Capitalism

Capitalism is the only politico-economic system based on the doctrine of individual rights. Advocates of it say that in allowing each individual to act unhampered by government regulations, capitalism causes wealth to be created in the most efficient manner possible which ultimately raises the standard of living, increases economic opportunities, and makes available an ever growing supply of products for everyone. Thus, under capitalism, the individual's pursuit of his own economic self-interest simultaneously benefits the economic self-interests of all others. In other words, as the rich become richer, the poor become richer- at least in theory.

Proponents of this system understandably hold to the belief that capitalism is not a system which exploits a large portion of society for the sake of a small minority of wealthy capitalists (economic elitism). In fact, they maintain that capitalism is the complete embodiment of social justice. In a social or political context justice means that every person gets no more, and no less, than what he gains through voluntary association with other men. A capitalist society is a just society because all individuals are considered equal under the law. Capitalism recognizes that it is just for a man to keep what he has earned and that it is unjust for a man, or group of men, to have the right to what other people have earned. Since all people must live independently under capitalism, all of the material values that a person acquires must be earned. Thus, the expression of social justice under capitalism is that what a man earns is directly proportional to what he produces, with no antitrust laws or progressive income taxes stifling his achievement. All other forms of government, such as the welfare state, institutionalize injustice by legally expropriating the property of some men and giving it to others.

Many people have trouble accepting that capitalism is a just system because of the existence of economic inequality. For example, it is observed that famous celebrities and sports stars receive very large incomes for work that is perceived as trivial, and that many hard working people make incomes which pale in comparison from jobs that are perceived to be of greater benefit to society. A capitalist would reply that each of them deserves what they earn, and what they earn is the result of how much wealth each of them creates Since each man has the right to the product of his labor, it is completely just for the disparity in incomes to exist, and the only injustice to occur would be for the government to take money from the celebrity or athlete and give it to those who supposedly deserve it on the basis of their "need."

What are we to make of this? On the surface it seems reasonable. But is it just? Under capitalism, as it is currently practiced in America, selfishness on the part of the capitalist will always tend toward debt-oriented labor and economic practices making it morally wrong. The best way to understand this is to compare capitalism to communism. Communism failed, in part, because the state owned the means of production. What this really amounted to was that individuals highly placed in the Communist party actually controlled the means of production, and these individuals tended strongly toward corruption. Dissociated from his own self-interest, and dominated by the corrupt and bureaucratic apparatus of the Communist party, the average individual found himself politically powerless and poorly motivated economically, unable to enjoy the fruits of his own labor. In addition to being corrupt, the size and inertia of the state bureaucracy made for inefficiency of administration. And exacerbating all of this, a number of pathological personalities, such as Stalin and Khrushchev, rose to the top of the power structure and acted against the common good. Now let’s look at how our current version of capitalism and free enterprise mirrors this.

Ironically, capitalism has tendencies to many of the same problems as communism, though the failures are superficially different. The large corporation, which is perhaps the ultimate expression of successful capitalism, is the locus of many of the problems. Corresponding to the privileged elite of the Communist party is the privileged corporate elite. Just as the privileged elite of the Communist party rendered the political system useless for the average individual by promoting political corruption, the privileged elite of corporate capitalism has also rendered the political system useless for the average individual by promoting political corruption. Moreover, under corporate capitalism, the individual is wrongly motivated (through fear of loss of employment rather than the desire to build equity), and is unable to enjoy the fruits of his own labor, since most of the value of that labor is appropriated by the corporation in profits for a few while paying disproportionately much lower wages to its workers. Just looking at our current economic meltdown is proof enough of this. We certainly have pathological personalities at the top of the corporate power structure (along with their political cronies bought and paid for by “campaign donations”) exacerbating the situation. After extensive congressional investigations did anyone responsible go to jail? In the end who suffered the consequences for the corrupt practices of Wall Street – the CEO’s or the workers who lost their jobs and the taxpayers who footed the bill for the bailouts?

That the political and economic outcomes have been so similar under both communism and corporate capitalism should hardly be surprising, given that the underlying problem is the same in both cases: too great a concentration of ownership and control in too few hands. From the perspective of morality the problems of the two systems are also the same: neither system allows the average individual to enjoy most of the fruits of his own labor and both exploit the individual shamelessly.

Is there a better system? Stay tuned for future posts. Meantime, share your thoughts.

Frozen Tundra: A Short Story

My father died in the spring.  Six months later my mother took her two daughters on a once-in-a-lifetime cruise to Alaska.  When the trip started it was just a vacation.  When it ended it had become something else.

We are complex women, each an island unto herself.  We were unable to reach out to each other, even in response to the death of a father and a husband.  We had spent a lifetime avoiding just such emotional connections.  We each lived behind our carefully constructed facades.  We were masters of the superficial.  Our roles were so well rehearsed we could easily move from scene to scene, even a death in the family, without breaking out of character. 

My relationship with my mother had never been an easy one. My entire life I had struggled with my ambivalent feelings; I both loved her and feared her.  Even now as a grown woman, I seemed to dance around her, first advancing to attempt closeness, then retreating from the pain of her coldness.  

Thus initially I had been against the idea of this trip.  Too many past family get-togethers ripe with the promise things would be different had left me jaded and guarded.  But, I allowed myself to be persuaded.  The setting, away from our normal lives and worries, could make a difference.  The real treat, I thought, would be breaking through the surface of everything that hadn't been said over the years.  I felt a quickening, a small eagerness that seemed like a happy omen.  And it seemed to be coming true as we excitedly anticipated what each day would bring in this strange new world. 

Alaska is stunningly beautiful, but it was also intimidating with vast stretches of undisturbed wilderness and huge glaciers.  Cruising along the Inland Passage, we passed mind-boggling stretches of dense, pristine forests where wildlife abounded: brown and black bear, moose, Dall sheep, caribou, foxes, wolves, eagles and waterfowl.  These icy waters are home to whales, porpoises, sea lions, and seals.

So much of this state is accessible only by boat or air. Looking at this landscape, the first thing that struck me was the sense of isolation, this was part of the allure for those rugged individualists who wanted to carve a life out for themselves with their bare hands.  It also made me remember something deep inside I thought I'd forgotten.  It's harder to talk about the feeling a certain place has on your soul than it is to feel the tears in your eyes when you see it.  This place awakened in me loneliness so profound it literally took my breath away.  I think it was born from a lifelong sense of abandonment in my family- a wound that had become, over the years, my identity.

Less than less than half a million people live here, making Alaska among the states with the fewest residents.  It has other features too which make it inhospitable in my mind.  The cold, pale winter sun shines for a minimum of five and a half hours each day, closer to the Artic Circle that number drops to only two hours of twilight each .  Permafrost- permanently frozen ground- lies under much of Alaska, and it has places with more precipitation than anywhere in the other forty-eight contiguous states.  None of these features make life here appealing to me, despite the incredible beauty.

After sailing through the night, we approached the first glaciers in the clear early morning light.  Glacier Bay is a spectacular example of what nature has carved over the centuries.  Glacial rivers have retreated, exposing numerous inlets in a bay up to sixty-five miles long.  Spilling down between lofty mountains, sixteen sapphire blue tidewater glaciers plunge into azure, ice-choked fjords.  We stood spellbound at the ship's rail as we watched one of nature's most spectacular performances.  Standing with eyes transfixed by an icy blue wall, all our senses alert, we waited for the telltale crack to shoot like a thunderbolt through the ice.  Then, as if in slow motion, we watched an iceberg ten stories tall break free and slide into the frigid depths below.  Anyone who has witnessed a calving glacier knows that for one brief moment they have become part of something infinitely larger than themselves.  Perhaps this trip would be a breaking free for the three of us; a shedding of old identities carved out for us by years of conformity, habit and self-protection. 

Life aboard ship was an adventure too. Our staterooms were roomy and comfortable, the main dining room opulent with crystal chandeliers and fine china settings.  The food was delicious and copious, often with seven-course meals.  But we had brought along an old familiar family gremlin of discontent. 

We had assigned seating and the cruise line had gone to some trouble to match up compatible tablemates, as much as was possible.  At our table were a husband and wife in their forties and the husband’s elderly mother. What could be more perfect?  Trouble began when our mother, who could not hear well and disliked using her hearing aide, decided it was easier for her to just tune everyone out and make no attempt to join in the conversation.  My sister and I tried to carry the ball, but we could not help noticing the looks that passed across the table when questions addressed to our mother went unanswered or when she would sit through the entire meal with an angry, mean expression on her face. 

For better or worse, my sister and I decided to address the situation later that evening with our mother in our stateroom.  We exhibited a sustained resolve, despite our mother's cold opposition that was like a natural force. 

"You girls analyze things too much," she said. 

She hated the idea of us talking about her, probably because she knew that we always did,  couldn't help it, couldn't stop it.  We voiced our concern that she appeared unfriendly to these seemingly nice people, who apparently would be our tablemates throughout the cruise.  We started out saying we felt uncomfortable with her lack of graciousness at dinner.

"Do I embarrass you?" she sarcastically replied. 

Perhaps she was unaware of how she was coming across?  We gave her examples of body language, facial expressions and tone of voice. 

"What do I care what they think of me," she angrily snapped. 

Then she pushed herself up from her chair and lumbered off to her own stateroom. 

"This is ridiculous," I said in disgust. 

Our mother's pride, always touchy, had been injured to the quick.  We had shamed her.  The alternative, of course, was to allow her to shame us.  No use telling her that we had raised this so she would not be perceived in a bad light.  Or that we wanted mealtimes to be pleasant for us all, not times we would dread with a tightening in the gut. 

We both knew something important just happened, and what it was too.  We had spoken as women, equal with her, and not as daughters.  That was something, I realized later, that we were always pretty careful never to do.  This was a monumental step for us to have taken; we had planted our flag of independence.  Perhaps this was the beginning of a thaw to the frozen tundra of our family's code of silence that kept each of us trapped in our assigned roles for life.