student came to see me to discuss her feelings of helplessness and despair in the face of such monumental evil. While I had no special wisdom to offer her, I did say that although I had been witness to some terrible world events in my lifetime, I had never lost complete hope for one particular reason: if evil truly prevailed in this world, we would have destroyed ourselves by now. The fact that we haven't attests to something that the truly vile and depraved amongst us never acknowledge or admit to themselves – the human capacity for goodness, selflessness, and resilience.

I reminded her of the literature we had studied that attests to those qualities. John Steinbeck, in his best-known novel, The Grapes of Wrath, explored the concept of Manself, his term for the human spirit, a spirit that may certainly suffer setbacks, whether through violence in its many forms, beaten strikes or economic injustice, but remains alive, even in defeat, as long as people continue taking the steps necessary to oppose oppression in its many forms:

... Fear the time when the bombs stop falling while the bombers live- for every bomb is proof that the spirit has not died. And fear the time when the strikes stop while the great owners live – for every little beaten strike is proof that the step is being taken.

And this you can know- fear the time when Manself will not suffer and die for a concept, for this one quality is the foundation of Manself, and this one quality is man, distinctive in the universe.

During the recent bombings in Boston, that spirit was very much in evidence. People, despite not knowing where or when the next bomb might go off, instead of fleeing to the safety of shelter, tended to those who had sustained such grievous injuries. Whether doctors, passersby or marathon watchers, they thought of others before themselves:

This is why, whether we are talking about evil on a large or small scale, whether we are talking about suffering that seems to arbitrarily visit us either collectively or individually, hope remains alive, reminding all of us that every one of these moments of grace point the way to something greater, something that some would call transcendent, or to paraphrase Steinbeck, distinctive in the animal kingdom.

As The Republicans Desperately Seek A New Political Religion

...they would be well-advised to read what, in my view (and I know many would disagree) is one of the greatest American novels ever written, John Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath, the story of dispossessed Mid-West farmers seeking a new life in California. Like all truly significant works, the novel offers penetrating insights into the human condition that the right wing, were it less disdainful of such 'soft' pursuits as the perusal of literature, would do well to heed.

The U.S. Republican Party will soon embark on a necessary process of renewal and the search for a new constituency in its efforts to eventually recapture the White House; as has already been widely reported, those efforts will be grounded in the recognition that their current constituency, thanks to its historically recent capitulation to extremists, largely consists of angry older white men whose numbers and influence are dwindling, thanks both to nature's inexorable course and the growing proportion of Latino voters who, along with other 'minorities,' are strangely unreceptive to the politics of division and disenfranchisement currently peddled by the Republican 'brain trust.'

One of the great strengths of The Grapes of Wrath is its unflinching examination of the dialectic of history. In Chapter 19, Steinbeck offers the following warning to those who refuse to recognize new realities, a message that the privileged few in the U.S. (and elsewhere) would be wise to consider:

Once California belonged to Mexico and its land to Mexicans; and a horde of tattered feverish Americans poured in. And such was their hunger for land that they took the land - stole Sutter's land, Guerrero's land, took the grants and broke them up and growled and quarreled over them, those frantic hungry men; and they guarded with guns the land they had stolen… And as time went on, the business men had the farms, and the farms grew larger, but there were fewer of them.

Now farming became industry, and the owners followed Rome, although they did not know it. They imported slaves, although they did not call them slaves: Chinese, Japanese, Mexicans, Filipinos. They live on rice and beans, the business men said. They don't need much. They wouldn't know what to do with good wages. Why, look how they live. Why, look what they eat. And if they get funny - deport them.

… And then the dispossessed were drawn west - from Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico; from Nevada and Arkansas families, tribes, dusted out, tractored out. Caravans, carloads, homeless and hungry; twenty thousand and fifty thousand and a hundred thousand and two hundred thousand. They streamed over the mountains, hungry and restless - restless as ants, scurrying to find work to do - to lift, to push, to pull, to pick, to cut - anything, any burden to bear, for food. The kids are hungry. We got no place to live…. Like ants scurrying for work, for food, and most of all for land.

... They had hoped to find a home, and they found only hatred. Okies - the owners hated them. And in the town, the storekeepers hated them because they had no money to spend.… The town men, little bankers, hated Okies because there was nothing to gain from them. They had nothing. And the laboring people hated Okies because a hungry man must work, and if he must work, if he has to work, the wage payer automatically gives him less for his work; and then no one can get more. (pp. 315-318, The Grapes of Wrath, Penguin Books, 1992)

While many in Steinbeck's day felt both outraged and threatened by his assertion of revolution's inevitability as a reaction to oppression, his message has never been more relevant. Foolish indeed are those who believe they can ignore the lessons of history.

John Steinbeck and the Occupy Wall Street Movement

In my days as a high school English teacher, one of my favourite books to teach was John Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath, the story of dispossessed farmers who, due to drought and economic factors, are forced to leave their land behind and travel to California in the hope of starting a new life. That new life ultimately turns out to be one of terrible privation and exploitation as they seek work as migrant pickers, desperate to earn what little money they can to stave off complete starvation.

But beyond being a stinging indictment of an economic system that has stopped working for the people, the novel is ultimately a tale of strength and hope, informed as it is by the author's deep humanity and social conscience.

As I follow the Occupy Wall Street Movement, I find myself thinking of the things against which the movement is protesting, things that have, in fact, been part of the North American economic system for a very long time. But I also think of something else as well, a notion or concept that saves Steinbeck's novel from being a document in despair, a notion that I see very much alive in the people fuelling the Wall Street Movement.

First to the concept: Steinbeck believed in something called Manself which, while difficult to precisely define, is based on the notion that there is something within the human spirit, something we all share and are united by that propels us forward toward something beyond the status quo.

A quote from Chapter 14 (one of the intercalary chapters that breaks from the main narrative of the Joad family's struggles) of The Grapes of Wrath offers a useful demonstration:

For man, unlike any other thing organic or inorganic in the universe, grows beyond his work, walks up the stairs of his concepts, emerges ahead of his accomplishments. This you may say of man – when theories change and crash, when schools, philosophies, when narrow dark alleys of thought, national, religious, economic, grow and disintegrate, man reaches, stumbles forward, painfully, mistakenly sometimes. Having stepped forward, he may slip back, but only half a step, never the full step back.

This you may know when the bombs plummet out of the black planes on the market place, when prisoners are stuck like pigs, when the crushed bodies drain filthily in the dust. You may know it in this way. If the step were not being taken, if the stumbling-forward ache were not alive, the bombs would not fall, the throats would not be cut. Fear the time when the bombs stop falling while the bombers live- for every bomb is proof that the spirit has not died. And fear the time when the strikes stop while the great owners live – for every little beaten strike is proof that the step is being taken.

And this you can know- fear the time when Manself will not suffer and die for a concept, for this one quality is the foundation of Manself, and this one quality is man, distinctive in the universe.

The above have always been powerful words for me, as Steinbeck articulates the strength of humanity, the willingness to live and die by principles and beliefs that are a threat to the powers-that-be. He tells us to fear the time the bombers stop dropping the bombs not because he is extolling warfare, but because he sees the use of armed repression as a powerful example of how threatened by the innate strength of humanity are those those who would control us, dictate the terms of our existence, and consign us to lives of misery if they can benefit from that misery.

Essentially he is telling us that whether or not our fight against injustice, evil, and inequity is successful in the short-term isn't the ultimate consideration. Rather, it is the fact that there are those among us who will fight, even if the odds are against them, who will suffer, even die, because their cause is just, that is the reminder of what we are and what we can be. It is, in fact, a strong repudiation of those who would have us believe that we are simply consumers of their goods, voters for their party, fodder for their economic empires.

It is this spirit of Manself, this defiance, this resilience, this refusal to any longer passively submit to a fate determined by the corporate agenda, to in fact confront it and work to defeat it, that I see in the Occupy Wall Street Movement.

It is that thing the power elite, responsible for so much inequity, so much environmental destruction, so much suffering and despair, should be afraid of.