Haiti Needs Your Help

I've got strong feelings for Haiti:

History of anti-imperialist; anti-slavery struggle.

French-speaking.

Totally screwed by Cold War politics and a history of American interventionism.

Home-base, of sorts, for my hero - Paul Farmer - and his organization, PIH.

I've wanted Haiti to win (peace, security, justice), and unfortunately, it's a real under-dog struggle.

And now this.

I'm asking you to do what you can, in solidarity with humanity, for the people of Haiti in this time of crisis. I'm sending an extra donation to support PIH's efforts there. Here's a link if you want to join me.

Otherwise, please find an organization you can support and pass the word.

Again with the State

Michael Walzer's got me all sorts of messed up, mentally. His latest missive from the pages of Dissent is essentially a paean to the state. His main point is that it is the (leftist) state that protects people. That stateless societies are societies where people are victimized. I've got a critique, but first I want to pause and acknowledge that he's got some seriously strong points here.

"The only political agency that can “take care of things,” that can provide security, welfare, and education, is the state. The least well-off people in the world today, the most desperately needy people, are those who live in failed or failing states, who are the prey of warlords, predatory gangs, ruthless entrepreneurs and speculators—all of them uncontrolled by any political authority. So those of us who have effective and decent states ought to be patriots, at least in this sense: that we should be committed to the common political work of sustaining and improving the states that we live in."

This strikes me as being a rock-solid argument; I don't think you could pay me enough to live for a week in Mogadishu or Baghdad, for instance. But there is a price to pay for the benefits of security offered by the state, and not everybody pays the same price. For some, I would argue, the price to pay may be higher than the benefit earned. And for others, the price is much lower, perhaps negligible. Furthermore, I tend to think of the state as being organized power. People who live in "failed" states are victimized by disorganized power. But it is possible to be victimized by organized power as well (I'm thinking of the Darfuri's). I think Walzer is correct in positing that stability brings security, but the bigger problem ultimately is power itself - not whether it is organized or disorganized.

But it comes back to my position on the state: I've come to reject the idea of the state, at least theoretically, as ideal. That I would prefer it not to exist. But to the extent that it does exist, I agree with Walzer. And especially agree with the idea that it ought to be guided by a generally leftist agenda - one where the state intercedes to protect the vulnerable, but otherwise leaves people alone.

Coincidently enough, looking for the electronic version of Walzer's essay, I found this article on the Dissent site. It makes an argument for US involvement in Afghanistan that I tried and failed to make when discussing the war with leftist friends that believe that all war is wrong. I had the idea, but couldn't articulate it as well as this:

"The best argument is that we have an obligation to the Afghan people – especially to the feminists, secular teachers, labor organizers, health workers, democrats, all those working to build a secular, civil society. We encouraged them to help create a real alternative to religious fundamentalism. It would be wrong now to abandon them to the Taliban."

I also sympathize with the idea that war/violence is wrong, but this is one war that I think we got into for the right reasons (9/11) and that we must continue.

Finally, fellow blogger posted this thought-provoking piece the other day. I thought the comments people left described my thinking exactly. In elementary school one of my friends got indignant at being called black - "Do I look black to you? What color is this? (pointing to his arm) Does this look black to you? No, it doesn't. 'cause it's brown." Or at least, that's how I remember it.

On the other hand, I'm also a fan of the Black is Beautiful school of thought. To what extent is rejecting black terminology really just an exercise in self-hatred? I suppose this is rather impertinent coming from a white guy, but for a number of reasons I don't have time to go into here, I steeped myself in Black Panther literature, propaganda, dreams of fighting at the top of the barricades, in my youth, and it's stuck with me.

Life Changes and Human Nature

I have believed for the last several years that people, in their nature do not change. This can be frustrating for those who want to help, or otherwise change the people around them - particularly the people they love. I have believed that we need to accept the ones that we love for who they are, trying to change them is an exercise in frustration and disappointment, and ultimately anger. And this includes ourselves - we are who we are and we can't really change that. It's why habits are so hard to break - habits are part of, or at least indicative of, our nature and character as human beings. We might want to be different, but we can't ultimately change ourselves. For instance, I wish I was a true leader - that I could be decisive. But that's not in my character - what I also perceive as a strength: a tendency to analyze, give all ideas a hearing, to seek understanding - all these get in the way of my ability to make decisions, particularly about how to handle things in the moment - but I'm a great Monday morning quarterback - or would be if I followed football more closely.

Anyway, a liar will always be a liar. The true will be true. A cheater will cheat. The lazy will be lazy and the disorganized will be disorganized. But while I still think this is true, it ignores the fact that people do change.

I think I've finally figured out how to reconcile these contradictory ideas. My thesis is people are creatures of habit - it is human nature. And what it takes is life crisis to really change. The heart-attack that finally convinces somebody to eat better. The lung cancer that convinces someone to quit smoking. The marriage that ends and convinces the alcoholic to quit drinking. I'll also postulate that the change in character isn't always so positive - the lost job can create an impetus to strike out on one's own and become an entrepreneur, or it can lead to one sinking into addiction. But we need a crisis to create change in our lives. I suppose perhaps all the "pointless" struggle until the crisis comes is not so pointless - perhaps it just lays the groundwork so that the crisis can provoke the kind of change that one desires.

Happy New Year

I suppose it is time for some sort of recap/musing/reflection on the past year, decade, millenium . . . but given that I'm a rebel/anarcho-communist/independent-minded/free-spirit, I think I'll save the reflection for tomorrow and instead speak on a book I'm reading that brings up ideas about democracy, race and history. Of course. I don't expect that you, fearless reader, would expect anything less.

The book I refer to is called Rough Crossings: Britain, the Slaves and the American Revolution, written by Simon Schama. I'm not quite done yet, but my impression - at least from what I remember about why I put it on my Xmas wishlist to Santa - was that it was supposed to be about the African-American perspective of the Revolution. Certainly, the introductory chapter, which introduces an ex-slave named British Freedom, who liberated himself and ended up farming in Nova Scotia, supported this theme of the book. But, 200 pages into it, while some of the chapters have concerned African-Americans, mostly the book has been about white British folks - early abolitionists, in particular a man by the name of Granville Sharp.

I suppose there are a number of reasons for this - one being that the available documents and secondary source literature are probably mostly white focused, if for no other reason than that many of the black people in the accounts were illiterate. Well, that and the history of racism that pervaded the culture. The problem, I feel, is that Scharma seems to be following in the same historical legacy. His sources seem to have overly dictated his account.

The most recent example in the book is where he attempts a critique of the historiography of the ill-fated plan to settle Sierra Leone with the free blacks of London. According to Scharma, recent historians have critiqued the colonial project as racist; Scharma would like to appraise the scheme as merely idealistically misguided. The visionaries of the project really had the best interests of the blacks at heart.

I think that probably both sides of the debate are right to at least some extent - the "visionaries" did want what was best, but on the other hand, social phenomena such as racism play out in ways that as individuals we don't always understand or appreciate. The most telling to me is that the organizers seemed to have selected Sierra Leone because "naturally" black folk would do better in a warm, tropical climate, rather than somewhere like Canada. This racial essentialism belies a social understanding that trapped the organizers in particular thought patterns. So, no matter how much they "wanted to help", their actions were always constrained by the racist box in which their thinking developed.

So, when Scharma (a white guy, incidentally, or maybe not so incidentally) defends his heroes (in particular, Granville Sharp) from accusations of racism, he is misguided. Sharp may have been a hero - even or especially to blacks, given his time and place, but that doesn't absolve him from being racist.

On the other hand, I think Scharma makes strong enough of an argument that Sharp's beliefs and actions (and others in the project) can't be dismissed out of hand. Afterall, we must allow agency on behalf of the colonists themselves - did they have the wool pulled over their eyes, or did they make an informed decision to join the project, despite its limitations? We don't have to idealize Sharp, but neither do we have to demonize him. Our choice, in either direction, tells us more about ourselves than about who Sharp really was, in the end.

So, was Sharp racist - I think we can't deny it, despite Scharma's protestations and attempts to rescue him. On the other hand, I don't think that saying that somebody is racist necessarily is a definitive judgement. It is an aspect or facet of Sharp's character, but not the sole defining aspect - standing in judgement of him, history must acknowledge his short-comings, his inability to transcend his social norms. But, his story is also valuable, and he can be admired for where he did stand against the tide - he was, after all, one of the first English people to stand up against slavery. Sort of like Thomas Jefferson, who can be acknowledged by history for his stand for democracy and justice, should also be condemned for his support for slavery.

In fact, one of the valuable aspects of Scharma's book is that he makes a compelling case that Sharp's work against slavery provoked the American Revolution. That is, one of the reasons that the United States fought for independence, was for the "freedom" to hold slaves. Thus, it is precisely that contradiction that Jefferson personified.

Oy - and it gets more complicated, when I consider both the history and historiography within the context of Scott's analysis of the state. For, the whole concept of history and moralizing about historical figures is emblematic of the structures and systems of state control. In either direction we are ultimately still discussing features, values, cultures of the state - to take a position on Sharp is to be implicated in the control of the state - even if one purports to subvert by participation.

So, in some sense, this does seem a fitting post for the start of 2010. We continue to grapple with the fact that we are members of a state, and yet feel a need to reject the state, and yet find that the ways to reject the state are constrained by the state itself - by rejecting we are participating. It is a sick and twisted version of the Strange Loop - one that entraps, rather than liberates. I suspect that the secret to liberation is through transcending the dictates of the state altogether.

Happy New Year.