Blind
Obedience To The Canons Of Capitalism:
Of Sick Societies, American
Dalits, and a Nation of Lady Macbeths
By Jason Miller
[Author’s Note to Establish Context: I composed this on 11/24/06,
the day after Thanksgiving]
“Tell me where
do I belong in this sick society?
….Look at yourself
instead of looking at me. With accusation in your eyes. Do you want
me crucified for my profanity?
….Tell me the truth
and I’ll admit to my guilt if you’ll try to understand.
But is that blood that’s on your hand from your democracy?”
--Ozzy Osbourne,
You’re no Different, 1983
Bow
your heads and drop to your knees, brothers and sisters! Feel the power
of the Holy Dollar coursing through your being as you humbly offer your
prayers, exaltations and gratitude to Mighty Mammon!
Lay the perpetual argument
to rest. There is no separation of church and state.
It is indisputable that the
United States is one nation, under God. Our nation worships the unholy
trinity of the Dollar, Acquisitiveness, and Opulence with the fanaticism
of the Inquisitors.
‘Tis (officially) the
season to be greedy….
Yesterday, most of us initiated
the “Holidays” by performing the annual rite of gratitude.
Millions gave thanks for living in a nation which has become obscenely
corpulent by suckling at the teats of genocide, slavery, and imperialism.
Sandburg once christened
Chicago “hog butcher for the world”. Accounting for a mere
5% of the world’s population while gluttonously devouring a quarter
of the world’s resources easily qualifies the United States as
“hog to the world”.
And meanwhile…
According to UNICEF,
30,000 children die each day due to poverty. And they “die quietly
in some of the poorest villages on earth, far removed from the scrutiny
and the conscience of the world. Being meek and weak in life makes these
dying multitudes even more invisible in death.”
That is about 210,000
children each week, or just under 11 million children under five years
of age, each year (1).
While millions of children
are starving to death, we in the United States grapple with afflictions
born of over-indulgence. Obesity is reaching epidemic proportions as
we wantonly indulge our edacity. As a result, the United States is facing
an alarming rise in cases of Type-2 diabetes and a significant decline
in life expectancy (2).
What collective behavior
better symbolizes our gluttony than Thanksgiving? Gorging ourselves
to the point of nausea (while millions were grappling with starvation)
yielded at least one humane result yesterday. We relieved 265 million
Earth-bound avian creatures of their misery (3). How rewarding to recognize
the “good” that came from our disgusting act of over-indulgence.
The Sandman Cometh…
As we slept off the ill effects
of our swinish binge, visions of sugar plums, MP3’s, PS3’s,
Hummers, Escalades and all manner of goodies gamboled about in our dreams,
fueling our lust for more, more, more…and as the new day dawned,
tens of millions of true believers arose with renewed spirits, ready
to adhere to the edicts of the high priests of Capitalism.
Into the Maelstrom…
Embracing the delusion of
individualism in the midst of life’s undeniable web of interdependence,
the unwavering disciples charged into the fray to avoid the unthinkably
tragic fate of dying without having the most toys.
With the wild-eyed desperation
of meth addicts pursuing their next fix, obedient consumers joined the
hordes of shoppers assailing malls like Vikings plundering unsuspecting
coastal villages. Armed with credit card spending limits exceeding their
annual salaries, the loyal foot-soldiers buttressing the economic tyranny
of US fascism stampeded to indenture themselves to Visa.
Corporate retailers reveled
in the glory of the “biggest shopping day of the year”.
Acts of Heresy…
Delivering an invective that
would awaken the most comatose conscience, the Grinch once admonished
us of our dereliction of even a semblance of temperance:
That's what it's all about,
isn't it? That's what it's always been about. Gifts, gifts... gifts,
gifts, gifts, gifts, gifts. You wanna know what happens to your gifts?
They all come to me. In your garbage. You see what I'm saying? In your
garbage. I could hang myself with all the bad Christmas neckties I found
at the dump. And the avarice... The avarice never ends!
Yet his poignant reminder
of our moral bankruptcy fell largely on ears deafened by the overwhelming
din of Madison Avenue’s powerfully alluring appeals to our greed
and narcissism.
While abstractions like Seuss’s
Grinch had already penetrated the briery thicket of deeply inculcated
narcissism densely entwined around my social conscience, my commitment
to dwelling in a spiritual realm approaching the antithesis of our indoctrination
reached new heights this Thanksgiving.
One way I have found to exercise
my values and beliefs is to donate my time, energy and money to homeless
shelters. And Thanksgiving 2006 was my first opportunity to serve meals
to indigent human beings. I owe a debt of gratitude to the Kansas City
Rescue Mission for the allowing me to participate.
Real People….Real
Suffering….
At one point in my evening
at the Mission, I had the distinct honor of breaking bread with human
beings who were engaged in an epic struggle to avoid drowning in a sea
of wretchedness.
I met a black man named David.
His face bore deep scars of an unknown origin. Adorned in dirty, disheveled
clothing, David obviously hadn’t had the “luxury”
of a shower, hot meal, or bed in awhile. I quickly concluded that life
had brutalized David. Looking defeated, and perhaps tired of living,
he spoke softly with his eyes cast downward. David had a gentle nature
about him. And he was surprisingly articulate as he quietly informed
me that his day had not gone quite as well as he would have liked. Apparently
David is a master of the understatement.
Seated to David’s right
was William. In stark contrast to David’s morose countenance,
William’s face beamed with an inexplicable radiance. Sparkling
like polished gemstones, his eyes captivated me. Clean-shaven and dressed
in unsoiled casual business attire, he could easily have passed for
a shelter employee or another volunteer. Yet when he spoke, his voice
was even more subdued than David’s. And his halting speech and
child-like observations suggested that William was socially, emotionally,
or intellectually challenged in some way.
I smiled and chatted with
them. Small talk about things like the weather and football. They seemed
more intent on eating than talking, for obvious reasons. I offered to
get bring them more food. William accepted, but David declined. As the
meal ended, I shook their hands, thanked them for the privilege of eating
with them, and wished them well in their struggle. I wanted to embrace
them and tell them that everything was going to be all right very soon.
But social taboos and my deep reluctance to lie prevented me from doing
so.
Later, I worked in the kitchen.
My task on the “assembly line” was to ladle heaping portions
of sliced potatoes onto each plate. A capable, authoritative figure
named Marx directed us volunteers as we strived to satisfy the onslaught
of hungry people. Based on his appearance, demeanor, and role in the
kitchen, I assumed he worked for the shelter.
However, I eventually discovered
that Marx was newly enrolled in the Mission’s program. He told
me that meant that he had become a Mission resident who was on a path
to long-term sobriety and reintegration into society. As I left that
evening I confided in him that I had hit rock bottom thirteen years
ago. I told him how much I wished for his success.
In all we served over 130
individuals that night. The Kansas City Rescue Mission is a men’s
shelter, but some of the men had brought female companions along for
the Thanksgiving meal
Exhausted, yet feeling fulfilled,
I spoke to as many Mission clients as I could once the meal was served.
Some acted shy, a few were a bit surly or even hostile, but most of
them appeared genuinely happy that another human being took a moment
to acknowledge them with kindness and respect. Their responses affirmed
the Mission coordinator’s observation that most homeless human
beings have become conditioned to being “invisible” in our
society and sorely ache for the fulfillment of basic human social needs
like recognition, dignity, and compassion.
[The United States is a “classless
society”? Tell that to our homeless people…. Human beings
who share much in common with India’s Dalits or Untouchables]
In retrospect, I realize
I could have done more to buoy their spirits. I neglected to remind
them of some incredibly hopeful aspects of the United States, including:
1 our robust economy
2 our “ownership”
society
3 the money that will be
“trickling down” to them any time now
4 the invisible hand of the “free market” that would lift
them out of their economic despair
5 and how safe they are now
because the federal government is diverting so much funding from
6 social service programs to the “War on Terror”
Yet I can console myself
with the virtual certainty that they will learn of such pleasant fictions
through at least one of the MSM’s many vehicles for delivering
its opiate-like agitprop to the masses.
Welcome home…
As I returned to my modest
apartment to share the rest of the evening with my family, my eyes welled
with tears. An overwhelming feeling of anguish threw me into a brief
period of mental torpor. A tsunami of empathy flooded me with despondence.
Intense memories of the hells of addiction, unmanaged bipolar disorder,
self-hatred, homelessness, loneliness, hopelessness, and despair forced
their way to the forefront of my conscious mind. Less than fifteen years
ago I too had teetered on the edge of the abyss.
Through prolonged perseverance,
and by the grace of the Higher Power of my understanding, I had managed
to reclaim my soul, my mind, my family, my dignity, and my humanity.
And now my challenge is to toil onward in my spiritual journey. Contemplating
the trials people like David and William would endure as they pursued
a similar course, and mourning the ones who would fall short, I felt
a profound wave of despair wash over me.
As I ate my belated dinner,
the turkey and pumpkin pie that typically delight my palate might as
well have been sand. Contradicting years of conditioning, I felt my
excitement over the Chiefs evaporate as quickly as dry ice on a scorching
summer afternoon. I watched the game with a dearth of enthusiasm. As
the television blitzkrieged my psyche with visual and auditory paeans
to riches and consumption, my indifference toward acquiring unnecessary
material possessions metamorphosed into repulsion. My passion and commitment
to social justice and human rights redoubled.
In short, my spirit took
a further evolutionary step last night. And for that precious blessing,
I am deeply indebted to a group of human beings whom we have tossed
aside like sacks of fetid garbage.
Like it or not, they
are human….
Viewing our homeless as fundamentally
flawed in some way eradicates a scathing indictment of the sacred tenets
of Capitalism, relieves guilt, and quells fears of sharing a similar
fate.
But these are human beings who are no different than me. Or than you.
Which brings me to Ozzy Osbourne’s
apt rhetorical question. “Where do I belong in a sick society?”
Sick indeed. The social,
political, and economic systems of the United States (and its mimics,
like India) inflict untold suffering on innumerable human beings. Aside
from condemning billions in developing countries to lives of abject
poverty via its neoliberal economic exploitation, the most prosperous
(and reputedly most benevolent) nation in history leaves an unconscionable
number of its own to wallow in economic despair.
Bearing in mind the nearly
boundless resources of the United States, consider the following:
Accomplishing a logic-defying
feat, the wealthiest nation in the world has “attained”
the highest rate of homelessness amongst developed countries. 3.5 million
human beings experience homelessness each year in the United States.
Almost a million are homeless every night.
In the most heavily militarized
nation in the history of the human race, 30% of its homeless men are
military veterans. What happened to “support the troops”?
Obviously once military personnel return home, the slogan changes to
“good riddance to bad rubbish.”
Ready for some “shock and awe” on the home front? According
to the National Mental Health Association, “on any given night,
1.2 million children are homeless” in the United States (4).
What was that about
a sick society?
While a complex network of
power elites in an array of industries, corporations, government entities,
the media, and think tanks bear the brunt of the responsibility for
our malevolence, we cannot evade our complicity in buttressing the institutions
that sustain our criminal class. This group is no intangible Kafkaesque
bureaucracy. Many of the principle culprits are readily identifiable.
Bush, Cheney, Rice, Rove, the Walton clan (which collectively still
owns 38% of Wal-Mart’s stock), William Kristol, Henry Kissinger,
and a host of others are guilty of the direct (or in some cases indirect)
infliction of human misery on par with the likes of Saddam Hussein and
Kim Jong-il. And we have collectively enabled the twin evils of fascism
and imperialism by deifying money.
Motivating large numbers
to take the radical step of divorcing themselves from the worship of
material prosperity appears to be a nearly unattainable goal. At least
until many more people have experienced significant pain.
Yet those of us intent on
evoking drastic changes in the prevailing paradigm are not impotent
sans mass participation. Like the forces of wind and water erosion,
the steady action of even a relative few can flatten mountains over
time.
Jack Kemp once observed:
"The power of one man
or one woman doing the right thing for the right reason, and at the
right time, is the greatest influence in our society."
Familial obligations, the formidable military power of the establishment,
and a reticence to engage in asymmetric warfare may limit one’s
viable options in waging opposition against the powers that be, but
there is no compulsion to unconditionally bulwark the Kleptocrats and
their attending sycophants.
We the People, one person
at a time, one day at a time, have it within our power to undermine
and subvert a system premised on hubris, savage militarism, nationalism,
exploitation, and rapacity.
How?
Simply by embracing ways
of being which are antithetical to maintaining the malignant status
quo:
1opposing evil through non-violent
means (5)
2 practicing compassion
3 recycling and living frugally
4 having a healthy sense
of humility
5 respecting human rights
and dignity
6 finding a reasonable balance
between excess and asceticism
7 acting with a modicum of
selflessness and concern for the collective
8 working toward a more just
and peaceful global community
9 developing a concern for
the environment
10 placing people before
profits
11 devoting oneself to critical,
independent thinking
12 consistently practicing
the Golden Rule
13 committing to honesty
with self and others
It is not too late to “tell
[ourselves] the truth”, abandon the idolatry of affluence, and
“wash the blood that’s on (our) hand(s) from (our) democracy”
Remember, Humankind and Mother
Earth are counting on us!
End Notes:
(1) http://www.globalissues.org/TradeRelated/Facts.asp
(2)
http://www.nih.gov/news/pr/mar2005/nia-16.htm
(3) http://www.mccookgazette.com/story/1178481.html
(4) http://www.dissidentvoice.org/Oct06/Miller06.htm
(5) http://www.paulloeb.org/newimp/impexcerptwink.htm
Please make a donation:
Kansas City Rescue Mission:
http://www.kcrm.org/
City Union Mission: http://www.cumission.org/
Jason Miller
is a wage slave of the American Empire who has freed himself intellectually
and spiritually. He writes prolifically, his essays have appeared widely
on the Internet, and he volunteers at homeless shelters. He welcomes
constructive correspondence at [email protected]
or via his blog, Thomas Paine's Corner, at http://civillibertarian.blogspot.com/
Leave
A Comment
&
Share Your Insights