The Age of Rage: An Occupied Response.

On November 10th, 2010, angry student protesters stormed the headquarter of the Conservative Party, 30 Millbank, in violent clashes with the police. This August saw London, Manchester, and other cities in the UK swept by rioting and looting, and yet more violent clashes with the police. Now, in the last few months, flash-points of conflict between protesters and the police as the occupy movement declines to be silenced by the governments of various countries, states and provinces. But, it's not just the students, the looters, or the occupy protesters that are angry, nor even just the police in their often brutal responses. Onlookers are angry too.

Some of these onlookers rain venom on the bankers and politicians: an outrage that we have to bail out the banks, they say. Others are vitriolic in their criticisms of the looters: feral youths engaging in wanton criminality - lock them up, they say. And still more scoff and spit at the protesters: these smelly scroungers need to get a job and stop living off the state, or, if they have a job, they should just shut the fuck up and work like the rest of us. Many private sector workers with pensions are furious with public sector workers for striking to save their pension schemes: we pay for your pensions but can't afford our own - you need to take a hit like the rest of us and stop holding the country to ransom, they say. Public sector workers fume in return: yeah, let's just compare how much more you get for doing the same job I do - then we'll talk about what's fair.

When the cake gets smaller, we're all reduced to fighting over the crumbs.

Well, not all of us, just the majority of us. A few have all the cake they can dream of.

And the majority of us are, then, angry; but more than this, we are angry at each other. We don't just get angry at those who have far more cake than we'll ever see, we get angry at each other. We want more crumbs than the other guy.

So, what to do?

We'll the Buddhist would say reduce your desires, so that you have less need to be angry about the things you haven't got. And try to be grateful for what you have got. Indeed, statistics show that violent unrest and a sense of entitlement are not related to poverty per se but perceived highly unequal distribution of wealth. We are particularly enraged when we perceive a clear gap between what I have and what others have. So, the Buddhist would say stop wanting. That way you won't be angry when you see how much others have compared to you. You'll just be happy with what you've got.


Now, that's all fine and well if you're a monk in a monastery, and you know you'll have fellow monks to take care of you when you're old. Or if you're in your 20s, with a part-time job, with mommy and daddy to fall back on if times get hard. But, what if you're a single man or woman in his 30s or 40s who's thinking, what happens to me when I'm 70 and can't work anymore? I can't afford a private pension on my current salary. I don't have kids who'll take care of me. I can't even afford to buy a house! I can only afford to get from week to week. What then? This isn't just about having desires, this is about feeling safe and secure in our old age, and having the hope that we can move forward. And none of us can thrive, emotionally or socially, without a basic degree of security regarding food and shelter. Thing is, many of us are suddenly realising that despite being in full-time jobs, such basic levels of security are clearly lacking. Even the idea that those who are 20 or 30 now we'll get a basic state pension when they retire is uncertain.

Not surpising then: we're afraid. And yet, we've done what we were told was required of us. We've kept within the law, we've worked hard, we've done our part. And yet, our basic needs might not be met when we are vulnerable. That makes people angry. Scared, and very, very angry. After all, resentment is one of the most powerful motivators. As is fear.

So, having less desires is not the antidote to this collective rage. So, what then?

Well, the occupy movement, on the back of revolutionary new ways to communicate such as twitter and mobile phones, has become something of a network of "anger hubs", where individual rage can collate, build, network, learn, collectivise and empower itself. Basically, the occupy movement sends the message out to all those who are angry: you have a right to be angry - indeed, if you're not angry, you're either not paying attention, or you one of the few, super rich benefactors of the current capitalist model, the notorious "1%". The occupy movement validates anger.

And indeed, the occupy movement has attracted many people from widely diverse backgrounds: the homeless, public sector workers, small business owners, students, social workers, counsellors, the unemployed, the disabled, lawyers, nurses, and many more. All are angry. But, and perhaps not unsurprisingly given the above, the occupy movement has attracted lots of angry criticism too. They're a blight on the city, aesthetically unpleasing to the eye. They're wasters without jobs who should stop indulging their sense of entitlement, and just get a job. They're professional protesters, who have nothing better to do than spark trouble. Or they're not real protesters, because they go home at night and get up for work the next day. Most recently, they're just smelly hippies who need a bath. Beneath all this criticisms, we inevitably sense anger.

We're angry, because we're forced to fight over crumbs.

What the occupy movement suggests, however, is that we shouldn't have to fight over crumbs. The fact is there is plenty for everyone, it's just the case that the few have far more than the rest of us, who in turn don't have enough to feel secure. And that is what makes for the anger we're seeing, not just on the side of the occupiers, but even those who angrily criticise the occupiers. The primal emotion is not anger, perhaps. Perhaps it's fear: I don't have enough, so you better shut the fuck up asking for more, because it might just come out of my pocket. No wonder many then are happy to see police brutality exacted on people fighting for their future. If they don't get more, I'm more likely to keep getting the crumbs I get.  

And that is what makes me angry. I'm angry because it simply doesn't have to be this way. There are multi-billionaires who'll tell you that anyone can be a billionaire, but that's just bullshit, put there to make you feel that it's your fault for not having enough money, even if you're a single mom who struggles to afford child-care if she wants to get an entry level job and work her way up - she's stuck; even if you're a student who comes out of college with £35,000 of debts to pay off and finds he can only get a job in Tescos, stacking shelves for free, with no guarantee of a job at the end. That makes me angry, and rightly so. Money is being siphoned away from the majority of us who are struggling to get by, the 99%, only to line the pockets of those who already have far more than they, or even their kids, will ever need. And at the heart of it, a banking system designed to make money less valuable and products more expensive so it can cash in on interest when people get credit to buy the things they need to survive securely.

It's not right. And in a system that is not just, there is bound to be anger. This anger will surface in many ways: looting, protesting, striking, even trolling. They're all manifestations of resentment, and a deeper fear that there's not enough to go around. But there is enough to go around, it's just that the few have far, far more than the rest of us can even imagine.

The occupy movement makes it clear, then, that until that gap in wealth is reduced, there can be no peace in this, or any other country.

Is a Capitalist Reformation Possible?

In the last two years we've had corporate tax evasion; we've had expenses scandals; we've had students become the next generation of designated debt-bearers as universities embrace business models, tripling fees; we've had the threat of the privatisation of the NHS; we've had the banking crisis, where tax payers bail out banks that print money and keep it in their own vaults, crippling growth; we've had massive cuts across the public sector in order to prop up a flailing financial market, thrashing in the history of its own excesses; but, more important than all this, we've had a movement determined to repeatedly highlight all these disturbing truths, to connect them and emphasise them, to make meaning from them. Thanks in large part to the occupy movement capitalism is currently under the spotlight, surgically pinned in stark vivisection.

The question arises, then, as we gawp at capitalism close up, its guts on show for all to see: can such an organism provide for society in general, or is it by nature designed to provide for the few, by robbing the many?

Clearly, capitalism has become something monstrous, destructive, but for some, it hasn't always been this way.

For some, like Richard Branson, capitalism used to be benevolent:

"I truly believe that capitalism was created to help people live better lives, but sadly over the years it has lost its way a bit. The short-term focus on profit has driven most businesses to forget about the important long-term role they have in taking care of people and the planet."

Richard Branson believes that it is possible for capitalism to once again work for the people, but can we believe such a statement? Has capitalism lost our trust? Can capitalism reform itself? If it can, how? And if it can't, what then? Are there even any other viable options? Have we created a monster that now seeks to destroy society? Have we lost control? Or can we rein in this beast, domesticate it, so that it serves all of us, and not just the few?

The occupy movement, it seems to me, is quite understandably split on this issue. Some are angry that the movement has been repeatedly addressed as an "anti-capitalist movement" when in fact no such consensus has been reached; many seek to merely regulate capitalism, as opposed to seeking its total dismantlement. What it's total dismantlement would look like, as a working model, remains to be adequately detailed. For sure, the occupy movement is experiencing its own dialectic on this issue. For others to expect unity here is not only unrealistic, it's unhelpful. The question needs to be explored thoroughly. 

The question "can capitalism be reformed?" is an incredibly important question, because if the answer is yes, then perhaps we could start from there and seek to regulate, or better still, convince businesses to freely, willingly think beyond mere profit. If Richard Branson is being genuine and not just indulging the "ethical" market, like the Co-Operative Bank has done, then perhaps there is hope for capitalism. Perhaps it can find its soul; but that remains to be seen. And if the answer is no, if it becomes apparent that capitalism cannot be reformed, what then? Can it be dismantled? Can it be replaced? And if so, replaced by what, and by what means? Government policy? Revolution?

These questions and more are what now fills the minds of the many, as we collectively peer into the pulsing innards of this beast called capitalism, lying splayed in vivisection upon the operating table. Standing around this creature, studying it, we are faced with the question: what kind of animal is capitalism? Can it be tamed, and if not, can it be terminated?

Metaphor for use by the Occupy Movement

It doesn't have to be a race to the bottom:

Imagine a multi-story building. On each floor there's the same amount of people, but as you get higher in the building each floor has more food, and it's better quality. So, for example, people on the 20th floor have plenty of food, they never run out, and it's pretty good quality. On the top floor, you've got highly luxurious food, and they've so much they're throwing buckets of it away everyday.

Now, on the 5th floor, there's not really enough food, so everyone is kind of fighting for their share, and even then, it's pretty crap quality. People below the 5th are pretty much hungry all the time. Get the picture?

Now, imagine you found yourself on the 4th floor. Of course, you want to be, you know, up there.

But, here's the thing. Instead of saying, 'Hey, why don't people on the top floor share all the food they don't need?' or even 'Hey, the people on the top floor have way more than us!' many people actually say 'That guy on the 5th floor is struggling, but hell, he's got more than me." They say this because if they work in the private sector the other guy has a state pension! Or, if they work in the public sector, they other guy gets paid more for doing the same job. So, on both sides, they say about they other guy (or gal) 'He should be down here with me, with the rest of us on the 4th floor.'

Is that smart?

I don't think so; because the folks on the top floor see all this in-fighting and laugh at such divisiveness. And they stoke the petty resentments, they fuel the division between public and private sector. After all, the more in-fighting there is, the less united people are against them.







[Post Script

The Occupy Movement represents a group of people on the lower floors, united against those on or near the top floor. They're not interested in petty squabbles between groups on the lowest floors, whether it's worse, for example, to be paid less, and get a heavily cut pension, or to be paid more and have no pension at all. They want to form a united front, the 99% of people forced to struggle on scraps and credit, against the 1% who have far more than they need and control the assets you live in (homes) and on (businesses and banks).]