A Response to Sam Sternad’s “Wasteful”: How to Radically Curb Poverty, Hunger, and Various Other Social and Economic Ills

           Thursday, Sam Sternad blogged about the wasted food at the CDR — wasted food, she argues, that could go to the surrounding impoverished Springfield community. I agree with Sternad; it is indeed, as she terms it, a “crime” that people go without food — a morally outrageous crime committed by one of the wealthiest nation in the world.

            However, in addition to curbing food waste, I think there’s a more comprehensive way we can address this issue. Because food insecurity — and its cause, poverty — are problems created by public policy, I offer a policy-driven solution: the Universal Basic Income [UBI].

            The UBI is a program in which the federal government cuts a yearly check to every resident citizen — no strings attached, no questions asked. In other words, it is like Social Security for all.

            While some people may scoff at this policy as radical, or even crazy, if implemented, it would undeniably reduce — and potentially end — poverty. According to Demos economics blogger Matt Bruenig, cutting a $3,000 check to each individual would halve poverty. This would certainly curtail a great amount of the hunger that Sternad addressed — both in Springfield, and in the U.S. at-large.

            Along with reducing poverty, a UBI is constructive in various other ways. First, a UBI would promote autonomy among those in the labor market. A recent ABC poll shows that over half of those who are employed feel overworked; nearly 70 percent say they dream of having a different job. For those holding multiple jobs and/ or working more than 40 hours a week, a UBI would allow them to cut back on hours, or even quit a job — and, in turn, spend more time with family, more time bettering their employment prospects through higher education, or more time being artistically creative.

            Moreover, for us college students, a UBI would mean less pressure to settle for unwanted post-undergrad jobs. For instance, we could use our UBI money to pay down our loans, start an entrepreneurial venture, or supplement the income of a postgrad job that doesn’t compensate well enough, but is one that we really wish to have (e.g., AmeriCorps, The Nation, etc.). A UBI would even allow us to partake in the infamous unpaid internship without the risk of starving.

            Ultimately, no matter one’s circumstances, a UBI would allow one to rent him/herself for less time to undesirable employers.

            A UBI wouldn’t only promote autonomy for workers, but it would also do so for women who are involved in physically and/ or psychologically abusive relationships. Many women stay in abusive relationships because they wouldn’t have enough financial resources to support themselves — and, in some cases, their kids — without their husband/ boyfriend. A UBI would thus help many women separate from an abusive partner without risk of financial disaster. Therefore, because it helps facilitate a path of social and economic self-determination for women, the UBI program is also feminist.

            Furthermore, the UBI would also serve as a supplement for domestic work — which is disproportionately practiced by women — that we don’t typically consider compensable labor: most namely, child rearing. Raising a child is certainly labor, and it undeniably profits society at-large, but we have yet to institutionalize a way to compensate for it — the UBI is our chance.

            Finally, a UBI would stimulate the economy. Placing an extra $3,000 in the pockets of each individual would undeniably create greater consumer demand and spending — especially among those inhabiting the lower wrongs of the economic latter, of whom spend the greatest amount of their income. The UBI is thus not only a morally sound, but also economically constructive.

            Beyond theory, and to address practicality, $3,000 per individual is about six percent of our national GDP. This is quite a bit of money, but the revenue can be raised through various avenues that would not adversely affect the economy: raising the current capital gains tax, levying a financial transaction tax, creating a public sovereign wealth fund, and/ or ending corporate welfare. In short, with political will, it can be done.

            Poverty, hunger, and economic exploitation are some of the worst facets of the American experience.  It is certainly not a lack of imagination that is stopping us from ending them — evidenced by Sternad’s post. Rather, political apathy is stopping us. We can curb, if not eradicate these injustices with a single policy; let’s get to work.

“No Justice, No Peace!”: an Un-objective Report from the Trenches in the Battle for Social Justice

**Preface: Before proceeding, I’d like to note that I was not able to report objectively on the Saturday rally in Beavercreek for John Crawford III; I was indeed an impartial participating protester, and my transcription of the event should be read as such.**

             “Black lives matter!” cried Maria Jamison, a local organizer with Color of Change, in the parking lot of the same Beavercreek Wal-Mart where 22-year-old John Crawford III was shot dead by police a few weeks ago. The fierce cries leaped from the dark, petite, 5’6” woman. She is so short that the mic on the podium had to be bent 45 degrees downward to reach her mouth.

            “Black lives matter in Ohio! Black lives mater in St. Louis! Black lives matter everywhere!” Jamison continued. In coordination with every syllable, her small clinched fist — which was wrapped around a rolled piece of paper, presumably speech notes had been abandoned — shook up-and-down, flinging beaded sweat from her forearms into the front row of the surrounding crowd. As every sentence ended, Jamison violently shook her head from left to right, and her long, thin dreadlocks follow. Jamison’s eyes were hidden by oversized sunglasses — but her passion transcended even the surrounding Pentagon Blvd. strip-mall; it was, in a word, uncontainable.

            To the far left of the speaker and under a blue pop-up tent, the Crawford family was congregated. Tressa Sherrod, Crawford’s mother, sat in a red folding chair, her eyes were fixed intensely on the speaker — but she never claped or shouted; she wasn’t even able to offer a nod of affirmation. She remained paralyzed for the duration of the rally.

            Surrounding Sherrod in a semi-circle were a few young adults and teenagers — presumably Crawford’s siblings and cousins. They stood wearing blank, stern stairs — which were aimed into the crowed — and crossed arms, looking as if they were bodyguards protecting Sherrod. The younger children kneel with their faces down while twisting and fidgeting a piece of paper that had been handed-out earlier in the rally. The family seemed to share a tone of despair, though one is not sure if language can convey such a mood.

            Beyond the podium and pop-up tent, an anxious crowd of around 300 was formed in a semi-circle — some were holding hands, others holding signs.

            The crowd was diverse. The organizing groups included, among many other groups, the National Action Network[NAN], the Ohio Student Association [OSA], Color of Change, Swagg the Vote, and the Nation of Islam [NOI]. From faith-based organizations, to policy-driven non-profits, all the way to partisan groups — organizations that ascribe to having as sense of communal responsibly showed up well organized. Professional speakers and organizers, as well as elected officials were among the crowd, including State Representative and President of the Ohio Legislative Black Caucus Alicia Reece (D-Cincinnati). Old guard grass-roots volunteer activists, who reminisced of the civil rights movements of the 1960’s, also attended in high numbers, and kicked the rally off by orchestrating a sing along that included illustrious social justice folk tunes, like: “Keep Your Eyes on the Prize.” College students also participated — from Wittenberg, Antioch, and Ohio State. Protesters were Black, White, East Asian, and various shades of pigment in between. Indeed, “the fight for justice knows no color,” as many protestors contended.

            “We want Justice!” Jamison concluded, leaving the podium and collapsing into a lawn chair behind the other speakers. After a final round of applause, the crowd slowly disbanded, but some of the elder organizers began to sing: “Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on.”

            Ultimately, while the group was incredibly diverse, the collective attitude can be described in a single word: Solidarity. And while the rally only lasted about an hour, the participants’ goal — Justice — will certainly entail a never-ending battle. However, evidence of these two ideals is possibly the only source of hope amidst the ugly, inhumane, White supremacist ideology that inflicts America — an ideology that has stripped many lives from many families, many lives from many communities.

“On Being White and Other Lies:” A Reading List for White People Amidst Ferguson

             Michael Brown’s tragic death, the subsequent protests, and the dubious reactions from police have transcended Ferguson and made their way to the forefront of national discourse, spurring conversations on race and racism. These are conversations worth having, but we — White people — should come to the table with informed, reasoned, and humbled perspectives. This, of course, means doing our homework, and studying from material created by those who have lived experiences with these issues. Below, I’ve laced my feelings on Ferguson — and racism at-large — with a reading list that, from my White perspective, I think is useful for understanding race, racism, and the role for White people in a movement for comprehensive racial justice.

            First, we (White people) must understand that the issues revolving around Ferguson are not issues of race — but issues of racism. Which is to say, race is a social construct, and a construct — in an American context — created by White supremacy, and utilized for subjugation. Late essayist, playwright, and novelist James Baldwin articulates this idea well in his essay, “White Man’s Guilt:” “White men have used the word color, the concept of race, to justify unspeakable crimes” (Baldwin 412). Thus, when we talk about issues like Ferguson, we should frame the discussion in a way that addresses racism — i.e., the exploitation of people based on race — and not race itself, which is merely a matter of skin tone. For example, in practice this means recognizing that protesters or leaders critical of these events are not "race-baiting" — they are expressing detest of racism.

            To grapple with this topic, I suggest consulting Baldwin, most namely, The Fire Next Time, and a few of his other essays from his collection, The Price of the Ticket: “On Being White and Other Lies,” “White Man’s Guilt,” “Many Thousands Gone,” and “The American Dream and the American Negro.”  (These are relatively short, and can be read in a brief sitting; the ideas, however, are heavy, and should take some time to digest.) Baldwin is not only able to compellingly deconstruct the myth of race — or, as he describes it, a “curtain” (Baldwin, “On Being White and Other Lies” 409) — but he is also able to articulate psychological despair felt by the individual who experiences racism — despair that is impossible to fully grasp, but worth wrestling with. While White people will never be able to completely understand what it’s like to be Black, it is important to try to empathize, to begin to imagine — for the Black experience is a heavy slice of the human condition.  

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            While we should operate from the assumption that race is a social construct, it is just as important to understand that race has lived experiences. This means acknowledging that people of color are more likely to be harshly disciplined in school; are disproportionately convicted for crimes committed at same rates across racial lines; face higher rates of unemployment and lower levels of economic prosperity; and are hindered from building wealth at the same rate of Whites by nearly every measure. It is also crucial to keep in mind that these are systemic, institutionalized problems — not individualized ones.

            To gain insight on how we, as a nation, have created this context of racialized inequity, we must wrestle with — and ultimately accept — the brutality and inhumanity of our nation’s history: from slavery, to Jim Crow, to now. For myself, this historical autopsy has been predominantly, but not entirely, informed by three pieces of work, beginning with Douglas Blackmon’s Slavery By Another Name, which chronicles the re-enslavement of Black people during the Reconstruction Era, and thus debunks the myth that the Emancipation Proclamation wrought the smooth, progressive, unbending arch to the end of racism. As Blackmon shows us that subjugation via chattel slavery continued after slavery until the Second World War, in “The Case for Reparations,” Ta-Naheisi Coates illustrates how racist housing-policy perpetuated segregation, and kept people of color in the mid-1900‘s from acquiring the greatest wealth-building tool — a house — and, more broadly, the American Dream. While Coates is compelling in demonstrating how those policies have impacted generations of Black people up until now, Michelle Alexander is groundbreaking in shedding light on what many have described as the next monumental civil rights issue: the disproportionate mass incarceration of Black people. More specifically, Alexander’s The New Jim Crow contextualizes and explores the rise and dominance of our racist criminal justice system, a system she terms a new “tool to reduce millions of individuals to the status of second-class citizens” (Alexander 12) — a phenomena inextricable from Ferguson.

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            Finally, beyond earning a historical and theoretical lens through which to view the recent events in Ferguson — and elsewhere  — us White folks also have to stay humble and proactive. More specifically, we have to be able to acknowledge that racism isn’t only a construct that subjugates Black people, but also one that benefits us. In a capitalist economy, resources and opportunity are finite, and our privileged, race-based disposition to them comes at the expense of others. Moreover, we must also admit: we don’t get what it’s like to be racially persecuted; we’ve never been there. This humility, however, doesn’t resign us from changing the status quo. As those who benefit from White supremacy, it is our responsibility to help reveal, interrogate, and dismantle it; indeed, white supremacy created racism and race, and these are thus White people problems. 

            This, however, doesn't mean that we should be the face of the movement for justice. Rather, it means listening to those leading the intellectual movement to eradicate structural and interpersonal racism (mentioned above); expressing outrage every time a Michael Brown happens; joining in solidarity with those tempting to shift the tides; and — ultimately — working to relinquish the great amount of material and social capital that we have garnered via White supremacy. To use the words of Baldwin, “until this moment comes, there is scarcely any hope for the American Dream” (“The American Dream and the Negro Dream” 409).

Expectations for Class, Myself, and Journalism At-Large

            Ultimately, I want to become a long-form, investigative journalist, and cover political-, economic-, social-, and public policy-related issues. As a journalist, I would be driven to satisfy two responsibilities, both in the interest of the public:

·      First, functioning as an informer, I would be obliged to provide the general public with accurate and substantive information on public affairs. This means relaying individual experiences of the human condition, and also placing those anecdotes in a broader context.

·      Second, in an adversarial role, I would be compelled to monitor power, which would entail holding those in powerful positions — business, elected, and/ or bureaucratic officials — accountable via shedding light on individual and institutional instances of injustice.

Thus, I would be operating under the assumption that information, story telling, and transparency are public goods — individually important yet inextricable goods that are crucial for a functioning democracy.

            Ideally, I would like to work independent of the very few, huge media conglomerates — six of which own nearly all print and broadcast publications. It is becoming increasingly apparent that these conglomerates do not operate independent of those in power: these large media corporations not only share the same economic interests as other profit-driven entities, but — relatedly — the current economic model of news production dictates that reporters treat news as a consumer product, and thus rely on cheap, accessible, profitable material — material that powerful elites are more-than-willing to provide for self-interested reasons. As a result of this model, journalists within these organizations are often pressed to produce news from the perspective of powerful elites, which curbs their power as independent monitors. I would thus like to work outside of this model, however idealistic and improbable that may be.

         However, if I am unable to secure a position as an independent, investigative journalist, I would like to obtain a vocation as a media watchdog — in either a think-tank, a non-profit research firm, or an academic institution. While journalism — as an institution, as the "Fourth Estate" — carries the crucial responsibility of holding those in power accountable, it is arguably just as important that reporters and media outlets are called to account as well. Indeed, as activist El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz (Malcolm X) noted, “The media is the most powerful entity on the entity on the earth.” Thus, it is not only important to analyze and critique the practice of reporting, but it is also vital to interrogate — and maybe even challenge — the conventional theoretical underpinnings of journalism.

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          In this class, I hope to gain and sharpen some of the skills necessary to thrive in the roles described above. I am excited to begin learning, writing, and reporting in all capacities.