A Review of Requiem for the American Dream

I recently watched Noam Chomsky’s Requiem for the American Dream. In true Chomsky fashion, the film dismantles the mechanisms of our capitalist society, illustrating clearly exactly how the current economic system serves to keep the rich rich and the poor poor. Some of the ideas in the film are typical Chomsky, but in a world where inequality is a political buzzword, the film could not be any timelier.

For those who aren’t familiar with his work, Noam Chomsky is often regarded as one of the greatest intellectuals of our time. Originally a linguist, he has written over a hundred books in a broad range of fields including history, politics, and philosophy. Chomsky’s views are not for everyone (he is very much a socialist and an anarchist), but even his critics cannot argue against the fact that he is one of the greatest minds of the twentieth century.

In Requiem for the American Dream, Chomsky illustrates the “10 Principles of Concentration of Wealth and Power,” including rules like “Run the Regulators,” “Attack Solidarity,” and “Manufacture Consent.” It is through these methods, Chomsky argues, that America’s so called “one percenters” maintain their own exclusive place among the economic stratosphere. By running the government and manipulating the masses, big business continually marginalizes the working class. Chomsky illustrates here why the American Dream is truly just that: a dream.

The timing of this film is especially fitting, given the current state of American economics and politics. Inequality is at an all-time high, with even the IMF admitting the failure of neoliberalism, breeding a political climate in which candidates like Bernie Sanders and Donald Trump can ride the wave of frustration on both ends of the political spectrum. The increasing polarization of politics is not limited to the United States (as we can see from events like Brexit, or the increasing popularity of nationalist parties); however, as the capitalist standard bearer and the cultural heart of the western world, this phenomenon is, unsurprisingly, most visible in America.

With all this in mind, Chomsky’s diagnosis seems all the more poignant. For those acquainted with Chomsky’s work (a claim that I can only partially make), the film will seem familiar. It’s the classic critique of capitalism laid out in fairly simplistic terms.

It’s this simplicity that makes the film so effective. If one wants an in depth analysis of the problems with capitalism, one reads in-depth works of economic and political theory by Chomsky and others. A seventy minute documentary makes the arguments appealing to a lay audience for whom it is not necessary to understand the intricacies of microeconomics. Indeed, I’d count myself closer to this audience.

The filmmakers do an excellent job of accompanying Chomsky’s analysis with effective and poignant imagery. Chomsky’s words are interspersed with shots of Wall Street juxtaposed against images of the homeless and countless other representations of economic inequality.

One scene in particular stuck with me long after the film ended. When discussing the principle of “Manufacturing Consent,” Chomsky highlights the engineering of society to prioritize material wealth so as to discourage meaningful thought. Accompanying this analysis, we see a shot of perhaps the most appropriate symbol of consumerism, Walmart, overplayed by the words: “A group of teenagers with a free afternoon will go to the shopping mall rather than the library.”

I found this point in the film particularly haunting. By looking around on any given day, one can see the prominence of rampant consumerism. As a society, we, in general, have prioritized frivolous materialism above all else.

As an example, just look at the recent prominence of Pokémon Go. Sure, many of today’s youth are getting outdoors more than ever before. But what is the point of going outside if we never look up from our phones? A plugged in population is far more likely to consent. By focussing on such, ultimately, trivial things (video games, the newest smartphone, or other material possessions), our attention is taken away from meaningful causes. Consumerism, as Chomsky puts it, has become the measure of a good life.

Requiem for the American Dream is filled with such poignant moments, and I hope it will encourage some people to reflect on their lives and their role in society. I don’t hold myself above anyone – I realize I am just as complicit in the system as all those around me. However, I believe it is important for people to think critically and consider their own role in society, something I continually attempt to do.

The film isn’t perfect. It isn’t ground breaking by any means. It relies highly on rhetoric, and recycles some old criticisms of capitalism. But it is this simplicity that makes it accessible for the average viewer. I would highly recommend that everyone go watch it. The film is only seventy minutes long and available on Netflix, so put it on in the background while you’re doing homework or chores. You never know. It might change your perspective a little.

7/10

Published Work

So for everyone who is interested in reading my creative writing, I recently had my first piece published (by an actual magazine, not just my blog!). This is a personal essay I originally wrote for a creative nonfiction class that I decided to submit for publication in Beautiful Minds Magazine. The piece is an incredibly personal recounting of my struggles with mental health, depicting a particularly dark moment. It was quite difficult to write about, and even more difficult to share.

You can read the piece here:
https://beautifulmindsmagazine.org/2016/07/17/i-cannot-repair/

Let me know what you think! I also want to take this moment to say that I really appreciate everyone who takes the time to read these rambling thoughts I write down. I do harbor dreams of someday making a living as a writer, so it's quite encouraging to know that people are interested in reading what I have to say. I appreciate the support.

As always, thank you for reading.

Cam

Standing up to Intolerance

I recently got into an argument on Facebook.

Yes, I know: pointless, right?

Actually, no. I’m going to suggest that arguing on Facebook is not pointless, at least in some circumstances.

The argument in question began with a response I made to a misquotation of Vladimir Putin shared by this particular person. The quote in question suggested that “minorities need the state but the state does not need minorities,” but after a little research I found that Putin never actually said the statement in question (though he has echoed similar sentiments at other times). The page that originally posted the quote was an American far right group.

Ah, the irony.

Usually I refrain from commenting on such things, as I do not think Facebook or any other social media is the medium for an informed debate. With my comment, I did not intend to change this person’s mind. I think this is a mistake people often make. I am not one to shy away from debates and arguments, particularly about certain subjects, and many people take this readiness as a constant desire to change the opinions of those I disagree with. This is not my intention. While I may not agree with certain views, I respect the right to hold them.

My intention is to foster conversation. I wish to understand why people hold their views and, moreover, I wish for them to understand why they hold their views. I understand that I am young, and I find that many dismiss my opinions out of hand as brash or naïve. In some cases, they are even correct. However, I have thought long and hard about most of my beliefs, and there are concrete reasons why I argue certain ones so vehemently. When I argue them, my goal is to challenge people to question their own biases, even if I do not change their stance.

So, back to the argument at hand. I made a comment on the original post pointing out the apparent nonexistence of the exact quote and the irony of a heavily right wing page quoting modern Russia’s throwback to the Soviet Union. The conversation quickly spiralled out of control expanding from the original issue of “minorities” to cover Islam, Sharia Law, immigration, and what exactly constitutes “racism.”

At times, the debate became somewhat heated. It didn’t exactly end well.

The next day, people asked me why I bothered to argue, especially over Facebook. Some people found it amusing and laughed at the two of us. Mutual friends would tell me that’s “just how she is,” and that I was “wasting my time.”

Sorry, but that is bullshit.

I’m not naïve enough to believe I will change the opinion of this person, or anyone else I might argue with, over the internet or otherwise. As I said earlier, I debate to make people think. Not just the person I am arguing with, but also the people who may be watching.

It’s easy, particularly on the internet, to sit back and ignore things that have no direct effect on us. We might not agree with certain opinions (racist or otherwise), but to actively argue against them takes a lot of effort and causes a lot of unnecessary friction. Best just to remain silent.

I dispute that notion.

Silence desensitizes us. When we remain silent, we are accepting their behaviour in our own mind. If we constantly see bigotry and do nothing but shake our heads and sigh, even that response becomes too much effort. Next, we don’t even notice the bigotry, and soon we are complying without even a thought of opposing, often actively engaging in it without realizing.

This is history and psychology. How do you think Hitler was so successful at getting an entire country to ignore the atrocities he committed?

Silence is acceptance. When one hears a bigoted remark and says nothing, the bigots are told that hatred and intolerance are socially acceptable attitudes. Do these people have a right to hold their beliefs? Yes. Freedom of speech and freedom of thought are the cornerstone of all democracy. But having the right to a belief does not make it right. This is why it is crucial that we rally to dispute intolerant opinions: every time we remain silent, those voices become that much louder.

I’ve found that social media perpetuates this phenomenon. When information is easily packaged within a few lines of text with a flashy image next to it, few people go to the effort of fact checking or disputing negative opinions. The internet appeals to quick and easy answers, with little effort or thought.

Which brings me back to my original point: why I stand up against bigotry and intolerance even if I know I am never going to change the mind of the person I’m arguing with. Simply put, I don’t want to be another person who accepts that which I know is wrong. I want people to see me arguing, and see that opinions of ignorance and intolerance are not acceptable. It’s through silence and capitulation that we end up with Presidential candidates like Donald Trump, or geopolitical disasters such as Brexit.

Standing up for my beliefs isn’t easy. Often, I feel like I’m standing alone against a roomful of individuals. As a liberal living in Alberta, I often am.

But the issues I am talking about are not everyday politics, though we might like to think they are. I am not talking about taxes or fiscal policy, or even whether the government has the right to spy on us and monitor our communications.

I’m discussing issues that are, fundamentally, about human rights. I’m discussing discrimination based on race, sexuality, or countless other such excuses. All too often, many of us have a tendency to lump these issues into the humdrum of everyday politics, tying stances to political parties and speaking in abstractions. We forget that the discussion is about real people, many of whom have their very lives at stake.

I have no experience as the victim of discrimination. I do not understand what it is like to be profiled, judged, and hated based on the colour of my skin; I have never been forced to hold my tongue about my religious beliefs for fear of verbal or physical abuse. Many people are not so lucky.

The way I see it, that makes it all the more important that I stand up to intolerance. Yes, my life would be easier if I stood by quietly, shaking my head and doing little more. But the victims of discrimination, the people whose lives are destroyed by bigotry and intolerance, have no choice in the matter. Why should I have the option to remain silent?

We are all human. We all deserve a chance. I just happened to luck out as to which arbitrary borders I was born in and which particular pigments colour my skin. The same goes for just about anyone reading this piece. It is our responsibility to stand with those who don’t have the luxury of choosing their battles.

To those of you who tell me I shouldn’t bother arguing because “that’s just how they are,” I say no. As long as I see people supporting opinions that actively encourage discrimination and inequality, I will not stand idle. I will not sit silently when real people with real lives are at stake. If I can encourage even one person to reflect on their own views and maybe, just maybe, encourage them to stand with me, I will consider myself successful.

As always, thanks for reading!

Black Lives Matter because All Lives Matter

If a house is on fire and the firemen hose down that house, it doesn’t mean they care any less for the rest of the street; it means that the flames engulfing this particular house are a more pressing concern than the dry rot slowly eating the basement of its neighbour.

I can’t believe it needs saying, but Black Lives Matter because all lives matter. This particular group is getting attention right now because they need it. Just because we are focussing on the more pressing issue right now does not detract from other social issues, nor is the Black Lives Matter movement suggesting that we should not respect other ethnicities simply because the current focus is on aiding a group that is continually victimized.

The idea behind the All Lives Matter movement baffles me as much as the concept of “men’s rights” or “straight pride.” It is an undeniable fact that black people in America face discrimination that many other ethnicities (white or otherwise) do not. That isn’t to say that the trials other groups face are any less important. Rather, it is a matter of acuteness. With the recent high profile (but not out of the ordinary) killings of black men by police in America, and the equally horrific backlash against the officers in Dallas, this crisis has come to a head in ways reminiscent of the civil rights movement.

In light of the recent killings, I think there are two issues that need to be discussed. One is the obvious fact that black people are far more likely to be killed by police than white people, due to factors ranging from ignorance and profiling to outright racism. The other is the issue of police use of force.

This second issue is particularly intriguing, given that American police kill more people than any other western nation by a long shot.

Due to the nature of their society and the rigorous devotion many Americans have to the Second Amendment, it is understandable that cops in the U.S. face a different set of challenges from, say, the U.K., where guns are heavily restricted and the police go unarmed. However, even the gun-centric nature of American society doesn’t account for the disproportionate number of killings carried out by police. Indeed, simply calling the difference disproportionate is an understatement.

The Guardian’s database, The Counted, estimates that American police fatally shot the same number of people in the first 24 days of 2015 as British police shot in the past 24 years.

Just let that sink in for a moment.

In many instances, the use of lethal force is certainly justified, whether to protect the public or the officers themselves. And it is understandable that, sometimes, officers make mistakes. They are, after all, human beings. I have the utmost respect for anyone who goes into police work, putting their own bodies on the line to protect their communities. They see the worst of society: the mangled bodies of car crash victims, abused children, victims of sexual assault. I respect anyone who chooses to go into that line of work. I know I couldn’t.

However, that respect does not extend to a blind refusal to criticize.

In the United States, citizens that people trust to protect and defend them kill almost 100 people every month. Police officers in all countries need to be held to a higher standard. By allowing police officers to carry guns, we, as citizens (of America, Canada, or anywhere else), are giving the state the means to murder us. Policing is the only profession in which people are allowed to kill their fellow citizens as part of their job.

Isn’t it fair that we ask them to be damn sure they are justified in doing so?

Police need to be taught to think beyond the gun belt, especially when operating in places where a citizen can legally carry a concealed firearm with no ill intent. It must be ingrained into police officers that lethal force is a last resort, that drawing one’s gun is not the appropriate response for every kind of threat. Alternatives to firearms such as Tasers and pepper spray need to be used more consistently. Police officers must be taught to respond with equal force to that which they are facing, no more and no less. Officers need to constantly attempt to deescalate situations, resorting to the minimum amount of force necessary to protect themselves and the public.

This is not an easy thing. Police officers are trained to expect threats, and their reactions are often instinctual. Unfortunately, difficulty is not an excuse to avoid change. Despite the fact that most cops are generally decent people who do their job to the best of their abilities, continual efforts must be made to ensure that all cops are held to a higher standard. When mistakes are made, they can be, and often are, fatal.

The mistakes of police officers become all the more important when a specific minority group is disproportionately the victim in such incidents. As the state’s wielders of lethal force, police officers need to be trained to understand and avoid their own unconscious biases (and the biases of the society they represent). The fact that armed or unarmed black men are often the victims of excessive force is suggestive of that society’s wider tendency to profile and discriminate, and does not reflect the impartiality that police officers are supposed to exhibit. Police officers are who we look to for an example. They represent the laws we are all bound by. They must be the best of us.

I doubt that the killers of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile were consciously racist, or that they intentionally murdered black men. They perceived threats to themselves and simply reacted as their training and unconscious biases dictated. Herein lies the issue: police in all countries, particularly America, must develop a standard that emphasises the reality of situations over perception. Tragedies like those of the past week must be avoided at all costs.

No system will ever be perfect, but perfection is what we must strive for; mistakes will always be made, but we cannot simply abandon trying to prevent them.

Police officers are human beings. Does that mean that easily preventable, often fatal, mistakes should be ignored? No. Police officers are our protectors and our examples, carrying the power to end our lives should it be necessary. These are heavy responsibilities. Is it so much to ask that only the strongest of us be allowed to bear those responsibilities? 

Odd fiction

So I recently wrote a piece of short fiction inspired by a conversation with a friend, where one of us said something about "living at the bottom of a cereal box." We sort of both paused and looked at one another, and then she said, "That would make a good story."

So I wrote a story about a child who lives at the bottom of a cereal box.

It's as bizarre as it sounds, but I'm inclined to think it isn't terrible, though it certainly isn't for everyone. It's very short, and doesn't have a conventional plot. However, I'd really love some feedback on this, so give it a quick read and let me know what you think :)

Untitled

This is a story about a child who lived at the bottom of a cereal box.

This child’s name is Samuel, and one can see from the start that Samuel’s story is hardly typical, not in the least because its conclusion has yet to be reached.

You see, most stories begin after the fact. They are a recounting of events past. Samuel’s story is ongoing, and shall be for quite some time.

Right this second, Samuel sits at the bottom of his cereal box. Where the cereal box is, he does not know. He has a vague understanding of where such items end up, but he can never be sure so long as he lives inside the box.

He remembers the children in the factory where he came from, his friends before they were packaged and placed in their own boxes. They always did wonder what would happen once they were placed in their boxes. Samuel remembers the stories they told about the big people who took the cereal boxes into their homes and would collect the children from their cardboard bottoms.

This frightens Samuel. He does not wish to be collected from the bottom of his cereal box. It is a simple, safe place. There is the occasional jostling and shaking, and sometimes he thinks he can hear voices coming from the other side of his box’s wall, but it is an otherwise peaceful existence. Some children are scared by their boxes, by the dark and the oppressive boundaries of their homes, longing for the freedom and possibility of the outside world. But not Samuel. Samuel is a simple fellow, and a simple life holds the most appeal to him.

Hence his fear.

What will he do when the day comes that his simple life is interrupted? He has never experienced the world before, and he would prefer to keep it that way. His friends in the factory always did tell stories of the outside world. Of course, none of them had ever experienced it firsthand; all cereal box children go straight from the confines of the factory to the safe darkness of their cereal boxes. Yet the fact remains that the world has always seemed to Samuel a scary place.

They say that some cereal box children find happiness in the world, when the big people free them into the light. Some big people cherish and love their cereal box children, embracing them and helping them face the terrifyingly boundless new world beyond their safe havens. This thought is intimidating, but it does not frighten Samuel.

What frightens him are the other stories he hears, of children being left and forgotten, stolen from the safety of their boxes only to be tossed aside when the big people grow bored. As Samuel now sits in his box, wondering if he can hear voices on the other side of his wall, he remembers these stories and fights back tears. He must be strong.

The balancing of safety with freedom is one of life’s great paradoxes. As comfortable as Samuel’s cereal box may be, it is indeed a prison. One cannot experience life from the confines of a cereal box, however cozy that box may be.

Samuel does not understand this truth. All that the poor cereal box child can understand is the fear as his world is shaken and voices come from above.

Will he be cherished, in the open world, he wonders? Will his big person care for him, or will he be discarded, as he has heard so many are?

He sees a light above, the outside world seeping in. Samuel is scared.

This is not the end of his story.

Only a page break.