Wednesday, April 29, 2020

Jared Diamond: There’s a 49 Percent Chance the World As We Know It Will End by 2050

New York Magazine May 10, 2019 ·
https://medium.com/new-york-magazine/jared-diamond-theres-a-49-percent-chance-the-world-as-we-know-it-will-end-by-2050-7b131aad06d5

Photo: Alberto E. Rodriguez/WireImage


By David Wallace-Wells

Jared Diamond’s new book, Upheaval, addresses itself to a world very obviously in crisis, and tries to lift some lessons for what do about it from the distant past. In that way, it’s not so different from all the other books that have made the UCLA geographer a sort of don of “big think” history and a perennial favorite of people like Steven Pinker and Bill Gates.

Diamond’s life as a public intellectual began with his 1991 book The Third Chimpanzee, a work of evolutionary psychology, but really took off with Guns, Germs, and Steel, published in 1997, which offered a three-word explanation for the rise of the West to the status of global empire in the modern era — and, even published right at the “end of history,” got no little flak from critics who saw in it both geographic determinism and what they might today call a whiff of Western supremacy. In 2005, he published Collapse, a series of case studies about what made ancient civilizations fall into disarray in the face of environmental challenges — a doorstopper that has become a kind of touchstone work for understanding the crisis of climate change today. In The World Until Yesterday, published in 2012, he asked what we can learn from traditional societies; and in his new book, he asks what we can learn from ones more like our own that have faced upheaval but nevertheless endured.

I obviously want to talk about your new book, but I thought it might be useful to start by asking you how you saw it in the context of your life’s work.
Sure. Here’s my answer, and I think you’ll find it banal and more disappointing than what you might have hoped for. People often ask me what’s the relation between your books and the answer is there is none. Really, each book is what I was most interested in and felt most at hand when I finished my previous book.

Well, it may be a narrative that suggests itself to me because I’m thinking of Guns, Germs and Steel, Collapse, and this new one, Upheaval, but for me it’s interesting to note that each of them arrived when they did in a particular cultural, intellectual moment. That begins with Guns, Germs and Steel — it’s obviously a quite nuanced historical survey, but it was also read coming out when it did, as a kind of explanation for Western dominance of the planet …
I would say you’re giving me more credit than I deserve. But one-third of the credit that you give me I do deserve. And that’s for Collapse. Guns, Germs and Steel, I don’t see it as triumphalist at all.

No, I don’t either. I don’t mean to say that. But it met the moment of Western triumphalism in our culture, I think.
The fact is that you and I are speaking English. We’re not speaking Algonquin and there are reasons for that. I don’t see that as a triumph of the English language. I see it as the fact of how history turned out, and that’s what Guns, Germs and Steel is about.

If you don’t mind dwelling on Collapse for a second … Has your view of these issues changed at all over the intervening years? I mean, when you think about how societies have faced environmental challenges, how adaptable they are and how resilient they might be, do you find yourself having the same views that you had a decade and a half ago?
Yes. My views are the same because I think the story that I saw in 2005, it’s still true today. It still is the case that there are many past societies that destroyed themselves by environmental damage. Since I wrote the book, more cases have come out. There have been studies of the environmental collapse of Cahokia, outside St. Louis. Cahokia was the most populous Native American society in North America. And I when I wrote Collapse it wasn’t known why Cahokia had collapsed, but subsequently we’ve learned that there was a very good study about the role of climate changes and flooding on the Mississippi River in ruining Cahokia. So that book, yes, it was related to what was going on. But the story today, nothing has changed. Past societies have destroyed themselves. In the past 14 years it has not been undone that past societies destroyed themselves.

Today, the risk that we’re facing is not of societies collapsing one by one, but because of globalization, the risk we are facing is of the collapse of the whole world.

How likely do you think that is? That the whole network of civilization would collapse?
I would estimate the chances are about 49 percent that the world as we know it will collapse by about 2050. I’ll be dead by then but my kids will be, what? Sixty-three years old in 2050. So this is a subject of much practical interest to me. At the rate we’re going now, resources that are essential for complex societies are being managed unsustainably. Fisheries around the world, most fisheries are being managed unsustainably, and they’re getting depleted. Farms around the world, most farms are being managed unsustainably. Soil, topsoil around the world. Fresh water around the world is being managed unsustainably. With all these things, at the rate we’re going now, we can carry on with our present unsustainable use for a few decades, and by around 2050 we won’t be able to continue it any longer. Which means that by 2050 either we’ve figured out a sustainable course, or it’ll be too late.

So let’s talk about that sustainable course. What are the lessons in the new book that might help us adjust our course in that way?
As far as national crises are concerned, the first step is acknowledge — the country has to acknowledge that it’s in a crisis. If the country denies that it’s in a crisis, of course if you deny you’re in a crisis, you’re not going to solve the crisis, number one. In the United States today, lots of Americans don’t acknowledge that we’re in a crisis.

Number two, once you acknowledge that you’re in a crisis, you have to acknowledge that there’s something you can do about it. You have responsibility. If instead you say that the crisis is the fault of somebody else, then you’re not going to make any progress towards solving it. An example today are those, including our political leaders, who say that the problems of the United States are not caused by the United States, but they’re caused by China and Canada and Mexico. But if we say that our problems are caused by other countries, that implies that it’s not up to us to solve our problems. We’re not causing them. So, that’s an obvious second step.

On climate in particular, there seem to be a lot of countervailing impulses on the environmental left — from those who believe the only solution to addressing climate is through individual action to those who are really focused on the villainy of particular corporate interests, the bad behavior of the Republican Party, et cetera. In that context, what does it mean to accept responsibility?
My understanding is that, in contrast to five years ago, the majority of American citizens and voters recognize the reality of climate change. So there is, I’d say, recognition by the American public as a whole that there is quite a change in that we are responsible for it.

Right.
As for what we can do about it, whether to deal with it by individual action, or at a middle scale by corporate action, or at a top scale by government action — all three of those. Individually we can do things. We can buy different sorts of cars. We can do less driving. We can vote for public transport. That’s one thing. There are also corporate interests because I’m on the board of directors for the World Wildlife Fund and I was on the board of Conservation International, and on our boards are leaders of really big companies like Walmart and Coca-Cola are their heads, their CEOs, have been on our boards.

I see that corporations, big corporations, while some of them do horrible things, some of them also are doing wonderful things which don’t make the front page. When there was the Exxon Valdez spill off Alaska, you can bet that made the front page. When Chevron was managing its oil field in Papua New Guinea in a utterly rigorous way, better than any national park I’ve ever been in, that certainly did not make the front page because it wasn’t a good picture.

And then finally the Republican Party, yes. Government has a role. In short, climate change can be addressed at all these levels. Individual, corporation, and the national level.

In the book, when you write about the present day — you talk about climate, you talk about resources, but you also talk about the threat of nuclear war and nuclear weapons. It may be kind of a foolish question to ask, but … how do you rank those threats?
I’m repressing a chuckle because I know how people react when I answer that. Whenever somebody tells me, “How should we prioritize our efforts?” My answer is, “We should not be prioritizing our efforts.” It’s like someone asking me, “Jared, I’m about to get married. What is the most important factor for a happy marriage?” And my response is, “If you’re asking me what is the most important factor for a happy marriage, I’d predict that you’re going to get divorced within a few years.” Because in order to have a happy marriage you’ve got to get 37 things right. And if you get 36 right but you don’t get sex right, or you don’t get money right, or you don’t get your in-laws right, you will get divorced. You got to get lots of things right.

So for the state of the world today, how do we prioritize what’s going on in the world? We have to avoid a nuclear holocaust. If we have a nuclear holocaust, we’re finished, even if we solve climate change. We have to solve climate change because if we don’t solve climate change but we deal with a nuclear holocaust, we’re finished. If we solve climate change and don’t have a nuclear holocaust but we continue with unsustainable resource use, we’re finished. And if we deal with the nuclear problem and climate change and sustainable use, but we maintain or increase inequality around the world, we’re finished. So, we can’t prioritize. Just as a couple in a marriage have to agree about sex and children and in-laws and money and religion and politics. We got to solve all four of those problems.

What should we do? Are there lessons from history?
To conduct a happy marriage, it’s not enough to sit back and have a whole listed view of a happy marriage. Instead you need to discuss your budget and your in-laws and 36 other things. As far as the world is concerned, solving national crises, the checklist that I came up with in my book is a checklist of a dozen factors. Now, I could make a longer checklist, or I could make a shorter checklist, but if we have a checklist of three factors it would be obvious we’re missing some big things. And if we had a checklist of 72 factors, then nobody would pick up my book and they wouldn’t pay attention to it.

As an example of one of those factors that the United States is really messing up now, it’s the factor of using other countries as models for solving problems. Just as with personal crises, when someone’s marriage breaks down or is at risk of breaking down, one way of dealing with it is to look at other people who have happy marriages and learn from their model of how to conduct a happy marriage. But the United States today believes what’s called American exceptionalism. That phrase, American exceptionalism means the belief that the United States is unique, exceptional, therefore there’s nothing we can learn from other countries. But we’ve got this neighbor, Canada, which is a democracy sharing our continent and there are other democracies throughout Western Europe in Australia and Japan. All of these democracies face problems that we are not doing well with. All of these democracies have problems with their national health system. And they have problems with education. And they have problems with prisons. And they have problems with balancing individual interests with community interests. But the United States, we too have prisons and we’ve got education and we have a national health system, and we are dissatisfied. Most Americans are dissatisfied with our national health system, and most Americans are increasingly dissatisfied with our educational system.

Other countries face these same problems and other countries do reasonably well, better than the United States in solving these problems. So, one thing that we can learn is to look at other countries as models and disabuse ourselves of the idea that the United States is exceptional and so there’s nothing we can learn from any other country, which is nonsense.

Do you think of this as being a sort of book about the path forward for the U.S.? Or do you think of it as having a broader, global audience?
It is a book about the U.S. plus 215 other countries. The United States is one country in the world, and we’ve got our own problems, which we are struggling with. I came back from Italy and Britain. Britain when I was there was at the peak of Brexit, but Britain is still at the peak of Brexit.

They’re not leaving that behind.
They’re making, I would say, zero progress with Brexit. Italy has its own big problems. Papua New Guinea has its own problems. I’m trying to think what country does not have problems …

It’s hard.
Norway is doing pretty well. What else?

Portugal maybe is doing relatively well.
Which one is that?

Portugal, maybe.
Portugal, maybe. Costa Rica, all things considered. Well, Costa Rica has problems because I think all four of Costa Rica’s last four presidents are in jail at the moment. That’s a significant problem.

If there’s hardly a nation in the world that seems to be a good model, a thriving example for other nations of the world to follow behind, how much faith does that give you that we can find our way to a kind of sustainable, prosperous, and fulfilling future?
That’s an interesting question. If I had stopped the book on the chapter about the world without writing the last six pages, it would have been a pessimistic chapter, because at that point I thought the world does not have a track record of solving difficult problems. The U.N., well bless it, but the U.N. isn’t sufficiently powerful, and therefore I feel pessimistic about our chances of solving big world problems.

But then, fortunately, I learned by talking with friends that the world does have a successful track record in the last 40 years about solving really complex, thorny problems. For example, the coastal economics. So many countries have overlapping coastal economic zones. What a horrible challenge that was to get all the countries in the world to agree with delineating their coastal economic zones. But it worked. They’re delineated.

Or smallpox. To eliminate smallpox it had to be eliminated in every country. That included eliminating it in Ethiopia and Somalia. Boy, was it difficult to eliminate smallpox in Somalia, but it was eliminated.

I wonder if I could ask you about California in particular. It’s interesting to me in the sense that when I look at the example of California, I see a lot of reasons for hope in the sense that there’s quite focused attention on climate and resources used there — probably more sustained interested in those subjects than there really is anywhere else in the U.S. And it has policy that’s, by any metric, I think more progressive than the relevant policies elsewhere in the U.S.

And yet, it’s also a state that — maybe it’s an unfortunate phrase — by accident of geography is also facing some of the most intense pressures and dealing with the most intense impacts already, from water issues to wildfire and all the rest of it. As a Californian who’s informed by these concerns looking at the future and thinking about the future, how does the future of California look to you?
California has problems like every other place in the world. But California makes me optimistic. It does have the environmental problems but nevertheless we have, I would say, one of the best state governments, if not the best state government in the United States. And relatively educated citizens. And we have the best system of public education, of public higher education in the United States. Although, I, at the University of California, know very well that we are screaming at the legislature for more money. So we have problems but we’re giving me hope at how we’re dealing with those problems.

I’m a native New Yorker and lived my whole life in this environment on the East Coast. And when I see images of those wildfires and when I hear stories of people I know or people I meet, and the fact that they’ve evacuated, the fact that no matter where you are in Southern California, also in parts of Central California and Northern California, you have an evacuation plan in mind. I just don’t understand how you guys can live like that. It must begin to impose some kind of psychic cost.
Well, I understand psychic costs and I understand getting my head around it because I was born and grew up in Boston. The last straw for me was that in Boston I sang in the Handel and Haydn Society chorus, and we were going to perform in Boston Symphony Hall the last week in May and our concert was canceled by a snowstorm that closed Boston down. And for me that was the last straw. I do not want to live in a city where a concert in Symphony Hall is going to get closed down in the last week of May by a snowstorm.

That’s just one event, but the fact is that Boston is and was miserable for five months of the year in the winter and then it’s nice for two weeks in the spring and then it’s miserable for four months in the summer, then it’s nice for a few weeks in the fall. Similarly with New York. So when I moved here, my reaction is, “Yes, we have the fires and we have the earthquakes and we have the mudslide and we have the risk of flooding. But, thank God for all those things because they saved me from the psychic costs of living in the Northeast.”
Donald Trump, American Idiot
How Ignorance, Rage, and Fear Became the Ruling Principles of American Life
umair haque
Follow
Apr 24 ·2020
https://eand.co/donald-trump-american-idiot-1571f3606ea4



“Hey, Umair. Did you inject yourself with Lysol yet?”

Ben, the London copper, shouted from across the dog park.

I looked up, confused.

Massimo, the Italian doctor, grinned, and cried: “Maybe he drank it already!”

“Wait, what?” It was too early for this. I’d just woken up. Snowy looked up at me, smiling, too. I grumbled, irritated.

And then they told me, shaking with laughter, unable to contain themselves. My jaw dropped, and I laughed, too.

You’ve heard, by now, I’m sure, the statement that most of the world greeted with shock and hilarity. Donald Trump suggested…to fight a deadly pandemic…people should…drink disinfectant…or maybe inject it. LOL, what?

That of course led to numerous manufacturers of disinfectant urgently telling people, no, please, please, don’t drink it, and certainly don’t inject it.

There’s a comedy of errors, and then there’s what you might call the slapstick comedy of idiots. Donald Trump, my friends, exemplifies a certain kind of person, renowned the world over: the American idiot.

Immortalized in a song by a SoCal punk band, the American idiot is a figure everyone knows — and Americans, too often, don’t want to admit exists. When I say everyone, I mean everyone. Everyone in my dog park, everyone in the world.

Consider, for a moment, the actions of the American President since the beginning of the pandemic.

— Denying there was one

— Passing an inadequate stimulus bill

— Obstructing any kind of national strategy

— Encouraging “lockdown liberation” protesters

— Cutting funding for the WHO

— And finally, telling people to…drink Lysol

That, my friends, will be remembered as one of the textbook examples of what it means to be an American idiot.

So what does it mean, really? This morning at the dog park, I got ribbed by Massimo and Ben for the above. Yesterday, when I was at the dog park, I got asked, puzzled, by Wolfgang, the funny and gentle German, if it was really true: did Americans carry guns to Starbucks? I looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights of an approaching freight train. Then I nodded and shrugged. “But why?!” he asked, astonished.

He had a point. The point is made to me every single day now, in baffled conservations, in bewildered questions, in shocked and stunned observations: what the hell is wrong with Americans? Are they really this crazy? They can’t be. But they keep on…so are they? What the?

The world, you see, looks at America, and sees something very different than Americans do. It doesn’t just see a lunatic demagogue telling people to drink Lysol after cutting funding for the WHO. It sees a nation of people quicker to carry a gun than read a book, who’ll happily deny their neighbor’s kids healthcare but go to church every Sunday, who predictably, consistently vote against any improvement to their standards of living…which by now have reached standards that people in most of the rest of the world literally don’t believe, and neither do Americans.

If I tell you, for example, the simple fact that a 15 year old boy in Bangladesh now has a higher chance of making it to old age than an America, would you believe me? And yet…it’s true.

American life is made up of a series of abuses and exploitations and degradations that shock the rest of the world — all of it, not just some of it. You’re a kid, and you go to school, where armed, masked men burst in, and fire fake bullets at you — “active shooter drills.” Maybe you go into “lunch debt.” When it’s time to go off to college — good luck, it’s going to cost as much as a home. Therefore, you can forget about every really owning much, because you’re trying to pay off a series of mounting debts your whole life long. By middle age, like most Americans, you’re simply unable to make ends meet — who can, when going to the hospital can cost more than a mansion? Therefore, forget retirement — it’s something that vanished long ago. Maybe you’re working at Walmart in your old age, maybe you’re driving an Uber — but you’re still where you always were, being exploited and abused for pennies, to make the ultra rich richer.

Nobody — and I mean nobody — in the rest of the world thinks this is sane, normal, or desirable. Nobody. It’s so far right that even the hardest of European right eschews such a social model. The left, of course, points out how badly capitalism has failed — and it’s right. America is off the charts — a society so far into collapse that it can’t see normality at all anymore. It doesn’t even appear to vaguely remember that it’s not OK for everyone, more or less, to be exploited their whole lives long.

That brings me back to the American idiot. I don’t say the above to write a jeremiad, but to explain the American idiot to Americans, which is a job that I think sorely needs doing. Not for any lack of trying, perhaps — but certainly for a lack of success.

“The American idiot” isn’t an insult. It’s a term with a precise and specific meaning. The Greeks called those only interested in private life “idiots” — that is what the term really means. So it is for Americans.

What unites those “lockdown liberation” protesters, Jeff Bezos, Elon Musk, McKinsey and Co running concentration camps, and Faux News? They are all in it for private gain. There is no sense of a common wealth or of a public interest or a shared good whatsoever. In fact, even that’s an understatement.

This way of thinking stems from Ayn Rand, who was an acolyte of Nietzsche’s harder, later more embittered thinking, and to it, the idea of any kind of common good is itself a lie. To even imagine a common good or public interest is to do damage. To what? To the Uberman. To the Zarathustra. To the “master morality”, which must dominate the “slave morality”, is the world is to be fair.

Do you see the sleight of hand there? In that little philosophical parlour trick, every virtue has been perverted. Selfishness has become generosity. Cruelty, compassion. Brutality, kindness. Vanity, humility. Good has become bad when we imagine that to conceive of any interest larger than our own narrow material gain is itself foul and harmful — because what good can we really then do in the world? Instead, we pervert ourselves, and believe the foolish lie that only our own narrow enrichment matters, only our own existence counts, and only our own “opinion” is truth. That leaves us with a very big problem.

If I believe that any form of collective action, public interest, or common good is inherently bad — then all the following things become flatly impossible. Morality. Ethics. Society. Decency. Modernity. Civilization itself.

That’s because civilization and modernity are made of public goods. Think of Europe — and you imagine grand public squares, broad avenues, wide open parks, art on the streets. All these public goods are the essence of modernity — as is the expansive healthcare, retirement, education, and so forth, of European social contracts. These are the things which civilize us, and keep us civilized. I bump into you in the town square, and we chat. How has the day gone? I see you. You are not just my rival in a capitalist contest. We are equals for a moment on this ground. Just like I am at the dog park, with the grizzled London copper, the Italian doctor, the German accountant. But where does that happen in American society? That levelling? That equality? That freedom from capital and role and status? Nowhere.

The end result is that, as much of the world says now, America’s a society which never became civilized. That might sound unkind if you’re American, but how else, really, is one to speak of a place where kids are made to pretend to die at school, where going to the doctor can bankrupt you, and whose leader tells you to…drink Lysol?

The American idiot, then, is a certain kind of person, who believes in a certain kind of quasi-philosophy. I say “quasi” because of course it doesn’t make sense when you actually think about it, but the whole point of this game is not to think very hard. That quasi-philosophy is just the above: greed is good, brutality is better, cruelty is excellent. I am in a contest to dominate and subjugate everyone else. Sure, I must play by the legal rules, perhaps — but the point is to exploit before I’m exploited, to prey on before I’m preyed on.

Maybe that’s not you, but it’s certainly vast swathes of America. It’s Ivy League kids swooning over Wall St jobs — where they’ll never do a damned thing useful with their lives. It’s Red States jeering at Blue States — while, ironically, living off the public purse. It’s HMOs and stock markets. It’s Jeff Bezos and every aspiring Silicon Valley magnate. It’s elites inside the Beltway, cackling as the country falls apart.

So far as I can see, nobody — and I mean nobody — in American public life challenges the way of thinking above. Even calls it out for what it is. Instead, Americans play a strange game. They pretend. They pretend that their society hasn’t become a predatory machine run by sociopaths, that exploitation is the force which rules life, that it’s gone to the absurd degree of “active shooter drills” and Presidents putting kids in camps run by giant corporations. They sanitize all that, whitewash it, pretend it away, with Hallmark stories of white picket fences and romances in small towns that somehow never had a post-industrial implosion into drugs, gangs, crime, and chaos.

That’s a deeper kind of American idiot. The first kind actively, loudly espouses a kind of aggressive, hostile individualism — “lockdown protesters.” They make a lot of noise, but the truth is they’re a small fringe. It’s the second kind of American idiot who’s truly dangerous. And that’s the well-meaning person who’s busy desperately pretending that everything’s OK. That a country in a situation this dire doesn’t need to ask fundamental questions about its values and beliefs, about what the hell went wrong to end up like this.

That second kind of American idiot is the dangerous one because the power to change lies in their hands. The first kind — the Trumpist — is a lost cause. They’re so mentally broken, regressed to an infantile state where they need a Daddy to protect them, that it’d take years of therapy to even begin to approach reality with anything but violence and tantrums. But the second kind isn’t mentally broken yet. In my estimation — and this is going to hurt — they’re either cowards, or fools.

Think of a Chris Hayes or an Ezra Klein or someone of that ilk. They’re good guys, sure. But they’re also American idiots. They’ve never used the word fascism once to describe kids in cages in camps and raids and purges. The word authoritarianism is something they might have begun to use recently. They’ve never taught you the last living Nuremberg Prosecutor called Trump’s actions crimes against humanity…years ago. Never taught you that the entire rest of the world more or less wanted to be a social democracy, and America bombed about a quarter of it, and then installed dictators in countries it couldn’t bomb. Never taught you that American economics is about 99% bullshit, and 1% horseshit — how’s that Coronavirus Depression working out?

The result is that even the good and smart among Americans tend to be mostly idiots, too. Again, I don’t mean that as an insult — I mean that they tend to think in ways that are not just profoundly ignorant and empirically obviously false, but are ignorant because they’re selfish, self-absorbed, self-concerned, narcissistic. What really trickles down in America is the idea that individualism, cruelty, brutality, and aggression will fix everything — all we have to do is slap prettier labels on them, whether “gender pronouns” or “corporate wellness programs.” The way of thinking, though, remains precisely the same: an overweening concern with the private over the public.

The Chrises and Ezras stopped teaching Americans anything actually true or resonant in a larger global or social sense long ago because they’ve been raised so much on myths of exceptionalism that they can’t bring themselves to look reality square in the eye, and say: “Man. Were we ever wrong. Let’s fix this.” They’d rather go on believing the myth — it’s more comfortable, a narcotic in a time of distress. The net result, though, is that they end up acting just like…idiiots…in that classical sense all over again: only interested in their private gains.

There’s a question all my European friends ask me, incredulously — which I put to my American friends. “How on earth did Americans — even the so-called sane ones, the Dems — vote against better healthcare in the middle of a literal global pandemic?” It’s a fair question.

Do you know what my Americans friends respond with? Sorry, guys. They give me the look. Do you know the look? It’s the look a fratboy gives you when you ask him what the last book he read was. It’s the look an Instagram influencer gives you when you ask them if they might really be deeply unhappy inside. The look a Wall St analyst gives you when you ask them why they don’t do something that matters with their life. The one that Donald Trump gives anyone who asks him a real question, for just a moment, before he erupts in wet, florid rage.

The look. The face muscles go slack. The eyes go blank. The mouth purses. The brow knits and furrows. The jaw sets tight. The arms fold. Students of body language know exactly what the look means. It’s a mind going into furious denial and repression. The pursed lips repress the rage that’s been sparked. The furrowed brow signals furious thought. The blank eyes say here is a person who’s not really here at all right now. The slack face says this person has nothing but contempt for you in this moment.

The look.

Whenever you try to talk to Americans — seriously — about their collapsing society, they give you the look. Even the good ones — maybe especially the good ones. They don’t want the question asked. They think you a fool for raising it. They can’t believe you’ve just said it. They don’t want to hear it. They want to annihilate you where you stand. The look doesn’t lie.

The look is the sign of the American idiot.

I’m sorry if that sounds harsh. But someone has to be a little bit ruthlessly honest with Americans right about now.

It’s true that Donald Trump is the ultimate example of the American idiot. But it’s also true that the American idiot isn’t just Donald Trump. It’s truest of all, perhaps, that it takes a society of idiots to be led by a Donald Trump, at all.

Umair
April 2020

Restoring the Economy Is the Last Thing We Should Want

The sooner we open up the economy, the faster we simply recreate what got us into this mess. It’s time for a radical shift.

Image: Anton Petrus/Getty Images
Everyone wants to know when we’re going to get the economy started up again, and just how many lives we’re willing to surrender before we do. We’ve all been made to understand the dilemma: The sooner we “open up” American and get back to our jobs, the more likely we spread Covid-19, further overwhelming hospitals and killing more people. Yet the longer we wait, the more people will suffer and die in other ways.
I think this is a false choice. Yes, it may be true that every 1% rise in unemployment leads to a corresponding 1% rise in suicides. And it’s true that an extended freeze of the economy could shorten the lifespan of 6.4 million Americans entering the job market by an average of about two years. But such metrics say less about the human cost of the downturn than they do about the dangerously absolute dependence of workers on traditional employment for basic sustenance — an artifact of an economy that has been intentionally rigged to favor big banks and passive shareholders over small and local businesses that actually provide goods and services in a sustainable way.
In reality, the sooner and more completely we restore the old economy, the faster we simply recreate the conditions that got us sick in the first place and rendered us incapable of mounting an effective response. The economy we’re committed to restoring is no more the victim of the Covid-19 crisis than it is the cause. We have to stop asking when will things get back to normal. They won’t. There is no going back. And that’s actually good news.
If we approach this moment of pause mindfully, the post-Covid economy we create could turn out to be a whole lot more resilient than the old one. Beyond exposing the brittle nature of global supply chains, top-down monetary policy, and a vanquished domestic manufacturing sector, the Covid crisis is also unleashing a powerful drive by local and networked communities to rebuild business from the bottom-up. The mechanisms so many of us are now inventing and retrieving under duress may just survive after this crisis is over, and augur a new era of sustainable commerce and much better distributed prosperity. Think local farms, worker-owned factories, and companies for whom the bottom line has more to do with selling products than selling shares of its stock. Their value created by such enterprises isn’t sucked up and out of communities (the way Amazon or mall stores do), but circulates again and again from one person or business to another.
The economy we’re committed to restoring is no more the victim of the Covid-19 crisis than it is the cause.
We can learn a lot from the relative success of today’s many efforts at economic recovery. What’s not working are traditional, top-down approaches to repair. “Ultimately the Fed doesn’t have the infrastructure to touch Main Street,” Vincent Reinhart, chief economist at Mellon, told Axios. The Fed can encourage banks to lend, but banks won’t take the capital unless they see a return. Meanwhile, small businesses can apply for grants and loans through the web, but many will have laid off their workforce or gone under themselves before such funding shows up. If it ever does.
Besides, that’s what Obama tried after the recession of 2007: forcing banks to take money so they can lend it to corporations, who then use it to build businesses and create jobs — jobs people don’t really enjoy, making crap that the rest of us have to be convinced by advertisers to buy. Such “solutions” are really just ways of restoring the original problem. They shore up the lending industries and the dominance of the corporate sector over small businesses. It’s not the way Joe’s Pizzeria is saved; it’s the way Joe ends up working for a branch of Domino’s, for less money with less security.
What’s working, instead, are a myriad of more lateral mechanisms for mutual aid and the exchange of value between people and real businesses — ones that may work so well, in fact, that they may just last beyond this crisis to define a new economic landscape. Throughout the U.S., medical supplies are being listed and dispersed through Google Docs and spreadsheets under the rules of the commons rather than those of the marketplace. In Taiwan, crude but functional public service platforms are being developed by hackers sharing information with one another and working in partnership with the government.
The innovations we’re seeing emerge are digital in spirit, but local in their execution. The temporary paralysis of globally scaled financial and business institutions is creating the need and room for alternatives to just-in-time global supply chains and centralized, debt-based monetary monopoly. The longer the crisis continues, the more experience, success, and faith people will gain in the possibility of the more locally balanced, bottom-up economics
Instead of figuring out how to extract money from the marketplace, which only increases its fragility, we must explore business practices that circulate money throughout the system. This was the original, distributive promise of a digital economy — and one we must embrace if we want to restore our collective economic immune response before the next shock to our system, whatever it may be.
As Adam Smith explained back in the 18th Century, when big corporations dominate an economic landscape, value ends up extracted from real people and places and delivered to shareholders, often very far away. Self-sufficiency becomes impossible. Instead, according to Smith, a healthy economy respects all three factors of production equally: land, labor, and capital. The people working in the businesses and the places where those businesses operate are respected as stakeholders in the enterprise. When no one speaks for the land, the topsoil gets depleted. When the workers have no vote, they are the first to be let go when the going gets rough.
As the stock market hits its nadir, the temptation for investors will be to buy stock again and double down on the winner-take-all climate of the pre-Covid landscape. Instead of buying stocks — however temptingly depressed the prices — they need to invest as partners in smaller, local enterprises that offer continuing, regenerative returns. These alternative business models are proving themselves more resilient in good times and bad. From neighborhood barter and local and crypto currencies to distributed open source apps and the doughnut economic model now being implemented in Amsterdam, these are business practices that optimize not for the extraction of capital but for the velocity of money — like the circulation of blood through an organism. They will never have IPOs, but that’s because such businesses are not built to be sold; they’re built to serve their stakeholders in an ongoing way. These are the sorts of businesses we need to support, any way we can.

What, specifically, can we do to engender an economic environment that makes Main Street more prosperous instead of simply resurrecting the Dow Jones Industrial Average by any means necessary? Sure, it would help if anyone in government could see past their fealty to their corporate donors to help — or at least not to actively block any such efforts. The best thing they could actually do straightaway is reverse the tax code. We currently reward capital gains with low taxes, and punish earnings and dividends with much higher rates. This not only advantages passive shareholders over people actually creating value, but it incentivizes businesses to grow at all costs. The resulting addiction to growth isn’t the solution to economic resilience, as its proponents argue, but the very cause of our frailty.
Still, we can’t depend on government to implement any of such reforms from the top-down, anyway. The refusal of the administration to step up and take charge in the face of this crisis can serve as an inadvertent “tough love” lesson to states and local communities that we’re on our own — and better start finding solutions and building prosperity from the bottom up. Most of the legislative help comes from local politicians, anyway, like New York Assemblyman Ron KimMayor John Reed of Fairfax, California, or New York City Council member Brad Lander. The best they can do for us, however, is stall regulations designed to favor extractive would-be monopolies like Uber, Airbnb, General Foods, Amazon, or Walmart over locally run, small and family enterprises — while also educating their constituents how to create networks of small businesses that support one another through credit unions, barter exchanges, and even local currencies.
We, the people, may struggle ourselves, but we’re in it together. The mantra for a post-Covid economy must be “make everyone rich.” The scorched earth practices of a Walmart, Amazon, or Uber, succeed only in squeezing their employees, suppliers, and partners dry. Everyone becomes one paycheck or purchase order away from bankruptcy — which renders the whole system brittle. Instead of pushing everyone into a corner and forcing them to take an unprofitable deal (that’s Trump’s The Art of the Deal, in a nutshell), companies should try to make everyone in their marketplace as prosperous as possible. It may seem counterintuitive, but the more wealth there is in a business’s ecosystem, the better that business does, more sustainably — and the more other businesses want to work with it.
Instead of competing with local suppliers, the biggest retailers should partner with them. Walmart can create an entire aisle in every store for locally produced goods. The sales of such products would recirculate at least some revenue through these devastated communities, rather than simply sucking it all up and away. Amazon could do the equivalent with an algorithm. And neither Walmart nor Amazon need to feel so terrible about helping these smaller, local businesses make a profit. Their owners and employees will simply have more money to spend with them, too.
The mantra for a post-Covid economy must be “make everyone rich.”
For their part, small businesses devastated by Covid-19 and looking for ways to dig out from debt or bankruptcy need to consider alternatives to crippling bank loans. They can move instead toward any one of the new models of employee ownership, from Employee Stock Ownership Plans to full Platform Cooperatives. During the last financial crisis, workers of New Era Windows occupied their factory which was being shuttered by the parent company. In a spontaneous act of solidarity, Chicago police refused to arrest them. Eventually, the workers purchased the company — some through sweat equity — and now run it as a co-op. Needless to say, when workers own their company, they are less likely to ruin the communities in which they operate, because they live there. They’re also less likely to consider themselves expendable when the next crisis hits.
The only ones who initially do worse in such an economy are the banks. As money circulates more freely throughout a community, less new capital is needed to keep things going. Since businesses are no longer required to grow in order to survive, they can focus instead on honing their operations, better serving their communities, and using any efficiencies to generate more wealth for everyone. Such businesses won’t be borrowing as much money, which means banks may earn less interest. But that’s not a bad thing, either. Interest is an expense — a form of drag on real business activity. We don’t want our cars to use more fuel than necessary, either.
The main principle at play here is what I’ve come to call “bounded economics.” Instead of optimizing our economy and businesses for growth and the extraction of capital, we optimize them for the velocity of money and the circulation of value. In other words, instead of earning $10 once and taking it off the table, we seek to earn one dollar, 10 times. My favorite example of this practice is when the AFL-CIO came up with the great idea of investing their retirement fund in real estate development deals that hired their own union’s construction workers. They made back their own money as salary, while also earning investments in the projects. Eventually, they got the bright idea to invest in the building of retirement communities for their own parents. Triple play.
That’s the way an economy is supposed to work. Just like the circulatory system of a living being, the money needs to be kept moving. Widespread prosperity is not a form of charity or welfare, but the surest sign of a thriving, resilient economy. Unfortunately, the economy so many seem desperate to return to is based on the opposite principles. Yet that dream of infinite, exponential growth ends only in apocalypse or escape to Mars. The wealthiest among us are preparing for both.
The restoration of local, bottom-up production and commerce based in mutual prosperity is also a chance for Trump and Bernie supporters to realize they’re on the same side. Freed of top-down political ideologies and frameworks, we can get down to the actual work of growing food, patching roofs, healing wounds, and teaching arithmetic. Local resilience need not be left or right.
It’s just a way to return to health.

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What matters now. A Medium publication about politics, power, and culture.

WRITTEN BY

Author of Team Human, Present Shock, Throwing Rocks at the Google Bus, Program or Be Programmed, and host of the Team Human podcast http://medium.com/team-human

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What matters now. A Medium publication about politics, power, and culture.