Saturday Evenings: Stay In, Sit Up and Switch On

Some of us want to change the way capitalism works. Some others want to get rid of it altogether. Some would rather it kept chugging along the same way it has so far (these are the ones who usually command six-figure salaries and above). The bottom line is that nobody knows what to do with this centuries-old socioeconomic political system that is here to stay for the foreseeable future.

Enter Paul Mason, economics editor of Channel 4 News and his new book Postcapitalism.

I have nothing against Paul. I think he is one of the finest journalists and columnists today. Besides, he has a sharp eye to predict epoch-changing events. His Monday dispatches in The Guardian have become regular reading for me. For instance, his incisive and - mostly – impartial and non-partisan analysis of the Greek economic crisis has been a soothing balm amongst the finger-pointing and mud-slinging that passes off for serious reporting sometimes.

However I do disagree with Mr Mason’s conclusions in his latest book. According to Paul we are entering a stage in which information technology and a new sharing economy will eventually take over, thus creating what he calls a “postcapitalist” society.

The new Che Guevara?

One of the extracts from his book contains all-sweeping statements like this one: “Capitalism, it turns out, will not be abolished by forced-march techniques. It will be abolished by creating something more dynamic that exists, at first, almost unseen within the old system, but which will break through, reshaping the economy around new values and behaviours. I call this postcapitalism.” The use of the word “something” scares me to death. Using a pronoun whose connotation is an unspecified or unknown thing instead of giving me reassurance leaves me feeling worried. What is this “something” that is going to topple one of the strongest socioeconomic and political systems we have had for the last six-hundred years? As it happens this “something” is not a single entity but a combination of factors, namely, the nature of work, including the need for it and its relationship with free time. The second element is based on the way information is collected and shared. Current socioeconomic models are finding it hard to cope with a fast-moving world in which information travels much quicker. Finally the third component is – voluntary – collaboration. As an example Mr Mason cites Wikipedia, an ad-free, online encyclopaedia which is edited by volunteers.

Whilst it is a laudable effort for an economics expert to make the case for small and medium enterprises (to use the right terminology) it is less re-assuring to see that Paul’s theory is manufacturing-free.

In vain I searched Paul Mason’s extract for clues as to how food would be produced, clothes made or even computers (the devices on which, I am assuming, this information would be shared) built in this future, post-capitalist society. There was nothing there to indicate that the real problem we have faced for many years, not just since 2008 but before that, is that production has been broken down and outsourced. Therein lies the problem, or one of them. Capitalism began with someone owning a factory, for example, making something and working out the cost of production and the profit after. The system called to a very human need: our sense of enterprise and creativity. For centuries thereafter capitalism remained mainly local (yes, there was outsourcing in the 1800s but not of the same type we have now) with different countries specialising in a specific or specific sectors. The end of the 20^th century put paid to this economic approach. We have now computer parts being made in various parts of the world and assembled in others. What that means is that the owner, or owners as it is more common these days, can very easily ignore or violate employment laws and extract the maximum out of their workers whilst paying extremely low wages. I’m sorry, Paul, but network technology will not solve that.

This is the first time I have seen Mr Mason on shaky ground. Normally he is quite sound and convincing. My impression of the extract I read (which you can read here) was that he was going down the same route as Malcolm Gladwell and Steven Pinker, two writers whose oeuvre, I hasten to add, I have not read yet, but with whose essays I am quite familiar. Gladwell and Pinker are the equivalent of a catchy pop tune, the kind you cannot get out of your head. Their write-ups, whether they appear in The New Yorker or The Observer, are usually peppered with zeitgeist-y theories and soundbites that would be considered vanilla if they came from someone else. In fact, that is the flavour I think of the most whenever their names pop into my head: vanilla. I know that I am not being fair and maybe if I read The Tipping Point (Gladwell) or The Stuff of Thought (Pinker) I would probably change my mind. At the same time there is too much faux-philosophy-posturing going around and operating in a sort of self-referential, members-only club that looks down on those who do not get “it”. To use a baking metaphor, there is a lot of icing on the cake, but when you plunge your knife to cut it, there is nothing or very little inside. All you have is a lot of meringue. I hate meringue.

When it comes to economics, I think that most of us get “it”, even if we are not equipped with the knowledge to offer an elaborate riposte to our current woes. Regardless of the nature of work in the 21^st century and its relationship with free time, we all expect to be paid for our labour. Technological innovation of the type described by Paul in his article is still driven by profit. To me the challenge is to turn this technological development into an ally in order to rein in corporate excess, not to use it as a surrogate for means of production. By the way, for each modern robot-like machine brought into the 2015 workplace five or six people will lose their jobs. The start-ups that have put East London Shoreditch almost at the same level as Silicon Valley do not do it because they are interested in ushering in the next stage of capitalism. They do it because their businesses are profitable and because they do not fancy working at their local Tesco stacking shelves. This is still our world today.

I say, nice try, Paul, but next time see if you can give a little bit of substance. Please, leave the meringue for another occasion.

© 2015

Next Post: “Dramatis Personae of a previous life in Havana”, to be published on Wednesday 16^th September at 6pm (GMT)

Sunday Mornings: Coffee, Reflections and Music

I was recently having dinner with friends and relatives at home when the topic of class arose. One of the guests insisted on putting me in the category “middle-class”. When I asked her why she couldn’t give me a straight answer which left me pondering about the way some of us see ourselves in relation to how others see us.

I have always considered myself to be working class regardless of my profession. Although I have never done the sort of job that belongs in blue-collar worker territory, I was brought up with an ethic that had more in common with the working class than with the middle-class.

Remnants of a class system are still part of Cuban life. True, they are not as conspicuous as they are in other countries, but they do exist. They manifest themselves differently and yet they still retain features that non-Cuban readers will easily recognise as elements they come across in their own backyards. Amongst these traits is the very definition of “middle-class”.

It was not until I moved to the UK that I began to think seriously about class. Not so much in terms of which class I belonged to but more in terms of how much in-your-face the class system was in this country, whilst at the same time managing to stay hidden. You could say that in Britain the class system is hidden in plain view. The person who labelled me “middle-class” was middle-class herself. Whereas in order to arrive at her conclusion she must have factored in my job, income and aspirations, I, on the other hand, had a different idea about the group that most resembled my social standing.

Let me be clear about one thing: I am not embarrassed about being called “middle-class”. I do not think anyone should be either. As you know I do not do faux self-deprecation. I just do not think that I have that status. For starters, I do not possess many of the traits commonly associated with the middle-class. I do not own the house in which I live (it’s unlikely I will ever be able to afford a mortgage, let alone buy a house). Secondly, I come from a humble background as I mentioned before in which hard work was always encouraged. As my mother used to tell me: “Even if you decide to be a road-sweeper, be the best road-sweeper ever!” I must admit, though, that my father did have lofty aspirations for me. He wanted me to read law but I have always believed that that idea owed more to his own shortcomings (he always wanted to be a lawyer himself and at some point signed up to the equivalent of Open University in Havana to read law) than to whatever academic prowess he imagined I had. The final reason is that whenever someone attempts to “upgrade” your status, it says more about the person doing it and their prejudices than about your actual social rank.

There is a fourth reason. Although the woman who called me “middle-class” was vague about the reasons to label me so, I suspect she had the following elements in mind: most of my jobs in the UK so far have been of the white-collar variety, my wife and I have created a stable home (which we still do not own, as I stated before) and brought two children up who are very well-mannered, intelligent and creative. We do own a car, not an old banger, but not an Audi, either. Furthermore, since they were little our offspring have always been encouraged to think independently. What little money we have had we always made sure that some of it went towards paying for music lessons, swimming classes and trips to places we thought would enhance our children’s understanding of the world.  My wife’s job as a teacher is another reason for the “middle-class” categorisation; ours is what you could call a professional household. Our combined income hovers just over the average income in the UK (not London, however). We are both articulate and should you, fellow reader or blogger, happen to ever visit our domicile you will see copies of The Guardian, The Observer, The New Statesman, The New Yorker, The Economist, The London Review of Books and Prospect on our coffee table in addition to several books dotted around the house. So, yes, we read a lot and we read publications that make us think. Last but not least, we try to go abroad at least once every couple of years. Again, part of this decision is rooted in our belief that broadening up our children's geographical and cultural horizons is part of their development as functionally active and useful citizens.

Typical middle-class family: coming to a Poundland near you

Is that enough to be classified middle-class?

Tricky question and a no less tricky answer. If I answer yes, I would almost unintentionally cast the working class in the opposite role. Yet, I know from my own and other people’s experience that this is not the case. Income does have an influential part, no doubt about that. If parents of children from humble backgrounds haven't got the dosh to cough up for music lessons or swimming classes, their children will be at a disadvantage in relation to their better-off peers. At this point I need to come clear about something: my children learnt how to swim when Labour was still in power. The local swimming pool was free for under-12s. The coalition ended that. So, perhaps the drive to get children to try something new is also there in the working class household but the money is not. The other reason why I struggle with this unsolicited “middle-class” definition fostered upon me is that it creates an unfair division in which on one side you have the cleverer, aspiration-focused, hard-working middle-class and on the other one you have the (nowadays) feckless, tabloid-reading, football-loving, dumb working class.

It is unfair to think this way, especially in our current times when the formerly ubiquitous class
system has muddle up somewhat. One outcome from the 2008 economic crisis was that it suddenly sent both hard-up families and hitherto well-off ones to the same Poundland shop or Lidl supermarket that the former was already used to frequenting. The second tier up that the middle-class stood for has evanesced. What we have now is a disenfranchised working class, a middle-class that still insists on keeping up appearances despite the fact that many of them had to sell off and move out of London or similar urban centres and an upper class that has hardly been affected by the economic downturn. Where before the aspiration void was filled up by the middle-class, now there is almost nothing. Or rather, there is, but you will have to take part in that “reality TV” show in order to get there.

My point is still the same. I do not care what my income is, or what it will be in the future. House ownership is a topic my wife and I have discussed but which we feel is too out of our reach for the foreseeable future. Being articulate, in print or verbally, is not a byword for class status. There are plenty of working-class people who express themselves in a nice, clear way. When my wife and I talk about our aspirations for our children we do not mention higher education, but satisfaction in life, contentment. “If you want to be a road-sweeper, be the best road-sweeper ever!” Yup, I have taken up my mother’s mantra. Reason enough to carry on calling myself working class.



© 2015

Next Post: “Killer Opening Songs”, to be published on Wednesday 11^th February at 11:59pm (GMT)

Sunday Mornings: Coffee, Reflections and Music

What a week of contrasts this one has been. As I write I have a window open on my browser with a clip of 89-year-old Jock Hutton, veteran of the allied invasion of France, parachuting himself (whilst strapped to a member of the Red Devils) into the same field he landed in 70 years ago. In another window, I have a website showing me images of Bob Bergdahl whose son, Sergeant Bowe Bergdahl, was held captive by the Taliban for five years. On 31^st May Bowe was released as part of a deal that included five detainees at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.

As I mentioned before, this has been a week of contrasts.

To Sergeant Bowe’s story first, because his odyssey is not straightforward. You might think that being a prisoner of the monstrous Taliban is bad enough. But worse than that apparently is the suspicion that hovers now over the young officer. Joy over his release was followed days later by allegations that Bowe had deserted his post and compromised the safety of his army colleagues. If true the full weight of the military justice system might fall upon him on his return to the US.

But what if Hitler had never happened?

Now analyse this situation against the background of the commemoration of the 70^th anniversary of D-day. I am not for a minute suggesting that both cases are the same, not even similar, but the reaction to both reveals the strange attitudes some of us sometimes adopt towards war.

D-day seems at first sight to be pretty clear-cut. There was an enemy, Nazi Germany, there was an evil man, Hitler, and there was evidence of his evil acts, i.e., occupied territories and casualties, concentration camps and a pervasive, anti-Semitic and racist ideology which attempted to justify Hitler’s barbaric war. However, on reflecting on D-day I look at the reasons why 89-year-old Jock Hutton found himself being parachuted into Normandy seventy years ago rather than looking merely at his act of bravery. Had Hitler been not appeased by British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain and Soviet Union’s very own butcher Joseph Stalin there would not have been any invasion of Poland and Czechoslovakia and therefore no D-day to commemorate. Had Germany not been isolated after the First World War, Hitler would have probably gone down in history as a mediocre artist and not as the man who oversaw one of the most heinous crimes against humanity. Likewise, had George Bush not sent troops into Afghanistan and two years later into Iraq (with the help of one Tony Blair) it is very likely that Sergeant Bowe would not have been captured by the Taliban and therefore all these allegations of treason and desertion would not have come up.

When it comes to the theatre of war we like to think of its dramatis personae in terms of heroes and villains. The reality of it is, sadly, more nuanced and less obvious. This is not cheap pacifism on my part but pragmatism. I believe that D-day was necessary at the time. Same with the sacrifice made by Soviet troops during the battle of Leningrad and the hundreds of thousands who lost their lives there. Is then, unpatriotic to think that there could be ways to avoid such carnage again?

If you look at most wars, they were, still are, unnecessary. Centuries ago and up until the First World War, the main reason for them to be waged was the acquisition of (new) territories and the subjugation of their native populations for the purpose of cheap labour. Otherwise known as slavery. This happened in most continents. The First World War changed that, not because it wasn’t about conquest – it was! – but  because it also became a laboratory for the nascent arms industry to test its latest toys. The trend has continued. Nowadays, wars are more often fought as a way to experiment with new weapons. It is difficult to see how the likes of Sergeant Bowe can be motivated by the same lofty ideals as Jock Hutton when the reasons for them to be in places like Afghanistan are not as clear-cut as they were for those who defended Europe against the real danger of Nazism seventy years ago.

Unchaperoned thoughts like mine invite all kind of responses, especially in a year of centenaries. I admit that I am biased against war. This attitude has its genesis in my place of birth and nationality and the threats that we, as a country, have faced on countless occasions, mainly from the mighty neighbour in the North. However my reflections today owe less to the fact that hostilities between nations do occasionally break out (justifiably or not) and more to the different ways we react towards the likes of Sergeant Bowe and D-day veteran Jock Hutton. I don't think there's a soldier out there right now who is looking forward to having a "a graveyard as a friend", as Elton John reminds us in the clip below.  Let us hope that the next time a new script for the theatre of war is written, we think first and foremost of cause and effect, the cost - especially in human lives - of the mise en scène and bin the damned manuscript. Better still, just burn it.



© 2014

Next Post: “Living in a Multilingual World”, to be published on Wednesday 11^th June at 11:59pm (GMT)

Sunday Mornings: Coffee and Music

One of Elton's more thoughtful songs and one whose message we would do well to heed. I hope you're having a relaxing Sunday.

Road Songs

Are your a nodder, or a tapper? A screamer or a finger-snapper? Or maybe you go for introspection, your face an unreadable tableau of well-concealed emotions.

Fret not, for this is not a survey about outlandish sexual practices, but rather the myriad expressions I come across whenever I am behind the wheel. Once more spring has lifted the curtain to the annual spectacle that Britain becomes as soon as winter gives way to temperatures in their late teens. Minus the stroppiness and the talk-back.

Listening to music whilst driving is an activity in which we all indulge. Pardon me for being so absolute, but I don't think there's anyone out there who has not hummed his or her way through an entire school run whilst the little ones wreak havoc in the back. However, have you ever stopped to look at your fellow drivers? Especially when they seem to be carried away by the sheer power of the music they're playing? I mentioned this phenomenon briefly in a post last year, but it's only lately that my attention has been turned once again to motorists who cruise through our roads adopting various guises in the process.

For instance, the screamer is easy to spot. He or she will have a wide smile on their face whilst belting out an anthemic pop song at the top of their lungs; a melody usually of the mainstream variety. Like Elton John's "Saturday Night's Alright (For Fighting)", for example. Especially the chorus at the end: "Saturday, Saturday, Saturday, Saturday, Saturday, Saturday, Saturday, Saturday, Saturday's alright..."



I wouldn't recommend snapping your fingers whilst you're driving, but nothing can stop you from doing so when stationary and waiting for the lights to change. I can clearly picture you attempting to keep time to Tennessee Ernie Ford's '16 Tons'.



If, on the other hand, you're a combination of nodder and tapper, then the next track is for you. The simple drumbeat in this song is enough to send the most earnest of drivers into a serious head-and-hands workout. Better still if you're wearing some jewellery. Tapping with both your ringed and ringless fingers on the wheel alternatively will produce some amazing musical results. Trust me, I've been there. And, lest I forget, the young woman in the clip below is none other than Penélope Cruz. I think this was her very first public appearance, although I could be wrong.



Last, but not least, it's the pensive driver. Your inscrutable face is the Da Vince Code of the road. The mystery I've always wanted to solve. I know that you're listening to music in the comfort of your car, I can see you mouthing the lyrics, your gaze lost in the distance, as you wait for pedestrians to cross the street. But, what I'm desperate to find out is: what's playing on your car stereo? In the absence of a concrete answer, however, let's hazard a guess: you're listening to Sevara Nazarkhan, the Uzbek singer, songwriter and doutar player. And let's leave it at that, shall we? As for me, I'm a combination of all the types described above. Because nothing beats a good song on the road.



© 2011

Next Post: ‘Sunday Mornings: Coffee, Reflections and Music’, to be published on Sunday 10th April at 10am (GMT)

Song for an Autumn Sunday Morning

Bettye Lavette - Talking Old Soldiers



This song was included originally in the album 'Tumbleweed Connection' (1970) by Elton John. To watch the British singer performing the same track, please, click here.