Robert Kuttner – Hidden Injuries of Class, Race, and Culture

Link to an omnibus book review by Robert Kuttner:

“Hidden Injuries of Class, Race, and Culture”

Bonus links: “What Drives Trump Supporters?: Sociologist Arlie Russell Hochschild on Anger & Mourning of the Right” and “I Spent 5 Years With Some of Trump’s Biggest Fans. Here’s What They Won’t Tell You.” and “Rural Voting from Group Identity Resentment of Other Groups Not Ideology” and “Janesville: Microcosm of the Heartland Rustbelt” (but see “On the Differences of Comedy in the Time of Alt Right Transgression” — essentially rejecting the core premise of Hochschild’s affective sociology as an infantalization)

Slavoj Žižek – The Fragile Absolute

 Cover of: The fragile absolute or, Why is the Christian legacy worth fighting for? The fragile absolute or, Why is the Christian legacy worth fighting for?

Slavoj ŽižekThe Fragile Absolute: Or, Why Is the Christian Legacy Worth Fighting For? (Verso 2000)


Typically Žižek writes long and short books, with the shorter ones restating concepts he had introduced in longer works.  But The Fragile Absolute is a bit different in terms of being shorter but also developing (relatively) new concepts.  His views on christian atheism are significant enough that this book was reprinted years later as part of the publisher’s “Essential Žižek” series.  Yet for as important as the the core christian ideas are to the book, given its title, most of the first half or so scarcely mentions religion at all.  And for that matter, Žižek doesn’t ever mention Thomas J.J. Altizer‘s “death of god” theory, or Ernst Bloch‘s Atheism in Christianity (1968), which seem to set forth a similar frame of discussion.  Instead he starts with Alain Badiou‘s Saint Paul: The Foundations of Universalism (1998).  In short, Žižek’s thesis is that christianity offers a radical position that used “love” as a way toward universality.  Using his typical Lacanian psychoanalytic techniques, and a heavy reliance on Hegelian philosophy, he explores how a sense of duty in the christian concept of love — specifically Pauline agape (love as charity) — can rupture the duality of law and transgression and the pagan notion of life cycles built around a global social hierarchy (of each person and thing in its “proper” place).  In other words, he sees christianity as offering a significant step forward toward an egalitarian society by asserting that each individual has immediate access to (and the right to participate in) universality, without seeing it as “evil” when a person (or strata) no longer is satisfied with a position within an ordered social hierarchy (which inherently has masters who must be obeyed).  Žižek’s key arguments are as profound as ever, yet those could have been distilled to more potent essay or article rather than a book that comes across as rambling in the first half.

Paul Kesler – Bourdieu vs. Delong

Link to a review of James Delong’s review of Pierre Bourdieu‘s Acts of Resistance: Against the Tyranny of the Market (1998) by Paul Kesler:

“Bourdieu vs. Delong”

A useful case study description of how neoliberals tends to de-politicize (normalize) their political position.

Bonus link: “Kesler vs. Delong vs. Bourdieu”

Munro Leaf & Robert Lawson – The Story of Ferdinand

The STory of Ferdinand

Munro Leaf and Robert LawsonThe Story of Ferdinand (The Viking Press, 1936)


One of the great children’s books.  Robert Lawson’s black and white illustrations are exceptional in their detail and clarity, yet those qualities are focused on distinct characters and objects with much white space creating a sense of freedom.  The story by Munro Leaf is a kind of happier version of Herman Melville‘s short story Bartleby, the Scrivener.  Ferdinand is a bull in Spain who does not want to be a part of bullfights.  He wants to sit quietly under his favorite cork tree and smell the flowers.  When stung by a bee and jumping about in pain, he confuses a group of men, who have come to select a bull for fights in Madrid, making them think that he is ferocious.  But when brought to a bullfighting ring (to his death), he merely sits down in the middle of the ring to smell the flowers in the hair of the ladies in the audience, and refuses to participate.  So Ferdinand is taken back to the country where he can smell the flowers.  And he was happy.  In this story, which describes the power of an individual to resist the violence of institutions, it is one of the most radical bestselling books in America (following the likes of Looking Backward).

Michael Hudson – Killing the Host | Review

Killing the Host: How Financial Parasites and Debt Destroy the Global Economy

Michael HudsonKilling the Host: How Financial Parasites and Debt Destroy the Global Economy (ISLET/CounterPunch 2015)


First off, it must be said that Michael Hudson offers one of the most astute conclusions about the cause of recent financial troubles in the United States (post-2007).  The crux of his book Killing the Host is to explore the coded language used to push a particular political agenda under the guise of “objective” economic theories.  The most compelling sections of the book are the play-by-play histories of actions by politicians and financial technocrats.  He details how a pervasive attitude of “there is no alternative” (TINA) covers up pro-banking, pro-finance, anti-labor, anti-democratic policies (this explanation mirrors Jacques Lacan‘s notion of “university discourse”).  He points to others who have reached the same conclusion, and some data (albeit a minimal amount of data) that policies alleged by their backers to produce one result actually achieve another.  Hudson is at his sharpest when he calls out the peddlers of these theories as frauds, and occasionally as simply “useful idiots”.

The scariest aspects of the entire narrative is how much power is concentrated in the hands of so few.  It is sort of common for progressives to criticize the prospects for voting to impact progressive causes.  Howard Zinn, Robert S. Borden, Jean-Paul Sartre and others have made various claims to that effect.  Yet Hudson’s book gives lie to that.  For example, in the most gripping sections of the book, he reveals the enormous power that President Obama and his Treasury guy Tim Geithner (plus a handful of other close operatives) wielded after the 2007-08 U.S. financial crash.  The entire economy and that of generations to come was wrecked by these few actors.  Wait, read that last sentence again.

Unfortunately, this ends up being the least of Hudson’s recent books.  Many of the chapters are brief summaries of things Hudson has written about elsewhere.  The first part of the book discussing the history of classical economics is mostly subject matter covered in his Trade, Development and Foreign Debt.  He also repeats his discussions of the role of debt (and “debt deflation”) that are explained more fully in The Bubble and Beyond.  Later in the book he really extends himself to the limits of economics as such, but does not venture far enough to support his normative claims, which always seem intentionally withheld.  Much of Hudson’s argument is that the financial industry has concealed or obfuscated accurate information about its actions and has captured regulatory apparatuses to prevent oversight and accountability.  But doesn’t that call for an analysis based in political science, or perhaps sociology?  When he talks about regulatory capture, the thing is he doesn’t really provide much evidence.  He could cite the work of, say, Thomas Ferguson, to explain the “right turn” in politics in the neoliberal era, or any number of other non-economic scholars.  The problem for the book is that Hudson will write a chapter detailing economic issues, or perhaps histories of political dealings.  Then the chapter concludes with explanations that were not explored in that chapter.  That approach is repeated throughout the book.  For example, chapter 9 makes the comment, “Television news shows and the printed press tend to treat debt and prospects of defaults as a downer story that loses audience interest compared to the success stories of financial celebrities.”  This seems plausible, but why?  It highlights the crux of the problem with this book, in that it pushes the questions of financial exploitation to essentially political decisions made outside the realm of economics as such.  Hudson tends to drop one-liners to explain why journalists offer no bulwark against this, without really bothering to support those theories.  Why exactly do journalists side with the financial industry rather than provide useful information for readers?  People like Robert McChesney, Edward S. Herman, Noam Chomsky and John Pilger have offered theories (Pilger appropriately calls some of them “Vichy journalists”).  But readers of Killing Host are left guessing as to which theory or evidence Hudson bases his conclusions on — the evidence he gathers in each chapter tends to stop well short of substantiating his broader and more interesting conclusions.  So time and again the deepest questions are simply outside his scope of expertise — or rely on a kind of “preaching to the choir” attitude that presupposes that readers agree with him on the (unstated) ideological level.

In chapter 25 Hudson rails against U.S. district Judge Thomas Griesa regarding Argentina’s sovereign debt crisis.  The issue is whether a minority group of bondholders of sovereign debt can be bound by an agreement of a supermajority.  This is one of the low points of the book.  Hudson doesn’t cite primary authority, mostly secondary sources from the financial press.  This hints that he perhaps is misinterpreting the legal rulings (or relying on journalists who misinterpret the rulings).  But in any event, he strongly implies a kind of sinister judicial intervention into geopolitics that is preposterous — and backed by no evidence, other than a cursory discussion of how Judge Griesa reached a conclusion he and some others disagree with.  Not to defend Griesa’s ruling necessarily, but Hudson offers little more than ad hominem attacks and normative policy gripes, while feigning to be just delivering the facts.

Another example is in chapter 2, where he writes, “Thomas Aquinas (1225-74) wrote that bankers and tradesmen should earn enough to support their families in a manner appropriate for their station, including enough to give to charity and pay taxes.”  (Hudson provides no cite to attribute that position to anything particular in Aquinas’ writings).  Isn’t the entire question, though, what is bankers’ proper “station”?  The political question at hand is that the finance sector clearly thinks its station is orders of magnitude above that of other occupations and economic sectors.  Hudson thinks otherwise.  But why?  The answer, of course, comes from Hudson’s ideology.  As much as he rails against bankers and their political allies as ideologues, Hudson is one too!  Of course, his position is one that is based much more on equality and fair dealing.  But he mostly takes those points as self-evident.

The piece that is largely missing from Killing the Host is the sort of stuff that sociologist Luc Boltanski has written about extensively and explicitly.  And one can raise the same concerns that people have raised about Boltanski’s analysis: “Is it really possible to move beyond the particular cities and worlds to see them from without from a kind of objectivist no-where perspective as the authors try to do?”  Replace “cities and worlds” with “economic doctrines” and read “authors” in the singular, and this is precisely the theoretical difficulty presented by Killing the Host.  Hudson repeatedly lambasts bankers/financiers as if they are amoral frauds, but bankers and financiers don’t see themselves that way at all.  The key is the way Hudson implicitly defines what constitutes public good.  The problem is that we only get that moral judgment implicitly, not explicitly in his book.

Hudson has an awareness of socialist theory, but writes as if it can be applied in an analysis without an endorsement of socialist ends.  One online reviewer said, “There is a leaning towards socialist values that I do not condone . . . .”  It is of course irrelevant what that reviewer does or does not condone, but Prof. Hudson ultimately is preaching to the choir when he makes no real argument as to why socialist perspectives offer more than right-wing neo-feudal ones.

Consider this argument from 1919:

“Bourgeois democracy is democracy of pompous phrases, solemn words, exuberant promises and the high-sounding slogans of freedom and equality. But, in fact, it screens the non-freedom and inferiority of women, the non-freedom and inferiority of the toilers and exploited.”

That was a quote from Lenin.  It is a form of the same argument Hudson makes.  So is Hudson a Leninist?  The introduction suggests that maybe he is.  On the other hand, further into the book he alternates between talking favorably about economic policies that make nations “competitive” and criticizing disproportionate power and inequalities.  This comes closer to socialist nationalism, and maybe the moderate socialism or civic nationalism of John Stuart Mill (or maybe even Alec Nove).  Which is it then?  He presents many of these concepts in a way that is never resolved in the book.  Lenin, of course, said that there must be a global socialist revolution to achieve radical egalitarianism across borders.  That is a resolution.  But fostering national competitiveness like in the protectionist school of economics simply privileges some inequalities (so long as they are cross-border) over others, and ignores the threats posed by conflict between nation states.  We might even start to call him the “Renegade” Hudson here, due to the ways such incongruous positions resemble those of Karl Kautsky (who turned Marx into a common liberal in Lenin’s eyes).

Furthermore, Hudson’s overarching metaphor about financial “parasites” who are “killing the host” ends up being completely incongruous with his most incisive economic critiques.  Consider this dichotomy:

“for a populist, the cause of the troubles is ultimately never the system as such but the intruder who corrupted it (financial manipulators, not necessarily capitalists, and so on); not a fatal flaw inscribed into the structure as such but an element that doesn’t play its role within the structure properly. For a Marxist, on the contrary (as for a Freudian), the pathological (deviating misbehavior of some elements) is the symptom of the normal, an indicator of what is wrong in the very structure that is threatened with ‘pathological’ outbursts. For Marx, economic crises are the key to understanding the ‘normal’ functioning of capitalism; for Freud, the pathological phenomena such as hysterical outbursts provide the key to the constitution (and hidden antagonisms that sustain the functioning) of a ‘normal’ subject.” In Defense of Lost Causes (2008) (p. 279).

 

“let us not blame people and their attitudes: the problem is not corruption or greed, the problem is the system that pushes you to be corrupt. The solution is neither Main Street nor Wall Street, but to change the system where Main Street cannot function without Wall Street.”  “Occupy Wall Street: What Is to be Done Next?”

Doesn’t Hudson offer what looks like a socialist/Marxist/Leninist critique of the overall economic system as such (capitalism), but then abandon that critique in the end to rail against the corrupting financial intruders — at most a corrupt/parasitic sub-system or isolated glitch within an otherwise sound overall system?  Hudson seems like yet another writer unwilling to follow his analysis through, instead softening and undermining it to avoid appearing like an advocate of socialist/communist policies.  This looks like left populism, in that “left populism’s appeal rests mainly on a moral conception of the economy — pitting producers against parasites — rather than on a radical repudiation of capitalism itself.”

In chapter 13 he provides a valuable history of the TARP bailout program following the 2007-08 financial crash.  However, when discussing the government refusal to turn Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac into public companies, he says, “This was euphemized as saving the economy from ‘socialism.'”  The ironic quotes are Hudson’s, and they are the crux of the problem.  Wouldn’t public ownership precisely be socialism?  In other words, this is no euphemism.  Hudson is advocating socialist solutions to some degree, but he doesn’t want to come out and admit it.  In complete contrast, take Slavoj Žižek‘s Trouble in Paradise: From the End of History to the End of Capitalism.  Žižek concludes the book by saying that meaningful change will require that communism be the goal.  How is that for a direct and bold statement! 

So long as Hudson dodges the questions of political ideology, his arguments will seem just as ideologically limited as those of the finance sector he criticizes.  Though, in fairness, he is arguing for policies that would favor a larger segment of the world’s population than the policies of neoliberalism.  He tries to defend Enlightenment-era rationalism against a counter-enlightenment view that has come to dominate.  Hudson takes an explicitly broader view than most economists, but not that much broader.  He likes to refer to the viability of a “mixed economy”.  However, the precise balance of the so-called “mixed” economy he endorses is not spelled out in any meaningful way — it is simply somewhere in the vast middle ground between the most extreme ends of a spectrum.  Such vagueness is troubling.

So, while it is worth repeating that Hudson is one of the economists most worth reading today, Killing the Host is a hastily argued work with sections of profound impact and others that are scarcely more than drivel in the mold of the “academic aristocrat” tradition.  A primary limitation is the book’s oscillation between theory and observation, without those two being closely matched — there is theory offered without supporting factual observations and observations that seem offered in support of theories not outlined in the book.  If the book was reduced to the just the historical/journalistic sections on the chicanery of Tim Geithner and the TARP bailouts, this book would have been better.  As it stands, this is kind of minor footnote at best among Hudson’s books.  Read his magnificent Super Imperialism (a modern classic), or even Trade, Development and Foreign Debt (quite a bit drier) or The Bubble and Beyond (good if sloppy) instead.

Carl Wilson – Let’s Talk About Love

Let's Talk About Love A Journey to the End of Taste (33 1/3)

Carl WilsonLet’s Talk About Love: A Journey to the End of Taste (33 1/3 #52) (Continuum 2007)


Carl Wilson tackles Céline Dion‘s album Let’s Talk About Love.  His approach is intriguing, based mostly upon the theories of sociologist Pierre Bourdieu (particularly as set forth in his Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste).  In essence, Wilson asks whether his distaste for her music is really a way to distinguish himself from her fan base.  While the basic premise of the book is worth reading about, Wilson stumbles a bit when going about applying the theory to the work of Céline Dion.  For one, Bourdieu was insistent that the point of his analytic framework was to expose systems of domination in order to permit them to be challenged.  Wilson, though, eschews that sort of purpose.  He notes that aspect of Bourdieu’s theory but glosses over it in his own analysis.  He instead ponders endlessly how her fame doesn’t make sense.  But it does!  The essence is that she supports modes of domination, providing a convenient coping mechanism for the victims of domination without challenging the oppression by the powerful.  She is therefore supported and promoted by those who benefit from that domination (key to her having a huge Las Vegas show).  Wilson skirts this issue.  Take this passage concerning her penchant for sentimentality:

“Her songs are often about the struggle of sustaining an emotional reality, about fidelity, faith, bonding and survival — continuity, that is, in the destabilizing flux of late capitalism.  While business and rebel-schmaltz stars alike tout self-realization, social negation and the delegitimation of traditional values, Céline’s music (like Nashville country) tends to prioritize ‘recognition and community,’ connection and solidarity.  Granted, she also promotes overwork, ambition and luxury, which is to say she’s still a pop star.  But in that matrix, sentimentality might be her greatest virtue.”  (p. 127).

Wilson is right that the palliative aspect of her sentimentality can be seen as a redeeming quality, but in positively noting that perspective he deflects attention from who benefits from it.  He recounts an amusing anecdote about how Jamaican gangsters often played her music loudly.  Isn’t the core of gangsterism the direct, physical expression of domination, just as Céline’s music is a facilitator of it through the more subtle economic and political mechanisms of late capitalism?  Gangsters liking it makes perfect sense when ideological alignment is considered.

There are many perspectives on Céline’s music that Wilson never quite considers.  He comes close for some.  He talks about how Céline appeals mostly to people who make use of her music, for weddings, events, and as the soundscape of life, not people (like professional critic Wilson) who scrutinize and analyze it.  Joe Boyd in his memoir White Bicycles, wrote about how in the 1960s folk music scene there was a divide between those like archivist Alan Lomax who pursued “gregarious” music meant for social events — sing-alongs and such — and record collectors more interested in virtuoso performers.  This is a very similar divide between Céline’s fans and Wilson and his cohorts.  But he does not really go there in the book.  Also, could it be that Céline’s music appeals to extroverts, while most music nerds are introverts? This is not to say that these other lenses are the correct ones, but rather that the way Wilson struggles to find an explanation for Céline’s appeal means that he never quite has the crucial insight that explains the divide between her fans and her many detractors.  Put more simply, this is why Wilson’s approach is unscientific and superficial.  He acknowledges that he lacks the funds to perform a large survey like Bourdieu (for that, look to the likes of Gerry Veenstra).  He would be better off looking to the style of Thorstein Veblen, but he disses Veblen and misquotes him (flattering himself by trying to coin the phrase “conspicuous production” in a way that is already subsumed by Veblen’s original theory of “conspicuous consumption”).

There are many passages of great insight in the book.  They unfortunately don’t hang together into a whole, and are offset by unfortunately blunders.  For instance, Wilson contrasts Céline with the Carpenters.  And yet, the Carpenters are actually credited by many with creating the genre of pop power ballads (“Goodbye to Love”) that are the core of Céline’s repertoire.

The extensive personal anecdotes that Wilson injects throughout the book are a distraction.  While those sorts of things can orient a reader to the ideology and perspective of the writer, Wilson is not as candid as he claims to be (for one, he points out that he writes for leftist publications, but his endless claims about misunderstanding Céline’s music is purely centrist liberalism).  The book would have been better without those digressions.  It could have stood to go much further into the application of Bourdieu’s theories as well.  What’s more, his eventual “review” of Let’s Talk About Love is limp and uninteresting.

In spite of its limitations, one hopes that Let’s Talk About Love: A Journey to the End of Taste still encourages other writers to take up a similar approach to criticism.  There are few more intriguing ways to look at the nature of criticism.  (Actually, David Lee‘s The Battle of the Five Spot: Ornette Coleman and the New York Jazz Field is a much more substantial book applying Bourdieu to jazz music and practice, or look to various French writers who have done this in the past).