A nice little piece by Susannah Black about the Crumpled Press, publisher of the Staten Island book. “Trading efficiency for loveliness.”
More Crumpled Press Press.
03-Feb-11Winter, winter, winter.
03-Feb-11Michael Pollan Meets Tea Party.
03-Feb-11A nice task for the Republican Congress looking to cut waste. Mark Bittman says overhaul our agricultural subsidy system:
End government subsidies to processed food. We grow more corn for livestock and cars than for humans, and it’s subsidized by more than $3 billion annually; most of it is processed beyond recognition. The story is similar for other crops, including soy: 98 percent of soybean meal becomes livestock feed, while most soybean oil is used in processed foods. Meanwhile, the marketers of the junk food made from these crops receive tax write-offs for the costs of promoting their wares. Total agricultural subsidies in 2009 were around $16 billion, which would pay for a great many of the ideas that follow.
This is part of a “food manifesto” in which he attempts a realignment of government policy with advances in our understanding of food. Many of the curiosities of the American food market – such as the fact that meat is cheap relative to vegetables, despite the fact that all the meat produced is made essentially from vegetables, or the ubiquity of corn and soy in our processed foods – may be traced directly to market distortions created by U.S. government policy. It’s one way the tea partyists could actually make the country healthier, wealthier, and wiser, merely by cutting government spending. On the other hand, it would mean cutting subsidies directed largely at red states. We’ll see what happens.
The timeless iteration of these principles is by Wendell Berry; and a nice tribute to Berry by Michael Pollan is here.
The Middle Class.
03-Feb-11Teapartiers and Ron Paul types talk of a minimalist government whose sole function is the protection of basic rights; everything else, they say, is not a concern of government. But all governments throughout history have had another role, which is not protective so much as promotive: government favors some things and cultivates them. This is because government is above all an expression of culture; even its protective powers are not coherent without a culture to inform it what to protect. The U.S. constitution empowers the government to protect (and promote) trade, by involving itself in such things as currency; the Spartan constitution banned currency to protect virtue, which it conceived as a militaristic indifference to wealth and comforts. The promotive aspect of government is inherent and cannot be abolished: by having a place to meet, a deliberative body must promote some form of life over another: it can meet under an oak tree, in a hotel conference center, or in a grand beaux-arts marble edifice; or it can not meet and not debate at all; each indicates the form of the culture.
Our government is involved in any number of things, preeminently trade, but also scientific research, education, marriage, the postal system and now the internet, the arts, and so forth, which are indicative of the values of the supporting culture. All of these are identified by their supporters as basic rights, because that is the traditional justification in our society for something we want the government to support. So you will hear talk of “the right to an education,” “the right to marriage,” “the right to art,” and now “the right to the internet.” This line of thinking is not really coherent, but then again, no line of thinking is. It makes more sense when the word “right” is construed as “something I believe all people should have if they want it.” And yes, this means that people will continue to talk about “the right to fashion” and the right to anything else they really really like.
This is a necessary prism for understanding the political divide in the United States today. The Republican party consistently uses language pretending that government has no promotive role in society when they attack social entitlement programs and progressive taxation. Yet they certainly believe in government’s role when it comes to promoting business. This is a cultural question: the culture they want promotes trade, and distributes increasing amounts of economic power (i.e., money) to fewer people. This is to them one of the virtues of our culture: that it rewards certain types of men with fabulous wealth. It is the culture of the game Monopoly: the game reaches its successful conclusion when one person has bankrupted all competitors and stands alone.
The opposite view can be found in a nice little piece by Matthew Yglesias, in which he gives an account of his principles. The principles themselves:
On economic policy, here are the main things I’m trying to accomplish:
— More redistribution of money from the top to the bottom.
— A less paternalistic welfare state that puts more money directly in the hands of the recipients of social services.
— Macroeconomic stabilization policy that seriously aims for full employment.
— Curb the regulatory privileges of incumbent landowners.
— Roll back subsidies implicit in our current automobile/housing-oriented industrial policy.
— Break the licensing cartels that deny opportunity to the unskilled.
— Much greater equalization of opportunities in K-12 education.
— Reduction of the rents assembled by privileged intellectual property owners.
— Throughout the public sector, concerted reform aimed at ensuring public services are public services and not jobs programs.
— Taxation of polluters (and resource-extractors more generally) rather than current de facto subsidization of resource extraction.
This has not altered much from FDR and Frank Capra days, with the exception of the last, which indicates a new environmental awareness of the sustainability concept.
I agree with almost all these principles, and will note in particular his first, that of moving wealth from the top downward. We are in the midst of a worldwide upward wealth redistribution, which is worst in all the countries under strong American influence. And this pattern does not make for either justice or stability. Egypt, for example, has done what our economists have told it to do, and has seen what counts as fine economic growth: 6% this past year, 5% for the two years before, and 7% each of the three previous years. The problem was that it was Republican-style growth: growth consumed entirely by the wealthy, which had no impact on the bottom four quintiles and no impact on unemployment. Forty percent of Egyptians already live on less than two dollars a day, and two-thirds of Egyptians are under 30.
Along this vein is Tom Robbin’s l’envoi from the Village Voice. He provides a graph (slightly misleading as is the custom now in all respectable publications; the chart does not start at 0 but around 5%) showing how much income the top 1% of our country controls. It’s a shame he didn’t discuss wealth, which is far more skewed than income is. But this will do:
The numbers on the chart show that nationally, America’s top earners are now taking in 24 percent of the income, back to where they were just before their gluttony crashed Wall Street in 1929. But they are pikers compared to New York. Our state’s most privileged class holds 35 percent of the dough. Here in the city, the fat cats do even better, with a whopping 44 percent. This is why New York State ranks last in terms of the income gap between rich and poor. And it is why New York City is the most polarized of the nation’s 25 biggest urban areas.
“If New York City were a nation,” reports James Parrott, economist for the institute, “its level of income concentration would rank 15th worst among 134 countries, between Chileand Honduras. Wall Street,” he adds, “with its stratospheric profits and bonuses, sits within 15 miles of the Bronx—the nation’s poorest urban county.”
Supporting the middle class, George Bailey-style, both personally and by proxy in the government, strikes me as good policy, for a lot of reasons. Not only because my religion teaches that “he who has two tunics must share with him who has none,” not only because it teaches that at the gates of heaven the rich will be judged by the poor, but also because it’s the kind of culture and country I believe in.
Petrified Song.
01-Feb-11A strange couplet quoted by Kerouac and ascribed to Mountain Man Jim Bridger:
“I saw a petrified bird in a petrified tree,
Singing his petrified song.”
It reminds me of the parody of Vergil – the complete text of which I cannot find – by Charles Perrault. It is quoted by Dostoevsky in the The Brothers Karamazov:
J’apercus l’ombre d’un cocher
Qui, tenant l’ombre d’une brosse
Nettoyait l’ombre d’un carrosse.
Ever so slightly altered by Dostoevsky:
J’ai vu l’ombre d’un cocher
Qui avec l’ombre d’une brosse
Frottait l’ombre d’une carrosse.
“I saw the shadow of a coachman who with the shadow of a brush was cleaning the shadow of a coach.”
There are a lot of reasons why this works well as parody, not least of which is the incongruity of Aeneas finding 17th century coaches and coachmen in the underworld.
Changing Concepts.
01-Feb-11
Click for a closer look. Honor, like other personal concepts, adapts to a more economic conception of man, and is mostly subsumed in the word professionalism. From Google’s interesting ngram viewer.
Fritz Lang at the Film Forum.
29-Jan-11After suffering from a bit of the blahs, due to missing my cabin and spending a bit too much time in the distracted city, I’ve regained my appreciation – for whatever reason – for the texture of city life again. Yesterday a friend lured me away from a successful day of writing to go to the movies. I took the J to the Lower East Side and waited at Essex Street for either the F or the M – which go the same place but there run on two different tracks. I came to a tacit and utterly simple and beautiful understanding with a Hispanic woman who was also waiting for either train. She was watching the M platform from a stairwell, and listening for the F. I took up a spot where I could see the F platform, and also see her. We smiled at each other indicating that we had the situation covered. The M came first, she inclined her head, and I went her way.
Walking down Houston Street there were vast deep puddles at fully fifty percent of the streetcorners, causing no end of consternation to the elderly, the prissy, and the fashionably shod. It was pleasant to find so much grexing at the corners, I enjoyed seeing how everyone took it. Then I arrived at the Film Forum. They don’t take reservations for double features, so people were all steaming there as quickly as they could to make sure they got tickets. It was Friday night and everyone was in their dressed-up winter clothes. I got the tickets and waited for my friend, who I was happy to see. We sat through two Fritz Lang movies – our first ever double-feature. Twelve-fifty for four hours of entertainment, who can beat that?
The films, The Big Heat and Human Desire, were part of a “Fritz Lang in Hollywood” retrospective. They were not necessarily profound movies, but they were brusque and forceful. I had been reading The Decameron on the trip in and I was struck by the resemblance. Boccaccio is not deep either: but he offers all the pleasure of real story, where death, murder, revenge, adultery, betrayal, and horror are merely expected elements of anything life-sized.
The first movie, The Big Heat, was a straight-up Noir about a good cop taking on a corrupt system, disgusted by the “rabbits” who care only for their personal material benefit. All are punished accordingly – those with integrity for their integrity, those without it for their lack of it. (Lang it is said was deeply influenced by his Catholicism). I am always impressed by good Noir movies: the crisp dialogue, the bizarre lighting and expressionist tableaux, and the incredibly fast-moving plots. I remember a film critic lamenting how Star Wars changed the pacing of movies, an utterly bogus claim when you see how these Noir films piled up bodies, affairs, and betrayals one after another over the course of ninety minutes or so. The plots are incredibly difficult to recount later because of their speed and complexity.
The second movie, Human Desire, was based on a Zola novel and was far simpler in conception, being the story of a woman and three men: her former lover, her husband, and her new lover whom she attempts to use to rid herself of her husband. But the emotions – though dealt with quickly – are complex. The wife’s current lover is an odd display of human psychology: he has just gotten back from Korea and is working his old job again, and he states that after watching people kill each other in war now all he wants is peace and quiet – to work at his job and to go fishing. He finds a young girl utterly willing to give him a happy version of that life, but he instead chooses to involve himself with the far more intriguing married woman. The wife’s psychology is a thing of note as well: at the end of the movie she notes how much she respected her former lover who treated her as a convenient whore: “If I were a man I would have done exactly the same thing to a woman like me. I respected him for it.”
I’m certainly hoping to catch another double-feature before the run is done. And Lang is the director of the movie Metropolis, which I have never seen – it’s not in this run – but came through the Ziegfeld just this past fall. Doing an image search gives a sampling of its unusual and evocative visual language.
In the Valley of the Shmoon.
28-Jan-11Came across this unintelligible passage in Kerouac’s journals:
There is a dynamic philosophy behind the Progress of the 20th century, but we need to reach the depths of a Static Metaphysical Admission – a Manifesto of Confessions – as well, or the dynamics will just explode out of control like Kafka’s penal machine. Perhaps something like this should happen: after the age of five, every human being should become a shmoo and feed the little ones; shmoos with wings like guardian angels.
There should be no great shmoos to kick Good Old Gus across the valley. This is not the Lamb, not peace. Even Good Old Gus, at his depths, is standing alone weeping on the plain looking around for confirmation of his tears; and his vanity is his evil. Dostoevsky knew that even about Father Karamazov. (194)
What jumped out at me was the word “shmoo.” When I was a child we used this word to describe a very unusual Christmas tree ornament we had, which looked like a stereotypical alien – smooth skin, large white eyes, nostrils for nose, three fingers – but with white ghostly skin in place of green or blue skin. This alien creature was dressed in pink overalls and a pink Santa cap. No one knew where it came from – it was just one of the tree ornaments, and its name was the Shmoo. I think we presumed we made the word up somehow.
So seeing Kerouac use the word – as a word that had some kind of self-sacrificial meaning, no less – was a surprise, to say the least. It had been a long time since I had thought of the word. Ends up that the shmoo was a creation of cartoonist Al Capp, with strange mythical and allegorical overtones, to which Kerouac is here referring. The plasticity of the shmoo concept made it both controversial and wildly commercially successful.
Goldwynism.
28-Jan-11“Anyone who goes to a psychiatrist needs to have his head examined.” – Sam Goldwyn.
Stuff like this gives me no end of delight.

Ugh.
04-Feb-11This kind of stuff gets my inner Robespierre rolling. $70 billion? This is an estimate, of course, but apparently it’s a good enough estimate to make the news. With all due respect to Christopher Hitchens’ intellect, the universe is not rationally coherent unless it finds some way to avenge itself in some horrible way on men like this. The stories of Egyptian poverty are as notorious as any in the world: one of the stories seared into my head is Christians there sorting through mounds of garbage, living off the country’s leavings. And this:
Allowing for exaggeration – one million families in quite a lot where family size is not small – there shouldn’t be anyone living in graves. Not while their leader is shopping in Soho. And certainly not while we’re paying their leader to do so.