Northern Vista Blog

This is the sermon I preached during my last Sunday as a youth coordinator:

As I considered the readings for this week, certain phrase stuck out for me from the first reading. When the Holy Spirit came, it came like a violent wind.

Now usually, we don’t really think about the Holy Spirit as a violent wind. More often than not, we like to quote the story of Elijah where the spirit of God passes by in the form of a whisper, or of silence. But there is nothing quiet or “whispery” about the Spirit for the apostles. It comes in an overwhelming and compelling way. The Holy Spirit leaves a crowd of people with fire dancing over their head and disheveled hair.

When I was about the age of our confirmation youth, my brother, his friends and I would occasionally hike up one of the local mountains with our sleds and sled down the backside of the mountain, where the terrain wasn’t terribly steep. We’d race derby-style down the mountain, trying to push each other off the sled. One Sunday afternoon five of us started to hike up the hill. What we didn’t know then was that there was a high-wind advisory for Anchorage that day. As we hiked up the mountain, we were impressed the by blustery weather. But it wasn’t until we reached the ridge that we experienced the full force of the wind. I’ve never experienced anything like it. Every time a gust hit us, we immediately knelt down on the ground and covered our heads with our sled. We scratched and clawed at the snow and ice, trying to stay in one place. But the wind wanted to move us. During one particularly strong gust, the wind ripped the sled out of one of my brother’s friend’s hands. The rope was still attached around his wrist, and with the sled acting like a kite, we watched as he literally, lifted off the ground and got deposited ten or fifteen feet away. The wind wanted to move us.

I can’t help but think of the violent wind that day as a great image for the Holy Spirit. The Spirit wants to move us. It wants to manhandle us. It wants to be a compelling force in our lives.

But sometimes we don’t like wind, do we? Think about it -- there is something so delightful about snuggling in to warm blankets on winter nights when the wind rages outside. It makes our comfortable beds just a little more comfortable, doesn’t it?

Which brings me to my next story: This one is about a gentlemen named John Muir. He was a famous naturalist who lived about a hundred years ago and was instrumental in creating the national Park system. One day while hiking in the Sierra mountains, a big windstorm began to blow. Instead of finding shelter, John Muir found the biggest Douglas Spruce tree he could find, about a hundred feet tall, and climbed to the top. There he sat for hours, being whipped every-which-way by the wind and enjoying the sights, smells, and sounds of the forest. As he reflected on his experience, he said this: “We all travel the milky way together, trees and men; but it never occurred to me until this storm-day, while swinging in the wind, that trees are travelers, in the ordinary sense. They make many journeys, not extensive ones, it is true; but our own little journeys, away and back again, are only little more than tree-wavings -- many of them not so much.”

The Holy Spirit wants to move us. Just like a violent wind, it wants to pick us up, manhandle us, and set us back down again in the direction it’s traveling… When the Spirit moves, where will it find you? When the Spirit calls you to live radically and love radically, when the violent winds of justice and compassion blow, will you be moved? When you step outside these walls, and are confronted with a world full of poverty, oppression, and war, will you be moved? Or will you snuggle in a little deeper into blankets of apathy, fear, or privilege?”

Confirmation students: What you are essentially saying today is that you have been moved. You have spent the past two years learning about the Bible, about faith, and about grace. And in being confirmed today, you are saying that you have decided to ”

Adults: These young people’s eyes are wide open. And they’re looking for examples of what it means to live faithfully. They are looking for mentors and friends who live a life compelled by the Spirit. Will you be moved to share with these young people the best of our tradition? Will you remain a faithful presence in their lives no matter where their journey’s take them? Will you be moved to model authentic spirituality to a younger generation?

For me, the winds are changing too. And let me take this opportunity to let you say what a blessing the past four and half years have been to me and my family…

My prayer for all of you is this: that you would be moved. May God’s Spirit gently lead you to places of healing, reconciliation, and peace. And at times, may God’s Spirit unsettle you. As you discern what it means to be a community of faith in this time and this place, may you stand open to the leading of the Spirit.

To God alone be the glory!

As you sit tonight in your Hillside home, eating organic takeout and surrounded by your privilege and wealth, I hope your oh-so-lofty thoughts return to this afternoon at Kincaid.

I was the young man with a van full of church kids who needed a jump-start. You refused to help.

As you sit amidst your privilege and wealth , I want you to know a few things: Those kids in the van were from West Fairview. They live in damp and dark apartments. Many of them are surrounded by alcoholism and abuse. They struggle in school. They are the ones you never see in your McMansion neighborhood. They can't even conceive the wealth you enjoy. For them, a drive across town to Kincaid is the highlight of their week. They come to the church's drop-in-center because they need a place to escape. They need a place where someone cares about them.

One of the boy's grandfathers died two days ago. This boy's grandfather raised him. And this boy will bury him tomorrow.

That's who you left stranded at Kincaid today. When I asked for help, you and your mom gave some mumbled excuses. You said, "I'm sure there are plenty of other people here who will help you out."

You're right. There are a lot of people out there with more compassion, caring, and humanity in them. There are a lot of people out there who would give two minutes of their time. I'm genuinely sorry that you're not one of them. I'm sorry that your soul is so insulated. I'm sorry that your wealth and privilege have made you empty. In that sense, I guess you're not so rich after all...

To the guy in the beat-up 2-door sedan: Thanks for taking a couple minutes to give us a jump. We appreciate it.

Preface: The people at the church where I serve are good, caring people. Their hearts are in the right place. But sweet Lord, save us from ourselves.

I just finished a painful three-hour church planning meeting. The highlight:

"We need to be more welcoming."
"We should put together a 'welcoming training session.'"
(Widespread agreement)

WTF????!!! We need training to be welcoming?? Have we forgotten the proper way to shake hands? Do we need a curriculum to learn how to look people in the eye and say hello?? Are we inept at human interaction??

What really bothers me is this: Why do we have to fucking institutionalize everything? Why do we need to be properly trained -- by certified instructors -- on how to be friendly? The whole meeting felt like this. For every problem that arose: how to keep families involved in church, how to be more involved in the neighborhood, how be more welcoming, the solution was always the same: get together a committee, make an action plan, and report back to the council. Really?? What if we kept families involved in church by preaching and practicing a spirituality that is authentic? What if we became more involved in the neighborhood by meeting our neighbors? What if we became more welcoming by actually taking an interest in newcomers?

The problem with institutions is that they perpetuate institutionalization. Institutionalization is so seductive because it takes the obligation of action off of the individual and places on the institution. It's essentially a cop-out:

"If the welcoming committee (yes, the church had one) takes care of welcoming people, why should I? They're better trained and qualified anyhow."

How many times, as members of various institutions, do we justify our inaction this way? What should belong in the private domain (friendliness, kindness, empathy, discipline, etc. ) becomes a function of the institution instead. This isn't unique to churches. Think about government assistance programs. Our duty and responsibility to care for our neighbors has been rendered impotent by the institutionalizing of that sentiment: 'Why should I help feed and clothe my neighbor? They have programs for that sort of thing." In this way, institutions can rob us of human interaction and relationship. And before you know it, we're taking classes about shaking hands.

It's Wednesday evening and the pastor and I are sitting around a table with the middle school students. It's their weekly Confirmation class -- a time for them to explore and personalize their faith. Each student has a Bible in front of them, open to Matthew. They take turns reading each verse:

"Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?'

"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.'"

A homeless man walks into the doorway of the classroom. I quickly get up and ask him how I can help him. "I need a blanket so that I can sleep under the A street bridge tonight," he says. The pastor, annoyed by the inturruption, tersely responds "I'm sorry, we don't have have any blankets here (which was true). We can't help you." He walks away.

We return to reading Matthew. As we begin to discuss the passage, one of the middle school students raises her hand. She's has big blue eyes and long blonde hair and is awkward in the way many fourteen year old girls are: stuck briefly in between childhood and womanhood. She's one of those girls who will grow up to be stunning. She looks up the pastor with fiery eyes. "If we're supposed to help "the least of these" why didn't we help him?" she asks as she motions to the empty doorway The pastor pauses. "Well," she answers slowly, "can we help everyone all the time?" A conversation follows about helping others. But throughout the class the girl with the blue eyes doesn't seem satisfied. I can tell she's unsettled by the contrast between what she's just read and what she's just seen.

I have no answer for her. And so I don't say anything to her.

I've been wondering what we really taught last week.

“Officials have closed off a part of Fort Richardson to recreational use after a wolf attacked a dog.

Bruce Bartley, a spokesman for the state Department of Fish and Game, says the dog was with two joggers and two other dogs Sunday. But it was lagging behind the others, and the joggers heard a yelp.

They turned around and saw the wolf trying to carry the dog off. They ran toward the wolf, which dropped the uninjured dog but didn't leave. Barley says it instead followed them for a few miles but didn't make another aggressive move.” –Anchorage Daily News April 27^th, 2009

Often in cases like this, people are horrified that a wolf like myself will stalk their pet. Even more disturbing to them is the idea that I would seek to attack and eat another canine. They find it offensive and strange -- as though I were eating my brother or cousin.

So let me defend myself. These dogs are not remotely connected to myself. They are weak and cowed. They are passive actors of their own fate. They transfer all of their liberty, their power, their free will, and their independence to creatures they perceive as better than themselves. For ten thousand years they’ve been under the intoxicating spell of co-dependence. They happily trade their independence for more immediate gratifications: a consistent source of food that satisfies their soft bellies, a warm bed to rest their atrophied bodies, a sense of satisfaction from pleasing people they perceive as above them.

But what truly makes them wretched is their fear. It drives their lives. Beyond the comfortable walls of their homes (prisons) is a world full of danger, excitement, and -- yes – death. It is a world that is raw and beautiful and sometimes terrifying. But they’ve made their choice. And on windy nights, when the spirits of the wild ravage the darkness, they tremble.

It’s fear that leads them to create their primitive institutions. It is fear that compels them into their social contract with mankind. They mistakenly believe that the institution of domestication will save them. “Give up a little and gain a lot.” This is their thinking. They have no idea how fragile institutions are. And when those institutions crumble, they are ushered into quiet back rooms.

They also fear me. They cannot understand a soul that chooses freedom over comfort. They cannot understand boldness in the face of death. I may die from a gun or a snare tomorrow. I may die wretchedly and miserably from disease or infection or injury. I may be torn apart by others. They cannot understand a soul that lives honestly.

And so you must not judge me when I occasionally choose to feast on these soft and fearful creatures. They have made their choice: comfort over freedom. I cannot be blamed when their illusions of safety are shattered. Yes, they may die. But in death – like so may of us – they find truth.

A woman stands at the bus stop smoking a cigarette. She's in her mid-fifties and her life story is written in the lines in her face. Disappointment. Unhappiness.

Across the street an inebriated bum urinates on the sidewalk. Crumpled on the ground next to him is a crying woman. She's inebriated too. She's holding four photographs in her hand. Everytime she looks at the photographs, a fresh round of tears abandon her eyes.

Another woman stands in the adjacent parking lot. Dirty t-shirt and shorts. She's staring intently at nothing .

This scene unfolds on the street next to the church. It's the day before Easter.

Some of the neighborhood kids came by earlier in the day to help sweep the parking lot. One of the kids pointed out the crying woman, who was sitting outside the front door. “That's my auntie,” he said. Then two of the boys compared notes on the night before: how late they were up and which adults in their apartments were drunk.

The church is locked.

Inside the sanctuary is beautiful. Flowers overflow the alter. Tomorrow morning, many people will show up in their Easter best. Bright dresses, bows, and ties. They'll celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ. There will be bells and shiny trumpets.

They'll celebrate the resurrection of a man who gave his life to teaching justice, peace, and authentic love. They'll celebrate a homeless man abandoned by the church of his day and abandoned by his friends. They will celebrate a man who was broken and was raised.

And while the congregation celebrates resurrection, two hundred yards away, outside of the church's sturdy cement walls, a hundred broken people are praying for resurrection. The lines in their face are prayers for resurrection, their empty bottles are prayers for resurrection, the damp smell of their apartment and their clothes are prayers for resurrection.

On Easter, we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ. We're celebrating the fact that love can bring the dead back to life. We celebrate God, full of piercings, running loose in the streets.

I'm resigning as youth director at my church at the end of May, and I've had a lot of strong feelings associated with that decision. But today, I think I came to an important realization: One the biggest reasons I love my job is because I know, in no uncertain terms, that I'm a force of goodness in other people's lives. (Yes, that may sound a little arrogant, but I'm convinced it's true to some degree)

See, we're not on this earth forever. (Isn't that a brilliant realization? I'm such a smart boy...)

But more seriously, very few of us will be remembered in the history books. In fact, within a few generations, we'll be forgotten by our own families. On rare occasion we might be referenced as "my great-great-grandpa who I think might have lived in Alaska" or some similar passing reference.

So really, all we've got are these short, beautiful days we've been given. That's it. All we've got are the people around us in this time and in this place. So why not try to bring joy to everyone we can? Why not work to be a force of goodness in the lives of those around us? After all, that's all we've got.

Chances are we won't be in the history books. Chances are we won't be remembered at all in a few generations. But I think I'm ok with that. I think that the simple tasks of love and gratitude that have been set in front of me are enough. Even if they're never remembered. At least I think it's a good start.

"What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes" James 4:14

Just a quick announcement:
This blog now has an RSS feed!

What is an RSS feed?
It stands for "Really Simple Syndication." Many blogs and websites have them. You subscribe to website's RSS feed and every time the site has new content, it shows up in your RSS reader. (Google has a good RSS reader called... "Reader"). Anyhow, this means that if you use RSS and subscribe to my feed, you no longer need to visit my website all the time to check for new content. You simply get it delivered to you in your RSS reader. You can subscribe to my site by clicking the little orange icon above my picture in the right column. Enjoy!

A couple days ago, I ran across a story from NPR about people turning subdivisions into communes. Sounds extraordinarily similar to a one of my previous posts.

On another note, this is inspiring: It suggests that people all over the country are beginning to reimagine a new way of living -- and are arriving at some of the same conclusions. So how do we fully utilize this desire for change?

Spoken by one of the pastors at this week's staff meeting:

"Some Christians say 'believe in Jesus and all your problems will go away.' We say, 'believe in Jesus and you'll have a whole new set of problems."

This is worthy of more discussion...

I continue my less-than-successful quest to find the right words to say as I address 100 youth about how to engage the world as Christians. And at the same time, I've come to a personal realization: It is so, so much easier to tear down than to build up. Being around a lot of progressive people (and listening to a lot of NPR) I've come to see how easy it is to tear things down.

And largely, they should be torn down.

But something needs to be built in their place. See, it's easy to tear down ideologies, opinions, situations and institutions. But to "leave it better than you found it", to build something beautiful and positive in its place is much, much harder. It takes sweat and tears and blood and mistakes and commitment and passion. None of which are easy to conjure.

We should reject destructive belief systems, ideologies, and assumptions. But if we don't replace those ideologies with something else --something better -- all we've done is empty ourselves out.

We become empty people.

For a retreat this weekend, I'm doing a session on the theme "one world." As a part of that presentation, I put together a slideshow of pictures. They speak for themselves.

I’ve watched two interesting documentaries lately that I highly recommend:

Commune (about a commune in California started in the 60’s) and The Amish: A people of preservation.

While some might think that these two groups of people have nothing in common, I disagree. Both groups center their discourse around the perpetuation of community. Both communities make decisions collectively about how best to preserve the community bond.

In the case of the Amish, they reject certain technologies because they fear the technology will decrease community. Cars, phones, and even farm machinery are all examples of rejected technologies. The Amish reject most farm machinery, for example, because they recognize that community happens when people work together. Thus they choose the horse-drawn wagon and scores of people with pitchforks to the hay-baler. However, they allow technologies that do reduce human drudgery. For instance, many Amish use electricity or gas for cooking and heating. Each community decides for itself – through intense dialog -- what to adopt and what to reject. Always, the focus of their discourse on technology centers on community.

The commune members at Black Bear took largely the same approach. Living simply and communally, they valued community over all else. (Even to the point of only allowing people to sleep together for no more than three nights in a row to prevent “couples”).

Now I’m not saying that either of the communities above are perfect. Many of their flaws are easily recognized. But both communities have taken a hard look at the role of technology and community.

The fact is, we need to start doing the same.

Which technologies truly make our lives better? (Notice I did not say “easier”)

Which ones truly eliminate human drudgery?

Which technologies deprive us of the opportunity for community?

What is the opportunity cost of technology?

How much of our time, relationships, and money must we sacrifice in order to purchase, maintain, and replace said technologies?

Ultimately, what is the “good life”? Ultimately, how do we define what is meaningful? Ultimately, do our lives reflect our values?

These are questions we need to be asking ourselves and our communities. In schools, churches, clubs, and families, we need to begin the dialog. It is one of the first steps to revolution.

(Please read my last post before you read this one. It’ll make a lot more sense)

Imagine with me for a moment:

A cul-de-sac in suburban America gets together for their annual neighborhood picnic (do these even happen any more?) At the picnic, everyone’s feeling a little down. A few neighbors have lost their jobs. A middle-age couple has lost most of their retirement. Anxiety is high about the economy. And people are just plain tired of their busy, hectic lives.

One neighbor, sipping his beer, speaks up.

“You know, it’s always seems silly to me that each of our families have our own cars, lawn-mowers, tools, guns, playgrounds, gardens, televisions, and computers. I don’t know about you, but most of my stuff just sits their most of the time. And I’ve paid a lot of money for all these things I hardly use.”

Other neighbors begin to nod. A young mother speaks up.

“You know, you’re right. We could share so much of what we own. We could set up calendars and schedules for “reserving” different items. A few of us stay-at-home moms could carpool to the stores and limit our shopping to once a week. We could even get rid of all our junky play sets and together build a really nice playground for the kids.”

Another neighbor chimes in “You know, after my mother passed away, the mother-in-law cottage has just become storage. We have a big TV we could put out there and make it the ‘theater house.’ We could even have neighborhood movie nights once a month.”

Before long, the entire neighborhood is buzzing about what they can share and how they will do it. They decide to build a communal shed to store a lawnmower, tools, and automotive and garden supplies. They have a hell of a neighborhood garage sale to get rid much of their personal belongings now that they share so much. They make over $10, 000 and use it to buy a communal van. One neighbor tears up her lawn to create a neighborhood garden while another puts the communally-built jumbo playground in her backyard. They use online calendars to schedule the use of communal items and vehicles, and they meet once a month. Occasionally items break or need replacement, but each family pitches in equally and it never amounts to more than a few dollars a month for each family. When items do break, their collective buying power means they can purchase the best-of-the-best.

In the meantime, the families find themselves with much more disposable income and free time. They hold regular neighborhood celebrations. A few neighbors quit their jobs all together or become part-time in order to have more time at home. Many of the neighbors now have the income to do the things they always dreamed about. Some take vacations to Europe. Others spend a month at a time doing humanitarian aid in Central America. Still others organize other neighborhoods into cooperatives.

And they all live happily ever after.

The End.

It was brought to my attention a few days ago that I've spent an awful lot of time pointing out injustice, destructive ideologies, and the like. But that's the easy part. The real challenge is to put forth an alternative. The real challenge is to imagine change. With this in mind, I want to propose two steps in the right direction. The first is to consider cooperatives (which I'll do in this post and the next) and the second is to address the discourse of technology and community (which I'll address later).

What is the fundamental difference between a cooperative and corporation? In a word, corporations seek profit, and cooperatives seek “betterment”. (I could expound upon this further, but I’ll leave it up to you to consider)

Corporations seek profit for their shareholders, cooperatives seek to fulfill “common economic, social, and cultural needs and aspirations through a jointly-owned and democratically-controlled enterprise.”^[Wikipedia]

Let’s use some examples: GM and MEA (my local electricity cooperative).

GM’s sole purpose is to perpetuate itself, and to make a profit. It exists entirely in the realm of profit and loss, income and expense. Here’s the argument:

1. If GM is not profitable, it must attempt to become profitable.

2. This means either reducing expenses or increasing income.

3. A large expense in any business is labor

4. Thus cutting laborers will reduce costs

5. Oh look, there goes another several thousand jobs!

Do you see how this argument is made in purely economic, numerical, and abstract terms? The purpose of a corporation is not the benefit of its employees, but the benefit of the shareholders. Humanity (ie labor) is simply a variable in the equation of profitability. The corporation in no way exists for the benefit of the employees. It exists purely for the benefit of the shareholders.

Now let’s consider an electric cooperative. Each resident seeks electricity and thus voluntarily chooses to join the co-op knowing that collectively, we can all share electricity. Part of joining the co-op includes paying money for services and even donating land (in the form of easements). Everyone gets electricity if they join the co-op (even if your house is on top of a mountain like mine). Everyone is expected to invest and sacrifice a little for the betterment of all. Every member of the organization benefits. Likewise, if the cooperative has asked for too much money from its members, it is returned to them in the form of dividends. The cooperative is essentially oriented on the betterment of its members, not of profitability.

“But wait!” you ask, “Isn’t the concept of profit the defining characteristic of the capitalist system?” Yes. And I’m not saying that corporations have no place in society. But cooperatives do too. In fact, they deserve a much larger place in society than they currently enjoy. And we'll talk more about that in our next post...

Institution
Institutions are, by definition, human constructs. And they're constructed in order to bring a certain amount of stability and consistancy to human life. Institutions arise when either:

1. A beneficial human activity happens that society wants to perpetuate.

For example, education. If a society agrees that education is an important activity, they might institutionalize it. They may make it a requirement of citizenship and may standardize it's implementation.

2. A harmful human activity happens that society wants to avoid.

The legal system is an example of a human institution formed to discourage and punish harmful human behavior.

In this sense, human institutions sound like a good idea. But there are other consequences of institutions:

Institutions homogenize human behavior and culture by favoring the general over the particular

As instutions grow, the need for homogenaiety increases. This is easy to see with business. A small business that employs a few people needs less standards and policies. If problems arise, they are confronted directly, and solutions are highly customized to the particular situation. But this is not the case with a large corporate institution. Every policy must be detailed and descriptive. Every employee must follow the policy entirely. There is no "time and resources" for custom, individual solutions or discussions. The "particular" is not addressed, because the "general" is the rule.

What does this mean for the church? A Lutheran service in one corner of the country will look extremely similiar to a Lutheran service in another corner of the country. And this might sound like a nice idea. But it implies that our spirituality is essentially homogenous. "What works for me should work for you." But we know this isn't the case. Generational differences, cultural differences, and community differences are often dramatic. And they are largely ignored in preference to conforming to institutional ideas. When we sacrifice the particular for the general, we lose a certain measure of identity.

Tradition

Traditions are also human constructs. But they're an entirely different creature. Traditions arise from within the community and are perpetuated by the community. They are constructs that are compelling and relevant to the people who participate in them. If they are not compelling, relevant, or beneficial, they die. Likewise, if a community dies, its traditions die with it. Tradition is entirely dependant upon, and governed by, community.

So what is the church? An institution or a tradition? So much hangs in the balance...

As I sat in church on Sunday, looking at all the empty pews, I could not help but think that the church could learn something from the Superbowl. Think about it. The Superbowl includes:
- ritual
- community
- good food/shared meal
- celebration

Some may argue that church services include all of these things. And they're probably right. But does the church do all (or any) of these things well? Does the ritual have meaning to those who participate? Is there really a sense of community? Is pleasure taken in others' presence? Do our sacrements take on the feeling of a feast? Is there a spirit of celebration in what we do?

For many, the Superbowl is special. Everyone participates by bringing food, sharing their homes, and watching the children. For those who don't like football, there's plenty of socialization and feasting to be had. Football fans gather to share in the collective emotion of the game.

Here's why I think the Superbowl often trumps church: It's organic instead of institutionalized. There is no set liturgy for the Superbowl. Food, tradition, and location can and do change. The event is entirely the effect of the participant's self-will. Everyone has to buy-in to make a Superbowl party a good Superbowl party. When events become institutionalized, they fall into the danger of losing their organic quality.

More about this assertion in my next post.

Here's a quote from a CNN story today:

"In January alone, companies have announced more than 211,500 job cuts.

High-tech glass and ceramics maker Corning Inc. announced it will cut 3,500 jobs, or 13% of the company's workforce, by the end of 2009. The company said its restructuring efforts will save the company between $150 million and $200 million a year."

Let's take apart this quote. This story is about the tremendous number of layoffs that are accompanying this recession. But the essential emphasis of the story is economic, not social. When we see a fugure like "211,500 jobs cuts" we think about the situation in economic terms. We think in abstract terms like "industry," "labor markets", and "economic contraction." What isn't explicitly (and arguably implicitly) reported is that this means there are 211,500 families that are facing uncertainty, anxiety, and potentially destitution.

Likewise, the reference to Corning Inc. cutting 3,500 jobs is paired with the asserting that the company will "save" $150-200 million dollars a year. This "savings" is held up as a sort of consolation: "Yeah, we've put 3,500 families in turmoil, but look! We're saving money! The corporation will survive!" Who then, wil benifit from the savings? The shareholders. Who are the shareholders? The largest shareholders are undoubtedly the executives of the company.

So what we have here are executives -- the primary beneficiaries of the corportation -- looking to preserve the corporation. It is essentially self-preservation. Individuals in power take power away from those who already have little power, so that they can retain their power.Classic.

Finally, consider this:
In large corporations, human life is reduced to numerical terms. Human work becomes merely a variable in the equation of profitability. In large corporations, there is absolutely no personal connection between the people in power and the laborers. None of these executives have to look into the eyes of the people they fire. (They should have to.)

I'm not blaming people who work for large corporations. But this is the reality of mega-corporations and capitalism. Workers are abstract, numerical entitities to the corporation .* And this reality sucks for 212, 000 families.

It's time to stopping obsessing about the world in economic terms. It's time to start caring about the world in social terms. That will bring revolution.

*I'm not necessarily asserting the the corporate model doesn't work. I'm just saying it doesn't work on a large scale. More on this soon.

Back in August of last year, Congress passed an act called the Consumer Product Safety Improvement Act. It was meant to protect children from dangerous chemicals (primarily lead and phalates) in toys and children's items. The new law requires everyone selling or producing children's products to have their products tested. The "commission" (2 bureaucrats) in charge of implementing this act have recently voted to exempt the following items. Cotton, wool, gemstones, certain precious metals of a certain quality, and wood. HOWEVER, those products cannot be altered. If there is any dye in the wool or cotton, it must be tested. If the wood has any varnish, it must be tested. If the jewelry uses any sauter, it must be tested.

(If you want more information on this issue, look here.)

This is ridiculous! God bless globalization. Either all our children are going to be wearing brave-new-world clothing that's all the same undyed color, or huge corporations will be the only manufacturers of children's clothing. No one else can afford to test their products! This law essential fucks every home-producer of children's items. Every creator of children's items -- as of Feb 10th, 2009 -- will be selling illegal items. They can be criminally prosecuted.

Obviously, there's going to be no way to enforce this law with small producers. But small producers whose businesses are expanding will be constantly fearful the government will find out about their non-tested items and throw them in jail. Thus small producers must remain small and unobserved by the government. It will be cost-prohibitive for small producers to test all their products from the inception of their business with the hope their business will become big enough some day to be profitable.

(It's not that I'm against safe toys for children. But we're poisoning our own children by supporting the globalized supply chain. We are so removed from our products we cannot hope to know what they contain. It's our own damn fault. However, more bureaucracy only hurts small producers, benefits large corporations, and furthers globalization. )

So what is one to do? Fuck the government! Keep selling your wares! Let's see them start arresting stay-at-home moms for selling wool hats! It's time to organize, time to support small producers, time for large-scale civil disobedience on this issue.

Viva La Revolución!

So last week a bunch of us AK guys got together to discuss politics, economics, and philosophy. It was a fascinating and intense discussion. Represented among were a Quaker, Mormon, Berkeley student, myself, and a couple dirty ski bums. After having expounded on the generally shitty state of ... a lot of stuff... we decided to go around the room and have everyone share thier "utopian vision."

Our visions ranged from a Darwinian hunter-gatherer society (and a mass population decline) to a "Arther C Clark techno-society", to a local-food-based society. All the ideas were fascinating and had their own merit.

My vision centered around the idea of community -- largely due to the influence Wendell Berry's writing have had on me recently. More broadly, I've been thinking lately about power, powerlessness, and empowerment, and self-determinism:

For instance, let's take a look at how our local communities are "self-governed." I can think of no public service (with the possible exception of utility companies) where there is not some sort of federal control and/or contribution. Our fire and poice departments get money from the Dept. of Homeland Security. Our transporation infastructure is largely financed with federal dollars. Our schools receive federal funding. All of this money has strings attached. In all of these cases, of the local agency must do a, b and c to receive monies. And they have to meet x, y, and z standards.

While this presumably creates a system of accountability for government agencies, the essential effects of such a system are twofold:

1. First, it makes local communities dependent on support from a large and definitively foreign organization. The comminuty is no longer self-sufficent, it is no longer independent. It needs the inputs of resources and capital to maintain jobs and public services. Thus it is forced to agree to any limitations or stipulations put in place by the federal governement.

2. It divorces the members of a cummunity from the health of the community.*

* Let me explain. When outside sources provide "public" services to the community. The community no longer has to worry about it's own health. In a concrete way, this takes place every day. My wife and I know several people who purposely remain below a certain income line (to the point of refusing to work) in order to gain "public assistance." A free cell phone, free medical care, heating assistance, free daycare, free food are just some of the benefits these individuals receive. Conservatives might argue that our public assistance is broken when people are so easily abuse it. Likewise, they might say that none of these services are actually free. They come from the tax dollars of other citizens. And I would have to agree with them whole-heartedly. But the real problem is that assistance comes from an outside, abstract entity. If these same people had to ask, face to face, for assistance from their more wealthy neighbors, most would not do it! The sham of public assistance (and other federal bureacracies) is that is has allowed the death of the community.

To continue this example, if one had to ask other members of the cummunity for assistance, those gaining assistance would have a face to place with the assistance. "Uncle Sam" did not give him or her the money. "John Smith down the street" did. Thus as someone receiving assistance, one understands that they are taking those resources from another human being. This creates a sense of accountability. If one has been offered resources from another individual, one will be more likely to use those resources wisely. Additionally, only members of society with real need would ask for money. Our human pride does an excellent job of keeping us a independent as possible. To ask for assistance from a neighbor is to admit to presently being a liability of the community.

Likewise, on the "supply side" of this transaction, the person giving money has a face to place with their gift. They have a story and a name to place with their resources. And they'll likely invest themselves into the outcome.

Community is beginning to form. Power is given back to the disadvantaged, along with accountability, to do their part as functioning members of the community. Power is given back to the priviledged to make a tangible difference. Power -- in short -- returns to the community.The community becomes a little more independent, and little more self-sustaining.

(Now, I have a lot more to say about power, powerlessness, and self-determinism, but let this be a primer)

Check this out:

"Trustees for Alaska, representing coastal Native villages, commercial fishermen, and Cook Inletkeeper, charged in court today that the Environmental Protection Agency repeatedly manipulated and sometimes falsified pollution data to support its decision to allow the operators of 19 aging oil and gas facilities to dump increasing amounts of polluted wastewater into Cook Inlet.

In a brief filed in the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals, Trustees for Alaska argued that EPA Administrator Stephen L. Johnson violated the Clean Water Act in June of 2007 when he reissued a permit allowing Union Oil Company of California (Unocal) and other operators to dump, among other toxic pollutants, 279 tons of oil and grease into Cook Inlet every year. Unocal’s Trading Bay Production Facility discharges about 95% of the pollution coming from the Cook Inlet facilities.

The facilities began pumping oil – and discharging pollution – in the 1960s. Most of the pollution comes from millions of gallons of seawater that is injected into the subterranean oil reservoir to maintain pressure but becomes contaminated in the process. As oil and gas are pumped to the surface, they are separated from the seawater, which is left with a toxic mixture of oil, grease, heavy metals, and other pollutants. At offshore wells elsewhere in Alaska and

throughout the country, EPA requires operators to reinject this toxic soup back into the reservoir, achieving “zero discharge” of pollution. Only in Cook Inlet does EPA allow the contaminated brew to be dumped directly into coastal waters.

As the oil reservoirs beneath the Inlet have been pumped nearly dry, more and more seawater is required to keep up the pressure – and more pollution is being dumped into Cook Inlet. Today’s filing by Trustees for Alaska cites EPA documents showing that the waste stream has doubled since 1999, and is projected to grow to nearly 10 million gallons per day during the 5-year life of the challenged permit.

To accommodate the growing torrents of pollution, EPA has relied on vastly larger “mixing zones” – areas of Cook Inlet at the end of each discharge pipe where high concentrations of pollution are allowed. The theory is that by the time the contamination reaches the edge of a “mixing zone,” enough dilution has occurred to render the water outside the mixing zone clean enough to comply with water quality standards.

The new mixing zones are as much as 10 times larger than those approved by EPA in 1999 – extending more than 2 miles from an outfall in any direction.

“Instead of telling the operators to recycle their wastewater – like they do everywhere else in the U.S. – EPA has labeled more and more of Cook Inlet as a waste dump for the exclusive use of these oil companies,” said Massey.

Today’s court filing charges that allowing the increased pollution violates “antibacksliding” provisions of the Clean Water Act, which is aimed at reducing and eventually eliminating water pollution."

- Excerpted from the Cook Inlet Keepers Press Release Dec. 16th. You can find it here.

Who knew that oil and gas corporations are allowed to dump heavy metals and other toxic chemicals into Cook Inlet? And that this in the only place in the nation it's allowed? Virtually all the fish I eat comes from Cook Inlet. How can we allow this sort of thing to happen, and naively believe it's not going to affect anything? This is just outrageous. They have "sacrifice zones" near the outlet of all this contaminated sea water that kills every fish that swims through it.

You can hear an Alaska News Nightly audio story about it here.

Please contact your elected officials about this matter.

I've been considering this quote from Neitzche's Beyond Good and Evil lately:

"What astonishes one about the religiousity of the ancient Greeks is the tremendous amount of gratitude that emanates from it -- the kind of man who stands thus before nature and before life is a very noble one! -- Later, when the rabble came to predominate in Greece, fear also overran religion; and Christianity was preparing itself."

(I love Neitzche if only because he puts it all out there. No mincing words or trying to be P.C. for him!)

This quote has got me thinking about the role of gratitude and fear in the religious life. My assertion is this: gratitude is a more transcendent, refined state of mind than fear. And thus harder to acheive. It takes a significant level of mindfulness to really be grateful for everything in our lives. But fear? Fear is one of the few truly primitive emotions we feel. Fear comes from our most instinctual mind. It is thus immeadiate and strong when it arrives. It enters our biology.

And fear inspires action (flight/fight response). As a social tool, fear is a much more effective means of control and power than gratitude. Religious leaders who can inspire fear in their followers can largely inspire them to action. The same cannot be said for gratitude. Revolutions do not start with a lot of really grateful people.

I think we have to be careful to recognize how fear plays into our religious discourse. I think the Bible largely preaches a message of gratitude and grace. Not fear. And so we must be diligent in examining how our religious leaders propogate fear and how that fear gives them power.

Likewise, we need to create a religious discourse about gratitude. What every happened to feasts and festivals? Do we ever really gather together to simply give thanks to God? A religious culture of gratitude is a culture of deep faith and deep contentment. That's what we should be striving for.

Thoughts stemming from the last few days:

1. Corporate America is run, obviously, by CEOs, CFOs and boards of directors. Most of these people are paid primarily in stock options. So when tough times come, what is corporate America's first obligation? To save jobs or save stock prices? I can't help but think about this as we hear about the vast amount of layouts announced daily by big corporations. I'm not necessary saying that corporate leaders should suddenly become charity workers. I simply think the corporate system is -- and always has been -- broken. And many, many people are paying the price for that right now.

2. As the Obama transition team considers a potentially HUGE stimulus package for 2009, one has to wonder: Do they know more than we do? Are we on the verge of real and total economic collapse? Throwing this sort of money , repeatedly, into the marketplace seems like an almost desperate act. Acts of desperation on the part of our leaders makes one wonder whether we aren't teetering on the edge of an abyss we have yet to acknowledge...

3. The government has given hundreds of billions of dollars to financial instirutions already, but look poised to not loan 15 billion to car makers. Are the banks that much more important than the auto makers? Some say the collapse of the big three could cost 10 million jobs throughout the economy. I'm not saying we should bail out businesses that make stupid decisions. But it seems the gov't has already set that precedent by bailing out the banks. My big concern is, if the banks get bailed out but the automakers fail, people will start to see the bailout as only for whitecollar workers. This could lead to huge social unrest... bad for governement. Good for change.

As a short follow-up on my post: Do we take God for his word? I've been having a lot of conversations lately about the concept of leadership. The church I belong to lost a very "hands-on" pastor a couple years ago. He set the vision and worked hard to make the vision a reality. But since that time, the church been adrift in terms of vision, future, or any real action. And this has perplexed me. Usually -- I thought -- when there is a leadership/power vacuum, people often fill that vacuum. That has not been the case at church and that's surprised me. Lately I've learned (and yes, I realize I'm behind the curve) that the vast majority of people are followers and not leaders. This is probably not a shocking revelation to most. But I'm surprised that so many people live so passively, so fearfully...so unempowered. (more on this later)

The pastor today preached on John the Baptist. Literarily, it was a good sermon about living with courage, speaking the truth, and standing up to injustice. But like every Sunday it fell on mostly deaf ears. At staff meeting this week, I asked the pastors "The prophets, John the Baptist, and Jesus lived almost entirely outside of the religious institution and outside of the empire. How then, do you take that same message into the "belly of the beast" so-to-speak? How do you as a pastor living in the center of the empire and the center of the religious institution preach to the most priviledged people in the world? How do we remain faithful to the message?"

And while I wasn't entirely satisfied with their answers, one of the pastors said "In some respects, we're here to perpetuate the institution." That's one of the most honest statements I've heard from anyone in a long time...

So how do we remain faithful to a revolutionary message? How does that look different than "perpetuating an institution?" Much to consider...

** First, let me start by saying that I do not condone terrorism or violence. As a means of revolution, violence is essentially unimaginative and often ineffective.**

Terrorism has, unfortunately, become a real political force in the past decade. It's not that terrorism did not exist before 9/11, but since 2001, it has become a much more potent political force for a variety of reasons. Most of these reasons have to do with the United States. Below is a list of reasons we are, in some respect, enabling terrorism as a political force.

1. Our bullshit foreign policy.

I'm not going to go into this deeply, as it should be evident to most. The Taliban and Saddam Hussein? Guess who helped them to power during the Cold War? When we f*** around with other countries' leadership, arm rebels who we think will be our allies, and then destroy them and their countries when they didn't turn out how we hoped, who do we have to blame but ourselves ?

2. Our fascination with terrorism and it's entrance into American discourse

We can not deny that terrorism became a central issue in American discourse on 9/11. However, the problem with our obsession with terrorism is that it lends legitimacy to the acts of terrorism. Every crazy asshole with a bomb can become globally famous because of our obsession with and sensitivity to acts of terror. Their plight and ideology is instantly broadcast around the world on countless media outlets. Consider the recent attacks in Mumbai. Almost 200 people died, and it's a terrible tragedy. But during those same three days, thousands died in less dramatic ways. Across the world neglected, lost, and forgotten people died quietly from disease, hunger, poverty and war. No one will remember their names. By focusing obsessively on terror and terrorism we give immense power to terroists: the power to enter our discourse. They leave the fringe of society and make their home in the middle of it, entirely becasue they enter our social discourse.

Additionally, I've been thinking about where our fascination with terrorism comes from. And in doing so, I recalled Neitzche:

"After the fabric of society seems on the whole established and secured against external dangers, it is this fear of our neighbor which again creates new perspectives of moral valuation…The lofty independent spirituality, the will to stand alone, and even the cogent reason, are felt to be dangerous; everything that elevates the individual above the herd, and is a source of fear to the neighbor, is henceforth called evil; the tolerant, unassuming, self-adapting, self-equalizing disposition, the mediocrity of desires, attend a moral distinction and honor.”

In Beyond Good and Evil, Neitzche asserts that once a society has established itself against external dangers, it becomes essentially a passive society. This would seem to fit the USA. We have, in the past decade, condemned all forms of "extremism." But what is extremism except a held conviction of truth that inspires action? In a society where so few of us have beliefs or causes that we are willing to die for, I think we are fascinated -- and terrified -- of people who do. I think that is what keeps us glued to the screen. We are fascinated by a level of conviction, belief, and certainty that we find foreign and bizarre.

3. Our Technology

We have, through our techology, brought the conflicts of the world into our own homes, towns and cities. When the superpowers of the world have the technology to sense the heat of a body in the dead of night and rain down death from an unmanned plane thousands of feet in the air, people who would violently oppose the state have no choice but to bring the conflict into our cities and among our citizenry. No armed group would ever consider entering into direct armed conflict with the military of any developed nation. It would be suicide and highly ineffective. The battlefield is no longer a viable option for armed groups, and so they take the battlefield into the civilian world: the only place they stand a chance.

As the world's superpowers have developed weapons of mass destruction, we've created two conditions:
- "Real wars" fought among nations will be absolutely destructive
- Armed groups that hope to oppose any state are reduced to guerilla and terrorist tactics.

...good times.

Thailand: A case (hopefully) of revolution without violence

Finally, to reflect on the situation in Thailand. As it stands now, protesters have taken over Bangkoks two main airports without violence. Having barracaded themselves in, media reports indicate the airports have a sort of "carnival" atmosphere with musicians, people donating food and clean clothes.

It's a good old-fashion sit-in!

In the meantime the court has dissolved the ruling party and change might be on the way. Another case of imaginative, non-violent protests being more effective that violence.

Pray that the situation remains peacful.

After having pussy-footed around long enough, I've decided to sit down and begin to seriously propose how we can revolutionize our society and economic system for the better:

I've been reading a collections of essay from Wendel Berry recently. I'm sold on a lot of his ideas. Berry is not a hopelessy optimistic agrarian. He doesn't assert that the entirety of civilization must resort to an agrarian lifestyle. But he does present a compelling argument for the detruction of true community by various social and economic forces. In this sense , Berry is a prophet. His warnings and ideas penned in the 80's and 90's are perhaps more relevant today than they were twenty years ago.

But this is not a book review. I just wanted to give credit for the seed of my ideas:

In our economic system, we believe in a concept called the "economy of scale." In the simplest terms, economy of scale means that when you produce a lot of one thing, the price per item tends to go down. It's why McDonalds can sell us a cheeseburger that costs much less than if we made ourselves a hamburger. McDonalds produces on such a massive scale, that their productions costs per unit are extremely small.

With globalization, we've seen the idea of economy of scale reach almost unthinkable proportions. (For instance, I recently saw that 80% of America's hops are grown in the Yakima valley by only 40 growers. These farms are huge! As a beer lover, pray for good weather in Yakima!) While I hope to talk about economy of scale as an economic issue is a future post, my concern is this:

We tend to apply the idea of economy of scale to our communities.

Think about it for a second. Our personal communities often transcend (trangress?) physical boundaries. We can be "friends" -- in a Myspace sort of way -- with people far beyond our neighborhood, town, country, or even continent. And while I am strongly suspicious that any real community is created by these online communities, the fact that we have so many ways to connect suggests we do all of them poorly. Why would we spend so much time communicating with people across the globe when we don't know our next door neighbor? The shear economy of scale of our social sphere necessitates that many of our relationships are shallow, short-lived, or purely digital. To bring in our McDonalds metaphor again, you may be able to get a lot more burgers at McDonalds for the price of a home-made one, but they sure don't taste as good.

Wendell Berry asserts that when one has meaningful connections -- meaningful community -- with the people and the land around oneself, one begins to treat his neighbors and the land better. One becomes an involved, participating member of a real community. This sense of ownership compels one to make decisions not only good for oneself, but good for the people and land around oneself as well.

more to come...

We sit in the throne of empire -- the throne's legs are those wealth, priviledge, apathy, and excess. Throughout the Bible we find God, the prophets and the Messiah constantly speaking against these pillars of empire. And so it's always interesting to see how pastors address their congregation. Many of the readings in the standard lectionary are harsh criticisms of injustice, wealth, and priviledge. Much of our lectionary is dark, judgemental, and damning of our lifestyle. Consider this past week's OT reading:

"I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep, and I will make them lie down, says the Lord God. I will seek the lost, and I will bring back the strayed, and I will bind up the injured, and I will strengthen the weak, but the fat and the strong I will destroy. I will feed them with justice.

20 Therefore, thus says the Lord God to them: I myself will judge between the fat sheep and the lean sheep. ²¹Because you pushed with flank and shoulder, and butted at all the weak animals with your horns until you scattered them far and wide, ²²I will save my flock, and they shall no longer be ravaged; and I will judge between sheep and sheep."

-from Ezekiel 34

If we take God at His word, this text has profound implications on our lives. We are the fat sheep. And there's a million ways every day we "push and butt" our weaker neighbors/countries/cultures. This passage alone ought to inspire a tremendous discourse on politics, economics, and culture. In what ways to we push and butt our neighbors? How do we stop? How does our global system need to change in order to become just?

Alas, I've never heard a clergy member begin a serious discourse on such things. And I've never seen a congregation pour themselves into answering such deep questions. It's too uncomfortable; it makes us squirm.

There's a reason the prophets were killed. There's a reason John the Baptist was not a member of the priestly class. There's a reason they hung Jesus on a tree. Speaking the truth is dangerous work. One does not get paid for speaking the truth, one gets killed for it.

May we all live and speak a little more dangerously.

Over the course of the last couple of weeks, I've had several conversations with friends and families regarding the economy. And the one conclusion I've come to is this:

Solutions are not going to come easily.

In one of these conversations, myself and an old high school aquaintence were considering what it would take to make our economic system healthy. And while we did not agree on everything, we both agreed than any sort of "fix" would require a dramatic shift in the American lifestyle. One of us posed the question, "Are Americans able and willing to make any sort of big change in their lifestyle?"

It's a profoundly important question to ask. Does our collective behavior have an inevitability to it? Is our collective behavior entirely the effect of economics and government? Or can we as a society educate and inspire ourselves to act dramatically for change? I suppose one's answer would depend on one's optimism or cynicism regarding human nature. But this is an extraordinarily basic and profound question. If our collective or "herd" behavior is purely the result of economic realities and government oversight -- if we truly live under the "tyranny of the masses" --we should be looking at increased government intervention for our salvation. But if we believe that our collective behavior can be significantly shaped by moral and ethical forces, our last best hope is social revolution.

I don't have an answer for this question. But I'm leaning toward optimism. And thus revolution.

After having reviewed my previous post, I'm not sure that I agree with myself about everything. But I did want to pick up and continue one point from the previous post:

Free-market capitalism centers itself upon growth. The prevailing theory is that economies either grow or shrink; they are never static. But here's the problem, here's the elephant in the room:
The global economy cannot grow forever. There are finite resources. And while we may not see the limitations of our resources now, there is a day when our consumption WILL consume that last pund of iron, the last cup of fresh water, the last barrel of oil, or the last (place resource here). It's a dramatic scenario, I'll grant you. But human consumption cannot keep up it's pace. The math just doesn't add up.

(If we think technology will save us, we're putting an immense amount of faith in the god of machines. More to come on this in my upcoming essay The Technology of Decline)

There are very optimistic capitalists out there that believe that we're a long, long way from encountering the limits of our resources. And they believe that free market captalism is THE answer to the worlds problems. According to these people, the ultimate goal of capitalism, the final result of all our efforts, it to create a wealthy, well-educated, global society. A society that looks like America. (This is where free market capitalism intersect cultural colonization). But let's be realistic. Where have all of the most undesirable jobs in the US gone? Where are the American textile workers, the American steel workers, the American electronics manufacturers? Where are the assembly lines of industrial America? There gone. But the products aren't gone, are they? We can still by cars, clothing and computers. We've sent these jobs -- essentially dehomanizing tasks of mass production -- to what we term the "developing world."

What a lovely name, "developing world!" It conjures up images of potential, of growth, of progress. But no mistake, the developed world needs someone to make us the products we use. We've become wealthy enough as a nation that we've found cheaper means of production abroad -- namely, exploited people willing to work dehumanizing tasks for the chance to live a little bit more like Americans (hmm... another intersection of economics and cultural colonization). We don't actually want the developed world to become developed because all of a sudden we lose our cheap labor and thus our cheap goods. When everyone in the world has the ability to choose not to work in dehumanizing circumstances, the basic labor of mass production stops. Free-market capitalism's dirty little secret is that it needs a class of impoverished people without any other choice that to become an apendage of the mass production system. When we start paying American's minimum wage to the workers who manufacture our computers, toys and clothes, we suddenly become unable to afford our previous lifestyle. Our lifestyle depends on an impoverished class.

So, what does this have to do with a growth economy? The growth economy is a farce, at least as a vehicle for social progess or real human betterment. Not only is it unsustainable from a resource point of view, it's also unable to create an equitable and just society in any large context.

Now I realized the above ideas aren't fleshed out fully -- I'm using this blog as a way to toy with ideas-- but if we can agree that:
A. Our current economic system is fundamentally unsustainable in regards to resources.
B. Our system relies on cheap labor and thus a subjugated class.

WHAT IS THE ALTERNATIVE?

The short answer is there is no current alternative. We need to create one. But that's precisely why a financial meltdown might be a good thing. It's a perfect opportunity to look at building the system from the ground up. I've heard many people say, for instance, "there's no going back from globalization." I would append their statement to say, "there's no going back from globalization without a lot of pain." Excellent then! We're in a lot of pain! Now is the time to start thinking deeply about what a future economic system might look like. What would normally be an impossible task of revolutionizing an entire economic system has become possible. The powerful and vast mechanisms of our current system are on the fritz. What better time to throw a monkey-wrench into the entire machine, send it to the scrap-yard, and begin again?

"Financial ruin! Depression! Collapse! Meltdown!"

Just a few words we've been hearing from countless news sources lately. But let me offer a different view:

A serious depression and/or economic collapse might be the best thing to happen to American culture, and perhaps the American economy in some time. And here's why: American capitalism, for a while now, has turned into a monster. The original goal of free market capitialism was to reward the ingenuity of real people creating real products to meet real needs. But this had not been the case for some time now. The "new" goal of free market capitalism is self-preservation and self- interest. Capital in the marketplace seeks to create more capital, more wealth. But when the real needs of an society have been met, there is no place for that capital to go except into supplying and meeting false needs (all the useless shit we own), and moving money around in synthetic and "unreal" ways that creates more capital (credit default swaps, derivites, and short-selling). The system looks to have failed. And it gives us an amazing opportunity to rebuild the system in the way it should be built.

Free-market capitalism is not, by it's nature, bad. It has been an amazing force for innovation and technology. The fundamental problem with our economic system, however, is that our's is a growth-based economy. It always seeks to grow, for when in stops growing, it starts contracting. What we fail to realize is that growth unchecked is cancer. A system based on growth for survival and self-preservation does not ask, "How should we be growing? Is growth ever destructive? Is there a point where the global economy has grown as much as it possible can, that growth must stop?" These are fundamental questions that lie at the foundation of our economic system. But they are questions we rarely ask.

Most living bodies grow until they reach their proper limits. They stop growing and start sustaining; their fundamental goal has changed. If cells in a body continues to grow unchecked, we call that cancer. And cancer leads to poor health or death. It is the same for populations of living beings. When a population exceeds its proper limits, disease, famine, overconsumption and subsequent scarcity make the population decline. What crazy idea then, that our economy can continue growing into perpetuity! Nothing in nature, history or science suggests that this is possible. And yet our entire economic system is founded on this one principal, this one goal.

What if the fundemental goal of our economy changes from growth to sustainability? Would would that mean? What would that look like?

more...