50th anniversary scenes and takeaways of Hampshire’s return from the brink.
The College Turns 50 and Learns What It’s Grown Up to Be
Last weekend my wife Patty (F78) and I attended Hampshire College’s 50th Anniversary celebration. We live one town out from where we first laid eyes on the future, long before we realized our marriage is what that future needed to be fully lived in. We went expecting some chance encounters with a few peripheral acquaintances and a newly untangled neck lanyard. What we left with was the renewal of hope that the future not only required but could insist on the continuation of Hampshire College. The grandiosity was unexpected. But there is much to celebrate.
We arrived with guarded, pensive questions:
Is the existential crisis of prepandemic times only visible in the rear view? Is Hampshire back for good?
At age 50, is Camp Hamp ready to declare itself the institutional grown-up in a crowded room of fat elites, insulated by their liberalism?
Does such emancipation lend authority to the traditional school fight song? The one calling out the injustices that now masquerade as the business of the usual?
Paraphrasing President Ed Wingenbach here, few colleges can fall back on its social justice legacies without resting on its quixotic laurels. The Hamp he inherited didn’t have that financial luxury. What it did have was a devoted alumni community that considered Hampshire their academic soulmate. Not some option on a roulette wheel of school rankings but the only choice for them. An improbable mix of trust fund spoils, interdisciplinary modalities, and the pioneering spirit of the self-initiated.
By the Skin of Our Whims
Where else could you build a degree based on the skin of your whims? Where else could you demonstrate the value of your education was not clocked to your classroom hours but to the more expansive view of independent study. Not learning for its own sake, but for putting it to work — the fruits of your Hampshire labors.
The culmination of this remains the Division III — a thesis-like concentration anchored by academically-chaired committees and assembled by …
the Hampshire student as both messenger and focus of their purgatorial scrutiny.
The committee assessed the merit of the proposed Div III contract against the abstracts of the thesis. Often within the experience of delivering their realization through scientific, literary, musical, cinematic, and theatrical expression.
It’s fortunate for the college and our community that these yardsticks for graduating Hampshire remain in place 51 years later. It’s this blending of freedom, support, and guided trial that binds the real-world fortunes of alumns to their original and enduring premise for attending Hampshire. It’s true that the process still carries this dogmatic insistence:
1 Div III completion = one liberal arts degree
Perhaps that’s the price for being left in our post graduate bassinets at the entry ramp of the professional freeway? But at least the generosity inspired by these rites of passage allows us to host these spirited disagreements for another day.
Hit the Ground Solving
There were the four schools that bracketed Hampshire’s academic offerings across the liberal arts spectrum of its founding: Cognitive Communications, Humanities, Social Sciences, and Natural Sciences. The portfolio was reshuffled with the great re-imagining of Hampshire’s relevance and differentiation from other endowment-challenged small liberal arts colleges.
This urgency pares the precarious state of four evolving social problems with Hampshire’s own comeback from the abyss of the dim ‘Mim days of F18-S19. In practical terms this means that the first arrivals no longer dabble in Div I level flirtations. They jump into the furies of the current spasming century with both skidding feet, be it…
Confronting climate change,
Escorting white supremacy out the door, or
Defining truth in a post truth world.
Average White Male Band
The supremacy part of hitting-the-ground was especially apparent in reliving the grainy splendor of Hampshire Video. The only hue starker than the black and white test patterns was the white maleness of the crew and cast. At the time I think most of the Infinity crew considered themselves more as outcasts — even by Hampshire freak-flagging standards. But fast forward to today and it’s undeniable. That’s not a reason to pay an apology forward. What would today’s Hampshire students want or do with such a misdirected misgiving?
A more sincere gesture would be to mentor these new voices and encourage their own shaping and discovery. That we were afforded the same pathways is the institutional memory that bears preservation — not the memories themselves. I thought of that when I heard Lisa Napoli’s virtual presence of her eighties curation segment. Lisa was lamenting the loss of her Hampshire video legacy. I almost interrupted her virtual voice by challenging her familiar lament with actual evidence.
Recently I excavated a sketch where I cast Lisa in her future real-life role of reporter on the antics of Wind Shields. The interview concerns celebrity journalism and the fortunes of Brooke’s fictitious younger sister. In retrospect, the script is sophomoric. Like so many Infinity sketches, it deserves an obscure death. But at least I was trying to venture out of my hermetic maleness. And never had such inside baseball risen this close to the surface of my personal Infinity history.
Once and Future Infinity
My favorite 50th Anniversary ceremony was the Infinity & Beyond viewing and discussion of Hampshire Video. Full disclosure: I had no hand in the assembling of the program or curating of the artifacts. Yet I got scooped into the eighties reels like so many unwashed sweaters with their drying cycles set to a mod kitchen microwave:
Former spouses,
Long dried-up mod spills, and
Distant combustions of drug-induced creative angst.
All living in one throbbing continuum of a continuous metallic oxide salvage mission. What could be more legacy than that? A big pile of donations, that’s what!
Failing big windfalls of liquidity, John Bruner is the proud and capable keeper of the Infinity flame. The torch he carries was passed to him by the legend known as Gunther.* We learned from Bruner that it was John Gunther (F84) who executed the monk-like preservation of Studio G as a streaming channel on YouTube. **
* Also, thanks to John Gunther for looking the other way when those of us on security detail let interrupted the slumber of the editing suites in the early morning off-hours. As my Div III collaborator Andy Morris-Friedman (F80) attests: "Maybe you could crank out a 3 minute rock video within your 3 hour allotment. But not a feature-length documentary."
** As a second footnote, Bruner provided some homework to the time-rich and cash-strapped Infinity partisans. It's assigning times, places, collaborators, titles, etc. to the smoldering collection of orphan videos now stored in this YouTube-hosted vault. Please contact John for the QR scan you'll need to access.
Many alumns I remain pals with harbor a lost treasure buried in the metallic shadows of this vast, untamed archive. I look forward to providing the door, secret handshake, and instructions for crowdsourcing this reconnaissance mission.
Tom Giovan (78F) shared the insight that Infinity itself was always about the framing, the queuing, and the segues. He figured the folks who wanted their mugs to appear on Intran would emerge from the shadows as the weekly “programming” destination. It was the “glue” between segments that the Infidiots that anchored whatever submissions had gathered in the backlog. I can confirm from the era immediately proceeding Tom’s that the glue formed its own standalone destination, whether it was introducing the news, entertainment, or bastard of both.
Unwritten Histories
The existential flash point of Miriam Nelson’s ten interminable months as the school’s president may have been the shock to the system that we never got from prior leaders. Maybe her predecessor would sooner fall on his sword than his board to balance capital improvements with lagging enrollments and budget realities. In either narrative, “Mim” held the carving cleaver in the role of the grim reaper. In the overtures to her would-be suitors, she saw in Hampshire’s buildings, property, and infrastructure something that no graduate could envision or tolerate: the seeds of an extractive business.
The collective rejection of this was on full display at this weekend’s celebrations. $10 million in federal rescue funds have yet to be touched. Plan B is in place and may not be needed. Is this Hampshire’s books we’re talking about? We’ve got the vision thing and the business side playing on the same team? Amazing!
Curiously, there were teary-eyed farewells to former President Jonathan Lash curated in the 2010s reel. Yet there were no postcards from the predatory aggression or student-led brush-back against the administration in the dim, grim Mim times. John Bruner explained this as so much footage trapped in so many phones that never found its way to an arching meta treatment of this epic and ultimately heroic battle.
Any alumn Netflix producers out there?
A vulture capitalism carve-out script awaits only your filming rights. Either way, the diffuse nature of digital artifact collecting is a major challenge to a technology that remembers singular images contained in a visual lock-box in the casing of a SONY videocassette.
Next Chapters
We all left campus with a pocketful of sounds, pictures, a crumpled enrollment packet, and the exuberance that comes with believing the is a vital force for social change in a world gone to shit on our watch.
Can Hampshire cure climate change?
No and sorry but wrong question.
Can we nudge it back to health?
Better question.
Patty and I will soon depart our unglamorous work lives as salaried people. We will exchange commutes and Tupperware with a surplus of time and experience and shower them on a Hampshire community that supports the future as a nurturing place. One supporting its inhabitants on the earnings of their humanity alone. A market at the service of its citizens. It starts with a generosity still scarce in these times of perceived loss and imposed transition. Tomorrow’s Hampshire is the nesting place.
It’s no longer the personal story of the hero but the political reality of the all-powerful where the fantasy life of today’s escapism is scripted, cast, and streamed. Movie fantasy? Meet video game.
What Happens When The Escapists Are Greeted As Liberators?
Prolog
Much has been said about America’s mud wrestling with media disinformation and political dysfunction. Much has been debated about the competing versions of what America stands for and what she stands against. This clash of narratives is nothing new. It comes straight from central casting and sucks your news feed dry.
What is new is a switcheroo between two competing versions of how Americans view themselves through the social histories that form of our American identity.
One is the ideal of the American dream. The other we’ll call the American hallucination. The willful removal of context from the telling of dark, American stories. Those are tales where backwards thinking slips out the back door. Casting retroactive judgments on moving pieces of the human chessboard is not just some parlor game. It’s what’s on the news menu. It’s the future of entertainment.
Retrofitting a movie ending around changing attitudes is one way to explain the wholesale rejection of the moral codes at work guiding their time-appropriate behaviors. Another is to say this is what happens to a culture that witnessed the death of the American dream. On our watch die she did. We grew up in the promise of an American dream that was within potential reach. Of which reachers? That would be the upwardly mobile as-in … anyone with modest means and slightly immodest ambitions. We all knew the dream was both imagined, and as real as our devotion to it.
Yes, it was a marketing ploy. Not everyone would rise accordingly. And yet, shouldering those hopes would nurture our stamina. We will endure this recession. We will break out of this bust cycle. We’ll reach the point where it’s our money that’s being borrowed. The ultimate payback! Such were the trailers for the American dream that fired our young, professional imaginations. A generation later, that hope has dimmed if not extinguished for millennials gaping at mountains of student loan debt. Didn’t we get ourselves through school? Wrong question to be asking, Buddy.
They don’t root for the little guy because they know first-hand their chances of taking on Goliath or selling him their start-up is nil. Instead they’ve escaped to a world where the entire power structure is questioned. The elites and the brokers and the deciders are all accountable for the corruptions wrought by their abuse of this power.
It’s a power they neither earned nor amassed but simply inherited, thus bypassing any of the accountability associated with traditional channels of leadership and trust through public dialog. It’s no longer the personal story of the hero but the political reality of the all-powerful where the fantasy life of today’s escapism is scripted, cast, and streamed. Movie fantasy. Meet video game.
Smell Testing Standards
Like you, my wife and I watch our share of streaming escapism. Like you, sometimes we’re Googling while we watch to determine empirical fact from artistic license. Recently we traveled back to our formative professional adult times and streamed the movie Working Girl (1988) starring Melanie Griffith, Harrison Ford, and Sigourney Weaver.
If your post boomer curiosity is unaroused, I guarantee there’s no spoilers worthy of your alerting. The implausible resolution of a lurching plot twist rests on a wobbly bed of screwball comedy formulas. These wacky, zany, turns of narrative have long since thinned out on the expired belief they could pass the smell test. There were three bands of smell test results:
Sweet success (first and foremost): that an audience could invest its betting money in a series of improbable events coming true.
Scent of a popular B movie (next and likeliest): that the guy gets the girl (or in this case) the girl gets the gig and that conviction could lift the emotional prospects of its audiences.
Cheap cologne grade (last and least): that the silver screen could suspend enough disbelief to make them forget their off-screen troubles. Sometimes for longer than the film. Imagine! Are your movie muscles still limber? Can you still go the distance?
The final elevator scene has more sleights of hand than a fire-eating juggler of vanishing card tricks. And yet the world surrounding that bank of corporate elevators is grounded in the same plausible backdrop that would greet any movie-goer on their commutes the following work day. The change that director Mike Nichols is foisting on us lives between the hearts and minds of a repentant but worthy protagonist. Melanie Griffith’s hometown character is in a double destiny reversal with her antagonist boss. A worldlier and coddled arch-rival played by Sigourney Weaver. Who do we root for? Nichols makes the decision for us.
Crowd Scenes of Today
In 2021’s collective mental landscape, snootiness is not only in. It’s the cost of even entering the one remaining form of advancement. Self-promotion is the last resort of scoundrels and ambitious claims on climbing today’s corporate, political, and cultural ladder. Our seething anger can’t be directed at the privileged few cutting the line of our promotion. We were never up for one in the first place. And we still have jobs. Even if it’s a full time job just figuring out how to hold the one we have. Besides, no one is especially interested in our inability to rise in station or settle a personal workplace score.
However, aiming our invective at the tribe who cut the line? Sublimating my shame with healthy dollops of contempt for the success I’ll never be? Now you’re talking. Permission to uncork, sir? It is the contagion that knows no flu season. Our addiction to indignation is transmitted via smart phone notifications. No surgical strike implied when the car drives over the curb. Nothing pedestrian about these protesters.
Wait! How did we get from the crowd scene shot in a lower Manhattan office lobby a generation ago to the white supremacist march on Charlottesville in 2017? What do our current political upheavals have to do with screwball comedies, cultural smell tests, or the aerosols dancing off our phone sceens?
Everything, if you’re streaming wholesale retakes of historic tragedies like Quentin Tarantino’s Inglorious Bastards or Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.
Plenty, if you’re rewinding to episode one of anything Ryan Murphy revisits on his $300 million tab from Netflix, or what Midge Maisel doles out to the knuckle-dragging GI Joe Schmoes in the smokey take-my-wife clubs .
A whole new backdrop to the Cold War once the viewer inserts heroine Beth Harmon into the cardboard cut-outs of gobsmacked prodigy bros and inscrutable Russians.
Bridge Construction Ahead
The point is to guide the viewer’s lust for justice to the obliteration of the bullies who tormented us through the 20th Century. The bridge leading back there is a fabrication that bypasses victims, heroes, and all history books that stand-in for the psychopathic reality hosts that set civilization on its heels.
Is a bridge back to the Twentieth Century the way to throw the cold water of reality on a Dorothy who mistakenly thought herself in Kansas … but that Kansas prohibited free and fair reproductive rights services?
Is it a bridge back to the Minutemen when San Francisco schools throw Paul Revere on the tinder of so many Confederate flags because of his mistreatment of Indians?
Is it a bridge back to the time when a white man’s country was his shining castle and everyone else new their respective roles and places? Who needs cancel culture when you can delete entire decades of coalition-building and consensus-making?
Does the retelling require the wholesale re-staging of our revisionism? A post racial past where open hearts and independent minds upstage inheritance, tribal rites, and skin tones?
Is that how social justice wins over individual liberty?
Is that how merit transcends birthright?
Are we sure we’ve persuaded our libertarian friends this is the way, past our open intolerance for one another?
And can 71 million Trump voters be fully culpable for their own alternative realities?
These are weighty deliberations for the most reasoned of actors and the most sensible of cultures. For the winner-take-all USA, it is a bridge too far for anyone expecting to meet solid ground upon its crossing.
2020 as Hindsight
In the screwball past, the audience could indulge in the implausible outcome, so long as the good guy was believable. Maybe a little more faith would enable us to fight the good fight long enough to prevail in our own reality series. But at least we had to power to change for the better.
That was the known quantity after the credits had rolled. Our current indulgence for these flights of historic fancy is the outcome of losing that faith. That expectation of a future we can have a hand in shaping, not just a present we’re preoccupied with enduring.
In the narrative, this was once centered on the change and growth of the protagonist. These days you don’t need to identify with the star. In fact if you stage an anti-hero your plot can beat up on the larger society without needing to identify with the star, as-in…
I don’t condone Walter White’s crimes in defense of providing for his meth empire family
I don’t sanction the use of waste removal consulting services for packing Tony Soprano’s adversaries in garbage bags
I don’t approve of Cersai Lannister’s power grab as much as I respect her dealing of bargaining chips. Would I despise a man any less?
But I do indulge with imposing my 2020 hindsight on the 1970s world — the same painted cloth of unyielding circumstance that hung behind the characters of my coming of age. The idea of switching out the social norms was no more conceivable than redirecting the crowd scenes in Working Girl off lower Manhattan. And into the East River.
Reality departures don’t mean that the reality keepers own the landing rights of reality’s return. It means that we must change and grow past where our own despair pacifies our anger and appeals to the notion of running out so many clocks. That would be the ultimate fiction and the breaking in the arc of histories yet to be written.
Talk is cheap. But shouting is even cheaper. Especially when it drowns out the opposition — the expense of listening.
When we were last together in our third installment of episode three: (“Reckoning With the Virus as a Force for Good — What Comes Next”) we tried some perspective-taking. We slipped on the Gucci loafers of Senate Republicans to understand their resistance to helping the unemployed through the fall and winter of our pandemic discontent. We looked through the lens of Senator Rick Scott of Florida who argued that the hardball negotiation by Senate Republicans was a feature, not a bug, of keeping American labor lean, hungry, and ready to resume where it left off.
Senator Scott’s pumping on the economic relief brakes is understandable. The wealthy underwrite elections, the parties protect their donors and in Mr. Scott, we’ve got a two-for-one sale displayed proudly in the C-SPAN store window Remember that return on investment in GOP majorities a.k.a. The Tax Reform Act of 2017? Turning the clock forward to the pandemic zone shot us clear past the final solution:
1. Neutering and defanging the federal government.
2. Turning the clock back to a world of unrestrained capital
3. Fleecing, before fleeing the republic, for which it stands.
No Life Boats in Coach
Of course, once the plane crashes, fixing the auto pilot is a luxury for the survivors. Even those survivors in first class who can float their own way to safety. Even recovery of the flight recorder is a distraction to the stranded hoards in coach. Would the most unfit be voted off the island by the libertarians watching at home? What would women and children first look like to the crew piloting this rescue plane?
Wake up from the scripted nightmare and a cold splash of aspirational reality could revive us. According to former Treasury Richard Rubin, federal revenues were already running a full two points below normal when the pandemic hit. Compared to the glory days of the dot.com heyday and tax revenues are now 16.5% of GDP, compared to 20% in the late nineties.
My point? A narrow post-contested victory this November still brings the of wiggle room needed to reverse the 2017 tax holiday for those likeliest to make it a working vacation. That consequential first step has the public, and history on its side.
Confidence in paying for what exactly?
The freedom for taxable income to do the most good for the most salary-dependent people.
The priority shifting from American Color War to a national obsession with a shared precondition called economic insecurity.
That’s where capital in search of a home goes. Not its reflexive old normal routine: the highest return on the hoarded investments of insistent shareholders. That’s the bottom-line for the underwriters at the crash sites of broken auto pilots.
U.S. is Them
There are limits. Soaking the rich does nothing to broaden the commonweal. We all need skin in the game. Even the self-dealers and self-makers who think they can redirect highway funds to repair their imperial driveways. It can’t fall on the losers of a prior election. We need to move away from winner-take-all to a renewed spirit of shared sacrifice. Replacing one echo chamber with another extends the cycle. The concussive bluster of who gets to govern returns to the mutual respect of governing effectively. The new adversaries are not those in disagreement but dissolution: the enemies of compromise.
Here are the counter-arguments to Senator Scott’s tough winners-don’t-negotiate love from Rubin himself, a former Goldman Sachs-plated lion of Wall Street, and the furthest voice from the Bernie Bro Choir of any corporate-respecting Democrat:
Prediction #3 — The economy as a manageable problem to solve in a plausible way…
There will be ample room to increase revenues, on a highly progressive basis, for example, by increasing corporate taxes, restoring individual rates, repealing pass-through preferences and imposing a financial transactions tax. — Robert Rubin, Bringing the Economy Back to Life, 4.17.20, The New York Times
The calculation extends to health coverage:
We should also pursue universal health care coverage, preferably through a public option, while at the same time reducing our system’s overall costs, which far exceed other developed economies’. Ibid.
And that credit card balance!
Addressing our debt/G.D.P. ratio is in our longer-term economic interest and also benefits us in the nearer term, as greatly increased debt could impede the recovery. Ibid.
Some of these resentments began spilling into the public square over the summer. The backlash against systemic racism for starters. Remember that post racial society that Chief Justice Roberts used to justify the gutting of key provisions in the Voting Rights Act?
Perhaps those same rose-colored blinders are what justified the left’s lethargic turnout during off-year Obama era elections. Either way, that pendulum swing is in full counter-punch. Pendulum whiplash. Darkest midnight to highest noon.
A Petition to Replace Faster, Better, Cheaper
Why is it that economic inequality is not a bug of an unjust society? It’s a feature of a smoothly-running free market economy. For me, the answer is personal and simple. I feel lucky to have a job. And it’s not just any job so I double down on gratitude. I experience feverish gratitude that the job pays enough to sustain a family and a modest retirement savings. Head over heels on a slow day, really. My appreciation reflects the precipitous fall from office to service worker. Concepts like recognition, generosity, or even job performance do not factor into this equation. Income flow for most of us is a precarious thing. There is no actual bump in pay for superior effort. Maintaining income flow is reward in itself.
The connection here is more than personal. When every labor is justified as an exchange of assets, the cheaper the transaction, the more marginalized the laborer. We get this theoretically for buying cheap T-Shirts and jeans from Pakistan. Does that rationale find its way home when it’s our work product that finds its ways into the software code, legal contracts, marketing collateral, or even health care coverage consumed by our employers?
The corona-infested economy may well in fact settle for a continuation of faster, better, cheaper; especially if we don’t find a replacement for the race-to-the-lowest reduction-based logic. That’s a return to the humming along economy that dropped us like a stranded passenger that forfeited their free Two Day shipping flight home from planet Amazon.
It’s not enough to blame the status quo for this predicament. We need to intercept faster, better, cheaper at the factory gates before escorting it out of the board room. We need to knock innovation off its trajectory enough to factor the greater good into the disruptions to come. Only then can we justify a future that includes us in business-as-usual. Three next chapters have yet to be written. Blame their stripped-down open-endedness on the allure of alternative arrangements and these bloated time bubbles:
What’s an economy for? This is not the question that comes to mind in the reinsertion of the prior default settings of manufacturing and distribution. Plug and play makes sense to the owners of capital than the holders of debt, let alone the 50% who were a few off weeks from belly-up when the prior economy was purring along. How do we get from a trillion dollar cash injection to more of it actually circulating as we enter that tentative, post coma rehab phase?
What’s our collective sense of security? Is it to beat back the advancing hordes of the bad hombres? Perhaps it’s no longer about who’s: (1) labeling who the terrorists or, (2) determining the greater of two evils … global, or homegrown (you pick ’em!) Perhaps it’s about an America first that favors the nationalizing of the medical necessities we’ll need as more of us are victimized by changing climates, dissipating resources, and heavy hand of the unforeseen to come.
What’s the role of the individual in all this? Prioritizing what brings us together in shared sacrifice was a pipedream before this pandemic. It becomes almost graspable if we can re-establish the guiding clarity of the greater good. That’s no drug-induced high. That’s corona phoning in a sick-out from the Oval Office last evening. But that begs the biggest-picture question looming on the great post-pandemic horizon. How to see each other as individual contributors to that greater good, and not its dilution.
Will the pivot back to a road ahead be engineered outside the exclusionary interests of the muscular capital elites? Until offshore means: (1) a full-time residence in a private island tax haven, or (2) different planet to occupy, we have a shared outcome in a mutual controlling interest.
A Poverty of Professions
Part of that mutual interest is to occupy the time on earth of those whose needs suddenly outpace the capital formation of their labors. A paucity of wealth-providing trades and professions is a seldom mentioned scarcity in the recently completed run of the bull market. It’s also curious that our oligarchy-favoring leadership decides that throwing unregulated profits at corporations is the shortest distance between record-setting unemployment and mission accomplished.
What future economy will open the door of career choices for the able-minded people of an entering workforce?
Prediction #4 — Amazon needs workers until … they don’t
In 2020, they’re arriving into workplaces where their labor is both urgently needed and conspicuously treated as a problem to be eventually solved.” — John Herrman, Amazon’s Big Breakdown, The New York Times, 5.27.20
Easy access to short bursts of cash works out great for the connected and the corrupted. For the rest of us, writing the rules requires a new way to tie three laudable goals long buried under an unsustainable pile of Better, Faster Cheaper: compensation, merit, and stability. OK, merit cuts both ways and the current steadiness in direction is taking us to some pretty unstable territory. How about if stable keeps merit honest? That leaves an open slot for “better” to climb back in… so long as we unmoor it from the greasy downslide to the cheap farm that globalization wins no matter who’s racing.
You Don’t Have to Worship a Dollar (to Go to Work Everyday)
How many gigs are you holding up? Are they even consistent enough to be counted the same from one pay period to the next?
What if the social contract wasn’t bleed-me-dry in exchange for a chance of a promotable event in some foreseeable future? What if there was an actual dependency between the personal fortunes of the big tech elites and my take home pay? What if the downstream impact of decisions were felt firsthand by the folks who make them? Would they make those same decisions if they had to live with those decisions?
Returning to Senator Scott’s cautionary “do better someplace else” tale on the Senate floor, when was the last time you personally were moved to refuse the terms of your employer? That’s the leverage needed for economic recovery. And it’s not a return to work or the ethic of hard work. It’s the dignity of work that provides for the workers and their managers. Not simply for owners and shareholders.
The dignity of work: Step one in our long national recovery to come.
And now we are not returning to our normally scheduled programming.
Reckoning With the Virus as a Force for Good
The Oasis of Normalcy
When we’re knocked for a loop, normalcy is the comfort food of the disoriented. It’s allure comes from the reordering of so many misplaced pieces. We won’t have to walk barefoot and blindfolded through this pool of shattered fragments known to many as Ground Hog Year, known to some as an unyielding series of cancellations, and known to all as the year the media told time according to a scoreboard of accumulated deaths and new Covid cases.
Flirting with the sudden, unannounced resumption of normal ends the uncertainty, clarifies our work schedule, sends our children back to class, and buys us a drink at the watering hole we used to call bumping into someone. The bipartisan prayer for a cure-all vaccine is an understandable as the natural inflating of expectations around a pay-off delayed. Even a promise so universal that it can’t be politicized.
But the funny thing about normal is this: As we begin our inevitable return to the creature comforts of indoor dining, commuter transit, karaoke nights, nail salons, movie theaters, and preassigned theatrical seating, we find that our audience antennas are tuned to once remote signals we hadn’t picked up before.
We begin to insist on safety platinum plus deluxe edition. There should be six sanitizing stations from the time the gel enters our fingers until the moment the card reader ca-chings. The sound piped into our ears is the breathy ventilation that infuses our lungs with a purified whiff of mountain spring breeze. Anything less and it’s the stale, recycled scent of someone waiting to exhale the memories of the now bankrupt perfume counters of department stores from the zombie malls of the 20-teens.
Funny how the normal we insist on has as little to do with those pre-pandemic aerosols from sample perfume spritzes at Macy*s or a whiff of cotton candy-scented mesh teddies at Victoria Secret. In the world to come, we are practically punch drunk from bombardments of judgment about the state of our containerized orifices. It’s not just a lack of will for taking on further changes. It’s the thinning air under that facial mask that limits our abilities to imagine a world we want to publicly engage in.
How do we overcome these instincts towards self-protection for rethinking what’s possible and not just what’s preventable? How do see this transition as a respite from carrying forward the former burdens we needn’t carry into a more enduring future? What comes next is the struggle to fill the void of today with a new balance of personal and collective responsibility. What does that look like?
When Taking Care of Business Means Business as Usual
Prediction #1 : “I think Jeff Bezos is going to offer the COVID-19 test as part of every Prime membership. I think that’s where we’re headed.” — Scott Galloway, New York Magazine, May, 2020
Destabilizing is bad. We get that. Even our most skydiver selves are clutching our parachute cords when confronted by the no tomorrow future of street violence spilling its way into living room, kitchen, and utility mud room mayhem. What’s not so easy to navigate is where an unquestioning return to flawed assumptions about how normalcy clears the destabilizing bar at any low, medium, or high bar setting.
Perhaps no evidence trail is more tread upon in the service of stability than social contract number one: Playing by the rules is good for me and for you. Like any prevalent notion, this agreement is presupposed. It is ingrained in both our better and second natures. This accommodation is primal. It is transcendent. It is central to how we conduct ourselves within a society held together by the same reciprocal understanding.
What pre-COVID assertion has risen up to challenge social contract number one? Is it that a vote for my opponent is a vote for chaos? Is it that I’m a chump for playing by the rules and the social contract was never followed in the first place? Is it that democracy is too unpredictable to be left in the hands of a public electorate? Nope. It’s about our uncompromising push for a return to normalcy. We’re talking finger-in-the-socket mental-distancing. It’s no longer getting back to the life we know. It’s more personal than that. It’s getting back to the life we miss. That’s one selective memory and it lingers long past any expired social contracts.
Put down your gun, your phone, your remote, your thumbs, and the jewels and metals around your ring finger. There is no negotiation. There is no commentary. There is no rehash of a status quo consensus. Just an insatiable appetite for the ending of this moment. And in its place? The comfort of the expected.
The Pursuit of Human Misery
One thing that no one expects in America is justice: The notion that social contract number one is back in force, and binding, regardless of our social strata. We can miss the ideal of working towards a more just society. We can strive again towards that more perfect union. But until our measurement systems are refactored to include such goals, our pursuit of human happiness will be limited to trading averages, credit risks, hedge funds, and score-keeping perfected through the relationship between our online behavior and purchase histories.
How else to explain a financial scoreboard of booming stock markets and depression level unemployment numbers? And those are just the job consumers, i.e. people in need of a pay check or two. What about the small business owner who just sank a ton of dough into an unessential business? What’s their sense of what comes next?
Three-point-five-percent (3.5%) unemployment it turns out was no better firewall against our shuttered economy and its after-effects than if it hadn’t come down at all these past record-breaking 112 consecutive months. There is no social distancing the loss of a paycheck from the arrival of a rent bill. All those jobs created over those 9 years? Gone within a matter of weeks. In early June unemployment plummets to 13.5%! So much winning? You’re probably bored with so much winning!
The next set of financial health tests needs to focus less on corporate earnings and more on personal assets. Forget about another tax break encouraging big ticket investments of putting capital to work in employment-generating enterprises. Save your breath. Wear your mask.
Instead we need to scorecard how well the massive outlays from our next government find their way into a dynamic and re-awoken economy. For instance, what if money was not a contest of who’s richest but a travel log for what happens after it leaves the treasury? It certainly doesn’t find it’s way back if we look through the tax records of Amazon, Starbucks, and Chevron. But it might if instead we were tracking more graspable indicators of personal financial health:
How much are these trends reversible, sustainable? Is there even a place at the policy-making table to seat for sustainability? Other than an incumbent’s need to stay in power?
That Deer in the Headlights is Yesterday’s Road Kill
If the capital outside of circulation is being sold as credit to poor people, the next election won’t be between two candidates from two parties. That’s no longer plausible when the business of America is politics. Elected leaders cease to govern or persuade in terms of electorates. They had been working the ballroom, not the big tent.
Now it’s the breakout room on Zoom. That’s a frank and open exchange compared to the headspace between an itchy Twitter finger and the inaudible scream factory. That piercing incitement you don’t have to unmute. The dog whistling to the same wind that catches cryptic QAnon jabbering and late night punch line chortles alike. Loud and clear.
What about your own internal chatterbox? The voices that escape from the scream factory into your own fingers. You want convenience? You’ll find your instant cash-out at the ATM located near the slot machines.
Oh, you said voting machines? Sorry. Some hearing loss is inevitable at the scream factory.
You’ll hope there’s enough time between jobs to get cross-town for the privilege of waiting hours for a crack at expressing your power. Exiting stage left: Evacuations of the donor class to their own bunker islands, sheltered from the pitchforks of the disenfranchised, income-challenged, followers on Facebook, and former homeowners-turned-refugees.
And now we resume our regularly unsustainable programming
Do we want to continue feeding an economic engine that halts to a sputtering stop once the perpetual motion brakes get pumped? That’s no simple brake job with the plumes rising under the hood.
Here’s what a good corporate citizen would say about what comes next for the recirculated capital that lands on their own balance sheets:
Remember, this ante-raising of untapped corporate responsibilities is a warning from the same preeminent consulting group that captains of industry retain to lessen their collective loads; to make social problems (and larger payrolls) disappear.
In fact it’s the separation anxiety of reliable labor pools from their steady pay checks that makes the American unemployment experience the towering shadow presence in the national psyche. Outfits like McKinsey rush to fill the void between the terminators and the terminated. It’s vital to organized lay-offs that a third-party luxury brand like McKinsey validate the decision. So vital, that paying McKinsey’s exorbitant fees is a relative bargain to the executive boards paying these fees from one ledger and justifying their workforce reductions from another.
None of the terminators want the social contract muscling in here. That’s the nuanced conversation between labor and management that once sought common ground and goes like this:
(1) No one gets everything they wanted.
(2) Nobody leaves empty-handed.
I’m not aware of such a meeting. Maybe McKinsey shouldn’t be faulted for keeping the guest list to clients only.
Here’s another meeting I wasn’t invited to that I can overhear going down in my kitchen. It’s a Zoom call between public school administrators and staff in the district my wife teaches in. She and her unionized colleagues are being duly informed that they’re simultaneously teaching virtual and classroom school. The choices here for public school teachers? Do what I tell you. Maybe you’ll keep your job. Maybe.
Nobody ever said the business of America is labor. Not even Bernie, right? What about restaurant owners, pet groomers, and local farmers? What about the local repair shop, the nail salon, and the micro brew? Let’s compare the difference between the smallness and the largesse that passes for American business.
The $25 billion the Senate scrounged up to address the zero balance of the small business rescue fund is also the same sum marketing the increase of Jeff Bezos’ net worth since the beginning of the pandemic. Percentage-wise that’s a second place finish for eye-popping according to Americans for Tax Fairness.
The winner is Mark Zuckerberg whose personal net worth has soared by nearly half of his pre-corona fortune. So has Zuckerberg’s capacity for recouping perceived losses at the hands of his labor force, like the popularity of working from home:
“If you live in a location where the cost of living is dramatically lower, or the cost of labor is lower, then salaries do tend to be somewhat lower in those places.“
These veiled suggestions of salary reductions for not shouldering the same real estate costs as one’s corporate keeper is astonishing both for its miserliness and rejection of one of few remaining cards a remote worker has left to play: The cost differential between where they settle and the more urbane locations of their office commutes.
In one career-span, we’ve seen “people” downgraded from their employer’s “most prized assets” to their costliest. What rounding error does management solve? The margins they can’t deliver to the board without those pink slips. The rewards are obvious: a bigger share price and sudden drop of interest in next year’s bonuses. Good thing too. A raise is no longer a justified investment in human capital. It’s an arrow on your back that follows you to the next downsizing.
Who’s essential in that equation? It’s cash horses like Zuckerberg. It’s the boss who identifies with putting their capital assets to work — not their workers, and certainly not themselves. That could create even costlier, unplanned liabilities as-in small tokens of empathic understanding: Let them work from worksites of their choosing? Sounds consistent for a tech giant that…
(1) Mines the emotional surveillance of its users regardless of location, and
(2) Outsources its editorial function to faceless, underpaid offshore contractors.
Stealing the Future from the Social Ordering Economy
For all this doomsday forecasting, why am I then more optimistic about making promises than pensive about holding onto the ones no longer worth keeping? Because, however you define 2020…
We’re in it together
We’re all fighting the same real enemy
Gated communities are not immune from it
Winning that fight is more important than pleasing shareholders
Many of the newly invented enemies are jokers in the deck of an overplayed hand. They are seen for the distractions that they are.
What happens when disruptions are visited on us by viruses instead of innovations?
Anger fuels the patience many voters will need to wait their turn long after the polling stations close on November 3rd. Less angry and the might have surrendered. More satisfied and they may have … Satisfaction? What does that even look like under the banner of the face mask?
1) Capital in search of its next home: Perhaps it means that money expands its role beyond the value of its investment potential for top-heavy holders of excess capital.
2) It’s the density, stupid: Maybe it’s that we stop knowing what’s best for people living in density settings that differ wildly from our own sense of place and community.
3) An under-cushion in lieu of safety net: And if economic insecurity ceases to be the isolated desperation of individuals, perhaps our societal concern can become the cohesion-forming kick we need to re-unify our country. Even if it means that the unemployed don’t have to choose between their next job or their next rent payment.
For all of us privileged with the gift of health, COVID-19 has some overlooked, silver linings. It’s provided us…
(4) Accelerated time tables for the demise of coal, and fossil fuels, and the,
(5) Boatloads of time we never had to reflect on the contrived clutter of our double-bookings and self-serve regular approach to hitting already congested highways.
But wait, you say. What advantages our idle minds to serve an economy in toxic shock? Is there no higher calling than reviving that social-ordering economy? And what of the spoiled appetites of our newly enfranchised non-workforce? Isn’t the disrepair of our unemployment systems enough incentive to settle for the entry floor of the big box stock room?
Here are three what comes next game-changers to keep those end-of-the-tunnel lights set to sustainable and away from our personal stash of unpaid bills. This is what the social contract to address economic insecurity looks like in three bold strokes:
1) Guaranteed minimum income (GMI): The GMI proposals floated by Andrew Yang in last fall’s primary season predated the generous unemployment package attached to the passage of last spring’s CARES Act. Both The unsqueezing of the already marginalized means giving workers the ability to better determine where they invest their labor. Perhaps one guy standing in the way said it best: “The moment we go back to work, we cannot create an incentive for people to say, ‘I don’t need to go back to work because I can do better someplace else.’” — Senator Rick Scott
Those of us less tormented by notions of sloth may not agree with Senator Scott that our work ethics are in the balance so much as the fighting shape of our beleaguered American middle-class. There is no better color, race, or red/blue state-blind bill than the economic security provisions it contains.
Without those? Remove the last vestiges of that frayed social fabric and you have more than skin in the game. You have exposed bone striking against raw nerve. Or, what we already had before the pandemic. That’s where the terminators lose their ability to float undesirable jobs for unsustainable wages. That’s where the gravity of the virus speeds into the passing lane; then swerves into the oncoming rattle of foreclosures, bankruptcies, and a prolonged loss of appetite for all but the essentials.
2) Education as Equalizer | The return to social mobility — Somewhere along the lines of self-interest, we lost sight of higher education as a win/win proposition for its graduates and a future depending on their success.
The end of the college campus as party central and the intimacies of classroom instruction means a refocus on learning and away from the emptiness of the overachieving: boilerplate recommendations, standardized test scores, an over-scheduled crush of extracurriculars, “and middling students who play arcane sports.”
Our future notions of leadership, community, and a responsible citizenry should not rest on a winner-take-all competition for acceptance to elite colleges and universities. A virtual education depends on access to technology, not the trappings of privileges that come with SAT coaching, bribing, or the boasting of what NYU Professor, Scott Galloway refers to as the luxury brands of higher education: The lower the admission rate, the more bullet-proof the Harvards, Princetons, and Stamfords of this stardom-ticketing enterprise.
A return to admissions based on the capacity of each students’ willingness to better themselves is not some vain hope or fabled stepping stone. It’s what used to pass for a college degree:
Its restoration will scale to social mobility for the graduate and the greater social good for the world they pass on.
What they will learn there is not to be traumatized by the debating of ideas. There they will learn to hold two opposable views in their heads while considering the respective merits of competing explanations.
That both of these aspirations are no longer even offered as electives these days is reason enough to ride roughshod over the glimmering towers of the ivory-coated fortresses. Yes, end the tax-exempt status of institutions that stockpile bloated endowments for the single purpose of inflating them further.
3) Gamify the IRS | From Tax Avoidance to Aspiration Spending — Looking for redress from that ransacked social contract? The one that says we’re all equal under the law? The one that says our treasury is funded by the size of our incomes, not our loopholes? Sorry, next party in power. But soaking the rich does nothing to broaden the commonweal. That’s skin in the game we need to move away from winner-take-all to a renewed spirit of shared sacrifice. Replacing one echo chamber with another extends the cycle. The empathy, perspective-taking, and context needed to govern effectively is replaced by the concussive bluster of who gets to govern.
We don’t have a demand-side system based on need. It’s a want-based system based on the incentive to opt-out. Where’s the justice in that? The only ones left holding the treasury afloat is a declining base of taxpayers; too affluent to avoid taxes, and too poor to stash their incomes under said loopholes.
One way to spend-down our debts and shortfalls is to give taxpayers the agency required to address policy issues of their own choosing: Immigration, defense, housing, Medicare, early childhood education… (as if the list ever shortens).
Given the monopoly-sized influence of the lobbies on tax policy, we taxpayers must insist that we file our returns with the added calculation for where to direct those funds. Need to gin-up the stakes? Market the choices like a Power Ball Lottery? Fine. Go gamify the thing. Give every thousandth return collected a free pass. The more skin, the better the game.
Now that you see what happens next, how can I bait your breath for more?
Stay tuned for more Foresight: Reckoning With the Virus as a Force for Good. Our next installment is Part 4’s What Needs to Come Sooner (if there is to be a later) and petitions the innovation orthodoxy of faster, better, cheaper with a supply chain that squares with accountable demand-side outcomes of compensation, merit, and stability.