http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2012/05/02/joseph-stiglitz-the-99-percent-wakes-up.html
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2012/sep/07/quebec-students-lesson-protest-politics
There's obviously tons more you can read on a myriad of movements from the Arab Spring to the Maple Spring and all points in between such as the indignados and Occupy Wall Street along with its various offshoots. There's quite a bit on the subject on my blog if you fancy looking it over (the link is on the right). You'll also notice a new link below that to something called RabbitFire.org. This is a project being put together by a few other teachers and myself in which we're meeting to discuss various issues from our speaking classes. I'll copy and paste the two articles below. See you Thursday.
Joseph Stiglitz: The 99 Percent Wakes Up
Inequality isn’t only plaguing America—the Arab Spring flowered because international capitalism is broken. In From Cairo to Wall Street: Voices from the Global Spring, edited by Anya Schiffrin and Eamon Kircher-Allen, Nobel
laureate Joseph Stiglitz says the world is finally rising up and
demanding a democracy where people, not dollars, matter—the best
government that money can buy just isn’t good enough.
There are times in history when people all over the world seem to rise up,
to say that something is wrong and to ask for change. This was true of
the tumultuous years of 1848 and 1968. It was certainly true in 2011. In
many countries there was anger and unhappiness about joblessness,
income distribution, and inequality and a feeling that the system is
unfair and even broken.
Both
1848 and 1968 came to signify the start of a new era. The year 2011 may
also. The modern era of globalization also played a role. It helped the
ferment and spread of ideas across borders. The youth uprising that
began in Tunisia, a little country on the coast of North Africa, spread to nearby Egypt, then to other countries of the Middle East, to Spain and Greece, to the United Kingdom and to Wall Street,
and to cities around the world. In some cases, the spark of protest
seemed, at least temporarily, quenched. In others, though, small
protests precipitated societal upheavals, taking down Egypt’s Hosni
Mubarak, Libya’s Muammar Qaddafi, and other governments and government
officials.
Something Is Wrong
That
the young people would rise up in the dictatorships of Tunisia and
Egypt was understandable. They had no opportunities to call for change
through democratic processes. But electoral politics had also failed in
Western democracies. There was increasing disillusionment with the
political process. Youth participation in the 2010 U.S. election was
telling: an unacceptably low voter turnout of 20 percent that was
commensurate with the unacceptably high unemployment rate. President
Barack Obama had promised “change we can believe in,” but he had
delivered economic policies that seemed like more of the same—designed
and implemented by some of the same individuals who were the architects
of the economic calamity. In countries like Tunisia and Egypt, the youth
were tired of aging, sclerotic leaders who protected their own
interests at the expense of the rest of society.
And yet, there were, in these youthful protesters of the Occupy Movement—joined
by their parents, grandparents, and teachers—signs of hope. The
protesters were not revolutionaries or anarchists. They were not trying
to overthrow the system. They still had the belief that the electoral process might work,
if only there was a strong enough voice from the street. The protesters
took to the street in order to push the system to change, to remind
governments that they are accountable to the people.
The name chosen by the young Spanish protesters—los indignados, the indignant or outraged—encapsulated the feelings across the world. They had much to be indignant about. In the United States, the slogan became “the 99 percent.” The protesters who took this slogan echoed the title of an article I wrote for the magazine Vanity Fair in early 2011 that was titled “Of the 1%, for the 1%, and by the 1%.” The article cited studies that described the enormous increase in inequality in the United States—to the point where 1 percent of the population controls some 40 percent of the wealth and garner for themselves some 20 percent of all the income. In other countries, the lack of opportunities and jobs and the feeling that ordinary people were excluded from the economic and political system caused the feeling of outrage. In his essay, Egyptian activist Jawad Nabulsi discusses how the system was fixed in favor of the upper classes, and he uses the word fairness repeatedly to describe what was lacking in Egypt under Mubarak.
The name chosen by the young Spanish protesters—los indignados, the indignant or outraged—encapsulated the feelings across the world. They had much to be indignant about. In the United States, the slogan became “the 99 percent.” The protesters who took this slogan echoed the title of an article I wrote for the magazine Vanity Fair in early 2011 that was titled “Of the 1%, for the 1%, and by the 1%.” The article cited studies that described the enormous increase in inequality in the United States—to the point where 1 percent of the population controls some 40 percent of the wealth and garner for themselves some 20 percent of all the income. In other countries, the lack of opportunities and jobs and the feeling that ordinary people were excluded from the economic and political system caused the feeling of outrage. In his essay, Egyptian activist Jawad Nabulsi discusses how the system was fixed in favor of the upper classes, and he uses the word fairness repeatedly to describe what was lacking in Egypt under Mubarak.
Something
else helped give force to the protests: a sense of unfairness. In
Tunisia and Egypt and other parts of the Middle East, it wasn’t just
that jobs were hard to come by, but those jobs that were available went
to the politically connected. In the United States, things seemed more
fair, but only superficially so. People who graduated from the best
schools with the best grades had a better chance at the good jobs. But
the system was stacked because wealthy parents sent their children to
the best kindergartens, grade schools, and high schools, and those
students had a far better chance of getting into the elite universities.
In many of these top schools, the majority of the student body is from
the top quartile, while the third and fourth quartiles are very poorly
represented. To get good jobs, one needed experience; to get experience,
one needed an internship; and to get a good internship, one needed both
connections and the financial wherewithal to be able to get along
without a source of income.
Around
the world, the financial crisis unleashed a new sense of unfairness, or
more accurately, a new realization that our economic system was unfair,
a feeling that had been vaguely felt in the past but now could no
longer be ignored. The system of rewards—who received high incomes and
who received low—had always been questioned, and apologists for the
inequality had provided arguments for why such inequality was
inevitable, even perhaps desirable. The inequities had been growing
slowly over time. It is sometimes said that watching changes in income
inequality was like watching grass grow. Day by day, one couldn’t see
any change. But as those who live near abandoned subprime houses know
all too well, within a few months, scrub and weeds can quickly replace
the best of manicured lawns. Over time, the change is unmistakable, and
so too, over time, the inequality has increased to the point where it
cannot be ignored. And that’s what’s been happening in the United States
and many other countries around the world.
Even
in the United States, a country not given to class warfare, there is
today a broad consensus that the top should be taxed at a higher rate or
at least not taxed at a lower rate. While some at the top may believe
that they earned what they received through hard work, and it is their
right to keep it, the reality (which many of the richest do realize) is
that no one succeeds on his own. The poor often work far harder than the
richest. In developing countries, the poor lack the chance of education
and have no access to funds, and their economies are dysfunctional, but
they work long hours carrying water, looking for fuel, and toiling at
manual labor. Even in developed countries, life chances are affected by
where one is born and the education and income of one’s parents. Often
it comes down to luck, being in the right place at the right time.
It
was not just the worsening inequality that outraged the protesters of
2011. It was a sense that at least some of those incomes were not
honestly earned. Injustice motivated the Occupy Wall Streeters just as
it motivated the young Tunisians of the Arab Spring. If someone earns
huge incomes as a result of a brilliant contribution that leads to huge
increases in incomes of the rest of society, it might seem fair that he
receive a fraction, perhaps a substantial fraction, of what he has
contributed. Indeed, the dominant paradigm in economics attempted to
justify societal inequalities by saying (I should say, assuming)
that they were related to differences in “marginal” productivities:
those who, at the margin, contributed more to society got more.
Now,
in the aftermath of the crisis, it seemed grossly unfair that the
bankers walked off with outsized bonuses while those who suffered from
the crisis brought on by those bankers’ reckless and predatory lending
went without a job. It seemed grossly unfair that government bailed out
the banks but seemed reluctant to even extend unemployment insurance for
those who through no fault of their own could not get employment or to
provide anything but token help to the millions who were losing their
homes. What happened undermined the prevailing justification for
inequality, that those who made greater contributions to society receive
(and should receive) larger rewards. Bankers reaped large rewards even
though their contribution to society—and even to their firms—had been negative. In
other sectors, CEOs who ran their firms into the ground, causing losses
for shareholders and workers alike, were rewarded with gargantuan
bonuses.
If
no one is accountable, the problem must lie in the economic system.
This is the inevitable conclusion and the reason that the protesters are
right to be indignant. Every barrel has its rotten apples, but the
problem, as MIT Professor Susan Silbey has written, comes when the whole
barrel is rotten.
Much of what has gone on can only be described by the words moral deprivation. Something wrong had
happened to the moral compass of so many of the people working in the
financial sector. When the norms of a society change in a way that so
many have lost their moral compass—and the few whistle-blowers go
unheeded—that says something significant about the society. The problem
is not just the individuals who have lost their moral compass but
society itself.
What
the protests tell us is that there was outrage and that outrage gives
hope. Americans have always had an idealistic streak, reflected both in
the instruction in schools and in political rhetoric. Kids read the
Declaration of Independence, “all men are created equal,” and they read
the words literally, all men, white and black, and they believe
them. They recite the Pledge of Allegiance, which promises “justice for
all,” and they believe it.
Market Failures
The
list of grievances against corporations was long, and longstanding. For
instance, cigarette companies stealthily made their dangerous products
more addictive, and even as they tried to persuade Americans that there
was no scientific evidence of the dangers of their products, their files
were filled with evidence to the contrary. Exxon had similarly used its
money to try to persuade Americans that the evidence on global warming
was weak, even though the National Academy of Sciences had joined with
every other scientific body in saying that the evidence was strong.
Chemical companies had poisoned the water, and when their plants blew
up, they refused to take responsibility for the death and destruction
that followed. Drug companies used their monopoly power to charge prices
that were a multiple of their costs of production, condemning to death
those who could not afford to pay.
The
financial crisis itself had brought out more abuses. While the poor
suffered from predatory lending practices, almost every American
suffered from deceptive credit card practices. And while the economy was
still reeling from the misdeeds of the financial sector, the BP oil
spill showed another aspect of the recklessness: lack of care in
drilling had endangered the environment and threatened jobs of thousands
of people depending on fishing and tourism.
But even before the crisis, the evidence was that the market economy was not delivering for most Americans. GDP
was going up but most citizens were worse off. Not even the laws of
economics long championed by the political right seemed to hold.
Earlier, we explained how the theory that is supposed to relate rewards
to social contributions had been falsified by the Great Recession. The
theory holds that competition is supposed to be so strong in a
perfectly efficient market that “excess” profits (returns in excess of
the normal return on capital) approach zero. Yet each year we saw the
banks walking off with mega-profits so large that it is inconceivable
that markets are really competitive. Standard courses in economics talk
about the law of demand and supply, where prices are determined to
equate the two. In the theoretical model, there is no such thing as
unemployment, no such thing as credit rationing. But in fact, we have a
world in which there are both huge unmet needs (e.g., investments to
bring the poor out of poverty, to bring development to Africa and the
other less developed countries in other continents around the world, to
retrofit the global economy to face the challenges of global warming)
and vast underutilized resources (e.g., workers and machines that are
idle or not producing up to their potential). As of December 2011, some
25 million Americans who would like a full time job can’t get one, and
the numbers in Europe are similar.
Innovation
and globalization provide the most recent—and the most
important—contexts to observe the failings of the market. Both were
supposed to make our economy more prosperous, and yet both seem to have
resulted in an economy in which most citizens are becoming worse off.
In
recent research, Bruce Greenwald and I have traced the roots of the
Great Depression to an increase in agricultural productivity so rapid
that fewer and fewer people were needed to grow the world’s food. In the
United States in 1900, a large portion of the labor force worked on
farms; today less than 2 percent of the population grows more food than
even an obese population can consume—and there are large amounts left
over for exports. Over time, most people working in agriculture who were
no longer needed looked for alternative employment. But at times, the
movement away from agriculture was far from smooth. Between 1929 and
1932, agricultural prices plummeted, and incomes fell by an amount
variously estimated at one-third or two-thirds. Such precipitous
declines in income resulted in corresponding declines in demand for
manufactured goods. Rural real estate prices plummeted and credit became
unavailable, and so, despite their already low income, farmers were
trapped in the declining sector. Just when migration out of the rural
sector should have been increased, it came to a halt. If people had been
able to relocate, if new jobs had been created, the increases in
productivity would have been welfare-increasing, but as it was, given
the market failures, those in both the city and the rural sector
suffered.
It
seems strange, in the midst of the Great Recession, when one out of six
Americans who would like to get a full-time job is unable to get one,
to see stores replacing low-wage cashier clerks with machines. The
innovation may be impressive, profits may even be increased, but the
broader economic and social consequences cannot be ignored: higher
unemployment, lower wages for unskilled labor as the balance of demand
and supply tilts more against workers, and greater inequality.
Political Failures
The
political system seems to be failing as much as the economic system,
and in some ways, the two failures are intertwined. The system failed to
prevent the crisis, it failed to remedy the crisis, it failed to check
the growing inequality, it failed to protect those at the bottom, and it
failed to prevent the corporate abuses. And while it was failing, the
growing deficits suggested that these failures were likely to continue
into the future.
Americans,
Europeans, and people in other democracies around the world take great
pride in their democratic institutions. But the protesters have called
into question whether there is a real democracy. Real democracy
is more than the right to vote once every two or four years. The choices
have to be meaningful. The politicians have to listen to the voices of
the citizens. However, increasingly, and especially in the United
States, it seems that the political system is more akin to “one dollar
one vote” than to “one person one vote.” Rather the correcting the
market’s failures, the political system is reinforcing them.
Tax systems in which a billionaire like Warren Buffett pays less taxes
(as a percentage of his income) than those who work for him, or in
which speculators who helped bring down the global economy are taxed at
lower rates than are those who work for their income reinforce the view
that politics is unfair, and contribute to the growing inequality.
The
failures in politics and economics are related—and they reinforce each
other. A political system that amplifies the voice of the wealthy also
provides opportunity for laws and regulations—and the administration of
laws and regulations—to be designed in ways that not only fail to
protect the ordinary citizens against the wealthy but enrich the wealthy
at the expense of the rest of society.
Globalization and Markets
My
criticism of globalization lies not with globalization itself, but with
the way it has been managed: it is a two-edged sword, and if it is not
managed well, the consequences can be disastrous. When managed well—and a
few countries have succeeded in managing it well, at least so far—it
can bring enormous benefits.
The
same is true for the market economy: the power of markets, for good and
for evil, is enormous. The increase in productivity and standards of
living in the past two hundred years have far exceeded those of the
previous two millennia, and markets have played a central role—though so
too has government, a fact that free marketers typically fail to
acknowledge. But markets have to be tamed and tempered, and that has to
be done repeatedly to make sure that they work to the benefit of most
citizens. That market control happened in the United States in the
progressive era, when competition laws were passed for the first time.
It happened during the New Deal, when social security, employment, and
minimum wage laws were passed. The message of the Occupy Wall Streeters,
and other protesters around the world, was that markets once again
needed to be tamed and tempered. Even in parts of the Middle East, where
they brought increases in growth, the benefits did not trickle down.
From Cairo to Wall Street
In
more than forty years of travel to developing countries, I have seen
these problems at close hand. And throughout 2011, I gladly accepted
invitations to Egypt, Spain, and Tunisia, and I met with protesters in
Madrid’s Retiro Park, at Zuccotti Park in New York, and in Cairo where I
spoke with the young men and women who had played a central role at
Tahrir Square. As we talked, it was clear to me that they understood how
in many ways the system has failed. The protesters have been criticized
for not having an agenda, but such criticism misses the point of
protest movements. They are an expression of frustration with the
electoral process. They are an alarm.
At
one level, these protesters are asking for so little: for a chance to
use their skills, for the right to decent work at decent pay, for a
fairer economy and society. Their requests are not revolutionary but
evolutionary. But at another level, they are asking for a great deal:
for a democracy where people, not dollars, matter; and for a market
economy that delivers on what it is supposed to do. The two
demands are related: unfettered markets do not work well, as we have
seen. For markets to work the way markets are supposed to work, there
has to be appropriate government regulation. But for that to occur, we
have to have a democracy that reflects the general interests, not the
special interests. We may have the best government that money can buy,
but that won’t be good enough.
In
some ways, the protesters have already accomplished a great deal: think
tanks, government agencies, and the media have confirmed their
allegations, of the high and unjustifiable level of inequality,
the failures of the market system. The expression “we are the 99
percent” has entered into popular consciousness. No one can be sure
where the Arab Spring or the Occupy Wall Street movements will lead. But
of this we can be sure: these young protesters have already altered
public discourse and the consciousness of both ordinary citizens and
politicians.
So this is how it's done. Students in Quebec, in rebellion
against their government over tuition fees, have scored an amazing
victory in the province's general elections.
The Liberal government led by Jean Charest, which ran on a law-and-order platform against the students, has been defeated. Its plans to implement an 82% tuition fee increase are shredded for now, and the harsh emergency legislation it passed to quell the upsurge is history. Charest is resigning from politics. Two members of the leftist group, Québec Solidaire, have been elected, and the party gained more than 6% of the popular vote.
For those used to student movements that erupt suddenly only to deflate within a few weeks or months, this defies belief. How, then, was such an effective action actually sustained, in defiance of police crackdowns and emergency legislation?
Students in Quebec inhabit militant traditions inherited from the "quiet revolution" of the 1960s, when the province's francophone majority pushed for full access to higher education as part of a series of sweeping reforms. This inaugurated a student movement, whose signature was the mass student strike. Each time a government attempted to drive up tuition fees, the students walked out – and most of the time, they won. As a result, there is a thriving democratic culture among Quebec's students. While the NUS is converting itself into a tame lobbying organisation, Quebec students have a tradition of grassroots organising, and four relatively democratic federal organisations that rank-and-file student bodies can affiliate with.
The radical spearhead of the movement is the Coalition Large de l'Association pour une Solidarité Syndicale Étudiante, or Classe. Emerging from a decade of leftwing student unionism, Classe was explicitly formed in December 2011 to build a students' strike to stop the fees rise. Going further than most student bodies, it demanded the cancellation of all tuition fees, to be paid for by a tax on banks. This stance was very popular, and the group eventually incorporated 65 local affiliates and 100,000 members comprising the most politicised and activist core of the province's 400,000 strong student body.
General assemblies of students were held across Quebec, to discuss and implement a strike. This meant boycotting and picketing classes, and at their height the strikes achieved the support of 300,000 students. The structures of direct democracy built on campuses sustained the momentum behind the strikes, enabling students to meet, discuss and make decisions on a regular basis. Each month, the movement called a mass mobilisation, with tens of thousands of students gathering in the Place du Canada in Montreal. But there was also a heated debate over the strategy and goals of the movement. It wasn't enough to keep the momentum going. In addition to the strikes, radical students sought to disrupt the smooth functioning of the economy and the government, carrying out blockades and occupations of banks and government buildings.
But students also reached out to the labour movement. Theirs was a class issue, they insisted, and Classe called for a "social strike" of both students and workers. They consciously sought alliances with Rio Tinto workers locked out of their jobs, public sector workers facing cuts, campaigns against increased fees for healthcare, and local resistance to the government's attempts to turn over northern resources to the mining industry. Neighbourhood protests became a regular occurrence. A number of union federations passed motions for strike action, though as yet the resistance from union leaders is too strong, and the labour militants too weak, to make it happen.
Importantly, the student leadership refused to be divided. When the government excluded Classe from negotiations, in the hope of engaging the more moderate student federations in a compromise, the latter walked out.
The government's biggest mistake was passing Bill 78, imposing severe restrictions on the right of students to protest. Though supported by the Quebec Council of Employers, the bill was otherwise reviled. Rather than breaking the students, the repression produced a much wider movement. Up to half a million people marched in clear defiance of the law. Those returning home from law-breaking protests were greeted by families banging pots and pans in their support, from their windows and in the streets. Some of the country's largest trade unions joined in the protest. To get a sense of how improbable this is, compare it with our student protests beginning in November 2010, where the NUS and UCU leaderships organised timid demonstrations separate from the main protests.
The Liberals' defeat can be traced to that defiance. But the Parti Québécois, which has just won, is not an ally of the movement. The new government will probably seek to negotiate a smaller fees increase with the agreement of the less militant student bodies. At any rate, the movement has long been about more than fees. Classe intends to keep the pressure on, with new assemblies and protests, aiming to build the widest possible movement to challenge neoliberalism. British students should take the hint.
Quebec's students provide a lesson in protest politics
Sustained action over tuition fees helped defeat Quebec's Liberal government by appealing to a wide movement for change
The Liberal government led by Jean Charest, which ran on a law-and-order platform against the students, has been defeated. Its plans to implement an 82% tuition fee increase are shredded for now, and the harsh emergency legislation it passed to quell the upsurge is history. Charest is resigning from politics. Two members of the leftist group, Québec Solidaire, have been elected, and the party gained more than 6% of the popular vote.
For those used to student movements that erupt suddenly only to deflate within a few weeks or months, this defies belief. How, then, was such an effective action actually sustained, in defiance of police crackdowns and emergency legislation?
Students in Quebec inhabit militant traditions inherited from the "quiet revolution" of the 1960s, when the province's francophone majority pushed for full access to higher education as part of a series of sweeping reforms. This inaugurated a student movement, whose signature was the mass student strike. Each time a government attempted to drive up tuition fees, the students walked out – and most of the time, they won. As a result, there is a thriving democratic culture among Quebec's students. While the NUS is converting itself into a tame lobbying organisation, Quebec students have a tradition of grassroots organising, and four relatively democratic federal organisations that rank-and-file student bodies can affiliate with.
The radical spearhead of the movement is the Coalition Large de l'Association pour une Solidarité Syndicale Étudiante, or Classe. Emerging from a decade of leftwing student unionism, Classe was explicitly formed in December 2011 to build a students' strike to stop the fees rise. Going further than most student bodies, it demanded the cancellation of all tuition fees, to be paid for by a tax on banks. This stance was very popular, and the group eventually incorporated 65 local affiliates and 100,000 members comprising the most politicised and activist core of the province's 400,000 strong student body.
General assemblies of students were held across Quebec, to discuss and implement a strike. This meant boycotting and picketing classes, and at their height the strikes achieved the support of 300,000 students. The structures of direct democracy built on campuses sustained the momentum behind the strikes, enabling students to meet, discuss and make decisions on a regular basis. Each month, the movement called a mass mobilisation, with tens of thousands of students gathering in the Place du Canada in Montreal. But there was also a heated debate over the strategy and goals of the movement. It wasn't enough to keep the momentum going. In addition to the strikes, radical students sought to disrupt the smooth functioning of the economy and the government, carrying out blockades and occupations of banks and government buildings.
But students also reached out to the labour movement. Theirs was a class issue, they insisted, and Classe called for a "social strike" of both students and workers. They consciously sought alliances with Rio Tinto workers locked out of their jobs, public sector workers facing cuts, campaigns against increased fees for healthcare, and local resistance to the government's attempts to turn over northern resources to the mining industry. Neighbourhood protests became a regular occurrence. A number of union federations passed motions for strike action, though as yet the resistance from union leaders is too strong, and the labour militants too weak, to make it happen.
Importantly, the student leadership refused to be divided. When the government excluded Classe from negotiations, in the hope of engaging the more moderate student federations in a compromise, the latter walked out.
The government's biggest mistake was passing Bill 78, imposing severe restrictions on the right of students to protest. Though supported by the Quebec Council of Employers, the bill was otherwise reviled. Rather than breaking the students, the repression produced a much wider movement. Up to half a million people marched in clear defiance of the law. Those returning home from law-breaking protests were greeted by families banging pots and pans in their support, from their windows and in the streets. Some of the country's largest trade unions joined in the protest. To get a sense of how improbable this is, compare it with our student protests beginning in November 2010, where the NUS and UCU leaderships organised timid demonstrations separate from the main protests.
The Liberals' defeat can be traced to that defiance. But the Parti Québécois, which has just won, is not an ally of the movement. The new government will probably seek to negotiate a smaller fees increase with the agreement of the less militant student bodies. At any rate, the movement has long been about more than fees. Classe intends to keep the pressure on, with new assemblies and protests, aiming to build the widest possible movement to challenge neoliberalism. British students should take the hint.
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