Jamaica Reflection, 2008
Five second-year and four first year physical therapy students, along with two physical therapy faculty and their partners (who are also PTs) worked in Jamaica from May 15-May 24, linking exclusively with West Haven Children’s Home (15 people in all). On May 20, we received a tour of
One faculty member of the school of ed, her son, one retired professor/administrator, three classroom teachers (graduates of Bellarmine), two current education students, one business/communications major, and one arts administration major (12 people in all) worked in Jamaica from May 26-June 5, partnering with Blossom Gardens Children’s Home, West Haven Children’s Home, and Wee Care Basic School.
We also had a chance to meet with Judge Rosie Feurtado and Attorney Jeanne Robinson (chairperson of the board at Sam Sharpe Teachers College) on June 4 to talk about new partnerships: conflict resolution, literacy and special education initiatives in Jamaica, generally, and the Copse Place of Safety for Boys, particularly (which houses 70 kids ages 6-17 years old with one teacher).
The following reflection on the experience is subdivided into several themes, which no doubt have common threads throughout them. This is the way they came to me. The themes (hopefully) articulate questions that emerged during the trip, conversations held into the darkening evening hours on the deck of the Grandiosa, and experiences with our Jamaican partners. As well, they attempt to interweave the poetry that Gina so artfully collected for our reflection and use Farmer’s Pathologies of Power as foundational. Finally, they try to bring old theory to bear (Freire, hooks, Solnit, Carlson, Johnson, Marcos, Che, etc.] in light of more recent exposures (Gutierrez, Sartre, Fanon, West, Lukacs, Marx, Checkov, Lebowitz, Jamaican columnists such as Robotham and Levy, etc.).
Your feedback and reflections are welcome!
For some context, you may view "A decade of work in the global south," in which Gina and I summarize and critique our first ten years of work in Jamaica.
posted by adam at 12:47 PM
12 Comments:
Economy
"We inhabit a small garden, collectively and individually, but the bitter weed of King Sugar sprouts back in many forms of the same bitter weed
of capitalism" (George Beckford and Michael Witter, Small Garden . . . Bitter Weed, 1980).
Perhaps as easy a place to begin as any is the economic. Poverty pervades Jamaican society, a country in which $0.70 of every dollar collected in taxes goes to pay external debt. This debt was accumulated by mainly pernicious means—either by Jamaican politicians who placed self interest above national interest or by a world community so invested in global capitalism and international financial institutions (IFIs) that profit was preferred to people. Of course, it is neither the politicians (some of whom maintain dual citizenship with the US) nor the IFIs that suffer under such austere economic conditions. It is the Jamaican people who carry other’s debts as their yolk.
Marx professes, “The absolute general law of capitalist accumulation establishes an accumulation of misery. . . .Accumulation of wealth at one pole, is, therefore, at the same time accumulation of misery, agony of toil, slavery, ignorance, brutality, and mental degradation at the opposite pole.” We became painfully aware of both poles on our trip, traveling from one (wealth) to the other (toil and brutality).
As Andre (our driver, guide and teacher throughout the experience) might ask, “Well, what’s the shituation?” Well, the shituation is this. Columbus arrived in 1493 and (eventually) wiped out everyone on the island (the indigenous Arawaks) through disease, terrorism, and inhumane labor conditions. Next, slavery ensued, transporting Africans to the island as early as 1517. The English won Jamaica from the Spanish. The enslaved peoples of the island did not win, though. Between 1700 and 1786 600,000 more of their African brothers and sisters were enslaved and brought to the island. While emancipation eventually came in 1838, independence did not follow until 1962. And, “emancipation” and “independence” are terms we should use quite loosely. Economically, Jamaicans were and continue to be enslaved. Even during the period of decolonization (European countries pulling out of their colonies because they were no longer profitable in the 50s, 60s, and 70s), these “freed” people would fall victim to the new master of economic colonialism through unconscionable loans and (anything but) free trade agreements. Fast forward to 2008 and we see evidence of the impact of the new global economy of Jamaica: sugar, which was replaced by bauxite, which is now replaced by tourism, prostitutes Jamaican labor for the pleasure of others. In fact, all Jamaicans possess is their physical labor, since much of the tourist industry is owned abroad. In addition, the new favored workers of the global economy, Indians, have bought up most of the shops in tourist areas.
Yet, despite the devastation of global capitalism on countries like Jamaica, its allure is tempting, as Andre constantly reminded me. “Money, money, money” was a consistent message and desire. This refrain is completely understandable and rational because Andre (at his pole) is exposed to the same media I am (at my pole): “because white folks figure / ain’t no questions for a nigger / that material possessions / can’t answer / we’ll stay preoccupied with what we / wear and what we drive / while our mothers die of cancer / we’ll tuck our low self esteem into / some Eurotrash jeans / some overpriced shit from / Donna Karan (Sarah Jones, blood).
Andre, though, makes $50.00 a week as a driver plus tips (which many tourists do not provide on advice from their travel agents who suggest that these folks are “taken care of”). The physical therapy techs at West Haven make $10/day of which half is gobbled up in cab fare. A teacher friend of ours makes $6000 per year ($16/day). On balance, these folks are doing better than 2/3 of world’s population living on less than $4/day. Yet, on a different balance, Gina and I make a combined $274/day and are only a few months ahead of paycheck to paycheck living. The price of fuel in Jamaica is more expensive than the US. Houses cost about the same. Groceries cost the same. Emergency health care is free, but costly in terms of taxes. What must frame the thinking of a worker making $264/day (96%) less than the kind people coming to help them when the costs of living in our two countries are comparable?
How does the market (i.e. global capitalism) structure our lives? What are we forced to do based on the systems that are thrust down our throats through slick socialization, active choice, and/or made-to-seem-powerless feelings promoted by schools, churches and media? What do we do with the crystal clear history of brutality, misery, and death with which our forebears have terrorized the Global South? What do we do with the fact that our standard of living now is based directly on the profit derived from such treatment? What will we do with the history of this moment which will tell the same story to conscious people of the future? We are the new forebears about whom our grandchildren could wonder why we didn’t do anything.
Gustavo Gutierrez, a liberation theologist, thinks about change as a “permanent cultural revolution”: “To conceive of history as a process of human liberation is to consider freedom as a historical conquest; it is to understand that the step from an abstract to a real freedom is not taken without struggle against all the forces that oppress humankind, a struggle full of pitfalls, detours and temptations to run away. The goal is not only better living conditions, a radical change of structures, a social revolution, it is much more: the continuous creation, never-ending, of a new way to be human.”
Highlighting the historical and connecting to the socioeconomic, Cornel West might add, “The grand quest for truth is a thoroughly historical one that takes the form of practical judgments inseparable from value judgments on and social-analytical understandings of socioeconomic realities.”
And, Marx suggested in his 11th thesis that philosophers have sought to understand the world. The point, though, as he saw it, was to change the world.
How will we write this history of the present? How can we reconcile the economic obscenity we have personally witnessed? How can we find new ways to be human and end the dehumanizing trends about which Milton has consistently been asking us to consider? The judgment of consciousness seems clear. The action, the change, seems less clear.
We begin to change through consciousness. Consciousness means understanding ourselves as both subject and object in the historical process. More liberatory action will proceed once we figure out how to make our subjectivity primary. We are agents of change. We have the capability to apprehend the economic injustice. Now, we consider what to do, however full of pitfall, detours, and temptations to run away. The pragmatic solidarity that Farmer calls us toward must centralize all things economic. How do we moderate our economic behavior in a climate of hyper-consumerism? How do we help empower others economically? How might we form solidaristic alliances in which our economic existence is more explicitly intertwined/interconnected/interdependent with each other? (Our group? Our partners in Jamaica? Our coworkers? Etc.) What might we learn from such a process? How do we (ultimately) challenge the system (capitalism) that has created these despicable circumstances?
Perhaps one thing at a time, or some other avenue. I look forward to your feedback and the possibilities as you see them. I also look forward to sharing thoughts on the other themes over the next several weeks as we construct knowledge of ourselves, the world, and others, together.
Patience Lost
There was a time
when I had more patience
I would see people fall
off this path of most resistance
and I would call
willing to give chance after chance
This journey is only
for those willing
to question
and be
questioned
If you are looking to sit back and enjoy the ride
in the comfort of your house
on the comfort of your couch…
you have another thing coming
No time to wait for others to guide
if we stay on course expect to have to try
“At first you had no idea,
I am prepared to believe it,
then you suspected, and
now you know,
but you still keep silent”
This journey is only
for those willing
to challenge
and be
challenged
Was it a pop or a fizzle
when your bubble burst?
As the hideous reality came crashing in
I see you scramble to rebuild
avoiding responsibility
seeking the solace of that space
I am not convinced it will ever be the same
How long can you hold the walls up around you,
make excuses, justify your place?
“Let’s take a good look at our selves,
if we have the courage,
and let’s see what has become of us”
This journey is only
for those willing
to resist
and meet
resistance
You have a choice
There is no room for
half-ass commitment
pacification by participation
in a system of destruction
Your contentment
fills me with resentment
As far as I am concerned
you are going against us
Your reality
false
My patience
lost
*quotes from Jean-Paul Sartre
So one thing I am good at is critiquing myself. As I am feeling my patience falter and my resentment rise I try to make sense of the direction of these emotions. I wonder to myself, if I want this effort to expand and want an inclusive effort for change, then how can I push people away? The way I make sense of it in my mind is that I am tired of putting effort into those who have seen the devastation, the systemic violence, the pathologies of power, but who still choose to do nothing, to participate in the system without hesitation. To me, this is conscious decision to be satisfied with injustice in order to maintain one’s own comfort. If somewhere along the way these individuals change their minds and decide to fully commit themselves to this struggle, then I will welcome them. I also recognize the contradiction within my poem of discussing what it will take to be a part of this struggle (to question/be questioned, to challenge/be challenged, to resist/meet resistance), while I am complaining about those challenging and resisting. I just am not certain I can spend energy on them when there is so much more to do. There are still so many others out there who have yet to witness or gain an understanding for this complex disaster, and those who are victimized on so many levels but don’t realize they have allies in their struggle. This is who I feel we should focus on reaching out to, this is where our patience should not wane. Perhaps I am just reminding myself of what it takes to be in this struggle, and facing these traditionally socialized individuals is part of the journey and I need to be prepared to meet them as resistance.
Take from it what you will, but this is where I am for the moment. I don’t even feel I have skimmed the surface of all that is whirling around in my mind…but there will be more to come as I try to tame my thoughts. So far some of the themes I am trying to wrap my brain around that emerged for me at some point during our trip include: making sense of emotions (guilt, shame, anger, passion); the discomfort of consciousness; the role of silence/complacency; power of social systems (confusing reality with social constructions); what’s next (moving from kindness to critical action and holding ourselves accountable). Yikes…not sure how long it will take me to get through all of that, but I plan to keep this dialogue going as long as someone talks back.
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I just finished reading a book called the Richest Man in Babylon, and in it the author talked about how important it is to take advice from experts on areas you don't know. A surgeon might know a little bit more about your broken arm, a financial specialist about your money, etc.
In relating this though to the struggle, I cannot help but question if this concept would apply as well. Gina you wrote about patience, Adam about the need for money in Jamaica. Is it possible to personally learn about the two issues yourself, as I think everyone should be as aware as possible, but ok with knowing that you're role in the struggle lies elsewhere?
That's not to say we should turn a blind eye to what we do not know, but to truly live in a community doesn't that call for us to trust the others engaged in the struggle to step up and act in what they are specialized in? Whether that's education, money, health, etc?
In writing these words, I myself begin to feel frustrated. It all sounds to easy and yet the world I'm seeing today reminds me it's not.
My goal is not to sound like I'm coping out in suggesting that we need to specialize. I can’t emphasize enough how important it is to be as aware as possible. But sometimes in order to really get things done, is it ok just to trust? To have hope, which is not to be confused with religion for the Jamaica 08 education group, that there are people out there working towards the same justices, with skills and gifts that are different than yours? It’s a challenge without a doubt, as individual skills are needed in this journey. But in order for change to occur, is it ok to believe that community is key?
Excellent question, Kerri. I have a not-so-excellent answer: I am not sure. :)
Of course, community is key, but I don't see community as a collection of specialists. The doctor's work must be closely tethered to the economist's, must be closely in line with the teacher's, must be intimately connected to the mother's. I think we can each maintain particularlized knowledge, but only if we understand its link to all other areas (the "totality," as Lukacs might call it), especially history. I think we all bring special talents to the struggle, but the mind we bring to it should be fairly uniform--that is, a theory of humanization in mind with a multiplicity of actions possible. Once we lose the theory, though, which foundationalizes the community, our actions become disconnected, sporadic, whimsical, and, thus, less (if wholly un-)effective.
The trick is maintaining patience just long enough. The trick is self-critique without self-destruction. The trick is speaking without forgetting to hear and listening without forgetting how to speak.
This discussion, so far I think, demonstrates the beauty of what is possible toward this theory of humanization.
(Privilege and) Social Difference
I suggest you walk
Into my pain as into the breaking
Waves of an ocean of blood, and either
We will both drown or we will
Climb out together and walk away (Piercy, Intimacy)
In the first installment I looked at the economic issues structuring not only the lives of Jamaicans, but, by proxy, our own lives as well. Any analysis of the world and its social phenomena must be framed against the backdrop of capitalism and the logic of capital.
In the June issue of Monthly Review, Michael Lebowitz, a retired economics professor who has followed the Bolivarian Revolution on Venezuela closely, observes, “The logic of capitalism . . . can never lead to the full development of human beings. Because the whole goal of capital is profits. . . .To increase profits, capital does everything it can to increase its exploitation of workers by separating them and turning them against each other. . . .It compels people to compete for jobs by working for less. It uses the state to outlaw or destroy trade unions or shuts down operations and moves to parts of the world where people are poor and trade unions are banned. . . .It is logical for capital to do everything possible to turn workers against each other, including using sexism and racism to divide them. . . .The more precarious the existence of the worker, the greater her dependence on capital” (p. 5).
What is obvious upon flying into Jamaica and taking a short drive in any direction from the airport is how poor Jamaica is (outside the insulating and artificial walls of resorts, of course. See “Service learning, social justice and hope in the summer 2004 Rouge Forum news: http://www.richgibson.com/rouge_forum/newspaper for more).
Of course, what is also quite noticeable is race. Even though race has no biological reality, its social and political reality is overwhelming as most Jamaicans are noticeably not ‘white’. Upon interaction, what also becomes obvious is how gender gets used as a tool of separation. While the social and political construction of race is used even among Jamaicans for stratification purposes (‘whiter’ upper class to ‘browner’ middle class to ‘blacker’ lower classes), gender is most certainly used as a social and political (and artificial) boundary. Patriarchy abounds as Jamaican women and touring/visiting women from abroad are objectified by males. Though women often hold offices of prominence (even one year as prime minister, which is further than the US has gone) and are often the breadwinners for their families (as is the case in many of our personal contacts in Jamaica), women clearly hold a subservient role to men.
These differences divide us at our ultimate peril, as Lebowitz’s take on the logical of capital above outlines. Imagine if men and women worked together to overcome the artificiality of the gender constraints we accept and with which we fit/limit ourselves. Imagine brothers and sisters working together outside the political and social construction of race to recognize the common plight of our economic alienation, slavish consumerism, and manufactured competition that enriches few and impoverishes many.
This type of consciousness requires us to do this work, to constantly dig into our privilege, to challenge our socialization, and to recognize the tools developed to separate us (and how these tools are often given to us—in the “buffer zone”—to help separate the others), helping some “get ahead” instead of helping everyone “get together.”
In this consciousness-raising spirit, then, let us consider a relatively new form of social difference that has been hierarchicalized and is used to separate us: sexual orientation. I use “relatively new” since heterosexuality was invented/constructed in the late 19th century. By default, then, homosexuality was also subsequently invented/constructed for social/political purposes—i.e., to keep us artificially separated. Such an invention is rational given the logic of capital and its connection to and use of religion to further its own purposes.
Capitalism needs the constant production of workers, so heterosexual relationships and reproduction are fairly crucial to this endeavor (until more recent scientific breakthroughs, of course—artificial insemination et al). As well, heterosexual relationships fit well within the hegemony of patriarchal arrangements in which the father (the man) sits at the head of the household (the objectified woman and children). And, religion, then, is used to render the heterosexual relationship as ‘normal’ and moral and the homosexual one as ‘different’ and bestial.
Perhaps an interesting discussion could ensue about any of the above points. To move on, though, I take them as axiomatic in order to turn the lens on our experience in Jamaica and to see how sexual orientation has become one of the latest weapons of separation.
In past conversations with Jamaicans, we have known sexual orientation to be a hot-button topic. Narratives of hyper-masculinity and narrow morality overcome any rational discussion about homosexuality. One would hope that a more nuanced/tolerant discussion might be possible at the governmental or, at the very least, at the academic level. Unfortunately, neither seems to be the case. (And, one could argue, of course, that this mirror is reflective of our own US culture/discourse at both these levels.)
Midway through our trip this year, we had a chance to see the Prime Minister of Jamaica, the newly elected member of the JLP, Mr. Bruce Golding, interviewed on Hardtalk by Steven Sackur, a broadcast of the BBC. Much of the conversation surrounded the issue of violence in Jamaica (a topic I will take up in a later dispatch). However, late in the interview, Sackur hounded Mr. Golding with a succession of questions about sexual orientation. Moving from a more pointed question of would you appoint someone whom you knew was gay to a cabinet post to a more benign question of would you like to see this in the future, Mr. Golding responded respectively: “No;” “I do not think that is necessarily the direction in which I want my country to go.”
Perhaps more remarkable and even more disheartening/disconcerting was the follow up commentary in the Sunday edition of The Gleaner, Jamaica’s leading newspaper. One, a sociologist at the University of the West Indies, Dr. Orville Taylor, writing under the title, “Closet maybe, cabinet no!” noted, “He [Prime Minister Golding] couldn’t have said anything else. Indeed, why should he?” Postulating that there are too many “lies, half-truths, and incomplete information” that frames the gay/anti-gay debate, Dr. Taylor seems to engage in some of his own inflammatory half-truth-/lie-telling. First, he hints at a connection of homosexuality and paedophilia [sic]—an inflammatory comment at best. Next, he prioritizes the conflicts facing the country in order to diminish the comparatively limited violence wrought upon homosexuals (indeed, not connecting the conflicts/violence in any critical way as I think a sociologist should). And, finally, he unequivocally states, “You cannot protect that which does not yet exist. No freedom from discrimination based on sexual orientation exists in the UNs Charter of Rights.” So, is he indicating that we have no duty to protect anyone not explicitly mentioned in the UN Charter of Rights? This is not a sociology with which I am familiar.
The other, a “veteran journalist,” Mr. Ian Boyne, reporting under the heading, “Golding and the Gays” essentially develops a manifesto of anti-gay logic for heterosexists. Writing from the opinion that “Golding had no option to insist that he would not bend over to accommodate the gay agenda” (my emphasis added), Boyne excused the ill treatment of homosexuals since, “[at least] we don’t execute them by law, as in Iran!” Free at last. Developing his manifesto, Boyne further urges anti-gay proponents to use the following ‘rational’ arguments to fend off this activist lobbying group whom he deems despicable due to their “willingness to use economic sanctions and political clout to force compliance to their obnoxious views.” Apparently, Mr. Boyne is not familiar with the kinds of politics used against gays and lesbians. So, two main points structure his argument:
• Use democratic theory. Since a majority of Jamaicans oppose homosexuality, “no such Cabinet [which would appoint homosexuals] would command the respect of and authority to govern the Jamaican masses.” This is democratic theory?
• Use moral authority. Boyne urges, “Remember that, philosophically, gays are on treacherous ground when it comes to ethics. Christians hold to what philosophers call Divine Command Ethics.” (Jesus must be rolling his eyes.) Further driving home this argument, Boyne observes, “Secularists have no means of objectively determining morality outside of culture and custom. There is no ethics from above, or ‘out there’ (say many); nor does any elite have the right to determine for the masses what is right and wrong.”
Setting aside, for a moment, the fact that Jesus never gave us any direction on heterosexuality (since it was invented/constructed 1900 years after those writing about him] or homosexuality, I am deeply troubled by Boyne’s analysis and what I find to be his fear-/hate-inciting rhetoric. Using his analysis, then, slavery should have never ended in the US (or anywhere, including Jamaica). A democratic majority certainly favored slavery (as slaves and women and poor people couldn’t vote). And, the Bible (written and updated by non-slaves, non-women, and non-poor people) was interpreted in such a way that rendered slavery OK. Enslaved Africans, then, held no democratic sway, nor no moral authority.
That an editor would allow such nonsense to be printed is unconscionable. However, unfortunately, I fear it represents the commonsense (if wholly ignorant) thinking of most of us. Evil is not only the despicable acts committed against ‘minority’ populations. Evil is our willing ignorance to believe mythical stories of democracy and morality that substantiates such violence and renders it rational. To disconnect ourselves from the evil visited upon the oppressed/marginalized/disenfranchised is to help load the gun and pull the trigger. Silence is, indeed, our most deadly weapon.
In my own analysis, I recognize the shaky ground upon which my critique stands. While attempting to expose the US with the same light, I recognize that I am writing across a wide chasm of privilege, casting my critique from the Global North into the Global South—only observing culture, not living it. That said, I believe the analysis is worthy of consideration (injustice is injustice) and will be sending a more nuanced version to Dr. Taylor and Mr. Boyne, hoping for a subsequent dialog. I’ll keep you posted.
But, now, back to us. In my last dispatch I took some shots at understanding a pragmatic solidarity both against the backdrop of a “permanent cultural revolution”—producing new ways to be human—and also built upon a critical consciousness for which we understand the subjectivity with which we insert ourselves into the world. Here consciousness, toward a new way to be human and for which we might more solidaristically join the oppressed is primary: How do those of us faced with a minority position in any of these social arrangements (race, class, gender, sexual orientation, etc.) see ourselves as hooks urges as both oppressed and oppressor? Can our understanding in the oppressed/objectified position help us better see those times when we act with a dehumanizing subjectivity as oppressor (e.g. poor man who uses his whiteness to his advantage. Gay man who uses his privileged class position. Latino who castigates homosexuals as immoral. Etc.)? What about those privileged by nearly every social advantage? What is our role? How can we shed the albatross of oppressor?
How can we all speak our consciousness in such a way that our self-change becomes a lens through which others might change?
How can we wrestle with our own socialization (a long term process) toward becoming more human while simultaneously ending dehumanizing trends that demand immediate attention (and which may result in imperfect and, perhaps dehumanizing action, of our own, like violence]?
Referencing the work of postcolonial and cultural studies scholars who attempt to shed light on the taboo areas of our culture, Denise Levertov asks, “Where is the angel for me to wrestle?” What are the areas of social difference, resulting in social injustice, for which “history mouths / volume turned off?” “Where is the angel to . . . wound . . . my throat / so curses and blessings flow storming out?”
It seems crucial as we deal with our own consciousness (the only one we can really deal with) that our next step is learning to speak it. Speaking it may take many forms; words being only one of them. Crazy enough, we have the privilege (those of us probably reading this), even if faced with some oppression in our lives, to decide whether or not we will even take up this challenge or to continue to live where there is “no driving snow in the glass bubble.”
Our decision will have an intimate impact on others. Marge Piercy notes, “I suggest you cook me / or sew me back up.” We are no longer able to disconnect ourselves from evil in the world. We live it. We do it (through inaction, through silence, etc.). We are it. Our socialization in the Global North demands it. Thankfully, we have a decision, though. It begins with a new way of looking at ourselves and the world. It continues by connecting the dots that have so cleverly been kept just out of view. It further evolves by coming to voice. And, it never finishes because it is process—a process that we must learn to translate into the various spheres within which we live.
This is the process that will allow us to “climb out and walk away together.”
Even though I whole-heartedly threw myself into my own reflection, I, like Gina, have barely “skimmed the surface of all that is whirling around in my mind.” Each piece of this reflective dialogue we are having via e-mail and blogspot gives me more to think about and more directions in which my thoughts can wander. Right now, I just want to offer my thoughts/emotions to some of what Gina and Adam have discussed in previous reflections.
First, Adam, thank you for further illuminating the issue of homosexuality in Jamaica. I actually stumbled upon the same editorials in the newspaper and had a hard time just reading the words. I tried to express some of how I make sense of and come to terms with this in my reflection (which I e-mailed), but I still do not feel like I have explored the subject in all the ways I need to.
Part of me is struggling to even accept the challenge to look at myself as both the “oppressed” and the “oppressor” because I already know what I will see. In one simple word, I am a hypocrite. While I do not consider myself to be acting in an oppressive way when I make the decision to keep my sexuality quiet (almost silent, really), I do struggle to find a way to rationalize that decision in a way that allows me to be okay with myself and okay with my stance on all forms of oppression. I suppose I am my own oppressor in this way… even when I do speak out against homophobia and heterosexism, I do it under the guise of (assumed) heterosexuality. The idea of freeing myself from these hetero-normative chains is terrifying. The district claims to not discriminate based on sexual orientation, but I’m not willing to test that out. Maybe this makes me a coward, but it is quite possible that my entire professional existence (as I see it) would end if I were to break free.
In her poetic reflection, Gina wrote about losing patience: “there is no room for / half-ass commitment / pacification by participation / in a system of destruction / your contentment / fills me with resentment / as far as I am concerned / you are going against us.” This truly resonated with me for two reasons. One, I know there isn’t room (or time) to piddle around with issues of social justice or coming to critical consciousness. There’s just so much work to do and so many people to reach that I, too, resent people who don’t give it their all. Two, I worry that I am one of those people who is only half-assedly committed to this. I am guilty of being pacified by the system(s) that only serve to destroy me—MTV, bargain shopping, mass media, etc.—but not all the time. Sometimes I just have to escape the weight of the world. I cannot carry it all the time, even when there are many other people who also carry this weight with me. Does that make me against us even though I think I am a part of the us?
Gina’s reflection spoke to me on a very intimate level because this is something I constantly face in building real relationships with people. In my mind, you either get “it” or you don’t get “it.” If you don’t get it, I really don’t have time or energy for you. (Except when it comes to my students, but that’s entirely different.) To truly have a worthwhile relationship with anyone—be it friendly, romantic, or professional—I need to know that you get “it” or I won’t ever open up. I spend so little time being free that I refuse to sacrifice my freedom when it comes to relationships. Thus far, I have been blessed with numerous people who do get “it” or at least get enough of “it” to help me make sense of the world. Even though this making sense of the world may be small and inefficient, I do believe it is something… it will never be enough, but at least it is something.
If this helps, Kat, none of us carries the weight of the world on our shoulders. What we carry, when we choose to, is the weight of our perceived or misperceived responsibility to the world, not for the world. Whether I perceive myself to be too big or too small to assume my rightful responsibility (i.e. my consciousness of self) as a member in good standing in the local-to-global moral community, then it is a problem of my ego and not my soul. My soul "knows" and that is precisely why I am troubled.
Please forgive the brevity of my comments. I will participate more fully latter. I just returned home to abq, with my mother, and I couldn’t sleep. So, I don’t have much energy at the moment. I hope your patience holds out Gina long enough for me to find my “specialized” thoughts (Keri). The economics of my engagement, Adam, has less to do with prioritization (Bryan) than with a poverty (all of you) of energy. Just wanted you all to know that I am with you.
“If more people were screaming then I could relax”*
Jamaica 2008 reflection
“The voices, the faces, the suffering of the sick and the poor are all around us. Can we see and hear them? Well-deafened against troubling incursions of doubt, we the privileged are precisely the people most at risk of remaining oblivious, since this kind of suffering is not central to our own personal experience.” (Paul Farmer, Pathologies of Power)
Every year the trip is a little different and, I have to say, a little better. Some exciting things happened this year. For the first time we were joined by the physical therapy crew, who worked unbelievably hard. Both groups had some great discussions, though uncomfortable at times, very necessary. Every year is also different in how individuals on our team think and reflect both while we are there and when we return. It is common for some to resist, for some to want more, and for some to get swallowed up by the status quo of life upon returning to the States. This continues to be difficult for me, so I have spent a great deal of time thinking about what leads people to be comfortable with complacency, with silence, and ultimately with upholding an unjust system.
“So it’s as easy as breathing for us all to participate.” (Ani DiFranco, Your Next Bold Move)
To me it seems that people are often content with the ease of breathing the lies we are told, or that we even tell ourselves, so we can maintain our comfort of disconnect. All the distractions that consume us, that keep us wrapped up in our own, rather than reaching out to those who are living the struggle. Instead we just breathe. I know I often need to remind myself that people are deeply socialized to be silent. I often want to hate people who are working for the status quo…anyone from crazitions (Partix work for crazy Christians…not sure if I spelled it correctly) to “do nothings.” They are doing what they have been trained to do as they consume the brands of this false reality. I struggle to come up with excuses for those who have started on the path toward consciousness but then turn back. But I continue to explore why one might choose silence: 1. complex emotions are paralyzing, 2. the discomfort of consciousness, and 3. the power
of social systems.
Complex Emotions
“Shame should not immobilize us. It should provoke us to action.” (Howard Zinn, Just War)
During this trip many people tried to make sense of emotions such as anger, passion, guilt, and shame. There was some critique that feelings of anger lead to conflict rather than community. I think this may be true, but I am not convinced that change can be reached without conflict. Because these ideas are so different from the mainstream, or even trying to undo the mainstream, we are not going to be met with open arms. There needs to be some deep emotion that drives our action, whether you call it anger or passion or whatever…we need it to lead to change. “Without the basic political instinct of anger there can be no hope for the wretched of the earth [who] are still with us” (David Macey, Biography of Fanon). The key is how we use these emotions. Feelings of shame and guilt can slow us down, unless we realize we can do something about it. It is true that we have no control over where we were born, who are parents are, etc. But we do have
control over what we do with the privilege with which we were born. Do we bask in it without considering those in the shadows? Do we feel some sense of guilt but then run and hide because it is too painful? Or do we get pissed and work to do something about it? “They just think we ain’t never / gonna change our ways / ‘cause then we might finally taste / the blood of rage” (Sarah Jones, blood).
Discomfort of Consciousness
“It stands to reason that, as beneficiaries of growing inequality, we don’t like to be reminded of misery and squalor and failure.” (Paul Farmer)
It does make some sort of sense that we would avoid that which is uncomfortable, if we are only considering our own discomfort and ignoring that of others. I think what makes this so challenging is that in order to recognize others’ discomfort and, to take it a step further, to do something about their discomfort would mean having to make sacrifices and give up some of our own comforts. This discomfort can include the knowledge and acceptance that suffering is real, not haphazard, and we are complicit. Or giving up our material possessions or facing resistance from loved ones. This is where so many fall short in this struggle, myself included. How much are we honestly ready to sacrifice? I’d like to think my response to this would be “whatever it takes,” but in my daily efforts I don’t always speak up because it is easier to just let it go. We don’t even hold ourselves accountable in our middle class house, in our mostly white
neighborhood, in our decent cars, on our comfy couches…we need to be more honest with ourselves. “Let’s take a good look at ourselves, if we have the courage, and let’s see what has become of us” (Jean-Paul Sartre). If we can’t look ourselves in the mirror, face our own hypocrisies, and work to change them, then I am not sure we can be successful in the bigger struggle of society. It would not necessarily be wise to throw our privilege out the window without considering what the next step would be, but we should still recognize that “the prosperity of the few cannot be based on the poverty of many” (Paul Farmer). We should consider how we best make use of our connections, our university educations, our privilege, while at the same time recognizing we will need to give up some of our luxuries if we are to reach any form of equality.
Power of Social Systems
“The internalization of social values serving the perceived needs and interests of dominant social groups seems to have been achieved initially through coercive measures. However, coercion was gradually complimented, and often replaced by processes of socialization and social control rooted in, and aided by, methodology, organized religion, and ideology.” (David Gil, Confronting Injustice and Oppression)
The system is intricate, the system runs deep, and the system is immense. Our morals, our values, our thoughts, our perceptions, our reality have all been constructed by these systems. So, I have to continuously reflect…why do I hold the values or beliefs that I hold? What purpose does it serve for me to have certain beliefs? Does it just make me more comfortable, does it serve the needs of the powerful, or is it a critical thought that can push us in a constructive direction for change? These social systems impact every aspect of our being, including my first two considerations of emotion and our desire for comfort.
Religion and charity entered into our conversations several times in Jamaica. These systems are playing an important role in socializing the masses, as well as providing necessary services for those suffering without asking why they are suffering. Families, organized religion, and education all impact the formation of individuals’ values. These can play a positive role in making us feel better about ourselves by helping others or treating people with respect on an individual level, but it is not questioning why people need help in the first place or acknowledging that people are discriminated against at a structural level. I just want to encourage us to consider who is being served by us holding particular values. “[The Church] does not call the colonized to the ways of God, but to the ways of the white man, to the ways of the master, the ways of the oppressor. In this story many are called but few are chosen” (Frantz Fanon, The Wretched of
the Earth).
“These crumbs of charity solve our problems for no more than a moment, and then, death returns to our houses. That is why no, no more, enough of this dying useless deaths, it would be better to fight for change. If we die now, we will not die with shame, but with the dignity of our ancestors” (Subcomandante Marcos and the Zapatista Army of National Liberation quoted in Farmer).
Privileged people are also often socialized to spread some of our wealth by giving to others in the form of charity. Charity is so important in maintaining the status quo. It ultimately does nothing to change the system but it does make the privileged feel better about living where and how they live, seemingly eliminating some sense of guilt. As long as our society is so dependent on charity we will not reach any form of change. “The proliferation of charity contributes to our society’s failure to grapple in meaningful ways with poverty” (Janet Poppendieck quoted in Farmer). Charity is extremely dangerous by itself, but is also necessary in our terribly unjust society where people are truly suffering each and every day. So, that is why we cannot only provide charity. “Efforts toward short-range and emergency goals are not only necessary, but are also ethically valid, in order to reduce the intensity of injustice and oppression as fast as
possible, even before eliminating its sources in the fabric of societies. However, short-range efforts should not be confused with, and should not substitute for, the pursuit of the long-range goal of fundamental social change, to overcome these destructive conditions at their roots” (David Gil). The only reason short-range goals or charity would come first, is because long-range goals are just that…long. Our efforts should be simultaneously focused on short- and long-range goals and we should consider alternative approaches to charity. Consider what might happen if we focus our charity efforts in helping people get together rather than individuals get ahead. “Cuz the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house…preemptively pacified with history book history…our children still take the lie like communion” (Ani DeFranko, Serpintine).
Now What?
“We need, all of us, to become teachers, to spread information. We need to expose the motives of our political leaders, point out their connections to corporate power, show how huge profits are being made out of death and suffering.” (Howard Zinn, Just War).
I wish I had a precise plan or workbook that could outline the steps to take to achieve radical social change…but…I don’t. We just continue to fumble our way on this journey, making mistakes, learning from them, and trying it different the next time. I keep asking questions, challenging others and myself to think a little differently. I will never be satisfied if injustice still exists, but celebrate steps in the right direction. I surround myself with people who will challenge and support me. I continue to seek better ways to make change. I remind myself this is a journey and changes are not going to come easy. “Social transformations toward just and non-oppressive social orders are unlikely to come about through spontaneous brief, revolutionary events…Rather, they seem to require lengthy processes, involving counter-cultural education toward critical consciousness, initiated and sustained by social movements” (David Gil). It will
take effort, persistence, hope, and community. “It starts when you care to act, it starts when you do it again after they say no, it starts when you say We and know who you mean, and each day you mean one more” (Marge Piercy, The Low Road).
*title quote from Ani DeFranko, My IQ
Education is not real. It is an illusion.
Genocide doesn’t mean only bombs (Vietnam Addenda, Lorde)
One day / the apolitical / intellectuals
of my country / will be interrogated / by the simplest / of our people
They will be asked /what they did / when their nation died out /slowly,
like a sweet fire, / small and alone. (Apolitical Intellectuals, Castillo)
Education, the social institution known more precisely as ‘schooling’, is not real. It is an illusion. Of course, I know that bricks and mortar exist (in the schools that aren’t falling down); I know teachers talk in the front of classrooms; and, I know there is a corpus of stuff to teach we call, charitably, curriculum. These things seem real. But I want to argue they are not. They are not real to the degree that they do not accomplish the rhetoric we popularly ascribe to them: (critical) knowledge, (democratic) citizenship, equality of opportunity, etc. In the way that rhetoric does not match reality, then, I call education “an illusion.”
A former student recntly sent this link of George Carlin (who recently passed) regarding his take on education. He captures the essence of what I am about to say pretty well (but with much more colorful language ). See http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJ4SSvVbhLw&feature=related
The history of education is an interesting one (something we don’t get taught, by the way)—brimming with a legacy of injustice. Attempting to avoid the tangent of this road, I will simply encourage my dear reader to check out Clint Allison’s Present and Past and/or Joel Spring’s American Education as two excellent sources of this history. Suffice to say that today’s schools are a historical and social construction, continuing the injustice into the present and becoming slicker at the endeavor.
Not only do I mean to argue that education is an illusion in what follows. But, I also posit this argument as a way of saying that our acceptance of this illusion is literally killing our kids: intellectually, spiritually, emotionally, and, sometimes, physically. “Genocide doesn’t mean only bombs.” What we heap on our kids is nothing short of an atrocity—an atrocity with a silent citizenship (loading the gun) and bipartisan legislative support (pulling the trigger). Bang.
(Before moving on, though, I want to beg the indulgence of the reader as I will be speaking in broad generalizations about schooling, teaching, and citizenship. Of course, individuals demonstrate great resistance to the system toward which most act like sheep. I put myself and many I know in the category of resistance, though I know I also uncritically participate in the systems of oppression I seek to eradicate. This dispatch is not intended to diminish the real courage often demonstrated, nor the strides gained. Yet, it is not a stretch to argue that we/these resistors, especially where the resistance has real impact, represent extreme exceptions to the rule. As well, I do not mean to add to the critique of teachers. Much of the existing critique is bogus. And, it certainly isn’t critical; nor is it constructive. It usually amounts to scape-goating by frustrated people trying to find someone to blame for society’s ills. A female-dominated profession in a patriarchal society is as good a place as any, I guess, in their minds. Teachers are entrusted to do a great deal in our schools—definitely more than should be expected or what could be accomplished. So, I position these remarks as a constructive critique for those educators—and other cultural workers who teach through their work—who actively engage their consciousness and challenge their socialization in order to seek liberation and humanization.)
My thoughts about this topic emerged during our trip a number of times. As many of us are teachers in one capacity or another, the topic of schooling was never far from our discussions. As well, much of our work in Jamaica is tangled up in education, particularly Mrs. Kaye. I remain of a belief that education can make the kind of change we desire—that it can be an important arm of the revolution (of consciousness, of society, etc.). However, it must change drastically for this to be accomplished. The time for a ‘schooling enema’ has long since passed. We can choose to be on a path toward part of that change. Or, we can choose the path of least resistance and be part of the obstruction.
Schools reproduce economic inequality
We don’t have to dig too far beneath the surface to see what our schools are producing/selling. In fact, it is hidden in plain sight. The main purposes of schooling since the launching of Sputnik in 1957 have been economic and jingoistic. That is, the purpose of going to school is built around the prospect of future employability. And, while in school, students/consumers will be indoctrinated with the great American narrative intended to produce a rather obedient, uncritical, flag-waving patriot.
Schools are socially-reproductive mechanisms that help to replicate current socioeconomic discrepancies. [For a closer look at social reproduction in schools, see “Color the moon and glitter the stars (Part 2)”]. By this I mean, if you start school poor, you will probably end up seeking out jobs at the bottom end of the economic ladder. If you start school rich, a job at the upper end of the economic ladder will probably find you. And, middle class kids will find work on a rung somewhere in between the upper and lower end. Schools do this through methods of what they call ‘academic’ tracking. Turns out that ‘academic’ closely mirrors other social indicators like race and class. Relatively poor kids and a majority of kids of color end up in comprehensive tracks, vocational education (where it still exists), and special education. Relatively wealthy kids end up in college prep, honors, and AP tracks. You can call it ‘intelligence’, ‘discipline’, ‘hard-work’, whatever you like (or helps us sleep better), as to the reason it ends up like this. However, what informs our perception of all these ‘concepts’ is not only socially conditioned, but their ‘reality’ is based more on structural constraints rather than individual achievement/effort/ability.
Beyond tracking, standardized testing (a multi-billion dollar profit-making machine] helps assure the economic hierarchy is not upset, as federal funding is contingent upon success on standardized exams. Since students’ performance on the standardized tests is more closely linked with their parent’s income than any other indicator, guess which kids win and which kids lose this cruel game? Given that funding is tied to success on the tests (and dismissing the finding that parent’s income is the main indicator of success on the exams), schools who teach relatively poor students and/or schools comprised of a majority of kids of color endeavor to, uncritically, teach to the test, filling the kids’ heads with useless knowledge, teaching disconnected parts rather than a contextualized whole, and destroying any love of learning. Relegating kids to this kind of teaching or the lower tracks where such pedagogy is employed, graduates (supposing they weren’t pushed out somewhere along the way) are prepared for little else than low wage employment, if they are lucky to find work at all. As well, there is some fairly convincing evidence linking these kids with a future in the military (becoming front line fodder: see Wilson’s, as well as Gibson’s work, at The Rouge Forum). We also know these kids are disproportionately represented in our prison population as adults. Do we, as teachers, understand the future financial impact we have on kids when we assist the ruling class in becoming their socially-reproductive agents by legitimizing standardized testing and/or sorting kids by rigid ‘ability’ and ‘academic’ grouping?
What we learn in schools
Acknowledging that there may be something worth learning in school, I maintain that the hidden curriculum (obedience, deference to authority, punctuality, putting up with boredom, social control) is the primary purpose of schooling. Of course, this hidden curriculum changes depending upon your social class or race, most easily differentiated by tracking. Upper class kids, while still controlled receive a vastly different curriculum than kids from urban ghettoes or rural wastelands. Beyond learning to read and performing particular mathematical functions, is there any content that is absolutely necessary in school? I think there are processes that are important—procedures (like argument, deliberation, experimentation] that do something with the content, but it is fairly evident that standardized testing and most teaching evaluates regurgitation of content, not process. So, I argue, there is really little worth learning in schools today.
Returning to the hidden curriculum, there is one set of curricula that we all learn regardless of our social class (and for which school does little to help us): how to be consumers. The media, family/community, church, and school all teach us to consume (rather uncritically). The messages and the evidence are everywhere. Advertising has polluted every public space. Moreover, the competition moves in from all sides—whether it is for our brand loyalty, our favorite professional sports team, our particular religion (or shade of religion: Lutheran or Baptist, Shiite or Sunni, etc.), our school (public or private, Mercy or Assumption, Elder of St. X). We are taught to consume, to consume well, and to consume often, to our ultimate peril (as the average family maintains an obscene debt load).
This type of consumption and competition for our consumer identities is central to the project of Capitalism. In Capitalism, everything is for sale. Everything is a commodity. It seems ridiculous, but the system renders in rational. In a recent article in Cultural Logic, Patrick Shannon provides some of the most coherent and comprehensive definitions of Marxist terms aimed at critiquing Capitalism. Shannon argues, “Rationalization, then, treats human beings as variables to be manipulated along with materials, time, and space to ensure predictable products and profits from material, ideational or social manufacturing.” Providing a nice connection to standardized testing and scripted curricula noted above, he further asserts,
“The conditions of life in contemporary elementary schools provide an example of this rationalization process. The justification for scripted lessons and high stakes testing is the logic of production. Scripts provide the division of function with teachers becoming factors in the implementation of the curricular designs of others; they fix the actions of teachers across classroom, schools, and districts; and they synchronize the actions of teachers and students toward the abstracted exchange value of student test scores. These scores now define teachers' success, become students' cultural capital, legitimize administrators' plans, and raise property values in communities. Using science as the objective and impersonal logic behind the rationalization of reading instruction in elementary schools, the entire process appears natural and inevitable. Inside the logic of rationalized reading programs it makes sense to follow the scripts in order to increase the chances of higher test scores, and few inside or outside of elementary schools object to the rationalization of reading instruction. Those that do object are dismissed as irrational or political.”
This process is not naturally accomplished. It takes mechanisms to pit us against each other, to divide ourselves, to believe our labor is a commodity for someone else’s profit, to desire things that can bring us ultimately no pleasure, no joy. This process is called alienation. It is worth quoting Shannon at length, once again, as he continues to flesh out the standardization and scripted curricula example:
“Alienation is the process of separation between people and some quality assumed to be related to them in natural circumstances. This process can be consciously recognized (subjective alienation) or be beyond the control of the individual (objective alienation). If you begin with the assumption that reading, teaching and learning are human processes, which are natural qualities of teachers and students, then, the rationalization of reading instruction requires both types of alienation. The script's standardization of teachers' actions requires that the totality of teaching someone to read is "divided, fixated and synchronized," objectively separating teachers from teaching reading. The definition of learning as test scores separates students from the totality of their learning. Reducing teachers and students to factors in the scripted system of test score production requires that they lose, at least officially, emotional, cultural, and social attachments to the process of teaching and learning and to each other. Such detachments demand a subjective separation of teachers from teaching and students from learning. This does not mean that alienated teachers are uncaring or that alienated students lack engagement. Rather it means that the nature of that engagement is subsumed under the process of rationalization and the possibilities of teaching and learning are artificially directed and severely restricted.”
We could make similar connections to mathematics, of course. But, we can also make connections outside of teaching, too. All workers in a Capitalist system experience this alienation—where our work is less about intrinsic meaning for ourselves, but profit for someone else. We seek competitive advantages (those of us that can) through specialization (which further disconnects us as we lose site of the whole as we get more particular). Additionally, this specialization often creates efficiency (i.e., more profit for the ruling party). We also experience a subsequent loss of agency, becoming convinced that nothing can be done to change the system since we know little about it (given the focus on our specializations). Since the world can’t be changed, then, and our work no longer provides meaning for our lives, we need something to replace that power and meaning. Reenter commodities. Marx called it the “fetishization of commodities.” Shannon explains it this way:
“…[C]apitalism organizes production in such a way to reduce costs of production to a minimum (in order to maximize profits). This profit motive impels capitalist manufacturers to rationalize production -- seeking a division of labor -- a historically specific method of reducing individualized and differentiated work into routine and regular acts, creating new efficiencies. . . . Under capitalism, even labor becomes a commodity -- a thing that individuals possess, develop, and sell in order to survive, and perhaps, thrive. Despite their simple appearance as objects, commodities represent all these invisible social relationships.
“Marx called the invisibility of these relationships the fetishism of commodities. By this he meant that we lose sight of the social character of commodities and act as if the physical properties of the commodity command a price. Many, even some economists, believe that the thing itself has the power to establish an object's price and to be productive, and not the human labor or the social construction of exchange value. . . .Capitalism's moral character is based on this fetishism of commodities -- this distortion of reality to make profit off of the work of others.
“The confusion between this social right and the physical reality of productivity -- a central part of the fetishism -- obscures the workings of capitalism from public view. It appears that the things are being remunerated with profits for their contribution and not their owners who are accumulating profits. In a sense, however, the transfer is an act of stealing. . . .Through their research, economists endeavor to understand the nature of the system and to make its social and personal values seem natural and inevitable among all citizens. With government and science behind it, capitalism projects the illusion that it is the natural state of civilization which we must preserve at all costs -- James Madison's interpretation of that famous phrase "the pursuit of happiness." Once environment, capital, and labor are transformed into commodities and those commodities are fetishized, all opportunities for subversive interpretations of the system disappear.
“At a cultural level, commodities represent the values of their manufacturers (Schor, 2000). The thing for sale is an embodiment of not only the generalized values of capitalism, but also of what manufacturers want in the world and how they wish to live with others. Manufacturers produce commodities for profit, of course, but also enter production to make the world better (according to their vision of better). This may seem hard to accept with so many apparently cynical commodities on the market (chocolate cereals, hand guns, cigarettes, Elvis statues). Yet, cereal manufacturers point to the importance of choice in the development of individuals and to the aid that they bring to parents who struggle to get their children to eat breakfast. Hand gun producers trot out the second and fourth amendments to the U. S. Constitution as their moral justification. Each commodity expresses its manufacturer's commitment to freedom of choice, to quality of life, and to an ideal of how the world should work (Lear, 1994).”
So, our labor and the products we create are fashioned as commodities to be priced, sold, and bought. Our labor is specialized and disconnected, distancing ourselves from the final product and any sense of intrinsic value in what we do. Our work lives are rendered valueless in the process. So, to replace human value, we replace this with ‘things’ that some ‘other’ has created and for which some ‘one’ has profited. This is the system and logic of capital. This is the dehumanizing game we play.
Schools of education are enemy number one
In an attempt to throw myself under the bus, I argue that schools of education are one of the main reproductive mechanisms of the status quo and do little (if anything) to train teachers for how to change society. This is not surprising since teacher educators are no more trained in how to change society (beginning with a critique of Capitalism) than anyone else. As well, teacher education is a female dominated profession training a future dominated workforce in our patriarchal society. In many ways, we become a convenient scapegoat.
That said, it does not excuse the relative power we could exercise given our positions in universities with tenure. We appropriately embody Saul Alinsky’s concept of the ‘do-nothings’: "[They] profess a commitment to social change for ideals of justice, equality, and opportunity, and then abstain from and discourage all effective action for change."
Similar to the dearth of what we actually learn in school (the content), schools of education also offer a menu of rather banal and vacuous course offerings that are either impractical to what actually happens in schools or, more likely, offers no roadmap or example for how to change what is going on. From classroom management courses to curriculum to assessment to technology, little is offered that won’t be relearned on the job. And, again, schools of education (painting with pretty broad brush strokes here) will offer little in the way of resisting the dehumanizing trends in schools that they will rail against from their lecturns/pulpits. Succumbing to the marketplace themselves (NCATE, ETS, textbook manufacturers, etc.), teacher educators are the worst type of model—claiming their allegiance to social justice, doing nothing of value about it, but encouraging others to go out and do the work. Milton and I could regale you with stories locally and nationally. (Perhaps we ought not do it in writing, though.)
So, I am a teacher, what do I do? (Or, so I teach in a school of education, am I just screwed? Or, I don’t teach, can I not be part of the revolutionary change? )
Again, there are people resisting this. There are teachers, if given the lower tracks, who do better by their students than simply delivering scripted curricula intended to boost standardized test scores. There are teacher educators who are becoming conscious and engaging in radical activities to subvert the status quo. There are people I work closely with in the PrESS Network. There are people that traveled to Jamaica with Gina and I this year. The fact remains, though, that kids relegated to these lower tracks, special education, or poor schools are simply not going to compete at a high level in the economic marketplace. Capitalism sees to it that they can’t. So, while we may help one kid get ahead—that’s just one more player in the game, as the late Sekou Sundiata noted in his 2007 address at the Pedagogy and Theater of the Oppressed Conference. The goal, in his mind (and mine and others) is to fundamentally change the game. I was a beneficiary of this game, since I had the appropriate cultural capital to excel at it. As a teacher, I also helped a few people navigate this game, but I did much more of maintaining the status quo. I definitely didn’t change the game, then. I was only coming to consciousness when I left that game. This process, of which I am still a part, is one that many of you find yourself engaging. It is not a comfortable place. It shouldn’t be, frankly. Yet, we have to live. We have to act in the world, not live in our heads. Once theory becomes action, it is imperfect. It rarely has the impact intended. That doesn’t make it bad, though. If we act with consciousness, we will reflect, and act again (with greater consciousness.) The purpose of these dispatches is to help us continue to engage this process by connecting theoretical and historical dots toward more revolutionary action, which begins with revolutionary thought—a belief that things can, things will, change. And, they will change because I/we will enter the transformative process. I/We will embody the change. Through me/us, others will change.
So, let’s get practical.
(1) Teachers, as Gibson notes in his address at the Rouge Forum, 2008, are centripetally-located, right at the choke point of the system of capital. Schools:
• offer a multibillion dollar marketplace of profit
• provide a baby-sitting, warehousing mechanism
• fashion hope—whether real or false
• supply skill and ideological training, and
• schools create the next generation of the army, workforce, and, quite frankly, the prison yard (where 1 out of every 100 people is imprisoned in our country)
We can really f things up if we collectively organize. What small scale organizational activities can we take up, and act upon, that may provide courage for larger organizational efforts? Or, how might our organization inspire others to organize? How can those of us with the most protection (tenure, years of experience, etc.) take the first steps to lay the path for other to follow? How can we connect our organizational efforts with those whom we profess to serve? Relationships. Connections. Community. Build the network. Create alliances to challenge power. The PrESS Network. The Rouge Forum. Marxist/Feminist/Anti-racist reading groups. Professional learning communities in our schools. In our workplaces. In our neighborhoods. Do we know who we are going to be in solidarity with when the economy crashes and/or when the oppressed find their footing and right the wrongs of the past? Is it worth considering where we will live, how we will eat, how we will financially support each other, how we will get around (considerations that most of the world has to deal with daily, but that we have the luxury to put off to the future)?
(2) We can become conscious. We can end our collusion and unconscious complicity with the capitalist system (and other systems of patriarchy, racism, heterosexism, nationalism, etc.). “It is not a matter of ‘struggling for others,’ which suggests paternalism and reformist objectives, but rather of becoming aware of oneself as not completely fulfilled and as living in an alienated society. And, thus, one can identify radically and militantly with those who bear the brunt of oppression” (Gutierrez, p. 82). How can we be sure to carry on this process of self-awareness in a system that endeavors to alienate us from ourselves? How can we be constructively critical without beating ourselves up? How can we seek the patience toward which Gina calls us? How can we understand yet attempt to move beyond our imperfect actions? Praxis. Language. Lens-crafting. Can we commit to spending time on our consciousness rather than the petty distractions set up to keep us from what is real and just? What will that look like? How can we hold ourselves accountable? What should we read? How should we talk about it? How can we talk about it with others (that is, drawing the circle large enough to invite others in)?
(3) We can choose to become political agents and we can hope—have a voice and be visible. At some point, we will have to muster the courage regardless of our position—as student, as teacher, as professor, as social worker, as physical therapist—to do something. We have no choice, as Lara urges, but to choose justice, to choose right over wrong, to choose what is moral and ethical based on consciousness. Gutierrez calls it social praxis: “Social praxis makes demands which may seem difficult or disturbing to those who wish to achieve—or maintain—a low-cost conciliation. Such a conciliation can be only a justifying ideology, a device for the few to keep living off the poverty of the many” (Gutierrez, p. 31). Indeed, we need a public education, but not the public indoctrination that we have going on in schools. That is, we need to end the practice of current public education while preserving its promising potential. And, we won’t know what we can rebuild until we get rid of what we have—the revolution is dialectical—built in the experience, not as a result of it. All of us will have to step up to end it. Leave our safe harbors. Have hope. Decipher the irrational from the rational. Understand the social constructedness of what is before us. It is not natural. It is designed by the ruling class and kept in place through the unconsciousness of the middle class and the oppression of the poor class. Break the silence. Demand more from your teachers. Demand more from your fellow students. Practice your voice, as Milton encourages, and be visible.
Shannon is instructive once again: “Each commodity that we encounter, then, can teach us about capitalism as a socially constructed, historical system of production. There is nothing eternal or natural about capitalism (although there are universals within it and a recognizable order to its system). When we consider "commodification" -- the transformation of practices, things and ideas into things for sale -- we must remember its social construction, and not just dwell only upon the immediate appearance and illusion of the new commodity created. The values directing each transformation include the central role of profits in the structures and practices of our daily life, the rights of owners of the means of production to all the profits from commodity exchange, the notion that laborers must be alienated from their work in order to achieve the highest exchange-value for commodities, and the fact that any thing, one, practice or idea can become a commodity.”
Castillo concludes Apolitical Intellectuals by observing, “A vulture of silence / will eat your gut. / Your own misery / will pick at your soul. / And you will be mute / in your shame. We can stave off the vulture. But, only if we act in community, with consciousness, and with courage. We can create a new humanity. We can create a new society.
“Only a radical break from the status quo, that is, a profound transformation of the private property system, access to power of the exploited class, and a social revolution that would break this dependence would allow for a new society” (Gutierrez, p. 17). Our present educational system does not give us this. It is only an illusion. Let’s take the power back.
can one fail a test before one takes it?
well, milton, i think it depends upon the test... and what one has to do to take it.
if we're talking about the standardized bullshit testing that occurs in our schools today, then i don't think that the kids themselves can fail before they take it. but the society that has created the test has essentially ensured that the kids will fail. so we know they kids will fail even though we build them up, stress them out over something that means nothing, and make them feel stupid when they don't perform as their teachers wanted them to. (and teachers rarely believe that their students will do well, but they talk the talk because it's the system's expectation.)
so, i suppose, in that sense, that, yes, maybe you can fail a test before you take it-- but you still have to take the test, don't you?
Here is food for thought. I thought about claiming a social studies position at another school but upon meeting with the principal (well meeting might not be the most correct word), he informed me that I wouldn't be a good fit for his school because my students did not score well on the three ThinkLink (practice CATS test) given throughout the year. The fact that half of my students scored novice proves that I am an ineffective educator that is running from the responsibility for the poor CATS test that will assuredly follow these pathetic ThinkLink scores. Now fully aware of my ineptness, laugh, I KNOW that teachers can fail the test even BEFORE it is taken.
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