Rethinking work in the 21st century

The danger of using superlatives for describing one book is when you read the next one, and find it gives you a verbal bear hug every bit as strong as the previous one. Nonetheless, the joy is all mine in reading the latest contribution from Ellen Ruppel Shell. The Job: Work and its future in a time of radical change  (2019) As I was reading it I couldn't help but think: I wish this was the book that I had been able to write five years ago when I was deep into my own story (see left side bar link). It acts as a perfect sequel to the musings from my slim volume.

Shell is a professor of journalism from Boston University. She has provided her thesis with an enviable depth of research that, at last, has given her subject the gravitas it deserves. Chapter 8 in particular made me feel vindicated in a way few other authors have articulated. Mind the (skills) gap elucidates the fantasy of widely available stable, living-wage jobs, and characterizes this wishful thinking as "toxic alchemy." This truth alone, makes it harshly obvious that if the poor have no choice but to take any job they can get, then they are participating in the precarious, low-wage jobs that keep them poor in the first place. Perfectly stated this way:

“Because it incentivizes more people, no matter their skills, to accept any job they can get, it reduces the need for employers to create better jobs, or to open up better jobs to people closed out of them, people who may lack credentials or a certain pedigree but who, like Susan and Leroy, are willing and able to work.”  “The idea that a lack of skills is preventing many people from working their way out of poverty is wrong,” Edin said. “‘Skills’ is a smokescreen for other things.”

Also:

"This "skills gap" finding was so widely quoted that it became a sort of cultural meme. But other than the say-so of employers, there was little if any evidence to support the vague and slippery claim."

We are often told that the future is an open field for those educational concentrations involving science, technology, engineering and math, but she reports that the supply of STEM graduates is 2 to 3 times larger than demand. Even Paul Krugman has coined the term "zombie idea" to indicate beliefs that have been "repeatedly refuted with evidence and analysis but refuse to die."

This ruse does not escape the notice of grads:

 “Smart students preferred not to invest their hopes, efforts, and intellectual capital in sectors that no matter the hype dumped workers at the least provocation, sometimes only to replace them with cheaper workers, whether they be domestic or from abroad.” 

Then in Chapter 11, The Finnish Line, when you are good and ready for some solutions, Shell delivers with a truckload. Finland certainly wasn't on my radar, but putting it there was a welcome education. We are introduced to Pekka Pohjakallio, whose firm is rethinking work for the 21st century. In contrast to how most Americans conceptualize the urgent call to innovate, here a more realistic version prevails.

 “The innovation bubbles up most often when the brain is relaxed and deep in thoughts beyond the particular problem at hand—that is when we seem to be least productive.”

“Reflection is what makes most of us more efficient, not less, Pohjakallio said, “But we are given no time for reflections because it’s impossible to measure, and impossible to bill against. We are constantly fixated on the ends, not the means, and that holds us back. If we really knew what was valuable, many of us might easily be able to accomplish what needs to get accomplished not in ten or twelve hours a day but in four.” 

If you are hungry, even starved, for hearing about methodologies that function at human scale this book doesn't disappoint. In fact, it elevates the reader's potential to believe that improvements are possible. Shell refers to our current system as our nation's work disorder, and rightly partners with those who predict it will not be solved by technology, but by a change in the rules.

And it gets better: 

Chapter 12, Abolish Human Rentals. In this chapter Shell makes clear that the very basis of our interactions binding us to forces of commerce create in us a violation of what would otherwise be an equalized sense of duty to each other, collectively.

“Regarding ourselves as “human rentals” makes it more difficult for us to make meaning of our work, for the very reason that we are human and therefore subject to certain assumptions, including what social scientists call the “reciprocal obligation.” In employment context, the reciprocal obligation involves a psychological contract between employers and employees--the implication that each party will work together for mutual benefit. Employment at will essentially breaches this implicit contract: since it allows employees to be fired for almost any reason, or no reason at all,…”

In every subsequent passage and chapter the author never backs down from revealing every layer of sham contrivance made for the advantage of the employer. And then, in Chapter 14, Homo Faber, I came across an explanation I've wanted to hear for a seriously long time.

“For nearly a century, corporate social responsibility was subjugated to--and some argued legally trumped by--a fiduciary duty to make shareholders as much money as possible. This duty--later articulated by Milton Friedman--was first made law through the case of Dodge v. Ford Motor Company in 1919, in which Henry Ford was overturned in his effort to employ as many men as possible so as to spread prosperity (and presumably demand for his cars). Oddly the ruling also thwarted Ford’s efforts to lower the price of his cars, and to raise wages. The Michigan Supreme Court declared that Ford shareholders must take precedence over the needs of employees and even customers. Over time, through both law and custom, the concept of “shareholder primacy” became the default position for all publicly held companies.”

And in this last chapter as much as I could agree with the author, I still had questions I would have loved to invite her to answer. But to prevent this review from going on indefinitely, I'll leave you not only with a hearty recommendation to read it for yourself, but also one last necessary quote:

“Growing efficiencies was a fixation of the industrial age. It’s a fixation we can no longer afford. We must quell the GDP fetish, a metric that overvalues work of the sort that brings outsized profit to the few and underrates and even fails to measure what matters most--work of intrinsic value to those who do it and to those who need it done. …”

 Amen!

The Quest 2016

Today's response prompt asks:

What I most need to tell myself about 2016 is....

Relax.

You already know that you're connected with the people who can help you piece the puzzle together. You are not alone. Your work will become as visible and embraced as you want it to be. I'm willing to support you. Are you willing to support me?

No question will go unasked. No question will go unanswered.

May there be laughter along the way.

The first quarter of a new year

I can't believe how long it has been since the last time I posted anything on my once vibrant blog.

In the intervening months I have moved to a new neighborhood, accepted a part-time job, and made a few new friends. Much is the same, but I have a more nuanced sense of what aging feels like now. That is a topic for another day.

There is a lot about my current situation that is very good, and on the days when I can recognize that fully, I am grateful as a person should be.

I recently finished reading Barbara Ehrenreich's autobiography, Living with a wild god. She is one of my favorite writers. She makes the craft seem effortless. My own efforts feel sporadic and choppy. I am forever having to piece things together and inject additional context just to make my thoughts stick together properly on the page.

My complaints as well as my praise are much the same as in previous years; however, I have a new person to add to the praise column.

His name is Guy Standing and I recently discovered him on that font of video recordings, YouTube.

All you need do is key in his name and choose whichever one suits the time you have available to watch it. He is spot on.

Go. You'll see what I mean.

Just another teaser

It was a long and fruitful summer. At last I've turned the corner on a chapter that marks a very significant turning point for my book.

Here is another snippet:

Again, I’ve raised more questions than I’ve answered. I’ve looked as far as I can go from a computer screen. I’ve dropped hints, made suggestions, and sneered at human foibles when overwhelmed by the absurdities. In the process of performing this mental exercise I’ve had the opportunity to expose some nagging thoughts. I’ve tested them out to see if they were reason enough to think that my fate hinged on their existence. I have since reasoned that the answer is—no. I am guilty, though, of giving some of them too much power over my state of mind. How else could I write about them so passionately? Dang. Another question.

One can stand and stir the pot for only so long. Sooner or later the fire dies, the pot grows cold, and I have to pull off the witch’s hat and look elsewhere for better incantations. The next chapter represents an oasis of contemplation far from the polarized monologue of the fate of capitalism. It is in some of these proposals that I find the greatest source of understanding, if not solace, for my long-wandering heart.  

The first free will offering of 2014

Last week I was leaving the market walking south on first avenue. I passed someone in a wheelchair and a couple steps later heard a faint, "Excuse me".  I slowed down to make sure the request was directed at me. "Excuse me", he said again with no greater insistence, just very calmly.

Often I don't stop, but this time my social filters told me--it's OK there is nothing to be lost here. I walked up beside the young man. I thought he was maybe in his early twenties. He immediately thanked me for not ignoring him like everyone else. He quickly told me his story. Diabetic, wound on his leg, no health insurance, etc. He showed me his wound. His right ankle was red and swollen with large scabs; I could barely look at it and told him so. I immediately apologized. What had gotten into me?

These chance encounters are so full of clues and I felt I was only playing a part in some little drama. When reality is too much I'm just in someone else's movie. It takes the pressure off.

He had a short stack of papers clipped together and a cell phone on his lap. He showed me the name of the drug he was taking. I recognized it as a powerful antibiotic. Underneath that sheet was a bus schedule with a list of figures written in black Sharpie. They were unidentified costs large and small and obviously adding up quickly. Every word from him was matter-of-fact with no hint that any of it was less than true. "I need ten bucks to get out of the hole", he said.

I reached into my bag and pulled out a couple fives. I said something that quashed the gods of self-consciousness, and so was more for me than him. "Some people would say don't trust him, but I don't give a fuck."

He looked up at me with a stare that said, I can't believe you just did that. And then he said something I knew was not necessarily part of the typical beggar's vernacular. "I'll pay it forward. I always do." Instantly he became a new person, more complete in my mind's eye even as I knew nothing else about him. I patted him on the shoulder probably more forcefully than I needed to and quickly continued on my way lest I became emotional and embarrassed.

My hyper imagination allows random feelings to live too close to the surface. It confuses me. I constantly need to check in with other sources to understand what the hell is going on. One of those sources is Charles Eisenstein.

I recently finished his book The More Beautiful World Our Hearts Know Is Possible. It is a series of essays like no other I've ever read. Eisenstein is known for dissecting the underlying currents, or lack thereof, behind currency transactions. The connection I made with this person was so vague and tangential, but it wouldn't have existed at all had I not engaged in some kind of conversation. Of course, I could have taken out a couple bills and stuffed them in his hand and walked away without a word. Then what?

He would have gotten his money just the same, but he would not have had the opportunity to justify the validity of his need and thus to explain the context of his life. By refusing to comprehend my own involvement in a life as fragile as his own I am living a lie that is encouraged by a  silent currency transaction. And so, if one fails to connect the power of money with the power of human connection that power is hideously misused. It is a power that acknowledges only the necessity of the transaction and denigrates the value of the players as if they are only conduits, like having electricity without wires, it is just static that fills the air waiting to find a place to spark. Perhaps that is why it is popular to say that money is energy. This only points out how easily symbols are confused with the real thing. Money doesn't have energy, people do. (Sound familiar?) Redistribution of money sounds like a very unpopular political initiative, but if the comparison to energy is valid why not frame it as realigning chi? Get the flow going. Prevent stagnation for better health. Here the comparison works. Scarcity quickly becomes the lie it is.

***

If the value of money could somehow be conjoined with the idea of caring and sustaining the continuation of life, and simultaneously be dismantled from the idea that over accumulation is the requirement for well-being, then those with way too much of it might want to dispense with their excesses in order to regain some shares of love. What a concept! Obviously, I'm not afraid of sounding a little silly in order to make a point. Conjecture often gets to a version of the truth that works if only in writing. I'd like to think it is self-evident that money without relationship is a cold, dead _______________. Fill in the blank. You'll never get any love from it. This is obvious, but where is the movement?

Why we need to stop giving back

A few years ago I was watching Oprah talk with John Travolta. I wasn't really paying attention to the television screen until I heard one of them say: "Doesn't it feel good to give back?" The other one heartily agreed. I remember that moment as the time I started paying attention to that expression and how often it is used.

The more I heard it the less I liked it. The essential idea behind using the term give back seems well-intentioned, but unpack that semantic baggage and you've got some seriously dirty laundry. Every single time I hear it I can't help but complete the sentiment in my head. It goes like this:

I'd really like to give back to my community because let's face it, I took too much the first time!

Hidden in plain sight is the notion that with abundance comes obligation and a requisite amount of guilt. The quest for wealth is made less problematic because one can so easily get rid of this guilt by giving back. Thus you can be admired for your accumulation without incurring any righteous disdain because you've done your part to relieve the burden the rest of us must feel for not being you.

Thus begins the push-me-pull-you schizophrenia of the desires we are conditioned to possess and the unrelenting terror of having no upper limit so that we may know exactly when it is time for us to give back. Tell me John, was it before or after you bought that first jet? I'm thinking--after.

If you have any doubt about whether this whole do-I-have-enough-money business is a creepy, ew-inducing insanity, all you need do is discover the etymology of the word tithe on Wikipedia.


Believe it or not I was raised a good Christian so I had a little background with this concept:

...the New Testament scriptures are seen as teaching the concept of "free will offerings" as a means of supporting the church...

That should read supporting the work of the church which presumably is caring for the less fortunate. And what about free will?

I must have tuned into this philosophical conundrum early on because I can remember after church one Sunday when I was a kid one of my parents grousing at how little some of the other parishioners put in the basket. What made it so easy to feel superior?

Not for me thanks. But not so fast. The sad fact in understanding conditioned responses is knowing that you, too, have never escaped them.

How we use language is a hugely conditioned response. Its power to perpetuate stupidity continues unquestioned unless we simply start making better choices with how we describe important concepts.

I want to encourage people to make free will offerings anytime they feel so moved, but if you didn't take too much in the first place, what the hell do you think you are giving back? No one wants your guilt, everyone needs your love.

This post is dedicated to my kindred spirit Noam Chomsky.

P.S. If you would like to read more on a related topic I highly recommend this excellent article by Ian Svenonius.

Surviving Progress

A great documentary can make you feel as compelled to watch it as it does squeamish about what it reveals. Surviving Progress is one such film. In the course of reviewing the history of debt, Michael Hudson, a former Wall Street economist, renders a characterization of oligarchy in such a stark manner that I was taken aback when he said:

“ 'You will never get back what we have taken from you.' That’s what brought on the dark ages. If you let the concentration of wealth accumulate in the hands of a financial class, this class isn’t going to be any more intelligent in the long term in disposing of the wealth than their predecessors were in other countries.”

He proposes a solution of annulling the debt to the top 10% --the oligarchs, and readily admits it is highly unlikely to happen.

“They would rather annul the 90% right to live than annul the money due to them. They would rather strip the planet, shrink the population and be paid, rather than give up their claims. That’s the political fight of the 21^st century.”

I admit I imagined the belief of the financial class was this bad, but never have I heard anyone put it in such shocking sincerity as this before. At last, it seems all is revealed.

A book for the inquisitive soul

             There have been times when I have fantasized about having a life still of this world, but resolutely beyond the rat race. I live on a farm, play with animals, weave baskets, and the crops never fail. It is a world devoid of customers, bosses and the general public. It is populated only by friends who bring tureens full of soup and loaves of warm bread wrapped in linen kitchen towels. I saw this world briefly in the heartland of Minnesota when I was four years old. It was probably Lake Wobegon.
             It is this fantasy that has made me curious about people who are trying to live it. So as I study the social and economic upheavals of our time, I also look for those few courageous souls who find a way to break from the conventional path of life in the U.S.

             Nowhere is this attempt to live a singularly defined life more thoughtfully rendered than in Mark Sundeen’s book, The Man Who Quit Money. It is the story of his friend, Daniel Suelo, who throughout his adulthood seeks to reconcile his spiritual beliefs with the outward expression of his life within human society.
             Sundeen carefully, methodically builds our understanding of Daniel’s journey through his religious upbringing, college years, social maturation and his many attempts to find meaningful work. Through the use of letters, diary entries, and the recollection of friends, this man emerges complete as we see his faith transformed. He makes several attempts over many years but eventually realizes he has in many ways already come to terms with how to live without money.
             This is an intelligent work, a story that could have easily made its subject appear little more than a tragic fool, but Sundeen neatly avoids that by crafting his narrative based on Daniel’s search for meaning. I was unexpectedly moved even while I didn’t relate to every confrontation or emotional upheaval. A universal struggle threads continuously throughout the story, and Sundeen's observations bring to light a compassionate hindsight making sense of each conundrum.
             The Man Who Quit Money reveals how Daniel’s insight and intellectual inquiry develops over time. The evolution of his attitude toward poverty and wealth is woven into the context of current events and other writers and spiritual leaders. He concludes:

Money is merely the most convenient means of keeping track of the much deeper, and timeless, human inclination towards credit and debt. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Yet we humans have stolen payment and debt from the gods. We cannot freely give or freely receive anything. We live under constant obligation.

            No matter your feelings about this guy, it is difficult to walk away from this book without having at least a few of your ideas about living with and working for money tweaked into a more amorphous shape. This is one of the most thought-provoking books I’ve read in 2012, and the beauty of it is that you don’t have to relate to Daniel’s struggle in order to find what sooner or later nearly everyone questions.