Helen H. Moore's Blog, page 842

March 8, 2016

Hillary’s cronyism is showing: A closer look at her economic proposals reveals a neoliberal agenda

AlterNet Billed as a major populist economic address, Hillary Clinton recently put forth her jobs program in Michigan. Wall Street is smiling. Her program fits perfectly within the neoliberal framework as she focuses on how to use public funds and policies to promote private sector gain. There are tax incentives to urge large and small corporations to create more jobs in the U.S. There are tax breaks to encourage corporations to provide more training and profit sharing plans. And there are tax breaks to promote long term investment instead of short-term gains.  To balance this equation, she also calls for exit taxes if companies take tax breaks and then move out of the country. Her mantra is clear: if you do right to the American people, we'll do right by you. Along the way, she waxes euphoric about the buoyancy of the private sector:  "New businesses are opening. Families are moving in. The streetlights are on again. The buses and running again. There is a palpable feeling of pride and community and we have to spread economic revitalization to all of Detroit's neighborhoods." (See here for full speech.) Not a word is mentioned about public goods or public sector jobs. Clearly, the only real job is a private sector job. Hillary Sends a Signal to Wall Street At the same time, she uses a dog whistle to let Wall Street know that she won't be coming down hard on them: “I’m not interested in condemning whole categories of businesses or the entire private sector” Furthermore, she dances around the perils of free-trade deals by putting the entire blame on China, and therefore not on the Clinton and Obama administrations who were/are gung-ho free traders.. Her silence about NAFTA, however, is deafening. And that's very good news to corporate and financial elites because NAFTA is the trade deal that has facilitated the financial strip-mining of the American worker. It has placed U.S. workers into direct daily competition with much less expensive labor south of the boarder. In fact, Hillary argues all such debates are now ancient history. It's unproductive, she claims, to be "re-fighting battles from 20 years ago...." But those battles are not over for Michigan workers who feel the incessant pressure from NAFTA on job security and the downward pressure on incomes and benefits.  Hillary can't rebuild the middle-class, even on her own free-market terms, without undoing large parts of NAFTA. Fearing to take on Financial Strip-mining Throughout her glowing tribute to the private sector, she also duly notes that corporations and financiers care too much about short-term stock prices instead of the long-term health of the company.  She is correct to say that they are spending 80 to 90 percent of all corporate revenues on stock buybacks and dividends: “That’s money they’re not using to train their workers or give them a raise,” And then there are the usual tropes about the "casino culture on Wall Street" and the ever faithful applause line: "We need to make sure Wall Street never wrecks Main Street again." Amen to all that.   But the whip she hope to crack is more like a wet noodle. She wants to reward corporations and investors with tax incentives to encourage long-term investment, worker training and profit sharing with employees. But, she remains stone cold silent on two real power moves that could actually change elite Wall Street and corporate behavior.  She does not talk about outlawing stock buybacks. And she does not mention the financial speculation tax. It is relatively easy for a president to stop stock buybacks. All it takes is a rule change at the SEC.  Until 1982, it was considered stock manipulation for a company to boost its price by buying back its own shares en mass. Reagan's SEC appointee then legalized it. But making stock buybacks illegal again would be fiercely opposed by the very Wall Street executives and CEOs who are filling her campaign coffers.  In fact, the system of runaway inequality is built upon those buybacks  Today, the goal of virtually every large corporation is to use all of its cash-flow to buy back its own shares to enrich its CEOs and largest Wall Street investors. (Please see "It's Shameless Financial Strip-mining" and Profits Without Prosperity) The corruption of Stock Buybacks at GM While noting that the "auto industry just had its best year ever," Hillary ignores the outrageous case of financial strip-mining at GM.  She couldn't mention it because it would also show the revolving door between the Obama administration and Wall Street. Harry Wilson, the Obama administrator who helped to negotiate the GM bailout, then left for a hedge fund job. The 43 year-old Wilson and his investors proceeded buy up 34 million GM shares. Why not? By then he was a GM expert, trained at taxpayer expense. He then demanded that GM  use its cash reserves to buy back its own shares to make he and his investors tens of millions of dollars....for doing nothing at all. Think about the perversity of this ask. The American people bailed out GM to save hundreds of thousands of jobs throughout the Midwest.  Many of us hoped that once GM returned to financial health, it would use its reserves to build the best environmentally sound cars in the world, thereby helping retain U.S. jobs and help our planet survive. Instead, Wilson pressures GM to use its precious cash reserves to buyback its own shares in order to put money into his deep pockets and the pockets of his investors.  Increase GM wages? Increase training? Increase R&D. No way. His wish was GM's command. On January 13, GM announced a $9 billion stock buyback plan. But Hillary couldn't talk about any of this. Because if she did, she would be forced to admit that her fairytale version of capitalism will never work as long as Wall Street dominates the economy. Carefully Ignoring Public Sector Jobs Team Hillary's populist sounding plan is in harmony with the most pernicious neo-liberal principle -- that the private sector, by definition, is more valuable than the public sector -- that all must be done to "encourage" private sector jobs while limiting public sector jobs. Hillary makes no mention at all at the decades-old attack on public sector jobs and benefits. Not a word about the privatization that is wrecking Michigan's public sector. Not a word about the need for increases in public sector jobs to bring safe water to the people of Flint. Instead she just blames the Republicans. When she discusses how to revitalize communities of color left behind, her only way of doing so is through private sector investment. But the public sector is the best path towards the middle class incomes for low-income Americans especially African-Americans. (See "Public Sector Jobs Vanish Hitting Blacks Hard"). She can't bring decent jobs and incomes to low-income communities without an expansion of the public sector. But why the knock on public sector jobs? Because Wall Street and the super-rich would have to pay for those jobs. To have a robust public sector that would get the lead out of inner-city pipes, fix up dilapidated schools, increase the number of teachers, and provide free higher education for all requires the expansion of the public sector.  To maintain a decent society requires an increase in public goods and the hiring of more pubic workers. But doing so, leads us directly to a financial speculation tax on Wall Street as well as the end of off-shore tax havens for the super-rich -- neither of which are mentioned in her economic plan. Instead Team Hillary wants to sound tough on corporate bad actors, while providing tax breaks to most of the private sector. She wants to reign in Wall Street's risky behavior,  without damaging it's financial strip-mining operation. And she wants to let market miraculously create better paying jobs for people of color, while remaining silent on the public sector and 20-year old trade deals. Being Hillary must be exhausting. AlterNet Billed as a major populist economic address, Hillary Clinton recently put forth her jobs program in Michigan. Wall Street is smiling. Her program fits perfectly within the neoliberal framework as she focuses on how to use public funds and policies to promote private sector gain. There are tax incentives to urge large and small corporations to create more jobs in the U.S. There are tax breaks to encourage corporations to provide more training and profit sharing plans. And there are tax breaks to promote long term investment instead of short-term gains.  To balance this equation, she also calls for exit taxes if companies take tax breaks and then move out of the country. Her mantra is clear: if you do right to the American people, we'll do right by you. Along the way, she waxes euphoric about the buoyancy of the private sector:  "New businesses are opening. Families are moving in. The streetlights are on again. The buses and running again. There is a palpable feeling of pride and community and we have to spread economic revitalization to all of Detroit's neighborhoods." (See here for full speech.) Not a word is mentioned about public goods or public sector jobs. Clearly, the only real job is a private sector job. Hillary Sends a Signal to Wall Street At the same time, she uses a dog whistle to let Wall Street know that she won't be coming down hard on them: “I’m not interested in condemning whole categories of businesses or the entire private sector” Furthermore, she dances around the perils of free-trade deals by putting the entire blame on China, and therefore not on the Clinton and Obama administrations who were/are gung-ho free traders.. Her silence about NAFTA, however, is deafening. And that's very good news to corporate and financial elites because NAFTA is the trade deal that has facilitated the financial strip-mining of the American worker. It has placed U.S. workers into direct daily competition with much less expensive labor south of the boarder. In fact, Hillary argues all such debates are now ancient history. It's unproductive, she claims, to be "re-fighting battles from 20 years ago...." But those battles are not over for Michigan workers who feel the incessant pressure from NAFTA on job security and the downward pressure on incomes and benefits.  Hillary can't rebuild the middle-class, even on her own free-market terms, without undoing large parts of NAFTA. Fearing to take on Financial Strip-mining Throughout her glowing tribute to the private sector, she also duly notes that corporations and financiers care too much about short-term stock prices instead of the long-term health of the company.  She is correct to say that they are spending 80 to 90 percent of all corporate revenues on stock buybacks and dividends: “That’s money they’re not using to train their workers or give them a raise,” And then there are the usual tropes about the "casino culture on Wall Street" and the ever faithful applause line: "We need to make sure Wall Street never wrecks Main Street again." Amen to all that.   But the whip she hope to crack is more like a wet noodle. She wants to reward corporations and investors with tax incentives to encourage long-term investment, worker training and profit sharing with employees. But, she remains stone cold silent on two real power moves that could actually change elite Wall Street and corporate behavior.  She does not talk about outlawing stock buybacks. And she does not mention the financial speculation tax. It is relatively easy for a president to stop stock buybacks. All it takes is a rule change at the SEC.  Until 1982, it was considered stock manipulation for a company to boost its price by buying back its own shares en mass. Reagan's SEC appointee then legalized it. But making stock buybacks illegal again would be fiercely opposed by the very Wall Street executives and CEOs who are filling her campaign coffers.  In fact, the system of runaway inequality is built upon those buybacks  Today, the goal of virtually every large corporation is to use all of its cash-flow to buy back its own shares to enrich its CEOs and largest Wall Street investors. (Please see "It's Shameless Financial Strip-mining" and Profits Without Prosperity) The corruption of Stock Buybacks at GM While noting that the "auto industry just had its best year ever," Hillary ignores the outrageous case of financial strip-mining at GM.  She couldn't mention it because it would also show the revolving door between the Obama administration and Wall Street. Harry Wilson, the Obama administrator who helped to negotiate the GM bailout, then left for a hedge fund job. The 43 year-old Wilson and his investors proceeded buy up 34 million GM shares. Why not? By then he was a GM expert, trained at taxpayer expense. He then demanded that GM  use its cash reserves to buy back its own shares to make he and his investors tens of millions of dollars....for doing nothing at all. Think about the perversity of this ask. The American people bailed out GM to save hundreds of thousands of jobs throughout the Midwest.  Many of us hoped that once GM returned to financial health, it would use its reserves to build the best environmentally sound cars in the world, thereby helping retain U.S. jobs and help our planet survive. Instead, Wilson pressures GM to use its precious cash reserves to buyback its own shares in order to put money into his deep pockets and the pockets of his investors.  Increase GM wages? Increase training? Increase R&D. No way. His wish was GM's command. On January 13, GM announced a $9 billion stock buyback plan. But Hillary couldn't talk about any of this. Because if she did, she would be forced to admit that her fairytale version of capitalism will never work as long as Wall Street dominates the economy. Carefully Ignoring Public Sector Jobs Team Hillary's populist sounding plan is in harmony with the most pernicious neo-liberal principle -- that the private sector, by definition, is more valuable than the public sector -- that all must be done to "encourage" private sector jobs while limiting public sector jobs. Hillary makes no mention at all at the decades-old attack on public sector jobs and benefits. Not a word about the privatization that is wrecking Michigan's public sector. Not a word about the need for increases in public sector jobs to bring safe water to the people of Flint. Instead she just blames the Republicans. When she discusses how to revitalize communities of color left behind, her only way of doing so is through private sector investment. But the public sector is the best path towards the middle class incomes for low-income Americans especially African-Americans. (See "Public Sector Jobs Vanish Hitting Blacks Hard"). She can't bring decent jobs and incomes to low-income communities without an expansion of the public sector. But why the knock on public sector jobs? Because Wall Street and the super-rich would have to pay for those jobs. To have a robust public sector that would get the lead out of inner-city pipes, fix up dilapidated schools, increase the number of teachers, and provide free higher education for all requires the expansion of the public sector.  To maintain a decent society requires an increase in public goods and the hiring of more pubic workers. But doing so, leads us directly to a financial speculation tax on Wall Street as well as the end of off-shore tax havens for the super-rich -- neither of which are mentioned in her economic plan. Instead Team Hillary wants to sound tough on corporate bad actors, while providing tax breaks to most of the private sector. She wants to reign in Wall Street's risky behavior,  without damaging it's financial strip-mining operation. And she wants to let market miraculously create better paying jobs for people of color, while remaining silent on the public sector and 20-year old trade deals. Being Hillary must be exhausting.

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Published on March 08, 2016 00:00

March 7, 2016

The KKK, a brokered convention and cybersecurity — sound familiar?: 5 ways the new “House of Cards” hits close to home

This fourth season of “House of Cards,” which debuted in its entirety on Netflix this Friday, surprised me after two lukewarm seasons by being its best yet. What sets it ahead of the others is its exploration of Claire Underwood (Robin Wright) as a power broker in her own right—first positioning her against Frank (Kevin Spacey) before pivoting, midseason, to let the Underwoods take on the world. The table that “House of Cards” set in season 1 was a pathway to reckless abuse of power and unavoidable, tragic consequences. But — probably because the show kept getting renewed by Netflix, which made it hard to try to end the first season’s narrative — it was difficult for the show to follow through and really make a meal of it. Instead, seasons 2 and 3 of “House of Cards” have had minimal to no narrative stakes, because the house of Underwood always wins. It didn’t matter how bad it got, Frank and Claire would always find a way to come out on top. Season 4 isn’t perfect, by any stretch of the imagination; it goes through its own repetitions of the formula. It would not be a season of “House of Cards” without some bizarre sexual politics, or a mortally imperiled journalist, or chief of staff Doug Stamper (Michael Kelly) flirting with addiction/a woman/disloyalty to Frank and, ultimately, and ruthlessly, finding his way back to the Underwoods. But season 4 is showrunner Beau Willimon’s last season on the show, and in the grand tradition of quitting flight attendants everywhere, he metaphorically curses everyone out and pulls the escape hatch. Adapting this show, Netflix’s first and flagship scripted drama, must have been a thankless task of competing visions and algorithmic demands; it feels like Willimon’s cutting loose in season 4 after at least two long seasons of hewing to the company line. The result is a season that sidelines some of the show’s most salacious plotlines to focus on the chilling realities of long-term abuse of power and the futility of running from unavoidable consequences. There’s only one ridiculous murder all season—a plot arc that is trying to tie up a loose end from last season—and much time spent on processing the emotional weight of past ridiculous murders, like those of Zoe Barnes (Kate Mara) and Peter Russo (Corey Stoll). But the craziest coup of season 4, as Slate’s Willa Paskin also discusses, is that this season hits much closer to home, politically, than most of “House of Cards’" Machiavellian politics ever have. Paskin writes, “For its first three seasons, House of Cards’ version of realpolitik was so purple, it even appealed to people who spend their days politicking,” adding, “Its politics are scoffable, but its entertainment value unlimited.” But this season—its first major election season, since its debut in 2013—the televisual “House of Cards” has found surprising relevance in an election landscape that feels like a plot from a season of reality television. Here are five plot threads from season 4 that have alarmingly similar parallels in real life. And just in case this wasn’t obvious already, plot details from the entirety of season 4 follow! 1. The KKK haunts a presidential candidate. Early in the season, when Claire and Frank are still working against each other, Claire sends her new campaign manager into a safe deposit box to uncover a photograph of Frank’s father with a hooded and costumed member of the Ku Klux Klan. Her campaign manager, Leann Harvey (Neve Campbell), arranges to have the photograph blown up and put on billboards all over South Carolina, the day before the state’s crucial primary. Frank spends the entirety of “Chapter 42” scrambling to stay ahead of it—losing endorsements from Texas congresswoman Doris Jones (Cicely Tyson) before standing up in front of a black congregation in his hometown of Gaffney to apologize, explain and eat humble pie. On one hand, “House of Cards” stretches the audience’s imagination by suggesting that Frank Underwood is so folksy and charming that he would somehow win over even a historically black, historically marginalized community with the pure power of speech. On the other hand, at least he apologized! Because in real life, GOP frontrunner Donald Trump was endorsed by self-identified white supremacist and former Grand Wizard of the KKK David Duke, and Trump took far, far too long to disavow that endorsement. Following the public outcry on the topic, there is still continued speculation on whether he actually did disavow either Duke, the KKK or white supremacists. The topic has become a major talking point for establishment Republicans who are trying to make the case against Trump for the nomination. Plus, as Boing Boing reports, Donald Trump’s father was arrested in 1927 in the aftermath of a Klan “brawl”; from the available information, it’s difficult to say if Fred Trump was part of the Klan’s activities or just a bystander drawn into the conflict. Which is very similar to the story that Frank Underwood tells about his dad—he says his father went to the KKK in order to borrow money for their failing family farm. Of course, Trump has denied his father was even arrested, and Fred Trump was sued by the Justice Department for allegedly instructing one of his rental agents to not rent to black people — meaning that “House of Cards” story about the KKK is, astonishingly, less ridiculous and manipulative than Trump’s real-life one. 2. A brokered convention. One of the season’s craziest twists is that Claire and Frank hatch a plan to make her not just his first lady but also his running mate—an unprecedented and almost monarchial bid for power that proves to be a commentary on marriage, gender and politics. But, besides all of that, what makes it actually happen is the chaos of the show’s Democratic National Convention, in which the Underwoods plant votes throughout the states and then create a narrative around the death of Claire’s mother that sweeps her to success. There’s a lot of backstage strong-arming of Secretary of State Cathy Durant (Jayne Atkinson), who is leading the votes from the delegates for vice president until she throws her support behind Claire. In-party politics and onstage convention drama are the source of conflict for any number of fictional takes on the American presidency, including “Veep” and “The West Wing.” But it is sort of crazy to watch “House of Cards” present what is in some ways a rough draft for what might be a very contentious Republican National Convention this summer in Cleveland. A brokered convention has not happened in real life since 1952 — largely because televising them showed the American people just how horrible party politics were — but fractured support for Trump in the Republican Party, as well as the death throes of establishment GOP candidates with nothing to lose, makes a brokered convention look more possible than ever. 3. Cybersecurity meets domestic terrorism; both make a mess of the national conversation. The last half of the season, more of less, follows the Underwood administration’s increasing focus on the “Islamic Caliphate Organization,” or “ICO,” which is the show’s clear stand-in for the Islamic State (which is variously abbreviated as ISIS, ISIL or just IS). The plotline moves from discussion to reality in the last two episodes of the season, when a collection of white terrorists who have declared allegiance to ICO take hostage a family from Knoxville and use them as bait to attempt to force a prisoner exchange. The show is only able to convey the horror of this experience for the average American through a few quick scenes with people who aren’t hardboiled and heartless politicians, which means that like a lot of the drama on “House of Cards,” it doesn’t entirely feel real. But with the real-life election right now dominated by a squabble over unlocking an iPhone — which is really a major discussion about the San Bernardino killers’ motives and the FBI’s intrusion into civilians’ privacy — what does ring true about “House of Cards’" domestic terrorism is how phone surveillance and phone security become so intimately entangled in the show’s investigation. The legally questionable hacker who was working on securing the election for the Underwoods turns his attention to finding the terrorists based on their phones; he starts tracking them down via the clue of ambient background birdsong. “House of Cards” has had trouble telling its cybersecurity stories, too — season 3's was a disaster — but what’s particularly startling here is how neatly they intersect, in what is already a charged political minefield of national security, Edward Snowden, Islamist terrorism and digital privacy rights. To my mind, what’s really uncanny about “House of Cards’" depiction is the ill-informed or ill-understood technobabble that starts taking over the show. It bears a great deal of unsettling resemblance to the mainstream media conversation trying to break down the significance of a private email server, or encrypted text messages, or a backdoor into a phone’s security system. The show plays into some really tired hacker tropes—like green lines snaking across a black screen, à la “The Matrix”—which reinforces just how ludicrously abstract the discussions of these technologies are to the average citizen. 4. Hand-wringing and criticism about a certain kind of couple. I covered this much more exhaustively yesterday, but the driving force of “House of Cards” for the last few seasons has been creating the Underwoods as a parallel to President Bill Clinton and former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton—primarily by investigating, analyzing and speculating on the relationship between the two, given everything we know from the outside world. With Claire’s push for public office, the Underwoods’ marriage is under more scrutiny than ever in the public world of “House of Cards,” as the media picks up first on tension between the two and then on their particularly cold and codependent functionality. The “House of Cards” universe, of course, displays the Underwoods in all kinds of polyamorous, incestuous and destructive sexual relations, including one at the end of this season where Claire brings the speechwriter she’s sleeping with straight from the bedroom to the kitchen table, for breakfast with Frank. Tom Yates (Paul Sparks) is younger than the Underwoods, so the effect is less of a sexy threesome and more of the Underwoods at breakfast with their grown-up son. (It’s a lot. Given that Tom is the character who is most like showrunner Willimon—in that he fictionalizes a version of this powerful political couple, both because he is repulsed by them and obsessed with them—it’s even more of a lot.) In real life, writers like Meghan Daum and Rebecca Traister have tried to crack the mysterious efficacy of the Clinton marriage, which has been a political burden for Hillary as much as it has been an advantage. Deep-seated suspicion of the Clintons seems to stem from the secrecy and power that dominates their relationship. Daum even uses the phrase “true partnership,” which is repeated over and over again in the latter half of “House of Cards” season 4, when the Underwoods are running as not just husband and wife but also as presumptive president and VP. And to add an Obama analogy to the Underwoods’ Clintons — which is to say, to add insult to injury — “House of Cards” introduces the Conways this season, played by Joel Kinnaman and Dominique McElligott. Will and Hannah Conway are the Republican power couple opposing the Underwoods, and they are the diametric opposite of the chilly, austere Underwoods, with two kids, a loving marriage, some sort of sex life, and, as the Underwoods see it, far too many glaring weaknesses. What they do provide their voters is authenticity, which is, of course, just another twist of the knife. 5. Institutional racism is offered some lip service early on and then completely ignored. The first few episodes of “House of Cards” focus on a particular open seat in Texas and then, shortly thereafter, Frank’s attempts to get ahead of the KKK scandal. In those scenes, first Claire and then Frank spar with Doris and Celia Jones (Tyson and Lisa Gay Hamilton), a mother-daughter pair of black politicians who are representing a historically black district. Initially, Doris and Celia throw their weight behind Frank, but when the KKK photo emerges, both pull their support. Celia says, in “Chapter 42”: “My mother was beaten and hosed down in marches. You want us to vouch for a man whose father was in the KKK? … This is the state where the Civil War started, where you can still see the rebel flag on bumper stickers. There is a history of racist brutality here, Mr. President! Those sort of symbols matter.” Frank gives up talking to her, and appeals instead to her mother, pleads with Doris for some goodwill. She responds curtly: “When we stop getting getting beaten and shot, you’ll have my goodwill, Mr. President.” And then, aside from a brief moment at the convention, the Joneses disappear, and along with them, the discussion of the “history of racist brutality.” Maybe I'm being very pessimistic, but this sidelining felt awfully familiar to me. In the real world, the Black Lives Matter movement was a major force late last year in terms of changing Sen. Bernie Sanders’ narrative around police brutality and shaping Hillary Clinton’s policy package. But aside from one or two debate questions, the question of police brutality toward black Americans has been sidelined, as has discussion of the institutional racism that permits such brutality. The water crisis in Flint, Michigan, has become the go-to “race issue” de rigueur — but the dialogue around that often focuses more on malpractice by one person, or one administration, than institutional discrimination. Frank and Claire Underwood pivot from racism to war; Bernie Sanders and Hillary Clinton pivot to their upcoming debate in Florida. Both in the real world and in the world of “House of Cards,” the band plays on, enjoying its own momentum.This fourth season of “House of Cards,” which debuted in its entirety on Netflix this Friday, surprised me after two lukewarm seasons by being its best yet. What sets it ahead of the others is its exploration of Claire Underwood (Robin Wright) as a power broker in her own right—first positioning her against Frank (Kevin Spacey) before pivoting, midseason, to let the Underwoods take on the world. The table that “House of Cards” set in season 1 was a pathway to reckless abuse of power and unavoidable, tragic consequences. But — probably because the show kept getting renewed by Netflix, which made it hard to try to end the first season’s narrative — it was difficult for the show to follow through and really make a meal of it. Instead, seasons 2 and 3 of “House of Cards” have had minimal to no narrative stakes, because the house of Underwood always wins. It didn’t matter how bad it got, Frank and Claire would always find a way to come out on top. Season 4 isn’t perfect, by any stretch of the imagination; it goes through its own repetitions of the formula. It would not be a season of “House of Cards” without some bizarre sexual politics, or a mortally imperiled journalist, or chief of staff Doug Stamper (Michael Kelly) flirting with addiction/a woman/disloyalty to Frank and, ultimately, and ruthlessly, finding his way back to the Underwoods. But season 4 is showrunner Beau Willimon’s last season on the show, and in the grand tradition of quitting flight attendants everywhere, he metaphorically curses everyone out and pulls the escape hatch. Adapting this show, Netflix’s first and flagship scripted drama, must have been a thankless task of competing visions and algorithmic demands; it feels like Willimon’s cutting loose in season 4 after at least two long seasons of hewing to the company line. The result is a season that sidelines some of the show’s most salacious plotlines to focus on the chilling realities of long-term abuse of power and the futility of running from unavoidable consequences. There’s only one ridiculous murder all season—a plot arc that is trying to tie up a loose end from last season—and much time spent on processing the emotional weight of past ridiculous murders, like those of Zoe Barnes (Kate Mara) and Peter Russo (Corey Stoll). But the craziest coup of season 4, as Slate’s Willa Paskin also discusses, is that this season hits much closer to home, politically, than most of “House of Cards’" Machiavellian politics ever have. Paskin writes, “For its first three seasons, House of Cards’ version of realpolitik was so purple, it even appealed to people who spend their days politicking,” adding, “Its politics are scoffable, but its entertainment value unlimited.” But this season—its first major election season, since its debut in 2013—the televisual “House of Cards” has found surprising relevance in an election landscape that feels like a plot from a season of reality television. Here are five plot threads from season 4 that have alarmingly similar parallels in real life. And just in case this wasn’t obvious already, plot details from the entirety of season 4 follow! 1. The KKK haunts a presidential candidate. Early in the season, when Claire and Frank are still working against each other, Claire sends her new campaign manager into a safe deposit box to uncover a photograph of Frank’s father with a hooded and costumed member of the Ku Klux Klan. Her campaign manager, Leann Harvey (Neve Campbell), arranges to have the photograph blown up and put on billboards all over South Carolina, the day before the state’s crucial primary. Frank spends the entirety of “Chapter 42” scrambling to stay ahead of it—losing endorsements from Texas congresswoman Doris Jones (Cicely Tyson) before standing up in front of a black congregation in his hometown of Gaffney to apologize, explain and eat humble pie. On one hand, “House of Cards” stretches the audience’s imagination by suggesting that Frank Underwood is so folksy and charming that he would somehow win over even a historically black, historically marginalized community with the pure power of speech. On the other hand, at least he apologized! Because in real life, GOP frontrunner Donald Trump was endorsed by self-identified white supremacist and former Grand Wizard of the KKK David Duke, and Trump took far, far too long to disavow that endorsement. Following the public outcry on the topic, there is still continued speculation on whether he actually did disavow either Duke, the KKK or white supremacists. The topic has become a major talking point for establishment Republicans who are trying to make the case against Trump for the nomination. Plus, as Boing Boing reports, Donald Trump’s father was arrested in 1927 in the aftermath of a Klan “brawl”; from the available information, it’s difficult to say if Fred Trump was part of the Klan’s activities or just a bystander drawn into the conflict. Which is very similar to the story that Frank Underwood tells about his dad—he says his father went to the KKK in order to borrow money for their failing family farm. Of course, Trump has denied his father was even arrested, and Fred Trump was sued by the Justice Department for allegedly instructing one of his rental agents to not rent to black people — meaning that “House of Cards” story about the KKK is, astonishingly, less ridiculous and manipulative than Trump’s real-life one. 2. A brokered convention. One of the season’s craziest twists is that Claire and Frank hatch a plan to make her not just his first lady but also his running mate—an unprecedented and almost monarchial bid for power that proves to be a commentary on marriage, gender and politics. But, besides all of that, what makes it actually happen is the chaos of the show’s Democratic National Convention, in which the Underwoods plant votes throughout the states and then create a narrative around the death of Claire’s mother that sweeps her to success. There’s a lot of backstage strong-arming of Secretary of State Cathy Durant (Jayne Atkinson), who is leading the votes from the delegates for vice president until she throws her support behind Claire. In-party politics and onstage convention drama are the source of conflict for any number of fictional takes on the American presidency, including “Veep” and “The West Wing.” But it is sort of crazy to watch “House of Cards” present what is in some ways a rough draft for what might be a very contentious Republican National Convention this summer in Cleveland. A brokered convention has not happened in real life since 1952 — largely because televising them showed the American people just how horrible party politics were — but fractured support for Trump in the Republican Party, as well as the death throes of establishment GOP candidates with nothing to lose, makes a brokered convention look more possible than ever. 3. Cybersecurity meets domestic terrorism; both make a mess of the national conversation. The last half of the season, more of less, follows the Underwood administration’s increasing focus on the “Islamic Caliphate Organization,” or “ICO,” which is the show’s clear stand-in for the Islamic State (which is variously abbreviated as ISIS, ISIL or just IS). The plotline moves from discussion to reality in the last two episodes of the season, when a collection of white terrorists who have declared allegiance to ICO take hostage a family from Knoxville and use them as bait to attempt to force a prisoner exchange. The show is only able to convey the horror of this experience for the average American through a few quick scenes with people who aren’t hardboiled and heartless politicians, which means that like a lot of the drama on “House of Cards,” it doesn’t entirely feel real. But with the real-life election right now dominated by a squabble over unlocking an iPhone — which is really a major discussion about the San Bernardino killers’ motives and the FBI’s intrusion into civilians’ privacy — what does ring true about “House of Cards’" domestic terrorism is how phone surveillance and phone security become so intimately entangled in the show’s investigation. The legally questionable hacker who was working on securing the election for the Underwoods turns his attention to finding the terrorists based on their phones; he starts tracking them down via the clue of ambient background birdsong. “House of Cards” has had trouble telling its cybersecurity stories, too — season 3's was a disaster — but what’s particularly startling here is how neatly they intersect, in what is already a charged political minefield of national security, Edward Snowden, Islamist terrorism and digital privacy rights. To my mind, what’s really uncanny about “House of Cards’" depiction is the ill-informed or ill-understood technobabble that starts taking over the show. It bears a great deal of unsettling resemblance to the mainstream media conversation trying to break down the significance of a private email server, or encrypted text messages, or a backdoor into a phone’s security system. The show plays into some really tired hacker tropes—like green lines snaking across a black screen, à la “The Matrix”—which reinforces just how ludicrously abstract the discussions of these technologies are to the average citizen. 4. Hand-wringing and criticism about a certain kind of couple. I covered this much more exhaustively yesterday, but the driving force of “House of Cards” for the last few seasons has been creating the Underwoods as a parallel to President Bill Clinton and former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton—primarily by investigating, analyzing and speculating on the relationship between the two, given everything we know from the outside world. With Claire’s push for public office, the Underwoods’ marriage is under more scrutiny than ever in the public world of “House of Cards,” as the media picks up first on tension between the two and then on their particularly cold and codependent functionality. The “House of Cards” universe, of course, displays the Underwoods in all kinds of polyamorous, incestuous and destructive sexual relations, including one at the end of this season where Claire brings the speechwriter she’s sleeping with straight from the bedroom to the kitchen table, for breakfast with Frank. Tom Yates (Paul Sparks) is younger than the Underwoods, so the effect is less of a sexy threesome and more of the Underwoods at breakfast with their grown-up son. (It’s a lot. Given that Tom is the character who is most like showrunner Willimon—in that he fictionalizes a version of this powerful political couple, both because he is repulsed by them and obsessed with them—it’s even more of a lot.) In real life, writers like Meghan Daum and Rebecca Traister have tried to crack the mysterious efficacy of the Clinton marriage, which has been a political burden for Hillary as much as it has been an advantage. Deep-seated suspicion of the Clintons seems to stem from the secrecy and power that dominates their relationship. Daum even uses the phrase “true partnership,” which is repeated over and over again in the latter half of “House of Cards” season 4, when the Underwoods are running as not just husband and wife but also as presumptive president and VP. And to add an Obama analogy to the Underwoods’ Clintons — which is to say, to add insult to injury — “House of Cards” introduces the Conways this season, played by Joel Kinnaman and Dominique McElligott. Will and Hannah Conway are the Republican power couple opposing the Underwoods, and they are the diametric opposite of the chilly, austere Underwoods, with two kids, a loving marriage, some sort of sex life, and, as the Underwoods see it, far too many glaring weaknesses. What they do provide their voters is authenticity, which is, of course, just another twist of the knife. 5. Institutional racism is offered some lip service early on and then completely ignored. The first few episodes of “House of Cards” focus on a particular open seat in Texas and then, shortly thereafter, Frank’s attempts to get ahead of the KKK scandal. In those scenes, first Claire and then Frank spar with Doris and Celia Jones (Tyson and Lisa Gay Hamilton), a mother-daughter pair of black politicians who are representing a historically black district. Initially, Doris and Celia throw their weight behind Frank, but when the KKK photo emerges, both pull their support. Celia says, in “Chapter 42”: “My mother was beaten and hosed down in marches. You want us to vouch for a man whose father was in the KKK? … This is the state where the Civil War started, where you can still see the rebel flag on bumper stickers. There is a history of racist brutality here, Mr. President! Those sort of symbols matter.” Frank gives up talking to her, and appeals instead to her mother, pleads with Doris for some goodwill. She responds curtly: “When we stop getting getting beaten and shot, you’ll have my goodwill, Mr. President.” And then, aside from a brief moment at the convention, the Joneses disappear, and along with them, the discussion of the “history of racist brutality.” Maybe I'm being very pessimistic, but this sidelining felt awfully familiar to me. In the real world, the Black Lives Matter movement was a major force late last year in terms of changing Sen. Bernie Sanders’ narrative around police brutality and shaping Hillary Clinton’s policy package. But aside from one or two debate questions, the question of police brutality toward black Americans has been sidelined, as has discussion of the institutional racism that permits such brutality. The water crisis in Flint, Michigan, has become the go-to “race issue” de rigueur — but the dialogue around that often focuses more on malpractice by one person, or one administration, than institutional discrimination. Frank and Claire Underwood pivot from racism to war; Bernie Sanders and Hillary Clinton pivot to their upcoming debate in Florida. Both in the real world and in the world of “House of Cards,” the band plays on, enjoying its own momentum.

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Published on March 07, 2016 16:00

“Parading kids onstage … to be the butt of a racist joke”? This is Chris Rock’s idea of progress?

It wasn't until Laura Kung attended the Oscars rehearsal that she realized what her family had signed up for. Her daughter, Estie, a badass in her own right, had been selected as one of three children who would share the stage with host Chris Rock. Laura had been told that they would be introduced as accountants from PricewaterhouseCoopers, the firm that tabulates the Oscars results. She assumed the bit would be complex, perhaps an artful takedown of the crude stereotype that Asians excel at math. Instead, she would soon realize, Rock's elementary joke merely restated it. “[Pricewaterhouse] sent us their most dedicated, accurate and hard-working representatives. I want you to please welcome Ming Zhu, Bao Ling and David Moskowitz,” Rock said, providing his audience with the uncomfortable choice of applauding and welcoming three children or silently protesting racism. According to Public Radio International, “After Estie got her tux fitted and was already looking forward to the opportunity...her parents heard the entirety of the joke for the first time. But they had already signed the contract and had to confront the very likely possibility that their daughter would be part of a racist joke that would cause an uproar. After talking to Estie, they ultimately decided to take the optimistic point of view, believing that an inappropriate Asian joke that might provoke a difficult public conversation may be preferable if the status-quo alternative was to have no Asian presence at all.” This specific instance is emblematic of the minority experience in Hollywood, one that has parallels with the #OscarsSoWhite conversation that dominated much of Rock's humor throughout the evening. Giants such as Will and Jada Pinkett Smith and Spike Lee chose not to attend the event, prompting many to unfairly place the onus of solving Hollywood's diversity problem upon other minorities, who stood to gain the most from a high-profile appearance at a highly rated awards show. But the conversation also raised important questions about who gets to have agency in the industry. Rock said it best himself during his opening monologue. “It’s not about boycotting anything. It’s just, we want opportunity. We want black actors to get the same opportunities as white actors ... Not just once. Leo gets a great part every year ... all you guys get great parts all the time.” A highlight of the evening came when Rock interviewed black moviegoers, asking what they thought of films like "Trumbo" and "Bridge of Spies." “Where are you getting these movies from?” one asked. “These are real movies!” Rock insisted. “No, it's not. I watch movies. I come to the movies all the time,” she fired back. When he asked whether they saw "Straight Outta Compton," however, responses were far more enthusiastic. “I did see that,” “I loved it!” and “Oh hell yeah,” were representative answers. The bit successfully, and hilariously, conveyed that the films being honored that evening represented only a small sliver of what is considered great, moving art, as determined by a small sliver of the population. In a recent New York Times feature titled “What It’s Really Like to Work in Hollywood (*If you’re not a straight white man)” writer and director Rick Famuyiwa suggested this problem extended beyond the academy. “It’s always a weird conversation when you’re trying to explain how a film about kids from Inglewood can be mainstream,” he said, “but you don’t have the same conversation about a very specific set of kids in suburban Chicago or South Boston.” Asian writers and directors face similar challenges. In the same feature, director Justin Lin described the challenges he faced in attempting to secure funding for his first film, "Better Luck Tomorrow." “[R]ight away everybody’s like, 'It’s an Asian-American cast. It’ll never sell.' And a lot of them were Asian-American investors. A guy offered $1 million ... he said, 'We’ll get Macaulay Culkin to be the lead.'” So it came as quite a blow when Rock himself, given the chance to provide young actors of color with “great parts,” chose to, as actress Constance Wu put it, “parade little kids on stage w/no speaking lines merely to be the butt of a racist joke.” Much like Rock's decision not to participate in the boycott, the Kungs' decision to participate in the bit made moral and practical sense, which makes it all the more heartbreaking. The only way for Estie to seize opportunity was to be used as a mascot by a man who, minutes earlier, condemned Hollywood for its failure to provide only white actors with an array of them. For his part, Rock anticipated a backlash, which made the joke even more offensive for its deliberate cruelty. “If anybody's upset about that joke, just tweet about it on your phone that was also made by these kids,” he said. The implication was that anyone who enjoys products from a company that employs child labor has no right to condemn racist humor. The logic is absurd, similar to suggesting that accepting the hosting gig strips Rock of his right to criticize the academy. Of course, many of us benefit from systems that implicitly devalue and anonymize people of color. How could that possibly redeem Rock for explicitly doing so? Yet suggesting that such matters are unimportant was a recurring theme of the evening. In his opening, Rock claimed that black people hadn't protested the academy in the past because they were instead focusing on “real things.” “We were too busy being raped and lynched to care about who won best cinematographer,” he said. “When your grandmother’s swinging from a tree, it’s really hard to care about best documentary foreign short.” It didn't not make me uncomfortable to see white stars such as Jennifer Lawrence guffawing at the triviality of protesting for greater diversity in the arts. Rock has dedicated his life to comedy, not feeding the poor or curing the sick or addressing what he might call “real” problems, but his work is still meaningful, important and can do “real” good. Because the two realms are not entirely separable. Pretending greater representation is only important insofar as it provides actors of color with greater opportunity is like saying the election of our first black president only has value for aspiring politicians. Diversity on-screen doesn't just matter to actors, it matters to audiences. Increased visibility helps challenge norms that put poor children in factories rather than schools. Explicitly degrading people props up systems that implicitly degrade them. It makes them more palatable. To be clear, I did not expect, and would have been disappointed by, a sanitized evening void of provocative humor, the kind Rock is widely regarded for. But Rock himself has acknowledged that offensive humor isn't necessarily provocative, and can instead be trite, unfunny and useless as both entertainment and social commentary. “There were just too many cliché jokes,” he once said in an interview with New York. “I never wanted to do that horrible gay voice that everybody does ... I didn’t want to do impressions of each ethnic group.” Rock was not mocking a stereotype, but casually reinforcing one as though it were an act of defiance. To say that Asians are nothing but quiet calculators is not edgy. It's the dominant cultural narrative, one that has a tremendous impact upon the lived experiences of young Asian-Americans. It is precisely the kind of joke Rock claims he never wanted to tell. In his opening monologue, Rock described the experience of meeting Barack Obama at a fundraiser. Right before a picture was snapped, he said, “Mr. President, you see all these writers and producers and actors? They don’t hire black people, and they’re the nicest white people on earth! They’re liberals! Cheese!” Laura Kung, describing her naiveté when she brought Estie to that audition, had similar feelings. “I assumed there was a bigger picture, a more complex joke given all the emphasis placed on diversity at the Oscars this year.” Yet during this year, this was the best a brilliant comedian could do by three children, and by the millions more watching at home. Say Cheese, Estie!

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Published on March 07, 2016 16:00

“It’s just a toilet!”: Students take the lead in promoting gender-neutral bathrooms to protect transgender students

Students at Sandee High School in Los Angeles are the latest to campaign for gender-neutral bathrooms as a way to protect transgender and other students who don’t feel safe or comfortable with the status quo. In a student-penned Op-Ed piece in the Los Angeles Times’ High School insider, user Brobinson1 wrote, “For many years on the campus of Santee, we have seen the need for gender-neutral restrooms. Many students on campus feel unsafe and unwanted in the gender specific restrooms we have now. When you come to school, it’s supposed to be a safe space. Santee’s mission statement is ‘Santee will become a safe, supportive and caring institution of academic excellence’ and by having gender-neutral restrooms, it will help us fulfill this mission.” The student wrote that there’s “excitement on campus,” evidenced by 400 signatures they’ve gathered so far for this initiative, and that they hope to foment a “toilet revolution” in their school district. They’re riding a wave of activism around the issue at high schools in Needham, Massachusetts, and Des Moines, Iowa, among many others, where administrators have enacted gender-neutral restrooms as a result of students speaking out on the issue. In 2013, after North Portland, Oregon’s Grant High School instituted six unisex bathrooms in response to student complaints, transgender student Grant Morrison told the Oregonian he had stopped drinking water in order not to be forced to choose between the girls or boys bathroom. Of the change, Morrison said, “You don't even have to think about it, and that's great.” Of course, the need for such facilities extends far beyond schools into any public arena where it’s a concern for those who might face harassment because of their gender. It’s become a prominent issue on college campuses and in local legislatures such as New York City, where on Monday Mayor Bill de Blasio signed an executive order “that guarantees people access to single-sex facilities consistent with their gender identity at city facilities,” according to CBS New York. Of the decision, de Blasio said, “Access to bathrooms and other single-sex facilities is a fundamental human right that should not be restricted or denied to any individual.” Even the Unitarian Universalist Association offers suggestions on how to convert a building’s restrooms to accommodate gender neutral bathrooms. Far more problematic are the recent state legislatures tackling “bathroom bills” that would enact dangerous rules requiring students to use the bathrooms and locker rooms that match their sex at birth. One such bill was vetoed last week by South Dakota Gov. Dennis Daugaard. A similar bill in Tennessee being opposed by transgender rights groups would require public school and university students to “use student restroom and locker room facilities that are assigned for use by persons of the same sex as the sex indicated on the student’s original birth certificate.” As author Ivan Coyote explained the issue in a 2015 TEDx Vancouver talk on the urgency of gender-neutral bathrooms to protect the safety of transgender people, “As a trans person who doesn’t fit neatly into the gender binary, if I could change the world tomorrow to make it easier for me to navigate, the very first thing I would do is blink and create single stall, gender-neutral bathrooms in public places … Today as a trans person, public bathrooms and change rooms are where I am most likely to be questioned or harassed. I’ve often been verbally attacked behind their doors. I’ve been hauled out by security guards with my pants still halfway pulled up. I’ve been stared at, screamed at, whispered about, and one time I got smacked in the face by a little old lady’s purse that from the looks of the shiner I took home that day I am pretty certain contained at least 70 dollars of rolled up small change and a large hard candy collection.” While it’s becoming more common to hear about public buildings, such as Boston’s City Hall and the White House, creating gender-neutral restrooms, what’s remarkable about the high school activism is how students are advocating on their own behalf to each other and the powers that be, explaining what’s become a political hot-button issue in ways that are simple, straightforward and heartfelt. They are able to cut to the core of why they’re petitioning for these changes and how it directly impacts the learning environment of their peers. In late 2015, Jake Hershman, a senior and co-president of the Gay Straight Alliance at Cherry Hill East in New Jersey, explained his successful petition to get the school to install a gender-neutral bathroom by saying, “Right now people who are gender-neutral are using the nurse’s bathroom on the far side of the school because they face harassment in the bathrooms or feel uncomfortable using it. The nurse’s bathroom is where people throw up and things like that and is not very clean and far away from the classes. The gender-neutral bathroom gives them a better option because it is close to their classes and is harassment-free.” As the Sandee High School writer put it, “Once we start talking about the issue, most students understand and want to support it. We have also posted flyers around the campus with a campaign slogan saying, ‘It’s just a toilet!’ to get students thinking and start critical conversations.” However, gender-neutral restrooms are not the solution for all students, as evidenced by the case of Gavin Grimm, a transgender Gloucester, Virginia, high school student, who’s appealing a court that denied him the right to use the boys' bathroom. He had done so without incident for two months, but following complaints from parents, the school then denied him access to the boys' bathroom. Grimm told the Washington Post, “I feel humiliated and dysphoric every time I’m forced to use a separate facility.” His case is now being argued by the ACLU, and received support from a friend-of-the-court brief filed by the U.S. Department of Education and the Department of Justice. As Grimm explained it in a 2014 article on the ACLU’s website, “my school board voted on a discriminatory policy that restricts use of male and female facilities to those of a corresponding biological sex. That night, I was promised access to unisex restrooms starting the following day. They were not actually opened until several days later. The school board may think they solved the problem, but being offered a unisex bathroom still singles me out from other students since I'm the only one required to use it. I am boy, and it is important to me to live life like other boys do, including using the boys' bathroom.” It’s worth noting that Grimm has emphasized that it was not his fellow students causing him distress over his bathroom options, but parents and the school administration that chose to kowtow to them. That seems to be a sign that the majority of his peers have no problem with him going about his bathroom business as he sees fit; it’s those who aren’t in school with him who are attempting to impose their own prejudicial notions on him, despite his explanations of the mental anguish their decision has meant for him. While what Grimm is seeking — the ability to use the restroom of his gender, rather than a gender-neutral one — differs from what many of his peers are fighting for, what they have in common is their outspokenness in their pursuit of justice. Let’s hope that by the time these now-students are in charge of running things, allowing students access to safe, accessible bathrooms regardless of gender is par for the course.

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Published on March 07, 2016 15:59

“My first novel was about celebrity semen trafficking, so I’m not claiming to be a pundit”: 4 authors open up about their new books and careers

For February, I posed a series of questions — with, as always, a few verbal restrictions — to four authors with new books: Danielle Dutton (“Margaret the First”), Kaitlyn Greenidge (“We Love You, Charlie Freeman”), Jon Methven (“Strange Boat”), Karan Mahajan (“The Association of Small Bombs”). Without summarizing it in any way, what would you say your book is about? Daniel Dutton: It’s a little like "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" if Stephen were a woman living at a time when women weren't allowed to be artists. Kaitlyn Greenidge: My book is about language, family and the reverberations of the past. Jon Methven: The immensity of the end—be it a career, or relationship, or faith, or mortgage, or life, or all of them—and then deciding to survive, no matter the obstacle. It’s a book about survival.  Karan Mahajan: Bombs. Without explaining why and without naming other authors or books, can you discuss the various influences on your book? Mahajan: Mahler. Max Richter. Americanos (the coffee, not the people). The Indian state of Uttar Pradesh. Bangalore. The Indian railway system. Dutton: Seventeenth-century garden design. The New Science. Men. Utopias. Wonder. Weather. Gossip. Maps. The Great Fire of London. Cristina, the (cross-dressing) Queen of Sweden. Seventeenth-century cookery and fashion. Greenidge: My book is influenced by the tragedy of the limits of language. Methven: A cross-country road trip, the 24-hour news cycle, cults, government surveillance, Armageddon, constant fundraisers, space colonization, marching bands. Without using complete sentences, can you describe what was going on in your life as you wrote this book? Methven: The birth of my sons, day job, an illness, Mars One, New York City, happiness. Dutton: Grad school. Adjuncting. First house. Baby. Full-time job. No sleep. Dorothy, a publishing project. Academic job market. Job. Second house. Greenidge: Trials, tribulations and my Saturn return. Mahajan: Turmoil. Revision. Restless switching between India and the U.S., between New York and Bangalore, between Austin and Delhi. Meditation. What are some words you despise that have been used to describe your writing by readers and/or reviewers? Greenidge: Readable, entertaining, accessible. I worked very hard to make the book all of those things but I think reviewers use those words sometimes to mean "dumb" or "not very serious" or "fluffy." No one has suggested that my book is dumb, far from it. But I find it disturbing that some critics of literary fiction look suspiciously on the desire to communicate with a reader. Mahajan: Apparently, the city of Delhi is a “character” in my novels. I’d argue that it’s a … city … in my novels. Dutton: I like words too much! I don’t blame the words. Methven: Overdone. Slapstick. Ugh. Painfully bad. The last was from an editor who opened a Yahoo! account, jmethvenwillneverwrite4XXX@yahoo.com, solely to send one email of how much he hated my writing. He promised he would never check the account so not to reply. If you could choose a career besides writing (irrespective of schooling requirements and/or talent) what would it be? Methven: I make excellent sandwiches. Yo-Yo Ma is to cellists as I am to processed meats. Just a small, quaint, out-of-the-way deli where people from around the world would come to photograph my sandwich sculptures. Greenidge: Secretary of education in the United States (provided I had unilateral powers and could work as a benevolent dictator). It is heartbreaking what sometimes happens to education in this country. Our greatest asset is the potential of free, quality, public education for all, regardless of race and class, and I think it should be protected and promoted at all costs. That sounds very authoritarian, but we live in extremist times, I guess. Mahajan: Urban planner. Dutton: I’d choose a job that wasn’t as solitary as writing. My entire girlhood I wanted to be an actress, but I think really I wanted to be part of a cast. Or maybe I just wanted to be the characters I loved. I wanted to be Jane Eyre. Or Antigone. Today I’m tired and cold, so I would like to be Lady Mary and live at Downton Abbey and have Anna come and warm my nightgown before the fire. What craft elements do you think are your strong suit, and what would you like to be better at? Mahajan: I’m good at description and imparting flow to a story, but I don’t necessarily understand the value of long scenes. Maybe I’d like to be more boring? Methven: I have a good imagination, so my ideas result in fun hooks for stories. I probably need work on dialogue, plot, setting, character, structure, etc. Dutton: I don't know if you'd call it craft, but one thing I like about my writing is that everything I write is totally different from everything else I write. One result is that I never get too expert at anything, and the thing I wanted to get better at changes all the time. Greenidge: I wish I was better at dialogue. Or rather, that it came more naturally to me. It always reads false, even in the fifth or sixth draft. I think I'm pretty good at writing a certain kind of first person. How do you contend with the hubris of thinking anyone has or should have any interest in what you have to say about anything? Greenidge: Ha, that is a pretty combative question, isn't it? I don't think anyone should have interest in what anyone has to say, per se. No one is waiting for your next great novel with bated breath. I don't write with that in mind: that someone should have to listen to me. I write mostly about things that interest me, that I find fascinating. I write toward things that I long to see in literature and that I feel are missing. I write in response to books that infuriate or enthrall me. I don't write with the belief that the world is waiting eagerly for me to inflict my opinions on it. Mahajan: I put my thoughts in a book, which must mean I don’t want anyone to read them. Dutton: Oh, the world is large. It contains multitudes. If there are people on the planet who care what Donald Trump says, why not people who care what I have to say? But also: I don’t think of a novel as something I’m saying about something. I think a novel is more complicated and magical than that. Methven: My first novel was about celebrity semen trafficking, so I’m not claiming to be a pundit on anything. There are so many great books and essays and websites, it’s an honor when anyone reads or writes about something I’ve written.For February, I posed a series of questions — with, as always, a few verbal restrictions — to four authors with new books: Danielle Dutton (“Margaret the First”), Kaitlyn Greenidge (“We Love You, Charlie Freeman”), Jon Methven (“Strange Boat”), Karan Mahajan (“The Association of Small Bombs”). Without summarizing it in any way, what would you say your book is about? Daniel Dutton: It’s a little like "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" if Stephen were a woman living at a time when women weren't allowed to be artists. Kaitlyn Greenidge: My book is about language, family and the reverberations of the past. Jon Methven: The immensity of the end—be it a career, or relationship, or faith, or mortgage, or life, or all of them—and then deciding to survive, no matter the obstacle. It’s a book about survival.  Karan Mahajan: Bombs. Without explaining why and without naming other authors or books, can you discuss the various influences on your book? Mahajan: Mahler. Max Richter. Americanos (the coffee, not the people). The Indian state of Uttar Pradesh. Bangalore. The Indian railway system. Dutton: Seventeenth-century garden design. The New Science. Men. Utopias. Wonder. Weather. Gossip. Maps. The Great Fire of London. Cristina, the (cross-dressing) Queen of Sweden. Seventeenth-century cookery and fashion. Greenidge: My book is influenced by the tragedy of the limits of language. Methven: A cross-country road trip, the 24-hour news cycle, cults, government surveillance, Armageddon, constant fundraisers, space colonization, marching bands. Without using complete sentences, can you describe what was going on in your life as you wrote this book? Methven: The birth of my sons, day job, an illness, Mars One, New York City, happiness. Dutton: Grad school. Adjuncting. First house. Baby. Full-time job. No sleep. Dorothy, a publishing project. Academic job market. Job. Second house. Greenidge: Trials, tribulations and my Saturn return. Mahajan: Turmoil. Revision. Restless switching between India and the U.S., between New York and Bangalore, between Austin and Delhi. Meditation. What are some words you despise that have been used to describe your writing by readers and/or reviewers? Greenidge: Readable, entertaining, accessible. I worked very hard to make the book all of those things but I think reviewers use those words sometimes to mean "dumb" or "not very serious" or "fluffy." No one has suggested that my book is dumb, far from it. But I find it disturbing that some critics of literary fiction look suspiciously on the desire to communicate with a reader. Mahajan: Apparently, the city of Delhi is a “character” in my novels. I’d argue that it’s a … city … in my novels. Dutton: I like words too much! I don’t blame the words. Methven: Overdone. Slapstick. Ugh. Painfully bad. The last was from an editor who opened a Yahoo! account, jmethvenwillneverwrite4XXX@yahoo.com, solely to send one email of how much he hated my writing. He promised he would never check the account so not to reply. If you could choose a career besides writing (irrespective of schooling requirements and/or talent) what would it be? Methven: I make excellent sandwiches. Yo-Yo Ma is to cellists as I am to processed meats. Just a small, quaint, out-of-the-way deli where people from around the world would come to photograph my sandwich sculptures. Greenidge: Secretary of education in the United States (provided I had unilateral powers and could work as a benevolent dictator). It is heartbreaking what sometimes happens to education in this country. Our greatest asset is the potential of free, quality, public education for all, regardless of race and class, and I think it should be protected and promoted at all costs. That sounds very authoritarian, but we live in extremist times, I guess. Mahajan: Urban planner. Dutton: I’d choose a job that wasn’t as solitary as writing. My entire girlhood I wanted to be an actress, but I think really I wanted to be part of a cast. Or maybe I just wanted to be the characters I loved. I wanted to be Jane Eyre. Or Antigone. Today I’m tired and cold, so I would like to be Lady Mary and live at Downton Abbey and have Anna come and warm my nightgown before the fire. What craft elements do you think are your strong suit, and what would you like to be better at? Mahajan: I’m good at description and imparting flow to a story, but I don’t necessarily understand the value of long scenes. Maybe I’d like to be more boring? Methven: I have a good imagination, so my ideas result in fun hooks for stories. I probably need work on dialogue, plot, setting, character, structure, etc. Dutton: I don't know if you'd call it craft, but one thing I like about my writing is that everything I write is totally different from everything else I write. One result is that I never get too expert at anything, and the thing I wanted to get better at changes all the time. Greenidge: I wish I was better at dialogue. Or rather, that it came more naturally to me. It always reads false, even in the fifth or sixth draft. I think I'm pretty good at writing a certain kind of first person. How do you contend with the hubris of thinking anyone has or should have any interest in what you have to say about anything? Greenidge: Ha, that is a pretty combative question, isn't it? I don't think anyone should have interest in what anyone has to say, per se. No one is waiting for your next great novel with bated breath. I don't write with that in mind: that someone should have to listen to me. I write mostly about things that interest me, that I find fascinating. I write toward things that I long to see in literature and that I feel are missing. I write in response to books that infuriate or enthrall me. I don't write with the belief that the world is waiting eagerly for me to inflict my opinions on it. Mahajan: I put my thoughts in a book, which must mean I don’t want anyone to read them. Dutton: Oh, the world is large. It contains multitudes. If there are people on the planet who care what Donald Trump says, why not people who care what I have to say? But also: I don’t think of a novel as something I’m saying about something. I think a novel is more complicated and magical than that. Methven: My first novel was about celebrity semen trafficking, so I’m not claiming to be a pundit on anything. There are so many great books and essays and websites, it’s an honor when anyone reads or writes about something I’ve written.For February, I posed a series of questions — with, as always, a few verbal restrictions — to four authors with new books: Danielle Dutton (“Margaret the First”), Kaitlyn Greenidge (“We Love You, Charlie Freeman”), Jon Methven (“Strange Boat”), Karan Mahajan (“The Association of Small Bombs”). Without summarizing it in any way, what would you say your book is about? Daniel Dutton: It’s a little like "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" if Stephen were a woman living at a time when women weren't allowed to be artists. Kaitlyn Greenidge: My book is about language, family and the reverberations of the past. Jon Methven: The immensity of the end—be it a career, or relationship, or faith, or mortgage, or life, or all of them—and then deciding to survive, no matter the obstacle. It’s a book about survival.  Karan Mahajan: Bombs. Without explaining why and without naming other authors or books, can you discuss the various influences on your book? Mahajan: Mahler. Max Richter. Americanos (the coffee, not the people). The Indian state of Uttar Pradesh. Bangalore. The Indian railway system. Dutton: Seventeenth-century garden design. The New Science. Men. Utopias. Wonder. Weather. Gossip. Maps. The Great Fire of London. Cristina, the (cross-dressing) Queen of Sweden. Seventeenth-century cookery and fashion. Greenidge: My book is influenced by the tragedy of the limits of language. Methven: A cross-country road trip, the 24-hour news cycle, cults, government surveillance, Armageddon, constant fundraisers, space colonization, marching bands. Without using complete sentences, can you describe what was going on in your life as you wrote this book? Methven: The birth of my sons, day job, an illness, Mars One, New York City, happiness. Dutton: Grad school. Adjuncting. First house. Baby. Full-time job. No sleep. Dorothy, a publishing project. Academic job market. Job. Second house. Greenidge: Trials, tribulations and my Saturn return. Mahajan: Turmoil. Revision. Restless switching between India and the U.S., between New York and Bangalore, between Austin and Delhi. Meditation. What are some words you despise that have been used to describe your writing by readers and/or reviewers? Greenidge: Readable, entertaining, accessible. I worked very hard to make the book all of those things but I think reviewers use those words sometimes to mean "dumb" or "not very serious" or "fluffy." No one has suggested that my book is dumb, far from it. But I find it disturbing that some critics of literary fiction look suspiciously on the desire to communicate with a reader. Mahajan: Apparently, the city of Delhi is a “character” in my novels. I’d argue that it’s a … city … in my novels. Dutton: I like words too much! I don’t blame the words. Methven: Overdone. Slapstick. Ugh. Painfully bad. The last was from an editor who opened a Yahoo! account, jmethvenwillneverwrite4XXX@yahoo.com, solely to send one email of how much he hated my writing. He promised he would never check the account so not to reply. If you could choose a career besides writing (irrespective of schooling requirements and/or talent) what would it be? Methven: I make excellent sandwiches. Yo-Yo Ma is to cellists as I am to processed meats. Just a small, quaint, out-of-the-way deli where people from around the world would come to photograph my sandwich sculptures. Greenidge: Secretary of education in the United States (provided I had unilateral powers and could work as a benevolent dictator). It is heartbreaking what sometimes happens to education in this country. Our greatest asset is the potential of free, quality, public education for all, regardless of race and class, and I think it should be protected and promoted at all costs. That sounds very authoritarian, but we live in extremist times, I guess. Mahajan: Urban planner. Dutton: I’d choose a job that wasn’t as solitary as writing. My entire girlhood I wanted to be an actress, but I think really I wanted to be part of a cast. Or maybe I just wanted to be the characters I loved. I wanted to be Jane Eyre. Or Antigone. Today I’m tired and cold, so I would like to be Lady Mary and live at Downton Abbey and have Anna come and warm my nightgown before the fire. What craft elements do you think are your strong suit, and what would you like to be better at? Mahajan: I’m good at description and imparting flow to a story, but I don’t necessarily understand the value of long scenes. Maybe I’d like to be more boring? Methven: I have a good imagination, so my ideas result in fun hooks for stories. I probably need work on dialogue, plot, setting, character, structure, etc. Dutton: I don't know if you'd call it craft, but one thing I like about my writing is that everything I write is totally different from everything else I write. One result is that I never get too expert at anything, and the thing I wanted to get better at changes all the time. Greenidge: I wish I was better at dialogue. Or rather, that it came more naturally to me. It always reads false, even in the fifth or sixth draft. I think I'm pretty good at writing a certain kind of first person. How do you contend with the hubris of thinking anyone has or should have any interest in what you have to say about anything? Greenidge: Ha, that is a pretty combative question, isn't it? I don't think anyone should have interest in what anyone has to say, per se. No one is waiting for your next great novel with bated breath. I don't write with that in mind: that someone should have to listen to me. I write mostly about things that interest me, that I find fascinating. I write toward things that I long to see in literature and that I feel are missing. I write in response to books that infuriate or enthrall me. I don't write with the belief that the world is waiting eagerly for me to inflict my opinions on it. Mahajan: I put my thoughts in a book, which must mean I don’t want anyone to read them. Dutton: Oh, the world is large. It contains multitudes. If there are people on the planet who care what Donald Trump says, why not people who care what I have to say? But also: I don’t think of a novel as something I’m saying about something. I think a novel is more complicated and magical than that. Methven: My first novel was about celebrity semen trafficking, so I’m not claiming to be a pundit on anything. There are so many great books and essays and websites, it’s an honor when anyone reads or writes about something I’ve written.

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Published on March 07, 2016 15:58

The “kiss of death”: One behavior, above all, can doom a relationship

AlterNet Being in a relationship is bound to make you feel many things, and not all of them good. But no matter how bad things get, experts advise against employing one particular behavior. John Gottman of the University of Washington says displays of contempt—like rolling your eyes at your partner or engaging in other sarcastic behaviors—can be toxic to relationships. Gottman, a renowned researcher on marital stability and divorce who is the founder of the Gottman Institute, refers to such behavior as “the kiss of death.” The idea isn’t entirely new. Back in 2002, Gottman and UC Berkeley psychologist Robert Levenson had just wrapped a 14-year study of 79 couples living across the Midwest. 21 of those marriages ended in divorce. The two researchers found contempt, criticism, defensiveness and stonewalling to be such central factors in the breakdown of these marriages they could be used to predict the likelihood of divorce with 93 percent accuracy. New research has provided further evidence for this being the case. In a study of 373 newlywed couples, those who yelled at one another, showed contempt and started disengaging from conflict within the first year of marriage were more likely to divorce, even after up to 16 years of being together. Conflict, of course, is inevitable, and a healthy relationship can withstand flareups of anger. According to Gottman, the real poison comes in the form of a superiority complex. Those who express contempt for their partner are far less likely to find validity in their partner’s claims. These people rarely make an effort to consider things from another's perspective, which makes arriving at compromise and understanding nearly impossible. When speaking with Business Insider, Gottman likened the situation to the flow of sound within a resonance chamber. Each person in the relationship functions as a source of his or her own musical—or emotional—vibrations. “If each partner is closed off to the other person's vibes (or emotions) and more interested in unleashing their own feelings of disgust and superiority, these negative vibrations will resound against one another, escalating a bad situation until something breaks," he explained. So if you find yourself rolling your eyes at your partner, try to catch it early. Making an effort to understand your partner's point of view will likely help improve the relationship along with your chances of staying together. h/t Business Insider  Carrie Weisman is an AlterNet staff writer who focuses on sex, relationships and culture. Got tips, ideas or a first-person story? Email her AlterNet Being in a relationship is bound to make you feel many things, and not all of them good. But no matter how bad things get, experts advise against employing one particular behavior. John Gottman of the University of Washington says displays of contempt—like rolling your eyes at your partner or engaging in other sarcastic behaviors—can be toxic to relationships. Gottman, a renowned researcher on marital stability and divorce who is the founder of the Gottman Institute, refers to such behavior as “the kiss of death.” The idea isn’t entirely new. Back in 2002, Gottman and UC Berkeley psychologist Robert Levenson had just wrapped a 14-year study of 79 couples living across the Midwest. 21 of those marriages ended in divorce. The two researchers found contempt, criticism, defensiveness and stonewalling to be such central factors in the breakdown of these marriages they could be used to predict the likelihood of divorce with 93 percent accuracy. New research has provided further evidence for this being the case. In a study of 373 newlywed couples, those who yelled at one another, showed contempt and started disengaging from conflict within the first year of marriage were more likely to divorce, even after up to 16 years of being together. Conflict, of course, is inevitable, and a healthy relationship can withstand flareups of anger. According to Gottman, the real poison comes in the form of a superiority complex. Those who express contempt for their partner are far less likely to find validity in their partner’s claims. These people rarely make an effort to consider things from another's perspective, which makes arriving at compromise and understanding nearly impossible. When speaking with Business Insider, Gottman likened the situation to the flow of sound within a resonance chamber. Each person in the relationship functions as a source of his or her own musical—or emotional—vibrations. “If each partner is closed off to the other person's vibes (or emotions) and more interested in unleashing their own feelings of disgust and superiority, these negative vibrations will resound against one another, escalating a bad situation until something breaks," he explained. So if you find yourself rolling your eyes at your partner, try to catch it early. Making an effort to understand your partner's point of view will likely help improve the relationship along with your chances of staying together. h/t Business Insider  Carrie Weisman is an AlterNet staff writer who focuses on sex, relationships and culture. Got tips, ideas or a first-person story? Email her

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Published on March 07, 2016 15:57

Michael Bloomberg says he won’t run for president, slams “divisive and demagogic” Trump campaign

In an essay titled "A Risk I Will Not Take" published on BloombergView, former New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg announced he will not run for president in 2016. Bloomberg, 74, decided against a third-party run out of fear he'd split the Democratic vote and hand the presidency to Donald Trump. "I love our country too much to play a role in electing a candidate who would weaken our unity and darken our future," he wrote. Bloomberg — who has a net worth of upwards of $37 billion — used the platform to give Trump a Romney-esque shellacking, saying, "he has run the most divisive and demagogic presidential campaign I can remember, preying on people’s prejudices and fears." "Threatening to bar foreign Muslims from entering the country is a direct assault on two of the core values that gave rise to our nation: religious tolerance and the separation of church and state," Bloomberg continued. "Attacking and promising to deport millions of Mexicans, feigning ignorance of white supremacists, and threatening China and Japan with a trade war are all dangerously wrong, too." Read the full essay at BloombergView.

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Published on March 07, 2016 14:37

March 6, 2016

Script to Screen

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Published on March 06, 2016 21:40

The Democrats are about to blow it: This election is about new millennials, not aging baby boomers

“This campaign is about a political revolution,” Bernie Sanders says on the campaign trail, “to not only elect the president, but to transform this country.” Hillary Clinton replies that that’s a pipe dream and points to how hard it is to make even incremental progress against an intransigent Republican Congress. But while Clinton has good reasons for this rejoinder, she may be misreading the political landscape, and would do better politically by stealing Bernie Sanders’ ideas. Both numbers and recent history show that if the next president paints a big enough vision on the campaign trail, he or she could become as influential as Ronald Reagan. Here’s how. The politics of selfishness In 1978, Stanford Research Institute was charting the effect that the baby boomers were having on American society. Businesses were struggling to market to a generation that cared less about status and more about personal expression. This was the Me Decade, obsessed with human potential and self-actualization, and in California, Ronald Reagan was watching this change firsthand. Arnold Mitchell and his colleagues at SRI hit on a new market research method to get a handle on what was going on, which they called VALS, for Values and LifeStyle. Instead of using traditional demographics, they targeted people psychographically, based in significant part on Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, which put self-actualization at the pinnacle of human experience. The research found something stunning: There was a large and growing group that hadn’t been understood before, which they called the Inner Directeds. These people cut across traditional demographic lines, and what they had in common was their desire to live life on their own terms. Reagan took advantage of this group in the 1980 election. Boomers hated government and had railed against it since the Vietnam War. “Government is not the solution to our problem,” Reagan told them, “government is the problem.” You shouldn’t have to conform to government mandates, you should be free. Instead, Reagan put business at the center of American culture. It was business, he argued, that could best fulfill the needs of the individual, efficiently, cheaply, and with great abundance and variety, helping them to express themselves and their uniqueness. The consumer was king. Boomers responded by voting for Reagan in huge numbers, in both the 18-26 and 27-38 age brackets. The sudden loss of young voters rocked the Democratic party to its core. In 1992, Bill Clinton was the first candidate to use massive focus group testing to assess boomer attitudes, and to make a values sell based on individual fulfillment, instead of the old-style democratic politics of appealing to voters’ common interests. Government was a service to the individual, like business. Voters were passive consumers of politics, instead of active participants in it. Clinton crafted his message to fit exactly what the focus groups said suburban swing voters wanted, and promised tax cuts. “Government is in the way,” he told the Democratic National Convention. “It’s taking more of your money and giving you less in return.” But once in office, Clinton found the deficit was much larger than expected and he’d have to make deep cuts to social programs, so he dropped the tax cut proposal. This angered the inner-directed, anti-government suburban boomers Clinton had used to build a coalition in the campaign. When he proposed what became Hillarycare in 1993—which was about shared interests—they revolted. Disunited Democrats threw up several competing proposals, effectively killing it, and in 1994 voters turned Congress red, throwing Clinton’s presidency into jeopardy. To win reelection against this intense Republican surge, Clinton turned to values and lifestyle targeting data similar to that developed by SRI. “The era of big government is over,” he told voters in his 1996 State of the Union address. He hired Dick Morris and Mark Penn, who overlaid lifestyle data on swing voters to figure out how to identify and message to them on a granular level that reinforced his affinity with them. It was like rock climbing: one piton stake at a time. Under Morris and Penn’s direction, Clinton crafted his message, his public appearances and his policies to what the data suggested, to build a new psychological coalition that cut across ideological and demographic boundaries, and it worked. He won reelection, but he needed a sacrifice. He chose to end Roosevelt’s welfare program, exchanging it for a more Republican “welfare to work” plan, proving that “the era of big government” was indeed over. The president, and the party he led, had learned how to win in an era of self-obsession. They had won the battle but lost the philosophical war. By targeting the self-interest of voters, the Democratic Party became captive to a consumer approach to marketing politics that was playing within the Republicans’ framing. Considering the selfish focus of boomer culture, it may be that this strategy was necessary, as was the constant polling on policy measures during the second Clinton term, and Clinton and Morris would no doubt argue this. But as long as the president and the Democratic Party operated within such reactive political framing, with no appeal to imagination or a larger vision than self-interest, it would also move the country further and further away from the common interest values that the political left stood for. It was also based on an unexamined assumption: that self-interest is indeed the paramount political frame, instead of simply being one of many possible frames. The resulting focus on self-fulfillment at the expense of shared interests radically transformed government and American political and economic thought in the decades since. It’s a different economy, stupid We now know from science that self-fulfillment is not the only frame; in fact it is something of a mirage. Once basic needs are met, at a financial level of around $76,000, more money doesn’t make people happier. Like a carrot on a stick, one can chase self-fulfillment forever and still find it’s not quite within reach. Building a politics on this mirage drives the country ever rightward. When combined with international trade agreements designed to give individuals cheaper goods (which polls well on a granular level) and the attendant rise of globalization ushered in by Clinton, the pursuit of this mirage led to unprecedented corporate power, destruction of the middle class, and environmental disasters that are providing the fuel for Bernie Sanders’ campaign and his call for a political revolution. This is a philosophical struggle for the hearts and minds of the Democratic Party. Considering Bill Clinton’s campaign’s strategic approach and what seems to have become an underlying philosophy, one can begin to understand the challenges Hillary Clinton is facing now that the landscape is changing. After a career in the political cross hairs, focus-testing messages against self-obsessed individuals with short-term horizons in order to eke out small gains from an intransigent opposition, Sanders’ talk of a political revolution must seem laughably naive. But one can also see why this approach, and the underlying assumptions of the market-driven self-gratifying, short-term consumer culture that inform it, is posing major challenges to the old Clinton paradigm, and why Hillary needs a new approach if she is to truly seize the potential that is there in the electorate. Because it’s a different economy, stupid, something Sanders seems to recognize more intuitively than Clinton. As during the rise of Reagan, there is a huge, generational demographic shift underway, and it is also a psychographic one. The oldest boomers were 34 in 1980. The oldest millennials are 39 in 2016. While boomers have been self-absorbed and anti-government since the '60s, their children are growing up in a world where it is corporate power that is run amok, it is corporate power that has become corrupt, it is corporate power that is limiting their possibilities, and it is corporate power and the attendant income, infrastructure and environmental inequality, and its government enablers, that are the new political battlegrounds. A new, powerful coalition Mounting evidence shows that because of millennials’ ties through social media, younger voters do not think of themselves in the same radically self-obsessed, anti-government and entitled consumer ways their boomer parents did. Instead, they tend to see themselves as empowered but also a part of a collective, a social fabric, individual but cooperative, and because of this they value tolerance and equality. Most boomers were anxious to establish their independence; the data show millennials are not. Already the 20-44 population demographic is 8 percent larger than the 45-69 demo, it is significantly less self-focused, it sees the problems differently, indeed the problems are different, and reactive, self-focused politics are no longer necessarily the best way forward. And that means there is, lying there, waiting to be fully awakened, a new, powerful coalition that can reshape American politics by focusing on the common good, while respecting the rights of the individual. Not an either/or, a both/and. A new holistic politics where our shared interests unite us together. This is Clinton’s biggest danger and biggest opportunity: that she stands on the cusp and may not fully embrace its changing values, and so let the opportunity slip by. Looking back at the video footage of 25 years ago, one can see see a beautiful, brilliant, driven Hillary Clinton, fighting to eke out even gains in a culture of economic, political, psychological and social selfishness with a strong Republican current flowing against her. And yet she had the idealism to make that fight then. But Clinton may forever be a woman out of step with her time: once too idealistic and now too strategic. Consider the messaging of Texas congressman Chris Bell, who told the Dallas Morning News that:
“I completely understand youthful idealism; I had plenty of it. And I certainly understand the anger that has turned many Sanders’ way. But idealism and anger are not going to change our state; that is only going to happen when Democrats once again become competitive statewide. Along with a lot of others, I am so tired of toiling in the trenches for the Democratic Party and then watching as we form a circular firing squad. We need to seize this opportunity we’ve been handed. We need to be relevant once again.”
Bell’s thinking is similar to the Clinton strategy of the 1990s: It contains the implicit assumption that the electorate is to the right. But it also shows the thinking of all the Democrats who proposed alternate plans to Hillarycare, dooming it to failure. What it misses is that one doesn’t have to message within the self-focused paradigm. Given imagination and leadership coupled with the current demographics and psychographics, the fabric of political space-time itself can be altered. The numbers suggest that the same voters that deliver the presidency could also deliver the Senate. That is an argument for what Sanders is trying to do, and an explanation of why he is gaining grass-roots momentum against the favorite of party leaders with ties back to Bill Clinton’s presidency: He is presenting a philosophical alternative that refuses to play in the Republican message box. Sanders, on the other hand, may have an upper ceiling unless he can make an argument that is both philosophical and strategic, showing Democratic leaders like Bell how they can win. If he can, we could see the Clinton coalition begin to crumble because its foundation is more strategic than philosophical. Either candidate can thus benefit from making the other’s argument, because what the time calls for is a strategic approach to a philosophical change, as Sanders correctly identifies: not just winning the White House, winning the hearts of the electorate. Whoever does it first and most wholeheartedly could run away with the prize. Americans are undergoing a seismic shift in the political landscape, one that would seem to favor Democrats, but they may hand it away by refusing to unify and boldly grasp it. The numbers show that the time for the sort of bold, visionary appeal to the shared interests of society is finally arriving. If Democrats can capture it, they could elect an epochal president, one that has the power to redefine the argument as Reagan did, for the next 35 years.“This campaign is about a political revolution,” Bernie Sanders says on the campaign trail, “to not only elect the president, but to transform this country.” Hillary Clinton replies that that’s a pipe dream and points to how hard it is to make even incremental progress against an intransigent Republican Congress. But while Clinton has good reasons for this rejoinder, she may be misreading the political landscape, and would do better politically by stealing Bernie Sanders’ ideas. Both numbers and recent history show that if the next president paints a big enough vision on the campaign trail, he or she could become as influential as Ronald Reagan. Here’s how. The politics of selfishness In 1978, Stanford Research Institute was charting the effect that the baby boomers were having on American society. Businesses were struggling to market to a generation that cared less about status and more about personal expression. This was the Me Decade, obsessed with human potential and self-actualization, and in California, Ronald Reagan was watching this change firsthand. Arnold Mitchell and his colleagues at SRI hit on a new market research method to get a handle on what was going on, which they called VALS, for Values and LifeStyle. Instead of using traditional demographics, they targeted people psychographically, based in significant part on Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, which put self-actualization at the pinnacle of human experience. The research found something stunning: There was a large and growing group that hadn’t been understood before, which they called the Inner Directeds. These people cut across traditional demographic lines, and what they had in common was their desire to live life on their own terms. Reagan took advantage of this group in the 1980 election. Boomers hated government and had railed against it since the Vietnam War. “Government is not the solution to our problem,” Reagan told them, “government is the problem.” You shouldn’t have to conform to government mandates, you should be free. Instead, Reagan put business at the center of American culture. It was business, he argued, that could best fulfill the needs of the individual, efficiently, cheaply, and with great abundance and variety, helping them to express themselves and their uniqueness. The consumer was king. Boomers responded by voting for Reagan in huge numbers, in both the 18-26 and 27-38 age brackets. The sudden loss of young voters rocked the Democratic party to its core. In 1992, Bill Clinton was the first candidate to use massive focus group testing to assess boomer attitudes, and to make a values sell based on individual fulfillment, instead of the old-style democratic politics of appealing to voters’ common interests. Government was a service to the individual, like business. Voters were passive consumers of politics, instead of active participants in it. Clinton crafted his message to fit exactly what the focus groups said suburban swing voters wanted, and promised tax cuts. “Government is in the way,” he told the Democratic National Convention. “It’s taking more of your money and giving you less in return.” But once in office, Clinton found the deficit was much larger than expected and he’d have to make deep cuts to social programs, so he dropped the tax cut proposal. This angered the inner-directed, anti-government suburban boomers Clinton had used to build a coalition in the campaign. When he proposed what became Hillarycare in 1993—which was about shared interests—they revolted. Disunited Democrats threw up several competing proposals, effectively killing it, and in 1994 voters turned Congress red, throwing Clinton’s presidency into jeopardy. To win reelection against this intense Republican surge, Clinton turned to values and lifestyle targeting data similar to that developed by SRI. “The era of big government is over,” he told voters in his 1996 State of the Union address. He hired Dick Morris and Mark Penn, who overlaid lifestyle data on swing voters to figure out how to identify and message to them on a granular level that reinforced his affinity with them. It was like rock climbing: one piton stake at a time. Under Morris and Penn’s direction, Clinton crafted his message, his public appearances and his policies to what the data suggested, to build a new psychological coalition that cut across ideological and demographic boundaries, and it worked. He won reelection, but he needed a sacrifice. He chose to end Roosevelt’s welfare program, exchanging it for a more Republican “welfare to work” plan, proving that “the era of big government” was indeed over. The president, and the party he led, had learned how to win in an era of self-obsession. They had won the battle but lost the philosophical war. By targeting the self-interest of voters, the Democratic Party became captive to a consumer approach to marketing politics that was playing within the Republicans’ framing. Considering the selfish focus of boomer culture, it may be that this strategy was necessary, as was the constant polling on policy measures during the second Clinton term, and Clinton and Morris would no doubt argue this. But as long as the president and the Democratic Party operated within such reactive political framing, with no appeal to imagination or a larger vision than self-interest, it would also move the country further and further away from the common interest values that the political left stood for. It was also based on an unexamined assumption: that self-interest is indeed the paramount political frame, instead of simply being one of many possible frames. The resulting focus on self-fulfillment at the expense of shared interests radically transformed government and American political and economic thought in the decades since. It’s a different economy, stupid We now know from science that self-fulfillment is not the only frame; in fact it is something of a mirage. Once basic needs are met, at a financial level of around $76,000, more money doesn’t make people happier. Like a carrot on a stick, one can chase self-fulfillment forever and still find it’s not quite within reach. Building a politics on this mirage drives the country ever rightward. When combined with international trade agreements designed to give individuals cheaper goods (which polls well on a granular level) and the attendant rise of globalization ushered in by Clinton, the pursuit of this mirage led to unprecedented corporate power, destruction of the middle class, and environmental disasters that are providing the fuel for Bernie Sanders’ campaign and his call for a political revolution. This is a philosophical struggle for the hearts and minds of the Democratic Party. Considering Bill Clinton’s campaign’s strategic approach and what seems to have become an underlying philosophy, one can begin to understand the challenges Hillary Clinton is facing now that the landscape is changing. After a career in the political cross hairs, focus-testing messages against self-obsessed individuals with short-term horizons in order to eke out small gains from an intransigent opposition, Sanders’ talk of a political revolution must seem laughably naive. But one can also see why this approach, and the underlying assumptions of the market-driven self-gratifying, short-term consumer culture that inform it, is posing major challenges to the old Clinton paradigm, and why Hillary needs a new approach if she is to truly seize the potential that is there in the electorate. Because it’s a different economy, stupid, something Sanders seems to recognize more intuitively than Clinton. As during the rise of Reagan, there is a huge, generational demographic shift underway, and it is also a psychographic one. The oldest boomers were 34 in 1980. The oldest millennials are 39 in 2016. While boomers have been self-absorbed and anti-government since the '60s, their children are growing up in a world where it is corporate power that is run amok, it is corporate power that has become corrupt, it is corporate power that is limiting their possibilities, and it is corporate power and the attendant income, infrastructure and environmental inequality, and its government enablers, that are the new political battlegrounds. A new, powerful coalition Mounting evidence shows that because of millennials’ ties through social media, younger voters do not think of themselves in the same radically self-obsessed, anti-government and entitled consumer ways their boomer parents did. Instead, they tend to see themselves as empowered but also a part of a collective, a social fabric, individual but cooperative, and because of this they value tolerance and equality. Most boomers were anxious to establish their independence; the data show millennials are not. Already the 20-44 population demographic is 8 percent larger than the 45-69 demo, it is significantly less self-focused, it sees the problems differently, indeed the problems are different, and reactive, self-focused politics are no longer necessarily the best way forward. And that means there is, lying there, waiting to be fully awakened, a new, powerful coalition that can reshape American politics by focusing on the common good, while respecting the rights of the individual. Not an either/or, a both/and. A new holistic politics where our shared interests unite us together. This is Clinton’s biggest danger and biggest opportunity: that she stands on the cusp and may not fully embrace its changing values, and so let the opportunity slip by. Looking back at the video footage of 25 years ago, one can see see a beautiful, brilliant, driven Hillary Clinton, fighting to eke out even gains in a culture of economic, political, psychological and social selfishness with a strong Republican current flowing against her. And yet she had the idealism to make that fight then. But Clinton may forever be a woman out of step with her time: once too idealistic and now too strategic. Consider the messaging of Texas congressman Chris Bell, who told the Dallas Morning News that:
“I completely understand youthful idealism; I had plenty of it. And I certainly understand the anger that has turned many Sanders’ way. But idealism and anger are not going to change our state; that is only going to happen when Democrats once again become competitive statewide. Along with a lot of others, I am so tired of toiling in the trenches for the Democratic Party and then watching as we form a circular firing squad. We need to seize this opportunity we’ve been handed. We need to be relevant once again.”
Bell’s thinking is similar to the Clinton strategy of the 1990s: It contains the implicit assumption that the electorate is to the right. But it also shows the thinking of all the Democrats who proposed alternate plans to Hillarycare, dooming it to failure. What it misses is that one doesn’t have to message within the self-focused paradigm. Given imagination and leadership coupled with the current demographics and psychographics, the fabric of political space-time itself can be altered. The numbers suggest that the same voters that deliver the presidency could also deliver the Senate. That is an argument for what Sanders is trying to do, and an explanation of why he is gaining grass-roots momentum against the favorite of party leaders with ties back to Bill Clinton’s presidency: He is presenting a philosophical alternative that refuses to play in the Republican message box. Sanders, on the other hand, may have an upper ceiling unless he can make an argument that is both philosophical and strategic, showing Democratic leaders like Bell how they can win. If he can, we could see the Clinton coalition begin to crumble because its foundation is more strategic than philosophical. Either candidate can thus benefit from making the other’s argument, because what the time calls for is a strategic approach to a philosophical change, as Sanders correctly identifies: not just winning the White House, winning the hearts of the electorate. Whoever does it first and most wholeheartedly could run away with the prize. Americans are undergoing a seismic shift in the political landscape, one that would seem to favor Democrats, but they may hand it away by refusing to unify and boldly grasp it. The numbers show that the time for the sort of bold, visionary appeal to the shared interests of society is finally arriving. If Democrats can capture it, they could elect an epochal president, one that has the power to redefine the argument as Reagan did, for the next 35 years.

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Published on March 06, 2016 16:30

Stripping and Starbucks — when corporations take over desire

My regular is an elegantly dressed gentleman in his mid-50s, slightly overweight in a way that calls out for the word “portly.” He is soft-spoken and a little dull, but he pays me to listen—two or three nights a week, he comes to the club and buys me drinks and tells me his troubles, but never demands a dance. He likes me, he says, because I am “classy”—in fact, he tells me, I’m too classy for this place. I look around Backstage Bill’s: Smoke hangs languidly in the air, untroubled by air conditioning or filtering machines; 1970s-style wood paneling lines the walls; AC/DC throbs from the sound system; customers wearing T-shirts and baseball hats beckon dancers who wear neon string-bras and thongs. It’s a dive bar, just one that happens to have a lot of half-naked women in it.

He recommends that I audition for Diamonds, another club he frequents, about 45 minutes away. Backstage Bill’s is owned by three unlikely friends: a cop, a Hell’s Angel and a rarely seen, extremely well-groomed man said to be a member of the local Mafia. Diamonds, however, is part of a regional chain and thus more smoothly run. So the following week I drive to Hartford, finding the club on a desolate service road adjacent to the highway. It’s early in the evening, and the few customers in attendance wear button-down shirts and pressed slacks, some even sporting ties. The enormous circular bar sits at the center of the main room, its chrome bar rail reflecting the cool grays that comprise the club’s color scheme. Several dancers share the stage, moving gently as if being blown by a warm breeze. Their costumes look like what I see the undergrads wearing as they shiver outside dance clubs in New Haven: crop tops, strapless mini-dresses and hot pants. A large man in a suit asks if he can help me, and directs me to the manager’s office. The office is organized and clean, and conspicuously lacking posters of porn stars. The manager looks me up and down and then does something shocking: he asks for my ID. For their records. I realize I am in a new realm of corporate accountability.

Once I began dancing at Diamonds, I realized that while Backstage Bill’s was a strip club, Diamonds was a brand. I had started stripping while I was finishing my dissertation far from my home institution and possible teaching assistantships. By day, I wrote about dance as a means of social activism; at night I danced as a means of paying the rent. After several years performing in often avant-garde dance companies, I was used to taking off my clothes for art, but had never imagined doing so for money. But multiple part-time teaching gigs weren’t paying the bills, and when I saw an ad for exotic dance lessons I figured I had little to lose. Soon enough I found myself dancing at Backstage Bill’s, where I joined a diverse group of colleagues: there were dancers from all over the world, dancers over 40, dancers who were tiny, dancers who were tall, dancers who were skinny, dancers who were fat. Some dancers had graduate degrees; some had never attended high school; many lived from night to night, staying in motels because they couldn’t save enough money for a deposit and first-month’s rent. It often seemed to me that the dancers at Backstage Bill’s could have been put on a poster for multiculturalism.

This diversity and eccentricity was reflected in the choreography and the performance qualities that unfolded onstage. Foxy, a statuesque African-American woman who favored 1970s catsuits and glorious wigs, strutted across the stage like John Travolta in "Saturday Night Fever"; Marissa, a willowy young dancer from Ukraine, levitated upside-down around the pole with ease; Summer, big, bouncy and blond, bantered with customers while doing the splits, jokily castigating them if they didn’t tip her well enough. For some dancers, stripping meant bumping and grinding; but for others, it meant flirting, or laughter, or a display of their own erotic pleasure.

After filling out my paperwork at Diamonds (something Backstage Bill’s would never have tolerated), my “audition” consisted of removing the costume that I had carefully chosen for the occasion— I didn’t have to dance at all. Somehow I was hired, despite being 10 years older and 20 pounds heavier than the vast majority of the other dancers. And there were a lot of other dancers: while Backstage Bill’s might have had 15 dancers working at one time, Diamonds often had 60 or more, all of whom looked very much alike. With few exceptions, the dancers at Diamonds were 18 to 24 years old, white, thin and fit but not athletically so, with straight shoulder length blond or light brown hair. Management dictated what we could wear, how we should talk to customers, and how we should dance: no pelvic thrusts, no shimmies, no bumping and grinding. We think of striptease as being about sex, but at Diamonds sex was stand-in for consumption. Unlike the raw sexuality of much of the movement at Backstage Bill’s, the dancing at Diamonds catered to a capitalist fantasy of delightfully clean, uniform women who could be purchased and consumed.

The difference between the two clubs was exemplified by Diamonds' ritual of selling calendars on weekend shifts: five times a night the DJ would play Mötley Crüe’s “Girls, Girls, Girls,” a signal to all the dancers, no matter where we were or what we were in the middle of, to drop everything and rush to the dressing room. There we were given copies of the club’s current calendar, which we were meant to hawk to the customers. We were lined up and paraded swiftly across the stage as if in a beauty pageant, and then forced to swarm into the audience trying to sell a package deal of a calendar and a lap dance for $25. If we were lucky enough to convince someone to take this deal, we had to turn $15 over to the manager for the calendar, thus being paid half the usual rate for the dance. As dancers, we were as packaged and standardized and managed as the shrink-wrapped calendars we were pushing on our customers.

Striptease embodies an ongoing debate about the power of corporations and brands to infiltrate every facet of our cultural and personal lives. In the past two decades, the striptease industry has transformed from mom-and-pop clubs perceived as seamy dens of illicit desire to multinational corporate chains that project an aura of wholesome, middle-class good fun. Exotic dance has become a global commodity, stripped of its potential to express subversive desires—erotic and otherwise. At Diamonds and other corporate strip clubs, dancers and customers alike perform a demographically designated brand that shapes desire in much the same way that Starbucks inculcated a taste for frothy espresso drinks. Every time I donned a hot pink dress I had bought at the mall or eschewed floor work for yet another strut around the pole, I lived and moved its upper-middle-class, middle-brow, white, “lite” brand of sexuality, one which seemed all too appropriate to its location on the outskirts of a city that had once been touted as the insurance capital of the world. Stripping allowed me to move in new ways, to embody new and sometimes uncomfortable ideas about myself as both a desiring subject and object of desire. Performing this kind of dance, and having my performances appreciated by customers, changed the way I felt about my body: always considered “voluptuous” (a frequently deployed euphemism in the dance world for “fat”) in the realm of contemporary dance, the excesses of my body were valued in striptease, and I grew to value them too. But there was something almost uncannily familiar from other service jobs in stripping at Diamonds: subject to management directives, costumes became uniforms; improvisations became routines; conversations became scripts. I began to resent the club and the customers, and to commit small acts of resistance: I wore five-inch heels rather than the regulation six; showed up late with long fake excuses, delivered with “real” tears, just to see if I could act well enough to avoid the fine; dressed in bizarre, bondage-ish costumes that I knew no one at the club would like. Finally, I did something that I knew would mean I could never return: I pocketed the $15 I earned on a calendar sale and lied to the house manager, telling him, straight faced, that of course I had given him the calendar back as usual. With sixty girls working the shift, I knew there was a chance he wouldn’t catch me, but I also knew that he thought that strippers were lying thieves in any case—and that now I had become one. It was time to go.

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Published on March 06, 2016 16:29