We

We are men. We know pain,

Which we freely acknowledge,

Yet we don’t complain.

It isn’t the pain that aggrieves.

It’s the unfairness

that comes

From those who deceive us.

Hypocrites all, they try to fool us

With improvised news,

With which they would school us.

They haven’t an ethos they would defend

Unless it’s that destiny decrees they hold the hill,

Even if that means crushing those below.

Winners keep losers poor and in debt.

And as they drown push them deeper

until they sputter, “I can’t breathe.”

Winners need losers in order to win.

So brainwash some. Impoverish many.

Murder a few. But never admit.

You’re no better than they.

Studebakers and Capitalists

When I last visited South Bend, Indiana, I assumed it was for the first and final time. But karma doesn’t work that way. It puts one in situations one never expect for reasons one rarely understand. Karma brought me here once more. Last time I was here there wasn’t time to visit the Studebaker Museum across the street from our accommodations at the Avanti House. But this time we ventured inside.

Within the museum’s walls are some very shiny and cool old cars, mostly Studebakers. But there are also old horse carriages. Studebaker began as a blacksmith shop. Later it built carriages. Ultimately, the company decided to hedge its bets by manufacturing automobiles in addition to carriages in case “horseless carriages” were more than a passing fad. Studebaker’s first car was electric, a quiet vehicle that didn’t foul the air. But the public demanded gasoline powered cars. In time Studebaker made those exclusively.

Among the museum’s carriage collection are several that transported American president’s. Of these carriages, two provided the last rides taken before their riders were assassinated. A somber coincidence perhaps. Karma can do that.

If the museum can be said to tell a story, the story is this. Companies have natural life cycles. Studebaker began as a simple blacksmith shop. It took risks, but also gave the public the products it desired. It grew from a one-person business to become a major automobile manufacturer. However, when its fortunes changed in the 1960s, it went out of business. This is capitalism in its pure and natural form. It takes risks, pleases consumers, competes and innovates.

There is a myth that circulates among us. It’s that markets should be self-regulating and free. Economist Robert Reich points out that markets have always had their rules, such as those governing bankruptcy and loan terms. Karl Popper noted that without regulations, seemingly free markets would develop consumer strangling monopolies. Markets should serve consumers, not profiteers. I believe the free market myth is a disguise for class-entitlement thinking. Too much winning convinces some of the wealthy that they are deserving of what falls to them. Because they deserve what they ultimately get, class-entitled people are willing to bend rules by seeking favorable treatment from the government and others. When they talk about a free marketplace, they mean one free from environmental rules that force their industrialists to pick-up after themselves. It’s like they say, “We make chemical products. The remaining hazardous waste is an unintended byproduct that’s not our problem.” Staying focused on the product and not on the damage it causes, leads oil company executives to bury reports on climate change while misinforming the public.

There are some who say capitalism works best when it’s unregulated. I don’t believe it. We live in a complex world. Regulations are sometimes needed. Studebaker began small, gave the public what it wanted, took risks, changed with the times, grew large, then died a natural death. This is how it should be.

Unfortunately the same wealthy men who advocate unregulated marketplaces also advocate tax breaks and handouts for themselves. These wealthy men feel entitled to special advantages. They’ve forgotten that capitalism is entwined with risk. In order to convert more oil into money, some of these men misinformed the public about climate change. The lies have worked to some degree, but the tide of opinion has changed — most people are now convinced that climate change is real and imminent. Sustainable, green technologies are being birthed and implemented. Ultimately businesses based on obsolete petroleum technology will decline and die. That’s how capitalism is supposed to work. Competition drives innovation and innovation drives economic growth. Dinosaurs that prefer lying to competing and innovating deserve to disappear.

All art is propaganda

Propaganda refers to the use of persuasive information to influence public opinion. Such information is often distorted, based on rumors and allegations, or simply untruthful. But that isn’t always the case. Governments often release persuasive public service announcements based on factual information. And that, too, can be called propaganda insofar as it promotes and spreads information persuasively. Generally people think of propaganda in its negative sense, as a tool of corrupt governments and institutions. However I think W.E.B. Du Bois, Upton Sinclair, George Bernard Shaw, and George Orwell intended the word in its broader sense when they considered art as propaganda.

It raises serious questions, but pared down to the bone their meaning is clear: art attempts to persuade others of an artist’s viewpoint using factual, fictional, or even biased information. Its function is to propagate a viewpoint. It is therefore propaganda.

I began to take a fresh interest in George Orwell when I saw “Down and Out in Paris and London” on a must-read list. While reading his, “Burmese Days” I wondered what else he’d written. I found a compilation of Orwell’s essays titled, “All Art is Propaganda”. Intrigued, I requested it from the library. Once I got it home I looked for the essay with that title. There wasn’t one. So I went online to look for the quote.

It turns out that Orwell wasn’t the only writer who’d made such a statement. George Bernard Shaw is credited with, “All great art and literature is propaganda.” Prolific author, Upton Sinclair, said, “All art is propaganda. It is universally and inescabably propaganda; sometimes unconsciously, but often deliberately, propaganda.”

W.E.B. Du Bois addressed propaganda during a 1926 lecture. He tells us, “The apostle of Beauty thus becomes the apostle of Truth and Right not by choice but by inner and outer compulsion.” He continues, “Thus all Art is propaganda and ever must be, despite the wailing of the purists. I stand in utter shamelessness and say that whatever art I have for writing has been used always for propaganda for gaining the right of black folk to love and enjoy. I do not care a damn for any art that is not used for propaganda. But I do care when propaganda is confined to one side while the other is stripped and silent.”

In Orwell’s case, the comment about propaganda is made in reference to Charles Dickens, “But every writer, especially every novelist, has a ‘message’, whether he admits it or not, and the minutest details of his work are influenced by it. All art is propaganda. Neither Dickens himself nor the majority of Victorian novelists would have thought of denying this. On the other hand, not all propaganda is art.”
Have I been writing propaganda? It’s something to ponder.