A few days ago, I submitted my tax documents to the various government agencies that require them. For me, as for many others I’m sure, this process was fraught and scary. It was fraught because I reject the legitimacy of taxation and most of the uses to which the various government agencies put my accumulated abstract labor (i.e. money). It was fraught also because many of my friends support taxation whole-heartedly, and more or less everyone submits to it as an unavoidable evil – much like searches at the airport. The process was scary because I realized I owed more than $1200. I only made a little more than $16,000 last year, working as a part-time instructor at a regional campus of the Indiana University system. I have no idea how I will come up with this money and I fear the networked bureaucracy that will likely attempt to extort a great deal more.

One of the interesting paradoxes of our present political climate is that many people on the left support taxation. Presently, front organizations of the Democratic Party are holding rallies across the US in support of the “Buffett Rule,” initially proposed by billionaire Warren Buffett and endorsed by President Obama as part of his re-election campaign. The rule would apply a 30% tax rate to anyone making over $1 million/year. It seems to me that many well-meaning people show up at these rallies believing that, in doing so, they are supporting public services and the workers who provide them. I find this situation puzzling and those who rally misguided.

To be clear, it is not surprising that reformists support taxation – whether of billionaires or ordinary folks. From their standpoint, taxation serves to rectify some of the excesses that are built into capitalism. For reformist supporters of taxation, the problem isn’t the system of capitalism itself but its abuse by greedy individuals who seek personal gain over the common good. It takes a little from everyone to insure that everyone has access to some fundamental public goods – the more you have the more it takes. I believe that these people are misguided in their thinking about the issue, but our disagreement runs deep. Plus, as I said, their views are not surprising.

What I do find surprising is that such measures receive the support of people who identify themselves as anti-capitalists. From Karl Marx to Emma Goldman, radical anti-capitalists have never believed that existing governmental organizations could be used in this fashion. Marx himself understood that existing “democracies” serve what he called the “dictatorship of the bourgeoisie.” What he meant by this is relatively simple: despite their frequent claims to allow everyone a voice and to treat all people equally, capitalist societies are truly controlled by the owner class. For example, paying no heed to public outrage and massive protests both Democrats and Republicans supported the massive bailout of banks and other financial institutions in 2008. Of course, this is only one egregious example. The truth is that nearly every government institution exists to serve the will of the owner class. This is hardly surprising if you consider that in 2008 nearly 2/3 of the US Senate were millionaires.

It seems to me that there are two principle arguments from the left in favor of taxation: (1) Taxation is a means of redistributing wealth and (2) policies focused on taxing the wealthy and redistributing their wealth serve the strategic aim of heightening class consciousness. Regarding the first, it’s simply false. Insofar as taxation amounts to a redistribution of wealth, it serves the same purpose now as it did in the days of lords and kings – to take the fruits from those who work and give them to those who own. Mitt Romney’s revelation recently that he paid less than 15% in taxes on income from capital gains should illustrate the point well enough. Federal and state governments subsidize his various enterprises well beyond this limited figure, while he reaps the surplus value produced by workers under his employ. This case is not limited; it’s the norm. Perhaps the most egregious expression of this dynamic is the US war machine. Ordinary people pay taxes so that contractors can win outlandish contracts to murder people all over the world – ultimately, of course, to subsidize various capitalist enterprises (the most obvious of which being weapons manufacture). The rightwing idea that the worker is put upon by moochers has an element of truth – except the moochers tend to live in mansions, play tennis, and wear suits.

What about the argument based on strategy, though? Does it not heighten class consciousness to demand that the wealthy pay their fair share to support public goods? First, it’s questionable from the outset whether allying with reformist elites could ever serve radical ends. Rather, reformist elites consistently co-opt energy from radical political movements to achieve narrow political gains – which from any rational standpoint are themselves policy failures. We refer to them as “opportunists” for a reason. Here, one can take the healthcare debate as an example. The groundswell of support for universal healthcare – itself a half-measure – was co-opted to achieve a massive give-away to insurance companies. Democrats congratulate themselves on another fine victory. Meanwhile, there are no significant strategic gains for radical movements. Worse yet, and here’s the real issue, the working class is betrayed (again!) by those who believe they know better. They were supposed to get health insurance, but instead they got fines. Finally, many working class people already oppose taxation in the abstract and very few people find it an enjoyable experience. In short, precisely a campaign against taxation would be an easy strategic target for left challenges to the State and the dictatorship of the bourgeoisie.

Now, some will argue that I have overlooked all the important public goods paid for by taxes and all the services they provide to the poor and working class. In the first place, we should dispel the mystification produced by money. Those services are provided by the workers who build bridges, teach classes, and staff libraries – not pieces of paper. The real issue is how we can work together cooperatively to meet all of our needs. And I’m almost certain that extorting labor from some workers to provide the necessities for other workers is exploitative, inefficient, and alienating. Indeed, that’s actually how the whole system works. At the end of the day, we should be honest with ourselves: in capitalist society profit triumphs over all. Any institution or organization that does not serve profit will be dismantled. This means that while fire hydrants and bridges may appear to be “public” they also serve the private interests of the owner class. Public education, to take but one example, produces an obedient, standardized workforce literate enough to meet the demands of (post-) industrial capitalism. Certainly, I’m in favor of cooperative labor in support of the needs of all – the poor and working class first and foremost – but that’s exactly why I oppose taxation: there’s no cooperation there at all.

The artist’s patriarchy says, “The creative man is exempt from interpretive labor1 by his efforts to endlessly interpret himself.” His privilege (and ignorance) is excused and upheld by his perceived sensitivity, no matter how shallow the affect.

While the twentieth century American man could reduce a woman through physical force, his twenty-first century cosmopolitan counterpart has had to resort to more subtle means. Synecdoche2 is his tool. The women in his life, instead of existing as full and complete human beings (with pains, desires, hopes, struggles, and the complex webs of people and experiences which form the context of their lives), are rendered interchangeable, mechanical parts. Their experiences are all negated by his own.

The Charlie Kaufman film Synecdoche, New York couldn’t have been better named. The movies’s protagonist, Caden Cotard, is embraced and understood by woman after woman3 right up to the moment of his death4. Yet all these women could have been a single character, or better yet, a mirror into which Caden would stare. Most films (and works of literature for that matter) are stuffed with straw women5. Synecdoche takes this to a self-conscious (and painful) extreme.
Through the lens of patriarchy, many will see Caden as an honest hero. Yet Caden’s domineering self-absorption is provided an antidote in a funeral monologue:

Everything is more complicated than you think. You only see a tenth of what is true. But there are a million little strings attached to every choice you make. You can destroy your life every time you choose. But maybe you won’t know for twenty years, and you may never ever trace it to its source. And you only get one chance to play it out. Just try and figure out your own divorce. And they say there is no fate, but there is. It’s what you create. And even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are only here for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Most of your time is spent being dead or not yet born, but while alive, you wait in vain, wasting years, for a phone call, or a letter, or a look from someone or something to make it all right, but it never comes. Or it seems to but it doesn’t really. So you spend your time in vague regret, or vaguer hope that something good will come along, something to make you feel connected, and to make you feel whole, something to make you feel loved. But the truth is, I feel so angry, and the truth is, I feel so fucking sad. And the truth is I’ve felt so fucking hurt for so fucking long, and for just as long have been pretending I’m OK, just to get along, just for…I don’t know why. Maybe because no one wants to hear about my misery, because they have their own. Well, fuck everybody. Amen.

And our dear Caden chooses not to swallow the antidote. He can ignore this remedy and the perspective of every other female-bodied being, for he is the artist, and this is the artist’s patriarchy.

  1. The term “interpretive labor” originates in the work of anthropologist David Graeber, defined as “the constant work of imaginative identification with others.” As Graeber explains:

    “One thing that arbitrary power does is allow one to avoid [interpretive labor] to some extent. It’s a luxury—insofar as luxury is above all, all the things you don’t have to worry about or even think about. As a result, whenever you have a social hierarchy, the people on the bottom have to constantly think about what the people above them are thinking and feeling (and hence, inevitably, end up caring about them to a certain extent) but this really doesn’t happen very much the other way around.” []

  2. Synecdoche is a figure of speech in which a part of a thing is used to refer to the whole, a whole is used to refer to a part, a class is used to refer to a more general class, a class is used to refer to a more specific class, a material is used to refer to an object composed of it, or a container is used to refer to its contents. I’m using synecdoche as metaphor for the conflation of individual beings with genericized beings writ large. []
  3. Caden’s first wife Adele is an obvious exception to this. However, she is presented to the audience as the likely cause of Caden’s loneliness and a justification for his attempts to “complete himself.” []
  4. Cotard’s exchange with the woman as he is dying so aptly demonstrates the interchangeability of the women. She is little more than a stranger, yet she is no less a fit for this dying heart-to-heart than any of the other women in Caden’s life. []
  5. A play on the straw man, which is a component of an argument based on misrepresentation of an opponent’s position, a straw woman would be an overly simplistic, shallow representation of a woman. Most women in film have no lives outside their relation/utility to men. []
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Money: because promises are best made and kept looking down the barrel of a gun [!]

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David Graeber has spent the last decade challenging the line drawn between scholar and activist. While many academics fancy themselves “radicals,” the anthropologist professor has been an active participant in anarchist and anti-authoritarian groups and organizing. Graeber has used his skill-set as an anthropologist to compile ethnographic data—far away from the classroom and campus, to be sure—regarding the contemporary anarchist movement in North America; the results were published in 2009 as Direct Action: An Ethnography. David Graeber is the author of several books, including Fragments of an Anarchist Anthropology and, most recently, Debt: The First 5,000 Years. Graeber currently teaches social anthropology at Goldsmiths, University of London. Below, Graeber discusses his latest book, the concept of debt in detail, and how his involvement in the anarchist movement sparked his interest in the history of debt.

Alex Bradshaw: Your latest book, Debt: The First 5000 Years, explores the origins of debt. What were some of the implications for communities and individuals when debt became a significant factor in people’s lives?

David Graeber: Well, one reason I wrote this book is that debt has come to pervade every aspect of our lives. International relations are all about debt, modern nation-states run on deficit financing, and consumer debt drives the economy—yet no one has, to my knowledge, ever written a history of the phenomenon. Even though people have written histories of almost anything else you can possibly imagine.

What I discovered was that in some ways, all this is nothing new. It’s probably fair to say that most human beings have been debtors at least at some point in their lives. Similarly, most uprisings, revolts, insurrections, mass political mobilizations in human history have been about debt—for instance, Athenian democracy or the Roman Republic largely emerged as a way of settling debt crises of one sort or another. Usually, in the end, enduring political regimes have had to come up with some solution to the debt trap, to avoid having the bulk of their population become effectively (or literally) slaves or peons to their creditors.

There’re two sorts of solutions, usually. One, typical of ages of credit money—where money itself is assumed to be a social creation, so many IOUs or promises—is to impose some kind of direct controls. For instance, ancient Mesopotamian kings would often just declare a clean slate, all debts would be wiped out and people would start over again. Or you could ban the taking of interest, as both Christianity and Islam did in the Middle Ages. The other solution, typical of periods of actual, physical money, such Classical Antiquity or the last five hundred years or so, is more the imperial solution: insist that debts are sacred and not to be tampered with, and throw money at the problem, create standing armies and pay them, figure out ways to distribute cash directly to your subjects—or at least social welfare programs—so they don’t end up up to the ears and lose their freedom. This of course only works in the imperial centers (cities like Athens and Rome which literally gave wealth away to their citizens), elsewhere, you usually tend to have massive debt enslavement.

Looked at in these terms, we can see that, as we begin to move back to a system of virtual credit money, that solution is breaking down as well. As a result, everyone, even in countries like the US, are being reduced to effective debt slaves. The greatest social evil of antiquity was precisely this: people would fall so deeply in debt that they would end up selling their children into slavery, even, finally, themselves. But you know, if Plato or Aristotle were somehow magically transported to modern America, would he really see matter here as all that different? Sure, we no longer sell ourselves to employers, we rent ourselves. But for anyone from the ancient world, such a distinction would be at best a legalism. They’d probably consider most Americans to be debt slaves, and would they really be so wrong to do so?

AB: When we discuss debt, we also have to discuss the concept of money. What is the conventional narrative about why money came to exist, and did your studies of debt contradict this narrative? On this note, what is the essential connection between money and debt?

DG: If you pick up an economic textbook, it’ll tell you that once upon a time (it literally deserves such an introduction, it’s a fairy tale) there was no money, so people engaged in barter: “I’ll give you twenty chickens for that cow”, that sort of thing. If the guy doesn’t want chickens, you’re out of luck—so you have to go invent money. Gradually, this gives birth to more sophisticated financial forms like paper money, complex credit operations, securitized derivatives… The problem is that, as anthropologists have known for years, it just isn’t true. No one has ever found an economy based on barter (and believe me, they’ve been looking.) Actually it’s not just wrong, it’s backwards: credit systems come first, coinage is invented at least two thousand years later, and barter…well, when it does occur, it’s usually because people are used to using money, but somehow the money supply disappears, as it did, say, in Russia with the collapse of the Soviet Union. But if credit systems are the original form of money, that gives great support to those economists—and among economists, they are decidedly the minority—who argue that money really is debt; or, better perhaps, a system of accounting that allows us to keep track of credits and debts. That realization has profound implications.

AB: The discourse regarding financial markets only tolerates so much dissent; the most common dogma states that financial markets are merely a “natural” human occurrence. Does a critical history of debt undermine the view that financial markets proper have a benign, benevolent tradition? Further, could you explain your claim that markets are founded on a “logic of violence?”

DG: I find it somewhat amusing that a lot of conventional thinkers, when they hear me talk about ancient clean slates, Jubilees and whatnot, respond “but that couldn’t really be true! It would have a terrible effect on economic activity.” Well, perhaps, but what they don’t take into account is that “economic activity” of that sort, the sort which was based on cash or precisely quantified, legally enforced loans (rather than relations based on honor and trust between people with genuine moral relations with one another)—well, for most of human history, that was largely a side-effect of military operations. Coinage is invented to pay soldiers, and markets that used them tended to crop up alongside military camps. Similarly the modern banking system arises to help fund European wars. Central banks, in turn, institutionalized that system, since the debts they manage are basically government war debt, and always have been—at least back to 1694, when King William II offered some London merchants who’d made a loan of £1.2 million to fight a war in France the right to call themselves “The Bank of England” and loan that money he owed them to others in the form of banknotes, thus bringing our current currency system into existence. Modern money is still basically government war debt.

AB: As this interview is being conducted, the hot topic in electoral politics news in the United States is the stand-off regarding raising the “debt ceiling”—that is, the maximum debt the U.S. can accrue. My question is twofold: (1.) do nation-states really have tangible debt limits, and (2.) what would happen if the U.S. were to pay off its debt tomorrow—that is, is it desirable to do so?

DG: The US is the only country that has such a legal limit, but it’s all a moralistic charade. As I say, the system we have, based on Central Banks—in our case, the Federal Reserve— requires the US to be in debt because that’s where money comes from. The only President who ever seriously tried to retire the debt was Andrew Jackson, and to do it, he also got rid of the US central bank of the time—but the results led a disastrous speculative bubble on the part of local banks that had to provide credit money themselves, and no President since has repeated the experiment.

AB: You’ve never shied away from discussing your involvement with anarchist politics, or broadly what is called the alter-globalization movement. Did your involvement in anarchist and anti-capitalist projects spark your interest in exploring a history of the concept of debt? If so, why?

DG: Oh, absolutely. After all, the alter-globalization movement grew out of a broad global reaction to the Washington consensus, which was never any sort of consensus, but rather, a vision of the world forcibly imposed on the global South through the third world debt crisis. I was involved in “drop the debt” campaigns of various sorts since at least 2000. What got me interested in some of the philosophical issues I ended up exploring in the book was the peculiar moral power of the notion of debts. So many otherwise sympathetic people, even when told of the terrible, almost unimaginably inhuman suffering inflicted on people in the global South because of the depredations of the IMF, would still respond, “well, that’s terrible that so many children died slow and painful deaths, but still—surely one has to pay one’s debts! They borrowed the money! You couldn’t possibly be suggesting they not pay it…” How is it that the morality of debt can trump any other recognizable form of morality, and make things that no one would ever, possibly agree with in any other context seem suddenly acceptable?

AB: Anarchism, as I’ve always understood it, is a critique of “power-over” social relationships in which a group or an individual has power over another group or individual—non-hierarchical relations are of the utmost importance. Are financial markets necessarily hierarchical, leading to prosperity for the few, at the expense of the majority’s debt slavery? Also, as an anarchist, do you favor “self-managed” financial markets, or are you more interested in non-market possibilities, like gift economies that are based on needs and desires instead of quid pro quo exchange?

DG: Well, the first credit markets seem to have formed as a side-effect of bureaucratic administration, and the first cash-based markets formed as a side-effect of war. That’s not a very inspiring legacy for an anarchist! There have, certainly, been times and places when a kind of free market populism has emerged, where markets began operating independently of governments, at least to some degree—Medieval Islam is one famous example, and later, Ming China—but in such cases, they tended to operate in very different ways than the kind of markets we’re now familiar with, less about competition, much more about creating and maintaining relations of interpersonal trust, or for instance, profit-sharing operations instead of interest, etc etc. I suppose it’s possible in a free society something like that might be possible. But you wouldn’t be able to call something like that a “financial market” in anything like the sense we’re familiar with.

It’s not something I feel I or anyone else can predict one way or the other. What I do think absolutely cannot operate without the state, or some top-down coercive enforcement agency, are institutions like interest-bearing loans, which is of course the core of contemporary “finance”, or, most of all, wage-labor. History shows that you basically need a state to create a situation where people are willing to sign on basically as rent-a-slaves to other people.

AB: Finally, to pull this conversation back to current events, would you argue that many current resistance movements—and I’m thinking of movements opposing neoliberal policy in Europe, including austerity measures—are based largely upon issues centering around debt, or debt forgiveness? Would you say that most examples of insurrections, revolutions, or general resistance are reactions to draconian debt policies?

DG: The great Classicist Moses Finley suggested that there was basically one single revolutionary program in all of antiquity: “abolish the debts, and redistribute the land.” The interesting thing is this is still much more true than we imagine. Take the recent revolutions in the Middle East. One of the biggest factors in the Egyptian revolution, hardly talked about, is microcredit. Gamal Mubarak, who used to work for Bank of America, decided he wanted to move away from the old welfare state model to a microcredit development model; since no one had any collateral to repossess, the police then became the guys who showed up to break your legs. Hence the universal outrage over police brutality.

When the Saudis panicked that the revolution might reach their own country, what did they do? Well, aside from beef up the security forces—they declared a Mesopotamian-style debt forgiveness for everyone in the Kingdom. (They still have a king so they can still do things like that.) Then there’s the ongoing revolts in Greece and Spain, like the Egyptian revolution, in the name of “real democracy.” There is a reason, I think, these things are happening now. What we learned in 2008 is that everything they told us about markets was a lie. Markets don’t run themselves, and debts don’t always have to be paid. If we’re talking about the real big players, the rules are different, even 13 trillion in gambling debts (by some estimations) can be made to disappear. We can’t deny that money is at core a political phenomenon, not an economic one—or at the very least, that it has now become so. But if that’s the case, then if democracy is to mean anything, it has to mean that it’s not just the richest 1% of the population that gets to decide who had to keep the exact letter of their promises and whose promises can be scotched or renegotiated…but everyone.

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I’m coming to believe that like many other terms ‘human’ holds simultaneously liberating and oppressive definition and potential. There is a sense in which the human category is fluid, describing beings with whom your own being finds deepest resonance. Then there is the biological species category Homo sapiens sapiens. These two categories are conflated by the shared term ‘human.’ While the former is defined by its subjectivity and contingency, the latter is demarcated by its objectivity and rigid certainty.

When one argues that the human prefers the human she may think of herself as appealing to an invariable reality (or law), when in actuality she is merely expressing the existence of empathic affinity—the seeing of oneself (to varying degrees) in the other.

For some the human being is of a small subset of Homo sapiens sapiens, for others it extends well beyond the same.

If I call myself a humanist, it isn’t to say that my being and its preferences belong over and above the being and preferences of any other or that my affinity is reserved for those of my own species, but rather that if I am to hold my own preferences in esteem I am likewise compelled to value the preferences of those in whom I see a bit of myself. And it’s clear to me that preference (and with it, agency) isn’t reserved for the species Homo sapiens sapiens.

As an anarchist my goal is a society (or on a smaller scale: situation) we can all live with. The ‘all’ extends to every being whose preferences can be discerned.

I’m done; my nose is bleeding.

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