It was a damp crepuscular morning. A bedraggled dawn most suited to the closing act of a long-drawn-out melodrama. The funeral procession passed by my vantage point at a glacial pace - accompanied only by the occasional stifled cry of a shadowy figure in the crowd and the sound of muffled drums. This was a sight I could never have imagined was possible. I was witness to the last gasp farewell of the world’s most universally revered religious curse – with all its conflicted virtues and excesses.
A deep black cataphalque, draped with images signifying the four sacraments - free markets, self-regulation, monetary policy and the Dow Jones Index - forged from pure Californium 252, the most precious metal on Earth, had cradled the gold-encrusted casket as it lay in state on Capitol Hill. NSA executives and members of the US Reserve Bank Board had taken it in turns to provide the guard of honour. Dignitaries from all over the world had flown in to pay their final respects.
Now, on the concluding stage of its final journey, the casket mounted on a carriage specially constructed for the occasion, was pulled by a coterie of 100 silver-collared bankers, billionaires, celebrity traders, venture capitalists and speculators from the world’s most affluent nations, who had won that honour by entering a competition conducted by the state Lottery.
After them, walking arm in arm, marched politicians and leaders from the world’s wealthiest nations. The only notable absentees were from North Korea, Iraq, Syria, Iran, Cuba, and several African nations who decided to boycott the ceremony. Oh, and Greece. But they were hardly missed. This ceremony was for the rich and wealthy. The poor were not welcome. If not before, they were now the enemy.
It seemed only fitting that the casket was to be laid to rest under the marbled floor of the Goldman Sachs lobby in Wall Street. After all this is where the ultimate end-game, a ceremony of lost innocence driven by fear, greed and corruption, had been conceived.
Although a few ideologically colour-blind economists like Paul Krugman had been warning us of its imminent demise for well over a decade, the final agonising death throes of capitalism had been a shock – mourned by millions from Wall Street and the Industrial Military Complex to Singapore’s Temasek Corporation, the City of London, members of the Chinese Politburo and far, far beyond.
In the minds of many in the global financial system this was truly the end of history. There was simply nothing that could take the place of capitalism. Now there was just an empty space - a vacuum in which economic growth would stall, wars would stop, the poor would start issuing a backlog of claims demanding equity, and the quality of life would go downhill fast.
The end was always going to be a bitter affair. In an incendiary eulogy broadcast to a live television audience of almost three 3.5 billion citizens, US industrialist Charles Koch berated social activists and commons-based movements. Led by irresponsible people like Naomi Klein, Barack Obama and Russell Brand, Koch went on to identify a core group of ignorant losers and communists he deemed culpable for destroying the capitalist system and trying to promote the sad illusion of equality.
The world is about to witness the true meaning of austerity, he raged. If compassion and other humanitarian ideals continue to embed the poor will try to emulate the rich but will suffer for their impertinence. Those activists who call for greater transparency or for a more equitable distribution of wealth should be shot. They will preside over a massive catastrophe. And people like us who have created jobs and given you the quality of life you enjoy today will never forgive you for wrecking our economic paradise, he insisted.
Of course there were those who, like myself, saw things a little differently. For one thing the predatory nature of the capitalist system would no longer be able to funnel wealth from enslaved workers to the well-to-do. Easy credit leading to indebtedness would be a thing of the past. But I kept quiet. It was best not to be too outspoken on the very day the burden of capitalism had been lifted from our shoulders. Besides, it might be that liberal democracy will be the next in line for such an exit.
In truth the more obvious symptoms of consumption, control, accumulation and misuse had been recognised for some time. They were clearly indicative of a serious mental illness. But most people could not see that or had simply tried ignoring such a painful fact. When the end came it was undramatic – just a gradual slipping away into a demented state from which recovery became impossible. The coroner noted that although the corpse twitched for awhile, all signs of intelligent life had disappeared by the time he finally pronounced capitalism dead…
I jest of course! Capitalism is far from being dead. Nor is liberal democracy next in line for the morgue. Yet! But then you knew that. And although it can certainly be regarded as a form of mental illness in those who become infatuated with the egocentric creation and hoarding of wealth, capitalism is not even in the Emergency Room, even if some of us think it should be.
Capitalism is not all bad of course. It has brought advantages to some – most notably those who are already wealthy. And even now it is trying to morph into a variety of less harsh, more caring forms - such as ethical capitalism, conscious capitalism, natural capitalism and the sharing economy, for example, all of which might be an illusion. But capitalism as it is currently practiced has been a curse to many others. It is this underbelly of greed and of corruption that most concerns me from the viewpoint of legitimacy. My litany of anxieties goes something like this…
In a world of collapsing systems the only path to redemption is via a paradigmatic shift in our most fundamental beliefs about what really matters. In other words we must redesign our shared system of convictions (worldview), that manifest as the civilisational world-system, if the results are not what we desire, or do not live up to our expectations.
That is easier said than done for we are all deeply entangled in and provided for by that same world-system. It is the air we breathe and the soundscape enveloping us. It is the leaders we most admire, the entertainment we seek, the friends we keep, and the language we use to express our most intimate thoughts. It is innate and we take it for granted. So how can those of us who have the means and influence to do so, possibly oppose this system when we are all so obviously beholden to it?
This morning I listened to a speech by the US author Anand Giridharadas, which he delivered a few days ago to the Aspen Institute Action Forum. In this unusually frank and forthright speech, for which he asked forgiveness from his audience by the way, he raised the following dilemma:
We subscribe to a consensus that some things can be discussed but that other, equally important matters, can not. This tacit agreement determines what we will not question, even as we need to question so much.
He has a valid point. The real issue though is that this consensus is not just confined to a small group of young people from the Aspen Global Leadership Forum, nor even from the keen business minds of Richard Branson, Bill Gates and Oprah Winfrey. It is the prevailing ethos of our time. Think about that. Our tacit compliance is the basis of a worldview that has brought wealth and prosperity to many and who now find its relevance too distressing to challenge for fear of losing what they have. But it is also the consensus of a world-system that is no longer sustainable or even beneficial to the majority of the human family.
In a world where generosity often becomes a surrogate for justice why are we so willing to turn rationality upside down by encouraging creatively gifted business men and women, inheritors of family fortunes, and obscenely wealthy entrepreneurs, to continue making money through all the usual business channels, just as long as they give a little bit of their wealth back? A token playground for urban kids perhaps? No problem. Some free tickets to a concert for a little girl dying of cancer? Why not - its all good publicity. Such is the stuff of CSR, or corporate social responsibility, a contemporary euphemism for spending the least amount of money to make sure our customers view us as decent people so they are inclined to buy more of our product.
What good does this really do? How does this change the plight of anyone? The wealthy individual and the good corporate citizen both feel virtuous about softening the harshness of a system that cares little for the underprivileged. But ultimately their aim is to preserve that system at all costs.
As Anand Giridharadas reflects: Sometimes, I find myself wondering what we’re actually doing here in Aspen. Are we here to change the system, or be changed by it? Are we using our collective strength to challenge the powerful, or are we helping to make an unjust, unpalatable system, feel a little more digestible? How is it rational or ethical to keep contributing to the disease we are purporting to treat?
The fundamental question remains. What should we do when trapped between the good intentions and generosity of wealthy people who want to give back to the community, and the defensive mechanism that must always be the instinctive reflex of those who have so much to lose by changing a system in such a way that their generous gifts became superfluous?
The full text of Anand Giridharadas’s address, The Thriving World, The Wilting World, And You, can be seen at https://medium.com/@AnandWrites/the-thriving-world-the-wilting-world-and-you-209ffc24ab90
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