Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Some Easy Straw Men: Zack Beauchamp, Sanders, Economics, and Identity Politics

















By Lambert Strether of Corrente.
















Zack Beauchamp has written an important though bad piece in Vox, titled “No easy answers: why left-wing economics is not the answer to right-wing populism”. Beauchamp’s piece is important because liberal icon Paul Krugman, in his bullshit-in-a-china-shop way, immediately leveraged it into an open assault on universal benefits like Medicare for All (and also, implicitly, Social Security[1]). Beauchamp’s piece is bad, aside from its policy implications, because it contains major misstatements, major errors of interpretation, and because it both begins and ends with a straw man attack on Bernie Sanders that seriously distorts his views. I’m going to begin with a brief discussion of identity politics, because that will set the context for how Beauchamp strawmanned Sanders.

Justice and Identity Politics


[R]ace politics is not an alternative to class politics; it is a class politics, the politics of the left-wing of neoliberalism. It is the expression and active agency of a political order and moral economy in which capitalist market forces are treated as unassailable nature [TINA]. An integral element of that moral economy is displacement of the critique of the invidious outcomes produced by capitalist class power onto equally naturalized categories of ascriptive identity [for example, perceived skin color] that sort us into groups supposedly defined by what we essentially are rather than what we do. As I have argued, following Walter Michaels and others, within that moral economy a society in which 1% of the population controlled 90% of the resources could be just, provided that roughly 12% of the 1% were black, 12% were Latino, 50% were women, and whatever the appropriate proportions were LGBT people. It would be tough to imagine a normative ideal that expresses more unambiguously the social position of people who consider themselves candidates for inclusion in, or at least significant staff positions in service to, the ruling class.

Indeed. Can such a society be just? After all, Reed describes the workings of an oligarchy. Can an oligarchy be just? I argue no:

So, if we ask an identitarian whether shipping the Rust Belt’s jobs off to China was fair — the moral of the story — the answer we get is: “That depends. If the private equity firms that did it were 12% black, 12% Latino, and half women, then yes.” And that really is the answer that the Clintonites give. And, to this day, they believe it’s a winning one.

Now, readers who are on the Twitter — the liberal and/or left parts of it, anyhow — will remember that after the Clinton debacle on November 8, 2016, an enormous and very messy battle immediately broke out, expressed in crude terms as “identity politics” versus “class politics” (shorthand: “economics”), and in more humane terms as what the relationship between class and identity might be, and how to express it. The more vulgar sort of liberal Clintonite would argue — still argues — that economics plays, and should play, no role in the construction of identity; the more vulgar left Sanders supporter, in a move reminiscent of the crude base/superstructure model of the 30s, would argue identity is a mere function of economics. In terms of party leadership, the issue was settled when the left’s candidate, Ellison, was ritually sacrificed by the liberal establishment, but the battle, perhaps attenuated to a heated discussion, necessarily continues today, wherever politics is practiced seriously. With this as context, let’s turn to Beauchamp.

Beauchamp Strawmans Sanders


On November 20, less than two weeks after Donald Trump’s upset win, Bernie Sanders strode onto a stage at Boston’s Berklee Performance Center to give the sold-out audience his thoughts on what had gone so disastrously wrong for the Democratic Party.

Sanders had a simple answer. Democrats, he said, needed to field candidates who would unapologetically promise that they would be willing “to stand up with the working class of this country andtake on big-money interests.”

Democrats, in other words, would only be able to defeat Trump and others like him if they adopted an anti-corporate, unabashedly left-wing policy agenda. The answer to Trump’s right-wing populism, Sanders argued, was for the left to develop a populism of its own.

Well, I went and looked at what Sanders said. (The complete video of the Sanders speech is at the Boston Globe: “You can now watch Bernie Sanders’s full Boston speech on identity politics and the progressive movement.”) Boston Magazine sets the scene: “An audience member asked if Bernie Sanders, her hero, had any tips for realizing her dream of becoming the second Latina ever elected to the Senate. ‘Let me respond to the question in a way that you may not be happy with,’ Sanders said.” Here’s a partial video, with a transcript (slightly cleaned up) that gives the complete context of Sanders remarks. I have helpfully underlined the portion that Beauchamp quoted, so you can see what he omitted:

[SANDERS] It goes without saying, that as we fight to end all forms of discrimination, as we fight to bring more and more women into the political process, Latinos, African Americans, Native Americans – all of that is enormously important, and count me in as somebody who wants to see that happen. But it is not good enough for somebody to say, “Hey, I’m a Latina, vote for me.” That is not good enough. I have to know whether that Latina is going to stand up with the working class of this country and is going to take on big-money interests. And one of the struggles that we’re going to have right now, lay it on the table in the Democratic Party, is that it’s not good enough for me to say, well, we have x number of African Americans over here, we have y number of Latinos, we have z number of women, we are a diverse party, a diverse nation. Not good enough! We need that diversity, that goes without saying, that is accepted. Right now we’ve made some progress in getting into politics. I think we’ve got 20 women in the Senate now, we need 50 women in the Senate. We need more African Americans. But here is my point – and this is where there’s going to be a division within the Democratic Party – it is not good enough for somebody to say, “I’m a woman, vote for me.” No, that’s not good enough. What we need is a woman who has the guts to stand up to Wall Street, to the insurance companies, to the drug companies, to the fossil fuel companies…In other words, one of the struggles that you’re going to be seeing in the Democratic Party is whether we go beyond identity politics. I think it’s a step forward in America if you have an African American CEO of some major corporation. But you know what? If that guy is going to be shipping jobs out of this country and exploiting his workers, it doesn’t mean a whole heck of a lot if he’s black or white or Latino.

A few points. First, you can see how Sanders’ X, Y, Z trope directly reproduces Reed’s thinking on identity politics (and Reed’s views on justice, as well). Second, Sanders is intervening very directly in the left/liberal battle over identity politics alluded to above. Third, it’s disingenuous of Beachamp to characterize what Sanders is saying as a “simple answer”; anybody who follows these issues knows they’re complex, personally and politically. Sanders knows that, too, since he prefaces his answer with “you may not be happy with.” Finally, Beauchamp rips Sanders’ words from their context to construct his “populism” straw man; what Sanders is advocating at Berklee isn’t “populism” — whatever that means, and Beauchamp never defines it — but a form of (working) class politics that includes and transcends (Hegel might say “subsumes”) identity politics; both/and, not either/or. Which makes perfect sense, because you have to approach people from where they are and how they see themselves, no? Anyhow, if strawmanning and taking out of context don’t bother you, read on!

Beauchamp and the History of Social Democracy

Beauchamp presents the following chart (which I have helpfully annotated in red):











Based on that chart, he asks the following question:

The chart [above], from the London School of Economics’ Simon Hix and the University of London’s Giacomo Benedetto, show how those [social democratic] parties have done in elections in 18 Western European countries between 1945 and 2016. This creates a puzzle: Why did voters who by and large benefit from social democracy turn against the parties that most strongly support it?

Beauchamp, of course, assumes that the social democratic parties pursued the same policies in the 1945-2016 period. But that’s simply not so:

During the inflationary crisis of the 1970s, elite policymakers in Western Europe came to the conclusion that it was no longer possible for the welfare state to operate as it had since 1945. Their project thereafter has been twofold: to convince the public that their diagnosis is right, and to enact (what they consider) necessary neoliberal reforms by any means necessary.

In other words, there’s an inflection point in the mid-70s — I’ve helpfully added the red line marked (1) to the rawther flat curve in Beauchamp’s chart to show it — where the neoliberal dispensation began, just as in the United States. The answer to Beauchamp’s question “Why did voters who by and large benefit from social democracy turn against the parties that most strongly support it?” is that the parties stopped supporting it, even though the voters supported it, there as here. There is no puzzle at all.

Beauchamp and European Immigration

Based on the same chart, Beauchamp also urges:

So it’s not that European social democrats failed to sell their economic message, or that economic redistribution became unpopular. It’s that economic issues receded in importance at the same time as Europe was experiencing a massive, unprecedented wave of nonwhite, non-Christian immigration.

That, in turn, brought some of the most politically potent nonmaterial issues — race, identity, and nationalism — to the forefront of Western voters’ mind [sic].

It’s not clear to me whether Beauchamp regards immigration from 1945-2016 as a single, continuous phenomenon, or not. I doubt that it is; if we limit scope to asylum claims, the numbers look like this:










However, again, Beauchamp leaves out an inflection point — the red line marked (2) shows it — that being the great Crash of 2008, followed by the imposition of years of austerity and grinding unemployment, continuing crises, crapification of services, suicides, etc. Are we really to believe that the European social democrats sold “their economic message” successfully during after 2008? And are we really to believe that “politically potent nonmaterial issues” are not affected by material (economic) issues? And are we really to believe that the material conditions of austerity didn’t affect “Western voters’ minds?” Glenn Greenwald writes:

[E]conomic suffering and xenophobia/racism are not mutually exclusive. The opposite is true: The former fuels the latter, as sustained economic misery makes people more receptive to tribalistic scapegoating. That’s precisely why plutocratic policies that deprive huge portions of the population of basic opportunity and hope are so dangerous. Claiming that supporters of Brexit or Trump or Corbyn or Sanders or anti-establishment European parties on the left and right are motivated only by hatred but not genuine economic suffering and political oppression is a transparent tactic for exonerating status quo institutions and evading responsibility for doing anything about their core corruption.

Indeed.

Conclusion

Beauchamp concludes, and no, I’m not making this up, this is really his last sentence:

If Democrats really want to stop right-wing populists like Trump, they need a strategy that blunts the true drivers of their appeal — and that means focusing on more than economics.

Leave aside the vacuity — what on earth can “more than economics” possibly be, other than vague handwaving? — and go back to what Sanders really said. “Focusing on more than economics” is exactly what Sanders wants to do. SMH.

NOTES

[1] At this point, we remember this story from David Sirota, from November 2, 2016: “Hillary Clinton Economic Team Planned Secret Meeting With Wall Street Mogul Pushing To Shift Retiree Savings To Financial Firms.” In other words, the Democrat Establishment has never surrendered the idea of a Grand Bargain, and so whatever their first priority may be, it’s not economic justice. As I keep saying, election 2016 has been wonderfully clarifying.











Tuesday, March 21, 2017

On the recent reception of his LGBT remarks








https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=inbGowesFcg























Monday, March 20, 2017

Žižek On Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-heI382XC8Y






















How Effective a Weapon Is Satire Against Tyranny?



























The chronology of resistance through political humor hits theaters this March.








March 14, 2017











Making fun of the powerful is the key to all great comedy, but does it really have an impact? How effective is satire, as a weapon against tyranny? 

“Humor is the weapon of the weak,” argues Israeli satirist Etgar Keret in The Last Laugh, a feature documentary about humor and social taboos after the Holocaust. His formulation is not a criticism, but rather an assertion that comedy is one of the few arms the downtrodden have to wield against their oppressors.

“We make jokes about our bosses, we make jokes about death. When I was in the army we made jokes about our commanders," Keret says. "Our commanders didn’t need to make jokes about us—they could just order us to do whatever they wanted us to do.”

Actor and producer Mel Brooks ascribes to a philosophy he calls “revenge through ridicule," which targets Nazi Germany and the hatemongers it continues to inspire long after Hitler's defeat.

“By making fun of the Nazis, you’re taking away their power,” says comedian Susie Essman.

Charlie Chaplin’s The Great Dictator is remembered as a withering assault on Hitler, but its director has said he would not have made the film had he known of the Final Solution. Theodor Adorno famously said, "there can be no poetry after Auschwitz." Yet decades later, almost no topic appears to be off-limits for today’s comics.

Whether the comedy in question achieves any kind of political or social goal is a separate question. Auschwitz survivor Renee Firestone, the documentary's main subject, recalls approaching her father with her fears about the new German chancellor and his anti-Semitic tirades.

“My father told me, ‘Don’t listen to that comedian. Don’t you see he looks like Charlie Chaplin? He’ll be out of power in no time.’ Well, my father was wrong.”

Woody Allen deals with that same dilemma in a famous bit from his 1980 film Manhattan. At a black-tie cocktail party, Allen's character Isaac interrupts the conversation (led by “Saturday Night Live” writer and performer Michael O’Donoghue) to address an upcoming neo-Nazi march in New Jersey.

“We should go down there, get some guys together, you know, get some bricks and baseball bats, and really explain things to them,” Isaac suggests. The following dialogue ensues:

Party Guest: There was this devastating satirical piece on that in the op-ed page of the Times. It was devastating.

Isaac: Well, a satirical piece in the Times is one thing, but bricks and baseball bats really get right to the point.

Party Guest #2: Oh, but really biting satire is always better than physical force.

Isaac: No, physical force is always better with Nazis. It’s hard to satirize a guy in shiny boots.

As Allen suggests, one of the prime dangers of satire is that it simply soothes those with similar sensibilities without effecting social change. Jon Stewart's stellar work as the host of "The Daily Show," for example, couldn't save us from the horrors of the Bush administration. Instead, the program became a touchstone for left-leaning Americans seeking reassurance and sanity.

Americans, especially young ones, began turning to comedy shows as their prime source of information on current events, as parodies became more trustworthy and informative than “real” news. Did Stewart have any kind of appreciable effect on the politics of that era, or was he preaching to the choir? Worse, is it possible, as some have argued, that his brand of comedy actually hindered real political engagement in the U.S.?

We could watch Jon Stewart before bedtime and feel a twinge of relief that someone saw the same maddening absurdities we did. What most people did not do, after watching an episode of "The Daily Show," was take to the streets.

In his book Dead Funny: Humor in Hitler’s Germany, Rudolph Herzog pointedly declares that political jokes were not a form of resistance for the German people, but a release valve for a terrorized populace—a mechanism the Nazis themselves allowed. "(The humor) didn’t translate into anti-Nazi protests. Those people who let off a bit of steam with a few jokes didn’t take to the streets or otherwise challenge the Nazi leadership… 'Whispered jokes' were a surrogate for, not a manifestation of, social conscience and political courage.”

In The Last Laugh, comedy writer/director Larry Charles compares this phenomenon to Slavoj Zizek’s maxim that “Resistance is surrender.” Zizek’s argument is that a certain amount of dissent—comedic and otherwise—is built into the system, tolerated by the powers-that-be in order to prevent real resistance from coalescing. That mechanism also allows the authorities to deflect charges of censorship or suppression of free speech and other civil rights.

Clearly, it is not usually the satirist’s intent to stymie political action. Quite the contrary. The failure of a formidable progressive movement to arise and oppose the Tea Party, for example, was likely a function of complacency during the Obama era, and hardly the fault of the comedic truth-tellers. Would it have been better if political comedians had not been on the air?

Today, Bill Maher, John Oliver, Samantha Bee, and other political late-night hosts seem to be inspiring, rather than defusing, mass opposition to the new GOP regime. The issue then may be less the comedians than the times in which they work.

Comedians can raise political consciousness, but they cannot replace it. Perhaps Jon Stewart’s most effective political moment arrived in a 2004 appearance on CNN’s “Crossfire,” when he took hosts Tucker Carlson and Paul Begala to task for lowering the standards of political discourse in this country. It wasn't remotely funny, but the moment remains fixed in the minds of many Americans even now. Perhaps it achieved its impact precisely because Jon Stewart was an entertainer.

Comedian and director David Steinberg, who is featured in The Last Laugh, echoed these concerns in an interview with AlterNet. He reflected specifically on a Vietnam-era debate about whether he and his fellow anti-war comedians were having any effect. The consensus was bleak. “Look at what satire did to stop the Nazis,” Steinberg recalled thinking. “Absolutely nothing.”

But satire can have an impact, and Steinberg is a prime example. In the late 1960s, at the height of the protest movement, Steinberg was a regular guest on “The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour,” a top-rated show on CBS that regularly spoofed the Johnson and Nixon administrations. Few television shows were doing anything like it, let alone on primetime.

The network repeatedly warned the Smothers to back off. Tommy Smothers refused and CBS canceled the show, despite its ratings—a measure of how nervous the network had grown, and likely, how much pressure it was under from the White House.

The event that triggered the final ax was a standup bit by Steinberg, a faux sermon in which he mocked the Bible. Lyndon Johnson was savvy enough to know not to take the bait. He actually wrote to the Smothers Brothers, saying, “It is part of the price of leadership of this great and free nation to be the target of clever satirists. You have given the gift of laughter to our people. May we never grow so somber or self-important that we fail to appreciate the humor in our lives.” Even if he was being merely tactical, he recognized that becoming outraged would only make him look bad. Richard Nixon was not so forward-thinking, nor as easily amused.

The crackdown of a major TV network on a comedy show suggests that satire can have an effect. Did it end the Vietnam War by itself? Of course not. But it was emblematic of the gathering groundswell of a public opposition to the federal government.

In the present political climate, it’s important to remember that satire, comedy and ridicule have an effect. It’s hard to dispute the idea that Tina Fey’s portrayal of Sarah Palin helped in some small way to keep the Republican ticket out of the White House by putting her in the (unflattering) spotlight week after week, often using her own words verbatim.

The current occupant of the White House is an even riper target, precisely because he is so attuned to what comedians are saying about him. That presents a rare opportunity for humor to have an outsized effect. But for comedians in trying times such as these, the secret may be to keep their elbows sharp and aim them where they count.

Virtually any art form can be a source of resistance to oppression, and comedy is no different. But if humor has been called “the Jewish novocaine,” we have to be on guard against comedy that serves only as a distraction to numb us to dire political threats, rather than a tonic to attack them at the root.

As Herzog notes, the German people often told jokes about Goering being fat. Such jokes were almost gentle, and—in modern parlance—normalizing. They were the sort of jokes that would be made about any public figure; they had no teeth. That kind of comedy may have provided a brief thrill in mocking the Nazi leadership, but it didn’t really have any broader effect; in fact, it may have done harm by channeling energy that might otherwise have fed real political opposition. (The Nazis’ very tolerance of routine jokes suggests how little risk they posed to the regime.)

What most Germans did not do was use humor to attack the very legitimacy of the Nazi regime. Maybe that is asking too much, as the consequences of that kind of satire could be very dire indeed. The question then is, who gets the last laugh?