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The Other Civil War: Capitalism’s Uncivil Peace

Gaunt figures wander like the dead through streets and alleyways, worn clothing hanging from emaciated bodies, their rough faces frozen in an image of utter desolation. Foodstuffs are sold at exorbitantly high rates by monopoly agro-business; those who can’t afford to buy food starve almost immediately, while those who can scrape together the funds succumb to slow death from the poisons within. Old folks, little children, widows, and former national heroes—all these are thrown from their homes while those houses are left to rot, shiny new locks gleaming on the door. The entire time, plutocrats sleep in virtual fortresses, hidden in gated communities while people starve in the streets.

This is the nature of the other Civil War. This is capitalism’s uncivil peace.

The first American Civil War has never seemed to reach an end; issues of states’ rights versus the federal centralization of power play themselves out on the nightly news, while the real question of lasting peace goes unanswered. But this issue is bigger than the United States and deeper than any partisan divide. The other Civil War is one of crypto-fascism, of neo-colonization, a war on the environment, on the right of people to privacy, and on democracy itself. It is a war of attrition. When Chris Hedges wrote in January of 2011 that “corporations have no use for borders,” he was only partially correct.

“Corporate power is global, and resistance to it cannot be restricted by national boundaries. Corporations have no regard for nation-states. They assert their power to exploit the land and the people everywhere. They play worker off of worker and nation off of nation.”

Corporate power is indeed global, but national boundaries play easily into capitalist power games. Countries are viewed as holding pools for cheap labor to exploit; when the race to the bottom within a country ends with the inevitable crash, xenophobia and racism make nationalism and patriotism the customary tools for dividing people across state lines. It becomes “un-American” to question, say, a transnational oil pipeline moving costly and toxic sludge from the largest intact forests on Earth across pristine aquifers, public and private property, indigenous communities, and the rights of all within. Resistance against digging up the Black Hills and the areas around the Grand Canyon in search of radioactive uranium is met with equal derision. After all, won’t the job creation and financial payoff be worth the destruction of a few natural wonders? It is all done, happily, in the name of progress.

The way that capitalism measures progress is a sham.

Because corporate capitalism seeks to maximize profit at the expense of sabotaging work safety conditions and standards, labor hiring and compensation standards, environmental conservation principles, and the self-determination of individual communities, our resistance must indeed be worldwide. Any other efforts will stop short of defeating neoliberal “progress.”

Gross Domestic Product, or GDP, measures the market value of all goods produced in a particular country and is used as an indicator of standard of living within that country. It is the measure by which capitalists determine which countries are on top. But while economic “goods” are evaluated, socio-political and environmental “bads” are not. GDP is an abstraction, devoid of any real connection to the world. A few examples:

  • GDP treats crime as economic gain. As crime rates increase, so does the prison-industrial complex push for more police, jails, surveillance systems, and the like. The dominant culture uses mass media to perpetuate stereotypes of people of color, poor people, immigrants, and dissident political groups to justify cycles of systemic and institutional violence. Fear of “the other” is exploited as a mechanism to control the working class. Shadow government groups like the American Legislative Exchange Council create laws to be rubberstamped by politicians of the major political parties; the fascist’s wars, domestic and abroad, are fought with weapons made by her prisoners. Like all other capitalist industries, the prison-industrial complex requires continual growth and acquisition of raw materials—in this case, people.
  • GDP treats environmental disaster as economic gain. Cleanup of contaminated Superfund sites (1,280 sites listed on the National Priority List as of November 2010) and massive oil spills like Exxon Valdez and the Deepwater Horizon oil gusher (4.9 million barrels of crude over 68,000 sq mi) mean big business for those interested in GDP rankings. Not only does environmental remediation pump money into the economy, inflating growth rates, but GDP factors in the economic activity that generated the waste in the first place. Pollution is a boon for capitalist ideology.
  • GDP treats nonmarket economies as worthless. The amount of time spent volunteering in a homeless shelter, providing free assistance to veterans, running Food Not Bombs, an Infoshop or other community center—none of this matters. At least not in the capitalist system. Capitalism doesn’t care for community enrichment; it only seeks profit and growth.

While policy wonks should strive to determine new metrics that can measure the wealth as the intersection of natural, built, financial, human, and social resources, we must strive to determine our own measure of progress in the physical world. The ratchet effect is locking in the disastrous results of cancer-stage casino capitalism; overpopulation, overconsumption and environmentally risky technologies are pushing us over a precipice.

Political processes are reactive in nature; our movements must be proactive, revolutionary.

Environmental and social costs must be factored into any analysis of technology and its application. The revelation in 2012 that the Sierra Club had accepted more than $26 million dollars from Chesapeake Energy—the most active driller of natural gas wells—was a shock to some environmental groups. It shouldn’t have been.

Bright green environmentalism has long worshipped technological change as the primary vehicle for ecological interests, often jumping onto the bandwagon of untested or greenwashed technologies. The newest director of the Sierra Club has rejected notions of natural gas “as a ‘kinder, gentler’ energy source” and apologized for the group’s former support of the industry over coal. While dumping natural gas and hydraulic fracking—the dangers of which are illuminated in Josh Fox’s award-winning documentary Gasland—is to be commended, a valuable lesson remains: myopic views of industrial solutions can lead to entirely new problems. Environmental ethics must include a holistic worldview beyond anthropocentric environmentalism, the idea that the natural world is merely a resource to be exploited by humans. Our progress requires transcending mere ecology to accomplish what Norwegian philosopher Arne Næss called an ecosophy: an “evolving but consistent philosophy of being, thinking and acting in the world that embodies ecological wisdom and harmony.”

Subsidies and legislative mismanagement of sectors that create environmental and social costs, such as energy, transportation and agriculture, must be eliminated in favor of sustainability and biodiversity. Eighteen past winners of the Blue Planet prize—the unofficial Nobel for the environment—have released a statement on environmental and development challenges, calling it an imperative to act. Society has “no choice but to take dramatic action to avert a collapse of civilization. Either we will change our ways and build an entirely new kind of global society, or they will be changed for us.”

In this new society, decision-making processes must also empower marginalized groups. Being marginalized doesn’t necessitate being a member of a minority group—being wealthy is indeed a minority position; marginalization means instead that society has refused to acknowledge a particular community’s needs, beliefs, and concerns. Think apartheid South Africa.

The Occupation of New York City released their Declaration on 29 September 2011, calling for an end to “inequality and discrimination in the workplace based on age, the color of one’s skin, sex, gender identity and sexual orientation.” This is a good start. Our progress, however, must go beyond the workplace; we also have the obligation to include the voices of the poor, the uneducated, the mentally and physically disabled, single mothers, criminals, and other groups silenced by the mainstream. We must not stop there; too often, analysis of marginalization focuses on the marginals themselves and not the processes responsible.  We must seek new understanding of the connections between life circumstances of members in various marginal groups and the larger socio-political and economic processes at the root of the American political establishment.

Émile Durkheim, the father of sociology, claimed that social deviance was “a normal and necessary part of social organization”; the role of the marginalized group under traditional sociology, therefore, is to “define moral boundaries for the larger group.” Durkheim saw two reactions to deviance by marginalized groups and others: either the larger society would unite in opposition to people who violate a culture’s values (think of Dick Cheney’s call for a new Pearl Harbor moment) or that deviance would push society’s moral boundaries which, in turn, would lead to social change. Social change is exactly what we’re after.

As capitalism continues its race to the bottom, bankers and their servants in government cry out for harsh measures to save their skin. Privatization of the commons, deep cuts to social services, and dismemberment of labor unions are enacted as a way to “save the economy.” Austerity has become a reality for so-called developed nations, but the true meaning and impact of these words have been understood and felt within the developing world for decades. Even in the United States, which touts its high standards of living, there are places like Pine Ridge Indian Reservation with an average life expectancy of 48 years of age for men and an infant mortality rate 5 times higher than the national average. Spanish sociologist Manuel Castells has dubbed these areas the Fourth World; Russell Means, an Oglala Sioux activist, goes further with his solemn pronouncement linking years of economic terrorism and corruption on Indian reservations with the corporate takeover of the United States:

“America has become one big Indian Reservation.” Franklin D. Roosevelt, in an April 29, 1938 message to Congress, warned that the growth of private power and industrial empire building could lead to fascism:

“The liberty of a democracy is not safe if the people tolerate the growth of private power to a point where it becomes stronger than their democratic state itself. That, in its essence, is fascism—ownership of government by an individual, by a group, or by any other controlling private power.”

The other Civil War, the crypto-fascist encroachment on democracy, cannot be ended with a cease-fire or a truce. To surrender now is to surrender forever.

The elites that own the governments behind the world’s largest economies are gathering with NATO in Chicago on May 19-20, 2012 to discuss global political and economic policy. Far from healthy international cooperation seeking to end worldwide issues like poverty and disease, summits like these push capitalist ideology into local communities, disrupting traditional ways of life. The horrifying trend of farmer suicides in India—at least 17,368 in 2009 alone—illustrates the results of globalization from above. Don Welsh of the Chicago’s Convention and Tourism Bureau illustrates the summit’s goals precisely:

“To penetrate international markets takes time and money, and this is going to help us showcase to the international markets in a quick way.”

The Group of 8 (G8) would rather the world’s citizens ignore the fact that multi-national corporations having unregulated political power has effectively derailed democratic representation by installing technocrats over elected officials in places like Greece and Italy, that elections in the United States are being turned into auctions for the highest bidder, and that deregulated financial markets and neoliberal trade agreements decimate the environment and worker’s rights in the Global South while ignoring basic issues of economic inequality in developed countries.

Draconian measures are already being put into place to squelch dissent. Under the rule of former White House Chief of Staff and current Chicago Mayor Rahm Emanuel, police powers are being extended, along with public surveillance without oversight, restrictions on public activity, amplified sound, morning gatherings, and parades. New requirements for parades include a $1 million dollar insurance purchase and registration of every sign or banner that will be held by more than one person. They also require any organizer to “indemnify the city against any additional or uncovered third party claims against the city arising out of or caused by the parade,” and “agree to reimburse the city for any damage to the public way or city property arising out of or caused by the parade.” In other words, should some outside group decide to crash your event, the City of Chicago could hold you financially responsible. Given the history of police infiltrators and provocateurs, this guideline effectively crushes any activity the City disagrees with. Say goodbye to Saint Patrick’s Day, to say nothing of the Occupy Wall Street movement itself. Naomi Klein quoted Chicago School economist Milton Friedman, a spiritual forefather of deregulation, on the best way for capitalists to enact the reforms they wish to see in her book, The Shock Doctrine:

“Only a crisis—actual or perceived—produces real change. When the crisis occurs, the actions that are taken depend on the ideas that are lying around. That, I believe, is our basic function … until the politically impossible becomes politically inevitable.”

This call for a crisis, echoed in the aforementioned Project for a New American Century call for a “new Pearl Harbor” sets the stage for authoritarian controls, not only in Chicago, but around the world. Think 9/11 and nation-building, right-wing coups in South America and the Middle East, post-Communist Russia, and in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina.

After hyping a real or inflated crisis—helped by mass media in Chicago by denouncing “anarchists” and “socialists” and “illegal Occupations” on 24/7 infotainment channels—the next step is to authorize excessive force. Emanuel has set the stage by pushing legislation that allows him to marshal and deputize the United States Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA), the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), the United States Department of Justice’s Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms (ATF), and the entire United States Department of Justice (DOJ); as well as state police (the Illinois department of state police and the Illinois attorney general), county law enforcement (State’s Attorney of Cook County), and any “other law enforcement agencies determined by the superintendent of police to be necessary for the fulfillment of law enforcement functions.”

In addition to the thousands of federal agents who will be descending upon Chicago, this last provision allows Emanuel to hire Blackwater mercenaries and other private paramilitary forces to do his dirty work. Not only will this outsource city activities to private enterprises, a beloved capitalist tactic, but it gives these outside groups protection from lawsuits, while requiring none of the federally mandated civil rights protections. Lawsuits will fall on the backs of taxpayers—socializing the risk and privatizing the cost. These laws, and laws like the National Defense Authorization Act of 2012, present a chilling effect on the right to freedom of expression and propagate a culture of fear. The Nuremberg Trial of Hermann Goering further reveals the map used by authoritarian governments:

“The people don’t want war, but they can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. This is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and for exposing the country to danger. It works the same in every country.”

A bloodless coup by spineless technocrats has taken place. They manufacture consent, using the state to provide a patina of moral legitimacy, while they expand their security apparatus to control every aspect of waking life. Our way out of this authoritarianism will be illuminated by the fires of our resistance.

August Spies, an anarchist known for his aggressive rhetoric in bringing about the eight-hour workday, spoke of the other Civil War before his execution in 1886.

“Anarchism does not mean bloodshed; it does not mean robbery, arson, etc. These monstrosities are, on the contrary, the characteristic features of capitalism.”

When asked if anarchy was a utopian dream, Rudolf Rocker stated that he was an anarchist not because he viewed anarchism as the final goal, but because there is no such thing as the final goal. But his demand for perpetual reclamation of human rights does not mean that we should have no aspirations.

Our first goal? We must end capitalism—and its faulty notion of peace.


Dr. Zakk Flash is an anarchist political writer, radical community activist, and editor of the Central Oklahoma Black/Red Alliance (COBRA). He lives in Norman, Oklahoma.

Find more about the Central Oklahoma Black/Red Alliance (COBRA) at http://www.facebook.com/COBRACollective.

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Madeline Lane-McKinley and Jeb Purucker: Master Plan Critique

Editor’s Notes: The premise of this essay is a critique of how the student left appropriates and historicizes the Master Plan. The essay is co-authored by Graduate Students (and comrades) Madeline Lane-McKinley and Jeb Purucker and is one of many articles written for a March 1st zine at UCSC. -CB

“We are paying more than ever before and getting far less in return.”  This is the line repeated ad nauseum by well meaning students and professors across the UC system.  At UCSC, it is the argument at the center of the “Teach the Budget” curriculum being disseminated in lectures and sections.  But it also an admission that we have already lost the battle.

Still, the statement is not exactly false: tuition has tripled over the past decade while services, TAships and whole departments have been – and continue to be – slashed left and right.  To speak of this process in terms of the widening gap between the price we are paying for our education and the value we are getting in return, however, is to conceive of the problem through the same logic that Mark Yudof and the privatizers use to raise our tuition in the first place.

While opposition to what is being called the ‘privatization’ of the university is definitely growing, so far this growth has been largely through internalizing many of the basic contradictions of the system that we are trying to oppose.  And it is in this sense that the Student Left – in its response to a crisis – produces and perpetuates its own crisis.

On the one hand, we say that higher education is a right, or that it is a public good that should be provided by the people of California free of charge.  On the other hand, we say that the measure of the brokenness of the system is the degree to which what we are purchasing from the university is overpriced.

The local constellation of anti-privatization at UCSC is “Teach the Budget” – a comprehensive curriculum which has supplied Teaching Assistants, Staff, and Faculty with a lesson plan for addressing the budget cuts in undergraduate courses – and it is by no means exempt from this internal crisis of the Student Left.  While “Teach the Budget” has undoubtedly raised the campus’s level of awareness of the budget cuts, and has ostensibly “radicalized” many of the graduate- and undergraduate students who comprise the current student movement, it is nevertheless a very clear distillation of what is now rendering the anti-privatization movement ineffective.

Here, it should be useful to elaborate the generic narrative of the ‘budget crisis’ at hand, which is premised on the “Master Plan for Higher Education” – a document from 1960, in which the current system of public universities in California was set up.  Signed by then Governer Pat Brown, the father of current Governor Jerry Brown, the plan held that a robust system of higher education was something that benefited the entire state, and that access should be provided for all qualified Californians free of charge.  The result of this was a “boom” in California: the concentration of well funded research universities contributed to the explosion of the Tech sector in northern California and Aerospace  in the south.  This is no small part of what made California the eighth largest economy in the world.

Then, according to this generic narrative, tragedy struck.  Sometime before 1978, Californians allowed themselves to be convinced that taxes are unequivocally evil and the result was Proposition 13.  This law capped property taxes and made it impossible for the legislature to raise future revenue without a 2/3 majority.  This was part of a broader tax revolt of the late seventies that would bring Ronald Reagan to the White House and Margaret Thatcher to Downing Street.

Trends continued, and by 2004 Governor Schwarzenegger and the leadership of the UC and CSU systems were ready to consider a dramatic revision of the 1960 master plan.  The deal they signed, called the “Compact for Higher Education,” involved the universities agreeing to accept smaller portions of their budgets from the state, with the understanding that the shortfall would be made up by heavier reliance on private sources of revenue—grants, investments, and, importantly, tuition.

This basic story leads to an easy diagnosis of the problem.  Sometime between 1960 and 2004, we as a society changed the way we think of the value of an education.  In 1960, a university system was valuable as a public good that benefited the people as a whole.  Now, we think of our degrees as commodities that we as individuals purchase from a university that is increasingly indistinguishable from a private corporation.  On this logic, the value of an education should be more or less quantifiable on the market: we can get upset about tuition increases insofar as they raise the sticker-price of an education above what that education will bring in return, but we can’t be opposed to fee hikes in principle.

According to this stock narrative, the solution to our current predicament is relatively straightforward: we need to build a social and political movement that can reverse this trend of privatization.  We need to get back to an era when we as a society valued universities as part of the commons and was willing to pay enough in taxes to maintain them.  We need to return to that great, utopian master plan; we need to undo the travesty of neoliberalism.  What could be more obvious than this?

However, while the simple solution of this generic narrative of ‘crisis’ provides an easy means of “radicalizing” students, it is nevertheless the sort of naïve and ahistorical thinking that is ultimately dangerous to the Student Left.  An account of how we moved from valuing education as a public good to thinking of it as a private commodity may be a coherent narrative, but it is by no meas a history.

More precisely, this story is the mythological underpinning of the dominant, programatic strain of the current Student Left.  The narrative of ‘crisis’ which seeks its solution in the Master Plan, that is, absurdly romanticizes the document as an alternative to privatization.  This absurdity becomes immediately apparent as soon as we actually look at what our historical counterparts in the 1960s thought of it.  Here is an excerpt from Mario Savio’s famous 1964 speech, which was one of the foundational moments of the “Free Speech Movement” in Berkeley— a sort of Ur-text of 1960s radicalism:

Well I ask you to consider — if this is a firm, and if the Board of Regents are the Board of Directors, and if President Kerr in fact is the manager, then I tell you something — the faculty are a bunch of employees and we’re the raw material! But we’re a bunch of raw materials that don’t mean to be —  have any process upon us. Don’t mean to be made into any product! Don’t mean — Don’t mean to end up being bought by some clients of the University, be they the government, be they industry, be they organized labor, be they anyone! We’re human beings!

While the Student Left frequently appropriates Savio as an activist icon – along with UCSC radicals like Angela Davis and Bettina Aptheker – this contrived legacy is, in fact, an erasure of history.  What we have to keep in mind, here, is that the student movement of the 1960s involved a fundamental opposition to the Master Plan.  Today, on the contrary, the Master Plan represents the limit of possibility to our current narrative of privatization as a ‘crisis’; it is the absolute horizon beyond which radical imagination breaks down.

A properly historical account would require that we not think of the distinction of public universities and privatized ones as two opposed ideals, between which we simply have to make a choice.  If our comrades in 1964 already saw privatization built into the structure of the public university, then we have to inquire into the forces that caused this logic to manifest in one way in the sixties and in a different way forty years later. We need to see both the 1960 Master Plan and the 2004 Compact for Higher Education not as opposed principles but as historically specific – and more or less adequate—attempts to address the role of universities in the capitalist society of the day.   What changed between 1960 and 2004 is not simply the ideological value attached to higher education (or to taxes), but rather the objective requirements that capitalism has for universities in general.  The Master Plan cannot be extracted from the context of a post-war expansionary world economy, Keynesian policies of government expenditure, cold-war defense spending and a thriving industrial American economy resting on massive government subsidy to education.  By 2004, the world looked nothing like this, and there is no going back.

In its imperative to return to the Master Plan, the Student Left is by no means unique but is rather part of a broader crisis of thought today.  This is a crisis of historicity, for which the main locus is a troubled historical narrative of the 1960s.  ‘Historicity,’ in this sense, is the experience of history; it is the experience of making history.  To this process, the 1960s has been instrumental in the production of radical subjectivities – but this process must be acknowledged as working within the telos of global capital, rather than against it.

The myth of the 1960s is an originary narrative, according to which there was once a time that can still be returned to – a time that will renew our social movements, and our conditions of possibility.  Historically, the critique of this myth has been an effective strategy of the Right for precluding revolutionary energies and promoting expansionary capitalism.  While the Right has certainly profited from the notion of an “end of history” in the post-soviet era,  this mythologization of the 1960s must be recognized in the political calculus of American Liberalism as well.  In 2008, this is precisely what happened for the Democratic party: between its primary candidates of Obama and Clinton, it was the myth of returning to the civil rights and women’s liberation movements, both now rendered obsolete with figures of “post-race” and “post-feminism.”  This campaign of “hope,” with all its echoes of the 1960s, and its highly manufacted historicity, was counter-revolutionary to the core.

Here, we might interject with a distinction between this liberal tendency of mythologizing the 1960s and the general Leftist line of critiquing the Obama administration and corporatized politics at large.  Such an interjection, however, would miss the point: rather, the Left must now disentangle itself from this myth of the 1960s completely.  While it may be clear, especially at the impasse of another presidential election, that Obama’s campaign of 2008 very much drew from the 1960s as a narrative of nostalgia and pastiche, it should also be clear that this narrative is the mythological underpinning of many far more radical social movements.  Just because we have a critique of liberalism – as merely propogating privatization – we are not immune from this broader historical critique, this crisis of historicity.  As a means of producing a collective, radicalized politics, the Left has been animated by a return to a different, yet all the while mythological notion of the 1960s.  In this sense, the 1960s provides a legacy, a set of icons, a set of slogans – as Marx would have it, “the time-honored disguise and borrowed language” of a previous revolutionary moment.

The fetishization of the Master Plan takes this one step further.  What we are gesturing back to now is no longer even sixties radicalism, but the thing that those much romanticized radicals were already against.  The question that we have to ask is: why this regression?  Why does our historical imagination latch onto this moment and see it as the antithesis of the forces we are trying to combat in the present?  This is a bigger question than can be fully addressed here, but we can perhaps begin to sketch out the elements that an answer might include.

If the Master Plan cannot be disentangled from the moment of post-war expansionary capitalism and the military-industrial-university complex that sustained this growth, then a call for a return to that model of university funding requires not just a return to an older way of valuing education, but a return to an earlier phase of capitalism itself.  Herein lies the naivete of a politics based on the myth-image of the sixties.

This is precisely what many of our comrades in the student movement (and Occupy more generally) are calling for, though usually the military-industrial element to this is shrouded in confusion.  Built into the call for a return to the Master Plan is a broader goal of restoring Keynesian levels of government investment in a range of services and programs for which we as a society used to pay.  What this misses is that the shift away from Keynesian policies is not simply something that bad people (be they neo-liberal politicians or Chicago economists) tricked us into.  The reason that we can’t simply press the reset button on the past forty years of government tax and education policy has to be sought not in political history at all, but in the objective transformations of the industrial base of capitalism itself.

We are used to thinking of the last forty years as a dynamic time for global capitalism.  It has seen fantastic increases in personal fortunes and the extension of capital into every corner of the globe.  But what is becoming increasingly clear is that this “growth” is largely the result of a massive upward redistribution of wealth.  Underlying this whole process is an industrial base which, despite periodic flurries of activity, has been decreasingly dynamic since the early seventies.  When one actually crunches the numbers, the rate of profit in industry as a whole—not just in the United States, but in the world more generally—has been tapering off.  Simply put, the world’s capacity to produce stuff has skyrocketed to such an extent (and so much capital has been sunk in this productive capacity) that the rate of return for each individual capital is suffering. In this context, in order to keep the ship upright, capitalists are now seeking gain elsewhere.

The narrative that we are used to telling, about the policy shift towards deregulation, tax cuts and the enrichment of the ‘1%’ at the expense of everyone else explains very little.  Instead, it  needs to be viewed as the effect of this much larger hollowing out of the profitability of capitalism as a whole.  Any explanation of the crisis in university funding has to be sought here, rather than in some mythologized account of the glorious sixties.

The result of this inability to grasp this historical flat-lining of capitalism leads us to a strange duality in the way we speak of the crisis.   The logic of capital has developed to such an extent that we no longer even have the language to articulate an oppositional politics without resorting to the categories that we are trying to oppose.  This explains the first symptomatic slip of many of our comrades who describe the crisis in terms of the divergence between the price of an education and its ‘value’.  The flip-side of this is that when we do sense that something is lacking in this description of our crisis, the only recourse we have is to an ever receding and mythologized narrative of a time when some other oppositional discourse was still possible. The fact that we have landed on the Master Plan—itself a document that is inseparable from a certain moment in the development of American capitalism— suggests just how totalizing the crisis has become.  The result is that we are constantly bouncing between these two ways of framing the problem, between thinking in a language that takes the terms of capital as eternal and total, and thinking in terms of an equally ahistorical and sanitized image of our own past.  This antinomy defines our present struggle.  It is this opposition that we must now break open.

And that — that brings me to the second mode of civil disobedience. There’s a time when the operation of the machine becomes so odious, makes you so sick at heart that you can’t take part! You can’t even passively take part! And you’ve got to put your bodies upon the gears and upon the wheels, upon the levers, upon all the apparatus — and you’ve got to make it stop! And you’ve got to indicate to the people who run it, to the people who own it — that unless you’re free the machine will be prevented from working at all!

– Mario Savio: Sproul Hall Steps (UC Berkeley), December 2, 1964

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The Movement of Squares and the Circulation of Struggles

 

A discussion with Jasper Bernes (involved with Occupy Oakland) and members of the journal Endnotes

March 11, 3 pm
The Public School @ China Town (951 Chung King Rd., Los Angeles, CA)
View Map · Get Directions

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Communiqués

Report From Students On The UC Davis Professoriate’s Vote Of Confidence In Chancellor Katehi

via Cuntrastamu!

Report from students on the uc davis professoriate’s vote of confidence in linda katehi’s performance her “duties” « cuntrastamu!

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Communiqués

Blow to Free Speech: UC Berkeley Chancellor Invited Use of Force Against Student Protesters

By Linda Lye, ACLU Staff Attorney

Political protest and vigorous debate are vital elements of a healthy democracy and essential attributes of university communities in particular. A university is, after all, a community of ideas, and so universities should be especially welcoming of protest and dissent. For that reason, we found it shocking and disappointing when UC Berkeley responded to peaceful student protesters last fall with baton blows. Even more troubling, the ACLU-NC recently obtained emails in response to a Public Records Act request that show that the police conduct that day was authorized at the very highest levels of the University.  

To recap the undisputed events of Nov. 9, 2011, students had organized a campus-wide day of action to focus attention on budget cuts, the need for affordable higher education, and the connections between issues affecting students at the University of California, the nationwide Occupy movement. Events included a wide range of peaceful, expressive activity on pressing political issues of the day. They were marred by not one but two rounds of baton beatings, in which riot-clad law enforcement beat students and faculty who had peacefully assembled around tents pitched on the University’s central plaza, just north of the steps named for Free Speech Movement icon Mario Savio. The first baton beatings occurred in the afternoon, between approximately 3 and 4 p.m., followed by another round that evening.

While public messages issued by the chancellor in the days after the beatings acknowledge that he had been in some contact from abroad, they suggest that his role was merely one of a passive recipient of information. Email correspondence between Chancellor Birgeneau and Vice-Chancellor Breslauer on Nov. 9, after the first but before the second round of police beatings, paints a different picture.

According to one email exchange, Vice-Chancellor Breslauer wrote to the chancellor at 4:28 p.m. on Nov. 9, after the first skirmish, stating:

Protesters locked arms to prevent police from getting to the tents. Police used batons to gain access to the tents. There are still 200-300 people gathered, watching, and, in some cases, screaming at the police…

Within the hour, Chancellor Birgeneau wrote back:

This is really unfortunate. However, our policies are absolutely clear. Obviously this group want[ed] exactly such a confrontation.

Chancellor Birgeneau then wrote back again, at 5:36 p.m. Pacific time, approximately an hour after receiving the initial email, stating:

It is critical that we do not back down on our no encampment policy. Otherwise, we will end up in Quan land.

After this email exchange, law enforcement moved in on the protesters for the second round of beatings.

This email exchange shows that Chancellor Birgeneau was informed that police “used batons” in the afternoon exchange, did not question the need for force, did not inquire whether other non-violent alternatives had or could have been explored, and instead ratified the afternoon exchange as unfortunate but necessary. (It is possible there were other communications in which he raised these questions, but if so, the University has not yet provided them to us.)

Equally troubling is Chancellor Birgeneau’s statement: “It is critical that we do not back down on our no encampment policy.” Because he knew that police had used batons to take down the tents once, this statement reads like a firm directive to take down any further tents, using batons or whatever other means might be necessary to effectuate that goal. And indeed, that is precisely what occurred later that evening.

This exchange confirms our deepest concerns – that the University treated the Occupy Cal protests like a dire threat that justified the use of baton-wielding riot police, and failed to assess the situation on the ground objectively and recognize it for what it was – a large assembly of students engaged in peaceful protest over critical issues of the day. Equally troubling is that the mistake was made at the highest levels of the University’s leadership. While individual officers were certainly involved, the decision and directive to enforce the University’s “no encampment” rule, whatever the cost, was made by the chancellor himself.

We have shared this with the Berkeley Police Review Board, which is currently conducting an investigation into the matter. (Letter to the PRB.)

The University should not emerge from this episode by pointing to one or two rogue officers and calling the problem solved. In addition to substantially revising policies on free speech, protest, crowd control, and use of force, which we have asked the University to do system-wide, the University must additionally take affirmative steps to bring its practice – at all levels of the institution – in line with its ideals, so that it treats protests as a vital contribution, and not a threat, to the lifeblood of the University.