Max Haiven's Blog, page 6

April 20, 2022

Recasting the future with Amazon workers (Routledge Handbook of Creative Futures))

By Max Haiven, Graeme Webb and Xenia Benivolski

This text is forthcoming in the Routledge International Handbook for Creative Futures, edited by Alfonso Montuori and Gabrielle Donnelly and due out in late 2022. The version here has not yet been fully copyedited.

Abstract

Amazon is the world’s largest retailer and one of its largest corporations and employers and is aggressively seeking to reshape the future. This comes at the expense of its workers, who are not only exploited but excluded from dreaming of and shaping that future. We started a science and speculative media club with rank-and-file Amazon workers in North America to explore their perspectives on the future. After relating our methods and some of what we learned, we conclude by exploring the prospects for reclaiming the power of future “fictioning” with workers in a moment of platform capitalism.

Bios

Max Haiven is Canada Research Chair in the Radical Imagination at Lakehead University and co-director of RiVAL: The ReImagining Value Action Lab. Graeme Webb is an instructor in the School of Engineering at the University of British Columbia. Xenia Benivolski is an organiser, researcher and art writer based in Toronto.

Amazon: whose future?

In Everything and Less: The Novel in the Age of Amazon literary critic Marc McGurl (2021) notes that the corporation, which in a short twenty-five years has become the world’s largest retailer and one of its largest private employers, has been guided by a self-aggrandizing science fiction narrative. The firm has in numerous ways been inspired and shaped by the favourite genre of its founder, Jeff Bezos, who has famously used his massive share of its profits to finance his own private space program (Levy, 2021). Amazon flatters itself as an angel of capitalism’s creative destruction, wielding the flaming sword of digital technology to liberate humanity from the clutches of the past (Delfanti, 2021).

The company has transformed how we buy books but also how and what we read. Today it is by some measures the world’s largest publisher, with a jealous hold over tens of millions of Kindle readers as well as over writers who pen novels (typically genre fiction) on its exclusive platform (Davis, 2020). Via its subsidiary, Audible, Amazon is unrivalled in the realm of audiobooks (Doctorow, 2020). Beyond the written and spoken word, Amazon’s digital streaming services are among the most popular and it has ambitiously sought to finance award-winning films and TV serials to announce itself as a leading studio and media producer; once a platform to merely buy books, the company has become a content creator across multiple media (Brevini & Swiatek, 2021). It shapes the stories we tell ourselves about our world. It is also quickly becoming America’s leading retailer, gobbling up market share in the sale of everything from garments to video games, from household staples to office supplies (Alimahomed-Wilson & Reese, 2020). Tens of thousands of smaller businesses now compete with one another to use Amazon’s order and fulfilment platforms to sell their goods and services to the giant’s dedicated customers, a kind of walled garden version of the free market (Alimahomed-Wilson, Allison & Reese, 2020).

But the firm has not been content to stop there. It has also leveraged its early success to become the world’s largest provider of web services and data management; Amazon servers are the back-end of a huge proportion of the internet and manages the data of many of the world’s top companies, public institutions, governments, and even military and security forces (Williams, 2020). It has also transformed the logistics industry through its advanced employment of machine learning and revolutionized how warehouses work through its extensive use of robotics (Alimahomed-Wilson, 2020). The company has sought to become a ubiquitous presence in our lives: in 2017 it acquired the American grocery giant Whole Foods and in 2019 it introduced Amazon Care in that country, a digital healthcare service aiming to “disrupt” that industry as well (Huberman, 2021; Nosthoff & Maschewski, 2021).

While capitalist firms by their very nature compete by predicting the future to capitalize  on new markets and manage risk, Amazon is actively seeking to leverage its massive wealth and power to create a future in which it is dominant. Their corporate slogan “work hard, have fun, make history” indicates the kind of relentless, progressivist drive to shape human destiny that animates the company’s strategy. Beyond corporate rhetoric, communication scholar Alessandro Defanti and Bronwyn Frey’s recent study of Amazon and its subsidiaries reveal the wide array of patent applications held by the firm indicate the type of mind-bending future they envision for us all (Delfanti & Frey, 2021).

And yet who is building that future? Recent years have seen numerous stories about the horrors endured by workers throughout Amazon’s operations (Struna & Reese, 2020). Workers in the firm’s corporate offices report a culture of overwork, stress, and verbal abuse (Kantor & Streitfeld, 2015). But these white-collar workers have it relatively easy. Delivery drivers work punishing schedules, often forced to compete with one another to quicken their pace, at the expense of their own health, safety, and wellbeing (Alimahomed-Wilson, 2020). Even the independent companies contracted to deliver packages endure punishing forms of self-exploitation in the name of the massive corporation’s profits (Gurley, 2022). In what could have been taken directly from Orwell’s cautionary tale of the future in 1984, warehouse workers toil under conditions of staggering surveillance and micromanagement, often at a pace set by robots, and are forced to wear sensors that track their every gesture and vital sign to maximize efficiency (Delfanti, 2021). Then there are the gig workers on the firm’s Mechanical Turk (MTurk) platform, who compete from home against one another for digital micro-contracts often denominated at cents-per-second ratios and usually taking the form of medial data entry or simple coding tasks (Irani, 2015; Sherry, 2020). Often this work trains the very algorithms that will eventually replace them or other workers.

If Amazon is building the future, it is building it on the backs of its workers. And, indeed, many of its techniques seem the stuff of dystopian fantasy.

Around the world, workers are rebelling, forming trade unions and workers’ organizations (Alimahomed-Wilson & Reese, 2020). However, the infamous union-busting techniques of the firm in Bessemer, Alabama, which were condemned by the (by no means union-friendly) Labour Relations Board, indicate its violent and ruthless allergy to this kind of worker protagonism (Scheiber & Weise, 2022).  To push back against these anti-worker strategies, efforts are afoot, under the banner of the global Make Amazon Pay coalition and the American Athena coalition, to coordinate efforts of unions, workers’ centres, civil society organizations and other progressive forces to challenge Amazon’s power (Rubin, 2019; Smith, 2021).

And yet these efforts, as their protagonists would likely be the first to admit, are so deeply in the trenches they have a hard time making space and time to see the horizon. Beyond defending worker’s rights and seeking to halt the relentless advance of Amazon, it is imperative to envision alternate futures. The technology and wealth that, today, Amazon and other “technofeudalist” firms monopolize can and should be used to liberate humanity from toil, not institute an even more punishing regime of exploitation (Dean, 2020; Varoufakis, 2021).

How might such a future be envisioned, let alone instituted? What role will workers themselves have to play in imagining and stewarding its birth? What do workers themselves have to say? Strangely, few people seem to ask. But we did.

Studying speculative fiction with Amazon workers

In November and December of 2021, we recruited around 24 rank-and-file Amazon workers to watch speculative and science fiction (SF) shows with us and talk about the future. We met on Zoom once a week and workers were remunerated for their time. Together, we watched films including Snow Piercer, TV shows like Squid Game, Black Mirror and Star Trek, and played games from radical gamemaker Molleindustria that reflect on the conditions of digital workers. We asked the workers if and how this media content helped them reflect on their work at the corporation. The purpose wasn’t so much to gather data for academic research but to create a space where workers could theorize their experiences for themselves. It was open to both current workers and those who had recently left the company’s workforce, but not to managers. Participants were invited to use false names or no name to protect their identities.

The first thing we learned is that there are a lot of different kinds of workers at Amazon. In our group we had warehouse workers, delivery drivers, content writers, MTurk workers and data analysts from all across the United States, and some from Canada. They had vastly different cultural, linguistic, educational and economic backgrounds, which sometimes made dialogue challenging. Some were huge SF fans with encyclopaedic knowledge of the genre. Others were casual consumers. While some had clear political views on capitalism, in general they seemed happy to lead respectfully non-partisan discussions framed by the collective desire for a better future. Most were forthcoming about how difficult it was to work at Amazon and how demanding they found the company’s management tactics and relentless surveillance. But many were also happy to have the work, either because it provided a stable income or, in other cases, because it provided flexibility.

Most of the participants tended to identify strongly with the dystopian themes in the films and TV series we watched and the games we played. They almost universally felt that the future looked fairly bleak for workers (not only Amazon workers) and that it was likely that technological changes would serve the interests of the rich. Revealingly, many questioned the relevance of wealth in a crumbling world: Would class make much of a difference in the dismal, ecologically ravaged, war-torn future? But others were exasperated by this pessimism and encouraged us to think about what could be done today to prevent both a terrible future and continued hyper-exploitation.

One contradiction that came up again and again was that, while many workers spoke to the dystopian present and future, they also expressed an abstract optimism about their own personal circumstances. Several participants expressed the sentiment that we should stick together and help each other in facing the oppressor which was not necessarily Amazon but systems of inequality at large. Teamwork and working together to overcome challenges were major themes in our conversations, and often reflected in the media we watched together. Most workers also told us that feeling part of a team was the best thing about their job. They were almost all sceptical that Amazon management would ever recognize or appreciate their hard work. They talked a lot about how unfair they found the system of rewards and punishments on the job.  In its factories, Amazon brought back the 80s management fad of the “employee of the month” award to encourage hard work through internal competition. But the workers we talked with felt this was a largely dystopian gimmick. They also resented the constant technological “nudging” towards reward-seeking behaviour. For example, employees with repetitive positions are encouraged to fill out surveys while they work to earn minutes of vacation time.

Many watched or read SF, or played SF themed games as a way to escape from the demanding world of work itself, and so were less enthusiastic about taking critical positions on the content we watched together. Compounding this, some reacted so strongly to the dystopian themes (a few even calling it “triggering”) that they admitted to having difficulty watching or playing the games we had selected. And yet, there was a clear sense that sci-fi, especially dark and dystopian SF, was appealing to the group. Why would people who already lived and worked in what would probably appear to a time traveller from the past as a dystopian sci-fi scenario enjoy the genres? What interest did these texts offer to workers who are relentlessly surveilled, measured, controlled and pitted against one another by a huge corporation that literally uses their exploited energies to realise the megalomaniacal fantasies of their CEO to go to space?

            In our discussion, it became clear that watching SF film and TV was a form of escapist entertainment, a way of winding down after a hard day (or night, or week) of work. But why not romcoms, or period drama, or soap operas? Or why not more optimistic SF, like Star Trek? Certainly, the answer was different for all of the workers we spoke to, but we wonder if, on some level, the dystopian SF was somehow validating.

Methods for fictioning the future of work

In approaching this project, we wanted our research methodology to enable us to collectively labour with Amazon workers to think about and discuss the emerging paradigm of ‘platform capitalism’ under which they work. Under platform capitalism, the profit motive of increasingly concentrated corporations is augmented by the use of digital technology (Srnicek, 2016). Furthermore, workers access employment through the mediation of digital platforms, a process often related to the “gig economy” (Jones, 2021).  Far from the dream of robots liberating humans from toil, this shift has seen an increase in worker precariousness and a diminishment in workers’ capacity to organize collectively for their rights, as well as increased power in the hands of investors and senior management (Bananav, 2020).

Recently, a number of scholars have shown that Amazon is a pioneer in the use of digital technology for the discipline and exploitation of labour (Alimahomed-Wilson & Reese, 2020; Moore & Robinson, 2016). Amazon’s use of digital surveillance, robotics, and metrics to gain ever more productivity from their workers has become notorious as emblematic of the exploitative potential of today’s technology and a grim harbinger of the future of work (Delfanti, 2021; Zuboff, 2019). As numerous scholars argue, beyond the very material struggles workers face in platform capitalism, the paradigm also places the future itself in the hands of corporations that increasingly appear to act outside the scope of public regulation (Dyer-Witheford, 2015).

Our project seeks to contribute to an effervescence of research on Amazon, and on platform capitalism more broadly in a completely new way. While some scholars have focused on workers’ sentiments (Briken & Taylor, 2018; Irani, 2015), no study has examined their approach to the future. While other studies have used surveys or focus groups, none has explored creative writing as a methodology. And while SF has been theorized as a vehicle for critical consciousness raising, this has not been attempted with groups of workers.

To do so, our project draws on and combines in new ways three broad and established methodological approaches and theoretical areas of study.

The first, the Participatory Workers’ Inquiry, was initially developed in Italy in the 1970s and saw scholars approach workers as partners in theorizing the changing nature of capitalism (Woodcock, 2021). Often, this took the form of collective reading and discussion circles and represented a long-term commitment by scholars to a process of personal transformation in the research participants. This was undertaken primarily to help workers better strategize around their struggle for rights and compensation. In recent years, workers’ inquiry has been widely used as a methodology where scholars collaborate with precarious workers and/or those in rapidly changing sectors, the better to understand both workers’ lives and struggles and the broader systems of which they are a part (Brophy, 2017; Holland, 2020; Ovetz, 2020). Given this renewed interest in workers’ inquiry as a method, there is an opportunity to extend and situate this research-action approach in platform capitalism.

Our research, however, seeks to make a novel contribution to the workers’ inquiry methodology by being the first study to make SF and thinking about the future central to the process. By focusing on workers that labour within Amazon’s emergent forms of platform capitalism, their actual experiences and struggles are revealed. Here, our project aims to access what Geoghegan (1990) calls the “negative memories” of exploitation that might animate new forms of cooperation and struggle for workers’ rights with what Bloch (1996) calls a “concrete utopian” dimension. As Kelley (2002) argues, future visions that are catalyzed by such struggles have great potential value to society at large as they provide alternative pathways to social change.

In the second place, our approach is informed by the “convocation” method for researching the “radical imagination” developed by Haiven and Khasnabish (2014) based on theories of Cornelius Castoriadis (1997). Here, the imagination is approached as a collective process, rather than an individual cognitive function. The radical imagination emerges from everyday life and the collective experience of struggle against dominant power relations. Accordingly, Khasnabish and Haiven argue the role of the researcher of the imagination can include efforts to “convoke” the radical imagination by bringing research participants together to learn, create, debate and, in the term provided by Harney and Moten (2013), “study.”  The convocation method measures its success less by delivering data on research participants and more by how it supports them to theorize and reflect on their own experience. Since being introduced nearly a decade ago, the convocation method has been used many times by scholars working with social movements and communities in struggle. It has not yet been attempted with groups of workers and has not yet been integrated with SF or the practices of creative writing.

In the third case, our project draws on a strand of critical pedagogy that mobilizes SF genre, including films, novels, and games, to stimulate critical collective reflection on contemporary society (Truman, 2019). While SF has struggled to overcome its assigned status as a “paraliterature,” not to be taken seriously relative to canonical literature, increasingly both critics and reading publics have come to appreciate the genre for its ability to challenge the imagination (Broderick, 1995; Moylan, 2018). While typically set in the close or distant future, SF inevitably reflects the worldly concerns of the writer and the reader in their own time. In doing so, it enables readers to explore their assumptions about how the world functions, the nature of political relations, social norms and regimes of economic value. The critical power of SF is not in the blueprints of a future society that it offers, but the production of ideas and images that exist (Bloch, 1996) in opposition to what is (Suvin, 1997). At its best, SF can produce a generative estrangement evoked by the appearance of that which is “not yet” (Bloch, 1996). It can help “educate desire” to embolden resistance to the status quo (Levitas, 1997). While the SF genre was forged in the crucible of colonialism and can reinforce and reproduce hegemonic logics, the genre has seen a rise of diverse and subaltern voices over the past 60 years. In particular, the genre’s powers of cognitive estrangement have been especially successful when mobilized by oppressed groups including LGBTQ2+ people, Indigenous people and Black people (brown & Imarisha, 2015; Dillon, 2012).

SF’s critical powers are especially important in a moment of capitalism that, as Haiven (2014) argues, does not simply vanquish the imagination but seeks to harness it to make each social subject conform to its forms of value. As Jameson (2005) makes clear, SF is particularly useful in developing a critique of capitalism from within, a system that is uniquely structurally future-oriented. Amazon is particularly emblematic of this orientation towards the future. Researchers like McGurl (2021) have suggested the centrality of generic SF narrative to the firm’s public image and internal vision. This is clearly evidenced in Amazon’s founding CEO, Jeff Bezos’ frequent declarations of the importance of SF to his life, vision, and corporate strategy and has redirected his massive fortune towards a private space program to make his dreams for humanity a reality (Means & Slater, 2019).

In our project, we are not only interested in consuming SF with workers, but also supporting them to produce it. This approach follows and expands upon successful experiments by scholars and social movements and community educators who have used SF writing workshops as a way to catalyze a collective process of critical discovery. Perhaps best known is Imarisha and brown’s (2015) use of SF writing workshops to foster the imagination of social movement actors in the United States, which they have developed into a set of prompts for similar exercises that we will draw on extensively. Similarly, Truman (2019, 2021) has written on how writing SF can contribute to a feminist and anti-racist pedagogy of liberation in the university and high school classroom. Our project combines this broad approach with inspiration taken from projects like New York’s Workers Writing Workshop, which recognize the importance of supporting the creative writing of working people as a project of social justice but have not so far explored SF (Hsu, 2017). 

Is resistance futile?  

            Jeff Bezos, indelibly linked to Amazon, is intimately connected to the SF genre. In particular, he has at many points identified Star Trek as his single most important inspiration (Roberts & Andrews, 2021). Indeed, he considered naming Amazon makeitso.com after the catch phrase of his hero, Captain Jean-Luc Picard of Star Trek: The Next Generation, which aired new episodes from 1987 until 1994, the year Amazon’s predecessor company was founded. Bezos even styles his appearance on that of Patrick Stewart and is unabashed in his embrace of the thriving and obsessive nerd culture around the franchise. According to his own testimony, and those of other founders and executives, Bezos would regularly refer to Star Trek episodes in corporate strategy meetings and the series was in some senses pivotal to the internal culture of the company (Stone, 2013).

In fact, it is strongly suspected that Amazon was really an effort by the former financier to generate the wealth to launch his own private space program. In 2000 these efforts became reality with the creation of Blue Origin whose mantra is “Earth, in all its beauty, is just our starting place.” When the company was finally successful at launching manned rockets in 2021 one of the first “guests” was the actor William Shatner, famous for playing the maverick Captain Kirk on the original Star Trek series, which a young Bezos watched with an almost religious fervour.

Ironically, the empire Bezos created in some ways resembles the kind of dystopian world that his idolized intergalactic explorers might encounter and seek to liberate. In each incarnation of the franchise, Star Trek has dwelled on the social and philosophical issues related to the prospects of freedom, the nature of exploitation, and the possibilities of peace and cooperation across cultures. The noble United Federation of Planets was dreamed up by the series’ founder, Gene Roddenberry, as an antidote to the culture of fear and xenophobia fostered by the Cold War. He envisioned an interstellar alliance of species, including a multi-ethnic mix of humans, that, together, dedicated themselves to peace and exploration. In the journeys of their flagship starship Enterprise across multiple different series, the Federation encounters numerous planets and societies that act as allegories for our present-day earthly concerns.

Critics have noted that, in the Cold War, Star Trek often appeared as a benevolent fantasy of the American Empire, championing notions of individualist “freedom” in contrast to the collectivist pathologies of alien species (Sarantakes, 2005). But as the series developed it would also, at times, come to critique the kind of ruthless and reckless profiteering associated with capitalism (Hassler-Forest, 2016). However, the Federation is, ultimately, a postcapitalist fantasy based on the presumption that the development of technology will, by the 24th century, have largely eliminated the need for human toil and create a world of abundance and peace.

            If it is Bezos’ dream to create such a world, he seems to be more than willing to sacrifice the lives, health, and wellbeing of millions of workers to achieve it. The exploitative and abusive practices of the company, combined with the larger-than-life corporate culture and megalomaniacal (former) CEO all feel like they were scripted with a heavy hand in the Star Trek writing room: some producer evidently let the concept slide by, without sending it back with a note saying, “too on the nose: make the allegory for the evils of capitalism more subtle or we’ll lose the audience.”

            If Star Trek has been such a large influence on Amazon’s development, perhaps there are clues within its plotlines and tropes that might help us unpack the firm’s deeper dimensions.  In 1997, two years after it started selling books online, Amazon was publicly listed on the New York Stock Exchange. In that same year Star Trek Voyager, then in its fourth season of network syndication, introduced the character Seven of Nine. Seven was a cyborg that the ship’s crew rescued from the Borg, a hive-minded alien species that, since their first appearance in the series in 1989, have terrorized the Federation and its heroes. Like her counterparts in The Collective, before being ‘assimilated’ Seven was once an intelligent, independent human. However, upon being abducted as a child by the virus-like horde they were transformed into a powerful robotic drone dedicated to their collective mission of doing the same to all intelligent, independent lifeforms in the universe. Their monotone mantra, “resistance is futile,” has become so stitched into popular culture its origins have been largely forgotten.

Separated from her fellow drones, Seven eventually reclaims some sense of her individuality and morality and joins Voyager as part of its diverse crew. Her humanity recaptured, she becomes an invaluable strategic asset, not only for her superior strength, endurance, and intellectual capacities, but also because, having once been part of the hive mind, she has special insight into and even contact with it. Now part of the resistance to the Borg’s endless, viral growth, her intimate, embodied knowledge becomes a source of hope.

            Is Amazon The Borg? Will they continue their parasitic expansion to claim ever more ever spheres of life? Addressing their victims, The Borg promise to “add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own” and reassure them that their cultural particularities will “adapt to service us”? As more and more industries fall to Amazon’s relentless, digitally-augmented expansion or recast themselves around its model, the metaphor is tempting. Certainly, it resonates with scenes of warehouses where workers wear sensors linked to Amazon servers, measuring and subtly “nudging” their movements to ensure efficiency in the service of profit. Though they retain their individuality and are framed by the company as “entrepreneurs,” the image of thousands of MTurk workers at computer terminals around the world racing to fulfil endless, mundane digital microtasks fed to them by an Amazon proprietary system transforms these workers into something not unlike drones. Amazon’s fleet of delivery drivers, who are constantly being nudged to do their work faster through arcane digital systems is not altogether foreign. Sure, all these workers are allowed to retain their sense of individual selfhood. Unlike the Borg, they are technically free to quit at any time. But how much does that matter in an economy where increasingly every firm is learning from or being “disrupted” by Amazon’s model?

We speculate that, like Seven of Nine, Amazon workers may have some special insight and intuition of how to resist and rebel not only at the level of their conscious intellectual      reflections but encoded in their very bodies. Workers are, of course, categorically excluded from management decision-making and strategy. The algorithms that govern their bodies and time are opaque. And yet our SF-inspired conjecture is that workers intuit something about the firm and the future it is building by virtue of having been bodily assimilated into spaces and mindsets prescribed by Amazon’s corporate demands. Though their access to and power over Amazon’s “collective intelligence” is limited, they are still in some sense possessed by it and so have some preternatural awareness of it.

If that’s the case, then rank and file Amazon workers themselves may have the most important insights about how to challenge the company’s future-making machine. The wager of our project is that, by creating welcoming, convivial, and creative spaces we can work with Amazon workers to awaken their secret insight into the future-making (or future-killing) power of their exploiter. By using the genre of SF, so pivotal to Amazon’s foundation and operations, we might be able to labour together to envision a near-future world beyond Amazon’s grasp, where the potential to co-create a future is shared democratically, rather than hoarded by a corporate oligarchy. 

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Published on April 20, 2022 00:37

Recasting the future with Amazon workers

By Max Haiven, Graeme Webb and Xenia Benivolski

This text is forthcoming in the Routledge International Handbook for Creative Futures, edited by Alfonso Montuori and Gabrielle Donnelly and due out in late 2022. The version here has not yet been fully copyedited.

Abstract

Amazon is the world’s largest retailer and one of its largest corporations and employers and is aggressively seeking to reshape the future. This comes at the expense of its workers, who are not only exploited but excluded from dreaming of and shaping that future. We started a science and speculative media club with rank-and-file Amazon workers in North America to explore their perspectives on the future. After relating our methods and some of what we learned, we conclude by exploring the prospects for reclaiming the power of future “fictioning” with workers in a moment of platform capitalism.

Bios

Max Haiven is Canada Research Chair in the Radical Imagination at Lakehead University and co-director of RiVAL: The ReImagining Value Action Lab. Graeme Webb is an instructor in the School of Engineering at the University of British Columbia. Xenia Benivolski is an organiser, researcher and art writer based in Toronto.

Amazon: whose future?

In Everything and Less: The Novel in the Age of Amazon literary critic Marc McGurl (2021) notes that the corporation, which in a short twenty-five years has become the world’s largest retailer and one of its largest private employers, has been guided by a self-aggrandizing science fiction narrative. The firm has in numerous ways been inspired and shaped by the favourite genre of its founder, Jeff Bezos, who has famously used his massive share of its profits to finance his own private space program (Levy, 2021). Amazon flatters itself as an angel of capitalism’s creative destruction, wielding the flaming sword of digital technology to liberate humanity from the clutches of the past (Delfanti, 2021).

The company has transformed how we buy books but also how and what we read. Today it is by some measures the world’s largest publisher, with a jealous hold over tens of millions of Kindle readers as well as over writers who pen novels (typically genre fiction) on its exclusive platform (Davis, 2020). Via its subsidiary, Audible, Amazon is unrivalled in the realm of audiobooks (Doctorow, 2020). Beyond the written and spoken word, Amazon’s digital streaming services are among the most popular and it has ambitiously sought to finance award-winning films and TV serials to announce itself as a leading studio and media producer; once a platform to merely buy books, the company has become a content creator across multiple media (Brevini & Swiatek, 2021). It shapes the stories we tell ourselves about our world. It is also quickly becoming America’s leading retailer, gobbling up market share in the sale of everything from garments to video games, from household staples to office supplies (Alimahomed-Wilson & Reese, 2020). Tens of thousands of smaller businesses now compete with one another to use Amazon’s order and fulfilment platforms to sell their goods and services to the giant’s dedicated customers, a kind of walled garden version of the free market (Alimahomed-Wilson, Allison & Reese, 2020).

But the firm has not been content to stop there. It has also leveraged its early success to become the world’s largest provider of web services and data management; Amazon servers are the back-end of a huge proportion of the internet and manages the data of many of the world’s top companies, public institutions, governments, and even military and security forces (Williams, 2020). It has also transformed the logistics industry through its advanced employment of machine learning and revolutionized how warehouses work through its extensive use of robotics (Alimahomed-Wilson, 2020). The company has sought to become a ubiquitous presence in our lives: in 2017 it acquired the American grocery giant Whole Foods and in 2019 it introduced Amazon Care in that country, a digital healthcare service aiming to “disrupt” that industry as well (Huberman, 2021; Nosthoff & Maschewski, 2021).

While capitalist firms by their very nature compete by predicting the future to capitalize  on new markets and manage risk, Amazon is actively seeking to leverage its massive wealth and power to create a future in which it is dominant. Their corporate slogan “work hard, have fun, make history” indicates the kind of relentless, progressivist drive to shape human destiny that animates the company’s strategy. Beyond corporate rhetoric, communication scholar Alessandro Defanti and Bronwyn Frey’s recent study of Amazon and its subsidiaries reveal the wide array of patent applications held by the firm indicate the type of mind-bending future they envision for us all (Delfanti & Frey, 2021).

And yet who is building that future? Recent years have seen numerous stories about the horrors endured by workers throughout Amazon’s operations (Struna & Reese, 2020). Workers in the firm’s corporate offices report a culture of overwork, stress, and verbal abuse (Kantor & Streitfeld, 2015). But these white-collar workers have it relatively easy. Delivery drivers work punishing schedules, often forced to compete with one another to quicken their pace, at the expense of their own health, safety, and wellbeing (Alimahomed-Wilson, 2020). Even the independent companies contracted to deliver packages endure punishing forms of self-exploitation in the name of the massive corporation’s profits (Gurley, 2022). In what could have been taken directly from Orwell’s cautionary tale of the future in 1984, warehouse workers toil under conditions of staggering surveillance and micromanagement, often at a pace set by robots, and are forced to wear sensors that track their every gesture and vital sign to maximize efficiency (Delfanti, 2021). Then there are the gig workers on the firm’s Mechanical Turk (MTurk) platform, who compete from home against one another for digital micro-contracts often denominated at cents-per-second ratios and usually taking the form of medial data entry or simple coding tasks (Irani, 2015; Sherry, 2020). Often this work trains the very algorithms that will eventually replace them or other workers.

If Amazon is building the future, it is building it on the backs of its workers. And, indeed, many of its techniques seem the stuff of dystopian fantasy.

Around the world, workers are rebelling, forming trade unions and workers’ organizations (Alimahomed-Wilson & Reese, 2020). However, the infamous union-busting techniques of the firm in Bessemer, Alabama, which were condemned by the (by no means union-friendly) Labour Relations Board, indicate its violent and ruthless allergy to this kind of worker protagonism (Scheiber & Weise, 2022).  To push back against these anti-worker strategies, efforts are afoot, under the banner of the global Make Amazon Pay coalition and the American Athena coalition, to coordinate efforts of unions, workers’ centres, civil society organizations and other progressive forces to challenge Amazon’s power (Rubin, 2019; Smith, 2021).

And yet these efforts, as their protagonists would likely be the first to admit, are so deeply in the trenches they have a hard time making space and time to see the horizon. Beyond defending worker’s rights and seeking to halt the relentless advance of Amazon, it is imperative to envision alternate futures. The technology and wealth that, today, Amazon and other “technofeudalist” firms monopolize can and should be used to liberate humanity from toil, not institute an even more punishing regime of exploitation (Dean, 2020; Varoufakis, 2021).

How might such a future be envisioned, let alone instituted? What role will workers themselves have to play in imagining and stewarding its birth? What do workers themselves have to say? Strangely, few people seem to ask. But we did.

Studying speculative fiction with Amazon workers

In November and December of 2021, we recruited around 24 rank-and-file Amazon workers to watch speculative and science fiction (SF) shows with us and talk about the future. We met on Zoom once a week and workers were remunerated for their time. Together, we watched films including Snow Piercer, TV shows like Squid Game, Black Mirror and Star Trek, and played games from radical gamemaker Molleindustria that reflect on the conditions of digital workers. We asked the workers if and how this media content helped them reflect on their work at the corporation. The purpose wasn’t so much to gather data for academic research but to create a space where workers could theorize their experiences for themselves. It was open to both current workers and those who had recently left the company’s workforce, but not to managers. Participants were invited to use false names or no name to protect their identities.

The first thing we learned is that there are a lot of different kinds of workers at Amazon. In our group we had warehouse workers, delivery drivers, content writers, MTurk workers and data analysts from all across the United States, and some from Canada. They had vastly different cultural, linguistic, educational and economic backgrounds, which sometimes made dialogue challenging. Some were huge SF fans with encyclopaedic knowledge of the genre. Others were casual consumers. While some had clear political views on capitalism, in general they seemed happy to lead respectfully non-partisan discussions framed by the collective desire for a better future. Most were forthcoming about how difficult it was to work at Amazon and how demanding they found the company’s management tactics and relentless surveillance. But many were also happy to have the work, either because it provided a stable income or, in other cases, because it provided flexibility.

Most of the participants tended to identify strongly with the dystopian themes in the films and TV series we watched and the games we played. They almost universally felt that the future looked fairly bleak for workers (not only Amazon workers) and that it was likely that technological changes would serve the interests of the rich. Revealingly, many questioned the relevance of wealth in a crumbling world: Would class make much of a difference in the dismal, ecologically ravaged, war-torn future? But others were exasperated by this pessimism and encouraged us to think about what could be done today to prevent both a terrible future and continued hyper-exploitation.

One contradiction that came up again and again was that, while many workers spoke to the dystopian present and future, they also expressed an abstract optimism about their own personal circumstances. Several participants expressed the sentiment that we should stick together and help each other in facing the oppressor which was not necessarily Amazon but systems of inequality at large. Teamwork and working together to overcome challenges were major themes in our conversations, and often reflected in the media we watched together. Most workers also told us that feeling part of a team was the best thing about their job. They were almost all sceptical that Amazon management would ever recognize or appreciate their hard work. They talked a lot about how unfair they found the system of rewards and punishments on the job.  In its factories, Amazon brought back the 80s management fad of the “employee of the month” award to encourage hard work through internal competition. But the workers we talked with felt this was a largely dystopian gimmick. They also resented the constant technological “nudging” towards reward-seeking behaviour. For example, employees with repetitive positions are encouraged to fill out surveys while they work to earn minutes of vacation time.

Many watched or read SF, or played SF themed games as a way to escape from the demanding world of work itself, and so were less enthusiastic about taking critical positions on the content we watched together. Compounding this, some reacted so strongly to the dystopian themes (a few even calling it “triggering”) that they admitted to having difficulty watching or playing the games we had selected. And yet, there was a clear sense that sci-fi, especially dark and dystopian SF, was appealing to the group. Why would people who already lived and worked in what would probably appear to a time traveller from the past as a dystopian sci-fi scenario enjoy the genres? What interest did these texts offer to workers who are relentlessly surveilled, measured, controlled and pitted against one another by a huge corporation that literally uses their exploited energies to realise the megalomaniacal fantasies of their CEO to go to space?

            In our discussion, it became clear that watching SF film and TV was a form of escapist entertainment, a way of winding down after a hard day (or night, or week) of work. But why not romcoms, or period drama, or soap operas? Or why not more optimistic SF, like Star Trek? Certainly, the answer was different for all of the workers we spoke to, but we wonder if, on some level, the dystopian SF was somehow validating.

Methods for fictioning the future of work

In approaching this project, we wanted our research methodology to enable us to collectively labour with Amazon workers to think about and discuss the emerging paradigm of ‘platform capitalism’ under which they work. Under platform capitalism, the profit motive of increasingly concentrated corporations is augmented by the use of digital technology (Srnicek, 2016). Furthermore, workers access employment through the mediation of digital platforms, a process often related to the “gig economy” (Jones, 2021).  Far from the dream of robots liberating humans from toil, this shift has seen an increase in worker precariousness and a diminishment in workers’ capacity to organize collectively for their rights, as well as increased power in the hands of investors and senior management (Bananav, 2020).

Recently, a number of scholars have shown that Amazon is a pioneer in the use of digital technology for the discipline and exploitation of labour (Alimahomed-Wilson & Reese, 2020; Moore & Robinson, 2016). Amazon’s use of digital surveillance, robotics, and metrics to gain ever more productivity from their workers has become notorious as emblematic of the exploitative potential of today’s technology and a grim harbinger of the future of work (Delfanti, 2021; Zuboff, 2019). As numerous scholars argue, beyond the very material struggles workers face in platform capitalism, the paradigm also places the future itself in the hands of corporations that increasingly appear to act outside the scope of public regulation (Dyer-Witheford, 2015).

Our project seeks to contribute to an effervescence of research on Amazon, and on platform capitalism more broadly in a completely new way. While some scholars have focused on workers’ sentiments (Briken & Taylor, 2018; Irani, 2015), no study has examined their approach to the future. While other studies have used surveys or focus groups, none has explored creative writing as a methodology. And while SF has been theorized as a vehicle for critical consciousness raising, this has not been attempted with groups of workers.

To do so, our project draws on and combines in new ways three broad and established methodological approaches and theoretical areas of study.

The first, the Participatory Workers’ Inquiry, was initially developed in Italy in the 1970s and saw scholars approach workers as partners in theorizing the changing nature of capitalism (Woodcock, 2021). Often, this took the form of collective reading and discussion circles and represented a long-term commitment by scholars to a process of personal transformation in the research participants. This was undertaken primarily to help workers better strategize around their struggle for rights and compensation. In recent years, workers’ inquiry has been widely used as a methodology where scholars collaborate with precarious workers and/or those in rapidly changing sectors, the better to understand both workers’ lives and struggles and the broader systems of which they are a part (Brophy, 2017; Holland, 2020; Ovetz, 2020). Given this renewed interest in workers’ inquiry as a method, there is an opportunity to extend and situate this research-action approach in platform capitalism.

Our research, however, seeks to make a novel contribution to the workers’ inquiry methodology by being the first study to make SF and thinking about the future central to the process. By focusing on workers that labour within Amazon’s emergent forms of platform capitalism, their actual experiences and struggles are revealed. Here, our project aims to access what Geoghegan (1990) calls the “negative memories” of exploitation that might animate new forms of cooperation and struggle for workers’ rights with what Bloch (1996) calls a “concrete utopian” dimension. As Kelley (2002) argues, future visions that are catalyzed by such struggles have great potential value to society at large as they provide alternative pathways to social change.

In the second place, our approach is informed by the “convocation” method for researching the “radical imagination” developed by Haiven and Khasnabish (2014) based on theories of Cornelius Castoriadis (1997). Here, the imagination is approached as a collective process, rather than an individual cognitive function. The radical imagination emerges from everyday life and the collective experience of struggle against dominant power relations. Accordingly, Khasnabish and Haiven argue the role of the researcher of the imagination can include efforts to “convoke” the radical imagination by bringing research participants together to learn, create, debate and, in the term provided by Harney and Moten (2013), “study.”  The convocation method measures its success less by delivering data on research participants and more by how it supports them to theorize and reflect on their own experience. Since being introduced nearly a decade ago, the convocation method has been used many times by scholars working with social movements and communities in struggle. It has not yet been attempted with groups of workers and has not yet been integrated with SF or the practices of creative writing.

In the third case, our project draws on a strand of critical pedagogy that mobilizes SF genre, including films, novels, and games, to stimulate critical collective reflection on contemporary society (Truman, 2019). While SF has struggled to overcome its assigned status as a “paraliterature,” not to be taken seriously relative to canonical literature, increasingly both critics and reading publics have come to appreciate the genre for its ability to challenge the imagination (Broderick, 1995; Moylan, 2018). While typically set in the close or distant future, SF inevitably reflects the worldly concerns of the writer and the reader in their own time. In doing so, it enables readers to explore their assumptions about how the world functions, the nature of political relations, social norms and regimes of economic value. The critical power of SF is not in the blueprints of a future society that it offers, but the production of ideas and images that exist (Bloch, 1996) in opposition to what is (Suvin, 1997). At its best, SF can produce a generative estrangement evoked by the appearance of that which is “not yet” (Bloch, 1996). It can help “educate desire” to embolden resistance to the status quo (Levitas, 1997). While the SF genre was forged in the crucible of colonialism and can reinforce and reproduce hegemonic logics, the genre has seen a rise of diverse and subaltern voices over the past 60 years. In particular, the genre’s powers of cognitive estrangement have been especially successful when mobilized by oppressed groups including LGBTQ2+ people, Indigenous people and Black people (brown & Imarisha, 2015; Dillon, 2012).

SF’s critical powers are especially important in a moment of capitalism that, as Haiven (2014) argues, does not simply vanquish the imagination but seeks to harness it to make each social subject conform to its forms of value. As Jameson (2005) makes clear, SF is particularly useful in developing a critique of capitalism from within, a system that is uniquely structurally future-oriented. Amazon is particularly emblematic of this orientation towards the future. Researchers like McGurl (2021) have suggested the centrality of generic SF narrative to the firm’s public image and internal vision. This is clearly evidenced in Amazon’s founding CEO, Jeff Bezos’ frequent declarations of the importance of SF to his life, vision, and corporate strategy and has redirected his massive fortune towards a private space program to make his dreams for humanity a reality (Means & Slater, 2019).

In our project, we are not only interested in consuming SF with workers, but also supporting them to produce it. This approach follows and expands upon successful experiments by scholars and social movements and community educators who have used SF writing workshops as a way to catalyze a collective process of critical discovery. Perhaps best known is Imarisha and brown’s (2015) use of SF writing workshops to foster the imagination of social movement actors in the United States, which they have developed into a set of prompts for similar exercises that we will draw on extensively. Similarly, Truman (2019, 2021) has written on how writing SF can contribute to a feminist and anti-racist pedagogy of liberation in the university and high school classroom. Our project combines this broad approach with inspiration taken from projects like New York’s Workers Writing Workshop, which recognize the importance of supporting the creative writing of working people as a project of social justice but have not so far explored SF (Hsu, 2017). 

Is resistance futile?  

            Jeff Bezos, indelibly linked to Amazon, is intimately connected to the SF genre. In particular, he has at many points identified Star Trek as his single most important inspiration (Roberts & Andrews, 2021). Indeed, he considered naming Amazon makeitso.com after the catch phrase of his hero, Captain Jean-Luc Picard of Star Trek: The Next Generation, which aired new episodes from 1987 until 1994, the year Amazon’s predecessor company was founded. Bezos even styles his appearance on that of Patrick Stewart and is unabashed in his embrace of the thriving and obsessive nerd culture around the franchise. According to his own testimony, and those of other founders and executives, Bezos would regularly refer to Star Trek episodes in corporate strategy meetings and the series was in some senses pivotal to the internal culture of the company (Stone, 2013).

In fact, it is strongly suspected that Amazon was really an effort by the former financier to generate the wealth to launch his own private space program. In 2000 these efforts became reality with the creation of Blue Origin whose mantra is “Earth, in all its beauty, is just our starting place.” When the company was finally successful at launching manned rockets in 2021 one of the first “guests” was the actor William Shatner, famous for playing the maverick Captain Kirk on the original Star Trek series, which a young Bezos watched with an almost religious fervour.

Ironically, the empire Bezos created in some ways resembles the kind of dystopian world that his idolized intergalactic explorers might encounter and seek to liberate. In each incarnation of the franchise, Star Trek has dwelled on the social and philosophical issues related to the prospects of freedom, the nature of exploitation, and the possibilities of peace and cooperation across cultures. The noble United Federation of Planets was dreamed up by the series’ founder, Gene Roddenberry, as an antidote to the culture of fear and xenophobia fostered by the Cold War. He envisioned an interstellar alliance of species, including a multi-ethnic mix of humans, that, together, dedicated themselves to peace and exploration. In the journeys of their flagship starship Enterprise across multiple different series, the Federation encounters numerous planets and societies that act as allegories for our present-day earthly concerns.

Critics have noted that, in the Cold War, Star Trek often appeared as a benevolent fantasy of the American Empire, championing notions of individualist “freedom” in contrast to the collectivist pathologies of alien species (Sarantakes, 2005). But as the series developed it would also, at times, come to critique the kind of ruthless and reckless profiteering associated with capitalism (Hassler-Forest, 2016). However, the Federation is, ultimately, a postcapitalist fantasy based on the presumption that the development of technology will, by the 24th century, have largely eliminated the need for human toil and create a world of abundance and peace.

            If it is Bezos’ dream to create such a world, he seems to be more than willing to sacrifice the lives, health, and wellbeing of millions of workers to achieve it. The exploitative and abusive practices of the company, combined with the larger-than-life corporate culture and megalomaniacal (former) CEO all feel like they were scripted with a heavy hand in the Star Trek writing room: some producer evidently let the concept slide by, without sending it back with a note saying, “too on the nose: make the allegory for the evils of capitalism more subtle or we’ll lose the audience.”

            If Star Trek has been such a large influence on Amazon’s development, perhaps there are clues within its plotlines and tropes that might help us unpack the firm’s deeper dimensions.  In 1997, two years after it started selling books online, Amazon was publicly listed on the New York Stock Exchange. In that same year Star Trek Voyager, then in its fourth season of network syndication, introduced the character Seven of Nine. Seven was a cyborg that the ship’s crew rescued from the Borg, a hive-minded alien species that, since their first appearance in the series in 1989, have terrorized the Federation and its heroes. Like her counterparts in The Collective, before being ‘assimilated’ Seven was once an intelligent, independent human. However, upon being abducted as a child by the virus-like horde they were transformed into a powerful robotic drone dedicated to their collective mission of doing the same to all intelligent, independent lifeforms in the universe. Their monotone mantra, “resistance is futile,” has become so stitched into popular culture its origins have been largely forgotten.

Separated from her fellow drones, Seven eventually reclaims some sense of her individuality and morality and joins Voyager as part of its diverse crew. Her humanity recaptured, she becomes an invaluable strategic asset, not only for her superior strength, endurance, and intellectual capacities, but also because, having once been part of the hive mind, she has special insight into and even contact with it. Now part of the resistance to the Borg’s endless, viral growth, her intimate, embodied knowledge becomes a source of hope.

            Is Amazon The Borg? Will they continue their parasitic expansion to claim ever more ever spheres of life? Addressing their victims, The Borg promise to “add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own” and reassure them that their cultural particularities will “adapt to service us”? As more and more industries fall to Amazon’s relentless, digitally-augmented expansion or recast themselves around its model, the metaphor is tempting. Certainly, it resonates with scenes of warehouses where workers wear sensors linked to Amazon servers, measuring and subtly “nudging” their movements to ensure efficiency in the service of profit. Though they retain their individuality and are framed by the company as “entrepreneurs,” the image of thousands of MTurk workers at computer terminals around the world racing to fulfil endless, mundane digital microtasks fed to them by an Amazon proprietary system transforms these workers into something not unlike drones. Amazon’s fleet of delivery drivers, who are constantly being nudged to do their work faster through arcane digital systems is not altogether foreign. Sure, all these workers are allowed to retain their sense of individual selfhood. Unlike the Borg, they are technically free to quit at any time. But how much does that matter in an economy where increasingly every firm is learning from or being “disrupted” by Amazon’s model?

We speculate that, like Seven of Nine, Amazon workers may have some special insight and intuition of how to resist and rebel not only at the level of their conscious intellectual      reflections but encoded in their very bodies. Workers are, of course, categorically excluded from management decision-making and strategy. The algorithms that govern their bodies and time are opaque. And yet our SF-inspired conjecture is that workers intuit something about the firm and the future it is building by virtue of having been bodily assimilated into spaces and mindsets prescribed by Amazon’s corporate demands. Though their access to and power over Amazon’s “collective intelligence” is limited, they are still in some sense possessed by it and so have some preternatural awareness of it.

If that’s the case, then rank and file Amazon workers themselves may have the most important insights about how to challenge the company’s future-making machine. The wager of our project is that, by creating welcoming, convivial, and creative spaces we can work with Amazon workers to awaken their secret insight into the future-making (or future-killing) power of their exploiter. By using the genre of SF, so pivotal to Amazon’s foundation and operations, we might be able to labour together to envision a near-future world beyond Amazon’s grasp, where the potential to co-create a future is shared democratically, rather than hoarded by a corporate oligarchy. 

Works citedAlimahomed-Wilson, J. (2020). The Amazonification of Logistics: E-Commerce, Labor, and Exploitation in the Last Mile. In J. Alimahomed-Wilson & E. Reese (Eds.), The Amazonification of Logistics: E-Commerce, Labor, and Exploitation in the Last Mile. London and New York: Pluto.Alimahomed-Wilson, J., Allison, J., & Reese, E. (2020). Amazon Capitalism. In J. Alimahomed-Wilson & E. Reese (Eds.), The Cost of Free Shipping: Amazon in theGlobal Economy (pp. 1–18). London and New York: Pluto.Alimahomed-Wilson, J., & Reese, E. (Eds.). (2020). The Cost of Free Shipping Amazon in the Global Economy. London and New York: Pluto.Bananav, A. (2020). Automation and the Future of Work. London and New York: Berso.Bloch, E. (1996). The Principle of Hope, Volume One (N. Plaice, S. Plaice, & P. Knight, Trans.). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.Brevini, B., & Swiatek, L. (2021). Amazon: Understanding a Global Communication Giant. New York and London: Routledge.Briken, K., & Taylor, P. (2018). Fulfilling the ‘British way’: beyond constrained choice—Amazon workers’ lived experiences of workfare. Industrial Relations Journal, 49(5–6), 438–458. https://doi.org/10.1111/irj.12232Broderick, D. (1995). Reading by Starlight: Postmodern Science Fiction. London and New York: Routledge.Brophy, E. (2017). Language put to work: The Making of the global call centre workforce. London and New York: Palgrave Macmillan.
brown, adrienne maree, & Imarisha, W. (Eds.). (2015). Octavia’s Brood: Oakland: AK Press.Castoriadis, C. (1997). The Castoriadis Reader (D. A. Curtis, Ed.; [“Curtis &  David Ames”], Trans.). Oxford and Malden, MA: Blackwell.Davis, M. (2020). Five Processes in the Platformisation of Cultural Production: Amazon and its Publishing Ecosystem. Australian Humanities Review, 66. Retrieved from http://australianhumanitiesreview.org/2020/05/31/five-processes-in-the-platformisation-of-cultural-production-amazon-and-its-publishing-ecosystem/#bioDean, J. (2020, May 12). Neofeudalism: The End of Capitalism? Los Angeles Review of Books. Retrieved from https://lareviewofbooks.org/article/neofeudalism-the-end-of-capitalism/Delfanti, A. (2021). The Warehouse: Workers and Robots at Amazon. London and New York: Pluto.Delfanti, A., & Frey, B. (2021). Humanly Extended Automation or the Future of Work Seen through Amazon Patents. Science, Technology, & Human Values, 46(3), 655–682. https://doi.org/10.1177/0162243920943665Dillon, G.L. (Ed.). (2012). Walking the Clouds: An anthology of indigenous science fiction. Tuscon: University of Arizona Press.Doctorow, C. (2020, September 18). We Need to Talk About Audible. Publishers Weekly. Retrieved from https://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/by-topic/industry-news/libraries/article/84384-we-need-to-talk-about-audible.htmlDyer-Witheford, N. (2015). Cyber-Proletariat: Global Labour in the Digital Vortex. London and New York: Pluto.Geoghegan, V. (1990). Remembering the Future. Utopian Studies, 1(2), 52–68.Gurley, L. K. (2022, March 7). ‘I Had Nothing to My Name’: Amazon Delivery Companies Are Being Crushed by Debt. Vice. Retrieved from Haiven, M. (2014). Crises of Imagination, Crises of Power: Capitalism, Creativity and the Commons. London and New York: ZedHaiven, M., & Khasnabish, A. (2014). The Radical Imagination: Social Movement Research in the Age of Austerity. London and New York: Zed Books.Harney, S., & Moten, F. (2013). The Undercommons: Fugitive Planning and Black Study. Wivenhoe: Minor Compositions.Hassler-Forest, D. (2016). Star Trek, global capitalism and immaterial labour. Science Fiction Film & Television, 9(3), 371–391. https://doi.org/10.3828/sfftv.2016.9.11Holland, J. (2020). Amazon Inquiry. Inquiry. Retrieved from notesfrombelow.org/article/amazon-inq..., J. (2021). Amazon Go, surveillance capitalism, and the ideology of convenience. Economic Anthropology, 8(2), 337–349. https://doi.org/10.1002/sea2.12211Irani, L. (2015). Difference and Dependence among Digital Workers: The Case of Amazon Mechanical Turk. South Atlantic Quarterly, 114(1), 225–234. https://doi.org/10.1215/00382876-2831665Jameson, F. (2005). Archaeologies of the Future: The Desire Called Utopia and Other Science Fictions. London and New York: Verso.Jones, P. (2021). Work Without the Worker: Labour in the Age of Platform Capitalism. London and New York: Verso.Kantor, J., & Streitfeld, D. (2015, August 15). Inside Amazon: Wrestling Big Ideas in a Bruising Workplace. The New York Times. Retrieved from https://www.nytimes.com/2015/08/16/technology/inside-amazon-wrestling-big-ideas-in-a-bruising-workplace.htmlKelley, R. D. G. (2002). Freedom dreams: the black radical imagination. Boston: Beacon.
Levitas, R. (1997). Educated Hope: Ernst Bloch on Abstract and Concrete Utopia. In J. O. Daniel & T. Moylan (Eds.), Not Yet: Reconsidering Ernst Bloch. London and New York: Verso.Levy, S. (2021, June 11). Jeff Bezos Risks It All for His Space Dream. Wired. Retrieved from https://www.wired.com/story/bezoss-space-shot-is-one-small-step-toward-his-bigger-goal/McGurl, M. (2021). Everything and Less: The Novel in the Age of Amazon. London and New York: Verso.Means, A. J., & Slater, G. B. (2019). The dark mirror of capital: on post-neoliberal formations and the future of education. Discourse: Studies in the Cultural Politics of Education, 40(2), 1–14. https://doi.org/10.1080/01596306.2019.1569876Moore, P., & Robinson, A. (2016). The quantified self: What counts in the neoliberal workplace. New Media & Society, 18(11), 2774–2792. https://doi.org/10.1177/1461444815604328Moylan, T. (2018). Scraps of the Untainted Sky: Science fiction, utopia, dystopia. London and New York: Routledge.Nosthoff, A.-V., & Maschewski, F. (2021, October 25). Big Tech Won’t Make Health Care Any Better. Jacobin. Retrieved from https://www.jacobinmag.com/author/anna-verena-nosthoffOvetz, R. (Ed.). (2020). Workers’ Inquiry and Global Class Struggle: Strategies, Tactics, Objectives. London and New York: Pluto.Roberts, R., & Andrews, T. M. (2021). The love affair between Jeff Bezos and ‘Star Trek.’ Retrieved from https://www.seattletimes.com/entertainment/the-love-affair-between-jeff-bezos-and-star-trek/Rubin, B. F. (2019, November 26). Athena, a new anti-Amazon coalition, comes together to fight the e-commerce giant. CNET. Retrieved from https://www.cnet.com/tech/services-and-software/athena-a-new-anti-amazon-coalition-comes-together-to-fight-the-e-commerce-giant/Sarantakes, N. E. (2005). Cold War Pop Culture and the Image of U.S. Foreign Policy: The Perspective of the Original Star Trek Series. Journal of Cold War Studies, 7(4), 74–103. https://doi.org/10.1162/1520397055012488Scheiber, N., & Weise, K. (2022, February 4). Amazon Warehouse in Alabama Is Set to Begin Second Union Election. The New York Times. Retrieved from https://www.nytimes.com/2022/02/04/business/amazon-alabama-union-election.htmlSherry. (2020). Living as a Turker. In From the Workplace: A Collection of Worker Writing (pp. 23–31). Notes from Below. Retrieved from https://notesfrombelow.org/issue/workplaceSmith, A. (2021, November 18). ‘Make Amazon Pay’ campaign to launch global strike against shopping giant on Black Friday. The Independent. Retrieved from https://www.independent.co.uk/news/business/amazon-black-friday-strike-campaign-b1959487.htmlSrnicek, N. (2016). Platform Capitalism. Cambridge: Polity.
Stone, B. (2013). The Everything Store: Jeff Bezos and the Age of Amazon. New York: Back Bay.Struna, J., & Reese, E. (2020). Automation and the Surveillance-Driven Warehouse in Inland Southern California. In J. Alimahomed-Wilson & E. Reese (Eds.), The Cost of Free Shipping: Amazon in the Global Economy (pp. 85–101). London and New York: Pluto.Suvin, D. (1997). Metamorphoses of Science Fiction: On the poetics and history of a literary genre. New Haven CT: Yale University Press.Truman, S. E. (2019). SF! Haraway’s Situated Feminisms and Speculative Fabulations in English Class. Studies in Philosophy and Education, 38(1), 31–42. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11217-018-9632-5Truman, S. E. (2021). Feminist Speculations and the Practice of Research-Creation: Writing Pedagogies and Intertextual Affects. London and New York: Routledge.Varoufakis, Y. (2021, June 28). Techno-Feudalism Is Taking Over. Project Syndicate. Retrieved from https://www.project-syndicate.org/commentary/techno-feudalism-replacing-market-capitalism-by-yanis-varoufakis-2021-06Williams, D. M. (2020). Power Accrues to the Powerful: Amazon’s Market Share, Customer Surveillance, and Internet Dominance. In J. Alimahomed-Wilson & E. Reese (Eds.), The Cost of Free Shipping: Amazon in the Global Economy (pp. 35–49). London and New York: Pluto.Woodcock, J. (2021). Towards a Digital Workerism: Workers’ Inquiry, Methods, and Technologies. NanoEthics, 15(1), 87–98. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11569-021-00384-wZuboff, S. (2019). The Age of Surveillance Capitalism: The Fight for a Human Future at the New Frontier of Power. New York: Public Affairs.

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Published on April 20, 2022 00:37

April 11, 2022

Clue-Anon

A bluffing game about why conspiracies are so fun… and so dangerous

Status: playtesting and workshops

Availability: print-on-demand prototype and in-person workshops

This game has its origins in the Conspiracy Games and Countergames project initiated by Max Haiven, Aris Komporozos-Athanasiou and A.T. Kingsmith to explore the connections between the rise of conspiracism and the gamification of financialized capitalism.

Clue-Anon is a tabletop game that encourages 3-4 players to think about what gives rise to conspiracy fantasies: not only fear, disinformation and paranoia, but also creativity, collectivity and (dangerous) fun. In it, players claim to be trying to discover a conspiracy, but must also fabulate a conspiracy theory in order to beguile their opponents. Moreover, each player must take on a character whose motivations are usually far from simply learning the truth: the Youtube Grifter is obsessed with gaining followers… the Media Corporation is in it for the money… and the Troll Army just wants chaos…

Clue-Anon has been played in workshops at the Athens School of Fine Art, the University College London Institute for Advanced Studies, the Singapore Civil Service College, and the Moos Residency.

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Published on April 11, 2022 09:22

April 1, 2022

Palm Oil: The Grease of Empire (excerpt)

This excerpt, from the introduction of Palm Oil: The Grease of Empire appeared on the publisher’s blog on April 1, 2022.

We find ourselves in a system of racial capitalism that appears as a vast, globe-spanning system of mystified human sacrifice, hidden in plain sight. The stories I tell in Palm Oil trace this system’s contours and seek answers in its past. These are stories of how one largely invisible thing emerged from the nexus of capitalism, colonialism, and empire to define the cruelties of our world. Secreted within it is a story of our collective power to transform the world for the better. The story of palm oil is our story. This almost magical and ubiquitous substance is part of the way our bodies reproduce themselves and the way our material world is reproduced. It is a key element in the vortex of labor, commodities, meaning-making, and social relationships that make up the world in which we live.

Nearly every element of the process that now finds you reading these words could have been touched or facilitated by palm oil: it could be an additive in the paper, a stabilizer in the ink, or part of the resin in the binding of the book; it is almost certainly either inside or essential to the manufacture of one of the hundreds of the components of the digital electronic device on which I am typing these words, and on which you might be reading them. It’s probable that one of the transport vehicles that conveyed these artefacts to you burned hydrocarbons that included palm oil-derived agrofuels. And it must be taken as given that the body and brain that writes and that reads has been reproduced, in part, through the metabolism of palm oil. We have both used palm oil products to clean or care for our skin. We have ingested palm oil as a carrier of medicines. Though I suspect neither of us are intentionally investors in the palm oil industry, we are nonetheless economically entangled with it. The money that we receive for our labor is blood in the same ocean. Though it derives from a natural source, we created refined palm oil as it exists today, and it has, in turn, helped to created us.

Red, virgin palm oil has been an intimate and vital part of the life of West African peoples for thousands of years, providing food, medicine and cosmetics and serving as a unit of exchange and a spiritual sacrament in many diverse ways.  But the form of palm oil that you and I know is something else entirely: industrially produced derivatives of the palm fruit can, like a god with many faces, appear as some 200 different ingredients in nutritional, industrial, and cleansing products around the world.8 RBD (refined, bleached, and deodorized) oil has become a staple of the diets of billions of people, especially poor people, around the world. This globally traded, indifferent commodity emerges from intensive processing plants, predominantly located in Indonesia and Malaysia, but also in West Africa and Latin America, typically on clear-cut or razed lands that once sustained rainforest, though they may have taken many other forms since. Fertilizer, pesticide, and herbicide used in the intensive cultivation of this cash crop has, more often than not, found its way into local waterways. At these factories, as well as at the nearby plantations on which lab-germinated oil palms grow in neat rows, most of the workers are, in one way or another, displaced, sometimes for multiple generations. Perhaps it was civil war, perhaps imperialist-backed counter-insurgency campaigns, perhaps the ecological impacts of mining, perhaps land grabbing, perhaps it was government or international “development” incentives seeking to relocate workers to locales more convenient for corporations in need of cheap labor. As a result, palm oil workers are now typically dependent on precarious employment for a means of buying the necessities of life.

Today, you and I find palm oil, palm kernel oil or derivatives of these substances in an estimated 50% of the world’s supermarket foods, predominantly in industrially produced, processed foods like packaged baked goods, edible spreads, ramen noodles, dairy products, and snack foods. But palm oil also enters us in trace amounts in a mind-boggling diversity of preservatives, emulsifiers, stabilizers, coagulants and additives. Palm oil’s unique chemical composition and extreme cheapness makes it a perfect base or additive to industrially produced foods to afford a long shelf life and facilitate transit through globe-spanning networks of trade. It covers us, too: it is in the lion’s share of cosmetics (though some higher-end brands occasionally boast of avoiding it). It is an important element in the production of plastics, dyes, inks, paints, and even paper products, including product packaging. It is in many of the lozenges, pills, suppositories, and other consumer and professional medical products that we use to transform our bodies. And it is also present in a multitude of industrial and manufacturing products and processes, notably in the surfactants that are an important part of machine lubricants, dying and tinting processes, detergents, and a dizzying array of other processes. Globally, 72-million metric tons of refined palm oil was consumed in 2020, roughly 20 pounds per human being. Its intensive cultivation has transformed our planet: over 27 million hectares of the earth’s surface is under palm oil cultivation, an area greater than the size of New Zealand and approximately equivalent to all the agricultural land in France. The clearing of forest and especially peatland for palm oil cultivation adds significant quantities of carbon to the earth’s atmosphere—an estimated 6% of global annual emission—contributing to the dire, if unevenly distributed, risks of climate change.

Our story will necessarily begin with the origins of the global commodity of palm oil in the European colonization of West Africa in the nineteenth century, where whole civilizations and millions of lives were sacrificed on the altar of that three-faced god: capitalist accumulation, white supremacist ideology, and inter-imperialist rivalry. We will visit nineteenth century Liverpool, where palm oil literally and figuratively lubricated the wheels of empire and furnished rich and poor alike with new commodities like soap. We will travel with some tender seedlings on steamships with palm-greased engines to South East Asia, to British and Dutch colonies where imperial powers took advantage of the social, economic, and environmental disjuncture they themselves had unleashed to open up new lands for palm oil plantations, and to recruit dispossessed and migrant workers, often through techniques of debt bondage. Today the independent nations of Malaysia and Indonesia are undisputed palm oil superpowers, though the legacies of colonialism remain pivotal in the industry. We will follow the oil as it seeps through the fabric of our world, becoming the fat of the world’s poor and the grease of capital’s global empire.

In this short book I am trying to understand something that is abundantly obvious and yet somehow also unseeable: this system seems to be a vast and merciless organization of human sacrifice. The relentless logic of the market insists that the millions of needless deaths from malnutrition, toxic poisoning, overwork, sabotaged migration, climate chaos, or neo-imperialist wars are somehow accidental, incidental, or inevitable. By following palm oil, I want us to recognize the way we are all bound up in a global paradigm none of us chose, but that benefits some vastly more than others, and places so many on the altar of accumulation.

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Published on April 01, 2022 06:38

March 17, 2022

Entangled Legacies: Race, finance and inequality (Manchester University Press)

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Coming in December of 2022 from Manchester University Press, edited by Paul Gilbert, Clea Bourne, Max Haiven and Johnna Montgomerie: Entangled Legacies: Race, finance and inequality.

https://manchesteruniversitypress.co.uk/9781526163431/


Over 25 contributors from around the world have prepared short, accessible essays that take a striking image as a starting point to explore how today’s global financial structures are haunted by the ghosts of empire.


Written for newcomers and specialists alike, this unique collection traces the legacies of racism, colonialism and imperialism across a broad range of examples, from the City of London to the Australian outback, from Angola’s railways to China’s ghost cities, from the depths of the ocean to the ethereal world of data. It also tells stories of resistance and contestation, from Maori banks to radical muralists, from subtle gestures to mass uprisings.


With chapters on global commodities ranging from oil to clothing to the popular drink Milo, the authors in this collection take an interdisciplinary approach, melding political economy with cultural analysis, critical geography with historical acumen.


This book is both a fascinating journey for readers and an invaluable tool for teachers in many fields seeking to awaken students’ curiosity about how the global capitalist economy emerged from and reproduces racialized inequalities.


Provisional table of contents Introduction  Clea Bourne, Paul Gilbert, Max Haiven & Johnna Montgomerie  PART 1: BLOWOUTS   1Pumpjacks, playgrounds & cheap lives
Imre Szeman   2‘Boom’
Tracy Lassiter   3Spillcam
Alysse Kushinski PART 2: CIRCULATIONS   4Te Peeke o Aotearoa: Colonial and Decolonial Finance in Aotearoa New Zealand, 1860s-1890s
Catherine Cumming   5Both sides of the coin: Miss Liberty and the construction of ‘the New Native’ on currency in Oregon’s colonial period
Ashley Cordes   6Milo
Syahirah Abdul Rahman     PART 3: BORDERS   7‘The trust will pursue debt through all means necessary’
Kathryn Medien   8Hunger or indebtedness? Enforcing migrant destitution, racializing debt
Eve Dickson, Rachel Rosen, and Kehinde Sorinmade   9Libre: Debt, discipline and humanitarian pretension
Christian Rossipal     PART 4: EMERGENCE   10‘Afro-pessmism’ and emerging markets finance
Ilias Alami   11Dreams of extractive development: reviving the Benguela Railway in central Angola
Jon Schubert   12Spectral Cities and Rare Earth Mining in the North China Plain
Linsey Ly     PART 5: GESTURES   13Italy, Libya and the EU: co-dependent systems and interweaving imperial interests at the Mediterranean border
Alessandra Ferrini   14Racial capitalism and settler colonisation in Australia: Australian debts to Gurindji economies
Holly Eva Katherine Randell-Moon   15Connected by a Blue Sweater: Ethical Narratives of Philanthrocapitalist Development
Zenia Kish     PART 6: PLAY   16Eternal conflict
Oded Nir   17I am your dividend
Ben Stork     PART 7: CONTROL   18The shape of the stock exchange is shapelessness
Laura Kalba   19Data centre seance: telepathic surveillance capitalism, psychic debt and colonialism
Jacquelene Drinkall   PART 8: IMAGINARIES   20Mesoamérica Resiste: Staging the Battle over Mesoamerica – Capitalist Fantasies vs. Grassroots Liberation
Debbie Samaniego & Felix Mantz   21Extractive scars & the lightness of finance
Maria Dyveke Styve   22Imagined maps of racial capitalism
Gargi Bhattacharyya   

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Published on March 17, 2022 01:30

Entangled Legacies: Race, finance and inequality

[image error]

Coming in December of 2022 from Manchester University Press, edited by Paul Gilbert, Clea Bourne, Max Haiven and Johnna Montgomerie: Entangled Legacies: Race, finance and inequality.

https://manchesteruniversitypress.co.uk/9781526163431/


Over 25 contributors from around the world have prepared short, accessible essays that take a striking image as a starting point to explore how today’s global financial structures are haunted by the ghosts of empire.


Written for newcomers and specialists alike, this unique collection traces the legacies of racism, colonialism and imperialism across a broad range of examples, from the City of London to the Australian outback, from Angola’s railways to China’s ghost cities, from the depths of the ocean to the ethereal world of data. It also tells stories of resistance and contestation, from Maori banks to radical muralists, from subtle gestures to mass uprisings.


With chapters on global commodities ranging from oil to clothing to the popular drink Milo, the authors in this collection take an interdisciplinary approach, melding political economy with cultural analysis, critical geography with historical acumen.


This book is both a fascinating journey for readers and an invaluable tool for teachers in many fields seeking to awaken students’ curiosity about how the global capitalist economy emerged from and reproduces racialized inequalities.


Provisional table of contents Introduction  Clea Bourne, Paul Gilbert, Max Haiven & Johnna Montgomerie  PART 1: BLOWOUTS   1Pumpjacks, playgrounds & cheap lives
Imre Szeman   2‘Boom’
Tracy Lassiter   3Spillcam
Alysse Kushinski PART 2: CIRCULATIONS   4Te Peeke o Aotearoa: Colonial and Decolonial Finance in Aotearoa New Zealand, 1860s-1890s
Catherine Cumming   5Both sides of the coin: Miss Liberty and the construction of ‘the New Native’ on currency in Oregon’s colonial period
Ashley Cordes   6Milo
Syahirah Abdul Rahman     PART 3: BORDERS   7‘The trust will pursue debt through all means necessary’
Kathryn Medien   8Hunger or indebtedness? Enforcing migrant destitution, racializing debt
Eve Dickson, Rachel Rosen, and Kehinde Sorinmade   9Libre: Debt, discipline and humanitarian pretension
Christian Rossipal     PART 4: EMERGENCE   10‘Afro-pessmism’ and emerging markets finance
Ilias Alami   11Dreams of extractive development: reviving the Benguela Railway in central Angola
Jon Schubert   12Spectral Cities and Rare Earth Mining in the North China Plain
Linsey Ly     PART 5: GESTURES   13Italy, Libya and the EU: co-dependent systems and interweaving imperial interests at the Mediterranean border
Alessandra Ferrini   14Racial capitalism and settler colonisation in Australia: Australian debts to Gurindji economies
Holly Eva Katherine Randell-Moon   15Connected by a Blue Sweater: Ethical Narratives of Philanthrocapitalist Development
Zenia Kish     PART 6: PLAY   16Eternal conflict
Oded Nir   17I am your dividend
Ben Stork     PART 7: CONTROL   18The shape of the stock exchange is shapelessness
Laura Kalba   19Data centre seance: telepathic surveillance capitalism, psychic debt and colonialism
Jacquelene Drinkall   PART 8: IMAGINARIES   20Mesoamérica Resiste: Staging the Battle over Mesoamerica – Capitalist Fantasies vs. Grassroots Liberation
Debbie Samaniego & Felix Mantz   21Extractive scars & the lightness of finance
Maria Dyveke Styve   22Imagined maps of racial capitalism
Gargi Bhattacharyya   

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Published on March 17, 2022 01:30

March 9, 2022

Genres Against Markets workshop, Berlin July 11-15

If you aren’t automatically redirected, please visit https://reimaginingvalue.ca/genres/

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Published on March 09, 2022 07:03

February 9, 2022

I Dream of DeFi: A Conversation (Flash Art)

Original –> https://flash—art.com/2021/01/defi-decentralization-crypto-art/

I Dream of DeFi. A Conversation with Ruth Catlow, Max Grünberg, Max Haiven, Aude Launay, and Denise Thwaites, curated by Alex Estorick

Image: “ReVisioning the Virtual Wall: Border Soldier, Luckauer Strasse,” by T+T (Tamiko Thiel), 2009. Digital Giclee Print 140 x 70 cm on Hahnemuehle Baryta Paper, mounted on Alu-Dibond.

With the value of NFTs apparently folded into the volatile fortunes of cryptocurrency, art and money’s deadly dance appears to have accelerated. Given the prevalence of new hegemonic actors and hierarchies in the cryptosphere, DeFi’s potential to democratize finance looks fated, if not fundamentally compromised. In recent years, a new community of scholars and commentators has surveyed the prospects for decentralization. Here they reflect on crypto art’s place in capitalism’s changing state.

Alex Estorick: On balance, does the blockchain do more to challenge or to renew capitalism? Are there substantial and not simply hypothetical ways it challenges capitalist power?

Ruth Catlow: No technology can challenge or renew capitalism in and of itself. Blockchains as creators of bank-and-state-free money are certainly a challenge to the role of nation states in global capitalism. But the question is whether this supports or impedes solidarity and collective action to distribute power and resources. We can worry about the libertarian flavor of Bitcoin’s digital money that prioritizes individual rights and freedoms (over state taxes and surveillance) and boils the oceans with its energy-hungry protocol. And at the same time, E. Stefen Deleveaux of the Caribbean Blockchain Alliance talks about the power of blockchains “to enable the fight against imperialism” by democratizing access to basic financial services like remittances, currently unavailable to many under the global financial regime. Meanwhile the cultures surrounding programmable blockchains like Ethereum — that are the basis for tokenization and NFTs — make it newly possible to attach collective decision-making tools to cryptocurrencies and the behavior and distribution of digital assets in entirely new ways. This lends some validity to the claims of the democratizing potential of blockchains.

Blockchains need an injection of feminist economics. Without a focus on care and the participation of more diverse human and more-than-human interests, the blockchain will accelerate and amplify the most damaging aspects of capitalism by incentivizing automated extraction of value from living systems with no regard for the health of individuals, society, or the environment. This is why the vision and realization of cooperatively owned and run cultural projects like Resonate and DisCo, and the artist-led UBI project Circles, are so important.

Aude Launay: As with every technology, blockchain does what one uses it for. So, on the side of the corporate and the state applications, we may not be on the edge of a revolution, but there are already countless blockchain-based projects that are deeply challenging the capitalist system — DeFi protocols and DAOs (decentralized autonomous organizations) — and putting people in charge of their own interests.

Max Haiven: Though I have heard and read many theoretical arguments, I have yet to be convinced that blockchain technologies can actually challenge capitalist power as it stands today. To me, to truly challenge capitalism would mean more than simply creating the circumstances where people can compete with one another in the market more fairly. It would mean devising fundamentally new ways of organizing the cooperation between humans, and between humans and the more-than-human world (e.g. “nature”). I think there’s some very interesting potential in emergent technology for this revolution in human cooperation, but I think, in part because of its origins in Bitcoin, in part because of the sheer quantity of fast money flying around these days, the vast majority of blockchain schemes tend to be stained by the belief that, if only we could perfect money, exchange, and competition, we would be able to transform society. But the problem of capitalism is not and has never been about the exchange of wealth; it lies in the way in which a society produces value. Value production isn’t just a matter of marginal utility, which is to say getting people what they want. It’s a question of how cooperation transforms the material world. I’m certainly curious to see if these technologies have the potential to allow us to organize and coordinate our cooperation for the production of value differently.

Max Grünberg: If we think of capitalism as a mode of production characterized by profit-oriented commodity exchange and private production, protected by bourgeois laws and property rights, it is questionable whether blockchain is the technology to overcome this logic, as money is woven into its core. Smart contracts are nothing but a mechanism to control automatically the flow of money on a blockchain. Vitalik Buterin (co-founder of Ethereum) once described how blockchains automate away the center. But sometimes these centers have a function in protecting workers, and one should ask oneself who benefits from this decentralized and automated future. Is it really the workers or the entrepreneurs building the infrastructure?

Denise Thwaites: I think we are at a point in public discourse where we need to question what we mean by “the blockchain.” There are different kinds of public and private blockchain, as well as other distributed-ledger systems that ride the blockchain wave of interest. These have the potential to challenge or further entrench capitalist ways of organizing labor and producing value. For every grassroots communitarian approach to using blockchain, we can find major banks, auction houses, and tech companies staking their territory in this technological field.

AE: Are there aesthetic or political criteria by which we might evaluate crypto art, or can we only judge it on a market basis?

AL: I do not see why crypto art should be evaluated in a different way than any other form of visual art. And I am not talking about medium specificity here, since crypto art can be any kind of art attached to a token which is, in a nutshell, nothing more than proof of ownership of the token itself. What strikes me is more the use of the term “art” than the use of the term “crypto” here. The use of the appellation “art” for productions as diverse as internet memes and animated GIFs with a humorous or aesthetic aim, and the presence of these objects — possibly produced by professional artists but equally possibly by “everyone” — on NFT platforms, operates a blurring of the traditional castes of the art world that I find fascinating.

MH: I think in the latest gold rush for NFTs there’s a fairly transparent relationship between price and artistic value: those works that tend to be seen and circulate are those that have jaw-dropping prices attached to them. I understand that there are very interesting and thoughtful artists working in the space, and from what I’ve seen their work tends to be more conceptual in nature, asking its audience to question the very logics, grammars, and technologies on which they are based. I think both of these tendencies are the result of this medium — if we can call it that — being quite new. Like most contemporary art, newness is perhaps the most saleable quality. I’m curious: if indeed the NFT and crypto art have any durability, what will art critics in twenty or thirty years time make of it and what kinds of analysis and judgment will they apply to separate truly remarkable work from the endless derivative dross? Frankly, most of it looks fairly derivative to me, often derivative of fan cultures that reflect the interests of collectors, who tend or appear to be young men with little to no interest in art history.

DT: Recently, New Zealand artist Jess Johnson (in conversation with Jane O’Sullivan) compared the dynamics of certain NFT markets to her experience at zine fairs, where creative communities engage in playful experimentation with new ways of making and distributing their work. While dominant NFT market aesthetics seem to favor graphic Beeple-style designs imbued with memes and pop culture references, it will be interesting to see (a) if this form of cultural production continues in the years to come, and (b) whether a distinctive aesthetic or political criteria emerges to identify “seminal” NFTs, in the way we now retrospectively analyze zines. Will these criteria be “purely aesthetic,” or influenced by the historic price they achieved? As with any form of art, we may find it hard to disentangle these social, economic, and cultural hierarchies from our aesthetic judgments of NFTs.

RC: The market seems to know what it likes: firsts, established brands, and art establishment endorsement. But it has also been heartening to see a number of early pioneers of net art like Auriea Harvey, Rhea Myers, and Tamiko Thiel find a market for conceptually rigorous, critical, and net-native works. Terra0, the self-owned forest, is an early example of a blockchain-based artwork about the politics and possibly the governance of living systems on the blockchain. Furtherfield’s CultureStake goes one step further in decentralizing power and resources in the art world by inviting the public to decide what’s important and then recording their answers on untamperable blockchains. This web-based voting system underpins the Peoples Park Plinth program in Finsbury Park, allowing people to vote on the types of cultural activity they would like to see in their locality using quadratic voting (QV) on the blockchain to put decentralized tech to radical, new, emancipatory use in the cultural sector. We can also imagine this system being put to use by a city council needing to find out which new artwork should occupy a recently vacated public plinth.

MG: Although, like with the rest of the crypto community, it might be an ethnographic goldmine regarding capital’s power to constantly create the other from within, concerning aesthetics I despise crypto art for the most part as it is a parochial form of art, which for the most part is only created to flatter the Lamborghini-driving cohort of early crypto accumulators. All the recurring motifs of Elon, doges, and symbols of various crypto currencies simply reveal how limited this imaginary really is.

AE: What can the market for NFTs and other decentralized digital assets tell us about capitalism, where it’s going, and how to contest it?

MH: Decentralization is not, in and of itself, a means towards economic or social justice. A territory ruled by rival warlords, rather than a central government, is a decentralized hell. I feel in many cases that the crypto discourse has substituted decentralization for meaningful politics, and without that politics it’s very difficult to actually confront capitalism and what it’s doing to people on the planet. Capitalism can happily function in both centralized and decentralized forms, and indeed it stages competition and rivalry between centralized and decentralized forms as part of its ongoing reproduction. Capitalism’s historic dynamism, and its ability to adapt and change and so sustain itself, depends on always creating the conditions within which a new competitive class emerges to displace the old ruling class, or to carve out a space for itself. Unless those designing new digital platforms directly aligned themselves with actually existing common people struggling for dignity, rights, and change, my fear is that they will be confined to offering an aspiring ruling class new tools with which to battle for a position with their predecessors. My sense is that even within the limited realm of art, the emergence of these technologies is going to do precious little to fundamentally challenge the pyramid-like structure in which a handful of celebrity artists receive monumental fortunes while the vast majority suffer in obscurity and poverty. Perhaps it will be a slightly less steep pyramid, but it will remain a pyramid. Meanwhile, there is the broader issue of the huge number of people on the planet who would love to be able to exercise and share their creativity, but who are functionally prohibited from doing so because of endemic poverty, overwork, or simply being born in the wrong place at the wrong time. If we are truly interested in liberating human creativity and creating a field of culture open to a diversity of voices, within which the best and the brightest might emerge to inspire us all, I’m not sure these technologies do much for us, or at least do much that other technologies don’t already do.

RC: The market for NFTs is the inevitable extension of a digital realm of an art world desperately seeking new markets, new liquidity, new forms of speculation. Financially speaking, Beeple’s Everydays: The First 5000 Days (2021) was a pretty good reenactment of Hirst’s For the Love of God (2007): a work bought by a consortium of art collectors/speculators of which he was a member. And now Hirst is repaying the complement with The Currency (2021) — “5 years in the making ” — on the Palm platform. The talk of decentralization has a hollow ring while it further centralizes art world and crypto world power.

DT: In Flash Art’s recent panel, Geert Lovink discussed the alchemic dimension of these technologies and how they’re attracting creators whose artistic livelihoods might otherwise be at stake. In many places in the world, including Australia, artists are exploring NFTs as a way to monetize their work in an era of drastically diminished government funding for the arts. So unlike the typical crypto-libertarian impetus to escape state control, NFT markets can seem like a desirable option for artists responding to the conditions of the neoliberal state that increasingly relegate art to an activity funded by the private sector. Silvio Lorusso has discussed how the forced entrepreneurialism of creative workers in neoliberal capitalist labor markets is impacting production, so we might consider how the entrepreneurialism of artists participating in NFT markets continues some of these trajectories.

MG: If the technology establishes itself in the future, NFTs will lead to a further commodification of everyday life. Not only will cyberspace be tokenized to reintroduce scarcity into the digital realm, but we will also witness the tokenization of the analog world, with augmented reality settings overcoming the divide between the two.

AL: Beyond questions of ownership and digital scarcity, NFTs hold out the possibility of major changes in the way art is distributed and artists remunerated, but will they render the models of the art world obsolete? Until now, the main focus has been on the way NFTs democratize the commercialization of each and every thing one can label art. But I do not consider art to be the most promising use case for NFTs. I think of the tokenization of physical assets and the way that this can open entirely new areas in circular and sharing economies as much more groundbreaking!

AE: For many, blockchain technology is a tool to resist the centralized control of systems across tech and finance sectors. But might it also serve to address contemporary art’s own centralized controls? Given the dominance of certain actors within the sphere of crypto art, is the market for NFTs really the best model of decentralization?

DT: Before we leap to technology to solve the problem of centralization, it’s important to consider whether in fact there is already a history of decentralized forms of working and alternative economies that have supported artistic communities and livelihoods, from which we can learn. Across the world, we find different models of artist cooperatives and barter economies, as well as alternative spaces for the presentation and production of creative work. This reflects Howard Becker’s thinking from the 1980s around the multiplicity of dynamic art worlds that exist across the planet, in contrast to a single centralized global art world. DisCO is a great project that emerges from the Guerilla Media Collective’s long engagement with cooperative ways of working in our contemporary, digitally enabled context.

RC: The most hopeful work we see builds technologies around the needs of particular communities and cultures rather than the other way around. It takes account of more than just the financial needs of its members. Black Swan DAO is a good example of artist-led peer-to-peer funding and community organizing. Hic et Nunc was another beacon in early 2021, described as “less decentralized market, more artist commune.” In both of these cases, communities of artists and techies, coordinating via decentralized platforms like Discord, experiment with different forms of creation, collaboration, and value exchange enabled by blockchains and NFTs. The recent overnight closure of Hic et Nunc in fact exemplifies the value of Web3’s decentralized model as users transitioned to other marketplaces such as Ojbkt.com while remaining in control of their content.

AL: Among their many mind-blowing applications, blockchain-based organizations such as DAOs have the potential to re-empower artists and art-world workers. I think it’s important to keep in mind that attaching an NFT to something does not necessarily mean adding a layer of decentralization to it. Most NFT data is stored not on a blockchain but on servers owned by major companies such as Amazon. Whereas, artists gathering and pooling resources to better allocate funds collectively, isn’t that a better model of decentralization? I am really looking forward to HACKUMENTA in Athens this September — the first decentralized and peer-to-peer art fair.

MG: Only the proof of ownership is stored on the blockchain, while a handful of marketplaces control the whole NFT market. With NFTs we’ve gotten rid of curators and gallerists and replaced them with algorithms that decide which artwork to include on the front page of an NFT marketplace. I am not sure whether this is progress.

AE: NFTs seem to put more of the creativity in the hands of the owner or collector than ever before. What might be the long-term implications of this?

MH: I suppose my question would be: creativity of what kind? And what’s the good of this creativity? If by creativity we mean market power, then I’m not sure creativity is the best term. If by creativity we mean the ability to see one’s imagination manifested in the world, it strikes me that owners and collectors remain fairly confined. To my mind, creativity is both a power to manifest the imagination on an individual level, but it also somehow represents the power to transform the world together. In that sense, I’m not sure I see substantial creativity being placed in the hands of anyone in a transactional field based on notions of private property and artificial scarcity. We are all living in an illusion of private property — that is an illusion that was created during the birth of capitalism and explicitly forged in colonialism and imperialism, enforced with tremendous violence. Because private property is fundamentally an abstraction, it is inherently and inevitably internally inconsistent. That inconsistency is especially evident when it comes to material assets, things like intellectual property or, as we are discovering, digital assets that are otherwise completely reproducible. Because of these internal inconsistencies the field of private property is always going to offer fascinating opportunities to reveal or play in the contradictions. This isn’t in any way new. The Dadaists and conceptual artists of the twentieth century, for instance, made many pieces that teased or sought to undermine the way in which their works could be commodified: Duchamp’s Tzanck Cheque (1919), for instance, or Sol LeWitt’s play with contracts. Play within and even to a certain extent against the regime of private property is permitted; what is not permitted is to seek to abolish private property as such. I think art should move us towards the horizon of this abolition, in the name of liberating true creativity.

MG: NFTs have the advantage that they can be easily stored and you don’t have to worry as much about decay of digital files. But if you are unfortunate enough to lose your private key, you will also lose access to your NFTs. The immutability of blockchains can be cruel in enforcing the puritan ideal of radical self-reliance. If you are one such sucker, it is your fault alone. The other downside of NFTs, which also stands in the way of their success, is that it is harder to present them in the physical space, which contradicts this whole rationale of buying art to brag in front of your friends. In the next hype cycle, we will certainly see a market for hardware devices for displaying NFTs.

AL: I have to say that I am really surprised not to see much conversation within the art world about programmable art and the way those layers or art legos can be activated by the owner and, thus, are leaving some influence over the artwork to its collector. Platforms like Mutagen are discretely transforming the meaning of authorship within the arts by allowing for a co-creation of sorts, which, if programmed by the artists, nevertheless opens authorship to the artwork’s very investors.

RC: NFTs can offer more creative control to a whole range of art-world stakeholders. Async offered an early example of programmable artworks, launching with First Supper, that enables artists and collectors to collaborate in the display of digital artworks over time. But what most excites me is the potential for different art-world players to see themselves connected in new ways. For instance, Helen Knowles’s Trickle Down, A New Vertical Sovereignty (2020) invites viewers to insert a coin to activate a four-channel video installation. The videos depict scenes of different auction settings: from fur-coated art auction attendees, to market traders hawking goods from the back of a van. The coin is converted to crypto before being distributed to all those involved in the creation of the work, including the video subjects, gallery workers, workshop participants, etc. in a performance of capital distribution that rewards even the subject of the artwork.

AE: Is blockchain the future or is there maybe another or better data structure on the horizon that is more cost-efficient, secure, and scalable?

MG: The world of distributed ledger technology (DLT) is a tribalist space, in which most projects try to trash everything around them to increase their market share. It is hard, even for someone with a decent understanding of DLTs, to tell which expert is right. In the end, all the speculation bubbles are built on the ignorance of investors. But there are interesting alternative data structures out there, like distributed hash tables (DHT) as proposed by Holochain or directed acyclic graphs used by IOTA, which break with the idea of having one global state created by chaining blocks, which is assembled by a consensus mechanism through mining or staking. A lot of criticism is hurled at these heterodox approaches. Unfortunately, my technical understanding does not suffice to assess whether it is justified or not.

MH: I have no doubt that new technologies are on the horizon. But I’m not sure that technology will solve the underlying sociological and human problem. So long as these technologies emerge from and seek to renovate the market, they participate in a capitalist logic that sees the market as a solution to all our problems, rather than the source of our problems or the framework within which our problems express themselves and become unsolvable. What would it mean to start developing these technologies from a place of real, committed solidarity with struggles against capitalist exploitation, neocolonialism, racist inequality, gender-based violence, or a whole host of other problems that stem from the way that we’ve organized our society? Perhaps a more direct response to your question, what does better mean here? Greater efficiency, security, and scalability within the current economic order is inevitable, but to what end? And at whose cost?

Ruth Catlow is an artist, co-founder, and artistic director of Furtherfield. A recovering web-utopian, Catlow investigates the emancipatory potential of networked digital art. She is the founder of DECAL Decentralized Arts Lab, supporting R&D by leading artists, using blockchain and web 3.0 technologies for fairer, more dynamic and connected cultural ecologies and economies.

Max Grünberg is co-founder of the theory space Diffrakt in Berlin, where he is curating the event series “Machine Dreams.” His research specializes in the synthesis of algorithmic planning and distributed ledger technologies.

Max Haiven is a writer and teacher and Canada Research Chair in Culture, Media and Social Justice. His most recent books are Art after Money, Money after Art: Creative Strategies Against Financialization (2018) and Revenge Capitalism: The Ghosts of Empire, the Demons of Capital, and the Settling of Unpayable Debts (2020). He is editor of VAGABONDS, a series of short, radical books from Pluto Press. He teaches at Lakehead University, where he co-directs the ReImagining Value Action Lab (RiVAL).

Aude Launay is an independent researcher, author, and curator, trained as a philosopher. Her research focuses on decentralized decision-making and democratic processes prototyped on blockchains, as well as art that interferes with the power mechanisms underpinning governance structures.

Denise Thwaites is a curator, writer, and researcher. Her practice interlaces digital and community-based collaborations to explore different economies of care and value. She is a member of the Centre for Creative and Cultural Research, and assistant professor in Digital Arts and Humanities at the University of Canberra.

Alex Estorick is Flash Art’s contributing editor for art and technology.

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Published on February 09, 2022 12:24

I Dream of DeFi: A Conversation

Original –> https://flash—art.com/2021/01/defi-decentralization-crypto-art/

I Dream of DeFi. A Conversation with Ruth Catlow, Max Grünberg, Max Haiven, Aude Launay, and Denise Thwaites, curated by Alex Estorick

Image: “ReVisioning the Virtual Wall: Border Soldier, Luckauer Strasse,” by T+T (Tamiko Thiel), 2009. Digital Giclee Print 140 x 70 cm on Hahnemuehle Baryta Paper, mounted on Alu-Dibond.

With the value of NFTs apparently folded into the volatile fortunes of cryptocurrency, art and money’s deadly dance appears to have accelerated. Given the prevalence of new hegemonic actors and hierarchies in the cryptosphere, DeFi’s potential to democratize finance looks fated, if not fundamentally compromised. In recent years, a new community of scholars and commentators has surveyed the prospects for decentralization. Here they reflect on crypto art’s place in capitalism’s changing state.

Alex Estorick: On balance, does the blockchain do more to challenge or to renew capitalism? Are there substantial and not simply hypothetical ways it challenges capitalist power?

Ruth Catlow: No technology can challenge or renew capitalism in and of itself. Blockchains as creators of bank-and-state-free money are certainly a challenge to the role of nation states in global capitalism. But the question is whether this supports or impedes solidarity and collective action to distribute power and resources. We can worry about the libertarian flavor of Bitcoin’s digital money that prioritizes individual rights and freedoms (over state taxes and surveillance) and boils the oceans with its energy-hungry protocol. And at the same time, E. Stefen Deleveaux of the Caribbean Blockchain Alliance talks about the power of blockchains “to enable the fight against imperialism” by democratizing access to basic financial services like remittances, currently unavailable to many under the global financial regime. Meanwhile the cultures surrounding programmable blockchains like Ethereum — that are the basis for tokenization and NFTs — make it newly possible to attach collective decision-making tools to cryptocurrencies and the behavior and distribution of digital assets in entirely new ways. This lends some validity to the claims of the democratizing potential of blockchains.

Blockchains need an injection of feminist economics. Without a focus on care and the participation of more diverse human and more-than-human interests, the blockchain will accelerate and amplify the most damaging aspects of capitalism by incentivizing automated extraction of value from living systems with no regard for the health of individuals, society, or the environment. This is why the vision and realization of cooperatively owned and run cultural projects like Resonate and DisCo, and the artist-led UBI project Circles, are so important.

Aude Launay: As with every technology, blockchain does what one uses it for. So, on the side of the corporate and the state applications, we may not be on the edge of a revolution, but there are already countless blockchain-based projects that are deeply challenging the capitalist system — DeFi protocols and DAOs (decentralized autonomous organizations) — and putting people in charge of their own interests.

Max Haiven: Though I have heard and read many theoretical arguments, I have yet to be convinced that blockchain technologies can actually challenge capitalist power as it stands today. To me, to truly challenge capitalism would mean more than simply creating the circumstances where people can compete with one another in the market more fairly. It would mean devising fundamentally new ways of organizing the cooperation between humans, and between humans and the more-than-human world (e.g. “nature”). I think there’s some very interesting potential in emergent technology for this revolution in human cooperation, but I think, in part because of its origins in Bitcoin, in part because of the sheer quantity of fast money flying around these days, the vast majority of blockchain schemes tend to be stained by the belief that, if only we could perfect money, exchange, and competition, we would be able to transform society. But the problem of capitalism is not and has never been about the exchange of wealth; it lies in the way in which a society produces value. Value production isn’t just a matter of marginal utility, which is to say getting people what they want. It’s a question of how cooperation transforms the material world. I’m certainly curious to see if these technologies have the potential to allow us to organize and coordinate our cooperation for the production of value differently.

Max Grünberg: If we think of capitalism as a mode of production characterized by profit-oriented commodity exchange and private production, protected by bourgeois laws and property rights, it is questionable whether blockchain is the technology to overcome this logic, as money is woven into its core. Smart contracts are nothing but a mechanism to control automatically the flow of money on a blockchain. Vitalik Buterin (co-founder of Ethereum) once described how blockchains automate away the center. But sometimes these centers have a function in protecting workers, and one should ask oneself who benefits from this decentralized and automated future. Is it really the workers or the entrepreneurs building the infrastructure?

Denise Thwaites: I think we are at a point in public discourse where we need to question what we mean by “the blockchain.” There are different kinds of public and private blockchain, as well as other distributed-ledger systems that ride the blockchain wave of interest. These have the potential to challenge or further entrench capitalist ways of organizing labor and producing value. For every grassroots communitarian approach to using blockchain, we can find major banks, auction houses, and tech companies staking their territory in this technological field.

AE: Are there aesthetic or political criteria by which we might evaluate crypto art, or can we only judge it on a market basis?

AL: I do not see why crypto art should be evaluated in a different way than any other form of visual art. And I am not talking about medium specificity here, since crypto art can be any kind of art attached to a token which is, in a nutshell, nothing more than proof of ownership of the token itself. What strikes me is more the use of the term “art” than the use of the term “crypto” here. The use of the appellation “art” for productions as diverse as internet memes and animated GIFs with a humorous or aesthetic aim, and the presence of these objects — possibly produced by professional artists but equally possibly by “everyone” — on NFT platforms, operates a blurring of the traditional castes of the art world that I find fascinating.

MH: I think in the latest gold rush for NFTs there’s a fairly transparent relationship between price and artistic value: those works that tend to be seen and circulate are those that have jaw-dropping prices attached to them. I understand that there are very interesting and thoughtful artists working in the space, and from what I’ve seen their work tends to be more conceptual in nature, asking its audience to question the very logics, grammars, and technologies on which they are based. I think both of these tendencies are the result of this medium — if we can call it that — being quite new. Like most contemporary art, newness is perhaps the most saleable quality. I’m curious: if indeed the NFT and crypto art have any durability, what will art critics in twenty or thirty years time make of it and what kinds of analysis and judgment will they apply to separate truly remarkable work from the endless derivative dross? Frankly, most of it looks fairly derivative to me, often derivative of fan cultures that reflect the interests of collectors, who tend or appear to be young men with little to no interest in art history.

DT: Recently, New Zealand artist Jess Johnson (in conversation with Jane O’Sullivan) compared the dynamics of certain NFT markets to her experience at zine fairs, where creative communities engage in playful experimentation with new ways of making and distributing their work. While dominant NFT market aesthetics seem to favor graphic Beeple-style designs imbued with memes and pop culture references, it will be interesting to see (a) if this form of cultural production continues in the years to come, and (b) whether a distinctive aesthetic or political criteria emerges to identify “seminal” NFTs, in the way we now retrospectively analyze zines. Will these criteria be “purely aesthetic,” or influenced by the historic price they achieved? As with any form of art, we may find it hard to disentangle these social, economic, and cultural hierarchies from our aesthetic judgments of NFTs.

RC: The market seems to know what it likes: firsts, established brands, and art establishment endorsement. But it has also been heartening to see a number of early pioneers of net art like Auriea Harvey, Rhea Myers, and Tamiko Thiel find a market for conceptually rigorous, critical, and net-native works. Terra0, the self-owned forest, is an early example of a blockchain-based artwork about the politics and possibly the governance of living systems on the blockchain. Furtherfield’s CultureStake goes one step further in decentralizing power and resources in the art world by inviting the public to decide what’s important and then recording their answers on untamperable blockchains. This web-based voting system underpins the Peoples Park Plinth program in Finsbury Park, allowing people to vote on the types of cultural activity they would like to see in their locality using quadratic voting (QV) on the blockchain to put decentralized tech to radical, new, emancipatory use in the cultural sector. We can also imagine this system being put to use by a city council needing to find out which new artwork should occupy a recently vacated public plinth.

MG: Although, like with the rest of the crypto community, it might be an ethnographic goldmine regarding capital’s power to constantly create the other from within, concerning aesthetics I despise crypto art for the most part as it is a parochial form of art, which for the most part is only created to flatter the Lamborghini-driving cohort of early crypto accumulators. All the recurring motifs of Elon, doges, and symbols of various crypto currencies simply reveal how limited this imaginary really is.

AE: What can the market for NFTs and other decentralized digital assets tell us about capitalism, where it’s going, and how to contest it?

MH: Decentralization is not, in and of itself, a means towards economic or social justice. A territory ruled by rival warlords, rather than a central government, is a decentralized hell. I feel in many cases that the crypto discourse has substituted decentralization for meaningful politics, and without that politics it’s very difficult to actually confront capitalism and what it’s doing to people on the planet. Capitalism can happily function in both centralized and decentralized forms, and indeed it stages competition and rivalry between centralized and decentralized forms as part of its ongoing reproduction. Capitalism’s historic dynamism, and its ability to adapt and change and so sustain itself, depends on always creating the conditions within which a new competitive class emerges to displace the old ruling class, or to carve out a space for itself. Unless those designing new digital platforms directly aligned themselves with actually existing common people struggling for dignity, rights, and change, my fear is that they will be confined to offering an aspiring ruling class new tools with which to battle for a position with their predecessors. My sense is that even within the limited realm of art, the emergence of these technologies is going to do precious little to fundamentally challenge the pyramid-like structure in which a handful of celebrity artists receive monumental fortunes while the vast majority suffer in obscurity and poverty. Perhaps it will be a slightly less steep pyramid, but it will remain a pyramid. Meanwhile, there is the broader issue of the huge number of people on the planet who would love to be able to exercise and share their creativity, but who are functionally prohibited from doing so because of endemic poverty, overwork, or simply being born in the wrong place at the wrong time. If we are truly interested in liberating human creativity and creating a field of culture open to a diversity of voices, within which the best and the brightest might emerge to inspire us all, I’m not sure these technologies do much for us, or at least do much that other technologies don’t already do.

RC: The market for NFTs is the inevitable extension of a digital realm of an art world desperately seeking new markets, new liquidity, new forms of speculation. Financially speaking, Beeple’s Everydays: The First 5000 Days (2021) was a pretty good reenactment of Hirst’s For the Love of God (2007): a work bought by a consortium of art collectors/speculators of which he was a member. And now Hirst is repaying the complement with The Currency (2021) — “5 years in the making ” — on the Palm platform. The talk of decentralization has a hollow ring while it further centralizes art world and crypto world power.

DT: In Flash Art’s recent panel, Geert Lovink discussed the alchemic dimension of these technologies and how they’re attracting creators whose artistic livelihoods might otherwise be at stake. In many places in the world, including Australia, artists are exploring NFTs as a way to monetize their work in an era of drastically diminished government funding for the arts. So unlike the typical crypto-libertarian impetus to escape state control, NFT markets can seem like a desirable option for artists responding to the conditions of the neoliberal state that increasingly relegate art to an activity funded by the private sector. Silvio Lorusso has discussed how the forced entrepreneurialism of creative workers in neoliberal capitalist labor markets is impacting production, so we might consider how the entrepreneurialism of artists participating in NFT markets continues some of these trajectories.

MG: If the technology establishes itself in the future, NFTs will lead to a further commodification of everyday life. Not only will cyberspace be tokenized to reintroduce scarcity into the digital realm, but we will also witness the tokenization of the analog world, with augmented reality settings overcoming the divide between the two.

AL: Beyond questions of ownership and digital scarcity, NFTs hold out the possibility of major changes in the way art is distributed and artists remunerated, but will they render the models of the art world obsolete? Until now, the main focus has been on the way NFTs democratize the commercialization of each and every thing one can label art. But I do not consider art to be the most promising use case for NFTs. I think of the tokenization of physical assets and the way that this can open entirely new areas in circular and sharing economies as much more groundbreaking!

AE: For many, blockchain technology is a tool to resist the centralized control of systems across tech and finance sectors. But might it also serve to address contemporary art’s own centralized controls? Given the dominance of certain actors within the sphere of crypto art, is the market for NFTs really the best model of decentralization?

DT: Before we leap to technology to solve the problem of centralization, it’s important to consider whether in fact there is already a history of decentralized forms of working and alternative economies that have supported artistic communities and livelihoods, from which we can learn. Across the world, we find different models of artist cooperatives and barter economies, as well as alternative spaces for the presentation and production of creative work. This reflects Howard Becker’s thinking from the 1980s around the multiplicity of dynamic art worlds that exist across the planet, in contrast to a single centralized global art world. DisCO is a great project that emerges from the Guerilla Media Collective’s long engagement with cooperative ways of working in our contemporary, digitally enabled context.

RC: The most hopeful work we see builds technologies around the needs of particular communities and cultures rather than the other way around. It takes account of more than just the financial needs of its members. Black Swan DAO is a good example of artist-led peer-to-peer funding and community organizing. Hic et Nunc was another beacon in early 2021, described as “less decentralized market, more artist commune.” In both of these cases, communities of artists and techies, coordinating via decentralized platforms like Discord, experiment with different forms of creation, collaboration, and value exchange enabled by blockchains and NFTs. The recent overnight closure of Hic et Nunc in fact exemplifies the value of Web3’s decentralized model as users transitioned to other marketplaces such as Ojbkt.com while remaining in control of their content.

AL: Among their many mind-blowing applications, blockchain-based organizations such as DAOs have the potential to re-empower artists and art-world workers. I think it’s important to keep in mind that attaching an NFT to something does not necessarily mean adding a layer of decentralization to it. Most NFT data is stored not on a blockchain but on servers owned by major companies such as Amazon. Whereas, artists gathering and pooling resources to better allocate funds collectively, isn’t that a better model of decentralization? I am really looking forward to HACKUMENTA in Athens this September — the first decentralized and peer-to-peer art fair.

MG: Only the proof of ownership is stored on the blockchain, while a handful of marketplaces control the whole NFT market. With NFTs we’ve gotten rid of curators and gallerists and replaced them with algorithms that decide which artwork to include on the front page of an NFT marketplace. I am not sure whether this is progress.

AE: NFTs seem to put more of the creativity in the hands of the owner or collector than ever before. What might be the long-term implications of this?

MH: I suppose my question would be: creativity of what kind? And what’s the good of this creativity? If by creativity we mean market power, then I’m not sure creativity is the best term. If by creativity we mean the ability to see one’s imagination manifested in the world, it strikes me that owners and collectors remain fairly confined. To my mind, creativity is both a power to manifest the imagination on an individual level, but it also somehow represents the power to transform the world together. In that sense, I’m not sure I see substantial creativity being placed in the hands of anyone in a transactional field based on notions of private property and artificial scarcity. We are all living in an illusion of private property — that is an illusion that was created during the birth of capitalism and explicitly forged in colonialism and imperialism, enforced with tremendous violence. Because private property is fundamentally an abstraction, it is inherently and inevitably internally inconsistent. That inconsistency is especially evident when it comes to material assets, things like intellectual property or, as we are discovering, digital assets that are otherwise completely reproducible. Because of these internal inconsistencies the field of private property is always going to offer fascinating opportunities to reveal or play in the contradictions. This isn’t in any way new. The Dadaists and conceptual artists of the twentieth century, for instance, made many pieces that teased or sought to undermine the way in which their works could be commodified: Duchamp’s Tzanck Cheque (1919), for instance, or Sol LeWitt’s play with contracts. Play within and even to a certain extent against the regime of private property is permitted; what is not permitted is to seek to abolish private property as such. I think art should move us towards the horizon of this abolition, in the name of liberating true creativity.

MG: NFTs have the advantage that they can be easily stored and you don’t have to worry as much about decay of digital files. But if you are unfortunate enough to lose your private key, you will also lose access to your NFTs. The immutability of blockchains can be cruel in enforcing the puritan ideal of radical self-reliance. If you are one such sucker, it is your fault alone. The other downside of NFTs, which also stands in the way of their success, is that it is harder to present them in the physical space, which contradicts this whole rationale of buying art to brag in front of your friends. In the next hype cycle, we will certainly see a market for hardware devices for displaying NFTs.

AL: I have to say that I am really surprised not to see much conversation within the art world about programmable art and the way those layers or art legos can be activated by the owner and, thus, are leaving some influence over the artwork to its collector. Platforms like Mutagen are discretely transforming the meaning of authorship within the arts by allowing for a co-creation of sorts, which, if programmed by the artists, nevertheless opens authorship to the artwork’s very investors.

RC: NFTs can offer more creative control to a whole range of art-world stakeholders. Async offered an early example of programmable artworks, launching with First Supper, that enables artists and collectors to collaborate in the display of digital artworks over time. But what most excites me is the potential for different art-world players to see themselves connected in new ways. For instance, Helen Knowles’s Trickle Down, A New Vertical Sovereignty (2020) invites viewers to insert a coin to activate a four-channel video installation. The videos depict scenes of different auction settings: from fur-coated art auction attendees, to market traders hawking goods from the back of a van. The coin is converted to crypto before being distributed to all those involved in the creation of the work, including the video subjects, gallery workers, workshop participants, etc. in a performance of capital distribution that rewards even the subject of the artwork.

AE: Is blockchain the future or is there maybe another or better data structure on the horizon that is more cost-efficient, secure, and scalable?

MG: The world of distributed ledger technology (DLT) is a tribalist space, in which most projects try to trash everything around them to increase their market share. It is hard, even for someone with a decent understanding of DLTs, to tell which expert is right. In the end, all the speculation bubbles are built on the ignorance of investors. But there are interesting alternative data structures out there, like distributed hash tables (DHT) as proposed by Holochain or directed acyclic graphs used by IOTA, which break with the idea of having one global state created by chaining blocks, which is assembled by a consensus mechanism through mining or staking. A lot of criticism is hurled at these heterodox approaches. Unfortunately, my technical understanding does not suffice to assess whether it is justified or not.

MH: I have no doubt that new technologies are on the horizon. But I’m not sure that technology will solve the underlying sociological and human problem. So long as these technologies emerge from and seek to renovate the market, they participate in a capitalist logic that sees the market as a solution to all our problems, rather than the source of our problems or the framework within which our problems express themselves and become unsolvable. What would it mean to start developing these technologies from a place of real, committed solidarity with struggles against capitalist exploitation, neocolonialism, racist inequality, gender-based violence, or a whole host of other problems that stem from the way that we’ve organized our society? Perhaps a more direct response to your question, what does better mean here? Greater efficiency, security, and scalability within the current economic order is inevitable, but to what end? And at whose cost?

Ruth Catlow is an artist, co-founder, and artistic director of Furtherfield. A recovering web-utopian, Catlow investigates the emancipatory potential of networked digital art. She is the founder of DECAL Decentralized Arts Lab, supporting R&D by leading artists, using blockchain and web 3.0 technologies for fairer, more dynamic and connected cultural ecologies and economies.

Max Grünberg is co-founder of the theory space Diffrakt in Berlin, where he is curating the event series “Machine Dreams.” His research specializes in the synthesis of algorithmic planning and distributed ledger technologies.

Max Haiven is a writer and teacher and Canada Research Chair in Culture, Media and Social Justice. His most recent books are Art after Money, Money after Art: Creative Strategies Against Financialization (2018) and Revenge Capitalism: The Ghosts of Empire, the Demons of Capital, and the Settling of Unpayable Debts (2020). He is editor of VAGABONDS, a series of short, radical books from Pluto Press. He teaches at Lakehead University, where he co-directs the ReImagining Value Action Lab (RiVAL).

Aude Launay is an independent researcher, author, and curator, trained as a philosopher. Her research focuses on decentralized decision-making and democratic processes prototyped on blockchains, as well as art that interferes with the power mechanisms underpinning governance structures.

Denise Thwaites is a curator, writer, and researcher. Her practice interlaces digital and community-based collaborations to explore different economies of care and value. She is a member of the Centre for Creative and Cultural Research, and assistant professor in Digital Arts and Humanities at the University of Canberra.

Alex Estorick is Flash Art’s contributing editor for art and technology.

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Published on February 09, 2022 12:24

January 11, 2022

Debt and Financialization of Childhood

The following text is a not-yet copy-edited draft of Max Haiven. 2022 (in production). “Debt and Financialization of Childhood” in Oxford Bibliographies in Childhood Studies, edited by Heather Montgomery. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press.

Image is of Darren Cullen’s Pocket Money Loans project.

Introduction

Financialization denotes the growing power, wealth and influence of the financial sector of the capitalist economy, usually since the early 1980s. The financial sector is often identified by the acronym FIRE: Finance, Insurance and Real Estate. In recent years, scholars and activists have shown that financialization is not only a matter dramatically affecting business and government but society and culture at large. It even affects children, even though they are often conspicuously excluded from economic and financial life by law, custom and morality. Hedge funds and other major financial players are deeply invested in the privatization of education. Insurance companies routinely speculate on systemic and environmental risks to young people. And the movement of real estate, including urban displacement, has significant impacts on children’s wellbeing.The FIRE sector is, essentially, built on the manipulation of various forms of credit and debt. Today, the world has roughly $225-trillion US of outstanding debt, much of it owed by governments who must increasingly borrow from financial institutions to operate, giving the latter profound influence which tends to encourage if not necessitate neoliberal and market-friendly policy. The period of financialization has also seen a massive explosion of consumer debt, not only in the Global North, where education, housing, healthcare combine with stagnant incomes and rising prices, but also in the Global South, where microfinance lending has encouraged the world’s poorest to borrow. While not incurred by children directly, these debts have a major impact on children’s lives. Ona. More abstract level, financialization and debt both necessarily imply a relationship with the future, something often associated with children and childhood. Notions of intergenerational debts are a key feature of almost every culture. In finaniclaized societies, fears about government debts and deficits are often cast in terms of over burdening future generations, usually as a means to justify austerity in the present (including, ironically, cutting funding to health, education and social provisioning that benefit children). The rhetoric of education being a private “investment in the future” has in many places become a dead metaphor, reflecting the pervasiveness of financialization as a process of sociocultural transformation. For all that, the connections between financialization, debt and childhood have not yet been fully explored by scholars: no single book and only a handful of articles or book chapters exist. Given that the impacts of debt and financialization are almost exclusively negative, even fewer approaches have explored how children might be active or creative agents amidst these social forces.

General Overview

Mader, Mertens and van der Zwan’s 2020 edited Handbook offers a comprehensive interdisciplinary overview of financialization as a phenomenon must be viewed as at once economic, political, social and cultural. Most authors agree that financialization describes an accelerating not homogeneous worldwide process since the 1980s that occurs in tandem with the rise of neoliberalism and corporate-led globalization, and thanks in part to the rise of digitally interconnected global communications networks.

But several authors also identify financialization by the more insidious ways the FIRE sector’s codes, metaphors, measurements, priorities and ideologies have come to influence a vast diversity of public and private social institutions and have dramatically impacted society and culture. Martin’s 2002 landmark study focuses on the way a financialized mindset is expected of citizens of financialized states, including, notably, an increasing emphasis since the 1990s on educating young people to gain financial management skills and, more broadly, adopt an appropriate financial disposition, seeing the increasingly unforgiving world as a series of assets to be leveraged and risks to be managed. Walker, Squires and Goldsmith 2021 detail many of the ways that, in a “competitive” global economy, policymakers and educators have encouraged children to embrace financial ideas at a young age. This work builds on a foundation set by Schor’s 2005 investigations of the commercialization of childhood, though commercialization and financialization are distinct if entangled concepts. Under financialization, as Gill-Peterson 2015 argues, it has become commonplace to hear these same actors speak of children as “investments in the future” of the nation or the economy, and indeed parents are encouraged to see their children’s curricular and extracurricular cultivation as worthwhile investments in the name of improving their capacity as bearers of human capital. As Cooper has argued, neoliberalism’s ideological architects were fixated on the nuclear family as the elemental and proper unit of economic life and on questions of intergenerational wealth, human development and the power of financial obligation. For Morris and Featherstone 2010, this neoliberal fixation on family and children as a site of literal and metaphorical investment has produced economic contexts marked by uneven and unjust rewards and punishments, which frequently represents a crushing burden for adults and children alike. Meanwhile, a 2015 report by The Children’s Society outlines many of the specific harms to youngsters, as do Walker, Squires and Goldsmith 2021. We know less about the impact of debt and financialization on children’s ideas and approaches to the world. Haiven 2014 has drawn on Martin’s work to explore how children “learn to learn” about financialization through their play with the globally popular Pokémon brand, especially the associated collectable trading cards.

Cooper, Melinda. 2017. Family Values: Between Neoliberalism and the New Social Conservatism. New York: Zone.

An investigation of the way the family is concieved by the ideological architects of neoliberalism, including a discussion of the way their work enabled the unlikely alliance of, on the one hand, free-market capitalists and, on the other, conservative religious communities.

Gill-Peterson, Julian. 2015. “The Value of the Future: The Child as Human Capital and the Neoliberal Labor of Race.” WSQ: Women’s Studies Quarterly 43 (1): 181–96.

Drawing on theorist Lee Edelman’s rejection of the way the “figure of the child” has been manipulated to reproduce hegemonic social relations, Gill-Peterson notes the importance of the child to Gary Becker and other neoliberal thinkers as a potential bearer of future human capital. Speaking back to Edelman and Foucualt, the author demonstrates the role of anti-Black racism in this process in the United States.

Haiven, Max. 2014. Cultures of Financialization: Fictitious Capital in Popular Culture and Everyday Life. London and New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

Haiven argues that financialization not only affects economics and politics but also society and culture, and indeed that it relies upon the transformation of the social imagination which makes each social actor into an active financial subject. Chapter four focuses on the way financialization affects children’s play.

Mader, Philip, Daniel Mertens, and Natascha van der Zwan, eds. 2020. The Routledge International Handbook of Financialization. London and New York: Routledge.

A comprehensive and multifaceted interdisciplinary handbook featuring many of the leading scholars of critical finance studies sharing state-of-the-field essays.

Martin, Randy. 2002. The Financialization of Daily Life. Philadelphia: Temple University Press.

Martin’s first book has become a classic in critical studies of financialization, advancing the argument that financialization represents a paradigmatic shift in the relationship between the system of capitalism and social actors towards a logic of speculation. Chapter two focuses on financial education and the targeting of young people.

Morris, Kate, and Brid Featherstone. 2010. “Investing in Children, Regulating Parents, Thinking Family: A Decade of Tensions and Contradictions.” Social Policy and Society 9 (4): 557–66.

A critical analysis of how neoliberal social policy and discourse more generally frames “the family” as a site of certain forms of intervention aimed at “investing” for the benefit of children. The authors show that this mobilization of “the family” often erases complexities of the people and relationships to which the term refers and creates punitive pressures and expectations whereby the development of children is downloaded as a personal or familiar responsibility, rather than a social good.

Schor, Juliet B. 2005. Born to Buy. New York: Scribner.

Considered a classic of public-facing economic sociology, Schor details the ways that, over the past century, children have been systematically targeted as consumers through advertising and the integration of corporate interests into public education. While it is beyond the scope of her study, the techniques and processes Schor details help us understand how childhood is being financialized.

The Wolf at the Door: How Council Tax Debt Collection Is Harming Children.” 2015. London: The Children’s Society.

A report on the impacts of household debt on children, based on a survey and interviews with indebted adults and the children who lived with them in the United Kingdom, revealing the material and psychological toll. The report focuses in particular on tax debt owed to municipalities and features testimonies from adults and children.

Walker, Carl, Peter Squires, and Carlie Goldsmith. 2021. “Learning to Pay: The Financialisation of Childhood.” In Growing Up and Getting By: International Perspectives on Childhood and Youth in Hard Times, edited by John Horton, Helena Pimlott-Wilson, and Sarah Marie Hall, 193–209. Bristol: Policy Press.

The first and only overview of research into financialization and childhood with a focus on formal financial literacy programs targeting children and social impact bonds that have come to reshape public funding for youth programs and transform them into vehicles for speculative investment.

Debt, social reproduction and the family

While the subject of financialization and childhood has not yet been fully explored, it is of concern to a slowly growing range of scholars, most of them working in feminist traditions, who are studying the influence of finance and debt sphere of social reproduction: those typically unwaged activities, usually performed in the home and typically be women, that reproduce labour power in the capitalist economy. Care and cultivation of children is a quintessential part of this process. Montgomerie and Tepe-Belfrage 2016 demonstrate that household debts are a pivotal element of modern financialized economics, and also how profoundly damaging debt is to encumbered poor, working and middle class families. In the global North in the neoliberal/financialized period, significant productivity gains have not been matched by rising real (i.e. inflation adjusted) wages, leading households to borrow heavily, a pattern exacerbated by increases in user fees for public services (such as university tuition) and rising levels of consumerism. Debt has in many ways become compulsory. Such tensions are vividly illustrated and analyzed by Zaloom’s 2019 in her anthropological study of American family’s financing of increasingly costly university education. Gago and Cavallero 2021 explore financialization and financial crisis in Argentina and in Latin America more broadly, arguing that debt functions as a capitalist intervention in social reproduction with particular impacts and implications for women. Reasons include the extra burden placed on women as schools, childcare and community organizations are cut or privatized as well as the way the stressors of debt and precariousness infiltrate the domestic sphere, leading for instance to increased domestic violence and family breakdown. Dowling’s 2021 more comprehensive investigation of the “care crisis” explores similar topics with a focus on the United Kingdom. Throughout all of this literature, debt is often offered and sought as a means by which households can make an investment that will, ultimately, benefit their children, for instance in a business, housing or education. In this way, finacialization offers individualist solutions to the very problems it helps create by hailing social actors as “investors” in their and their households’ betterment. But as Milburn astutely notes, youngsters today in the Global North are emerging into a world where they are frozen out of access to financial assets (e.g. financial investments or housing) and where returns on investments in their own human capital (i.e. education) are failing to provide a pathway beyond precarious employment and economic uncertainty. He sees this as at the root of a leftward turn in youth political sentiment in the past decade.

Dowling, Emma. 2021. The Care Crisis: What Caused It and How Can We End It? London and New York: Verso.

A critical overview of the way neoliberal financialization has systematically undermined those aspects of the welfare state crafted to care for people and downloaded the work of caring onto individuals either formally (and usually precarious) employed to do so, or onto families (typically women). The book also discusses the financialization of care, including social impact bonds and other mechanisms.  

Gago, Verónica, and Lucí Cavallero. 2021. A Feminist Reading of Debt. Translated by Liz Mason-Deese. London and New York: Pluto.

Based on case studies in Latin America, notably Argentina, the authors demonstrate how modern forms of financial debt emerge from the convergence of capitalism and patriarchy and become vehicles for the renovation of capitalism and patriarchy in financialized times.

Milburn, Keir. 2021. “Generation Left after Corbynism: Assets, Age, and the Battle for the Future.” South Atlantic Quarterly 120 (4): 892–902.

A foresnic analysis of young people in the United Kingdom’s strong support for the left wing stance of the Labour Party under Jeremy Corbyn from 2015-2020 based on a political-economic analysis of the particualr financial pressures that impact youth. Denied access to appreciating assets (notably housing), and finding their “human capital” (university degrees) to be worth less than anticipated, many of a yuoung a generation expressed its frustrations through electoral politics until Corbyn was defeated in the 2019 general election.

Montgomerie, Johnna, and Daniela Tepe-Belfrage. 2017. “Caring for Debts: How the Household Economy Exposes the Limits of Financialisation.” Critical Sociology 43 (4–5): 653–68.

Typically, discussions of financialization concern the elite and usually highly masculinized realm of banking, but here the authors show how dependent the financialized economy is on household debt, and the profound expectations that are placed on households under financialization.

Zaloom, Caitlin. 2019. Indebted: How Families Make College Work at Any Cost. Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press.

An anthropological investigation of how American families negotiate the ever-increasing cost of university education, which is seen (with some merit) to be the best investment in securing children’s middle class futures or personal success. 

Financialization and education

With trillions of dollars spent annually around the world on public education, it should come as no surprise that it has drawn the attention of the financial sector. This is especially so in the United States and United Kingdom where neoliberal policies have undermined the public system’s capacities and protections. A wide range of scholars have explored how the FIRE sector and its advocates have sought to invest in, reorient and take control over public educational institutions at all levels, from primary to tertiary. Saltman 2018 provides a damning catalog of the way that, operating under the guise of “innovation,” corporations and financial firms have targeted the American public school systems, often in partnership with various levels of government eager to save costs as well as powerful (typically right wing) think tanks. He explores the role of social impact bonds, pay for success schemes, “philanthrocapitalist” support, student loans and the branding and financing of semi-privatized charter schools. Likewise, Eaton et al. 2016 explore many of the ways in which American universities and colleges have become “financialized,” including more corporate-style management, increasing reliance on investment endowment funds, increased student loan borrowing and increased integration into the private sector. The financialization of society and social institutions has been accompanied by an enthusiasm for “financial literacy” education (sometimes also reframed as financial fitness). Bestselling author and media personality Suze Orman in particular has stressed the importance of young people becoming financially literate. But as Lazarus 2020 notes, data about the results of financial literacy education on young people’s future financial outcomes are inconclusive, and such programs almost invariably ignore the wider economic and political contexts of wealth and poverty, contributing to a neoliberal sensibility which reduces such complexities to personal triumphs or failures. As Haiven 2017 argues, this ideological dimension is even more damning when it also erases historical and ongoing forms of systemic and structural oppression such as settler colonialism’s impacts on Indigenous people in Canada in his case study. Activist initiatives like the US-based Debt Collective (Strike Debt 2012) or Spain’s participatory debt auditing network (Montgomerie and Tepe-Belfrage 2019) have dedicated themselves to providing alternative educational resources aimed at revealing how debt operates as part of a system of financial oppression and exploitation.

Eaton, Charlie, Jacob Habinek, Adam Goldstein, Cyrus Dioun, Daniela García Santibáñez Godoy, and Robert Osley-Thomas. 2016. “The Financialization of US Higher Education.” Socio-Economic Review.

A multidimensional review of how universities in the United States have been financialized in terms of increasingly corporate-style management, increasing reliance on investment endowment funds, increased student loan borrowing and increased integration into the private sector.

Strike Debt. 2013. “The Debt Resisters’ Operations Manual.” Second edition. Brooklyn: Common Notions.

A guide to how the American consumer debt system works and how it can be challenged from an activist initiative that emerged from Occupy Wall Street. Strike Debt was succeeded by the Debt Collective, which uses similar and new methods to mobilize debtors to take collective action against creditors and calls for the cancellation of many forms of debt.

Haiven, Max. 2017. “The Uses of Financial Literacy: Financialization, the Radical Imagination, and the Unpayable Debts of Settler-Colonialism.” Cultural Politics 13 (3): 348–69.

This essay takes as its case study financial literacy materials that target Indigenous people in Canada. The author critiques them as reinforcing a settler colonial economic worldview which also erases the profound debts owed to Indigenous people by the Canadian government and society for the theft of land and for genocidal policies.

Lazarus, Jeanne. 2020. “Financial Literacy Education: A Questionable Answer to the Financialization of Everyday Life.” In The Routledge International Handbook of Financialization, edited by Philip Mader, Daniel Mertens, and Natascha van der Zwan. London and New York: Routledge.

An overview of critiques of financial literacy education in the context of the financialization of everyday life, focusing on how and why this form of education became a popular “solution” to problems of debt, poverty and precariousness whose origins go well beyond the actions of individuals.

Montgomerie, Johnna, and Daniela Tepe-Belfrage. 2019. “Spaces of Debt Resistance and the Contemporary Politics of Financialised Capitalism.” Geoforum 98: 309–17.

Explores a range of debt resistance movements, including in the UK and Europe. In particular, it focuses on movements where citizens mobilize to audit public debts (such as those owed by nations or municipalities) to discover their origins and develop a political discourse around their legitimacy.

Orman, Suze. 2007. The Money Book for the Young, Fabulous & Broke. New York: Riverhead.

Orman is one of the most famous financial advice commentators in the United States, known for her witty but uncompromising insistence on personal responsibility. This book is written for young people and both participates in and challenges stereotypes about spendthrift Millennials, but shies away from discussing the wider political economic  conditions in which that generation finds itself.

Saltman, Kenneth J. 2018. The Swindle of Innovative Educational Finance. Forerunners 26. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.

A short, incisive critique of the involvement of the FIRE sector in American public primary and secondary education, exploring social impact bonds, pay for success schemes, “philanthrocapitalist” support, student loans and the branding and financing of semi-privatized charter schools.

Art, finance and childhood

In part because of the methodological difficulty of studying financialization and children, in part because the topic of children and money is surrounded by some degree of opprobrium, scholars seem reluctant to explore the theme. Yet contemporary visual and performance artists, many of whom are contending with the financialization of their own field of activity, have been more eager. In La Berge’s 2019 exploration of what participatory can teach us about contemporary capitalism, she analyzes the work of several North American artists who “employ” children as workers for the duration of a public art project. Because children are supposed to be exempt from work and financial worry, this artistic technique provokes profound and unsettling questions in audiences who are themselves habituated to financialization’s mundane but relentless pressures. Similarly, Haiven’s 2018 investigation of art and money discusses the work of several artists who have engaged similar tensions. These include Mel Chin’s Fundred Project, which asked children to design new money as a form of protest about lead content in US schoolyards and UK artist Darren Cullen’s shocking and ironic Pocket Money Loans installation, which commandeered high street storefronts to advertise high-interest debt to children. The German theater artist Sybille Peters 2013 is well known for her work with children, especially through the Fundus children’s research theatre in a migrant and working-class neighbourhood of Hamburg. She has, for many years, focused on working with children to explore “adult problems,” notably related to money, debt and financialization. In the Kinderbank project Peters worked with young children to establish and run a bank that minted its own currency exclusively for use by children.

La Berge, Leigh Claire. 2019. Wages Against Artwork: Socially Engaged Art and the Decommodification of Labor. Durham NC and London: Duke University Press.

This book explores the critical artwork of artists seeking to understand and contend with financialization. Chapter four, “The Artwork of Children’s Labor: Socially Engaged Art and the Future of Work,” details the work of several contemporary artists who have (literally or figuratively) employed children as workers to explore these tensions.

Haiven, Max. 2018. Art After Money, Money After Art: Creative Strategies Against Financialization. London and New York: Pluto.

This book investigates how contemporary artists are responding to financialization by integrating money, financial instruments and related themes into their work. Chapter three, “0 Participation: Benign Pessimism, Tactical Parasitics and the Encrypted Common”, covers Darren Cullen’s Pocket Money Loans and Mel Chin’s Fundred Project, both of which involved children as financial actors to make a critical comment on financialization.

Peters, Sibylle, and Fundus Theatre. 2013. “Let’s Make Money! Kollektive Geldforschung Mit Der Kinderbank Hamburg.” In Das Forschen Aller: Artistic Research Als Wissensproduktion Zwischen Kunst, Wissenschaft Und Gesellschaft, edited by Sibylle Peters. Bielefeld: transcript Verlag.

An account of and theoretical reflection by Hamburg-based theatre artist and theorist Sibylle Peters whose work has for many years focused on working with children on “adult problems” and on money, debt and financialization. The two come together in the Kinderbank project where Peters worked with young children to establish and run a bank that minted its own currency exclusively for use by children.

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Published on January 11, 2022 11:54