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jake williams
11th January 2008, 06:35
I'm not really sure where to start, please understand that this is a tremendously difficult question to ask, intellectually and emotionally.

I have a complicated class background. I've grown up in a "liberal" university town, reasonably "leftist" relative to the rest of the country to be sure, but with the consequent wealth, and elitism. While my mother (and father, though I live with my mother and basically always have, I haven't seen my dad in years) both got degrees from that university, my mother at least didn't do too much out of it, and has worked at the same horrible retail job for half my life, making, after geared-to-income rent and phone/internet and a couple other scattered bills, student loan interest repayment, there's about $200 between us every month for almost everything else.

When I was a toddler I went to the uni daycare with students' kids. A lot of them found high-paying jobs, or it seemed more commonly, high-paying husbands, or just flat-out got money from their parents, and moved out to the burbs, the south end where the houses, while not fantatically expensive or completely isolated from the rest of the city, still does quite well for itself and is increasingly separating itself from the rest of the town, basically commuting everywhere and placing all sorts of demands on the town, the absolute right to water one's lawn, not letting apartments, even townhouses, go up because it'll "devalue property", that sort of thing.

I was still living in student housing with my mother, going to school with a couple preschool friends and the other mostly university-descendant, or Toronto-employed south end folk. I did this until I was 7, part-way through grade 2, at which point mom was done school and we moved across town , to basically the dump. I mean, not exactly hookers on street corners and bodies in dumpsters, but it's definitely the worst neighbourhood in the city, or at least near it, you knew there was a lot of crack and things around.

It was less the "danger" that bothered me, truth is their wasn't much of it, than my new classmates. I despised them, really, I hated the school and I missed my friends, and really just wanted to leave. I was extraordinarily isolated, intellectually and socially, everyone there cared about nothing more than hockey and football, and I thought they were really just ignorant and backward. This was a formative experience for me. I developed elaborate fantasies about moving back, I was perennially jealous of my best friend for everything he had, his neighbourhood and his school (formerly my school) and his friends and his toys and his computers and his every available opportunities, soccer and karate and guitar and all these things [ended up he didn't get along with Stepdad and he got sent to live with poor, trucker bio-dad in the next town over, but that's another story].

So I detested the people I lived with, basically the poor people, it turns out, though I was less economically conscious then than I am now, a lot of them, you know, industrial workers' kids. I was in a sticky place though, because I was substantially poorer than them too, I mean, that's how it seems, they got toys and clothes and I just didn't a whole lot. The issue, at the time, for me, 8, 9, 10, 11, it wasn't an economic one, it wasn't a class one, it wasn't a political one, it was, here's the [poor] dumbasses I hate, and the people I deserved to be with at the other end of town, there was really this thought that it was my place that I was deprived of. And again, these people I missed, from the first school, while they're certainly not fantastically, maniacally wealthy, they do quite well for themselves, ignorant of their socio-economic situation within the town, country and world as they are (most of them convinced of their "middle-class", even "lower-middle-class" status, this is profs' kids now, a lot of them).

Finally, my fantasies were finally fulfilled. After grade 6, when I was 12, we moved, basically back across town. Cheap housing (same house where I live now), right across from the 7/8 school, where I'd go to school with all my old "friends" (most of whom were sort-of-remembered, and who I'd occasionally seen off and on when I'd go to see Joey - and some of whom I'd barely actually met, and who I just assumed should be mine).

Which actually... while it wasn't all hopes for complicated reasons, and I was still, you know, poor, it went quite well. I was so much happier. You know, friends, not hating everyone, not getting tormented constantly by my classmates (they were so cruel, it was really horrible).

High school was, sort of an extension of the same deal. I mean, differences, and personal changes, growth I guess, but fundamentally, the class character of it for one thing, and the social situation was pretty similar. Not totally. The high school now is one of the top academic public high schools in Canada, like, top 20 I think. It's where the people in the south end suburbs send their kids, and maybe more importantly, where the profs send their kids. Literally, I'm not exaggerating, I've had classes where 6 kids have parents who teach or do research at the university.

Concentrating the vicious (though sort of unstated) elitism is the fact that, right next to ours, sort of, across a field and parking lot, a couple minutes' jog is another high school. Sort of a, mixed trade school, for people with academic difficulties, but in a lot of cases it's just the poor, non-conformist, often virulently anti-intellectual students who their local schools, or especially our school, won't accept. Sort of a cleansing, really, though no one ever, ever admits it, the Official Line is that that's a Good School for Good People who just need a different academic environment, and while I support academic options, and I despise the idea that the wealthy are Good and the poor are Bad, the truth is it's to a not insignificant extent an element of class warfare, because your chances of university are basically defunct if you go there, whereas you go to my school and you get recommendations to MIT and Berkeley and that sort of deal.

And to be entirely honest, I've picked up my side of mutual hostility between their students and ours. The important fact is that those just aren't the kind of people I like, the kind of people with whom I share interests, ideas, beliefs, I mean, style, and I won't say there isn't an intellectual gap, partly intentional and partly unintentional.

But, partly for complicated personal reasons I won't go into, partly because I've just matured, I've learned a lot about the world and my place in it, I've really grown to hate my classmates too, the people to whom one has to slowly explain that scholarships are not trivial because Canadian university is not "cheap". People to whom one has to slowly explain that if you're bringing in 6 figures, even low 6 figures, if your parents are both employed, with graduate degrees, and you have a swimming pool and you basically get whatever you want, you know, sometimes you only get the cheap laptop for Christmas... you're not "middle, lower-middle class".

I mean, I've always been basically "left", partly from elementary sanity, that there's just no way that the world economic situation in the world is morally tolerable, and I think things like gay rights, say, are just self-evident, and partly all of this is my own socioeconomic situation, and whatever I've inherited from my mother.

But it's pretty new, the extent to which I've grown to despise the other side of the coin, I guess, that I've always lived with, that while I've really sort of a repulsion for "poor" people, my mother's family, my
former classmates, and almost always have, the "rich", well-educated people just sicken me completely, their extreme ignorance and cruelty, and to such a grand extent the presumption of their own benevolence, so many of these people think themselves associated with some sort of "left" but it's just horrible.

And the option can't just be "hate everybody", and my reactions to the working class make me feel guilty, well constantly really. But it's the wealthy, educated (class terminology gets complicated because, this town is a special case with the university and all, it really does make things messy) people with whom I most closely identify, always have, who in a lot of ways I feel most comfortable with, intellectually and socially, with whom I share the same general interests. But they're just so abhorrent aside from any class solidarity reasons personally I might hold against them.


So what on earth do I do? Or think? About myself? About others? About my own emotional reactions to all of this? I'm very, very conflicted and confused and angry and alone.


Thanks.

LSD
11th January 2008, 09:05
That is probably the most honest post I've ever read on this board. That's capitalism in a nutshell. But you're blaming yourself for things you have no control over, and that's unfortunate because it's getting you into a real mess morally and emotionally.

The moral part is unquestionably the easier one, so let's start there. Morally, you've done absolutely nothing wrong. But then you know that, you're smart enough to understand that the fundamental nature of captialism is its ubiquity and that you have no choice but to participate ...and yet at the same time you manage to feel guilty.

Because the truth is that, for most of us, the "class struggle" isn't so much a physical struggle as it is a lazy game of billiards; regarded with the greatest reverence, of course, but with no real life-or-death implicatures. We go to schoool, because we have to, and get jobs, because we have to, and we are truly and genuinely subjected to the machineries of capitalist exploitation in every economic sense ...but somehow it's hard to feel quite so "exploited" with a broadband internet connection and a Digital Television. Somehow "exploitation" doesn't seem all that bad when compared with the 80% of the world that doesn't have reliable electricity, or the third of the human race that has no access to clean drinking water.

It sucks to have to work, but it sucks a whole lot less than it could and we know that, and we see that. We see what people around us have to do, poorer people, less educated people, we see the hurdles they have to climb and the jams put in their way. And beyond the statistics and the economics and the rational analysis, there is the inevitability of the injustice ...but we didn't do this.

We didn't make the world the way it is, we didn't ask to have the money flow from south to north. But we sure do benefit from it, not to the degree of boys upstairs, but we get our share. And so the question really comes down to just what is that share?

What is it that lets us live such lives while others cannot?

And the answer, as I suspect you already know, is the cold machineries of capitalism itself. You enjoy the, relative, affluence you do because your posession of a middle class lifestyle is a key ingredient in maintaining the stability of the economic structures upon which this global economy is founded.

You and me and another three-quarters of a billion first worlders out there are the middle gears of the capitalist engine. We're what keeps the whole thing running. Our affluence is the industrial by-product of that great machine. We're an "externality" to be written off the budget list. What we are, in short, is the nescessary compromise; the educated proletariat or the expanded petty-bourgeosie. We are the vast swelling masses of the tertiary and quaternary and quinary economic paradigms that defy Marx and stand bizarely en pointe before the rusted scales of dialectical materialism.

We are globalization manifest.

In the most radical school of Marxist thought, the entire first world working class is a rabble of class traitors and aristocrats, fit only to be shipped off to "one big Gulag". Others, less psychotic, would propose that the first world proletariat is not so much a labour aristocracy as it is a benneficiary of surplus neocolonial capital. That centuries of hard fought battles and economic development have forced the bourgeoisie to compromise and share a (tiny) part of the wealth.

Which leaves us in a rather strange position of being endowed with gifts that we didn't nescessarily ask for, and yet have no ability to return. And so we feel guilty because our posession of these things is in such naked contrast to the world around us.

But morally, we did nothing wrong ...and neither did anyone else.

This system wasn't "built", there was no grand conspiracy to erect the injustices and inequalities of capitalism. Capitalism is a product of five thousand years of human social evolution. It is the inevitable result of economic evolution.

And so while Fortune 500 CEOs can indeed be enormous asses, they can also be incredibly nice people. They can even start charities, and donate 10 billion dollars a year to fighting malaria in Africa. Not 'cause they like the publicity (although they do), not 'cause they want the tax write-off (although they'll take it), but because they're genuinely nice guys trying to "do good".

And that's where the morality of capitalism get's so darned sticky. The whole thing is so incredibly transactional that even the most dastardly villain can be, in person, the nicest man you'll ever meet.

And so while lancing "bourgeois scum" and "capitalist running dogs" make for merry sport in rhetoric and cyberspace, when it comes right down to it, you don't want to hurt the nice man down the street who owns the pharmacy, or your neighbour's sister who happens to be an MP, or your best friend's wife who works on wallstreet.

These are real people, often times very nice people. People who are no more responsible for their role in the capitalist superstructure than you are for yours.

So while it's easy to hate the rich or the middle class for being rich or middle class, there's no point to it. And while they might come across as superficial or naive at times, don't forget that the distance between you and them is a whole lot shorter than the distance between you and the sweat-shop labourer in Cambodia.

The class stuff, it's important, but not so much as the people stuff. If you can find people that you can relate to that, to borrow your phrase, you "feel most comfortable with, intellectually and socially, with whom [you] share the same general interests", consider yourself lucky, 'cause lots of people don't even get that.

Make whatever friends you can, love whoever's willing to love you, try to enjoy yourself as much as possible. The rest of it, the political stuff, do what you can. In the end, the movements are much bigger than you or me or any of us, but we can all play a part.

Even in University towns there are problems that require solutions, the occasional wrong that needs righting. So get involved! Not just politically, but in life: go out, meet people, date people, fuck people, go places with people, go to places with people to watch other people fucking people... there are infinite possiblities. ;)

The point, though, is that the guilt and the anxiety are all artifices, constructions of a broken paradigm in a broken world. You're not immoral for being repulsed by poverty and you're not "supposed" to be repulsed by affluence.

All that you're "supposed" to do is try to live your life as a decent human being. In the end, that's all that anyone can really ask of us.

jake williams
11th January 2008, 20:06
Thanks for the thoughtful reply. There are, I guess two things, which I think I should clarify, or reemphasize, or something.

- While from an international perspective I'm doing quite well, and I don't for an hour forget it, from the perspective of the rest of the country, I'm really not in a good place economically. Like barely paying bills (and of course in high school, and unemployed for complicated reasons, so really it's my mom barely paying bills). Not getting iPods, regular new clothes, even vehicular access, this I can all deal with, but there are some issues where it's really difficult, and given my, you know, "neighbours" if you want to call it that, the people in my variously defined social circles, it's emphatic.

- Part of the whole issue is that I'm reaching a point where I can't even on a personal level deal with people to whom I have class/political oppositions (and it's generally mixed). That there's a spillover, the demarcation between political issues and personal issues is sort of dissolving. Now it seems like there are two broad, overlapping, approximate etc. categories here. On one hand you've got people who are just apathetic, ignorant, sated, indoctrinated, these types who may or may not get kind of bothered about the "in" thing to be concerned about this week, you know, Darfur in February and bottled water in March and climate change in June... but basically they're pretty tame, and tremendously unaware of some basic facts of the world and their place in it. And partly I blame them and partly I don't. These people... I can deal with them pretty well, I mean, with these I can at least avoid open hostility though in terms of forming actual close relationships... it's difficult.

But I meet real capitalist ideologues! You wouldn't believe! Partly on the internet, sure, it's flypaper for psychos and the most malevolent creatures, but partly in classrooms, I mean, they exist. People that, some of whom are quite well-educated about the world, and are genuinely just satisfied about the world and its operations and mechanisms. This I can't accept, not remotely. While I do and will forever recognize that these are real people, with thoughts and feelings and relationships and justifications and histories that can't all just be disregarded because of their relationship to capital and society and power... the scale of the atrocity in the world that they explicitly support, are openly complicit in... I don't know how to react to this. I met one interesting person with whom I had, well it was certainly a mutually enlightening if challenging e-mail exchange at first. A Randian hypercapitalist (ideologically) American soldier stationed in Iraq, fiercely patriotic, even defending that mission, except of course with the exception that the people are too backward, not ready for Our Benevolence.

At first I thought I could deal with it, but I couldn't. I guess partly what I'm saying is that we all have, eventually, a limit where another's beliefs become so horrible as to be a genuine impediment to personal reactions, and it feels like mine are particularly and damagingly high. That again and again when things come up, you know, issues, I get very opinionated and often very angry, really fierce, and I find it difficult to separate that out and maintain a nevertheless civil relationship. Worse, I don't even know whether or not I should.