Evicted by Mattew Desmond

When talking about the housing crises and subsequent recession of ‘08, I used to blame it almost entirely for my parent’s divorce. I’d usually posit that had the market not crashed, employment not taken a nosedive, then my mom and stepdad could have made things work. This was largely an effort to couple a personal affront with a larger criticism of the system. The problem with what I was doing was not relative to the truth of the matter, but more of a problem with using the power of narrative to contextualize flaws in the system. After all, my parent’s divorce was not proof of predatory lending or high stakes debt investments, the only credibility it lent my argument (assuming it is true) was that my life was adversely affected by the housing market crash. This is an example of a strong rhetorical tool overtaking the argument it was meant only to bolster.

I’ll be clear, this is far from what Matthew Desmond does in his book Evicted. Desmond meticulously documents poverty in Milwaukee inner cities and rural trailer parks as only a professional journalist could. While first focusing on two landlords and some tenants, he then magnifies these stories, tracking them into some increasingly dark places. Evicted is an exceptionally important book because of the way in which it documents our country’s failure in dealing with our most vulnerable citizens. These are not sob stories, they are gritty realities meant to frustrate the reader.

Each tenant, or character as you might mistakenly be apt to call them, is extorted by their landlord in the most sickening ways. They are thrown increasingly into drug addiction and poverty as eviction after eviction piles up. The stories are heartbreaking, unfair, and gut wrenching. Every American should read them so they can get a glimpse of the way this country is designed to profit off suffering. The idea is that, unlike regular, middle-class tenants, in order to make a profit off our poorest citizens, the landlord must milk a high number of them for everything they are worth. This makes the eviction a pivotal tool. It allows landlords to remove a tenant at the moment they become unprofitable. The result is a terrifyingly fast carousel of poverty and profit.

Despite the fact that Desmond litters Eviction with hard numbers and detailed passages on flawed housing policy, it could still be entirely possible for readers to walk away from it thinking greedy landlords are the problem, or the government, or ineffectual social programs. This is because the main focus is on the way the narrative of downtrodden people like Arleen makes us feel, not what systemic policy most likely put her there. While the descriptions of poverty and the cyclical brutality of the inner-city may make us physically wince, they detract and overshadow the brief passages on causation. At the same time, the descriptions are necessary for any reader concerned with living in and creating a just society.

For this reason, Desmond's book is worth reading, but cautiously. It is an excellent ancillary text that lends itself to a worldview already privy to the flaws of capitalism and America's perpetual reliance on poverty for profit. As a conversation starter it runs the risks inherent in narrative style non-fiction, so resist the urge to recommend it to your mother-in-law's book club.

The New Prophets of Capital by Nicole Aschoff

When Whole Foods came to Detroit I remember Kai Ryssdal of NPR’s Marketplace doing an interview with Walter Robb, the CEO of the company at the time. Admittedly, I was on the bandwagon; I thought a Whole Foods in Detroit was a good thing, was part of the revitalization effort happening across the city. Ryssdal, though, posed some difficult questions to a clearly annoyed Robb (who at one point says something along the lines of “that’s why I’m an entrepreneur and you’re just a journalist”). The skepticism Ryssdal expressed was rooted in gentrification and because of Robb’s continued counter to the concerns over high prices always boiling down to “just doing it right” Ryssdal ended up asking him what his plans were to teach the residents of Detroit how to shop at the store.  

This interview profoundly affected me. I began to see the urban revitalization led by Dan Gilbert and his ilk (whom I worked for at the time) as flawed, despite their intentions. At the same time, I had difficulties expressing this skepticism, I wasn’t sure why dumping private capital into economically disadvantaged areas seemed to result in more inequality when the intention and efficiency were in the right places. It was also difficult to explain to fellow suburbanites why I had my doubts about Detroit being labeled as a “comeback city” when they saw the city generating profit in ways it hadn’t for some time.

This was until, very recently, I read The New Profits of Capital by Nicole Aschoff. The New Profits basically breaks down the stories of successful, well-intentioned, entrepreneurs that seek to make the world a better place through capitalist markets. Aschoff focuses on four big players: Sheryl Sandburg of Facebook, John Mackey of Whole Foods, Oprah, and Bill/Melinda Gates.

Each section follows a pattern. The first part generally discusses the subject in a positive light; Sheryl Sandberg breaking barriers as a woman CEO, John Mackey hasn’t taken a paycheck in years and pays his employees profit share, Oprah’s unfettered benevolence, the Gateses wild success in reducing disease worldwide. This is important, Aschoff isn’t a snooty leftist whose aim is to defecate all over the capitalist class for being evil or greedy. She recognizes the importance of understanding each of these individuals as essentially good. For Aschoff, the flaw is in the philosophy.

The next part of each section usually delves into the limitations of capitalist markets to accomplish the endgame of each subject. The ideas here are enlightening and, in many ways, a total game changer. Some key points used against the subjects are that capital - unlike human needs - can’t be satiated, that markets require inequality, and that private capital is undemocratic. There are more about the limits of the individual vs the system (you can’t bootstrap your way out of poverty)  and conscious consumerism as well. Each was backed up by an abundance of sources demonstrating that capitalism necessitates inequality and a certain amount of people left behind.

The final part of each section talks about ways in which society could be constructed, democratically and socialistically, that would serve the needs of people over the needs of capital. Whether or not you believe this is the answer, The New Profits of Capital is certainly worth reading. If only to poke holes in the success stories capitalists are telling in the wake of immense suffering and poverty. I can’t recommend this book enough, I almost wish it were a documentary for fear that too few people will read it.

And just FYI, I emailed Aschoff at editor@jacobinmag.org to request a Part II featuring Elon Musk, Mark Cuban, Dan Gilbert, and Sarah Koenig from the podcast Serial. So...fingers crossed.

Disobedience and Democracy by Howard Zinn

Disobedience and Democracy is a short essay Howard Zinn wrote in response to a short essay about Law and Order written by a Supreme Court Justice. Zinn outlines nine fallacies in the original essay, quoting extensively enough so that reading it is unnecessary. Each fallacy deals with a more fundamental question on law and order; when, if ever, it is morally permissible to break the law through protest? According to Judge Fortas, the justice who wrote the piece Zinn is eviscerating, the answer is never. Zinn disagrees.

It’s hard not to look at Zinn’s argument as a relic. The moral peril the nation was in at the time of his essay seemed greater than that of today. We’re talking about the Vietnam War, McCarthyism, redlining, and remnants of Jim Crow. So when Zinn states the scope of the civil disobedience in question did not outweigh the immorality of the things they protested, this seems, somehow, truer than today. When Zinn argues that burning your draft card or blocking the road to a chemical weapons manufacturer doesn’t compare to the atrocities of an illegal war, the benefit of hindsight means there are few of us who would disagree as modern readers.

That said, it is important for the modern reader to understand that Zinn’s arguments, at the time, were not widely accepted. That which he advocated the protest of is more comparable to what is happening today than we may be willing to admit while reading argumentative essays of the past. The Vietnam war and the conquests of Indo-Asia/Latin America can strike parallels to the relentless wars in the Middle East today. Surely we can use the same fallacies of law and order when assessing the moral decision demanded of the nation in the case of Edward Snowden, or Standing Rock, or Flint Michigan.

In this regard, Zinn’s words are more relevant than ever. Providing a moral justification and guidebook for disobedience against the state, Disobedience, and Democracy becomes essential reading at a time when democracy is most threatened. While we like to believe we exercise control over our lives by merely participating in democracy, the reality is that we don’t have a say in far too many ways. Americans don’t vote on foreign policy or wars, they don’t decide how much of their taxes go to schools vs corporate subsidies, and with so much corporate spending in elections, they don’t really even elect the leaders that make these decisions. Zinn makes the compelling argument that when democracy becomes an obsolete tool of change, disobedience becomes increasingly necessary.

Whether you’re protesting the state at Standing Rock or the Bundy Ranch, Zinn’s line of questioning will prove invaluable. What do we owe the sanctity of law and what does it owe us? Why must civil disobedience necessarily be non-violent? What are the limits of our government and how do we keep it in check?

If you’re planning to get organized, don’t leave home without your copy.

Socialism...Seriously by Danny Katch

Being from the Midwest, I think the ascendancy and eventual victory of Donald Trump came as less of a surprise to me than many people on the coasts. Michigan was an absolutely essential victory for the Donald and he carried it exactly the way I predicted he would; losing the wealthiest/most diverse counties and sweeping everything else.

I called this victory in Michigan, not from luck, but because this is exactly how Sanders took the win from Clinton in the primaries. Almost county by county. Clinton’s loss in the Mitten speaks volumes about the limitations of Democrats, but this is a book review on a short book, so I’ll keep it short.

So many who consider themselves left leaning value the world the Democratic Party claims it fights for. We care about the environment, economic empowerment, minimum wage increases, ending poverty and war. There is a lot of speculation why the rest of the nation isn’t on board with the Democrats despite their supposed dedication to the causes listed above. These explanations range from racism to stupidity, to brainwashing and corruption. While these could all be a little right, they don’t explain the limitations of the Democratic Party.

Think about the inadequate responses environmentalists have when talking about the jobs that are lost when coal plants are shut down, or of labor activists when advocating the minimum wage, or of democrats advancing agendas of Global Trade when auto jobs are shipped to Mexico.

Even Bernie Sanders, considered the furthest left of the party, gives some wildly inadequate answers to perfectly understandable questions. Just the other day when he was debating Ted Cruz (of all people) about health care on CNN; he was posed with questions from a business owner about their inability to afford the ACA provisions enforced on their business. Sanders’ answer pretty much amounted to “sorry, but you have to offer insurance, if you can’t, go out of business”. That is a nightmare answer for small business owners and probably the reason why so many of them hate the government.

So, why can’t the Democrats answer these questions? Because they are all operating under the assumption that their ideal world - the one devoid of war and poverty and injustice - can be achieved under capitalism. But capitalism doesn’t account for the jobs of coal miners when plants are shut down, or of minimum wage employees, or the sustainability of a salon in Texas that offers health care.

Enter Socialism...Seriously by Danny Katch. A short introduction to Trotsky inspired Socialism via humor and laymen terms. There are a lot of working parts in the book, Katch is asking his readers to imagine a world that isn’t structured by capital or profit, driven by a purer democracy than we have today, and all while debunking some of the major criticisms hurled at the ideology.

At times it seems like Katch has the answers Democrats lack. For example, in a world that doesn’t conform to the rules of “profit first”, full employment and environmentalism seem more compatible. When you really consider that we have to sell our labor to survive (something Katch goes into in perhaps his strongest section of the book; Freedom isn’t Free) suddenly it makes sense that coal miners and auto-workers and displaced lumber workers banded together in Michigan to elect Donald Trump. They see Clinton and the left as job cutters, destroyers of livelihood. There isn’t much indication that they are wrong either, Obama himself admitted that coal refinery workers might hate him for legitimate reasons. When Donald Trump enters that scene promising to bring back lost jobs and protect future ones he makes sense to people who have no choice but to work for a living. Katch is offering a vision of a world in which you don’t lack basic needs or a job just because society decided to automate truck driving.

This short, airtight book is a great one to share. Even if those you give it to aren’t going to run out and buy a copy of the Communist Manifesto, it still offers succinct and radical criticisms of capitalism and government, essential for anyone who is interested in answers beyond the standard liberal talking points.

Where Socialism...Seriously deludes itself is not in the ideology or implementation, but rather its perceived accessibility. I don’t find Katch very funny, his humor parades as edgy but is actual banal and overly safe. One wonders if he favored a poppy, referential humor over a more biting one for fear of isolating readers or if that is just his sense of humor. Either way, it is easy to imagine this sense of humor pissing off actual laborers. Then there are some passages about religion toward the end that seem rushed and incoherent, after a few sections of savage capitalism take-downs the section titled “Is Socialism a Religion?” seems like it’s attempting to win over an abundance of people who associate Socialism with Atheism, which isn’t to say those people exist, but rather that they would never read this book.

Which really speaks to another limitation on the left. This book is great to share with liberal friends and family, or maybe people who don’t consider themselves very political but voice concerns about social justice and human decency. Yet even after all the imagining of a socialist America, this book got me to do, it still couldn’t get me to imagine a Trump voting machinist in Up-North Michigan reading it, let alone being convinced of anything it has to offer.

Both Flesh and Not by David Foster Wallace

This collection could probably more accurately be called “David Foster Wallace Writes About Things”. It is truly for the die-hard fan who can’t read enough DFW and has resorted to looking at pictures of old books he took notes in and restaurant napkins with scribbles on them. They may have even sunk to watching/reading “Though of Course You End Up Finding Yourself”. The desperation in Wallace’s readers that make publishing this collection so lucrative is a testament to DFW as a writer, but none of the pieces here are Wallace’s best. In fact, they are far from. Which is to say, they are still good. Many are fun, some are arduous and academic, one is absolutely terrible, and they all cover a range of topics that keep the casual non-fiction reader on their toes. If you’re at the point in your career as a David Foster Wallace reader when you find you absolutely need to read something new, pick up “Both Flesh and Not”. If you’ve yet to read his entire collection, save this one for later.

Also, as a sort of side note, I could not have read the last essay of this collection at a better time (“Just Asking” pub. The Atlantic). Trump recently made the truly unAmerican decision to ban immigrants/refugees from certain countries with predominantly Muslim faith. The essay is very short and worth quoting in its entirety at such a time:

“Are some things still worth dying for? Is the American idea one such thing? Are you up for a thought experiment? What if we chose to regard the 2,973 innocents killed in the atrocities of 9/11 not as victims but as democratic martyrs, “sacrifices on the altar of freedom”? (Lincoln) In other words, what if we decided that a certain baseline vulnerability to terrorism is part of the price of the American idea? And, thus, that ours is a generation of Americans called to make great sacrifices in order to preserve our democratic way of life—sacrifices not just of our soldiers and money but of our personal safety and comfort?

In still other words, what if we chose to accept the fact that every few years, despite all reasonable precautions, some hundreds or thousands of us may die in the sort of ghastly terrorist attack that a democratic republic cannot 100-percent protect itself from without subverting the very principles that make it worth protecting?

Is this thought experiment monstrous? Would it be monstrous to refer to the 40,000-plus domestic highway deaths we accept each year because the mobility and autonomy of the car are evidently worth that high price? Is monstrousness why no serious public figure now will speak of the delusory trade-off of liberty for safety that Ben Franklin warned about more than 200 years ago? What exactly has changed between Franklin’s time and ours? Why now can we not have a serious national conversation about sacrifice, the inevitability of sacrifice—either of (a) some portion of safety or (b) some portion of the rights and protections that make the American idea so incalculably precious?

In the absence of such a conversation, can we trust our elected leaders to value and protect the American idea as they act to secure the homeland? What are the effects on the American idea of Guantánamo, Abu Ghraib, PATRIOT Acts I and II, warrantless surveillance, Executive Order 13233, corporate contractors performing military functions, the Military Commissions Act, NSPD 51, etc., etc.? Assume for a moment that some of these measures really have helped make our persons and property safer—are they worth it? Where and when was the public debate on whether they’re worth it? Was there no such debate because we’re not capable of having or demanding one? Why not? Have we actually become so selfish and scared that we don’t even want to consider whether some things trump safety? What kind of future does that augur?”

My Struggle by Karl Ove Knausgaard

Karl Ove Knausgaard delivers a long, meticulous, and surprisingly enthralling read in his autobiographical series My Struggle. Part 1 opens with some fun reveries on death and dying before launching into tales of Kanusgaard’s childhood. These are a series of somehow (assuming you’re a white male) relatable stories that range from elementary school to early college. There are a lot of things in these passages for people to enjoy; the painful attempts at starting a band in middle school, the pathetic attempts at fitting in and the misguided importance placed on doing so, the looming presence of a stern father and the growing resentment that follows. Many of us have gone through at least some of these things and, for reasons I cannot really explain, there is a tremendous amount of pleasure to be found in reading them recounted in extreme detail.

This is where My Struggle begins to dwell in the realm of fiction. It isn’t just an autobiography, what makes it a fictional account lies in the story’s minutia. Knausgaard doesn’t rely on charged drama or even all that much human interaction to carry the action of his fiction. What he decides to embellish are the details. This doesn’t require a killer memory and surreal perception skills like one might think. The real skill employed here is imagination. There is no real way of telling whether Knausgaard can really tell what embarrassment felt like, the color of things, the texture, whether he sneezed and at what moment in the conversation. I know I can’t recall many of these things in my own life, but nor could I necessarily imagine myself doing so. That could be because I don’t have the range of imagination Knausgaard allows himself to employ in the retelling. Dwelling with him in these past moments though, is cathartic and rewarding. As a reader I don’t know if I’ve ever really been anywhere like this in a book, even the most detailed fiction leaves out what Knausgaard so essentially and effortlessly captures.

The second half of part one takes a darker turn as Knausgaard comes face to face with a tragedy. I won’t spoil anything, but the detail in emotion intensifies, not in clarity but in scope. We can’t see why Knausgaard feels the way he does or does the things he does, but he is more interested in transporting his reader to the scene rather than the trappings of his psyche. When the book is finished and Knausgaard’s riff on death from the beginning of the novel comes to a close, the reader is greeted with a deep sense of satisfaction reserved for the most beloved of literary classics. I’ll be picking up Book 2.

The Sellout by Paul Beatty

“It’s illegal to yell ‘FIRE’ in a crowded theater, right?”
“It is”
“Well, I’ve whispered racism in a post-racial world”

It is very possible that there will never be a better time to read Paul Beatty’s The Sellout. Since America elected a crypto-fascist clown for president you might have asked yourself, more than a few times, how it was possible democracy could do this to us. A professional entertainer whose ascendancy to fame and fortune includes everything from reality TV and professional wrestling to conspiracy theory propagation and, now, rust belt populism is the most powerful man in the world. Everyone, even people who voted for the guy, probably even he himself, is trying to reconcile the sheer possibility that this could even happen. Well, enter Paul Beatty.

Beatty breaks out his war chest - irony, irreverence, allusion, and satire - to tell the unlikely tale of Bonbon; an inner-city African American farmer who proves that there is no transcending race or racial history in America. But Bonbon is no activist, he’s the sellout, the way he proves America is still a nation of white supremacy despite a black president is by segregating the local buses and schools, literally redlining the city in, and owning a slave. If you’re thinking to yourself that this seems too ridiculous or cartoonish, you’re not wrong, but Beatty isn’t banking on you being wrong. With every ridiculous undertaking Bonbon embarks on the idea that America can simply sweep centuries of oppression under the rug becomes the more ridiculous premise.

Bonbon’s motive for rubbing America’s nose in its egregious acts is not even a righteous one, it’s more simple; get Dickens back on the map. Dickens was his ‘hood’ in California and it was so gentrified and resettled by surrounding fancy neighborhoods that it eventually lost its name and standing as a city. The idea here is that America isn’t post-racial, it just hides its ghettos (I’ll likely never hear the words “Detroit is coming back”quite the same way). The racism comes naturally; people respect the segregation on the buss and in the schools (graduation rates are up/violent crime is down), the literal red line in the city give them a sense of spacial identity, and even slavery is amicable. The ease with which America can slip back into these institutions is proof that it hasn’t moved past race, was indeed designed to function on the very idea of racial supremacy. The resulting read is somehow both hilarious and eye opening.

Beatty employs satire at an important time. It is important to lampoon the idea that because we have a black president we are living in a post racial society. It is especially so, given that his predecessor has the full endorsement of the KKK and refused to rent property to black people. This ridiculous time calls for over the top examples and Beatty has the chops to do it. All the usual praise of the great satirists apply: he is biting, deep, funny, and rhythmic. Yet Beatty also rights with an essence that has been absent since Twain himself. America has potentially never needed a racial satirist more than in our coming age of Trump. Ditch your copy of Puddin’ Head Wilson or Huck Finn, pick up The Sellout now.