Democracy in Power with Sandeep Vaheesan

We speak with Sandeep Vaheesan, legal director at the Open Markets Institute, about his forthcoming book, Democracy in Power: A History of Electrification in the United States (University of Chicago Press, 2024). Democracy in Power is a highly detailed work of political and institutional history that recounts the struggle over electric power generation in the United States. It is also an agile experiment in heterodox economic and legal theory, which treats both political and electric power as contestable and malleable public goods. 

For Vaheesan, historical battles over electrification in the U.S. remind us that today’s green transition presents new opportunities for democratic participation and institution building. “Elected and other public officials in the United States who express a commitment to combating climate change … face a choice,” he writes, “decarbonize and maintain oligarchy or decarbonize and build democracy. Even as the net-­zero pledge has become a rallying cry in the fight against climate change, it should raise concerns for those committed to democracy.” 

During our conversation, Vaheesan lays bare the tragedy of “dirty power,” the concentration of inordinate powers to shape the global climate into increasingly fewer and usually unaccountable private hands. At the same time, he charts a clear and hopeful path for a just and democratic transition powered by clean and green energy. 

What is vital for this project, Vaheesan insists, is to expressly politicize and reshape the present monetary order in a manner that serves democratic rather than oligarchic control and interests. 

Please preorder Democracy in Power today through the University of Chicago Press website.

For more on this topic, see our previous interview with Vaheesan on the Superstructure podcast.

Visit our Patreon page here: https://www.patreon.com/MoLsuperstructure

Music by Nahneen Kula: www.nahneenkula.com

Transcript

Billy Saas:  Sandeep Vaheesan welcome to Money on the Left.

Sandeep Vaheesan:  Thanks so much for having me.

Billy Saas:  Now, this is not your first time in our podcast feed. You were previously on Superstructure talking about some of your work with Scott Ferguson. But this is your first time on Money on the Left. And we’re excited to have you on the day of the publication of your piece in The New Republic, titled “The Best Way To Fight Heat Waves and Outages is to Green the Grid.” We’re here also to talk about your exciting book that is due out in December. But before we get into that, and I think this piece you have in The New Republic, today is a great way to get into that. Let’s contextualize our conversation. It’s probably the hottest summer on record. Thousands of people across the globe are dying as you outline and make so vivid in your piece for today. We need to green the grid. This piece that you have out today, what’s its argument and how did you come to write it?

Sandeep Vaheesan:  Yeah, so as you say, we are living through the hottest summer on record, I believe, certainly in the northern hemisphere and 1000s have died around the world. Heat waves have rolled across the country. I feel like here in Washington, DC we’re in our third heatwave right now. It was 101 degrees yesterday, which even by our standards is very hot. This is a sign of global climate change. Heat waves aren’t new, but they’re certainly getting more frequent and more intense. It’s just a reminder that we need to take climate change seriously and view it as not just a threat but an existential threat to humanity everywhere. One critical front in the fight against climate change is decarbonizing the power sector, which in most countries around the world is either the biggest or second biggest emitter of greenhouse gasses. Because coal, natural gas, and oil are burned to generate electricity. That means a lot of carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gasses. Not only is the power sector contributing to the problem, it’s actually being hurt by the problem. If you look at what’s happened in the Gulf Coast, you have a very early arrival of hurricane Beryl. Usually we don’t see such storms until late this month, or August. That’s another sign of accelerating climate change. The power system in Houston was hit rather hard by the storm. There are a number of reasons to believe that the utility was underprepared despite ample warning that it wouldn’t be able to handle such a storm, which is certainly not a big storm by standards of the Gulf Coast, but nonetheless a powerful storm. Then if you look outside across the West, you have large reservoirs like Lake Mead that have lower water levels than they did 30 or 40 years ago because of warmer temperatures, less precipitation. So the power sector is contributing to the problem, and then also being hurt by it. Decarbonizing power is one of the most important things we have to do here in the United States and around the world. And we’re taking steps toward it. The Congress passed the inflation Reduction Act in 2022 that might ultimately result in about a trillion dollars in spending on clean energy and energy efficiency and system hardening projects. It’s a substantial outlay. But nonetheless an insufficient outlay. Careful modelers of the energy system have found that, yes, the IRA is better than the status quo, but it still will not get us to net zero, let alone carbon zero. So in my piece, I argue that we need to think more ambitiously, think more radically. Instead of trying to cajole and bribe the private sector, into building more wind, solar, and other zero carbon power, we should look to our historical past precedents, like public power, and actually just do it ourselves. Why not have our elected government build large scale clean energy projects, much like how it did in the 30s, 40s, and 50s by constructing hydroelectric dams on rivers like the Columbia, the Tennessee? The project had limitations, serious shortcomings, but it’s a template on which we can build.

Scott Ferguson:  This is actually a great time to pivot to your book. But before we do so, maybe you can tell our listeners who are not familiar with you and your work a little bit about your professional background? What are your areas of training and expertise, and where are you currently working and things like that?

Sandeep Vaheesan:  Yeah, so I’m the Legal Director at the Open Markets Institute, which is an anti-monopoly research and advocacy group based in Washington DC. As my title suggests, I’m a lawyer by training. Before coming to the Open Markets Institute, I worked at the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, but most of my work has been focused on antitrust and public utility regulation. I use the term anti-monopoly and people wonder, well, what does that mean? I think it’s certainly more than just the latest rebrand of antitrust. It’s more than just progressive antitrust. It also encompasses fields like public utility regulation, consumer protection, and corporate governance. Certainly the aspiration of my colleagues and I and historical anti monopolists was to build a more fair and democratic economy where power is exercised by the multiracial many, rather than the overwhelmingly white and male few.

Scott Ferguson:  Do you have an origin story of how you became specifically as an antitrust legal expert and lawyer, how you became specifically interested in questions of power?

Sandeep Vaheesan:  Ah, it’s been a long and often slow process of, I would say, steady radicalization. So I was in law school in 2008, when the Global Financial Crisis happened. The collapse of Lehman Brothers was September 15, 2008. I had just started my second year in law school, and I do view that fall as a kind of turning point in my intellectual and political trajectory. My law school assembled this group of experts to tell us curious, but mostly uninformed students what’s going on, what’s going to happen next. They brought together an economist, a business school professor, and a law professor to talk about why Lehman collapsed, why we were in the midst of this greatest crisis since the 1930s. I remember being struck at the time by how utterly out of his depth the economist was. The economist was at a loss for words. Like “I don’t understand what’s happening, this doesn’t really fit within any of my models. I don’t know what to say.” He kind of hand-waived at maybe irresponsible promotion of homeownership by the federal government, maybe people had tricked banks into giving them credit that they couldn’t afford to repay. The standard right wing explanation of the crisis. The Business School professor, by contrast, was somewhat more informed and did have a sense of the predation  that had happened in the mortgage industry in the prior five years. The law professor had a clearer sense of why Lehman collapsed, and why we were in the midst of this great crisis, that we have this thing called mortgage backed securities, we have a system where banks want to originate and package and sell as many mortgages as possible, that produced a wave of speculative and irresponsible lending. People got mortgages that they couldn’t repay. And once you have a critical mass of homeowners who can’t repay their loans, you have a crisis. And so for me, that was very much a turning point where I realized the economics I had been taught as an undergrad actually had very little correspondence to how the world worked. It was a very sanitized and impoverished view of the world, really no engagement with the institutional details. As you’ve mentioned, no understanding or awareness of the idea that there is power in the world, that certain actors or individuals make important decisions, and, in a sense, make the rest of us objects of their wishes. So for me, 2008 was really a turning point. After that, I realized, as a lawyer, I’m actually equipped with some of the intellectual skills to understand the world because if you look at many lawyers, they have a deep intellectual inferiority complex. Especially with respect to economists. They feel like economists know math, they know how to crunch numbers. They seem really prestigious. lawyers aren’t that. But after 2008, I realized, okay, actually the lawyers have a better sense of what’s going on, because we actually, at least imperfectly, know the rules of the game, and their problems. I had the good fortune of having a few very good professors during my three years of law school who brought a critical perspective, a legal realist perspective. Today, we might call it an LPE perspective. They  said very early on, law in large measure is politics by other means, and we shouldn’t lose sight of that.

Scott Ferguson:  So you answered the question in terms of our understanding of power as in political power, which is totally legitimate. But I was actually asking how you got interested in electricity, right? Yeah, that’s great. I mean, because in your work, both, both understandings of power are always resonant in multiple ways. And one can’t think about the electric grid, for example, and its history and its contestation and its future without thinking about political power. So what turned you toward the electric grid, the history and politics of the electric grid?

Sandeep Vaheesan:  Yeah, so sorry for that long winded answer to that distinct question.

Scott Ferguson:  No, it’s great.

Sandeep Vaheesan:  Yeah, I feel fortunate to have been exposed to the power industry and relevant regulatory and governance questions at a very young age. My first job out of college was working at an economic consulting firm here in DC that provided regulatory and litigation support to federal, state agencies, as well as some private corporations involved in antitrust litigation, involving rake cases, involved in mergers and acquisitions. I’ll be honest, sometimes this firm was on the right side of things. And other times we were helping further consolidate the power sector. But it was a very educational experience. Most of the work I did involved, this is going back way in time, the California electricity crisis in 2000 and 2001, where infamously Enron as well as a number of power companies, rigged the market, created an artificial shortage of electricity in California, that led to sky high rates and rolling blackouts across the state. That crisis spawned a series of regulatory proceedings before the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission to claw back some of that money that had been illegally obtained by Enron and firms like AES, Dynegy and Mirant. If you’re a power sector follower, those will be familiar names to you. And I realized this was a sector that was not only essential, can’t imagine modern life without reliable, affordable electricity, but it was also in the midst of great institutional restructuring. So traditionally, power has been a classic natural monopoly provided by a vertically integrated firm. Starting in the late 1970s, neoliberals thought, why don’t we try to make the power sector or at least portions of it competitive. And so I got to be involved in some of these matters up close and appreciate the changes that were happening. And that instilled in me, sort of lasting interest in the sector. How do we design the market or governance system in a way that we have reliable, affordable, and of course, clean power, and ever since then, I’ve had the good fortune of working on our industry questions off and on. Sometimes going a few years without touching it, but invariably coming back to it in some capacity or another. And I’m not an engineer, I have no background in engineering. And I realized this was an area where the debates are dominated by neoclassical economists and electrical engineers. It makes sense that the engineers are involved like this is a complex system. I still don’t fully understand the physics, but you want to have technicians involved in designing the power industry. The neoclassical economist’s role, that’s more debatable, arguably contributed some useful ideas, but they’ve also produced a lot of very questionable ideas that have been implemented to our collective detriment. After about five or 10 years, I think I had the intellectual sort of self confidence to understand that okay, maybe as a lawyer, I have something to add here. Yes. I don’t know physics as well as engineers do. I don’t know the models that economists do. But I do know, and I’m very curious about the institutional arrangements here. And that gives me a comparative advantage. I know how to interpret a statute or regulation and read legislative history. Those are things that most economists and engineers either don’t do or are not interested in doing.

Billy Saas:  There are a bunch of places in the book, which we’ve had the pleasure of previewing. The name of that book, again, is Democracy in Power: A History of Electrification in the United States. But the power power, electricity and electrification, energy and, and political power overlap. There’s a metaphor of dirty power, right, the continued dominance of dirty power. I would like to get your meeting on that and see if that’s a playful place. So dirty power as in the power industry that we have today, the private utilities that prevail in the United States are notoriously committed to in most if not all cases, means of energy production that are harmful to the environment. They also come by this power in some not so straightforward ways that might be considered dirty. Is this dirty power that is enjoyed and continues to dominate by the majority of power companies, is this come by honestly, in your estimation, or is it a story of corruption?

Sandeep Vaheesan:  Both, I would say. Something I should have mentioned at the outset is in the United States, we actually have extraordinary institutional diversity in the power sector. So most people in this country are served by what are called investor-owned utilities. So these are private power companies that distribute power, they own the power lines and the poles that run through our homes. In many cases, they also own and operate the high voltage transmission system. These are the tall steel pylons that you probably see on a fairly regular basis. And then going further back also, the power plants that generate power, whether using coal or zero carbon means like wind and solar. So these investor-owned utilities are, at least in part regulated by state and federal agencies. They are classic public utilities, they have to serve all comers. They have to offer just and reasonable rates, but in exchange, they’re granted either de jure or de facto exclusivity over a territory. There’s a recognition that the technical features of this industry favor scale. Conventional business competition is not going to protect the public, it actually won’t allow the businesses to persist as going concerns, so we’re going to have this basic bargain where the firms get a monopoly. In exchange, they have a duty to serve everyone in charge only just and reasonable rates. Most of us, about 70 to 75% of us, get our power from one of these companies, investor owned utilities or IOUs. The remaining 25% get their electricity from publicly owned utilities. So the city of Los Angeles is served by a public agency called the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power. There are 1000s of publicly owned utilities like LADWP. LADWP happens to be the largest one. They serve about 10% to 12% of the population and the remainder are served by rural electric cooperatives, which are nonprofit institutions that are owned and controlled by the customers that they serve. My book looks at how we get this type of institutional diversity? What is the origin story? Because I suspect most people don’t realize that public and corporate ownership models are so common. To the extent that the thing about public ownership, it’s often considered some foreign novelty. It’s like Scandinavia has some public ownership. Other parts of Western Europe have a little bit but, here in the capitalist United States, that’s not our thing. But actually, if you look at the power sector, public and cooperative ownership are really important. Getting to the question of dirty power. How did we get a grid that is still heavily dependent on fossil fuels? Some of it is through underhanded means. The power sector has been instrumental in sowing doubt about climate science, funding research that says, well, global warming is not the product of human activity, it’s part of the long climatic cycle where the earth cools for a period and warms for a period that has nothing to do with what we are collectively doing. So they’ve funded some of that research. They’ve bought regulatory and legislative attempts to restrict greenhouse gas emissions restrict the use of fossil fuels quite aggressively. Big oil gets a lot of the attention, but power companies have also been key players in sowing doubt about climate science, and then second, fighting public attempts to do anything about it. That’s the sort of dirty side of it. But if you look further back, much of the 20th century progressive project was about electrifying society, making electricity cheap, abundant, and reliable. Oftentimes, that meant public support for fossil fuel extraction and consumption. The view that, well, we have a lot of coal, we can burn it to produce cheap electricity that will help us make electricity truly universal. So some of it does involve classic corporate skullduggery, but a lot of it also reflects a public commitment to electrify living in the United States. For much of the 20th century, that meant not just building hydroelectric dams that produce electricity without generating greenhouse gasses, but also supporting fossil fuel generated power.

Scott Ferguson:  I’d like to give our listeners a little bit of a sense of the ambitious structure and scope of the book, at least as I’ve been tracking it and as I’ve been working through the preview copy that you made available to us, very generously. There’s three parts to this book that you’ve titled, “Past”, “Present”, and “Promise”. I like “promise” rather than “future”.

Sandeep Vaheesan:  It’s alliterative.

Scott Ferguson:  Yes, right. It’s alliterative. Before we started recording, I called your book a tour de force. I think it’s a tour de force for a number of reasons. But I think one of the reasons is because it’s very clearly written, it’s very straightforwardly written, very accessible, but you do switch between what we might think of as rhetorical genres, or even disciplinary modes of writing. So in the first part of your book, you’re really in the weeds and really telling us about the rise of electrification in the first half of the 20th century, really concentrating on the 20s and the 30s and the 40s, and really highlighting a lot of the contestation that starts in the 20s and really heats up, so to speak, during the New Deal. You take that on with painstaking detail, and I’d like to get into some of that. But then at the same time, this is also a work of legal theory, arguably political theory, also even monetary theory, and it’s a proposal. It’s a proposal for how do we move forward? And how do we structure our governance? How do we structure our infrastructures? How do we legally put together a regime that’s going to usher in a green transition that isn’t just private, for profit, and unjust but is actually serving democracy at the same time. So that’s my pitch for your whole book, and I think everybody should go out and buy it. Pre-order it now. But maybe we can, from that kind of larger macro picture. If you want to comment on that, if I’ve gotten something off, you can let me know. But maybe we can pivot from that macro picture into a little taste of the history that you outline in the first few chapters. What’s the state of the country in the teens and the 20s? And when it comes to electrification, what are the needs? What are some of the fault lines of contestation?

Sandeep Vaheesan:  First, I should say that’s a very accurate and generous overview of the book. So the first third is traditional history, admittedly not written by a historian but a historically-curious lawyer. The middle third is really critique looking at the institutional arrangements we have right now, doing my best to honestly assess what works well, what doesn’t work so well. The last third is theory and construction; my attempt to build castles in the sky and say, this is what a small-d democratic and green power system should look like. So let’s start with the first third. So chapter one opens with life in the United States in the 1920s, especially life in the countryside. This might be new to many of your listeners, but at the time, the United States was approximately 50% urban 50% rural. I think the 1920 census was the first time that more Americans lived in cities than in rural areas. It was something like 53%-47%. So roughly split, which is very different from today, where I believe more than 85% or even 90% of people live in metropolitan areas, or other built up communities. At the time, there was a major economic, social, and technological divide between cities and rural areas. Maybe the single most visible manifestation of that was in cities, especially by the mid 1920s. Most people, not just wealthy people, had electricity in their homes. So they have lights, they have a radio, they might have had a few small appliances. They didn’t necessarily have the appliances we take for granted today. In the words of people like Ronald Toby and Jay Brigham, they had electrified homes they did not have electrically modernized homes. That’s an important distinction, which we can revisit in a bit. So there’s electricity in cities. The countryside, by contrast, most people did not have power. So in the mid 1920s, fewer than one in 10 farmers in the United States had electricity. So in many ways, life in the countryside was pre modern. No electricity meant no running water, no indoor plumbing, no toilets, no refrigerators, no washing machines, no electric lights. People relied on things like privies, washing clothes by hand, which was a backbreaking, laborious exercise done almost exclusively by women, and relied on kerosene lamps and candles for lighting. So there was a profound difference between life on a farm, or most farms, and working in middle class life in cities. This was a major political cause at the time. People were asking well, how do we bring electricity to the countryside? There was this Jeffersonian vision informing a lot of the politics, the idea that we needed a healthy countryside not just for instrumental reasons. We need abundant and affordable food, but there’s something noble and virtuous about farming and country life. So this was a, broadly speaking, bipartisan political concern both progressives, moderates and conservatives. I guess that three groups, not two, recognized this as a serious political problem and something had to be done about it. Part of making rural life attractive was extending electric service to everyone who lives in the countryside. There was a real fear that if this technological backwardness continued that everyone living in the countryside would move to the cities, and you’d see rapid depopulation of the countryside. That ultimately did happen, but for other reasons. There’s belief that to really maintain the American character we needed to ensure the vibrancy and dynamism of life in rural areas. So that brings me to the question of why weren’t these places being served by power companies? The reason shouldn’t come as a surprise. So compared to cities, rural areas tend to be fairly sparsely populated. So if a power company built a one mile distribution line in the city, they might be able to serve 400 or 500 customers. In a suburban area, they might be able to serve 30 or 40 customers. But if you go out into the countryside, they might be able to serve three or fewer customers. So rural electrification meant substantial upfront costs to serve fairly few people. Second, there was a deep skepticism that people living in rural areas would actually use electricity, there was a sense of elitism that rural Americans were just hopelessly backward. They wouldn’t actually use modern technologies. That’s not actually true. Cars were actually more common in the countryside than in cities for much of the 1920s. So there was a ready adoption of new technology on their terms. But when it came to electricity, power companies and their executives thought there’s just no demand for power. We’re not going to focus on them. Instead, we’re going to focus most of our efforts on the cities and especially on industrial customers. So a lot of industries are switching over from steam to electric power, because they feel electricity is cleaner, it doesn’t generate any smoke or pollution, where it’s consumed and offers a lot more operational flexibility than steam engines do. So what many people, including in Congress, are saying is that we actually need a greater system of public provisioning of power. Private power is motivated by profit considerations. They’re only going to serve customers in markets that are likely to offer near term payoffs. Capital is impatient, so to speak. We can talk a little bit more about this. At the time, the private power industry was dominated by these large holding companies that had been formed by various financiers and executives, and these holding companies were very much rooted in the idea that this system exists to make money, make lots of money very quickly, using the magic of debt and leverage. So this short term financial orientation was in clear conflict with a recognized public and social need to extend affordable universal power service to everyone.

Billy Saas:  Really quickly right there, would it be fair to draw an analogy with contemporary efforts to bring broadband to rural communities? How much does that sort of movement or effort resemble what you’re talking about here? The recognition nationally, federally, that it’s important that we have reliable internet connection for folks in rural communities, but you also have the actors who are like, well, where’s the money in that? Is that a fair kind of comparison?

Sandeep Vaheesan:  Yeah, I think the parallels are quite strong. At the time, electricity was becoming a necessity. It was hard to participate in modern life without electricity. I think we’re certainly at that stage with broadband today. But the relevant private actors, as you note, don’t view enough short term private potential to do the necessary work upfront. Extend fiber optic network into rural areas. Today, we built distribution lines into the countryside 100 years ago.

Billy Saas:  And sometimes the bigger companies like Google will take on pet projects and abandon them mid-stream, right?

Sandeep Vaheesan:  Right. That’s a good example. So you’ll see companies try to position themselves as more responsible by saying, oh, here’s Google Fiber, we’re extending it into this low income neighborhood or extending it into, I don’t know if they’ve actually done this, but extending it into more sparsely populated areas. Similarly, 100 years ago, you had some private power companies pursuing these model projects. They’ll extend electric service into a village or town and say, look at what we’re doing. We’re teaching farmers how to use power. We’ve undertaken all these demonstration projects. And to be honest, they did something. The rates of rural electrification did go up a little bit in the 1920s. Richard Hirsch wrote a book, I believe in 2022, about this. I think he overcorrects, I think he gives them too much credit for what they did. But there were some attempts to build power lines to serve farmers. But the progress was very modest, and there were estimates saying that if we continue at this trajectory, it might take another 50 or 100 years to serve even half the population of the countryside. So it was happening at a glacial pace. So a number of people, ordinary people, elected officials, ultimately, the President himself in Franklin D. Roosevelt said, we can’t trust private capital to build power systems to serve everyone. So we will need a system of aggressive public provisioning to make electricity affordable and universal. A lot of these fights actually started in the 1920s. We commonly see this tendency among even informed lawyers and scholars to treat the New Deal as happening on a blank slate. So Roosevelt’s elected in 1932, and they just go on this orgy of experimentation. There was a great deal of experimentation, to be sure, but a lot of ideas had been developed in previous decades. As bleak and conservative as the 1920s were, in many ways, supporters of public power did make important advances. For example, Congress authorized the construction of the Hoover Dam in 1927, which at the time was the largest hydroelectric project, and I believe the tallest dam in the world. This happened during the Coolidge administration, Calvin Coolidge famous for his commitment to fiscal austerity, a minimalist national government. In spite of that, he signed this bill into law in 1927. The federal government started building this giant dam on the Colorado River. So you had a number of precedents established already in the 1920s. So the New Dealers weren’t really building from scratch, but rather expanding and improving what had been done in prior decades.

Billy Saas:  So it strikes me that there were ideas and proposals on hand in the 1920s that became, as you’re describing, became activated or empowered later. In your book, I want to do some more of this history. But I’m very excited about the promise portion. Specifically, we’re now in the 2020s. You have some ideas about how we might remedy things. Is the idea here to have some proposals on hand until such time that we’re ready to activate them? Or do you feel like you are intervening with this book into discourses and into a political scene where some of these actions could be taken, and maybe are already being taken now?

Sandeep Vaheesan:  I’d say both. So part of this book is trying to sketch out a different and better view of organizing the power system, drawing on institutional models we already have in parts of the country. I don’t have any illusions about our present political moment. I can’t imagine anyone reading the last third of my book in Congress and just say, we’re going to make this law. I imagined there are a few people in Congress who would be interested and intrigued by it. But I can’t imagine this becoming national legislation in the near future. So there is a certain utopian aspect to what I’m saying. At the same time, public power is experiencing a bit of a renaissance. There is energy and excitement around public power. Last November, the state of Maine had a referendum on whether to take over its two investor owned utilities and operate them as consumer run utilities. The referendum failed. I think the final vote was something like 70% to 30% against a public takeover. But the fact that this even got on the ballot is a testament to discontent with the status quo and a real desire to do something very different. Maine isn’t an aberration. We’ve seen similar public power fights in cities across the country. Boulder, Colorado spent about 10 years trying to take over its investor owned utility. As in Maine, it wasn’t successful. Minneapolis had a similar fight. Not successful with that as well. So there’s interest and there are people on the ground organizing and fighting for public ownership and operation of power systems. All the fights haven’t been defeats. That’s one thing I should say. So in 2023, the New York legislature, as part of the budget deal, gave the state owned New York Power Authority the ability to build utility scale, renewable power projects. It’s called the Build Public Renewables Act or BPRA. The New York Power Authority has been in existence for almost 100 years. It was formed when FDR was governor of the state, but it didn’t have the power to build large wind farms or large solar arrays. Now it does have that, and that’s a significant advance. That’s a big win for public power. You have the state agency that has the power now to build large wind farms and help the state meet its climate goals. I think that’s something that could be replicated in other states. Texas and South Carolina also have similar publicly owned power generation companies. I’m less hopeful about BPRA in those two places, but that’s something that could happen in the next five or 10 years. The Inflation Reduction Act, which is very much a mixed bag, does have a pot of money for publicly owned and cooperative utilities. The BPRA partly succeeded because its sponsors in New York could tell their more skeptical or agnostic colleagues that they have a new pot of federal money available that is just sitting there waiting to be spent, and we can either take advantage of that, or we can continue to sit on our hands. So I think the IRA will actually help some of these public power fights going forward. We’re still in the very early stages. But I think we could be on the cusp of, by my estimate, the third big wave of public power in the United States.

Scott Ferguson:  You also point out that some of these fights, even if they fail to municipalize or enact a full public takeover of these private plants, nevertheless, put a kind of pressure on the private industry. You’ve suggested that the franchise agreements that come out of some of these fights are shorter, and that there are more demands for public accountability that have arisen as a result of these contests.

Sandeep Vaheesan:  That’s right. So even unsuccessful public takeovers can put the fear of God in some of these utilities and pressure them to do better on reliability rates and decarbonisation. That’s what we saw in Boulder. So the investor owned utility there, just called Xcel Energy, won the fight. They defeated the 10-year campaign for public power. But their new franchise agreement has far more conditions around decarbonisation than their old franchise agreement did and gives the city the authority to launch another public takeover attempt if they fail to meet these conditions. That’s a really critical aspect. Even unsuccessful public takeovers can have real social value and this goes back to an interesting historical point. Two months before he was elected in November of 1932, FDR made a campaign stop in Portland, Oregon to talk about his approach to the power sector. He had, in his characteristic style, been somewhat non committal on what he would do in general, but including on the power sector. He had done some nice things when he was governor, but his allies wanted him to make some firm commitments. Like what are you actually going to do if you become president? He talked about the value of yardstick competition where we have institutional rivalry between public and private and where public actors are constantly pressuring private actors to do better. At a bare minimum minimum, there’s a sort of publicity function where people who live in a community served by an investor owned utility might look at a neighboring town served by a municipal power agency and say, hey, the muni seems to be offering lower rates, better service and a greater commitment to energy efficiency and conservation. Why can we do that? So that publicity alone might spur the investor owned utility to do better. But FDR, to his credit, said pure publicity may not be enough in all cases. Some of these IOUs might just be so short sighted and arrogant, that no level of naming and shaming will get them to do better. He said, “under those circumstances, what we need is,” in his words, “a birch rod in the cupboard”, he used this old metaphor of corporal punishment to say that, yeah, some of these utilities are just so beyond redemption that the only thing we can do is to take them over and run them as public agencies. Having a credible threat is really an important part of regulating private power companies. They should always be looking over their shoulder and ask themselves, are we doing good enough to avoid a public takeover? If not, what do we need to do better in the coming year to mitigate that threat?

Billy Saas:  In your book, you say Congress should make the birch rod an effective option for communities across the nation. I’m picturing, you know, local elected councils with sticks chasing utility barons around the streets. I’m interested because it seems like another key thread of the history of your book is, like any good legal scholar, you tarry in definition, right, and travel in some good definitions. I think the definition and the history of the corporation and private property is salient in the story that you’re telling. I’m thinking about the birch rod, the public utility or the municipal utility competing against a private utility, and how much that is so much performance of a division that isn’t really real or isn’t really there between public and private utilities and corporations. I’m getting at specifically, what I think one of the things that your book does really well is raise the veil a bit on what a corporation is, and has been, and could be, again. The idea that originally, early on, corporations were sort of delegated by the state to perform certain functions. Over time that public mandate or publicity of the corporation disappeared and was suppressed. It seems to me like in those municipal private contests, that’s part of the performance and sustaining of that sort of Kabuki performance of private-public.

Sandeep Vaheesan:  Right.

Billy Saas:  So I’m just really, I guess, appreciating what you’re doing here and want to wind up in sort of asking you Do you think that the kind of franchise agreements that places like Boulder Colorado have ultimately arrived at and settled on after years of throwing money at the corporations who are in bad faith just stalling, stalling, stalling? The franchise agreement, is it sort of an end run back into getting charters back in the center of the corporate form of the investor owned utilities?

Sandeep Vaheesan:  Yeah, so I think the franchise is one of those powerful, latent regulatory instruments that’s the setting out there waiting to be picked up and used and used well. It’s related but somewhat distinct from the corporate charter question. The franchise is something any operator of social infrastructure needs. The power company digs up and buries power lines, or runs power lines along our public roads and highways. Without a franchise, that’s a large-scale trespass. They cannot do that without authority from the relevant local government. So they got these franchises that say, okay, you’re paying for rights of way to build and operate this infrastructure there. They’re getting an important privilege here, ordinary corporations can’t do that. Which should raise the question, Well, okay, we’re giving them a public privilege of great value, what are we getting forward in return? If you look at the early history of power service in the United States, you saw cities and towns trying to use the franchise as a regulatory instrument. They’ll say, Okay, we’re giving you a franchise, you can build power lines, operate power lines on our roads and sidewalks for the next 15 years, but in exchange for that, you can only charge Y cents per kilowatt hour, and you have to meet certain reliability measures. If you don’t do that, we can take legal action against you, including revoking the franchise and awarding it to someone else or revoking the franchise and converting the existing physical assets into public assets. One thing you learn quickly by studying the history of the power industry, it’s very hard to remain a believer in fictions like private versus public, economics versus political, market versus states. They’re just hopelessly intertwined. So in my book, I hope in the first four chapters, the reader comes away thinking, okay, the Econ 101 view of the world where there’s a clear separation between public and private, state and market doesn’t actually make any sense. The power industry shatters those fictions. Just to be safe, I have a whole chapter explaining why it’s really state construction all the way down. There is no such thing as private property without the state, maintaining the land record system, telling someone, you own the plot of land, and we’re ready to enforce your entitlement to that plot of land through coercive force. We will send the police to evict someone who’s trespassing. Same story with respect to contracts: there are no binding contracts without a court system that stands ready to enforce contractual promises. The corporation is its own special creation, given all these unique powers that were historically paired with public responsibilities and duties. But since the late 19th century, the privileges have remained, but they’ve been stripped of the duties of the responsibilities. This is a book in which I drew on the work of so many legal scholars, historians, political theorists, and I should shout out David Ciepley’s excellent work on the corporation, and how we need to rediscover the traditional understanding of the corporation because all those privileges are still there. The privatization of the corporation has succeeded as a rhetorical and political matter, but as a legal matter, corporations have important public benefits, and it’s critical to pair those with public duties and responsibilities again. Despite the law and econ takeover of this field, Ciepley has been saying no, no, no, we need to think about the corporation as an institution that is wholly dependent on state action. So I cite him, my work was very much enriched by his scholarship.

Billy Saas:  You talk about William Roy and the privatization of the corporate.

Sandeep Vaheesan:  Yes, William Roy was another influential scholar, in shaping my thinking and ultimately, this book. For listeners who aren’t familiar with it, Roy traces the history of the corporation from around the late 18th century until the early 20th century. He examines how corporations went from quasi-public instruments that were chartered for very particular ends, building a bridge or building a road. That was the dominant understanding till about the 1850s-1860s. But thanks to Andrew Jackson, in part, thanks to clever corporate lawyers, the corporation became perceived as a private institution existing apart from the state. It’s also a function of our Federalist system where states compete against each other to attract corporations. So everyone knows about Delaware today being home to an insanely large fraction of fortune 500 corporations. But if you go back 100 years, New Jersey was the original Delaware. They unleashed this race to the bottom where states competed to attract corporations to charter there. So, for example, New Jersey persuaded the Standard Oil Company to give up its relatively restrictive Ohio charter and reincorporate in New Jersey under a more liberal charter, liberal from the perspective of the shareholders of the managers. At the time, corporate charters were actually an important source of revenue for state governments, so they had short term fiscal reasons for engaging in this ruinous competition. Which maybe will get us to another topic of shared interests, which is money.

Billy Saas:  Yeah!

Scott Ferguson:  I think one of the deep implications of this analysis in your book that you that I think is there, implicitly, but I’d like to tease out and kind of hear what your response is, you know, I’m always interested in the ways that Modern Monetary Theory can not only help us get over our zero sum thinking about federal spending, and open up our imagination for public provisioning, all the things that we all really like about it. But I’m also interested in what Modern Monetary Theory can do in terms of systemic analysis, systemic analysis of history, and historical crises. I think the way that you lay out, leaning on other people, but the way you lay out the history of the rise of both the actuality but more of the ideology of the private hierarchical corporation is actually a great case study for MMT because, as you point out, the US Constitution de-democratizes money creation, and enforces austerity, at the sub federal level, at the level of states and municipalities, because the Constitution forbids those sub-federal entities from creating money, it makes them reliant on revenue. That becomes the underlying motivation and condition for wanting to lure corporations to franchise anew under less restrictive rules in one state, right? So if you just take for granted that well, all entities need to earn revenue in order to spend and so well, it’s just too bad. Once the law made it possible, too bad. There’s a race to the bottom and we can lament it. But I think the way you lay out all the pieces of this puzzle, it helps us to see the ways that a constitutional structure of de-democratization and austerity for some federal governance incentivizes the rise of the modern private corporation and its inordinate powers, which it constantly abuses.

Sandeep Vaheesan:  That’s right. Yeah, so in the late 19th century, you had states struggling to collect enough revenue to engage in social spending, public investment, and as you mentioned, they cannot issue their own money so they ultimately have to engage in taxation, borrowing or other revenue generating activity. And one easy and fairly straightforward way of raising money at the time was issuing corporate charters. You grant a firm a charter with the sort of privileges. They, in exchange, pay either an upfront or recurring fee to hold that charter. With the growth of regional and ultimately national companies, you saw businesses starting to play states off against each other and signal quite explicitly: we don’t need to be incorporated in Ohio, you have all these restrictive conditions on what we can do. Today, we take limited liability for granted but many states didn’t allow for limited liability at the time. Shareholders could be on the hook for a corporation’s debts above and beyond their initial investment. Some savvy, you could call them savvy states, like New Jersey recognized an untapped revenue potential. They said, we can actually offer you a much more liberal charter, you’ll get limited liability, you won’t have any regulatory restrictions in the charter. So for example, the charter in the 19th century was often used as a quasi antitrust instrument. Businesses couldn’t engage in certain types of competitive activity without running afoul of their charter. New Jersey said: forget that, you’ll have a broad permissive charter. Come re-incorporate in New Jersey, pay us a lump sum, and escape the regulatory obligations that you’re facing in Ohio, or Pennsylvania or somewhere else. So you’re right, this is very much a condition of monetary scarcity at the state level. States aren’t monetary sovereigns, so they had to figure out other ways of raising money. This meant sometimes undertaking very socially destructive activities and the state rivalry kind of set the stage for the modern corporation, where states have this very attractive bundle of privileges without any corresponding responsibilities.

Scott Ferguson:  I think from here, I’d like to circle back to the history that you outline, and have you talk a little bit more about what happens in the New Deal. I mean, one of the things that I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I guess I was slightly surprised by, is how intense the contestation was around power and the public provisioning of power, throughout the New Deal. I mean, at no point in your story, is it “Ah, we did it, and this was a good idea,” right? I mean, for some people, right? But I mean, the skullduggery continues, and you actually have some pretty amazing stories about campaigns of the private power industry, moving into schools and community centers and producing all kinds of propaganda and fake telegrams, staging some kind of totally false populist support of private power. But anyway, if you can just take us into some of the major events that happen around the New Deal, that’d be really helpful.

Sandeep Vaheesan:  Yeah, so I should start by saying, in the 1920s, private power was fairly close to hegemonic power, probably the single most powerful industry in the United States. But they were aware of the threats. They were aware of the threats of stronger public regulation, of greater public ownership, and really pulled out all the stops to prevent the growth of the Public Power Movement. The FTC did a great study that looked at some of the propaganda campaigns and tricks that they undertook and concluded that there had never been a propaganda campaign, outside of governments in wartime on par with what private power undertook in the 1920s. That was a paraphrase not a verbatim quote, but yeah, it was a full court press to contain and ultimately defeat public power. But they were successful, in part because the crash happened in 1929. And the United States entered the Great Depression. And these over leveraged holding companies that dominated the power industry, many of them collapsed. Debt’s great during boom times, but becomes a profound source of vulnerability when things go south. So a number of these holding companies went bankrupt. Famously, Samuel Insull’s holding company group, Middle West Utilities, went under. So the crisis created this new opening. Private power, in a sense, had been dethroned. The men who are the top of American industry were now in disgrace, and Roosevelt ran in part on reforming the power sector. He gave this nice, rather scholarly speech in Portland in September of 1932. He took office in March of 1933, and immediately started reforming the power sector. So one of the laws passed during his 100 days was the Tennessee Valley Authority Act, which creates a federal corporation to build and operate multipurpose dams on the Tennessee River and its tributaries. By multipurpose dams, I mean dams that were built to do multiple things, including control floods, support navigation, and then, of course, generate electricity. So the TVA is set up in the first 100 days, not just to build dams, but is also given the power to really serve as a regional development agency. So at that time, the Tennessee Valley was one of the poorest parts of the country. So there’s a real belief that absent strong federal investment and federal reform, this backwardness would persist over time. Ultimately, the TVA was much more of a power company than a Regional Development Agency, but there were these competing visions for the TVA from its inception. The government replicates this in one form or another across most of the country. Dams are built in the Pacific Northwest, Congress funds the construction of the Bonneville Dam near Portland, and then the much larger Grand Coulee Dam in eastern Washington, you see similar dams on the Sacramento River. The government undertook a dam construction program that probably hasn’t been matched anywhere else, maybe in China in recent times. But it really was an extraordinary program of public investment. One of the aims was to generate large quantities of low cost electricity that would serve both cities and then also people living in the countryside. That was really the first pillar of the New Deal Power Program. The second pillar was rural electrification. As we discussed earlier, only about one in ten farmers had electricity in the early 1930s. This was seen as a social, political and economic problem. By the 30s, there was a recognition that unless the government steps in and either directly builds lines to serve farmers or funds the construction of lines to serve farmers, this isn’t going to happen. Private capital is moving too slowly. We can’t wait another 50 years, 100 years to electrify the countryside. The New Dealers set up an agency called a Rural Electrification Administration to serve as a lending agency. They were given the power to offer low cost, long term loans to rural electrification projects. So that’s the second component. The third component is reforming the holding companies. This was probably one of the fiercest fights of the 1930s. So in early 1935, the Public Utility Holding Company Act was introduced in Congress, and this bill proposes to regulate and break up the holding companies that dominated the industry at the time. So we should think of holding companies really as creatures of the financial sector, devices meant to concentrate control in the hands of a few well connected financiers and promoters. Congress set about reforming these corporate behemoths, breaking them up, making them more conducive to state and local regulation. FDR was determined to break up the holding companies. He actually talked about it in the State of the Union address in 1935. But the fight wasn’t easy. It took almost six months to get this law through. Ultimately, it wasn’t quite what he or the biggest opponents of the holding companies wanted, but they passed PUHCA, Public Utility Holding Company Act, in August of 1935, charged the SEC with both breaking up these holding companies. Some of these holding companies, from a strictly operational perspective, made absolutely no sense. They would have a few utility systems in New England, a few in Florida, a few on the West Coast. There was no engineering rationale for this system of organizations. So Congress told the SEC, break up these non-integrated systems and tightly regulate them going forward to prevent some of the financial chicanery that had happened in the 1920s. So it’s really a three part program of public provisioning, low cost credit for rural electrification, and much tighter and stronger regulation of private power. The New Dealers, they didn’t really go all in on public power, but they expanded it qualitatively with respect to where it was previously.

Scott Ferguson:  Can you talk about the rise of cooperatives during this time?

Sandeep Vaheesan:  Sure. So Congress creates the Rural Electrification Administration, and the REA, at first, doesn’t know how to go about electrifying the countryside. They’re actually quite open to the idea of giving low cost credit to private power to build rural distribution systems. But they quickly realize, okay, there’s no appetite here. They’re going to borrow a lot of money to provide service to relatively few people. Then they turn to public agencies, they look at municipal utilities and talk with them and gauge their interest and realize, okay, they want to serve their cities, and in many cases don’t actually have the legal power to build rural lines. So they have charters saying you will only serve the city of Los Angeles, for example. And so they’re forced to look to this new, relatively new institutional form, the Rural Electric Cooperative. At the time, the mid 1930s, there might have been 10 or 20 Rural Electric Cooperatives in the entire country. So this was a largely untested form of business enterprise. The REA realized, though, we can either look to the cooperative, fund cooperatives, or electrification is not going to happen. There’s a lot of skepticism at first about Rural Electric Cooperatives. Yes, cooperatives have a long history in the United States, especially in the Midwest and the South. You have a lot of food and agricultural cooperatives that do things like collectively market livestock, collectively, market grains, in some cases, even engage in collective manufacturing. Some of the familiar brands at the grocery store like Land O’Lakes and Sunkist, they’re actually cooperatives. Agricultural cooperatives were a thing, but electric cooperatives were largely unknown and unproven. You had people asking themselves, can we actually trust a group of farmers to build and operate power systems? This requires real skill to construct, real skill and knowledge to maintain. This seems questionable, how are we going to get it done? So what ends up happening is the REA, which was originally set up to be a lending agency, becomes not just a lender, but a technical assistant. They realize they actually have to supply a lot of the technical engineering know how if these electric cooperatives are going to be successful. So they went about providing really essential service for these early electric cooperatives. I’ll highlight two things they did. This goes back to the money question. Congress, in setting up the REA, explicitly said it will not award grants. The REA could only award loans to quote unquote “self-liquidating projects”. By self-liquidating I mean projects that will generate enough revenue over time to repay the REA on the original terms. Rural electrification would have to be done in the sense on a profitable basis. There would need to be enough money to repay principal and interest to the REA. So the REA has this public mandate to help electrify the countryside, but then also has, in a sense, a banker mandate to only extend credit that can be repaid. So the REA realizes, okay, we can’t just indiscriminately extend credit because a lot of these projects are not going to be successful. Congress has charged us with only funding self-liquidating projects, that limits our latitude. But in a sense, it forced them to be creative. So they do two things. First, they identify uses of electricity in country homes and in farms. They figured out ways that farming operations can be electrified, they identify new uses of power and farm homes, and they actually organize a traveling tour to show farmers and their families how they can use electricity. It was called a “big tent”, it traveled throughout the South and the Midwest demonstrating use of power. This is was very much with an eye toward selling enough power to repay the loans. It was motivated by conventional financial considerations. So that’s one thing they did. Second, they also realized power systems are costly to build. Building lines, at the time private power had said we’ll have to spend anywhere from $1000 to $2,000 per mile of line extension. From their view, the numbers just didn’t work. They would spend a lot of money up front and over time not sell enough power to make the undertaking worthwhile. REA recognizes okay, there are probably ways we can make line construction and line designs more effective. So they actually work with manufacturers to figure out ways to reduce the cost of line construction. For instance, they said okay, if we use certain materials for wires and poles, we don’t have to place the pole so closely together, we can save money on wooden poles. Secondly, they determined that the line designs used by private power were often too ornate and complicated. So they develop simpler line designs that would save money. By the late 1930s, REA funded projects were building lines in some places for as little as $400 a mile. So substantially less than what private power had said just a few years earlier. The REA funds, and helps set up these rural electric cooperatives, ultimately sets up close to 1000 electric cooperatives, principally in the Midwest and the South. If you look at a map in 1935, I mentioned about one in ten farmers had electricity, but there’s a lot of regional variation. On the west coast in California and Washington, about one and two farmers had electricity. By contrast, in the South and Mississippi, I think the number was something like one and fifty or one in one hundred. So the role of the need for electrification was a lot more acute in the South and to a lesser degree the Midwest than it was in the northeast and the west coast. A lot of money through the REA is flowing into the Midwest and the South. It’s really this development project, if you step back from it, a lot of low cost credit going into these areas. By the mid 1950s, you had rural electrification rates of 9 in 10. Nationally, even in places like Mississippi are up to about 85%. It’s worth remembering this whole project was interrupted by World War Two. Starting in 1941, the government put a hold on most civilian investment projects to divert resources into directly fighting the war, and then also supporting the war effort of the allies. Between ’41 and ’45, there’s not a lot of rural electrification going on. The project is put on hold, and then really picks up after the war. Within about 10 years, from 1945 to 1955, we went from 50% to 90% of farmers having electricity. It’s a really dramatic change. Not only getting power, but there’s a substantial improvement in their living standards. They now have indoor plumbing, they have indoor toilets, they have refrigerators. Life in the American countryside was transformed. Having grown up in a period of what I think of as neoliberal stagnation, it’s really hard to imagine both the depth and the breadth of change that happened in the United States. There was also a similar, if not quite as significant change in cities with electric modernization, and we can talk a little bit more about that.

Billy Saas:  So what will it take? It’s hard to fathom… Yeah, I agree. The scale of action and the kind of sense of determination that you just outlined there. But you’d have some ideas in the “Promise” portion of the book toward the end. Yeah, what do you think needs to happen? What are the conditions you think need to be in place? Are they in place? And then where do you find the most promise moving forward for a green transition, a just green transition and a democratic green transition?

Sandeep Vaheesan:  There’s a lot that needs to happen. I think there’s at least one half of the political spectrum, a recognition that climate change is a serious problem that requires national and preferably international action. But, the United States is still the second largest contributor to annual greenhouse gas emissions. If you look at greenhouse gas emissions since 1850, the United States is the largest contributor to that stock of gasses in the atmosphere. The US can do a lot. But should ideally do it in concert with other countries. I think that’s the good news. I think the bad news is, there’s still a common assumption, you see it a lot in kind of centrist central left climate spaces, that this is just a technical problem. We need to improve the efficiency of wind turbines, we need to develop new energy storage technologies. I certainly don’t mean to minimize any of those challenges. They’re important. We’ve made a lot of progress, but there’s a lot of progress that remains. But I think simply reducing it to a techno-scientific question doesn’t do justice to the problem, because it’s also a political economic problem of who’s causing it or who’s disproportionately causing it? Who’s bearing the burdens within the United States, then, of course, around the world? Who’s making the decisions? There are many potential paths to a zero carbon future, some of which are much more just and equitable than others. Who is making those choices? Right now, the bulk of those choices are made by executives at utilities, executives in oil and gas companies, of course, Wall Street.

Billy Saas:  So those executives have to refer to their investors in their fiduciary responsibility, and there’s this perverse… Ultimately, accountability is just completely displaced.

Sandeep Vaheesan:  It’s completely displaced, right. We can have a green transition that’s very oligarchic. So far, I think that’s the path we’re on. I mean, look at the tech companies. They have positioned themselves to lead the transition. Google, Amazon, Facebook, use a lot of energy, have data centers scattered across the country, and they’ve gone to renewable energy developers, Amazon’s now talking to nuclear power developers, as well, and saying, we’re willing to purchase this power using long term power purchase agreements. It certainly has benefits, they’re helping decarbonize, but they are doing this in a way that’s best for them. They are not consulting the public. They are not doing this based on some broader social or public imperative. They’re doing this based on their private considerations. So as of now, I think we are on a trajectory of both insufficient decarbonisation. The IRA is not going to get us to where we need to be. And then a transition that’s fundamentally unjust. In some ways, even if we’re successful, even if the energy modelers understated the benefits of the IRA, we’re going to be in a place where our oligarchic arrangements are still largely intact, which should alarm everyone. We don’t want to perpetuate poverty, precarity, and inequality and then simply just strip out the carbon. Yes, decarbonisation is necessary, but it’s not sufficient. So we need to be thinking about the political economic aspect of our power system and really our broader society. My book is just focused on power, but we could have similar discussions around housing and transportation, just to name a few other examples. To qualify that pessimism a little bit, I think there are some early signs that people are starting to recognize that we need to pick a different path with the fact that the Green New Deal drew so much attention is positive. There are organizers and advocates on the ground across the country doing really critical community outreach, developing ideas, plans based on small-d democratic input. But that local energy and activism, in my view, needs to be paired with a national program. That the federal government is not just a monetary sovereign, it is kind of the singular monetary sovereign in the entire world. We need to be putting that special power to use, instead of using the monetary privilege to fund the military industrial complex, we should be using it to decarbonize and build a democratic economy.

Scott Ferguson:  One of the rhetorical tropes that disgusts me so much that comes out of this kind of oligarchic transition language is, as you suggested, it’s really a technical problem. We need R&D in order to solve the technical problem. What the technical problem will do is bring down costs, right? It’ll make it more affordable, right? But this takes so much for granted. Right? From a public, endogenous, MMT point of view, that’s and that’s a nonsense justification. I guess, before we go, I’d like to have you stipulate some of the details that you outline in your book for moving forward. You have all kinds of ideas about board representation and composition, grants rather than relying on the kind of punitive loan structure that hindered rural electrification during the New Deal. Can you walk us through some of the nitty gritty of how you imagine a democratic just transition?

Billy Saas:  We can leave some mystery. What do you feel are the most critical components of your solution?

Sandeep Vaheesan:  Yeah, so as a lawyer, I’m probably inclined to overstate the importance of law, but institutional details matter. New Deal public and cooperative power has often fallen short because they got institutional details wrong, or they simply didn’t consider the institutional details.

Scott Ferguson:  Or they were racists.

Sandeep Vaheesan:  Or they were racists. Yeah, that’s another important reason. So if we want democratic power, good governance has to be in a sense hard coded. We need to establish a certain baseline around regular elections, on public participation in utility decision making, limits on boards and managers discretion. We don’t want public power to have the freedom to invest in coal power. So the institutional details matter a lot. To offer a partial defense of the New Dealers, I do think they were doing this all very quickly under a great deal of stress and opposition from not just private power, but just reactionary interests in general. That, I think, explains, in part, some of the institutional neglect that happened. For example, why are electrification laws in this country so sparse? Why don’t they require, for example, annual elections? Why is that left up to the board’s discretion? My view is they were just trying to get these institutions up and running, they didn’t necessarily think about long term governance. They wanted to get electricity to the countryside, and they wanted to do it fast enough that private power couldn’t crush the Rural Electric Cooperative babies in the cradle. Not an entire defense, but a partial dependence. But now we’ve learned. We have almost 100 years of experience. We have to think more about the legal architecture this time around. That’s critical. Second, returning to the topic of monetary sovereignty. The New Deal Power Program reflected the monetary conservatism of Roosevelt and many of his allies. Jakob Feinig has an excellent book about this very topic, Moral Economies of Money. That austerity mindset is one of the legacies of the New Deal. It has some good legacies, but also has other bad legacies. Obviously racism, but then also the notion of austerity, the idea that money is scarce for a monetary sovereign like the federal government. We have to overcome that. Especially in recent years, debt has really impeded both autonomy and democratic governance in many of these Rural Electric Cooperatives. They have substantial loans that they have to repay to the federal government, so their boards and managers are always just thinking about how do we sell more power, we have debt to service. Maybe we should try to attract a Google data center to our service territory. That’ll increase our revenue 10% annually going forward. That’s a function of debt financing. This time around, we should unabashedly, proudly embrace grant financing. If we have the technical means to do something, we can afford it. I don’t know who said that. But I often think about that line. So money is not the constraint here.

Billy Saas:  Keynes.

Sandeep Vaheesan:  Was it? Keynes, okay. The master himself. And you see that logic at work. There’s never a lack of money for defense spending. Nobody ever talks about deficits when it comes to the annual defense budget. But when it comes to spending on good things, it’s like, well, what about the deficit? We need to confidently reject that and those of us on the left should be willing to energetically make the case for public spending for the public good.

Billy Saas:  I think it’s a great place to end it. Sandeep Vaheesan, thank you so much for joining us on Money on the Left.

Sandeep Vaheesan:  It’s been my pleasure. Great time chatting with you both.

* Thanks to the Money on the Left production team: William Saas (audio editor), Mike Lewis (transcription), & Robert Rusch (graphic art)

Housing for All with Chris Martin

Money on the Left is joined by Dr. Chris Martin to discuss Modern Monetary Theory’s vital importance for the struggle to provide adequate housing for all. A Senior Research Fellow at the City Futures Research Centre at the University of New South Wales, Martin is a long-time tenant’s rights advocate in Australia with scholarly training in law and heterodox political economy. He is closely familiar with the rhetorical machinations–or “contrivances,” as he calls them–that attenuate the effectiveness of national housing policy in Australia and beyond. In 2023, Martin and his team of co-authors (including Julie Lawsome, Vivienne Milligan, Chris Hartley, Hal Paswon, and Jago Dodson) published a report that argued the government can and should provide adequate housing for everyone in Australia. Titled “Towards an Australian Housing and Homelessness Strategy: Understanding National Approaches in Contemporary Policy,” the report makes several noteworthy contributions to housing-for-all discourse, including figuring social housing as an integral part of a nation’s infrastructure. We speak with Martin about this report and its reception in Australian housing policy debates. We also ruminate about what housing-for-all movements in Australia, the US, and across the world stand to learn from each other. 

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Music by Nahneen Kula: www.nahneenkula.com

Transcript

The following was transcribed by Mike Lewis and has been lightly edited for clarity.

Scott Ferguson:  Chris Martin, welcome to Money on the Left.

Chris Martin:  Good day, Scott. Good day, Billy.

Scott Ferguson:  We’ve invited you onto our show to talk to us primarily about this co-authored report that you published, along with many co authors, titled “Towards an Australian Housing and Homelessness Strategy”, in which among many things, you offer a strategy to address the multifaceted crises of homelessness through a public money, or MMT lens or framework. Before we get started in our discussion about this report, I was wondering if you could tell our audience a little bit about yourself, about your background, about your training, about your professional work and what brought you to this topic?

Chris Martin:  Well, I’m coming to you today from my home in Dharawal country. I’m in the southern edge of Sydney, New South Wales, Australia. The Dharawal are the traditional owners of this part of the world. So I pay my respects to that community who never ceded the property here and never ceded their sovereignty, like other indigenous people throughout Australia who have never ceded their sovereignty or property. At the other end of Dharawal country, I grew up in a town a couple of hours down the coast from Sydney, where my parents owned our house, and it was a comfortable, unremarkable upbringing. I came to Sydney after high school to study a law degree at University and also a political economy degree. Coming out of that I had a bit of an exposure to heterodox economics. That’s a slightly notorious degree, the Sydney Uni political economy degree. Occasionally, you find other people who have done it, and you give them the secret handshake. Through that degree, and through my law degree, I was getting interested in housing. Also having moved to Sydney and I just had a couple of housing scrapes and lived in crummy houses as people do. That becomes a bit of a dinner party story, but I was also conscious that there’s a bit of survivor bias in that. There’d be young people who experience crummy housing and move out of home who don’t want to talk about it at dinner parties or who aren’t getting invited to the dinner parties. So I was getting interested in housing, and after law, my first proper job after uni was as a tenant advocate. I’ll tell you a bit more about this particular sector of tenant advice and advocacy services that we have in New South Wales. I was a tenant advocate at a local tenants advice service in Sydney. I was representing tenants in the tribunal and giving them advice. After a couple of years, I went to the tenants union of New South Wales, which is the peak tenant organization for the state. I was their policy and law reform officer for 13 years. It was in that time that I did my PhD which led to the academic job I have now, but also that’s where I was starting to reread again political economy and particularly after the Global Financial Crisis (GFC) and started looking again for a framework that cohered and put some of those little bits of heterodox thinking and literature that I picked up along the way and made it cohere. It was in that early 2010s blogosphere space that I found I was reading New Economic Perspectives. There was Bill Mitchell’s blog, so I started to read about modern money, and that’s when so many of those little bits that I picked up along the way from uni and other places started to cohere. This conception of money as a system of credit that is governed by states, and can be governed for democratic, public good purposes. I was at the tenants union when I was starting to frame some of my advocacy around this. Then, subsequently nine years ago, I got my current appointment at the University of New South Wales at the City Futures Research Centre. I continue to work on researching housing and advocating for housing reform that does justice, particularly for people who don’t own their housing, particularly for renters.

Billy Saas:  So you came to heterodox economics before the GFC. Any recollection of sort of what drew you to that esoteric direction?

Chris Martin:  That was a bit of a fluke, really.iI hadn’t done economics in high school, so I didn’t have the prerequisites to get into the standard economics courses at university. So, I did the Political Economy course as part of this combined degree with law, which is what you do in Australia. If you do a law degree, you do another degree. It was a little bit of a fluke, but it was an introduction to things like social surplus approaches to economics and we had some of the proper Keynesian and post Keynesian lectures, as well as some, some Marxism and Neo Marxism and monopoly studies and things like that training. I majored in things that were to the side, I majored in urban history. I was getting into housing, in that respect, but I came out of that without a really complete or coherent worldview or operating system for economics, and sort of had a an idea of the intellectual history and the different ways in which economic problems had been thought of over time and the different configurations or problematization of economics that has a way of thinking about the progress of policy in different areas, including in housing. But in terms of having something that was a more connected and coherent scheme for understanding the contemporary economy and for proposing reforms. It was really through reading those blogs and also the research literature around that, and particularly around modern money, and some of the fellow travelers as well. So I remember after the GFC, I needed to read about Keynes, and there was hardly anything on the shelves at that point. And I ended up with Robert Skidelsky’s biography and read that instead. So, I think just in terms of the proponents of modern money and also those other nearby neighboring voices or fellow travelers, if you like, like another Australian, Steve Keen, was quite a prominent commentator and helped get a more critical public discussion going around economics and money. The level of the public conversation is a lot better than where it was pre GFC.

Billy Saas:  If you’d gone the economics route, you would have probably learned lots about macro and micro, but you took political economy. It sounds like with the heterodox-specific education, you learned how to sharpen your knives a bit. I feel like a lot of the heterodox econ literature and pedagogy is oriented toward a critique of the mainstream. So if nothing else that helps you to become more skeptical and a better critic. I think, to that extent, it’s no surprise that when you find the Billy blog, I think it was called at the time, alongside New Economic Perspectives, that you have an openness to it.

Scott Ferguson:  My question is about the reception of your work in your field. I see that you collaborate with all kinds of people, whether directly or through convening interviews and surveys. I’m curious, because I think a lot of us run up against real barriers in our own disciplines and areas, either full-on hostility, or a kind of “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s weird to me, and I really don’t want to have any part of it.” But it seems like you’ve made some friends. I’m curious to hear about how that process has gone for you?

Chris Martin:  Sure. Well, I think we’re now talking about this report that came out last year “Towards an Australian Housing and Homelessness Strategy” report. That’s a report that some colleagues and I wrote, which was commissioned by an agency called the Australian Housing and Urban Research Institute, and they fund a lot of housing research in Australia. I think it’s safe to say that the first AHUR report to mention modern money. I’d slipped a few of the ideas into some previous AHUR reports on social housing as infrastructure. That was a report talking about the value of investing in social housing, and in particular this, it was a little bit of a rhetorical idea at that time. Can we frame it as infrastructure? Governments love infrastructure. Can we frame social housing as a type of infrastructure? So that was also a prior piece of research in which I got to rehearse the modern money stuff without speaking its name. But yeah, you’re right. There is still a disreputable quality about it, which is unfortunate, but I think the fact that my five colleagues on this were prepared to tolerate my modern money speculations in this report says something about the the preparedness of researchers and hopefully of policy makers, because that’s a big constituency for research like this, to rethink the conventional wisdom about money and finance. To be a little more open about the Rethinking because we’ve seen so many instances of this rethinking and a reform of practice happen, particularly in response to the COVID shock, particularly that early period of lockdowns and the income shock that followed. Some really quite extraordinary government operations around money and supporting, on the one hand the incomes of households, but also supporting the wealth, the assets of financial institutions in that shock. That involved a big and quick rethinking and re practice, reform of money by a government. So it does happen, and I think we can, as researchers, and as advocates for housing policy reform, we can help inform a redirection of governments as they rediscover their power in relation to public finance, to be productive and that advance housing justice in particular. I’m thinking back to when I worked for the tenants union, so in the non government sector, in the community sector, where you’re making proposals to the government for policy reform, in particular, for housing policy reform. This will be familiar to American listeners. Like the US, our the Australian public housing sector, the social housing sector, is this tiny residualized sector of housing that used to be bigger and accommodate a bigger market share, the biggest share of the housing sector, and housed more people and was for more people a basis for them getting into homeownership, in many cases, but also for having a stable place where they put down roots and flourished a bit. That’s been residualized, minimized, and so few people realize the benefits of social housing now. So investment in social housing, getting our social housing sector growing again. I say social housing, to clarify, in Australia, we talk about social housing being the umbrella term for public housing, which is the state owned, and managed rental housing stock. We’ve also got this sector of community housing, which is owned by non government organizations that provide on a fairly similar basis, which is affordable rental housing for low income people. Those two things together are social housing. So we need to get our social housing stock growing in line with community needs for affordable housing. It’s been on a starvation ration for decades. The advocacy for it is all about the government being prepared to spend to build the houses and also to subsidize the ongoing rental operation of those houses so they continue to provide a decent standard accommodation for people on low incomes, if their ability to pay falls short of what it costs to run the system. Those two big basic claims for housing reform in Australia: capital grants to grow our social housing stock and to properly backdoor social housing providers that their operating costs will be met. That’s been the mainstay of housing advocacy and you have to make this proposition for governments to spend again on social housing. Too often, there’s been this feeling that we need to balance the budget in order to do that, and how are we going to pay for it? That’s been the constant refrain that I’ve heard from tenants union days and through to today. Policymakers or politicians, how are we going to pay for it? The simple answer to that is that it gets paid for by government spending. Modern Money is a useful framework for backing up the claim that you can just decide to pay for this. On the other hand, there are aspects of housing policy that also don’t involve government spending. I think modern money also helps us think through these other aspects of housing policy and in particular, how governments can shape or intervene for the public good. I’m thinking in particular of housing finance. Although our social housing sector is starved of money, other parts of our housing system, the problem is, to put it boldly, too much money. There’s too much money being borrowed and thrown by households, principally at bad housing. We should be talking about the taxation of housing. But not in this, how do we pay for what we want to spend on social housing. But instead to think about taxation of housing in a way that shapes behavior and how do we get the sort of behavior outcomes that we want from a public policy perspective? So less speculative borrowing and spending on housing as an asset to hoard. And how do we get more…well, there might be more opportunities for first-time buyers relative to households already wealthy in housing, advancing their position, buying more housing, as rent goes up. How do we shape our housing investment settings to bring on the new housing supply that we need? The additional housing being built, that a population like Australia’s needs, which grows every year. So I think modern money helps us also think through those other aspects of housing policy that aren’t about government spending, are in fact about governments either taxing or about the way they regulate the provision of credit for investment in housing.

Scott Ferguson:  This is something I really appreciated about the work of yours that I’ve been reading recently in preparation for discussion today is that you and your co authors are very attentive to not just problems that need fixing and that fixing requires public money to be spent. But the problems are multifaceted, cut across different categories and domains, and very often it’s the legal construction of the monetary system in the private sector which is creating all kinds of negative feedback loops with the public sector and vice versa. I sense in your analysis, what sometimes in the MMT world we think of as being a consolidated balance sheet or a consolidated fiscal analysis in which it’s all part of the same system is just a question, how is that system designed? And what kinds of pro social effects are there? And what kinds of perverse effects are there, and how are those things related to one another?

Chris Martin:  The report that we’re talking about, this particular piece of work that we’re talking about is titled, “Towards an Australian Housing and Homelessness Strategy: Understanding National Approaches”. This has been a bit of a theme for our current federal government here in Australia. We had a change in government two years ago, and a new government, led by Anthony Albanese, and his labour party, came to power and they promised a national housing and homelessness plan. We were in the process of doing this research when the Albanese government came to office, and made this commitment to a national housing homelessness plan. There is a commitment, at least, by the government to having this more strategic approach where previously Australia, we actually haven’t had a national strategy as regards housing. As we detail in the report, the way housing strategy gets done, it’s really fragmented by different government agencies, and working in their own spheres, across different levels of government. Like the US, we’re a federation. States and territories in Australia have constitutional responsibilities in relation to housing, as well. As you say Scott, that makes it a complex field for policy making. Despite that complexity, we have lacked an overarching strategy for bringing it all together. One of the areas that I think we should be thinking of as housing policymaking and an institution of housing policy, are our financial regulators. They make housing policy, they conduct housing policy, I’m talking about our reserve bank, the Reserve Bank of Australia, and the Australian Prudential Regulatory Authority, which is the supervisory institution that regulates banks from a financial stability perspective. Those two institutions wouldn’t call it a housing policy, but they run a housing policy and they are independent. Those two institutions insist on their independence and the government of the day always says they’re independent institutions, despite them being established by an act of parliament, and ultimately they should be regarded as part of the array of institutions that a democracy operates through, and governs through. They run a housing policy. In particular, before the COVID financial crisis, we had a situation where, coming in the years after the GFC, we had quite a boom in Australia, especially in investment in apartments. We had lots of apartment buildings and we had lots of people borrowing to spend on apartments, particularly as landlords. We had government reviews into the financial stability concerns that this boom in apartment investment was posing risks to financial stability according to the reviewers. From the late 20-teens APRA introduced macro prudential tools that, for the first time in decades, effectively discriminated between borrowers for owner occupied housing and borrowers for investors and had the effect of increasing interest rates for investors. Also decreasing competition amongst our banks for housing investment. The RBA also took care to say that it wasn’t targeting housing prices, but it did say that it was concerned about housing prices. Its monetary policy was setting interest rates at a higher level than other circumstances might have indicated in its usual ways of thinking because it had a concern that our house price growth was threatening the effectiveness of monetary policy responses. That if house prices kept growing the way they did, then the RBA’s ability to fine tune the economy through interest rate adjustments would be put at risk because the tuning wouldn’t be fine. If the debt got too big, there would be a risk of trying to fine tune and you’re getting this outsized response. So that was the RBA thinking. But all of these things operate through housing markets and housing costs. It’s a housing policy. It’s something that isn’t governed and isn’t part of a coherent national strategy. We were making the case for exactly that: a coherent national strategy around housing and homelessness. The current government is preparing what it calls its national housing and homelessness plan. All of the indications so far from the consultation exercises that have run, the issues paper that it put out. All of those indicators are that it’s shaping up to be a very, very narrow plan. A plan that doesn’t encompass all of these diverse areas of policy. We had an issue paper that didn’t mention tax, and it didn’t mention finance. It says that’s not the coherent, ambitious strategy that Australia needs to tackle its housing problems. We’ve now got, coming out of that report, a bit of activism taking place around trying to promote the idea of legislating a basis and a requirement for a national housing plan. We’re calling on parliamentarians, calling on the government in the first place, but other parliamentarians, to legislate for a national housing plan. To have a to require that the government of the day will have a plan, and that it will be a plan that meets certain broad objectives. That has, as its overarching objective, the realization of the human right to housing that everyone should have adequate housing. We’re proposing institutional arrangements for informing that plan and keeping the government of the day accountable to that plan. That piece of legislation, that framework we’re proposing doesn’t run on modern money. But I think you can legislate for a national housing plan without subscribing to the modern money view of the world. I think it’s a way of setting up for the government a much more ambitious and ultimately effective housing policy, a housing and homelessness strategy that encompasses all of the policy areas touched by housing. I think that sort of ambition in public policy is something that the conversation about modern money is also helping to support. It’s another way of encouraging governments to be properly seized of their power to marshal financial resources and real resources in the economy to to create public goods and public projects for positive ends.

Billy Saas:  Another thing that modern money theory can do for anyone who investigates it is to help you to come into contact with the question of, do the politicians, do the legislators know this stuff and act as if they don’t? Or do they not? Is it ignorance or is it evil? I know that you’re invested in ongoing policy-crafting deliberation. But it’s hard not to, from my perspective in the US, look at decisions that are made around significant social issues and conclude that even if they did recognize that we could pay for it, that it wasn’t about balancing the budget, that there are interests that are invested in keeping it just so. Keeping things the way they are. What’s your read of the situation politically, economically, in Australia, in terms of the odds of this activist-initiated push for a more coherent national housing and homelessness strategy being taken up? Or are the forces arrayed against it in terms of people who are invested in the system as it is so entrenched that they might be an obstacle to overcome?

Chris Martin:  It’s tricky. So in briefing MPs on the need for a national housing and homelessness plan, and to be ambitious about it, we do encounter a lot of MPs and their policy makers who I think are really on board. That we’ve got big problems in our housing system. Housing policy has been in the media and in the public discussion in a way that hasn’t been just over the last few years in Australia as house prices really took off after the pandemic, but in particular, there’s been a welcome focus on our problems in the in the rental sector where we’ve had extraordinarily rapid and large rate increases in Australia over the last couple of years. Also, there’s a real sense of people missing out on, despairing of the opportunities and the sort of choices that previous generations had in relation to housing. I think that is really quite keenly felt amongst MPs and policymakers. When it comes to questions about growing the social housing sector again, that is also something that I think we’ve made important ground on the necessity of doing that. Unfortunately, we still get this question of how to pay for it and some weird contrivances, especially in housing. So I said we had this new government come to power two years ago. As well as proposing a national housing and homelessness plan, it also said it wanted to increase investment in social housing. Good. And it said that it will do so through the establishment of what’s called the Housing Australia Future Fund. Instead of just paying the housing authority or making available a system of grants to the community housing providers, the government instead established the Housing Australia Future Fund, which means not paying for housing, it means going out and buying a whole lot of financial assets, and the returns on these financial assets will be distributed to social housing providers to make good the operating deficit that I told you about earlier.

Scott Ferguson:  Government becomes the ultimate entrepreneur, speculator.

Billy Saas:  Government as well as property investor subjectivity.

Chris Martin:  Well, it’s not even buying houses, that’s the trouble. It’s going and buying a whole lot of shares and bonds and things. We’ve got a bit of practice doing it. It’s sort of that sovereign wealth model. We’ve got a bunch of these. That’s not the first one. We’ve got a bunch of future funds in Australia that have been set up by governments over time, that go and buy financial assets from various financial assets from the private sector, and the returns on those are dedicated to funding various purposes. It might be medical research, or it might be social housing subsidies, none of which should turn on the returns that particular financial assets are being realized in these funds. We’ve gotten that contrivance. It’s reflective of that continued thinking of, well, where do we get the money for this? Where do we get the money for these public projects like social housing? We have to get it from chaps in suits. Through investments in finance.

Billy Saas:  We have to earn it, right? It must be earned.

Chris Martin:  Instead, we could do without that contrivance and we could have a properly planned expenditure on state and territory housing authorities. We could go directly to community housing providers, and expenditure on properly assessed housing needs in different communities, in different parts of the country, for them to make their investments in housing and run their housing businesses. We could spend that money. Not to raise money for that purpose, but because we want different sorts of conduct happening in our housing system, we could be reforming our taxation arrangements, particularly around land value taxation. We’ve got land value taxes throughout Australia, but we exempt all owner occupiers and we also exempt a whole lot of landlords as well. We could have a different taxation, particularly of land, as a way of discouraging speculative hoarding of land, encouraging underutilized land to be brought to the market for development as housing, whether that’s as owner occupied housing or as, hopefully, social rental housing. We could have a properly considered policy around lending and credit conditions for different sorts of housing investment, whether they’re owner occupiers or people or firms who want to invest in rental housing. That’s the sort of thing that a wide-ranging housing policy would contemplate, and instead, at the moment, we’re still not talking properly about tax, not talking about finance, insisting that that’s an independent thing that we need to leave to the RBA to sort out itself. We get these weird contrivances around funding for social housing. We can and should be a lot more ambitious and clear on what governments can do. Just being a little optimistic about it. As we’ve mentioned in the report, there is some thinking around governments making big plans and the advocacy around a Green New Deal from a few years ago, I think, made gains in terms of government’s preparedness to think about big plans. I think the work that Mariana Mazzucato is doing on public investment missions or mission-oriented investment and mission-oriented public policy. That’s finding an audience amongst policymakers. The Australian treasurer has had meetings with Mariana Mazzucato, and she’s got quite a following. So there’s ways in. I do think politicians and policymakers are hearing and are interested in these calls for big plans, for missions, for governments being possessed with their ability to prosecute big projects for the public good, and increasingly to be possessed of their powers as the issuer of the currency, as well.

Scott Ferguson:  So I’d like us to jump into the report a little bit more. There’s all kinds of wide ranging analyses and consequences in this report. Maybe one place to start would be to get you to talk a little bit about the survey of other national homeless strategies, specifically from Canada and Finland, I believe, and Scotland. Did I get that right?

Chris Martin:  Yeah, one of my colleagues, Julie Lawson, she’s sort of Australia’s international, roving housing policy correspondent. She’s based in Europe, and this is very much a thing. Canada is an interesting case because, like the US and like Australia, it’s a Federation. So they also have this complexity in their governance of housing policy. Like Australia, its federal government had largely been absent from housing policies for some time, and it came back into housing policy a few years ago, in 2017, with a national housing strategy. So that was something we had a look at. There’s lessons for Australia and other countries from the Canadian experience, good and bad. I think that the good lesson is having a legislative basis for a housing strategy because that has put some obligations on the federal government and the housing minister to report on the progress of their strategy. It’s given out a profile that housing hasn’t previously had there. It has started to build up some institutions that can inform policy making in Canada in a way that hadn’t happened previously. The bad lesson is that too much of this strategy is narrowly focused. Again, it largely misses taxation and finance questions. It’s about the subsidies and operating arrangements of their affordable rental housing sector, largely. It has helped in restoring expiring subsidies to some of that sector, but it has ended up being quite a narrowly focused plan. That said, it’s on the agenda in a newly prominent way in Canada, and hopefully, some of those institutional foundations and the legislative requirement for a plan will mean that better, more ambitious, and more comprehensive plans are made in the future. And really, that’s where we’re at in Australia, as well. That’s why we’re advocating for a National Housing and Homelessness Plan Act that sets up some accountability and policy governance measures and sets up some new institutions that can keep informing government and improving its policy performance, as regards to housing, instead of leaving it to be this fragmented and ineffective business that it currently is. Looking further, Julie’s work shows, particularly a couple of European examples, where countries have gotten their housing systems in order, relatively, and have a coherent structure to their housing system, and to the delivery of subsidies to parts of the system that work for low and moderate income households, particularly rental households. Austria is a great example of that. They’ve such a long standing model of what’s called limited profit rental housing provision with a dedicated subsidy that funds the limited profit housing companies that build and operate rental housing there. Finland’s another example where there’s these long standing housing institutions, government institutions, that provide a consistent and coherent subsidized housing development pipeline. They have done that for a couple of decades. We mentioned Scotland in the report, too, because that’s an example of a country where there’s an unusually dedicated tradition of reviewing housing policies and criticizing housing performance. I know in the US there have been some moves to big plans around housing. I’ve picked up that there’s an expansion of the Low Income Housing Tax Credit that underpins affordable rental housing provision in the US. I understand, too, that a Renters Bill of Rights was on the agenda, as well. It does seem to be a time for making big plans in housing. I don’t think the US is any closer to having a coherent national strategy than Australia is.

Billy Saas:  No, we’re probably taking notes and offering our own contrivances. What do you regard as your most important contributions or innovations to developing for Australia, but then potentially a place like the US a coherent national housing strategy? What are the two takeaways that you would like policymakers to walk away ready to go tell their constituents about?

Chris Martin:  Okay, well I guess the main takeaway from that report is, we need a plan. Housing and homelessness are complex in that they’re issues that run across different policy areas, and across different levels of government. Housing affects everyone and touches people’s lives in a really basic way. It’s also a key dimension of our economies. I mean, it’s a $10 billion asset class as well as a fundamental human right. So it’s a complicated area in which to make policy and so you need a plan. The second point would be that we need to be ambitious about it. Let’s have at the center of it the right of everyone to have an adequate home. We can call that a mission, if you like, a mission for governments to ensure that everyone has an adequate home. There’ll be a bunch of subsidiary missions that governments need to prosecute, to make sure that core mission is achieved, as well. Just getting a coherent strategy, a coherent framework for all of the different policy reforms that are needed, whether that’s in funding social housing properly, or regulating properly the lending for housing investment by the private sector, or getting our taxation arrangements so that we have less inducement for people to hoard land unproductively and to instead bring land and housing to the market. Residential Tenancy law, my spectral subject, is something that needs more of a plan and more coordination than we’re currently seeing because in this moment of increased interest in housing policy and increased critical attention particularly on how renters are doing, how renters are suffering in the current circumstances. There’s been lots of interest by governments, state and country and also our federal government in reforming residential tenancy law, and it’s still a little bit all over the place at the moment. I can do a whole podcast on tenancy law, but talking about some of the similarities and parallels to what’s happening in the US, as well, where there seems to be a parallel in some rising activism and rising tenant movements that are demanding reform. Just from observing social media, that seems to be happening in the US and it’s happening here as well. Governments are making some movements to respond to that, but it lacks coordination. There are still problems with a real reform agenda in Australia. That’s another area of policymaking where we could just be getting our act together and being a lot more coordinated and really getting some crucial reforms implemented on the statute books.

Billy Saas:  I would submit that another one of your critical contributions you alluded to earlier, and that’s the contribution of the idea of social housing as infrastructure, right? Changing the conversation, shaping the conversation that way. In the report, you have a selection here it says: housing, or more specifically, social housing can justifiably be framed as infrastructure. That is an asset that generates a social good, not as a residual problem resulting from a malfunctioning system.” What I like about that is a couple of things. One, infrastructure, I think, is broadly an appealing term. It’s legible to multiple audiences as something that people could get excited about investing in. It’s not the conventional way of thinking about it. That’s a benefit fit, as well. But I think the other thing is that last part, not as a residual problem resulting from a malfunctioning system. There’s an agency there that I think gets lost in the chicanary that comes with it, the contrivances as you put it. These evermore complex solutions to a problem that is just there to solve. So I wonder if, alongside infrastructure, or do you agree that that is a critical contribution, an important, essential contribution to this report? And are there any other kinds of rhetorical innovations that you’re up to here or in other work where you feel like, if we do need to educate or re-educate folks on how the fiscal and financial systems work at the federal level, here’s one way that we could approach talking about things differently?

Chris Martin:  I have mixed feelings about social housing as infrastructure rhetoric. Not mixed feelings about that report, which is terrific, and everyone should read it. But it really was a rhetorical maneuver. Not just by us, I mean, we were responding to this maneuver that housing advocates, and to be honest, housing policymakers were themselves making. We’ve had this problem of social housing being on this starvation ration for years, but we do have social housing agencies, and we have social housing policymakers, and they do from time to time make the case to the central agencies, of the Treasury, for a greater investment in their business. They thought, all of these infrastructure agencies are the talk of the town, can we pitch ourselves as infrastructure as well? And so we had a bit of a wave of advocacy and research for that matter about thinking about housing more broadly as infrastructure and social housing as infrastructure. I think that’s productive, exercising in getting people to think through the myriad contributions that housing makes to living well, and for individuals and households and neighborhoods and cities and national economies. But on the other hand, getting housing on the infrastructure agenda was also a rhetorical maneuver. To be honest, infrastructure itself is a bit of a sticky wicket. That enthusiasm for infrastructure that governments embraced in the 2000s and afterwards 2010. That turn to infrastructure was also going to be privately financed and there were so many contrivances or the infrastructure investment supposedly for the public good that were really about a privately financed investment and shoring up returns to the private sector owners of these assets. So we’ve had a bit of an investigation and honestly it becomes a stumbling block, this idea that how do we get big financial institutions to invest in social housing? We don’t need them to. The answer should be the most straightforward one. Well, how do we, in the first place, assess the community’s need for a particular form of infrastructure or additional infrastructure in the form of housing or whatever it is? And how do we mobilize resources towards attending to that need, in the context of all of the other needs that communities have for the fixed capital assets that make life possible and more enjoyable? And not about how we get the chaps in suits to buy housing that is going to be rented at less than what they could otherwise get in the private market. So that’s why I have a mixed feeling about that rhetorical maneuver of how social housing is infrastructure. It may be that infrastructure as a policy area isn’t actually a whole lot more friendly to social housing policymakers. Getting on that agenda may not actually be a great alternative to simply making the case that this is something that governments should be investing more resources into, because it makes life better for so many people.

Scott Ferguson:  Some of your research has been into the constructions of subjectivity around the private speculating housing market. You shared with us this one really great article titled Clever Odysseus Narratives, and Strategies of Rental Property Investor Subjectivity in Australia, in which you look at this industry of seminars and books and social media accounts and websites, and analyze through a critical lens, but nevertheless, through the lens of Joseph Campbell’s monomyth of the hero’s journey, and I’m wondering if you could tell our listeners a little bit about your analysis and your conclusions.

Chris Martin:  Scott, this is probably as close as I’ll get to your area of expertise. So the genre of the property investment seminar. Yeah, that was a project that was a couple of years ago. It was part of a bigger project on who’s investing in rental housing. In that late 2010s apartment boom in Australia. We were investigating who’s investing, and I was looking at all of these property seminars and sources of advice for the individual investors. I’ll do quotes around investors because that’s a very conscious terminology that’s used here. Like the United States, Australia’s private rental sector is similar in size. A bit more than a quarter of the population rents privately. It’s mostly owned by other households by so-called mums and dads. The difference here being that it’s almost all owned by — you’ve got some significant sector of corporate landlords and corporate landlords have only just got a toehold in Australia recently. So our rental housing is almost entirely owned by the household sector, by mums and dads. They variously call themselves mums and dads or investors. They do not like being called landlords, although that’s what our Residential Tenancies Act calls them. A good thing too, because that word landlord, it’s a gift from our history, and we should cherish it, and not give it away. But as we’ve got this industry that produces a particular genre of property investment advice, I went to a bunch of these seminars and took it all in and identified this common theme, or trope, which makes this genre particularly legible to people. As you said, it very directly references the hero’s journey where you’re in the dreary workaday world. The way this genre talks about work is quite particular, as being this horrible slog that people go through, and you wouldn’t want to do it if you didn’t have to. So you, the investor, who seizes your opportunities and who develops your own capabilities, who chooses a sound mentor, the investment guru, who’s selling you the CDs, and the books and boot camps and all the rest of it? They’re the Obi Wan to your Luke Skywalker as you set off on your property investment journey. In a way, it’s a very legible text, and it’s a way of getting people to quickly switch on to what they’re selling in these seminars. So it’s flattering to think of yourself as this heroic figure who’s breaking out of the workaday world into financial freedom. Really, that’s the endpoint of the investment journey: you become financially free. You don’t have to work anymore and you create this legacy for your children. Not just the legacy of the rental properties that you might give to them as a beneficent, heroic hero, but also the lessons imparted about making your way in the world. As well as just this sort of flattering, heroic figure that people might like to identify with it. Those seminars offered particular ways of thinking about approaching rental investment and ideas about money, ideas about debt. There’s a real theme in these books and seminars and things around a rethinking, I think, of traditional caution about debt. They often use the figure of other people’s money. Which is interesting, because as I understand it, that particular phrase, other people’s money, was originally a bit of a caution against irresponsibility. But in these property investment seminars, you’re enjoined to use other people’s money. It’s other people’s money, and it’s there for you to use, and if you can grab it, and that is to say, borrow it, and accumulate housing assets, that’s you getting ahead. It also works to get past or to minimize, or to put down anxieties about debt, because it’s other people’s money, it’s not your money. That’s one. There is a rethinking of debt that goes on in these property seminars that I think is really interesting. The other figure, or way of thinking that keeps coming up is around thinking strategically, and having a strategy. I’m conscious that I’ve just been talking about the government having a strategy and being coherent about this, but the strategic thinking of the property seminar is a bit different. It’s about being attentive to how an investment properties’ rental income is going, and also its capital growth, encouraging you to be a very active participant in your investments. Not necessarily to do a whole lot of property flipping, but to be mindful of when the market has risen. That’s your opportunity not to flip the property, but to go back to the bank and refinance and set up a line of credit that becomes a deposit for your next property investment. So it’s attentive and ties into this rethinking and reorientation towards debt as something that you want to take on debt, it’s other people’s money, you want that and you want to keep working to expand and to grow your property empire. There is something significant going on in those seminars and books and they leak into mainstream media. In our mainstream media, a big part of their historic business model was real estate advertisements, and the real estate parts of the businesses are spun out and become even bigger than the media parts. But they still carry these little stories, these little vignettes about people who invested who have gone on the journey. They all talk about going on the journey. These ways of thinking spread.

Scott Ferguson:  You point out that there’s even somebody who got churned up and spat out and wrote about it from a critical point of view, but she, too, still tells it according to the framework of a journey.

Chris Martin:  Yeah, that’s right. She went on her own particular sort of journey. That’s the power of that framework, isn’t it? I read just a couple of weeks ago, another take on the property investment genre. I thought it was a terrific insight into how gendered it is. There’s another article out now about property investment texts, particularly for women, and instead of the hero’s journey, which is implicitly a masculine trope, instead, there’s this genre that uses the feminine trope of the makeover. So a financial makeover through rental property investment, so there is a gendered aspect to this as well. For aficionados of property investment genres, there is a gendered reading as well, which is around the makeover. In terms of how this spills ,they’re into a wider politics about money. In the property investment discourse, and outside of it, there’s this really cynical and disparaging take on work, which is interesting. But there is also a really bleak depiction of post-work life. So your life in retirement, if you don’t have rental property assets, is depicted as being very grim indeed. There’s a real disparagement of the pension in Australia. Our social security, we have a state social security system. This is an instance where we’ve dispensed with the contrivance that the United States has. We don’t have a notion of an insurance fund that pays the state pension here. It’s just paid out of the government. But the age pension is a big part of retirement incomes for people post-work. There is all this speculation in the property investment literature, and frankly, outside of it as well, about the future where the pension doesn’t exist, or governments will run out of money and they won’t be able to afford the pension. There’ll be too many old people, they won’t be able to afford the pension if you don’t have a rental property, you’re cactus. That’s something that people outside of the property investment literature also participate in that discourse, that the age pension it’s somehow unsustainable. Again, no, we should be saying pensions are great. The pension, a publicly paid pension, is the democratic way of ensuring that people who are no longer producing goods and services, how they get a decent share of society is production. That’s what state pensions do, and they’re good and they’re democratic, and they’re absolutely not unsustainable. So that’s another argument where modern money can hopefully help win the day.

Scott Ferguson:  Meanwhile, having a de facto macro housing policy that is predicated on a hero’s journey toward passive income is going to undercut the productivity of the society and eventually or in aggregate, undercut what any pension might be able to pay for.

Chris Martin:  Yeah, exactly. In this telling of the story as the population ages, we have this increasing body of post-work people to sustain. Yeah, the other part of the conventional story is, ah well, those working aged people who have to sustain this growing, non-working population, we’re going to have to tax them even more to pay for the incomes and the health care and everything for that older group. Again, no, what we should be saying in response is: now, what we really need to be doing is making the productivity enhancing investments, that means that the working group, that their efforts go so much further, and produce so much more. That means investing in productivity enhancing investments or assets or capital. And that means making investments and not taxing people.

Scott Ferguson:  I’ll ask one more question. We didn’t really get to speak much about the multi dimensional political vectors that this report takes up. It’s not taking up housing in a narrow sense, but it’s connecting the politics of housing to any number of political questions and problems and contestation. There’s a discussion of indigenous homelessness and indigenous politics, there are questions of disability, and health, incarceration, and also ecology and environmental justice. I was wondering if you’d want to speak to some of those dimensions of the report?

Chris Martin:  Sure, okay. That’s the complexity of housing policy, that it does cross over into so many of these areas. The last point you made first, there’s a big issue about the environmental performance, especially the energy inefficiency of so much of our housing stock, and so there is a need for not just building better into the future, but so much of our future housing stock already exists and needs to do better in the future. Investments in retrofitting. We’ve got lots of little bits and pieces of sorts of programs, but that’s still an area where a lot more strategic work needs to be done. Here in Australia, within disability policy we’ve made, in the last 15 years, a concerted national effort at reforming disability service provision, and we do have a national disability policy and a new institution set up on insurance lines for funding disability services. And a different conception of how those services should be funded by funding packages for individual people with disability and then they go and buy their disability services in the Disability Service marketplace. That’s an area where we have made some big national reforms, but we’ve done so without a lead agency for steering those reforms, and also the interface between disability and housing is also something that is still underdeveloped. We’re still not building new properties in New South Wales, new properties that are going to be accessible for people with disabilities. We’ve got a criminal justice system that is closely tied into homelessness and housing instability in that most people who leave prisons in Australia don’t know where they’re going to be living when they leave. At the other end, we have so many people entering prison from homelessness, as well. So that connection between incarceration and homelessness is something that’s very costly in terms of services, services in inverted commas, but also just the human misery that goes with incarceration and victimization, as well. Again, we’ve had commitments to not exit into homelessness, but that doesn’t happen. It’s still regular, it’s still standard that a person will exit prison, and not know where they’re going, so it’ll be homelessness or some sort of temporary accommodation. Investment in housing can achieve savings and beneficial outcomes in the criminal justice area. Without this holistic or comprehensive view of housing policy, we don’t see those benefits, and housing policy makers don’t really get the credit and don’t get to make the claim for investment, because it’s a criminal justice payoff that housing investment can make. All of those things that you said, Scott, are aspects of the complexity of housing and homelessness policy. That’s why, to get on top of that complexity, we should have a strategy and it needs to be ambitious and have at the center of it adequate housing for everyone. That human right to housing is, I think from the research we’ve done and the conversations we’ve had, a great starting place for getting policymakers together. And also to make the case to the public that a government has ambitious plans for making housing better for the general public.

Billy Saas:  Chris Martin, thank you so much for joining us on Money on the Left.

Chris Martin:  No worries. I’m very happy to join you. Thanks a lot for having me.

* Thanks to the Money on the Left production team: William Saas (audio editor), Mike Lewis (transcription), & Robert Rusch (graphic art)

The Black University Concept with Andrew J. Douglas

Andrew J. Douglas, political theorist and professor of political science at Morehouse College, joins Money on the Left to discuss his latest article, “Modern Money and the Black University Concept,” published April 19, 2024, in Money on the Left: History, Theory, Practice. 

In the article as in the interview, Andrew stages critical encounters between the little-studied but tremendously potent concept of the Black University–an alternative vision for higher education oriented to Pan-African research and community development–and recent public money-driven proposals, like the Uni Currency Project, that aim to activate colleges and universities as sites for radical public provisioning and meaningful political participation. Proponents of both projects, Andrew argues, stand to gain much through collaboration and close study of each other’s work, with the prospective outcome of a revitalized 21st-century public money-driven Black University movement lingering just within reach. 

Toward the end of the conversation we discuss Andrew’s planned participation in a symposium on the cooperative university that was to be held later in the month at Columbia University. In solidarity with campus protestors at Columbia and across the world, Andrew withdrew in advance from that event.

Andrew J. Douglas is author of three books, including (with Jared Loggins) Prophet of Discontent: Martin Luther King Jr. and the Critique of Racial Capitalism (2021); W.E.B. Du Bois and the Critique of the Competitive Society (2019); and In the Spirit of Critique: Thinking Politically in the Dialectical Tradition (2013).

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Music by Nahneen Kula: www.nahneenkula.com

Transcript

The following was transcribed by Mike Lewis and has been lightly edited for clarity.

Billy Saas: Andrew Douglas, thank you so much for joining us on Money on the Left.

Andrew Douglas: Thanks for having me. It’s a real treat.

Billy Saas: We’re excited to have you here and to celebrate the publication and to discuss the substance of your piece for Money in the Left: History, Theory, Practice titled, “Modern Money and the Black University Concept.” Before we get into that, or maybe as a way to get into that, could you talk to us a little bit about how you found yourself at this project? What is your research background and what brought you to be interested in the Black university concept?

Andrew Douglas: I’m a political theorist, and have fairly recently come to money and the philosophy of money. Most of my work over the past decade or so has been focused on histories of Black radicalism, Black Marxism. My two most recent books have dealt with critiques of racial capitalism in the works of DuBois and Martin Luther King, and Walter Rodney and others. I’ve taught for the past 13 years at Morehouse College, the historically Black liberal arts college in Atlanta. The “Black university concept,” which I think we’ll have an opportunity to talk about in some depth as the conversation unfolds, that’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. But I haven’t really been thinking about this in relation to money and finance until fairly recently. A few years ago, I started teaching a class on debt at Morehouse, and I was prompted for whatever reason to get on Twitter, as part of this new class that I was teaching. I had, for years, sort of avoided all forms of social media, but finally in 2021, I decided to get on Twitter to expose myself to some new things and try to learn some new things. One of the things I was exposed to was Money on the Left, and some thinking about money and modern monetary theory. Gradually, I began to incorporate some of that into my teaching. When y’all put out the piece that you did for the AAUP, I think it was Scott, and maybe Benjamin Wilson were the authors of that one. That piece really got me thinking about monetary experimentation and philosophy of money in the context of what I had been thinking about for quite some time in the Black university concept and movement. I started thinking about doing a historical piece, where I could put some of this new thinking about money in conversation with some of the history of Black radical institution building. My sense is that there’s some real overlap with what you all are trying to do with the ‘Uni’ currency project, and what the theorists of the Black university in the mid 20th century were trying to do. I just wrote this piece to kind of draw out some of those connections, and also try to think through some of the tensions between those two. But that’s kind of how I got here.

Billy Saas: Like you said, you have a background in political science, you have previously written on racial capitalism. The introduction of Twitter into one’s life can be a radically changing experience. Is there a through line that you can identify through your own research that if you were asked by say, tenure review committee, how to make sense of your research, how did you end up here, do you think that you could draw that through line pretty clearly?

Andrew Douglas: Yeah, I could draw that throughline without Twitter, for sure. I’ve been thinking for a long time about political economy, critical theories of capitalism, and I was trained in a kind of Marxist, European Critical Theory tradition, and pretty quickly after graduate school became more firmly rooted in Black radicalism, Black Marxist, Black sort of radical variations on Marxist critical theory. Political economy and thinking critically about capitalism has always been central to my work. I think the turn to money, in particular, even if that was kind of prompted by some things I was exposed to on Twitter, it’s all organically connected to thinking broadly about political economy and how we organize institutions within capitalist societies to try to mitigate some of the worst possible outcomes of market, commercial society. 

Scott Ferguson: If you were to introduce our listeners out there, who might only have a vague sense of the Black radical tradition, Black Marxisms of all kinds, what would you tell them are some of the key tenets of those traditions? And maybe, tell us a little bit more about what some of your previous books have offered those traditions?

Andrew Douglas: In 2019, I published a book on Du Bois. It’s called W.E.B. Du Bois and the Critique of the Competitive Society. It looks at his work in the 1930s, which was a period of transition for Du Bois. This was a period in which it became more distinctive. He had always been a critic of capitalism and empire. But in the 1930s, he became far more disillusioned with liberalism, broadly understood. I use the framework of what I call the “competitive society” as a way of articulating the distinctiveness of Du Bois’ critique of Western European modernity in the 1930s in a way that I think speaks to our neoliberal present now. This was a time period in the 1930s, when the term neoliberalism was coined, when market reformers were trying to promote competitive market relations and use the apparatus of the state to promote competitive market relations. Du Bois at this time was someone who was deeply worried about what our celebration of competitive market principles would mean for Black people and for race relations. He was concerned with the kind of mainline civil rights buy-in to this idea that we just need to give people the freedom to compete, and that would resolve racial conflict and tension and racial injustice and inequity. He saw early on that that kind of approach was just going to exacerbate racist animosities. So the book I wrote in 2019 deals with some of those questions. Then, the more recent one I did on Martin Luther King with my colleague, Jared Loggins at Amherst College, tries to use contemporary discourse on racial capitalism to reconstruct Martin Luther King’s critique of capitalist society. We argue there that King, widely understood to be a critic of capitalism, we try to reconstruct the critical theory of capitalist society that is there in King, but not always fully articulated. We use contemporary discourse on racial capitalism to do that.  

Scott Ferguson: Great, well, maybe we can plunge into the article you wrote for the Money on the Left journal, and start with the, I think, first and most appropriate question, what is this “Black university concept” as you understand it?

Andrew Douglas: The concept, as I indicated in the paper, is not well studied, well known. I should qualify that a little bit. We at Morehouse where I teach, an HBCU [Historically Black Colleges and University], we had a roundtable discussion on it last semester. There are quite a few folks in the orbit here who are familiar with this tradition and this concept, but outside of HBCU communities, it’s certainly not well-studied or well known, and it doesn’t really have a definitive or singular genealogy. Du Bois’ writings in the 30s are a key reference point. As he was becoming more radical in this period, he had some writings on the Black University where he begins to articulate what becomes known in the 1960s as the Black university concept. But the concept really does come to maturity in the 60s, in the throes of the Black Studies movement, in the throes of anti colonial liberation struggle worldwide. If there’s one essay that I would recommend on the Black university, the idea of the Black university, it would probably be Vincent Harding’s 1970 piece in Ebony Magazine. I think it’s called “Toward the Black University.” He’s got this great line there that I repeat all the time: “Dark copies of dying whiteness are no longer needed.” This really kind of captures the essence of the Black university vision. The idea is that white civilization, European modernity, is unsustainable, unjust, unworthy of efforts to try to redeem it. Conventional universities, whether predominately white institutions, or what we call HBCUs, have long been kind of in service of this white world project. This is language that really comes from Du Bois. Du Bois had a notion of a white world, and a Black world. The white world was the European modernity that we all know. It’s property ownership, it’s capitalism, its empire, it’s anti-Black violence. The Black World is this alternative that has yet to manifest itself. But it cannot simply be a copy of this whiteness. So, the Black university vision is an idea of an institution that can hasten the demise of white world principles and practices and experiment with and imagine and build Black world alternatives. So, in the paper, I leaned on Adom Getachew’s notion of a “Black Worldmaking agenda.” I think the Black university project is part of a Black Worldmaking agenda, where it’s about building a new, more sustainable world that transcends this kind of violent, inequitable, racist white world that we know. I should stress that it should be clear, based on what I’ve said already, that I’m not talking about existing HBCUs, or Historically Black Colleges and Universities. HBCUs are integrated into the capitalist, imperialist project, from the very beginning. I think they’ve evolved accordingly to the point where today, they’re really run like neoliberal universities, just like any other. The Black university as a concept is really more of an aspirational ideal. There was always some question of whether or not that ideal could take root within established HBCUs. This was Du Bois’ struggle. He was ultimately pushed out of what was then Atlanta University, an HBCU in the 40s, because it was just not an environment that could nurture his vision. This was the struggle of Vincent Harding and so many others in the 1960s, who were trying to imagine and build the Black university as well. Harding, for example, was chair of the History Department at Spelman College in the mid-60s. He, of course, was well known for authoring Martin Luther King’s 1967 anti-Vietnam War speech, “A Time to Break Silence.” Then, when King was assassinated, Harding was called upon to lead a library as part of the King Memorial Center. Coretta Scott King called upon him to build a library and a scholarly apparatus in the King legacy. But even that, he felt, was too tied to white philanthropy, in ways that would not allow him to kind of carry on his vision for a space of Black study and Black radicalism, and pan-African scholarship and research and community building in the way that he wanted to do. He broke off and founded the Institute of the Black World in the early 1970s. My co-author, Jared Loggins, and I have written about this. If anyone’s interested, we’ve got a short, very accessible piece in The Boston Review thinking about how some of the theorists of the Black university in the mid-60s were compelled to break off and try to build institutional spaces for Black study and Black learning and Black scholarship that were not rooted in established HBCUs. For a long time, I’ve been really interested in trying to revitalize, renew, and recommit to this idea of the Black university concept and vision and think about whether or not there’s any potential to build something like this from within established HBCUs. I think that’s really what brought me to this question of money and finance: how do we materially support the building of this kind of institution?

Billy Saas: I’d like to explore your work and the trajectory of your work on the Black University concept and your engagement with the history of the Black radical tradition. I’d like to know if you think it’s a competing vision or a complementary vision, but an alternate vision as articulated in the work of Fred Moten, and Stefano Harney, which is their project on The Undercommons: Fugitive Planning and Black Study, which you don’t engage in this piece, but I presume you have factored into your argument and advocacy. What do you have to say about their work visa vie your own?

Andrew Douglas: This is definitely something that Jared Loggins and I discussed both in the concluding chapter to our book on King and in the spin off piece that we did for Boston Review, “The Lost Promise of Black Study,” taking that term “Black Study” from Harney and Moten, and now others who have taken up that term, like Joshua Myers, and so forth. The reason why the concept of the undercommons doesn’t surface in the paper that I’ve written for Money on the Left is because I think the idea of the undercommons is born out of a notion that the university is a capitalist, imperialist, largely white supremacist institution, that is unreformable and that liberatory education, what Harney and Moten call Black study is relegated to what they call the undercommons. It’s not in your formal classes, in your for credit, accredited course of study, that you really get the real education. It’s what happens in the hallways, after class, in the dorm rooms, on weekends, in your on campus activism, a disruption of a speaker coming to campus and the conversations and the reading groups that you put together in anticipation of that sort of work, that’s sort of the undercommons of the university where the real work goes on. The reason why that notion doesn’t really appear in the piece that I’ve written for Money on the Left is because in some ways, I’m trying to imagine whether or not a different approach to university finance can move us beyond this notion that the real good work in the university has to be relegated to the undercommons. Is it possible that we can transform the university in ways that make what Harney and Moten called the undercommons more of the commons proper. I’m certainly attracted, generally, to this idea of the undercommons. I experience it in my own work on campus. It often does feel like what we’re compelled to do by our accreditation bodies, and by our deans and all the rest is the least genuine, educational work and experience that we can be a part of. And that the real work happens when students who are not formally in your class come in and ask you a question about Fanon or something.

Scott Ferguson: Can “learning outcomes” be radical?

Andrew Douglas: Right, exactly. Yeah. You know, maybe here and there on the margins, but it certainly cannot be the core curriculum.

Billy Saas: The topic of money: Your approach is radically different from from Harney and Moten where they have the chapter on debt. They’re participating in and extending a tradition of a kind of utopian, post-money vision. Whereas yours is coming at it from a different tack. I’m not suggesting they’re incompatible. It just seems like that’s where the projects might diverge.

Andrew Douglas: Yeah. Some of the questions that I do raise in the end and some of the work that I’m trying to do now that doesn’t factor into this particular essay, do push on some questions that are emerging from Black Studies literature that I think do raise some kind of challenging questions that I’m sympathetic to about the kind of promise of public or what I call “counter public money” or modern money as a kind of means to building transformative institutions.

Scott Ferguson: I’d like you to walk us through your rather nuanced, even if cursory, genealogy of the Black university concept and the thoughts about money and about financing, that sometimes in that discourse, you do find openings, you do find possibilities, but other times, and very often, you find dead ends, stop gaps, cul de sacs. You have a sophisticated and subtle way of approaching this discourse and this conversation that I’d like you to spell out for our listeners a little bit, if you can.

Andrew Douglas: Theorists of the Black university imagined an institution dedicated entirely to Pan African study, and to Black community development. They were very good on the curriculum and the pedagogy side of things. They laid out brilliant, and really inspiring visions of what curriculum and programming would look like anchored in liberatory pedagogy, African-centered pedagogy. But they weren’t so good when it came to thinking about how the institution could serve as an engine of sustainable community development. This was really crucial. They wanted an institution that wasn’t just an ivory tower or a space for theory, but it was really, practically transformative for the communities that they were serving in which they were rooted. So the question was: How could the institution materially function within a hostile world, within a capitalist, imperialist, white supremacist world? And they kept running into dead ends. All the funding proposals were essentially calls to redistribute private wealth. It was either about calling on the government to tax and then give them money, redistribute through tax and spend. They weren’t confident that taxpayers and the state were going to support this kind of investment in a Black radical institution, or they thought it was going to have to come through philanthropy. They didn’t think that was particularly viable, or the money would have to come through tuition. But given the communities that they were trying to serve, and what they were trying to do that was, of course, extremely limited. This the 1960s is when I’m focusing on the theorists and the writers who were trying to imagine this. There was an important conference at Howard University in 1968, called “Toward the Black University,” where folks from a range of disciplines got together and tried to hash out different visions for how this might work. They were working from what I call a “private money” paradigm. I suspect most, if not all, listeners will be familiar with this kind of classical orthodoxy. This idea that money comes from the private sector and needs to be captured and redistributed. Obviously, a “public money” approach opens up all sorts of new opportunities here for our thinking–in particular, if we begin to think of the university as a site of monetary experimentation. What the theorists of the Black university wanted to do was use the university as a kind of anchor or centralized node to mobilize resources in more locally accountable and locally productive ways. The labor power was there, they just didn’t have the means to mobilize it. This is where I think we might introduce monetary experimentation as a means of realizing what the Black university concept was meant to do. If the university, as a kind of governing authority within a particular community, can establish itself as a currency issuing institution, can establish a demand for its currency, can use that currency arrangement to determine investment priorities and mobilize labor, all of this is like an organic extension of the Black university concept. It’s just they didn’t have the language or conceptual resources to articulate it. They were subjected to the sort of “monetary silencing” that Jakob Feinig, whom you’ve had on the show, talks about in his great book. In the 1960s, the theorists of the Black university had been subjected to this orthodox view of money as a means of exchange that emerges organically from the private activity of market actors, and it needs to be raised or captured and redistributed, as opposed to thinking of how public or communities that are hierarchically or centrally organized, can use money creation as a means of mobilizing resources. What I argue in the paper is that this new way of thinking about money is a kind of organic extension of what the theorists of the Black university were doing. They kept running into dead ends, because they were thinking through this private money paradigm. But this public money paradigm, what I call a “Black counterpublic money paradigm”–and I want to flesh that distinction out a little bit–really opens the door, frees them to realize the vision of the Black university in a lot of ways.

Scott Ferguson: I’m endlessly fascinated by the ways that the private money paradigm licenses, naturalizes, reifies all kinds of other systemic and justices, including racism. In the broader Modern Monetary Rheory community, there’s a well understood critique of the taxpayer paradigm, as a racialized one, based on any number of our colleagues’ contributions. White people have been provisioned to earn more money in a white supremacist society, and if we have a private money paradigm in which money can only be gotten through revenue or through recycling it through taxes or through bond sales, then money is de facto white money, and its whiteness has to be redistributed to non-whiteness.

Andrew Douglas: Yep.

Scott Ferguson: Your genealogy here, I think, is expanding that work and showing us this in another situation and in a particular place in time in the 60s, in this Black radical tradition surrounding universities trying to reimagine and radicalize what the university can be. The racialization of money, even despite their best efforts to push against racism, is pushing against some of the very radicals who would like to undermine it. Because of monetary silencing, they don’t necessarily have the tools to do so.

Billy Saas: It’s a conception that is reinforced by, in most radical traditions, the Marxist rejection and negative orientation to the money form. So, you have the double punch, neoclassical Orthodoxy in the mainstream in your economics courses, and the critical historical background of Marxist anti-money positions. There’s so many good reasons, I think, to imagine, or to help us understand why this sort of thinking wasn’t operative and wasn’t active in those conversations that they were having. You mentioned that you have and will continue, I would imagine, to participate in conversations around the Black university around cooperation and different modes of operating differently to the existing structures that are in place because of the private money paradigm. How has or how do you anticipate that this work on the Uni and the counterpublic money approach that you’re proposing for the Black university concept– How will that be? Or how has that been received by your colleagues and other folks who are currently interested in something like the Black university concept?

Andrew Douglas: Well, I’m hopeful that I’ll be able to contribute to expanding folks’ imaginations around money. It can be such a heavy lift to try to get people to think about money in these sorts of heterodox ways. It requires more than just a casual conversation more than just a 15 minute paper presentation at a conference.

Scott Ferguson: We hear you.

Andrew Douglas: I will say this: A year or so ago, when I was writing the first draft of this paper, I actually taught a class here at Morehouse. It was modern political thought was the umbrella title of the class, but it was really a special topics course on modern money in the Black university concept. Over the course of the semester, we got to the point where the 25 or so students who were taking that class were really intrigued by thinking about the possibilities here. But that required quite a bit of exposure to monetary theory, to both Orthodox and heterodox ideas about money, to you how the university is governed and structured, and how University finance exists now, in order to think about how it might be changed to function differently. That took a whole semester to really adequately introduce to folks. It does take some conversations. I’ll just add, I’ve got a piece that just came out in the AAUP journal on Du Bois. It’s trying to think about the university as a cooperative and to try thinking about the academic labor movement as part of a broader cooperative movement. Even though that piece doesn’t introduce the money stuff, I think there is room for the academic labor movement to think seriously about the legal structure of our institutions. I think that can and should include thinking about money as a creature of the law as part of that process. There’s a great new book out–it doesn’t deal with money, but it’s a fascinating book–and I think there is a connection here with the Uni currency idea and this thinking about money as a creature of the law. This book by Timothy Kaufman Osbourne called the Autocratic Academy traces over time how the North American University has come to be structured legally as a property corporation, where absentee governing boards have unilateral governing authority over the institution as property. They’re entrusted with carrying out the will of donors and protecting the asset value of the institution as property. The takeaway of that book is that we can fight for shared governance, we can even organize into collective bargaining units, but at the end of the day, because of the way the university is legally chartered, governing boards hold unilateral governing authority. They can do what they want, or they’re conscripted into governing the institution according to the dictates of the competitive accumulative logic of the property corporation. The takeaway from that book is that the only real solution is to dissolve the corporate structure of the university and recharter the university as a member cooperative. I think there is a broad interest in trying to imagine the university as a cooperative, that is governed as a cooperative.

Scott Ferguson: And legally designated as such.

Andrew Douglas: Yeah, exactly. Bernard Harcourt up at Columbia, in a couple of weeks I’m going to participate in a conversation with him about the cooperative university. I’m going to try to introduce some thinking about finance and money and credit creation and complementary currencies. Insofar as we’re thinking here about money as a creature of the law, we’re thinking about universities as creatures of the law. We’re thinking about how legal reforms, or public popular agency over these legal institutions, it’s all kind of connected. If we’re going to push the academic labor movement to think more radically about the need to recharter our institutions and to build momentum toward that outcome, then thinking about how we legally organize our monetary arrangements can and has to be part of that.

Billy Saas: It’s interesting to think about how that notion of the cooperative university is so out of alignment with the day to day operation of the current university structure.

Andrew Douglas: Right, totally.

Billy Saas: However, at the same time, I think that is the image that is very actively cultivated by universities, as these places of yes, sharing of knowledge, as cooperative spaces where professors and students work together to discover the technologies and thinking of the future. So what you’re asking for is ultimately calling universities to be the things that they’re pretending and presenting themselves.

Andrew Douglas: Right. Don’t promote your community service, while simultaneously buying up property and gentrifying the neighborhood.

Billy Saas: Exactly. I’m excited that you brought up the class that you taught, because I remember when you shared your syllabus on Twitter. I was preparing to teach a class when you posted that syllabus, and I was motivated and inspired by the way you were directly going for it in a way that I am not used to, to do it more myself and to foreground the money question more often, instead of coming eventually to it.

Andrew Douglas: One of the most generative ideas that came out of that class was the idea that all 105, or however many HBCUs there are, joined together in a kind of monetary union and issue of currency that has receivability across campuses to sort of expand the scope of currency as currency. I think that’s intriguing. I have this crazy aspiration: I’m on the AAUP’s committee on historically Black institutions. Part of the reason why I accepted that appointment was this lofty idea that I could get all the HBCUs together, and we could really think radically about complementary currencies and radical approaches to university finance and really pioneer some new projects and experiments. I don’t know, maybe it’s possible. We’ll see.

Scott Ferguson: The thing about our Uni currency project is that it’s really adaptable to all kinds of circumstances, and it can be as bottom up and grassroots as one would want to pursue it. It can also build capacity by incorporating multiple institutions across scales. I think for us, the big picture, the end game would be to, essentially, force the US government at the federal level, to formally and legally grant credit-issuing power to a host of public institutions for a public purpose, essentially breaking the extremely exploitative and austere, private monopoly of the finance franchise, in which this country is essentially founded. Although this country has a history of monetary experimentation that is still going on today, for the most part the macro structure is that we have a federal government, which gives itself the right to create currency, and then we have a franchise system that says private banks and private financial firms on and offshore can create dollars according to certain requirements. And all of our other public institutions–our states, our municipalities, our counties, our cities, our school systems K-12, our universities–you all have to pretend to recycle all the money that’s created by these narrow channels. There’s something incredibly anti-democratic and austere and unjust about the very structure and foundations of this system. The Uni provides, I think, an important political, rhetorical, imaginative problem-space from which to begin to contest that status quo and to bring it out into the light. Who knows where this might lead in terms of political results? But I think for us, first and foremost, it’s about ending the monetary silencing about the structure that we have and saying: Wait a minute, is it not just unjust, but actually inefficient to only give a finance franchise to these private actors for private purposes, for the purpose of private profit and exploitation, and actively deny it to these major public institutions, let alone new institutions along new cooperative models that we might create along the way? To me, I always like to separate this question from the question of optimism versus pessimism. Will this go anywhere? Is this the revolution or is it not? Is it just going to be co opted or is it not? There is something critically important politically about challenging the silencing around the structure that we have. That goes further than only critiquing capitalism as if capitalism. This opens up political contestation to a wholly different framework.

Andrew Douglas: Yeah, agreed.

Scott Ferguson: Maybe we can talk about your idea of the Black counterpublic, especially around the university.

Andrew Douglas: The basic public money, private money contrast is familiar to most listeners here. My concern is thinking about Black history, Black struggle, thinking about Black institution building, thinking about the way in which the state, and the official public sphere have been set up to control and exploit and underdeveloped Black people and communities. I’m interested in how those communities have established or how they might establish alternatives, or what I call “counterpublic” institutions. My sense is basically, certainly within the United States, but I think this applies more broadly in an anti-Black global context, that Black people, Black communities are relegated to a counterpublic space, insofar as formal public or state institutions or international institutions that are dominated by imperial powers are just not set up to work for them. This is really the concept of Black counterpublic money is what I’m trying to introduce in this paper. Using the Black university as a case study, or a site for how the Black counterpublic as a space of monetary experimentation might play out. My thinking is that this might be a basis for a larger project, a book project that I’m imagining, tentatively, titled Black Counterpublic Money: Monetary Experimentation in the Black Radical Tradition. Thinking about how Black counterpublics have sought to organize institutional frameworks, over and against the kind of formal institutions of the formal public sphere. Thinking very specifically about what monetary arrangements or monetary institutions, as part of a Black counterpublic agenda, has looked like or might be made to look like. Again, I think a big part of this is about to lean into Jakob Feinig’s framework of monetary silencing and democratizing moral economies of money. Trying to think about that in the context of the Black radical critique of the state, Black radical critique of Global capitalism and empire. I think there is a risk that in the shift from Orthodox private money thinking to public money, there is a tendency to not pay sufficient attention to the extent to which public money, by itself, may not work for Black people. That certain public money approaches or initiatives may actually exacerbate the problems for Black communities, whether in the United States or, you know, in different sort of parts of the global supply chain. That’s what I’m trying to think through. I think we need to further complicate the shift from a private money to a public money framework to try to think through both some of the possibilities for what I call Black counterpublic money, but also some of the sort of challenges that exist there. Again, this piece that I’ve written is just a first stab at this using the Black university as a kind of case study or a canvas on which to sketch out some of these concerns and questions.

Scott Ferguson: A lot of these concerns and questions, I think, take shape around a complex treatment of sovereignty, monetary sovereignty and sovereignty in the latter part of your piece. Would you mind exploring that with us a bit here. 

Andrew Douglas: Yeah, sure. I mean, I’ve got to admit, I’m a little hesitant here. Sovereignty is a foundational concept in my field of Political Theory, so I should be like a total expert on this. It’s one of those things where I know enough about the literature in the debates on sovereignty to know that I probably shouldn’t be talking about it.

Billy Saas: Just start with Bodin and get us going.

Andrew Douglas: There’s some great work coming out in real time. It seems like sovereignty, maybe it’s always been the tip of the iceberg in my field, and I just haven’t been privy to it, and I now am. There’s some really great work, just to flag a couple of really good books that have come out in the last year. My political theory colleague, Inés Valdez, has a new book out thinking about sovereignty in the context of the Black radical tradition. David Timmons has a great new book out thinking about this through North American indigenous thought. But I’ll just say a couple of things. One, the notion of monetary sovereignty is, of course, central to Modern Money Theory, this notion that people must have some sovereign control over the monetary system. I’m drawing, Scott to your suggestion, that we might introduce some alternative language here. So instead of thinking about sovereignty, with its, you know, invocation of borders and security and insiders and outsiders, and this really absurd notion that the sovereign inside is somehow independent of everything on the outside. Instead of invoking these familiar Western conceits, maybe we ought to think about interdependency, and responsibility in our collective capacity to use money to do things, specifically to nurture interdependency and responsibility, rather than kind of disavow it. I’m attracted to the way in which you all have sought to kind of complicate and in some ways move beyond the framework and the language of sovereignty in your thinking about modern money. I try to run with some of that and in the paper, but I do so very specifically, by leaning on a particular figure who is integral to the Black university movement, and that is the economist Robert S. Browne. I was up at the Schomburg looking through his papers in January while I was revising this paper, and I came across just a really interesting passage. For those who aren’t familiar, Robert Span Browne was initially a program officer with USAID and its predecessor in the late 50s, but quickly became an outspoken critic of US foreign policy in Southeast Asia. He was a founder of the Black economics research center in Harlem, directed that for many, many years, was a founding editor of the Review of Black Political Economy, which is a journal that is still running. He passed away, I’m not sure entirely when. [2004] In the mid 60s, he was integral in those conversations around the Black university concept. He attended that famous conference at Howard in 1968. As a trained economist, he was someone that many of the participants in those conversations really look to for help on the financing question, the funding question. As a figure of his time, he was very constrained by this private money orthodoxy and didn’t really have the conceptual tools to think beyond it. When I was up at the Schomburg, I came across this passage from a piece he published in 1975, where he’s thinking more broadly about Black institutions, not just the university, but Black control of Black finance institutions. Maybe I’ll just read this passage, it speaks to this question of sovereignty in ways that I think are potentially rather generative. So here’s a quote he says, “We need a range of soundly conceived, Black-financed and therefore Black-controlled institutions, which can carry on the struggle on our behalf, much as sovereign governments carry on the struggle for their national constituencies. But since we lack sovereignty, our institutions must in effect become our government. That is why they must be Black. That is why they must be funded by the Black community and accountable to it. Our contributions should be seen by us as an obligatory tax, whose enforcement agent is not the IRS, but our personal commitment to Black survival. My brothers and sisters, let us get on with the serious business of freeing ourselves from domestic colonialism and move ahead with the business of self government. If we can successfully build such institutions, meanwhile, resisting the external pressures to divide us from one another, I have every confidence that our beloved Black community can survive, prosper, and illuminate the way for others yet to come.” There’s a lot going on here, but this idea that he’s acknowledging that since we lack sovereignty, I think what I’m particularly interested in here is this idea that the absence of sovereignty conventionally understood is not perhaps a deficit or something to be overcome, but perhaps a kind of asset to how we imagine monetary arrangements beyond the paradigm. In the paper, I speak a little bit about how this critique and suspicion of sovereignty has long been integral to the Black radical tradition. If you look at one of the key spokespersons of theorists of that tradition, Cedric Robinson, his first book really goes after sovereignty as one of the kind of founding core constitutive principles of white European civilization and really has to be challenged and problematized. It’s a concept that I think sits problematically at the heart of Modern Money Theory, and that we need to complicate for reasons, Scott, that I think you’ve been particularly articulate in expressing. My thought here, again, is that we see the seeds of a critique of sovereignty that can be extended to a critique of monetary sovereignty in the work of a figure like Robert S. Browne in the early 70s. Once again, I think there are ways in which we can put new thinking about money, new heterodox thinking about money and monetary experimentation into conversation with this history of Black radical institution building in ways that are really quite generative. I think some of this stuff on sovereignty, there’s just some really generative lessons to be teased out here.

Scott Ferguson: I noticed that in the quote you read, even though I imagine that Browne is probably working with a money recycling paradigm, I noticed in the quote that you read us, there is no talk of redistribution. So that quote actually lends itself to what MMT would call a tax driven money.

Andrew Douglas: Exactly. Absolutely. Thanks for bringing that out. I mean, that’s the other reason why I quoted this passage and why I was so happy to find it in this unpublished manuscript in the Schomburg because I think you’re absolutely right. It’s about using taxation to create a demand for a currency, and that’s it. That’s all he says about.

Scott Ferguson: And it doesn’t have to be foundationally coercive. It doesn’t have to be backed by the “man with the gun.”

Andrew Douglas: Yeah, exactly right. It’s understood here and articulated here as an obligation based on a responsibility to one’s community.

Billy Saas: That’s beautiful. Another interesting thing about this is that, I think it might be fair to say that without the Modern Money Theory perspective, this quote when you found in the Schomburg might not have read so interestingly, but at the same time as it kind of activates this new lens, you’re using that new lens to turn it back and critique MMT. It’s just a beautiful movement there. I guess, on that note, one of the ways that one’s mind might go in encountering this quote, without the kind of public money or counterpublic money perspective would be: Yes, we need to bank Black. We need to patronize Black businesses. I think that would be the conventional, liberal neoliberal lens that would be brought to this text. Do you think that’s going too far?

Scott Ferguson: Or the “Black capitalism” lens.

Andrew Douglas: Yeah, I need to do a little bit more work on Browne to really be able to sort of tether this to his thinking in any way. But these were the kinds of questions that he was absolutely thinking through. He was a critic of capitalism, but largely working from this kind of private money framework trying to think about how to pool resources and all that sort of stuff.

Billy Saas: But he’s thinking bigger. He’s not saying we need Black banks. 

Andrew Douglas: No, absolutely. The passage that I read is absolutely part of a much more imaginative envisioning of monetary arrangements for radical transformation. How can we use monetary design, new approaches to public finance, to liberate communities from the constraints of capitalist logic?

Scott Ferguson: You end this piece with a word of caution or a cautioning question that has been hovering over our conversation for quite a while. I want to read this question or this series of questions. “Does the public banking movement, even if made to incorporate Black colleges and universities, as licensed community development banks, with the power to issue credit, nevertheless, reflect a dead end-integration into the nation’s finance franchise as a kind of acceptance into the deracinating arms of the mother country?” And that’s a quote. You’re quoting somebody else there. “What would a more radical or more decolonizing politicization of money entail? And how, if at all, might a shift toward what I have dubbed Black counterpublic money help to build and sustain institutions that could advance that effort?” So at the end, you’re suggesting maybe using the conventional language of sovereignty, what might it mean to give up on a certain kind of autonomy or a certain kind of self-standing Black project? Are there not dangers of simply capitulating to a system of entrenched white supremacy that’s baked into the very institutions, even if it’s in the name of something that might appear to be better? And I’m wondering, do you have more thoughts about that, since you’ve penned these lines?

Andrew Douglas: You all saw an earlier version, a pre-R&R version of this article, which tried to articulate some of these questions a little more fully. I’ve scaled much of all of that back and saved it for another occasion, another paper. I think the readers were right, that this paper wasn’t the place to really flesh out some of that stuff. I’m not sure that I’m fully prepared to really do that now. Trying to think about racial capitalism and empire and the geopolitics of global supply chains, trying to think about the limits of monetary reform as a means of denaturalizing capitalism. Can we use money to fundamentally transform modes and relations of production? I think that some of this gets at my ambivalence with at least some of what flies under the banner of MMT. I’m not sure, you know. But if we use money to mobilize labor, we’re still commodifying labor power, we’re still compelling market actors to sell their labor power in order to survive. We’re still subjecting market actors to the impersonal domination of market society. Given the sheer power of capital to control markets, I think given the complexity of today’s global supply chains, I just wonder about the extent to which any sovereign country, we introduced the language of sovereignty, but any country, any more local complementary currency project, could really unravel or supplant the pitfalls of commercial civil society. And I just don’t know. Are we running up against a world that has been so thoroughly shaped and dominated by the logic and the materiality of capital that it’s become a force that no amount of tinkering with money can really undo. Or put differently, I think this was really the nature of Marx’s contention, that monetary reform is not really going to undo the demand for commodified labor and the capitalist value form and that we’re still going to be endlessly sort of wrestling with the impersonal domination of the market, so long as we use money as a means of mobilizing commodified labor. So these are some of the questions I’m trying to think through. I think there is room, and this is a paper that I’m trying to write now, to kind of bring some of Marx’s criticisms to bear on Modern Money theory. I think some of the criticisms of Marx from MMT are apt but I think he has some things about commodification of labor and the capitalist value form that we still need to sit with. Another figure I’m trying to think we have here is Fanon. This idea that we need to stretch Marxist analysis to deal with questions of empire and race and colonialism. I’m interested in what Fanon says about racial fetishism as a kind of corrective to Marx on the money fetish. This idea of whiteness as money or whiteness as credit and credibility. I mean, if we’re interested in not simply reducing calculations of creditworthiness to a logic of return on investment, are we nevertheless finding ourselves shaped and constrained by a more fundamental logic of anti-Blackness that shapes our understanding of credit worthiness? There’s some recent work in Black Studies scholarship that raises some of these questions, trying to think about whiteness as credibility, Blackness as unpayable debt. I want to think through some of this, so it’s premature for me to flesh out any substantive claims here, but just to kind of maybe bring the conversation full circle, if monetary experimentation in the Black radical tradition is and has been relegated to counterpublic spaces, appeal to public money by itself does not necessarily resolve that, and may even exacerbate. Those are some of the questions that I’m still trying to think through.

Scott Ferguson: Those are all really helpful and helpful challenges. I guess what I would say as a response, is that I have no optimism about an immediate dethroning of entrenched power that has been enfranchised by global legal systems and imperial structures. But I would still insist that it is those legal structures that condition, and that mediate that power in the first place. And that if you want to attack that power, you need to attack their conditions of possibility in that way. I would also raise the question: What would a genuinely democratic, cooperative grassroots Uni project mean for the Marxist critique of the “value-form”? Is it even fair to use the same language or analytical vocabulary to talk about it? tthis is not an example of what I just said, but Billy was talking about his own classroom currencies and the conversations about what should we mobilize this currency to do? There was an ongoing conversation about particular needs that were identified by students who are parts of the community. They are  on the ground and they live these lives, they see where the lacks are, they see where the deficiencies are. I have a really hard time appealing to the language of commodification, or a kind of external imposition, or alienation of labor, when we’re really stretching the bounds of what monetary experimentation can be. I think that Marx is often thinking about money as a circulation problem even if it even if it conditions production, production is still somehow logically first, just to give a sort of push in the other direction. I hear your concerns, but I also wonder how these kinds of radical monetary experiments can really challenge these logics, whether or not they’re taking down multinational capitalist power structures, immediately or not.

Andrew Douglas: Yeah, I mean, and I think Marx’s own life work may be instructive here in so far as he never gave up on efforts at monetary reform. He just thought they weren’t necessarily going to ultimately solve the problem as he understood it. So regardless of where am I thinking, which is still very much in progress and not settled lands on this question of monetary reform and monetary experimentation as a kind of means of denaturalize, wherever that sort of lands, we got to try. I think the Uni currency project is a worthy effort at getting us started and introducing more folks to the concerns of, again, using Feinig’s language monetary silencing, and the possibilities of trying to claim and forge agency over monies design and opening up new possibilities for how our communities or publics or counterpublics can use money as a kind of utility to achieve outcomes that they would not be able to otherwise. So I’m on board with all that.

Billy Saas: I think it’s a wonderful place to start wrapping it up. By the time this is published, you will have participated in that conversation you mentioned at Columbia University. We’re anticipating it now. What are you looking forward to talking about there? And where can people who are listening now turn to find out more?

Andrew Douglas: Yeah, Bernard Hardcourt. I’m not sure how many folks are familiar with his work. He’s a legal theorist, political theorist at Columbia. He’s got a new work out on cooperation, and he’s doing a series of conversations around cooperation and cooperative movements. The 13th and final is on the cooperative university, and that’s what I’ve been asked to participate in. I think they’re all recorded and posted on YouTube, so folks can see them there. There’s also some resources on the website. Maybe we can in the show notes link to some of that. I hope to introduce and plan to introduce some conversation around money and finance which I think is sort of a missing piece for some of the discussions they’ve been having around cooperatives and cooperative movement building. I think there’s a real opportunity to expand both that project and the money side of things by sort of bringing these two discourse communities together. So I’ll try to do that, focusing again on the university as a kind of concrete site at which some of this might play out. So I’m excited about it.

Billy Saas: Excellent. Is there anything else you’d like to share that you’re working on?

Andrew Douglas: Yeah, we’ve been talking quite a bit about Du Bois. So I’ll just do a quick plug for a new volume that a few other colleagues and I have in the works. It’s an edited collection of Du Bois’ writings on political economy. So hopefully that’ll be out within the next year or so. There’s some previously unpublished work if you can imagine that. There’s still unpublished material from Du Bois out there. So we’re excited about that. I’ve been searching in vain for some creative heterodox thinking about money in Du Bois and I have not found it, which is fine. So that’s a project and then, I don’t know where this kind of larger book that I’m imagining on this notion of Black counterpublic money, where that’s going, but that’s what I’m going to be working on for the foreseeable future.

Scott Ferguson: Keep us posted.

Billy Saas: Andrew Douglas, thank you so much for joining us on Money on the Left.Andrew Douglas: Thank you, I really appreciate it.

* Thanks to the Money on the Left production teamWilliam Saas (audio editor), Mike Lewis (transcription), & Robert Rusch (graphic art)

Aesthetics after Autonomy with Grant Kester

Money on the Left is joined by Grant Kester, professor of Art History at University of California, San Diego. We speak with Kester about his multi-decade career, researching and teaching the history of socially engaged art. 

Kester’s scholarship underscores the limits and contradictions of the dominant modern Western tradition of aesthetics. Such aesthetics value “autonomy,” insisting that the artist, the artistic medium, or art as an institution ought to stand alone and outside of society and its corrupting influences. Paradoxically, autonomy in this tradition is supposed to secure art’s political dimension by blunting and often deferring any claims to immediate social efficacy. Kester, by contrast, affirms what is variously called dialogical aesthetics or socially engaged art, a collaborative sensuous practice in public space, which aims to transform thought and action by forging complex relationships among artists and publics.

Here, we focus on Kester’s two recent books published by Duke University Press. In The Sovereign Self: Aesthetic Autonomy from the Enlightenment to the Avant-Garde (August 2023), Kester examines the evolving discourse of aesthetic autonomy from its origins in the Enlightenment through avant-garde projects and movements in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. In Beyond the Sovereign Self Aesthetic Autonomy from the Avant-Garde to Socially Engaged Art (December 2023), Kester then shows how socially engaged art provides an alternative aesthetic with greater possibilities for critical practice. Instead of grounding art in its distance from the social, Kester demonstrates how socially engaged art, developed in conjunction with forms of social or political resistance, encourages the creative capacity required for collective political transformation. 

Throughout our conversation, we tease out affinities between Kester’s scholarship and heterodox theories of public money and provisioning. Problematizing unquestioned desires to cordon off aesthetics from political economy, we call on artists and activists to contest, reconstruct, and build anew the forms of mediation that heterogeneously shape a shared sensuous life. 

Visit our Patreon page here: https://www.patreon.com/MoLsuperstructure

Music by Nahneen Kula: www.nahneenkula.com

Transcript

The following was transcribed by Mike Lewis and has been lightly edited for clarity.

Scott Ferguson:  Grant Kester, welcome to Money on the Left.

Grant Kester:  Why thank you, Scott and Billy, happy to be here.

Scott Ferguson:  So we’ve brought you on the show today to give you an opportunity to talk to us about your two new books from Duke University Press, which as you were telling us before we started recording, were actually part of one larger book project that got split into two. The first one is called The Sovereign Self: Aesthetic Autonomy from the Enlightenment to the Avant-Garde, and the second book is called Beyond the Sovereign Self: Aesthetic Autonomy from the Avant-Garde to Socially Engaged Art. But before we jump into this discussion about the two texts, we want to give you an opportunity to tell our listenership a little bit about your professional and perhaps personal background.

Grant Kester:  Very good. Happy to give you a little brief rundown. I’ll make this brief, because it’s probably not very interesting. But I grew up in Kansas City, and then moved to Washington DC for high school, and went to community college outside of DC, dropped out of community college, moved to Atlanta to work in commercial photography. When I was there, I got interested in photography in general, and I’d go to the galleries and so on. So that kind of drew me into art a little bit, really, for the first time, because I didn’t have much exposure to it before then. My mom used to like to decoupage old master paintings onto wastebaskets and stuff, which is kind of awesome. But nobody I knew that I grew up with was like, I’m gonna go to art school or anything like that. So that got me interested. And then I started to be interested in writing about it at that time. I published my first review probably in 1982 or so for Atlanta Art Papers. All that led to a shift, and I ended up going to art school in Baltimore, at the Maryland Institute College of Art in Baltimore, which is very old fashioned, but also not old fashioned in terms of conservative but just they’ve been around a long time. So art classes back then you had to sit there and draw from casts from Greek and Roman sculpture, that sort of a thing. But this is the 1980s, I think I was there for ‘84 through ‘86. So it was the height of postmodernism, and a lot of photo appropriation going on. So I did that kind of work. But also at the same time, because of my writing, I got interested in broader issues outside the arts. A lot of my early research is on reform culture, and reform movements in the United States, going back to the progressive era. History as a social documentary and the visual culture of political reform movements, and so on. When I was at the Maryland Institute, I curated an exhibition along with a faculty member named Diane Fessler, on activist forms of photography, basically. It was called “Expanding Commitment: Diverse Approaches to Socially Engaged Photography”. And that was in 1986. I was doing my art practice at the same time, but then I was shifting and finding it more interesting to deal with the kind of historical and theoretical issues. That led me to eventually get a job for an art magazine called The New Art Examiner. That was published in DC, so I ran their DC office. At that time, this was the middle of the “Culture Wars” of the 1980s. So we were in DC, I would talk to people at the endowment (National Endowment for the Arts) and I worked at the Washington Project for the Arts and the Corcoran at the same time, when the Robert Mapplethorpe show was canceled, and there were protests and so on. So I kind of got to see firsthand the turbulence of Culture Wars with Jesse Helms and all the rest of it at that time. That made an impression on me, I think in terms of the politics of culture. After that, I got another job as an editor at a journal called Afterimage in upstate New York, in Rochester. That would have been about 1990 or so. That’s a journal associated with media criticism, photography, video and so on, but it always had a pretty strong political orientation in terms of the editors before me, Catherine Lord or David Trend, who had an interest in the cultural politics of media. I had, at the same time, started a graduate program part time at the University of Rochester because at that point, I was like, Okay, I think I’m going to keep doing this writing research thing. Maybe I better actually get a degree. I was going to school part time and working as an editor full time, at Afterimage. I had a couple of essays at that point where I was, I think, segue-ing from the visual politics of photography and documentary into art more generally. One of them was “Rhetorical Questions,” which is an analysis of the ways in which certain kinds of art practices in the 1980s: appearing in galleries and museums would often be staged as these kinds of provocations and attacks on the viewer. I called the essay “Rhetorical Questions” because my experience was consistently that the people that were going to see the exhibits did not think they were the targets of the attacks. I realized there was a kind of recursive loop going on there where somebody’s being lectured or attacked, but the people that the work is being presented to see that as a hypothetical person. I realized that there’s a rhetorical discourse underneath this work, which has to do with evoking a certain kind of audience, the actual audience that shows up and consumes it. And I was interested in those disconnections in that essay. Then I did another essay, around 1995 called “Aesthetic Evangelists,” which was, on the other side of the coin, a critique of community based art practices at the time.

Scott Ferguson:  You were critiquing community based art practices at the time?

Grant Kester:  I was, yeah. There was a project called “Soul Shadows: Urban Warrior Myths” done by an artist from New Orleans. She’d had the experience of getting mugged in the French Quarter. This is an artist who was white, and she realized she was carrying along a lot of this kind of residual fear of Black men, which is a very positive reflective thing to be self aware of. To deal with that she decided to develop this open ended collaborative project with some young Black men in New Orleans who were…one of them might have been incarcerated, but they were associated with gang activity. And it turned into these large photos, where they dressed up a certain persona and so on and so forth, and became an installation. So the installation then traveled to places like Baltimore, and elsewhere, and it was used in conjunction with what at the time would have been kind of neo-conservative cultural and social policy initiatives to “scared straight”, and “Oh, see what happens with the gang members when they express contrition.” The whole thing felt kind of unseemly to me because it failed to problematize the nature of poverty and racism very clearly. It was being used in conjunction with these public agencies that were pushing a particular argument about Black poverty as being in some ways, there’s a whole series of these conservative arguments that go way back about “culture of poverty”, and it’s “Black poverty is the result of the lack of father in the home”, and Daniel Moynihan, and all of these really pernicious arguments that are what William Ryan called back in the day “blaming the victim”. So I saw this work being employed in that context. That led to a broader reflection on the problematics of middle class reform movements, and community based art practice. I think it was me just exploring the politics of two different domains, so to speak. Yeah. After Afterimage, I finished my dissertation, which was primarily on aesthetic philosophy and the 18th century, because I just got interested through my coursework in issues of the aesthetic and the politics of the aesthetic. I worked in the philosophy area and so the dissertation looks at the concept of possessive individualism, the idea of a certain kind of a self who sees their identity as caught up with their ability to impose their will on the world and appropriate it to their needs. The kind of thing you see in John Locke and early modern philosophers of that nature. I was looking at that in connection to early evangelical Christianity and the concept of harvesting souls, figures like William Wilberforce and a lot of the Methodists and so on. They’re really the pre-history of what we think of as evangelical Christianity in the 18th century and landscape gardens. Landscape gardens are a great example because they’re large gardens in England that were created by wealthy landowners and intended as a kind of Thorstein Veblen expression of their wealth and power, that they could have this much land that they’re not cultivating. There was this obsession with trying to make your landscape garden look larger than it really is. I got fascinated by the aesthetics of that and how the garden designers would try to design the gardens to look both natural and in some ways, completely natural, but were also completely manufactured. All of these were ways, I suppose for myself, that I was working through notions of the aesthetic in my dissertation. After that, I had a series of teaching jobs, Cranbrook Academy of Art, Washington State, Arizona State the usual schlep that one does. Then, I finally ended up at UCSD. So that’s the prehistory, anyway.

Scott Ferguson:  So am I right to see you making a linkage back then between a kind of not just a Lockean sense of self possession and world mastery, but there’s a Lockean version of the labor theory of value. The idea that the pre-social individual mixes their labor with nature and then whatever results is a kind of extension of that sovereign, that autonomous selfhood. Are you saying that the garden, the English Garden, becomes a way for a wealthy bourgeoisie or maybe nobility to project that kind of sense of labor and expression into a cultivated natural scape?

Grant Kester:  Yeah, that’s exactly right. I think it was Stowe, one of the landscape gardens, Stowe or Rousham. Before that was the Dutch style or the French style, which is very geometrical and rigid. It’s as though they get it from Versailles, that the sovereign ruler has to impose his will on nature and bend it to his needs. In England, they wanted it to look like nature naturally conformed to the desire to be possessed, which is very central to Kantian aesthetics, as well. So yes, it’s this idea, I suppose, of the bourgeoisie wanting to see its own worldview, that it’s uniquely equipped to master and tame and organize the natural world, and to extract resources from it, and creating almost like a virtual reality bubble that they can wander. They would have little perambulations around the gardens and so on. I actually link it to the development of early suburbs outside of London like Clapham Common because that landscaped garden as a kind of spatial container migrates into early suburban design in England and the Georgian era in the late 18th century. So yeah, for sure, and that’s so central to figures like Locke because they all want to make the argument that defining the self through the possession of nature is a kind of intrinsic condition of the human self as opposed to prior aristocratic models. This is the true nature of the self and it evolves naturally it is an artificially imposed, so that’s why it’s so important for them to the gardens still look like they’re just natural, even though there were massive amounts of human labor involved to create the gardens, to move Earth and create hills and lakes and stuff. It had to look like…

Scott Ferguson:  Not by the bourgeois themselves.

Grant Kester:  Exactly, yeah. They’d hire unemployed workers to pose as shepherds in hermitages. The whole thing was like a Disneyland of bourgeois perception. And so I think that interested me, and for me, that’s an aesthetic question, because it’s how do you organize the sensory world to confirm your own self image. For me, it ran all the way up to gated communities and so on. In the suburbs of Detroit when I was teaching at Cranbrook were these huge lawns and this isolation of the bourgeoisie from the broader world so that they can kind of indulge in a fantasy that they’re all self made, as opposed to dependent in a sense, yeah.

Billy Saas:  Reminded of an episode we had way back where we talked about the Franciscan monks who were so utterly opposed and disgusted by money that they would pay people to carry the money and sacks behind them, so they wouldn’t have to touch it. Just yeah, that the lengths people will go to, to preserve an image.

Grant Kester:  Yeah, that’s really interesting. Yeah, absolutely.

Scott Ferguson:  Much of your writing, as a professional academic, has been dedicated to and often controversially dedicated to exploring what is variously called socially engaged art, social practice art, a kind of dialogic aesthetic, I think you’ve called it. So I’m wondering if you could tell our listeners a little bit about — for those who are following along and have little sense of what this is, where it comes from, what it means what, what it’s related to what it’s not related to — what’s up with this socially engaged art scene that you’ve been caught up in and theorizing for a long time?

Grant Kester:  Okay, so this is an interesting question. That term “socially engaged art” emerges, I would say, in the 1980s. In conjunction with a body of work that was pretty marginal to the mainstream art world. Remember that during the 1980s the two big trends were Neo-Expressionist painting, which is kind of big, oil painted canvases by people like Julian Schnabel and Sandro Chia, and Francesco Clemente, and lots of oil paints being spread around. They looked a lot like expressionistic canvases from the 1920s, but 20 times as big. They were very much a throwback to earlier art practices. Then, there was this whole body of postmodern, appropriation based off and photo based work: Cindy Sherman, Sherry Levine and Richard Prince, figures like that. There was also, however, this adjacent body of work pretty localized in the US and Europe. But there were some people working that were building on activist art traditions that came out of the 60s and the 70s. Frankly, building on earlier precedents, that came together. There were multiple terms for it, people would say it’s activist art, socially engaged is just one of them. It’s an imperfect term. It’s problematic in many ways, because all artists, social. All are engaged with something or the other. But what differentiated this kind of work for me is that the engagement implied a reciprocal, in a way, responsibility to site or the audience that involved a kind of a feedback loop, if you will, in which the work wasn’t simply imposed onto a site. Think of Richard Serra’s famous Tilted Arc sculpture, which was a big controversy around that time. In a government plaza in New York City, a big corten steel sculpture put in the middle of the GSA (Government Services Administration) Plaza in Manhattan. And that is how conventional art would operate in a public space. You’d say, Okay, I’m going to come up with an idea in my studio, and I’m going to plop it down in the middle of a public space. Serra actually talks about that work as having a behavioral quality. I always found that interesting, because behavioralism is something we associate with well, in a way, like training animals and things like that. So there was the sense that the artist has that their job is to intervene in the public space, and to variously awaken or enlighten the public to alter their consciousness, which is, you know, all well and good. It’s what art does, but there was not a sense that Serra needed to actually consult with the people who would come into contact with the work ahead of time. He kind of knows. In a sense, the assumption is that the artist has already experienced an epiphany or an enlightenment of some kind, and that their job is to communicate that heightened sense of awareness to the viewer who was a priori assumed to have not achieved that level of insight. So if Tilted Arc represented one model for how the artist relates to the broader public outside of a museum or a gallery space, the works that I got interested in at the time tended to not carry forward the same presumption that artists didn’t have something to learn from the site. I guess that’s how I’d phrase it. Serra, and I don’t want to ventriloquize Serra, who just recently passed away, but I don’t think he would have seen his job as learning in detail about the site, at the complex micro political level. He would see the site and be aware of it as a kind of symbolic container in a Federal Plaza, with government workers and so on. But that would be about it. I was interested in practices that involve actually opening yourself up to the unexpected insights, that the artist might in some way learn from, be transformed by, the specific conditions of site, and public and space and community in ways that maybe would problematize all of those terms. That’s, for me, the engagement is an engagement that implies this reciprocal or dialogical, back and forth where the artist learns from, and is transformed by as well as exercising and effect on a particular site, or public. So that socially engaged concept gets carried forward into the 80s and the 90s. Again, along with lots of other terms, it gets confusing. I think the lack of a single terminology is probably fine. It’s a good thing, it suggests just how varied this practice is. The other thing that started to happen was these practices, which is what I’ve suggested, often tended to be collaborative, or collective, or participatory in some way. They often tended to be long in terms of duration, they might extend for quite a long period of time. They often involve the artist, and again, these are artists that are working outside the institutional art world, various forms of interaction with social movements, activist groups, and so on. So that term socially engaged, for me, has that particular resonance. What happened is that by the 80s, and the 90s, this kind of work was going on in lots of places, not just in the US or Europe. More and more networks of communication opened up in the 90s, and the early 2000s. A lot of these groups start to become aware of each other. It becomes more networked. Not coherent, necessarily, but a broader community of practitioners who are learning about each other’s work and so on. That is all proceeding, at the same time, the institutional art world occasionally will draw some of this work in for exhibitions, and biennials and so on. But generally, most of the work that I was looking at was not being produced with any direct connection to the institutional art world, or very little direct connection.

Scott Ferguson:  As a follow up, can you give us a preliminary counter example to the Serra’s work you mentioned? What is, for you, a quintessential exemplar of socially engaged practice?

Grant Kester:  Yeah, that’s a great question. And here’s an example. I mean, there’s lots of examples in that time period. But here’s one that I got to talk about in Conversation Pieces, which is my first book. That’s a project developed by a group called Wochenklausur, which is an Austrian collective whose name means “weeks of closure”. Their approach was to identify a site and over a period of several weeks to develop a project there, and they were invited to do a project in Zurich. They just they ended up wanting to do a project on the condition of sex workers in Zurich. Zurich had a very kind of whatever Calvinist, Puritanical attitude towards sex workers. They existed, there was a whole economy, but there was very little recognition or support. In many cases, they would struggle with housing issues and so on. Their goal was to try to get support from the city government to build basically a boarding house or “pensione” for sex workers in Zurich, which would have seemed impossible because of the political polarization among conservatives and so on in Zurich at that time, to even publicly admit that sex work is going on. And then to have the support or imprimatur of the government, and providing these people with a place to live, would seemed inconceivable. So they developed these “boat talks,” and they would take individual members of the different parties and government agencies and different stakeholders, activists, and so on, and they go out and Lake Zurich on this pleasure boat, and they didn’t record anything. They didn’t allow the media. And so a lot of people whose opinions about this question would have immediately in a more mediated space than politicized, like, I’m not allowed to say this because people will attack me, and so could communicate and reach a consensus to support this boarding house. Of course, this took weeks and it was accompanied by all sorts of complex machinations. But at the end of the day, they had that support, and they were able to actually get the boarding house built. Now, look, there’s all kinds of issues with a project of that nature that you can criticize. But what interested me more than just the other thing actually got done, which seems kind of miraculous. What interested me is the process of doing it, and that speaks to a very different relationship to site. They didn’t go into the site a priori, assuming here’s what needs to happen. They went into the site saying, Oh, this is a problem, that would be great if it could be resolved in some way. And instead of imposing a solution, they literally invited the people that were in the position to create a solution to talk. It’s such a simple and elegant thing. And of course, it won’t always work. We can’t always settle our differences by conversation. But it intrigued me and it was presented as an art practice. That raised questions for me about well, what is it about this that makes it an art practice? It was the antipode to Serra’s sovereign, if you will, consciousness, creating an image in the studio and putting it into the site, that’s all fine. That’s how most art is made. But I wasn’t really attracted to this other approach. And so I’d say Wochenklausur’s Boat Talks project is probably a good example.

Scott Ferguson:  To a lot of our listeners, they’re probably interested in what they’re hearing. They’re thinking, Oh, well, you know, there’s different kinds of ways of making art and, maybe, each their own. As we’ve said, you’ve been rather controversial, because the Serra practice is not just Serra. It is the dominant practice. There is a dominant going back centuries, as you show in your work, and as others have shown, a whole epistemology of art, a whole understanding of what art is, and what our isn’t, what the limits of art are, that are dedicated to this idea of autonomy, or this idea of sovereignty. That’s what you really take up in the first of your two volumes, and I’m wondering if you can tell us a little bit about how that came to be? Why is modern art so invested in sovereignty? And what are the limits and problems with that?

Grant Kester:  Yeah, so you know, I think the books came out of a gradual process because I’ve written Conversation Pieces and then I wrote The One and the Many which picks up on some of those questions. Throughout this, really going back to the 80s and before you know, I’ve lost track of how many times I would have these conversations where I might present the work and somebody saying: Why is this art? That’s not art, because X, Y, and Z. The work would be often criticized by critics associated with conventional approaches, as being un-aesthetic. That was very common “It’s not aesthetic” in some way. It often wasn’t just that this is an art, this isn’t “We don’t like it as art” it’s that it literally can’t be art. I felt that the practice was, I guess, in some ways, threatening some pretty deep ontological questions about what art is. It intrigued me because the projects I’ve looked at are all being produced by artists or not just artists, but artists working on people and being presented by them as art. I felt that it was important to learn and listen to what artists are saying they’re doing, and see if there’s something there that is being missed. Part of that led me to this question of rethinking the nature of the aesthetic, and this is where the two books come from. I couldn’t really come up with an aesthetic analysis of engaged art without settling accounts with the conventional aesthetic paradigm. That’s the one that supports the notion of the Artist as a kind of a sovereign intelligence. Yes, the first part of the book goes back and tries to trace the history of the aesthetic and sovereignty to figure out where that comes from. For me, it was important, a sovereignty, autonomy, because I felt that the aesthetic was often being collapsed into notions of autonomy, or sovereignty, unproblematically. That there was something in the history of the aesthetic that was being lost in that. Oh, it’s just a matter of the artist has to be absolutely free. Their consciousness is a model for the rest of us to follow. I felt there was something important about the aesthetic that was being lost, that had to do with the aesthetic from its original meaning, right. It’s “aisthesis” in Greek, which means sense-based knowledge. Something about the way the knowledge we get through our senses is legitimate, that our sensory experience of the world generates important insight. Of course, in certain versions of the aesthetic, the knowledge of the body is subordinated to the mind, or the intelligence, or sentiment, and emotion, subordinated to reason. That kind of gets baked into certain accounts of the aesthetic, almost unselfconsciously. So I felt like there was something lost in collapsing the aesthetic into notions of autonomy, about the status of somatic or bodily experience. The other thing that interested me about the aesthetic was that the aesthetic and its earliest versions has to do with how consciousness is transformed. The critique of judgment is all about how people learn to experience their selfhood differently. It’s about the relationship between transformations and individual consciousness or self awareness, and broader trends, social, maybe even political transformation. How does having my consciousness transformed relate to broader social and political change, is what I drew out in that. That whole complex set of issues was getting lost. Instead, you so often find this kind of routine invocation of autonomy and sovereignty. You can’t make art that goes outside the art world because it will be collapsed into or appropriated by these impure forces. There’s a whole kind of problematic binary opposition that I wanted to try to work through a little bit and break down some of these things like mind over body, or pure and impure or artworld and impure social and political world and so on.

Billy Saas:  Would ‘individual’ and ‘collective’ be another one of those kinds of divisions that could play into that?

Grant Kester:  Absolutely. That’s why I write about the “washing the flag” or Lava la Bandera performances in Peru in 2000, which were a series of, of actions that were developed by a collective, the CSC or Civil Society Collective, composed of artists and activists and it developed a performance based practice at the moment that Alberto Fujimori was attempting to stay in power by limiting the freedom of the press and stage a kind of…He was already in power, but kind of keep himself in power and elections were kind of soft coup or something along those lines, right? By repressing the election process. This group came together and they started these actions, as a collective, of washing the Peruvian flag in the main plaza outside of the government buildings in Lima. And it fascinated me because it was such an innocuous gesture like they’re just washing…It was just a few of them at first, just a few individuals washing the flag. Okay, who cares? But the government realized that it was dangerous. They weren’t throwing rocks or anything. They were just washing the flag and hanging it up to dry. Like performance art, it looked like something from the 70s. Right, like performance art. But the government reacted really strongly and saw that symbolic gesture as a threat. What happened was, it started to spread. It became collective. It went from a handful of people washing some flags. Well that wouldn’t really pose much of a threat. But all of a sudden, you had 500 or 1000 people in this plaza every weekend. Then you started to see people doing the same gesture in towns and villages across Peru. The effect of that wasn’t simply Oh, well, then that led to the ouster of Fujimori. But it gave people a sense of the strength of solidarity in Peru at the time against Fujimori, because there was a sense of hopelessness. Like he’s going to do it again, he’s going to stay in power, and there’s no hope, there aren’t enough of us. All of a sudden, the viral contagion of that gesture made people feel a sense of agency that they have not felt before or encouraged them to do so. So yes, that’s the key connection to me because conventional art is all about transforming consciousness. Richard Serra’s Tilted Arc was supposed to make the government workers see this huge barrier, and say, Ah, the barriers a symbol or metaphor for the constraint of government bureaucracies. And I see I’m an apparatchik that’s employed by this entire oppressive system, I get it. Right. So conventional art is all about transformation of consciousness, but it always has to be limited to the individual. There’s never an understanding of how that might expand or become scalable. Things like Lava la Bandera and the Escrache in Argentina that I talked about, and Saba Zavarei’s work in Iran, of singing in public, all of these gain their power by their proliferation, as opposed to their constraint and limitation to the individual. That goes back to this idea of the aesthetic which is in Kant the sensus communis, common sense, in the aesthetic is what happens when we as individuals intuit our connection to a larger social whole. But it can only unfold in the individual consciousness. That idea, that linkage, actualized was really interesting to me in these practices. So yeah, Billy, absolutely. From individual to collective. That’s the key movement, I think.

Scott Ferguson:  To develop that a little bit more, you know, one of the things I really appreciate about the genealogy or the genealogies that you lay out of both autonomous art and socially engaged art and thinking about them, is that you’re often de-familiarizing really well known histories and well known figures and bringing out the limits of them, and in doing so, you’re not just critiquing them, you’re also drawing out tension. Forgive me for using such hamfisted terms, but a villain in your first book can turn out to actually have seeds of heroism in your second book. Friedrich Schiller is the beginning of a problem in book one, but in book two, the play drive has this possibility that can outstrip Schiller, and I’m wondering, maybe you can talk a little bit about Schiller, you have also a very complicated relationship to Marx’s significance in this history. Also Leninism and the historical avant-garde. Just get into some of these details that I find absolutely fascinating.

Grant Kester:  Of course. Yeah, I like your point about the complexity of it. I think there’s a tendency, I don’t know how widespread but I have encountered it, to a certain notion of, you’ve encountered this a lot in art criticism, of purity. That is a particular theory and particular practice is either completely, irredeemably corrupt and co-opted, or it can’t be questioned. And I think there’s almost like a theological underpinning to a lot of that in art criticism where we get identified with these positions. You see it in the debates over ethics versus aesthetics and so on and in art criticism going back 10 or 15 years. You see a version of this in, I suppose, certain forms of left political theory, which is that, and I talk about this in the second book, that the only legitimate form of political change is something that effectively reproduces the convulsive overturnings of the Russian Revolution in 1917. If it doesn’t seem like a revolution that completely clears away everything that came before and rebuilt from scratch, anything that is partial or incremental, fails. Which has always struck me as problematic. For one thing, it’s not as though the Bolshevik Revolution was reinvented. Autocracy continued on in Russia quite nicely with a different set of names attached to it than Czarist names. So there is never an absolute overturning like that. It doesn’t exist in human history. I always felt that, in the same way with particular theorists, that there’s almost always with human complexity, and there are resources that are for me, for what I’m interested in doing that are productive and generative, and others that aren’t. Schiller is a good example of that. Schiller’s analysis of the kind of early modernity and the soul destroying effect of modern life. And this is a guy that’s writing in pre-unification Germany. It’s a bunch of duchies and principalities, one of the more backwards parts of Europe, in a way, in terms of what modernity looks like. Yeah, England was different, but Germany, not so much. Yet, he could see how damaging to the human self, certain forms of modernization were. The instrumentalization of other people in the natural world, and so on. So there’s a lot of important stuff. I’ve got on my wall cover of AIZ, workers illustrated newspaper. And that’s this Life magazine for German workers, basically, from the 20s and early 30s. John Heartfield, the photo montage artist, did their covers. And I’ve got a cover that he did that’s basically an Nazi propaganda minister on the occasion of Schiller’s 175th birthday and he’s saying, “who is this guy, I don’t believe anything he says. I’d arrest him if he was alive today.” The Nazis really didn’t like Schiller, because he critiqued modernization, and he critiqued it from a kind of spiritual perspective that it was soul destroying. He said, You need to rise up against authoritarianism. There’s always these mixed…it’s like the Enlightenment in relation to colonial expansion that I talk about in the second book. There’s robust anti imperialist discourse in the enlightenment of all places. So anyway, that’s just a way to say, I think the way I think tends to avoid too many of these binary oppositions of pure and impure and so on. It doesn’t mean you don’t circle back around and say, yeah, there’s problems with Schiller, and so on. But it’s important to think, well, in a more dialogical manner, right? There’s a back and forth that goes on, and you extract those elements that are productive, and then don’t worry about the others. So these ideas also come up in the way that I understand the Marxist tradition. Here I want to focus briefly on the Leninist tradition. In many ways, there’s a tension in modern political history and the Marxist tradition. There’s a tension between revolutionary change, and what I talked about in the book as prefigurative forms of experience of various kinds. Revolutions have always, in the Marxist tradition, in pursuit of a society that would be defined by Liberty, Fraternity and Equality. 1789 in the French Revolution, those are the watchwords. Of course, the Marxist critique of 1789 is that it’s a bourgeois revolution. The promise of liberty, freedom, and equality was never realized fully for everyone, including colonial subjects, including women, including the working class never got there. Every revolution failed in some sense, until we got to 1917. We ended that cycle in the French tradition with the Paris Commune. The Paris Commune is an extremely complicated moment in French history and is a failure yet again. Lenin famously celebrates when the Bolshevik Revolution survives longer than the Paris Commune did before it was destroyed. He does a little dance and so on, like, Yes, we did it where he finally had the right kind of revolution. What he learned, what he takes away from the commune is you cannot prematurely de-sublimate utopian values. What does that mean? It means you look at the commune, you look at Courbet’s work in the commune. There’s all sorts of reinvention of what life could be in a commune: the police force is done away with and schools are open and free and galleries, the Louvre is open to the public. We eliminate a lot of the bureaucratic positions and so on. There’s this euphoric kind of moment. It’s kind of like Russia after the Bolshevik Revolution, the Civil War. You find this euphoria of potential. Wow, we had a revolution. Now we get to actually have liberty, equality and fraternity and freedom, real freedom for everyone. That’s a really poignant moment. And so Lenin looks at the commune and says the reason the commune failed is because they celebrated too soon. What they needed to do was be hard-nosed revolutionaries. It shows that we can’t rely on the working class, to have the hard-nosed, disciplined mentality of a bourgeois intellectual, which is what the party is right? He talks about Karl Kautsky, the German Marxist’s famous remark about Communism having to be brought to the masses from outside from bourgeois intellectuals, or alienated bourgeois intellectuals. Lenin’s lesson is that revolution has to be an utterly hard nosed unyieldingly hierarchical process. And yes, the dictatorship of the proletariat, there is no appeal to justice. If the party says you are an enemy, you go to jail or you’re executed. It’s like the elements of the terror all over again. So I was interested in that image of what revolution can be that gets carried forward. Of course, a version of it that migrates into the avant-garde is the idea that art’s role is to attack and assault the viewer. That becomes a symbolic and displaced expression of the role of violent political revolution at the cognitive level, in a sense. But there were other voices in the Bolshevik party, including Alexander Bogdanov, who was an early founder of the Bolsheviks, right, and Bogdanov says, No, the idea that the party should have absolute and unyielding control, and we have to impose this hierarchical discipline on society and set up the Cheka and police state and all the rest, which begins to happen under Lenin, the Cheka is created under Lenin’s watch, says no, if your revolution looks like that, then it’s likely going to reproduce that same level of authoritarianism after it’s over, whenever that comes. So my feeling from just my own reading of history is that revolutions that are predicated on such a complete disavowal of the prefigurative emancipatory and utopian elements of human sociality, are unlikely to end up producing anything more than more inequality and injustice. That puts me athwart of a strong Marxist tradition, which I still find figures like Zizek wanting there to be another Leninist revolution or Badiou who’s like a big fan of the Chinese Cultural Revolution because it got all the nasty bourgeois Chinese people out of the way or, I mean Badiou was celebrating the Khmer Rouge for crying out loud until like a decade ago, still. That is not my experience and understanding of the history of communist revolution. That led to my interest and practices of political social change that incorporate within themselves these prefigurative elements. New social architectures, new forms of being together, new forms of decision making. Now, of course, there has to be a tactical dimension to any change. But that tactical dimension, the instrumental element of change, like we have to do this and produce that effect and attack this agency of government or whatever has to, for me exists in it in a relationship with these other elements, or you end up reproducing the very thing you thought you were fighting against. I know that for many that’s liberal humanist claptrap, and not sufficiently and all the rest. But, it’s just based on my reading of history, in my experience on this planet, that that’s more likely to produce a decent kind of life after the revolution occurs. Frankly, what does revolution even look like? I think of the United States today, where we’ve got these really insane Christian Nationalist ideas being promulgated, at all levels of society. Dramatic restrictions on abortion, and attacks on immigration and so on, that represent the belief systems of a fairly small part of the public. Really, I mean it’s scary how many people believe these things, but still, it’s maybe 30%. The only reason the Supreme Court has six ideologues bought and purchased ideologues on it, is because the Federalist Society has been working for 30 years to do that, like right wing, Neo fascist groups, white supremacists have been working for decades to infiltrate school boards, and they have a very mobilized base. So you have these belief systems, which the vast majority of the American public disagree with, that are being imposed on us. And that’s what a revolution would look like, wow. If Trump gets reelected, that will look like a revolution. But how did it happen? It took three decades, you know, you can go back and look at the history of neoconservatism and Aryan Nations and KKK and trace that genealogy, it was a slow patient work. And on the left, there’s often not a recognition of how important that kind of work is. Can you imagine a parallel version of that, that was actually devoted to progressive, enlightened ideas about how society should operate that had been going on for 30 years, that was supported by, you know, 75% of the American people. But we don’t have that so much. So anyway, that’s all a long winded way of saying that, for me, that prefigurative and the tactical element of the political need to be conjoined. To take it back to engaged art, that’s what I see happening on an experiential level and along with the practices that I write about, it’s just one space. It’s not like the only place this work has been done. I’ve talked about that Black Lives Matter and the Cleveland Convening in the book, because it’s such a great example of this. That wasn’t an engaged art project project. But what occurred is the Cleveland Convening, when they they blocked the arrest of a young Black man, was fascinating, because it was a moment at which there were all of these schisms within the group, the Black Lives Matter group, in the convention center, that were threatening to drive them apart into camps and so on. And they instantly reconnected into a collective that could peacefully prevent the arrest of this young man. So it’s, it’s a passage from one of the books that I described. Anyway, this kind of work is happening in lots of places. It’s obviously not just in the arts or engaged art. I think it’s part of a broader shift in how we are conceptualizing social and political change.

Billy Saas:  I suppose I have the cynical and the optimistic path to pursue. But let’s end with the optimistic and tarry in the cynical for a moment. It seems to me a lot of–even left progressive circles–a lot of this investment in autonomy, and the aesthetic and modern art is about generating and preserving value. It’s about ownership. It’s about persona, it’s about cults of personality, and ultimately a need to have a job and to make a buck. Right. I think that that would be kind of a self defense, I could anticipate coming from somebody who is espousing the views that you’re critical of, and why they might be defensive. Well, at the end, I have a house of kids, I got it, I gotta do this, right. This is the paradigm we’re in. How do we get over that or through that, or do you have some examples or models that you think we can look to or point to share with our comrades and colleagues and say, No. Another way lies this misdirection?

Grant Kester:  Well, let me say a couple of things. One, there’s this tension between a kind of spontaneous all encompassing revolution and gradual. I don’t want to overstate that. But I would say that even in the case of Russia, Lenin didn’t expect the Russian Revolution. He famously said I’d be happy for a bourgeois revolution. We’re like the most backwards in terms of this Hegelian version of capitalism that he would have believed in, was in an unlikely place to have it. So we’re often being surprised even by people that we imagined to have a privileged access to the truth. So things can happen. Entirely possible that it happens all the time, frankly. Rosa Parks sits down in a bus, and certain events, performances happen that trigger not maybe revolutionary change, but pretty big and important change. But I also would say that the precondition for those events like the Russian Revolution, or the civil rights movement was decades of work that is more subterranean. So the subterranean work, the thankless daily work that people do to foment social changes. That’s the ground on which any of those, as Badiou would say, evental changes occurs? They don’t come from the consciousness of the individual theorist or Vanguard leader, they come from human Praxis in a myriad of ways. Yes, people have to survive. I mean, I teach art history for a living. We’re all flawed and imperfect revolutionaries, for sure. But there is, I suppose, at the end of the day, and look, Billy, I’m completely with you. I can be completely cynical about all of this, because you just look at it…Yeah, and so what? Things are actually getting worse. Doesn’t matter how many art collectors do how many things that’s not really moving the needle in any significant way. That’s all true. It’s not hard at all to kind of be a little despondent about that. But I also look around at a world that’s changed dramatically in the last five or 10 years, that’s changed because a whole crap ton of really mean evil people have been working to make it change for a long time. They didn’t give up. Right? They didn’t get despondent. This goes back to Goldwater and before right. It goes back to Father Coughlin in the 1930s. They didn’t give up. So there is a need, I suppose for what Gramsci says, “Pessimism of the intellect, optimism of the will.” That is, you’re right, and I can completely see…I myself feel like things are hopeless, and why am I writing about these little projects that didn’t really do as much as they might have done, but there also has to be, for me at least, a capacity for hope. I think you mentioned the art world. Part of what drew me to this question of autonomy is this odd disconnect in left circles around what art can be and in some ways, it really unreconstructed notion of avant-garde autonomy. There’s a history of this kind of lack of a kind of awareness of how artistic practice has begun to change. Goes back to like Clement Greenberg writing for partisan review, setting the mold for a kind of a formalist notion of art in the midst of revolution. He famously says in “Avant-Garde and Kitsch”, this essay he wrote in 1939 I want to say, that the only hope to preserve revolutionary consciousness lies in these isolated avant-garde experiments that artists are doing in the privacy of their studios.

Scott Ferguson:  Paid for by the bourgeoisie. He says it explicitly, yeah. And Kitsch is when the bourgeoisie stops paying for the autonomist artists.

Grant Kester:  Exactly, he calls it the umbilical cord of gold.

Scott Ferguson:  He does, yes, he did.

Grant Kester:  I wrote for The Nation back in the 90s. I used to write reviews for them, and I can remember that their art critic was Arthur Danto. God bless Arthur Danto. He’s a great philosopher, but the last thing you’d find him writing about would have been activist art practices. There’s an insecurity on the left, that they’ll appear as Zhadnovites or something. They’ll appear like they’re supporters of the most vulgar forms of Stalinist social realism if they don’t go out of their way to embrace so called advanced avant-garde art. It all went to Verso Press as it is sometimes because they have this relationship to October, the journal October. There’s been a failure, from my perspective on left associated cultural platforms, to really come to terms with how art has changed in the last 20 years. Now, if you look at theorists, you’ll look at Rodrigo Nunes “Neither Vertical Nor Horizontal” or Asad Haider or Hamed Hosseini figures like that. You find political theorists going yay, yeah, we need to combine the vertical and the horizontal as Nunes calls it. But the art side, the people that see themselves as invested in art criticism and so on, still remains quite hidebound in my perspective in terms of the kinds of art that are recognized and accepted and constructs quite astoundingly odd arguments to me. There’s a guy Nicholas Brown who wrote a book Autonomy: The Social Ontology of Art under Capitalism. A lot of this is neo-Adornoian, that is Adorno, Theodor Adorno, Frankfurt School critic, famously, very critical, like Greenberg of mass culture, or popular culture, and very supportive of art as having to be opaque, hard to understand, isolated, can’t find an audience because everybody is too benumbed by consumer culture to even be aware enough to understand it, but that’s okay. It’s like a message in a bottle to a future generation that might wake up enough to actually have a revolution. All of these arguments get carried forward and in his book, Brown develops this whole argument about how any art that relates itself in any way to political change immediately becomes what he calls a consumable sign of opposition. Rancière, Jacques Rancière, says something like this. He says once art collapses into political mobilization, it disappears. So the very figures you think you would turn to on the left to write intelligently about art often feel invested in this very conservative model of what art can be. Now, Brown, to his credit, writes about popular culture, but the argument he makes comes out of Frederic Jameson and Adorno, which is that art preserves its radicality, not by getting on the art world and engaging with actual political and social change, but remaining in. It only has meaning in the institutional art world, and its meaning that it only occurs as it pushes off against or critiques certain generic rules and norms and compositional norms, and so on, specific to art media, which is kind of a Greenberg argument. It can’t overtly address the political. As soon as it does that, it’s lost. It disappeared as art. In Brown’s book, he actually makes this argument that based on that argument, that art becomes political by critiquing certain ideas and compositional structures that are unique to particular art media, like painting, or film, or television. He makes this whole argument that progressive political cultural production is associated with the original version of The Office, as opposed to the US version. He has this whole argument about how the original version, the UK version of The Office, was real, critical, because it engaged and subverted the generic conventions of comedy, in a way that the US version did not. Or The Terminator was authentically in a way avant-garde work that carried forward really kind of a prototypical revolutionary awareness, whereas Avatar was not because it did not destabilize the generic conventions of film in the way that The Terminator did. People end up tying themselves in knots to make the argument that this work is political in a meaningful way, and that’s okay, I don’t object to that. Look, I would say maybe you need to work a little harder to come up with the argument because it doesn’t, for me, seem very convincing. But I appreciate that that’s what most art criticism wants to do. The part that bothers me is the parallel argument therefore any artists that don’t work that way, that operate outside the institutional art world, or reduce political resistance to “I’m going to challenge the norms of filmmaking in some formalist manner” have stopped making art. That is not true for me. I think that they are making a different kind of art. It saddens me that it’s so hard to find critics and theorists associated with this arguably on the left side of the spectrum, if you will, that don’t want to accept that. So I do. I guess I’ll say that’s where I come down and say, Yes, it is art, but it’s a kind of an art that requires you to rethink your definition of art and to rethink your definition of autonomy, because autonomy is the basis for a lot of these arguments in Rancière and Nicholas Brown and Walter Benn Michaels and a number of these critics.

Billy Saas:  It seems like one way to put it would be like overtly political art obviates the need for the critic. And so the critics are somehow invested in and preserving their aura and prestige of interpretation from the inimitable genius.

Grant Kester:  One, Adorno literally will say this in aesthetic theory, that is he’s not really convinced there is anybody that looks at Beckett plays or Schoenberg compositions and really grasps them. The only person that does is the critic, and that’s okay. He talks about the artist as a deputy, working on behalf of the kind of revolutionary consciousness the working class should exhibit but does not yet. It’s like Lukacs talks about the “imputed consciousness” of the word proletariat in history, class consciousness, it’s what the working class…the whole argument of Marxism is that they will spontaneously evolve class consciousness through the oppression of the capitalist system and industrialization. But they failed to do so. So somebody else must have to experience it for them. And that somebody else is the Vanguard theorist, it’s going to be the artists for Adorno, and so on. They become a kind of a repository, or a talisman, or something, a vessel, that carries revolutionary consciousness forward in a non-revolutionary period. All of those vessels are basically ending up as commodified elements within bourgeois cultural productions in galleries and museums, and Beckett retrospectives and everything else. For me, it’s like, I get the argument, I just don’t find it very compelling. I do think that the work that is going on, that engages with the political and social, doesn’t, and this is typical, like, “well, this is what Rancière says.” “Well, it’s nothing new. It’s just protest banners and things like that. It’s just making political demands in a very social realist manner.” Part of why I spend so much time in my book talking in detail about things like the “escrache” tradition in Argentina, or Lava la Bandera, or Saba Zavarei and various public performances in Iran, is precisely to challenge this idea that all political art or activist art is crude and simplistic, and relies on crude versions of representation. Like its worker posters from the 1930s. It’s just not true. This work for me is incredibly complex in terms of how it relates to representation, in terms of how it understands the subject position of the artist, and in terms of how it relates, challenges, stands in some relationship of tension with political transformation. It’s a very complicated body of work, if you look at it, and you’re willing to see it. I guess, that’s kind of been my commitment to try to see what’s actually going on in the practice. Then, to bring what I see back through the traditions of the aesthetic and just say, Okay, you want to say this other work is aesthetic, that’s fine. I get that, I can see why. This work also draws on that tradition, but it draws a different set of lessons. That’s all. It’s just a different set of lessons.

Scott Ferguson:  Can you tell us a little bit more about the Escrache experiments? Maybe in a little bit more detail, and maybe work through some of their complexities. And also, I want to say, you know, let’s not knock work or posters in the 30s. You know, they’re probably pretty cool and interesting, too.

Grant Kester:  I would not disagree with that. Yeah, I was reaching. I didn’t want to talk about Zhdanov and Soviet policy. So I was trying to think of something that would be…but yes, absolutely. Socialist Realism can actually be quite interesting, some of it’s quite interesting and complex.

Scott Ferguson:  Yeah, some people argue that Socialist Realism is one breed of modernism.

Grant Kester:  Indeed, there is indeed that argument and I wouldn’t disagree. I have a particular interest in the history of woodcuts, and I’ve been researching woodcuts in the May 4th Movement in China. We usually think of woodcuts is, again, one of these crude folk forms, but they can be in the same manner…One of my interests going forward is to write on realism, because there is such a truncated version of what realism means that comes out of the work that you see going on in the 20s and 30s. It’s far more complex than a lot of traditional histories allow. So yeah, I completely agree with that. The Escraches emerge in around 2000 or so, maybe a little bit earlier, in Argentina, and escrache means to scratch or reveal something. It has the implication of revealing something hidden. So they built out of HIJOS (the sons and daughters of the disappeared), which is a collective of, a lot of it was the mothers of young people who were murdered or imprisoned by the military junta that ruled Argentina that took power in the 1970s. You’re probably familiar with and listeners will be familiar with that kind of awful history of 1000s of people. They’d been taken to these isolated camps and tortured and drugged and then dropped into the Rio de la Plata River, from helicopters and all the rest. After the military leadership of the country lost power, after the Falklands War, this whole history kind of disappeared in Argentinian public life. Early on, there were some laws. Oh, you can’t get a job in the government, again, if you are part of the military regime, and so on, but eventually those kinds of things get suspended. There was never a public accounting for the fact that there were hundreds, if not 1000s, of people walking freely around Argentina who’d been responsible for killing your son, or your cousin, or your brother, or your parents. So there’s a generation of young Argentinians that came of age in the late 90s, early 2000s, that came out of this historical amnesia. HIJOS, this collective of survivors, had begun to do legal research, and so on, to try to identify who some of these people were, that were walking around with complete impunity, because they were, of course, not going to announce their role. But yet they would have lives and get jobs in the government and so on and so forth. They worked with some art collectives; Grupo Etcetera, which is one of them, kind of a performance based collective of artists; Grupo de Arte Callejero, which is the group of street artists, to develop these performances now. Performances would be staged outside their homes once they identified, oh, this is the guy that ran the secret camp at the naval facility outside Buenos Aires. He ran the secret detention center, where they raped women and then gave the babies to members of the Junta and then killed the mothers. He was that guy that ran that center. HIJOS would originally protest outside the houses, but that wasn’t as effective as they wanted it to be. Police would come and so on. They started much more elaborate performances, where this collective would go to the neighborhood where they were going to do an intervention months ahead of time, and they would talk to the people. They’d set up a center and they’d research the history of the neighborhood and let people know oh, by the way, the person that lives in this apartment building right over here is– this is who it is because you didn’t know. They call it the pre-escrache. It’s a research phase. It is an organizational phase. Then the escrache itself was a public performance. They would have what they call Murga bands, which are bands with trombones and drums and accordions or violins that have a particular tradition in Argentina. They’d marched through the street to the home. They would do these performances where they act out the crimes of the person that they’re targeting. But in a very kind of Commedia dell’arte manner. They were very over the top hyperbolic, almost silly. Google them on YouTube, and you’ll find them there. They’re almost meant to be humorous in the way and absurd and over the top. They do the performances, and the police would come and try to prevent them from getting near the house. Because the penultimate gesture was to then throw balloons with red paint that signified the blood of the people they’ve murdered onto the walls to mark the home. So the performances evolved in part to distract the police so that the people with the balloons could have a clear line of fire. There was a tactical dimension to the performances, but it also had the effect of teaching the people in the neighborhood, restaging the crimes because people didn’t always know what the person had done. These would be recorded. So they’d throw the bones at the end of the performance, and then the home would be marked for a significant amount of time, at least, from this blood red paint. These still go on today, the whole escrache tradition, again, has expanded and gone into other realms, You find it taken up in other parts of Latin America, as well. What interested me, there’s a lot of things to be said about the complexity of that work. Oh, I should mention the Grupo de Arte Callejero (GAC) would also put signs up as part of the pre-escrache that look like actual road signs in the vicinity of the home, but they would say things like 200 meters to the home of a genocidal torturer or something like that. So you’d be driving down the street, and it looks like an actual sign. So the whole streetscape would be restaged in a sense to facilitate this performance. But what interested me is that nine times out of 10, from what I can understand from talking to people involved with them, the person was not home when they were staging their performance. It really wasn’t this cathartic assault, they would know because they’d be aware that people were meeting and there was talk going on. They wouldn’t even be home, but they didn’t need to be home because that person was…Yeah, it would have been gratifying to yell and spit in their face or whatever you killed my relative. But what mattered more, I think, was the sense of solidarity and agency that was provided by the people that were involved in the action itself, and the viral proliferation of the recordings. It’s not simply a matter of political art reduced to screaming at somebody to believe something different. And this goes back to the prefigurative, that there was a solidarity enhancement, a pedagogical dimension to this work that had to do with expanding the awareness of the Argentinian public of the nature of these crimes. In fact, eventually, the result was a shift of laws in Argentina that cracked down on the impurity of the elements of people that were associated with the junta. So I thought that reception of the work was really interesting, because for me, and again, it kind of collapses some of these ideas that activists and political art is always this kind of crude, simplistic gesture. That representational repertoire of their performances called on all kinds of theatrical traditions in the kinds of ways that the modes of address were quite complicated. Same thing in the Lava la Bandera. So those are both examples of work that is political and engaged in political and social change, but cannot be reduced to a kind of crude caricature, at least for me. Yeah.

Scott Ferguson:  Yeah, that’s wonderful to hear about, and especially once you start talking about the rich details of the construction, the preparation, the playing out of these events, to speak back to the cynical concerns, the Ah well, but what does it amount to? I guess when I hear about these kinds of movements, I think to myself, Wow, this is incredibly meaningful, and it’s even more meaningful that there were legal results, but I would say that it’s the actions, the activities, the aesthetic experiences themselves are already meaningful. It’s wonderful that those meanings are paying dividends, so to speak, and creating more change. But even if it hadn’t, it still seems like it already created change. If anything, I would say in response to criticisms that this is not enough. It’s not because they’re not autonomous enough, it’s because there aren’t enough of these experiments going on constantly all the time. It’s not, Oh, we should have less because they’re not overturning right wing forces around the world completely. Let’s have more, and the more we have, the better luck we’re gonna have to overturn right wing forces around the world completely.

Grant Kester:  I agree, it kind of seems common sense to me. Guess what, the Fourth International does not exist right now. There is no global, networked, oppositional movement that is poised to take control. How do you get to the point of having more power to change things? It only begins this way locally, and situationally, and to dismiss it all as Oh, it’s just reformist. And all that’s doing is validating the existing system of domination because they can point to these singular gestures and say, See how tolerant we are. I mean, yeah, that’s true, and that can be disabling. Also, I don’t know how else you get to broader forms of systemic change, except through the hard work, the piecemeal work of operating at this level. That’s why in the book I talk about broader projects like Lava la Bandera that contributed to Fujimori’s overthrow or Laurie Jo Reynolds Tamms Year Ten project that led to the closing of a supermax prison in Illinois, but also very localized work like Saba Zavarei’s work. She’s an Iranian artist that left Iran after the Green Revolution, and had come back for a visit and was in quite a well known mosque in Isfahan. She recorded herself singing a love song to Iran, which again, is like, okay, but actually you’re not allowed to do that. It’s not against the law, but it’s against the guidelines of what women can do in public. She posted it on our website, it just says I was moved by this beautiful space, and I sang. She got, like, 1000s of women responding to her, and then doing it themselves, and posting their own public scene performances. There’s this whole body of public dancing, which if your Hijab is not adjusted properly, you can end up dead as we saw not so long ago in Iran. Because of the Basij and the policing of the streets by the morality police and so on. That work was just her in this mosque, her consciousness transformed. But again, it became scalar. And now it was 100 women and 1000 women. I’m not saying Oh, and because of that the protest movements in Iran developed later. But that is one piece of the precondition for broader changes. I talk about the offering of mind in a project in Myanmar, that was done in 2005 in The One and the Many, Chu Yuan. The military regime in Myanmar had driven any Western groups out of the country, the Red Cross, and so on. There are very few artists working there. Chu Yuan and her partner Jay Koh from Singapore. So they were kind of tolerated. She did a project based on this Theravadic Buddhist tradition. And in Theravada Buddhism, you make prayers and give contributions at a temple for the temples that have more gold leaf put on it or what have you. By doing that you buy yourself good will for your next incarnation. You make sacrifices now so that when you’re reborn, you’ll be at a higher level. It’s an argument that’s made in Myanmar society that the political leadership and so on is there because they were so good in their previous lives, they deserve that authority. Chu Yuan came up with this idea where she had young people, just people she knew in Myanmar, come up with their own wishes for what they wanted to change about Myanmar society. Created with them, these little chicken wire stupa head pieces, and they put their wishes on scrolls, because they’d write them on scrolls and the headpiece acting out, again, at a very limited individual level. She did this with a fairly small number of people. She took pictures of them, and she documented them. One was on the cover of that book. They had to be extremely careful just walking down the streets of Rangoon like this, because that could attract attention. That’s why they’re all photographed from behind, so you can’t see their faces, because they could have gotten arrested. Because the assumption is their wishes might have been things like Gosh, I wish our country wasn’t run by a military dictatorship or something along those lines, we don’t know. So again, very small changes in consciousness. I want to argue, I make this argument in the book, that there is a capillarity relationship between those incremental and small. This goes back to the aesthetic. Individual consciousness transformed, how does that become scalable? How does that proliferate and extend and build? And yes, it can feel hopeless. But again, like you’ve all said, I don’t know how else we get to the broader forms of resistance except through this hard work.

Billy Saas:  I guess there’s a pretty clear analogy between, I think, what we’re up to, and why we’re interested in talking to you at Money on the Left. It’s as much for us I think about a project of recovery and discovery of these incremental, sometimes spontaneous practices and experiments over time and across the world, in public provisioning for the public good. There’s also a critique of sovereignty at the center of, I think, what we’re up to. So I guess one last question for me, for you, is if you have any sense about how best to go about the curation or collection, or dare I say, organization, the process of bringing all these things together without finding oneself again, and kind of like that critical priesthood position. It’s like, this is how I see the lay of the land, and here’s the project. This is what it is. And now we’re moving forward with this. And without my particular genius, and assembling these recovered pieces, you wouldn’t be able to see it, so you gotta buy my book. Right? Yeah. How do we do it carefully, respectfully, and in a way, or is it even important to do it?

Grant Kester:  I had looked a little bit and I’m not obviously knowledgeable about economics, but I looked a little bit into modern monetary theory. It looks like, and I’d want to learn from both of you, maybe somewhat connected to David Graeber’s work on debt and so on. So I was like, Oh, what are the commonalities here? I thought, oh, yeah, because Graeber is trying to challenge the notion that the a priori condition of the human self is this possessing an individualistic drive, that then gets normalized in economics in so many different ways, including austerity discourse. Like we’re bad people, and we have to sacrifice, economically, which is kind of antithetical to the reality of the way capitalism has worked in the 20th century and the 21st century. I mean, the thing that led the United States out of the depression was military industrial spending by the government, and debt. So the weird moralizing around debt. It’s become so transparent recently, within the Republican Party, I think how completely and utterly indifferent they are to actual debt. It was always just an excuse. It’s never intended as anything other than a bludgeon to justify dismantling 100 years of social policy and provision that had been hard won going back to the 1880s, 1890s. Honestly, I don’t know how it was not ever obvious to anybody all along, that that was the game, but for sure it is now. So I think, to the extent to which that leaks in with the tendency broadly to normalize, I don’t know what to call them. Bourgeois notions of the self, I see where it comes into my work, I guess one way would be: one, in looking at projects that appeal to this different version of the self. It’s what I call the dialogical model of the self in the second book. It’s more open, permeable, less committed to I’m a self that must master and dominate and instrumentalize. Not the Odyssean self that Adorno and Horkheimer critique in Dialectic of Enlightenment, but a self that actually is open to the shape and influence of the other. That that is important work at the level of the subjectivity of the individual person, and that that’s what’s being worked out, rehearsed, performed in various ways in a lot of these practices. And that there is a tendency for me and I’d be interested to hear what both of you have to say about this, but there has been a tendency to normalize that version of the self on the left as well. This is my criticism of Leninism, which is Gorky’s famous quote about Lenin, he’s like a cold blooded aristocrat. He’s a product of his class background. The proletariat are the “iron ore” that he’s going to hammer into the ideal form. I mean, that is to me so self-evidently an extension of this possessive…Yes, of course it’s on behalf of world revolution, I get all that. But there’s an utter lack of self reflection on how problematic it is to carry that forward sometimes. My sense is that that’s one of the places where there’s a productive alliance or overlap with what you guys are up to as well with this modern monetary theory. I was gonna ask you, How do you understand the relationship between Oh, it’s economic theory, what does that have to do with other things and art and culture? I’d be interested to hear you talk about that. I’d like to learn from you.

Scott Ferguson:  Yeah, we’ll need maybe 10 more podcasts to do that. But I can weigh in a little bit here and talk a little bit about more convergences that I see between our project and yours. So yes, we are aligned with David Graeber’s work in Debt, although we would say that we complicate Graber and that modern monetary theory does too, in the sense that we tend to be more interested in just recasting re-understanding money in the first place is not bound to that private, possessive labor theory of value in the first place. That it is not about private exploitation, private property and private exchange, that money is essentially a kind of public utility that belongs to all of us. And that as much as it works through debt, the other side of debt, which Graber doesn’t really talk about in his giant volume, is credit and credit is a kind of granting, a kind of creativity, a kind of you could say artistic practice. We want to recover that positive dimension, and not just at the individual level, but at the mezzo and macro level and modern monetary theory and certain adjacent heterodox left legal scholarship, that we’re in dialogue with, too, will argue again, and again, that money is a political and legal design. It is a construction that can be constructed in all kinds of ways. So it just so happens that this modern Euro-American bourgeois, now globalized, monetary system is organized around this private, possessive, mastering individual, predicated on the exploitation of others. But in a sense, that’s a lie. And that money doesn’t have to be organized in that way. In fact, it often doesn’t actually work the way that the dominant ideology says it does. So another way in which I think our work really converges, in my own particular publications, I’ve been very critical of what I call the dialectic between money and aesthetics, or art and the market, that has structured this whole dialectic of autonomy and heteronomy that you’ve published on so extensively and so informatively. So I want to claim that this is all predicated on a very big L Liberal, very problematic reduction of money to private labor, private exploitation, private property, that then the bourgeoisie themselves in their philosophy, express an intense ambivalence about, and then they want an escape valve, right? They’ve constructed a world of monetary economy that they assume must be inherently alienating. They need to theorize and practice this sensuous sphere of expansive communion with nature and others. The Marxist tradition to its credit will come along and say, Ah, you hypocritical bourgeoisie, we should be having this aesthetic project realized in our everyday lives. We at Money on the Left would agree, but where we break with the Marxist tradition is because we say, we can do that, and we need to do that through money as a public project that is a democratic, sensuous project. Not throw out the baby with the bathwater, and just take the bourgeoisie’s word for it. That oh, indeed, money is sin, and everything’s gonna be okay, once we stop counting things, once we stop provisioning using numbers.

Grant Kester:  That’s really helpful, Scott. Thank you for that. That makes so much sense. Yeah, what you’re describing in terms of the aesthetic for the bourgeoisie, I mean, this is very much connected, and maybe, almost identical to the idea of the false transcendence that the aesthetic is meant to provide for the bourgeois subject. Schiller talks about this experience that you have, when you have an aesthetic encounter in which you step back from your unselfconscious immersion in the external world and pay attention to– he gets it from Kant in Critique of Judgment. Pay attention to the operations of parts of your mind or consciousness, the kind of the form giving drive and the sensuous drive and so on. That in that moment, you have an intuition of something different than what it is. That something different is a world in which you can conjoin sensuous pleasure and joy, and the form giving drive is the controlling drive and the masking drive that those things can be synthesized and not held apart. But of course, for Schiller, that can only happen in the realm of what he called ‘semblance’ that can only be a representation in art. You can’t try to make it happen in the real world of monetary policy, for example.

Scott Ferguson:  Right, it has to be disinterested, no interest, because interest can only be bourgeois interests, right? It can’t be about collective or democratic interests.

Grant Kester:  Absolutely. You know, and think about the way this interest is structured in the enlightenment. It’s always going to involve this emptying out of the self. To get to the disinterested self, you have to go back to this free, Schiller will talk about this, the self before any external determination. So you empty out the entire contents of what it is to be a subject to become disinterested, because all the rest of it are accumulated experiences. Being human is completely invalid and irrelevant.

Billy Saas:  You pay someone to carry your interests in a sack.

Scott Ferguson:  I mean, I’m pretty preoccupied with the Franciscan roots of modernity, and that kind of kenotic self emptying. They didn’t invent it, but they were very much a part of that. This very zero sum sense that, in order to have a transcendent connection with God, I have to empty myself of all, of interest in any kind of possession, any kind of mediation in institutions, etc, etc.

Grant Kester:  It’s a lot like German Pietism, which is an important influence on quite a number of German aesthetic philosophers who were informed by that same tradition. In the Pietist tradition, it’s the same argument about the emptying of the self and so on to achieve transcendence and everything else. Yeah, because the self here and now is always impure, always contaminated, and incapable of utopian thought, incapable of indulging in joy or sensuality without being corrupted in some manner. Yeah, it’s very interesting.

Scott Ferguson:  Right. So we just would say that, I mean, there are very corrupt monetary designs. There are very, very evil fiscal policies. There are very, very terrible, terrible ways in which money is privatized and used for exploitative purposes. But at the same time, we are obliged to imagine alternatives and alternatives that don’t escape from the problem but embrace it and transform it. I’m interested in all of your wonderful examples and money touches everything, but I’m especially interested in the examples that seem to be more conventional, overtly taking up this role of democratic public provisioning. In my own work I’ve written about Mierle Laderman Ukeles who you touch on too, right? She’s working with the New York Sanitation Department to this very day. She’s not just staging events, calling attention to care work and maintenance work, but she’s using the public purse to provision aesthetic collective practices, and I find that extremely inspiring.

Grant Kester:  Well, you’re probably familiar with this work already, but Helen and Newton Harrison’s work, Newton passed away just recently, but they worked for decades on environmental policy issues that were in some cases, they were in dialogue in their projects in Europe and elsewhere with public agencies to implement solutions, responses to particular environmental situations, that were intensely problematic, or to envision a replanning a form of planning at the regional or broader scale that governments would need to be part of that would be much, much more healthy, productive, less destructive. Their entire life is dedicated to that matrix between their individual practice and public policy. You see the same thing and Suzanne Lacy’s work as well, in her relationship to work in the criminal justice system and working in Oakland in the 90s. Those are really interesting examples. Yeah, I can see now, the connection.

Scott Ferguson:  Well, we’re gonna stop here, but this seems like the beginning of a much longer conversation, Grant. Thanks so much for coming on Money on the Left and speaking with us.Grant Kester:  It was my pleasure. I learned so much from both of you, and I really enjoyed it. I really did. So thank you for the invitation.

* Thanks to the Money on the Left production teamWilliam Saas (audio editor), Mike Lewis (transcription), & Robert Rusch (graphic art)

Modern Money & the Black University Concept

Money on the Left: History, Theory, Practice
Vol. 1, No. 1 (2024)

ISSN 2833-051X

Modern Money & the Black University Concept
By Andrew J. Douglas

Abstract

Recent efforts to rethink the university as a site of monetary experimentation share several affinities with the “Black University” movement of the mid-twentieth century. Today’s “Uni” currency project, one of the more edifying policy visions to emerge from recent work in modern money theory, reimagines the university as a currency-issuing institution, a kind of public or community bank that can create money as a means of provisioning itself and mobilizing campus resources in more democratically accountable ways. The Black University movement—which, during its heyday in the late 1960s, sought to pioneer a new model of the university, one dedicated entirely to Pan-African research and community development—likewise sought to move beyond conceits of capitalist finance in order to leverage the campus community in service of cooperative and sustainable investment initiatives. In exposing their understanding of money and finance, I show how theorists of the Black University provided a rich critique of an orthodox or private money paradigm but did not have the language or conceptual tools to think beyond it, even if implicitly they imagined something like a public or modern money framework— what I call a Black counterpublic money—as fundamental to a broader Black worldmaking agenda. An appreciation of modern money theory and the potential of endogenous credit creation may help to renew the Black University movement in our time. Still, Black radical concerns about empire and racist state violence, key impetuses of the Black University, pose challenging questions for any philosophy of money rooted in the history and conceptual apparatus of European modernity.

Andrew J. Douglas is a professor of political science at Morehouse College. As a political theorist, Douglas focuses on theories and histories of Black radicalism, capitalism, money, labor, and debt. Douglas is the author of several articles and three books, including W.E.B. Du Bois and the Critique of the Competitive Society (2019) and, with Jared Loggins, Prophet of Discontent: Martin Luther King Jr. and the Critique of Racial Capitalism (2021).

Economic Democracy with Pavlina Tcherneva

Money on the Left speaks with Pavlina Tcherneva, Professor of Economics at Bard College and leading scholar of–-and advocate for—Modern Monetary Theory (MMT). Many of our listeners will be familiar with Dr. Tcherneva’s contributions to MMT, especially her book, The Case for a Job Guarantee (Polity Press, 2020). She is also Director of Open Society University Network’s Economic Democracy Initiative, instrumental to the publication of a United Nations report on the job guarantee, titled “The Employment Guarantee as a Tool in the Fight Against Poverty.” We speak with Pavlina about her work, and also get her perspective on the causes and conditions of MMT’s movement from the margins of economic discourse toward the mainstream of political economic thought. 

Visit our Patreon page here: https://www.patreon.com/MoLsuperstructure

Music by Nahneen Kula: www.nahneenkula.com

Transcript

The following was transcribed by Mike Lewis and has been lightly edited for clarity.

Billy Saas:  Pavlina Tcherneva, welcome to Money on the Left.

Pavlina Tcherneva:  Thank you for having me.

Billy Saas:  We’re very excited to have you, of course, a very accomplished author and researcher, and respected MMT principle theorist. How did you get here, where you are today? And how did you come to MMT?

Pavlina Tcherneva:  Oh, how long do you have? It is true that perhaps your audience knows me most with my work on the job guarantee and the recent book that came out in 2020 The Case for a Job Guarantee, but I didn’t actually quite start there. I would say that probably like most MMTers, certainly the initial group. I, too, was caught up by what Keynes called “Babylonian madness”. We all were provoked to look at the history of money because we realized early on that there was one research project that was not fully developed even in heterodox theory. That was the project of understanding money as fundamentally a public institution and as you well know, heterodox theory has long talked about money as a core analytical category in understanding a monetary production economy, a capitalist economy, a market economy. Orthodox approaches had no finance, had no money beyond some very simple kind of assumptions about it being a numeraire. But Post-Keynesian Institutionalists, too, didn’t really have a rigorous program, looking at money as a public institution. We had a lot on endogenous money, on financial instability, on how unemployment is a monetary phenomenon, on all of the important things of capitalism, except I would say the state. This work did exist out there, but I would say that with our work and our introduction to Warren Mosler, getting together with Randy Wray, Matt Forstater, Stephanie Kelton, the familiar names, this is when we all started thinking: well, what’s missing here in the analysis? And there’s one very basic, fundamental, stylized fact that every student knows. Every student knows that the currency is a public monopoly. It’s probably the purest form of monopoly, and yet the profession didn’t have much to say about this. So when I did my internship with Warren Mosler in ’96, that was really the first question: what are the implications of a currency being a public monopoly? In economics, you might find something in mainstream theory, mainstream literature about competing currencies, the efficiency of the chosen numeraire, these kinds of frameworks. Then you will find something about the state usurping power over the monetary unit because it comes from gold and market exchange, all of this really unfounded in history and anthropology and sociology. Nobody tells the stories except economists. But that’s the extent of what we would find in Orthodox theory, that the currency monopoly is somehow the state taking over some innovation that the private market came to. The other thing you would find in mainstream theory is to say, Well, if the government decided to then print its own currency, then of course, it naturally will inflate it, it will abuse it, and can’t do anything good with it. That is just a very thin analysis. But there are deeper, I think, questions to be answered. Some of the very first things that I did, and almost in a playful way, when I was working for Warren was to say: okay, well, can we model this? What could be some of these implications that if the state is the monopoly currency issuer, what are some implications from that basic stylized fact? The very first one is the one that everybody associates with MMT: the government can’t run out and that’s obvious. I think we got to go deeper than just the very obvious that we can’t run out of money. That’s clear. Well, if you’re a monopolist, then you have some unique powers. Pricing power is an important one. I think that is still under-researched, in terms of the MMT project. We have statements, we have made certain claims, but I feel like the literature needs to develop on that front. One of the pricing powers is that you can set the price of money itself. That is, of course, the interest rate. We know very well that the government can do that. The central bank is the one that can set the price of money. The other one is that you can also set the price of how the currency exchanges for other things. You can set a conversion rate. So, if the state is the one that imposes some kind of tax liability, and people need to earn the currency, then what do they need to deliver in exchange and what price would be paid for whatever they deliver? So, those were kind of macro, they were modeling questions, they were as theoretical questions to me, they were very interesting questions because one of the things that I showed with the math model is that if the more you pay as a currency monopolist, the fewer resources you’re going to attract, given a certain tax liability. That was kind of counterintuitive. The more the public sector injects it to the private sector, the fewer resources it might be able to attract given the tax obligation. So that was the first question, but then the second was: Well, how could the state inject currency into the economy? Could the state do it in a way to just always employ unemployed labor? Again, the job guarantee initially was, for me, this very much of a macro question, is there a way for the government to spend in a better way, in a way that it can secure full employment? Very quickly it was clear that full employment and price stability were not competing goals. That, in fact, they were very much part of these inherent powers of the state. So the job guarantee emerged as this alternative to the NAIRU. Heterodoxy, for a very long time, had criticized the NAIRU. It had very thorough, rigorous critique, but I would say, probably not an alternative policy proposal. I think, for me, that very quickly was quite obvious that certainly you can use your pricing powers to anchor prices of a very fundamental, most essential input of production. You can do it to create full employment, and then, of course, you have other tools to deal with inflation and price stability. So as I said, for me, the MMT project was about identifying some kind of essential principles behind the currency rather than some accidental, if you will, aspects to the monetary system, and how we can utilize the monetary system to create more economic stability and full employment. Over time, this project became quite personal. It became personal when I did my dissertation because I was able to observe how a job guarantee or program inspired by the job guarantee proposal was implemented in Argentina. When I was able to visit and see how the program was run, the impact on women, on poor mothers, on communities, I mean, that’s when everything changed. It became just as important that we have a framework for thinking of how macro policy can be implemented, but also to understand the on the ground effects of macro policy. If there is one theme that I think runs through my work, is the question of how can we do things better? That ranges from how to do fiscal policy better, how we can improve on what we’re doing currently, how we can do monetary policy better, and the like. So I would say that that is really the overarching theme. Not so much “Can we pay for it?” Yes, of course we can. But now that we can, what shall we do with these fundamental powers?

Scott Ferguson:  Very often, I hear from folks, sometimes well-meaning, sometimes not well-meaning, that MMT is just a warmed over or a reboot of so called Keynesianism and there’s no attention into, let’s say differentiations in the history of what’s been called Keynesianism, no recognition that what came to count as Keynesianism in mid-century was highly influenced by neoclassical modeling. I want to give you an opportunity to tell our listeners about your research in your readings of Keynes, and in your view, how MMT is related to Keynes’s work?

Pavlina Tcherneva:  Keynes’ own writings are really a treasure trove of information. You can dig in and dig in, and it’s fair to say that what we find in the textbook has very little to do with his overall approach. And I would argue that they stand apart, both on theoretical and methodological grounds. So what we typically get in the textbook is this kind of hydraulic version of Keynesianism, which says, the private sector has some kind of flaws, imperfections, sometimes they could be shocks, and the public sector can step in, to smooth out those cycles. There is a notion that when there’s a shock to demand, to spending and investment, then the public sector just needs to boost its own expenditures, and bring us back to our growth path. Then there’s something about multipliers and what is the effectiveness of that spending? Is it really the right way to go about this, could monetary policy do the job? There’s a whole bunch of discussion there of which policy tool is the more effective one. Well, Keynes was very clear on this matter, monetary policy is not a way to stabilize an unstable economy, it’s really the fiscal authority that can do the job. But the way we go about it is also very important. Keynes almost never spoke about aggregate demand. He never talked about aggregate demand management, he will talk about aggregate measures trying to figure out aggregate activity, because he was trying to separate the macro economy from the micro economy. But he mostly talked about public investment. He mostly talked about public works. This was not because he just preferred public works, but because he was very interested in the connection between spending and employment. For him, this was the cardinal measure for figuring out the effectiveness. It’s not whether you smooth out this business cycle. It’s not whether you bring the economy back to some growth path, it is whether you can create full employment, and by full employment, we mean people who need work. And he has very clear statements that when we think about people, we’re thinking about people who are newly entering the labor force, we’re thinking of people who might be underemployed, disguised unemployment, the whole life. Even his methodology in the way we measure economic activity was based on two units, and those were wage units and labor units. So you see, the entire framework was grounded in, I would say, this kind of humanistic approach that the economy is there to serve people to serve the concrete needs of society. The way we measure our economic activity is by what we do. So from there, fiscal policy would need to provide public employment and public investment to create a well-run economy. Keynes used to say the two outstanding faults of economic society were the failure to secure full employment and the arbitrary and inequitable distribution of income. From the point of view of policy, these are connected. If you fail to secure full employment, you are going to have an arbitrary and inequitable distribution of income. There may be many other reasons why inequality might be increasing, but labor income is critical for the more equitable distribution of income. So I have an article called Permanent On-The-Spot Job Creation—The Missing Keynes Plan for Full Employment and Economic Transformation. In that article, I make a case that, actually, the original Keynes proposal for full employment very much resembles a kind of job guarantee or employer of last resort proposal, because for him, it was quite easy to get the economy to work at let’s say, 90% capacity, but the remaining 10% were much harder to achieve and that meant full employment. For him, it was better distributed demand, hiring people in distressed areas, having a policy of Public Works that will be on standby, that will be permanently implemented, so that it absorbs new entrants, job seekers as needed; that those projects will be implemented in areas that have the greatest economic need, the greatest level of unemployment; and that this policy will not be a stop gap measure the way we normally do fiscal policy. We have crisis and fiscal policy steps. It is something that is permanent infrastructure, so that folks have an unemployment safety net, some kind of security and we minimize the huge impact from mass layoffs. We always have a public employment option. The Keynes plan was very clear: it’s very difficult to fluctuate big infrastructure projects in short order. What you have to be thinking about is direct public employment. But we normally associate Keynesian policy with building bridges and mass infrastructure investment. All of this is well and good, all of it as necessary, but it’s not a way to achieve full employment. For Keynes, of course, the greatest socialization of investment was very important so that there will be major projects that will be under public auspices. I would call them economic rights. You can think of healthcare, you can think of education, you can think of housing, you can think of various public services, but of course, infrastructure too, and still that will not be sufficient. We still will need to have a direct employment program, and that will be a kind of policy to address community needs. He has these marvelous quotes, he says: There are things to be done. There are people to do them. Why not put the two of them together? Why not put people to work? The country is not a finished proposition, far from it. It’s crazy to sit puffing one’s pipe telling the unemployed that it would be most unsafe to find them any work. I just love it, and everything that you read, you see how he had a very strong social concern. Something that I don’t know if people normally associate. He had a concept of the good life. And I think that that motivates a lot of his writings. He says that goodness is never really the problem, it’s cleverness. We just need to devise the means, we have to find new mechanisms to secure full employment. For me, the job guarantee very much falls in the spirit of this Keynesian approach. The contemporary fiscal policy is this very much top down hydraulic approach, where we just provide mega contracts to the mega firms with mega profits. Firms that, as we know, thrive on predatory labor practices, predatory pricing practices, and that is an upside down kind of approach. We count on this to stabilize our economy and bring full employment, which of course it doesn’t. So then we redefine the problem. We say, well, there’s only so much we can do, we have to live with some level of natural unemployment. That was an anathema to Keynes. I can go on and on, but I would say that Keynes does preempt the NAIRU debates in his own work, because he is very clear that the closer you get to full employment, the more you attempt to secure it by generalized means, by aggregate expenditure, the more income will go to the capital share, rather than the labor share. And you’re already going to be creating income inequality through these aggregate measures, by directing them to sectors that are already saturated, that are operating at maximum capacity, and you’re just going to feed the profit share. This work is then, I’d say, augmented by Minsky’s own analysis, which also informs my own work, where he talks about how the there is an inequality within the labor share, because we tend to stabilize the employment chances and opportunities of those who are employed already, and those who are high wage folks. The current paradigm is very inequitable, so we go back to MMT and say, Okay, we clearly have extraordinary spending powers. What should fiscal policy do? Should it mimic private sector investment behavior? Should it try to stimulate investment-led growth? Or should we find a kind of bottom up policy that acts as a robust, automatic stabilizer that stabilizes wages at the bottom and secures full employment over the long run?

Scott Ferguson:  My next question, I think you’ve already begun to answer it. But I want to be more explicit about this question. And it has to do with politics and power. Certain interpretations, especially on the left of Modern Monetary Theory, usually verbally linked to accusations that MMT is just warmed-over Keynesianism is that: well, MMT is merely technocratic. It’s offering a bunch of technocratic fixes, but it has no analysis of power and has no relationship to power. Of course, we at Money on the Left do not believe this at all. But we want to give you a chance to respond to that kind of criticism.

Pavlina Tcherneva:  In some way, I understand where the criticism comes through. My proclivity is to get some of the macro right. But that is not to say these policies, as we articulate, are a shoe in for our political landscape. It’s almost like a doctor, you need to know the medicine that’s right. Whether that is going to work really depends on the patient. It depends on the social circumstances. It depends on the context within which we’re practicing. It depends on so much of the social reality. I think that the second thing to say is that MMT really makes very clear that money in and of itself is a political project. That it emerges within the context of some exclusive powers and those powers, whether it is the power to tax, whether the power to compel somebody to work, whether it is the power to command resources, all of that, you need to have a political analysis and historically contingent analysis of how a monetary system would work. I would say MMT, long before the critique, was the one that developed a kind of a spectrum, I would say, for sovereignty. We began with, in fact, studying a non-sovereign regime. A lot of our work began by looking at the Eurozone, and that was a political project. That was a project that chose to integrate Europe via structural adjustment. I would say from the very beginning, we zeroed in on these political forces that created a very dysfunctional framework, which then deliberately constrains the capacity of the state to act. So I would say that in all of our work. I think at core, our focus has been on how to emancipate the state from not just myths about government spending, but from this kind of neoliberal logic that the state can’t act. We need private actors. We have to solicit large private capital to do social investment. I mean, this is really the reason behind our insistence that the state has capacities–capacity to spend, capacity to act–because we, at bottom, would like to have a more just, if you will, democratic order. Very often it’s true that we say that the MMT precepts are there for the taking. Autocrats can take them, right? Authoritarians can take them and they do often. So we want to be able to articulate a vision of what a democratic social order might look like, and this is where we might disagree with what are the objectives of a public policy. We will indeed insist that full employment will be front and center. Not full employment as an abstraction, but as a real thing. What does it mean to have full employment? What does it mean to have decent jobs? What does it mean that every person should have access to dignified employment opportunities? In some ways, I’d like to skip over the question of how we will pay for it so that we can start talking about the difficult questions. Should we have an economic system where some people are denied employment? On what grounds and bases do we deny them? I think the politics are very much wrapped into these myths. We can’t really put a stake through current political, I would say institutional obstacles to doing public policy, until we shed some of these myths about jobs, about the state, about its funding capacity, etc.

Billy Saas:  Talking about power, I think it’s interesting to reflect on the recent history of MMT. As an aside, warmed over Keynesianism is pretty good on reflection when Keynes is such a great writer. And you can go back and find so many beautiful quotes and so much evidence of his literary and philosophical sophistication and the inseparability of its theoretical, economic insights with the normativity of those insights and his kind of normative preferences. A long aside there, but just a shout out to warmed-over Keynesianism on its own. We had a great episode with Matt Seybold, host of The American Vandal podcast a couple months ago, where Matt talked with Scott and Rob about the literary character and interest and emphasis of Keynes writing. The recent history of MMT is of great interest to me and something that I have written and researched quite a bit about. I want to simultaneously do two things: one, run my understanding of that recent history by you and see if I can get a verification, and maybe correction, but then also ask you to kind of reflect on as, especially over recent years, there have been more numerous and I think, very interesting, sometimes difficult encounters of MMT with power. Y’all have gotten very close to it. Right? In terms of the body of theorists and the discourse of MMT has been in the mainstream press a lot. They’ve been in the conversations and important policy discussions. So two-parter. MMT we got here rough and ready. It starts in a listserv, as a conversation between a number of people across the world, the post Keynesian listserv. It starts to take off in the early 2000s, and late 1990s, through your own research through Randy Wray’s writing, through the publication of Stephanie and others. Then the blogs happen. And that takes off in its own little way. But it’s not until the financial crisis that the MMT narrative really kind of takes shape, and gained some popularity in the blogosphere and on social media. Of course, Bernie Sanders’ ascension as a kind of figure of interest on the left, and Stephanie’s proximity to him, brings that narrative more to the mainstream. I think, what I’m interested in as a communication scholar, is the rhetorical strategies and how they’ve sort of evolved over time and talk about power, in the context of economics. It is notoriously concentrated in a few departments, with PhD programs, and then they train students who go out and spread the gospel of neoclassical or orthodoxy and whatnot. So part of the story of MMT is, and this has shown up a lot, I think, in the work of your own and others, reflection on what has worked in persuading people to see the world and the economy in the way that y’all see it. You talked about the myths that are constantly presenting themselves, they seem to never die. They’re just always there. They’re incredibly resilient about balanced budgets and so on. There’s a long list. The way I sort of see it now, and again, more interested in your response to this than my hypothesis, is that those hang ups, those myths and the rhetorical strategy of MMT scholars and the MMT community generally, to focus on debunking those seems like there might be some limitations to it that I think you’re acknowledging, right. You talk about, we need to sort of outline and have the difficult conversations that come after answering the simple one, which is you pay for it, because you have the money in every case. So when we’re having the conversation that we’re having right now, in 2024, MMT has had some really big moments. It’s come under controversy in the context of inflation. I guess, to wrap up my very, very long question, do you agree that what am I missing, and then narrative of the kind of history of MMT and the importance of thoughtful rhetorical strategy, which y’all wrote about and talked about a lot through the blogs. Here’s what we’re doing, to now where we seem to be at a kind of, and maybe have been for a moment at a pivotal point where the strategies are they working, as well as they once did? And what needs to happen next?

Pavlina Tcherneva:  That’s a really great question. I hope I can give you some satisfactory answers. But strategy, I think, clearly has to evolve for the moment that you’re faced with. In some ways, we stumbled upon a strategy early on, because so much of what we were saying was different from the mainstream, that we had to be very clear. Sometimes when you pare down a concept to its bare essentials, it was provocative, right? Taxes don’t pay for federal spending, it gets very provocative. And it’s a double edged sword. Because, you know, when you look at the institutional analysis, when you look at how we’ve constructed our laws, how our entire polity is surrounded around the question of a taxpayer myth. It is a really big challenge to communicate to folks that operationally, taxes don’t technically fund the government. But the clarity of the statement has been also effective because it’s attracted attention. Oh, what are those folks saying over there? Why are they even saying such a preposterous thing? And then what we’ve done is we have done the hard work to show the operations and to show the technical aspects of government finance. This without a doubt is MMTs strong suit. But as you say, just because you can demonstrate the technical aspects, doesn’t mean that folks might be convinced that that’s good enough. I think the other strategy has been, and here, you know, the economy offers no shortage of teachable moments, is that we have been able to articulate what is happening in the face of major crises, to offer a fresh perspective. It is unfortunate that crises lend themselves to concentrating the mind, and getting folks to acknowledge what is happening. I think that, in my work, I have tried to articulate how this new paradigm of whatever it takes financing is really the perfect illustration of some of the things that MMT has been saying. MMT has never been advocating whatever-it-takes financing, MMT has been articulating how the mega support that big monetary policy provided to the banking sector will not do the job. It won’t pull the economy out of a crisis, and it won’t stabilize the financial sector. Now we’re looking at mega fiscal policy, right? We have the return of Big Fiscal policy. In some sense, it’s a little silly that MMT is blamed for the return of fiscal policy. Because I think we just learned our lesson that monetary policy didn’t do the job. We slogged through the greatest jobless recovery, and now that we embrace the fiscal tools, voila, we have the fastest postwar recovery. So MMT has been there front and center, articulating what is happening and that there are ways to do things better. Even when the mega fiscal packages were being passed, very early on in March 2020, it was saying, Look, you need to have a concrete mobilization and employment and investment strategy, not just spend the money. As a communication strategy, I would say that we are using these moments to offer, I think, new ways of thinking about public policy. What is next, I think, is, well, we are now seeing the return of big industrial policy. In a way, I feel that fiscal policy has morphed into that. Fiscal policy provided reasonable economic security for folks during a very uncertain, devastating time. We had child allowance, we had income support, expanded healthcare. We had a moment in which we saw what could be done, and then that quickly disappeared as the policies expired. That is being morphed into like another big government policy, big industrial policy, but it’s again, wrapped in this neoliberal logic that we need to get private equity and investment funds to mobilize finance for the purposes of the green transition. One strategy is to always connect to what is happening, because, even though we’ve seen the return of the big three, we don’t exactly have a fundamental structural transformation of the economy. Folks are still experiencing the same problems that they were experiencing, prior to 2008. So this connects me more to what’s the next step? I do think that articulating the vision is essential. It’s not just the technical aspects. We’ve been there. We’ve explained that. If folks want to take an honest reading of what we have done, then all we can do is remind them that these last 20 years clearly demonstrated that the pay for question is bogus. It is clear, and I think that we shouldn’t entertain for a moment, reasonable economist talk of the old talk, but austerity is back with a vengeance, right? Budget cuts back. We are already reneging on climate commitments. Yeah, I’m talking about globally, right in Europe. We certainly don’t have a bold green agenda. Now, where did that energy go? I think that the return of Big Fiscal and Big Industrial is what took the air out a little bit of that energy. That we have seen things we hadn’t seen in a very long time. Now we are seeing bold Keynesian policy that we hadn’t seen in a long time. We’re a little bit, and I don’t mean we, I think the progressive movement is regrouping. Where is the next kind of major battle for our future. MMT, here, maybe I’m wrong to assume that we have won the pay for question, but to the extent that these old frames are being weaponized, it means something else is missing, right? It’s not just the technical analysis that needs to be clearly articulated. I can show you endless balance sheets and show you how with coordination without coordination, the bills are paid. But it clearly is not sufficient. I think one of the things that MMT can do is articulate maybe a little more clearly that we need to have a lid on government spending, not a lid as like budget debt to GDP ratios and deficit to GDP, but a kind of a conception of what is too much. Because I think that this is one thing that MMT unfairly suffers from, that somehow we’re being blamed for runaway spending and endless money printing. As we were talking earlier in our conversation, we’ve always had different measures for what is enough and what is appropriate and what is spending that serves the public purpose. What we’re seeing is very much this whatever it takes spending paradigm that validates a highly inflationary industrial state. An industrial state where power is resolutely in the hands of big tech, big corporations, big finance, as I said, with pricing power with, you know, abusive labor practices. This is a very inflationary paradigm. The big finance that is now being extended through industrial fiscal monetary policy validates these power structures, validates, underwrites these pricing powers, these abusive practices. I think MMT’s next question will be how to articulate that this way of using the public purse actually undermines the neoliberal structure. So I don’t know if that really answers the question of what is a good strategy to communicate these questions, but at least in terms of where the ideas are. People, in their gut, feel some kind of unfairness. Why are they so angry with the government budget? Reagan managed to sell us on the lie that we don’t have money, but actually, he repackaged folks’ anger with the big contracts, the big support for the military industrial complex into a narrative that we don’t have money. That was a huge coup. Now that we have exposed this as a lie, we still need to go back to the question of, why are we funding forever wars? Why are we funding industries that deliver very little by way of public goods, and certainly good jobs, and we can’t solely be relying on direct action and unions to do the job. We need to have public policy to upend that neoliberal logic. Again, in terms of communicating, I think going to folks’ anxieties about how this economic system doesn’t work, and deploying powers of the state is one way, but also kind of emancipating. We need to have a positive vision of the state,

Billy Saas:  That was wonderful. Yeah, brought to mind. When I think about the recent history, which is pretty much all of the history of MMT, as a body of theory and research, I wonder in thinking about communication and rhetorical strategy for getting the message out, I wonder if you have any models in mind for previous economic thinkers or bodies of literature that have overcome or somehow succeeded in becoming? I’m thinking specifically of neoclassical and Milton Friedman and neoliberalism’s ascension. Maybe another way to say this or ask this question in a more direct way is: is Milton Friedman maybe a good role model for rhetorical adaptation and strategy, given the apparent success of that school of thought in the 70s and 80s, when there was, part of their story, a breakdown of Keynesian thinking, which we know is not full Keynesian, not even warmed-over Keynesian thinking, in the 1970s. But yeah, are there other models to look at for strategies for being ready when the crisis happens, to strike? Right? And maybe not so violently in terms of, you know, an aggressive strike, but maybe MMT wasn’t ready in 2020? And how might it be ready next time?

Pavlina Tcherneva:  Well, I’m not sure that that is necessarily true. In what way can we think of MMT as being ready? In my understanding of the events that unfolded, MMT, in some ways, gave permission to policymakers to embark on bold policies without having to invoke the deficit myth. We’ll take credit because we mainstreamed this idea. We made it unacceptable to talk about how the government “doesn’t have the money”. The reality is that, throughout history whenever there have been major crises we have responded. The public sector has responded to whatever they’ve considered policy priority. What was different is that we didn’t return so quickly to have some kind of fiscal commission to some kind of mind the budget, rhetorical policy, even though it’s being weaponized at the political level. It’s just not really taken too seriously at this point until maybe, you know, Republicans come and they start slashing budgets. But as we know, the kind of support for industry, I suspect the support for industry is not going to go away. Europe has not really rushed to reinstate its fiscal rules. They’re mulling that over. There is some kind of budget crunch happening, but at least I feel that it is not looming on the horizon. If anything, MMT and if you remember the famous Mario Draghi statement, “is this the best way to allocate liquidity when it’s a matter of the green transition or inequality. No, it probably is not the best way to allocate liquidity and some new ideas like MMT, we should look at them.” I think that this was exactly the reason why Europe reverse engineered its monetary sovereignty. They understood where the straitjacket was. They had to break their own rules. Of course, this was not for the purposes of funding governments, it was really for the purposes of stabilizing yields and bank balance sheets. There is kind of an ideological battle there. Right. But how can we be ready? I mean, I think here, it is probably a question of what policies do you have on offer. The one most closely associated with MMT would be the job guarantee, although we have for a very long time talked about the downsizing of the financial sector. Certainly Randy Wray had written a lot about it, we here at the Levy Institute, for decades have been talking about financial reform. We have ideas, we’ve made statements about Medicare for All, housing guarantees, etc. So in a way, the framework is there for economic security. I don’t know if it’s rhetorical strategy that will get us there, or another fluke and another accident. Some other kind of crisis, where, you know, this will be the next idea, one of these is going to be the next idea on offer. I think you are correct. Rhetorical strategy matters, because folks have to believe in what is happening. They shouldn’t feel like the wool is being pulled over their eyes, and that they need to understand these are good measures. But what I have found in my research over the years is that the job guarantee, for example, even though it wasn’t part of mainstream conversation for such a long time, has polled very well. Even in places where then the idea is just newly introduced, it just consistently garners very high support. I will admit, even to my own surprise initially, but then you look at how bipartisan the support is, and it just makes sense. Our own history teaches us how popular the New Deal was, and how many folks called themselves Roosevelt Democrats because jobs were brought to their communities, and those were important reforms. So, I’m not sure if I’m answering your questions satisfactorily. But is Milton Friedman the model for communicating? Well, to the extent that he has made provocative statements, maybe MMT, should continue to do that, just to rattle the mainstream and bring attention to some of our ideas

Billy Saas:  I am just to clarify, I’m not suggesting that Milton Friedman was some sort of rhetorical mastermind, a lot of it was right place, right time, and serving the interests of power, and that’s entrenched at that moment. Yeah, I think that there are different considerations when you have an agenda that is not explicitly about enriching a certain amount of the population at the expense of the rest, but is about serving the public purpose.

Pavlina Tcherneva:  Let me make a comment on what has dominated the conversation over the last 20 years and I have contributed to this as you know, the question of inequality. As you know, economists didn’t talk about inequality for many, many years and that mainstream economists euphemistically referred to inequality as poverty. So the distribution of income was not really seriously taken until recently. At least in some of my work, I’ve tried to show how just the way the economies work and the way they’re stabilized, does not bring better income distribution, if anything, it makes things worse and worse. But I am worried that in that conversation about inequality, we have lost the conversation about economic security. We do understand that there is a fundamental unfairness if an economy is really shoveling all incomes and rewards to a very small group of people. But that alone is not enough. Why is the bottom 90% not able to make the good life? The so-called good life? That’s really, I think, the fundamental question of inequality. It’s not a question of income. It’s not a question of redistribution. It’s the question of pre-distribution. There was a little bit of a conversation about redistribution, but I feel that that did not take hold, as much as it should have. To the degree that we can return to that, like, what does pre-distribution mean? What does it mean for folks to have decent market income? Is that enough? What can you get with your marketing? I mean, are there preconditions to good life that are provided. The fundamental anxieties are problems that families face and are the same. This is not just the matter of income level. Yes, most people have challenges providing for health care, education, housing, but none of us are insulated from the vagaries of a financial market. Rich or poor, we all fall prey to a system that is highly unstable, very speculative and precarious. So one of the things that we have been doing at the economic democracy initiative is trying to shine a spotlight back on the question of precarity and the uncertainty of livelihoods to expand the scope. Of course, jobs to me remain critically important. But to expand the scope of what that precarity entails.

Scott Ferguson:  So you’ve made the transition for me because I was going to ask you next to tell us about your recent project, the Economic Democracy Initiative.

Pavlina Tcherneva:  Well, yes, the Economic Democracy Initiative is a project at Bard College, which as the name suggests, tries to address the fundamental questions of what we once called economic rights. Our research, our policy outreach, our curricular programs, really tried to get to this question of the structural transformation that might be required for a more democratic social order, we have a few major projects. One is this symposium on what happens after neoliberalism. And there we engage with a series of topics. But the two dominant themes, and what sets this project apart from other projects on neoliberalism are two specific areas. The first one is the area of precarity. That’s a fundamental force that reproduces the neoliberal economy. I already talked about this. We don’t see illiberalism, or the rise of authoritarianism, as some kind of evidence of the Crisis of Neoliberalism. To the contrary, we see that as a consolidation of neoliberalism. It’s because liberal democracy has failed to address the question of economic insecurity. So that’s like the first overarching theme. The second overarching theme is an MMT informed theme, that we want to look at this interdependence between public and private finance, and really zero in on how we can emancipate the public purse from private interests. That can happen both at the policy level but also legally and institutionally. As I just discussed, the states respond to crises with whatever it takes financing strategies, but they don’t do the same for the purposes of the green transition, for the purposes of securing the social safety net, so I have a piece that’s coming out on that symposium on this precise question. Then, we explore various other sub topics like the future of work, what is a diagnosis, what is ailing the 99%, what varieties of capitalism, if you will, or trajectories for social transformation. We try to interrogate emergent futures, etc. So this is a long form symposium with long form pieces. I urge you to see it, and the website is postneoliberalism.org. The second project that we’ve been working on is a project around the job guarantee, we have curated a resource, online resource, which not only presents interested researchers and policymakers with the vast body of literature, academic policy, and other, but we also have a global map of programs, which have been tried large or small, that have some of the features of the job guarantee, or at least aspire to kind of a job guarantee model, we don’t obviously have a fully fledged job guarantee anywhere in the world, although there is a major program in India, which I think is still not well known by many in the West. It has provided a lot of interesting lessons about implementation, and impacts of a job guarantee in a developing context. So we have anything from polling information to various legislative documents. It’s a resource for the taking, we also have highlighted the Living New Deal map with legacy projects of the New Deal in the United States. So that’s the second research project. We are now seeding research, as I said, on New Directions In Finance, together with the Levy Economics Institute, and we had a fantastic workshop in November, all the videos are posted on our YouTube channel. So I invite your listeners to look those up. So I’m wondering if you can say a little bit more about pedagogy in the EDI curriculum? Yeah. Some of the programs that we have put together are accessible to students all over the world. Bard College is part of a broader university network, with institutions with whom we’ve partnered for many, many years. Some of the things that we’re doing include summer workshops that are attended by students from virtually every continent, as well as crafting courses that are then also offered at partner institutions. We have a certificate in public policy. The basic philosophy behind the certificate is that one cannot consider themselves an informed policymaker unless they understand the intellectual history of some of the policy ideas. So one of our core courses is actually a course called Economic Perspectives, which I teach at Bard, that is a history of economic thought course with a policy twist, where students try to grapple with the grand debate around ideas such as the minimum wage. Why do they disagree so much on a minimum wage policy and on living wage policy? This tension between markets and state, we try to explore this in this critical way, both when they learn their intellectual giants, but also how these ideas are being applied today to public policy. So that’s the first component to that certificate. The second one is that, well, an informed policy maker needs to know something about economic history as well. We have a number of courses that do that, but one of the ones that I have created is the course called The Right to Employment. That basically studies the struggle to secure the right to employment through time, but in a very interdisciplinary way. Students do get introduced to, again, some of the battles of economic ideas, a little bit of modeling, a little bit of theory, but also legislative documents around the world, various international debt declarations, and concrete policies that have attempted to secure that right to employment and we have a number of other curricular programs. One of them, as I said, is a summer workshop, which is open to undergraduate students. It does provide a new approach to public finance. Again, it is an introduction to some MMT ideas, but it does provide a framework of core policy goals around which discussions of money take place. So the framework is one that is centered on questions of stability, sustainability, and security. This provides us with the context in which we can explore questions of the green transition, macro questions of how do you stabilize an unstable economy? What is security, the multi dimensional ways in which we can think about economic security? These have been really great fun. MMT has typically engaged with the graduate community, and now we’re engaging with undergraduates. Sometimes education happens in mysterious ways, not in ways in which you plan it. So one of the most recent things that I learned about is that currently there are high schools across the country that are debating the job guarantee because it has made it into the national debates. The proposition that is being discussed this year, and the background literature is actually put together by the Librarian of Congress, and that proposition is that the government should substantially improve income distribution by implementing a federal job guarantee, basic income, or Social Security. I have been hearing from students and debate judges and program managers from around the country telling me that the job guarantee really is emerging as a favorite, as a topic of great interest. Students have been studying it for the last few months in preparation. This has been really, really heartwarming and really just phenomenal to hear.

Billy Saas:  It’s so cool, not something that you could plan for or sounds like you would have planned for at all.

Pavlina Tcherneva:  No, I didn’t, I had nothing to do with it. I received an email from a program manager who said, “Did you have any idea that this was happening?” Since then, I have been asked to connect with students. I’ve received emails from students with questions. So it’s just really fantastic. Young people are engaging. There’s something in the air because I was asked to give a talk to another high school just like a month ago and there were like 500 students in the audience and their eyes were like this. And yeah, I don’t know. But the Chicago project managers said that the students were putting together their own proposals for a job guarantee. I will vote for them.

Scott Ferguson:  That is fantastic. That is so wonderful. So one of the final things I’d like to ask you about, if it’s kosher to respond to this question, but I know you’ve done some research and publication with the UN. Could you talk about that work and maybe think about how you seem to have a global framework whenever you’re discussing any of these issues, but it seems like the work with the UN is very much explicitly addressing questions of poverty and jobs policies in an international context.

Pavlina Tcherneva:  Yeah, absolutely. Last year, I worked with the Special Rapporteur, the UN Rapporteur Olivia De Schutter –he’s the Special Rapporteur on extreme poverty and human rights– in developing the new UN report on the job guarantee. I think this was a really, really important document because it is, of course, an international statement of the importance of the policy. The angle that he took was primarily poverty eradication, because in the vast majority of the world, you know, this is an acute problem, and the employment strategy, I would say, is probably under emphasized. Of course, the ILO has been doing this for many, many years, but it is important that the UN had a statement, because in some way, there’s a kind of formal presentation of these policies to nation states. If they so choose to reflect, then they have to make a formal position and some kind of statement on the document. There’s some interest in the international level, they have been interested in Brazil and Colombia, folks who are thinking hard about this kind of employment intensive strategy for development, and the job guarantee specifically. Some of the work has filtered into other legislative work  organically and naturally. We had worked last year to build a job guarantee coalition in Europe, I had worked with a European MP Aurore Lalucq, who was also instrumental in drafting a resolution for the European Union on just transition and good jobs. The document is also very, very powerful, and it also includes the job guarantee proposal as part of that framework. I think what we’re looking for here is shifts in thinking and policy and strategy. I think it is fair to say that the job guarantee is a policy innovation. There have been direct employment projects, active labor market policies that will be implemented in various contexts, whether it is to address gender issues, poverty issues, crisis, youth unemployment, but the job guarantee as a framework for employment security, employment safety net, does represent, I think, a shift in the policy and the mainstream thinking about about these issues. So it’s good to see that there is some kind of international recognition, and hopefully, that can also translate into concrete policy action. Certainly in Europe, there are various experiments that are ongoing, and they are really good to study. They give us some really good insights into the health effects of these programs on people, the community effects, and the way to run the projects to administer them. It’s really, really important work.

Billy Saas:  In this context of an international statement through the UN on a job guarantee, I wonder, is there space you think for, or has there been much discussion of exploring a policy of an international job guarantee? What that might even look like? If it’s possible in any sort of way, shape or form?

Pavlina Tcherneva:  I like your ambition, Billy. I mean, at the end of the day, isn’t that the logical conclusion of the job guarantee? It is important for developed countries to do it, to lead, to set the tone, to demonstrate to mainstream this kind of policy focus. But what I have found is that perhaps the greatest interest currently is from the developing world, because unemployment is such a huge, acute problem, and the largest scale experimentations in recent history happened there. Argentina, South Africa, India. But I think at the end of the day, you’re right, we want to have a full employment framework everywhere. I should say that once the international community did recognize this very clearly, certainly in the UN charter, the ILO Charter, the WTO charter, the initial charter. The idea was that every country has to pursue full employment so that we can benefit from whether it has benefits from trade, whether it is from other cooperation, economic integration.

Billy Saas:  Well, this has been wonderful. Pavlina Tcherneva, thank you so much for joining us on Money on the Left.

Pavlina Tcherneva:  Thank you for having me. It was great to talk to you

* Thanks to the Money on the Left production teamWilliam Saas (audio editor), Mike Lewis (transcription), & Robert Rusch (graphic art)

The Alternative w/Nick Romeo

Scott Ferguson and Billy Saas speak with New Yorker writer Nick Romeo about his exciting new book, The Alternative: How to Build a Just Economy, released in January 2024 with Public Affairs. Romeo’s The Alternative rebukes Margaret Thatcher’s infamous axiom that “there is no alternative” to neoliberal capitalism. In doing so, the book inventories the most promising experiments in radical economic democracy underway across the world today. Such experiments include, but are not limited to: a publicly-owned and -run gig work platform in Long Beach, California; a True Price system in Amsterdam; a public budgeting project in Cascais, Portugal; and a public Job Guarantee in Gramatneusiedl, Austria. (See our previous episode on the Austrian Job Guarantee for a deeper dive into that topic.) Taken together, these and other initiatives profiled in the book “share a vision of the economy as a place of moral action and accountability,” as Romeo puts it, while modeling the kind of radical political economic imagination that is so utterly and urgently needed to meet our dire ecological moment. For Romeo, then, it remains insufficient to simply deny Thatcher’s quip that there is no alternative. The crucial task is to actively imagine and create the alternative.

Visit our Patreon page here: https://www.patreon.com/MoLsuperstructure

Music by Nahneen Kula: www.nahneenkula.com

Transcript

The following was transcribed by Mike Lewis and has been lightly edited for clarity.

Scott Ferguson:  Nick Romeo, welcome to Money on the Left.

Nick Romeo:  Thanks for having me.

Scott Ferguson:  So we’ve asked you to join us today because you have a new book that’s just out with Public Affairs Books called The Alternative: How to Build a Just Economy. We want to get into the book, but maybe to kick off our conversation, you can tell our listeners a little bit about your professional background, and how you came to become the reporter of political economy at The New Yorker Magazine

Nick Romeo:  Sure, yeah, I like that description. I’m not sure the magazine would endorse it, but I will. Two levels at which I could answer that. The first is just the last few years I have been covering a kind of political economy beat for The New Yorker. I was in Europe for a lot of that time, which was helpful in finding interesting economic paradigms and models that are a little outside of the status quo. A second level is zooming back a bit more in time. Some of my graduate work in academia was in ancient philosophy, which might seem very different, but my way into economics, the thing that actually let me get excited about it was recognizing it as a branch of political philosophy. Not only is the word from ancient Greek, but really for a lot of the tradition of economics, the subject itself was thought of as political economy. As that title suggests, there are these inescapable normative and ethical dimensions to it. I think if you push on economic premises, pretty quickly you get to really rich philosophical questions about what is a good life? What is a fair society? And these are just eternally interesting.

Billy Saas:  So who are you guys in terms of ancient philosophy?

Nick Romeo:  Well, Aristotle, I think, is actually incredibly insightful as an economist, and I’m interestingly not alone in that view. The economist Sam Bowles ends a book on game theory with the observation that a lot of these insights that have come out of the field in the last 10 years are sort of rediscoveries of Aristotle and that Aristotle in a lot of ways is still more subtle than contemporary economists. So I think a lot of the brighter economics people today are cognizant of that intellectual heritage.

Scott Ferguson:  I think most of the book, most of the chapters are exploring various kinds of alternative programs, ways of not just conceiving of political economy, but practicing it and structures and organizations and designs. We want to get into those details, but maybe we can begin the way you begin the book, which is kind of reframing for a more popular audience, reframing what the proper questions and problems of economics are. I was wondering if you could give our listeners a little taste of how you set up the book and how you frame it.

Nick Romeo:  Absolutely, yeah. So the first chapter of the book is about the struggle for the Econ 101 curriculum that is currently raging in academia. That led me to get into some of the history of the field and how it’s been conceived and organized in the last few centuries. One sort of simple way is to think about a famous quote from John Maynard Keynes, who once remarked that the master Economist has four elements: he or she must be mathematician, philosopher, statesman and historian to some degree. So a critique of how economics has kind of emerged in academic contexts in the last 50 years would be that it really shears off three of those four elements and has a highly mathematized form, especially as you get more into graduate level work. It’s very, very interested in formal modeling and quantification. I think Keynes is right, though, that these other elements are essential to the discipline. There are people who share this view still today. Ha Joon Chang, who I quote in the book was an economist at Cambridge for many decades. He, within the last decade, remarked that economics is just one long political argument. The feminist economist Julie Nelson, is also pretty sympathetic to this framing of the field. So you might wonder what’s at stake here, right? It’s a fair question when academics are debating about the contents of a curricula you might think, does this actually matter? In the first chapter, I also get into some of the political stakes for how economics is taught. Paul Samuelson wrote one of the best selling Econ textbooks of the 20th century. He also famously said, “I don’t care who writes a nation’s laws, if I get to write it’s economics textbooks.” So, he got his wish. His book helped introduce Keynes to America. There’s something profoundly creepy about that remark. I think it’s very kind of anti-democratic, he’s cognizant of his role as a shaper of cultural common sense. He can sort of constrain or expand political imagination at will. Delegating that to an economist, or to anyone, even if you’re sort of sympathetic to their politics, there’s a kind of principled objection to doing that, right? I mean, we should be a little more explicit in our premises and assumptions. So another way to think about the stakes of economics education, and why does it matter what’s in econ 101, is that we don’t want just one person or even a set of people presenting what are moral and political assumptions under the rubric of natural science. A final strand that I think is relevant, and that I tried to trace, at least at some level, in the first chapter of the book, is this maneuver that analogizes the economy to a physical sphere with discoverable, immutable laws, akin to laws of physics or chemistry. This dates all the way back to the dawn of the field in the modern period. So there’s a quote I have in the book from David Ricardo, he’s critiquing poverty relief in the early 1800s, in England, and he invokes the law of gravitation. He says, “these poverty relief efforts are going to produce more misery and suffering, and this is as certain as the law of gravitation.” Fast forward a century, early 20th century, or it might be late 19th, turn of 19th to 20th century, William Graham Sumner, very influential American intellectual, uses the same metaphor in somewhat different contexts. He’s talking about increasing corporate concentration of power. He says this is just as inevitable as gravitation, it’s sort of a law of the universe, right? So the progressive agenda around antitrust, and dismantling monopolies, this is as naive and misguided as literally opposing the law of gravitation. Fast forward another 100 years. Today, this tradition is alive and well. One example is, there was a graph in Science, I think, in 2014, showing wealth inequality. People who describe themselves as econo-physicists commented that the slope of this graph, which was an exponential curve, was an inevitable feature, sort of akin to other slopes that you can find throughout nature, whether it’s the distribution of sizes of ant colonies, population clusters of microbes, et cetera. All of these sorts of patterns in nature were mapped on to wealth inequality to, once again, justify the status quo and frame any opposition to it as similarly misguided to opposing a law of nature. So you can see how fighting about Econ 101, while it might seem academic, the stakes are quite high. This does shape and constrain political imagination. The goal of Chapter One was to raise these issues and also highlight the work of people who are trying to expand the way the discipline is taught.

Billy Saas:  The quote that you mentioned from Samuelson got my hackles raised a little bit because Samuelson features frequently in our spaces, and in my mind and the MMT world, specifically, because in a documentary about John Maynard Keynes in the 80s, basically, the effect of his statement was: we may not need to balance the budget talking about the federal government, like that’s not actually something that needs to happen. However, he’s saying this on tape in a documentary about Keynes: it might be important for people to believe that, right? Because if they didn’t think that there were restrictions and that we had to balance the budget then anarchistic chaos and inefficiency would prevail. That’s particularly insidious next to the quote that you have in your book, which is exactly “I don’t care who writes a nation’s laws or crafts its advanced treaties, if I can write its economics textbooks. So acknowledging in 1990 the effect of his work that has been published and revised since 1948, and then ultimately subject of some criticism, but dominant for a long time. In talking with economists who are currently practicing, whether they’re in Orthodox schools or heterodox, I think that there’s just generally a frustration with Samuelson, but I’m particularly offended by acknowledging the power of the narrative on one hand, and then on the other hand, saying: yeah, it’s necessary to have some of these fictions so that people don’t get too out of hand and start demanding nice things like social welfare benefits on a mass scale.

Nick Romeo:  Absolutely. Just to pile on to Samuelson here for a minute. Another comment that he made on national television, I think this was on 60 Minutes. He was discussing what used to be called Kelso Plans. And these were the predecessors of ESOP’s, Employee Stock Ownership Plans, which have been extraordinarily successful in sharing equity with working people across America. This is kind of our best answer to worker-owned cooperatives, like the Mondragon co-ops in Spain. So he’s on national TV, and the interviewer asks him, what are his thoughts on Kelso’s plans? He evokes Marie Antoinette, he says: “Oh, sure, it has a Marie Antoinette-ish ring to it. Let them have capital,” describing workers. So I just thought this was wildly irresponsible. He’s sort of suggesting that extending some level of worker ownership will result in the French Revolution. He also then made some comment about how it’s similar to lollipops growing on trees. So once again, this would contravene a fundamental natural law of the universe. And oh, if that argument doesn’t persuade you, it will also lead to enormous bloodshed. It’s a very irresponsible comment. Luckily, it’s been contravened by 50 years of success for ESOP’s. But you do wonder how much more widespread those could be if they were the default model for business ownership. Of course, workers have an equity stake in the businesses that they make successful. What if that was just the default as opposed to a sort of niche organizational structure? I think one can reasonably point a finger at people like Samuelson and say there’s really some blame there. They’re kind of abusing this position of expertise to advance very plutocratic agendas.

Billy Saas:  After having been accused, as you note in your book too, that in the 1940s when MIT was looking at it, they thought that it might be too communistic, too socially minded and not really.

Nick Romeo:  Isn’t that wild.

Scott Ferguson:  Meanwhile, he’s primarily responsible for shoving Keynes’s legacy back into a neoclassical IS-LM framework, right? There was another Keynesian textbook by an economist named Tarshis, that was much more faithful to what Keynes was up to, and pushing hard on neoclassical assumptions. Whereas Samuelson basically tamed the Keynesian revolution as he was perpetuating it. One of the things I really appreciated about your introductory framing was taking non-strictly economic knowledge seriously, whether that’s literature and short stories, or it’s comedy sketches from the UK. I don’t know if you want to talk to us a little bit about how some of those other ways of understanding political economy are important to you.

Nick Romeo:  Yeah, that’s a great question. I’m glad you raised that. I started the book with a short story by Leo Tolstoy, who I think is a wonderfully subtle thinker about economics, in his non-fiction, as well as his fiction. It’s interesting how even Anna Karenina, Levin is fascinated by political economy. He’s always reading the political economists that were gaining ascendance in 19th century Europe. He goes out and does farm work with his workers. These are sort of semi indentured people. He has this sort of anguish, this ethical torment about his own wealth. So Tolstoy was fascinated by economic themes and fiction and nonfiction. But I started the book with a short story called, How Much Land Does a Man Need? It’s this beautiful, concise moral fable that, I think, should be taken seriously as an investigation of a lot of economic themes. You can find in literary form antecedents for a lot of the stuff that behavioral economics folks think that they have discovered, whether that’s the sunk cost fallacy, the idea of like a hedonic treadmill. All of this is implicit in the narrative and much more beautifully rendered than in any behavioral econ study you can find. It’s a kind of pointed story because after seeking constant acquisition, the hero dies and ends up in six feet of earth in which he’s buried. So this is, in fact, the quantity of land that all of us need eventually, right? Death is this kind of final check on acquisitive frenzy. It’s also fascinating how it links up with other material in the book. I was talking with someone in upstate New York, who was the retiring CEO of an optics manufacturing firm. In his own way, he more or less paraphrased the title of the book. He had some options when he was retiring. He could have sold to a strategic buyer for a lot of money, probably hundreds of millions. Instead, he converted his business to an employee ownership trust, to secure it in perpetuity. So very pro social policies like not offshoring the company, sharing profits with workers. So in describing those choices, and why he did that, he more or less said, I’m just one person, how much money do I need? If I took the higher offer, I would spend my whole retirement just doing money management. More importantly, I would have betrayed these values that I spent decades building the business to enshrine those values. So I think it’s striking to hear a guy in upstate New York echoing Tolstoy. There’s something universal about this human intuition that it’s pretty profoundly misguided to always have that next acquisitive summit you must ascend.

Billy Saas:  It does play out, too, in pop culture and media. I keep thinking of Daniel Plainview in There Will Be Blood, right at the end. It’s just him and a little bowling alley. Oh, he’s finished, right. Yeah.

Nick Romeo:  Totally. 

Scott Ferguson:  Another major critique that runs throughout many of your chapters, that we very much share with you, is a rejection of the very notion of economic externalities. The idea that somehow the only proper sphere of economic analysis, behavior, meaning is the private competitive marketplace, and any effects that seem to exceed that very narrow sphere, is external to it, and then can be understood and variously priced or accounted for or discounted for, as a so called “externality”. And this, I think, is a pretty good transition to talking about your first really substantive chapter about alternative programs, which is about the theory but also the practice of what’s called “true price”. And I’m wondering if you could tell our audience a little bit about that.

Nick Romeo:  Yeah, absolutely. I think at a really simple level, the intuition is well captured by a bumper sticker that I often see walking around in Berkeley, California, which says something to the effect of: “when you throw something away, what do you mean by away?” So “externality”, this term that’s kind of central to economics, presupposes some border beyond which we pay less attention to some impact of how we produce or consume or transport economic goods. So “true pricing” is an initiative sometimes it’s assimilated to a broader set of accounting practices called True Cost Accounting. True price, specifically, is in Amsterdam. It originated in the work of a nonprofit there, although it has affinities to other movements around Europe and the world. If you think about the kind of econ 101, classic example of apples, you go into a grocery store. Currently, we have very limited visibility into all sorts of information about what we consume. To stick with the Apple example: maybe you know that it’s organic. This does convey actual information, there is a legally enforceable definition of that term. But even the organic label tells you nothing about its carbon footprint, where it came from. Maybe you do know that it’s local, and you can infer something about the carbon footprint. This tells you nothing still, your local organic apple, you have no information about the people who were involved in transporting and growing it. So workers conditions: did they have the right to unionize? were they paid adequately? No visibility into that. Okay, so maybe it’s a fair trade, local organic apple. It’s getting better, there are some wage floors. There’s some content to fair trade, it might not be as robust as we could hope. But you’re sort of getting the picture here that I’m painting of a very partial patchwork of labels, none of which really gives you insight into all the things one might care about. In fact, I think a lot of people do care about it. All of these labels are also subject to copycats, right? People who want to use the label, but evacuate all content and meaning. So the free rider problem, as it’s called in game theory. They want all the benefits, but none of the costs of using the label. So there are all kinds of self-certification schemes in industry. Terms like ‘sustainable’ and ‘natural’ are largely meaningless in a grocery store, and that’s challenging. True Price says, somewhat audaciously, look, what if we actually could capture all of the relevant externalities for a good. Quantify them. Reasonable people can disagree about how that works, or even some of the moral hazards that can be involved in doing that for certain kinds of infractions. Their view is that this is a second best option. In a lot of cases, it gives you some information. That’s better than the default option of no information. So if we can quantify all the relevant externalities, whether that’s something environmental or something involved in the treatment of humans throughout a supply chain, and communities, suddenly you have information that is relevant not only to consumers. You could have consumer facing applications where in a grocery store, for instance, you actually had one product with a True Price and another product with a different True Price. And you could compare the prices in this would instantly tell you the size of the externalities of the two products, that would do a few things, right? On the one hand, insofar as people are sensitive to price signals, they would consume less of the worst product, because its price would be higher. Simultaneously, this would motivate a company to change its production and transportation and supply chain issues that resulted in such a high True Price. So if they’re destroying soil quality, depleting aquifers, involved in all kinds of labor abuses, or human rights issues throughout the supply chain, all of that shows up in the true price, which can only be lowered by improving those issues. That’s only the consumer facing application of True Prices. It can and also is being used as a kind of internal auditing tool. So even if consumers are not paying that price, the European chocolate company, Tony’s Chocolonely, uses True Price analysis to try to improve their supply chains year after year. So it’s a kind of benchmarking whereby they’re trying to improve, and they now have ways to measure all of these different dimensions of the impacts of products. I think maybe the most ambitious but hopeful application of true pricing would be in policy and regulation. I mean, you could imagine, if you think about what is subsidized in the American food system, for instance. Imagine replacing that with a more rational and coherent set of taxes and subsidies that reflect the actual impacts, whether that’s showing up in medical costs, right? If people eat very unhealthy and addictive food, in some sense, the cost of that shows up in the medical system, maybe years or decades from now. Of course, there are also huge ecosystemic costs. One report I quote in the book from the Rockefeller Foundation that’s using True Price analysis essentially tripled the annual cost of the US food system. It’s actually costing about three times more to produce and consume food the way we do currently. The thing I think that is crucial to keep in mind with true pricing: there’s a temptation to think, well, this is just sort of making up numbers and then adding it to the cost of things. And how could we do that, especially with inflation running high? I think one key insight that helps me when I think about what a true price means is that the price is already going to be paid. It’s not that we’re inventing a price. That there is some sort of true price. What we’re talking about is who is going to pay them. So when we buy incredibly cheap goods that are produced by supply chains that on some level involve a lot of human suffering and misery and also environmental degradation, that cheapness is completely illusory. It’s not that by not paying it, we’re making the prices go away. We’re just making someone else pay those prices, often someone in a much more vulnerable position, maybe somewhere else in the world, maybe in our own country. There’s been a lot of terrifying reporting in the last year about the resurgence of child labor and American factories. Maybe they are people in future generations, maybe they are non-humans, maybe they are animals and ecosystems, but there is this price, we’re just not paying it. So true pricing kind of imports, I think, very reasonable moral and ethical considerations back into the economic sphere and says, Well, maybe we, broadly conceived, should be paying these prices. Not necessarily consumers, I mean, companies could pay them, governments could pay them, consumers could help. What seems least defensible, is what we’re currently doing. And that’s kind of ignoring them and having vulnerable workers and the natural world bear the brunt of our current consumption and production practices.

Scott Ferguson:  If I understand you correctly, the importance is not coming up with exact pricing, as if now we’re getting the number right. If anything, it seems more about re-injecting or newly disclosing the political rhetorical, qualitative, ethical and moral constructs that hide behind seemingly natural prices. In that way, it seems to me like this really speaks to or fits within a much longer tradition of thinking about what was called, especially in the Middle Ages, Just Price Theory, right. And I’m thinking about the writings of Thomas Aquinas and others who were not just talking about what is a fair contract between two people or two firms or something like that. But how does the whole system get organized in order to create a more just economic system?

Nick Romeo:  Yeah, absolutely. I mean, that’s like a fascinating tradition, the Just Price theorizing from Aquinas onward. But no, I think that’s right. There’s something very interesting, psychologically, that happens when you use quantification as a tool. There is this illusion of utter precision, where there’s a sense that, okay, we’ve got this exact price. Here’s what it’s worth, to, let’s say, degrade the aquifer beneath the land that grows the grain that feeds the cow, etc, etc. It is a useful tool, but I think it’s important to see it as a heuristic, right? It’s a first approximation, it is based on assumptions. And yet, it’s not invented, right? You can look at studies that say, well, here’s how long it would take to restore soil quality. Even with the treatment of workers, here’s what a reasonable living wage would be, so you’re under paying workers by this amount. That figure is not arbitrary. But it is debatable, right. It’s not a finding of natural science. It’s a construct that is still very useful. I mean, I think a lot of the subtler economic thinkers are completely on board with that. But there is often this slippage where just by virtue of quantification, people sometimes have the sense that we’ve given a completely exacting and exhaustive account of value. So I agree with how you put it, basically. Yeah.

Billy Saas:  It seems too that the True Price system, to a certain extent, in the Amsterdam example, and in your book it exists in that country. It exists more generally, and I think this is where the MMT framework can come in handy, in places like the United States where we have sin taxes in states. And we have tax schedules that are organized and arranged federally where, in a very real way, the state is determining the price of doing certain activities. It is harnessing its ability in the case of the federal government to create and regulate the money system. So I’m thinking about disincentivizing it by making it prohibitively expensive, for example, to buy cigarettes. To do things that will, and there are some calculations that are done to that effect. I guess I’d be interested in exploring the differences between what’s exciting about the True Price system and what already exists in terms of a tax system, that is, primarily, it seems about incentivizing certain labor and disincentivizing labor and consumption in other directions.

Nick Romeo:  Yeah, that’s a really interesting point. I think I do see where you’re going with that. I mean, one thought is the True Price, in part, is a kind of consciousness raising tool, right? So one could probably make the same case about taxes, although I don’t think they’re quite as ubiquitous as prices, especially in a consumer society. You forget about them a lot of the time, and then you grumble once a year and deal with them or something. But maybe with the exception of sales taxes, sales taxes might be an exception there. To take cigarettes, your example, it’s interesting how it can apply to so many things. Hamburgers: people have done these really striking calculations about if we paid the real cost of a hamburger with a more expansive scope, boundary, defining those costs in space and time on humans and nonhumans, very few people would eat a lot of $120 Hamburgers, right? This would just change consumer behavior. But for people who were still willing to do that sort of behavior at an exorbitantly high price, you would also then generate some surplus, some revenue that could be used to remediate those harms in theory. So I don’t know if that answers your question. But that’s a provocative one.

Billy Saas:  It does get me thinking about hamburger parties in the Hamptons, and I liked that thought. It’s kind of funny to me.

Scott Ferguson:  Maybe we should move on to the next chapter in which you take on the construction of the very idea of a living wage. This is a phrase that gets thrown out a lot. I think I often use it, especially when I’m trying to argue for and explain what a federal job guarantee or a local job guarantee might be, and what kind of social benefits it will provide. I’ll say, it provides a living wage, right. But you’ve looked into how that notion is variously constructed, and some of the problems and possibilities with it.

Nick Romeo:  Yeah, you know, I found this chapter really interesting to report and research because I think, like you, I had this view that living wages are really pretty good. They let people enjoy a reasonable and decent kind of middle class life. And my sense of what that means would include things like going out to a meal, now and then in a restaurant, saving a bit for retirement, being able to buy your kids a gift, saving a bit for a rainy day fund, cars break down, phones get dropped, stuff comes up in life. All of this intuitively seems like part of living. So if we have the term living wage, shouldn’t it enable this? So in that chapter, I look at one of the more influential living wage calculators, which is run by an economist at MIT, it’s just the MIT living wage calculator. So this is used by all sorts of businesses in wage setting, as well as by nonprofits in shaping policy guidelines. So it’s a very influential tool. Yet, the actual content of life that this tool enables it’s very meager, and it’s much less generous than the idea of a living wage even 100 years ago, as articulated by people like Teddy Roosevelt, the Labour leader Samuel Gompers, the Catholic priest John Ryan, who coined the phrase ‘living wage’ in a book. They all had a much more capacious sense of what living was that includes some of those elements I mentioned, like saving for retirement, for a rainy day, some vacation or leisure time. All of this seems like it should be part of living. So when you have a highly influential tool that receives some level of corporate support for its research, and then that same research is enabling corporations to pay very meager wages, alarm bells pretty naturally go off. The chapter is kind of trying to argue for an expansion of the concept, but we’re in a tricky terminological corner, because the living wage already exists in the public imagination and its true terms are largely defined. So for people who want to expand it, the options can feel cumbersome. You can say, we pay a “real” living wage or a “true” living wage. In the UK, this gets a little more absurd because they call what we call a minimum wage the living wage. So then their critics want the true living wage, but then they themselves have a pretty constrained definition. So now we’re several levels in and you have to have: “no the real true living wage” … At some point, you kind of throw your hands up and say we need a new term. Yet there’s something really important that that term captures, which is that there’s a moral dimension to wage setting. It’s not simply where supply and demand meet and markets clear, where the good in question is labored. No, there’s a kind of moral choice that employers are making when they’re when they’re wage setting.

Billy Saas:  Thinking about these terms back to the true price, but incorporating it here, the definition of life and living, the definition of true. These are the province of philosophers, and rhetoricians, and humanities scholars broadly, right? So it seems like your book makes a compelling argument that we need to bring philosophy back into the center of economic discussions. As we’ve been talking about these things, I completely agree. It occurs to me that when it comes to these moral questions the economists as presently trained are some of the least equipped to have them. To a certain extent an economist is someone who can get away with making broad claims without considering the moral and ethical components of those claims and impacts of those claims. They just sort of don’t have to. It’s assumed that they will not. So of these projects, you document several of them, it seems economists are maybe not the best to have these conversations, although there are exceptions, of course. Maybe Silicon Valley bros are not the best at determining how labor should be distributed and how people should be paid. This was, I think, one of the more exciting, in that it’s new, and I wasn’t aware of it, and I could see its implementation. Scott and I were talking about it before jumping on with you, it seems incredibly promising. Could you talk to us about the public management of the gig economy as it’s being piloted in a town in California?

Nick Romeo:  Yeah, absolutely. I also find this a really fascinating case study. I think it’s maybe a little bit more outside the Overton window. But that’s kind of precisely why it’s interesting. Living wages are on people’s radar, even if the term has been corrupted and co-opted. It’s sort of in the imagination already. But the idea that gig work should exist is a public manifestation, that there should basically be a public option for people who do irregular work. Now, that could be irregular work, as the gig companies are currently structured. So delivering food, driving, those kinds of part time jobs, but it could also be all kinds of other irregular work, whether that’s engineering or architectural, or legal. There’s not something limiting it to one set of occupations. The deep insight, I think, in this chapter is that the current benefits of gig work are separable from its private sector manifestation. So you can retain some of those benefits. In fact, you can increase them. Things like flexibility, an attractive range of types of work, you can retain those benefits while eliminating some of the very well documented downsides. So for instance, if you deliver or drive for some of the dominant gig work companies today, you may lose 30 to 50% of every transaction in fees that are supporting venture capitalists and distant shareholders. That’s a huge part of the economic transaction that’s flowing away from the workers. A public option could dramatically reduce that extractive component. It might be 2%-5% per transaction, enough to maintain overhead and infrastructure for the platform, but there’s no commitment to enrich shareholders. That’s not part of the structure. It operates in the public interest, by design. If you had a public option for good work, you would have much more money left on the table for those workers. This could also show up in more affordable prices for consumers, right? Again, there would be a kind of ethical calculus that would have to balance those competing demands. But increasing the size of the pie is one very attractive feature. Another thing that I think is striking here is that there are good reasons to aggregate a lot of supply and demand for work in one place. Network effects are real. Convenience goes up for both job seekers, and for the consumers of that work when a lot of people are in one place. So by siloing all of this work across dozens of competing private sector platforms, where we’re losing efficiency, interestingly. The private sector is being lauded every day in the media as this sort of generator of efficiency and ruthless productivity. In fact, it’s highly inefficient, a public option could be much more efficient in harnessing those network effects. A final thing I’ll say about that chapter is just that we’re already familiar with this model, right? Public infrastructure is cherished even today, in a kind of bipartisan sense. People liked the Post Office, right? People liked functioning roads, people like safe water. So road systems, water networks, expanding that same principle to labor markets, such that workers had safe, attractive options for jobs with benefits that could be portable, like you could enforce labor law much more readily. You could have benefits that travel with workers, their legal classification as employees, all of this would be much easier in a public sector option. A final interesting wrinkle, and then I’ll pause. But a final interesting wrinkle with this is, there’s a certain amount of latitude in implementation. There are trials happening at municipal levels in multiple cities around America. There’s also interest from larger, regional governments in multiple countries. One other wrinkle that is kind of interesting is that even if you are highly committed to the somewhat tendentious view that private markets are inherently more efficient, and you think, okay, a public option would just be mired in bureaucracy and red tape and it would function like the DMV, it would be no fun, right? No one would want to go use it. Even if you have that view, that’s actually not fatal to this model. And the reason for that is that you could have a sort of concession, whereby, in the same way that a national lottery or a National Park will have private operators functioning within a broadly public program. The operation of the platform per se, you could have a competitive bid and let a company operate it. And then so whatever sorts of benefits that are, in fact, unique to private markets, you can retain those right? If the platform is just going to be much more intuitive and well designed, the software will never glitch if a private company runs it. Okay, let’s assume that that is the case: we can still have a public option, you just have a concession whereby, you know, for a term of five years through a competitive bid, a private operator manages the platform. But the statutory function is still in the public interest, right? Profits are kept for that private operator. And the goal is the provision of work in a public utility model.

Scott Ferguson:  I’m curious if any of the people you talk to or any of your research took you to the history of workforce boards in the United States? I have an older friend in the Tampa Bay area who, for Hillsborough County, worked in public job training and placement for decades and decades, from the Great Society to the end of welfare as we know it. He saw all those changes, and they were able to do all kinds of interesting, creative activist training and placement work and they would have libraries built and then they would have the people they were working with staff those libraries once they were built. Building boardwalks along waterways and creating jobs and training people and placing people in public employment. According to his telling, I’m not some, studied historian of this history, but I know something about it. According to him, it’s the Clinton administration in the 90s that changed the legal structure of workforce boards, which basically turned the requirements for representation from public majority to private majority. So the more active, public governmental mediation of job training, and job placement that used to go on has been more and more and more privatized, and serving private interests. It seems like this model of a public option for a digital gig economy would be a way to push back against the legacy of Clintonism.

Nick Romeo:  Yeah, absolutely. I think workforce boards are probably one of the more plausible candidates for implementing this model. I know, in fact, that they are already in conversation around the country with Wingham Rowan, who is a sort of British policy entrepreneur who helped introduce this idea to the American political and economic space, he is very closely integrated to workforce boards. It makes sense intuitively, you’re already as a Workforce Board convening a lot of private sector employers getting a sense of your local labor market. So if there is a stadium in town that hires a lot of people seasonally, or maybe there is a dock where a lot of cargo is getting unloaded but they’re hiring workers sporadically. They’re already looking for reliable workers, and instead of letting all of that work go through private sector staffing agencies, which again, take very large, extractive cuts per transaction. Aggregating that through a public sector option, I think it can push back on privatization, which I don’t know the Clinton history, but I think that sounds right, broadly. Another thought is just that public entities, whether this is City Hall, public schools, parks, and open space departments, are already large employers in many states and cities around the country. There’s a lot of work that they are hiring, much of it is part time and flexible. So there’s basically a lot of low hanging fruit. I think workforce boards are natural conveners to sort of match supply and demand within a more prosocial public option framework.

Scott Ferguson:  Great, this obviously leads us to what led us to you, which is the job guarantee or jobs guarantee. The phrase is interchangeable. So you became interested in this pilot program that’s in this small town in Austria. Our listeners are pretty familiar with the job guarantee, because that plays a huge role in Modern Monetary Theory, Pavlina Tcherneva, who is an MMT Economist you cite at length in your book, in your chapter about the job guarantee.

Nick Romeo:  Yes.

Scott Ferguson:  If we just presume that our audience probably knows something about the job guarantee, what was it like experientially as a reporter to go check out what they’re doing in Austria?

Nick Romeo:  It was fascinating. This town, it’s maybe 45 minutes outside of Vienna. It’s got a really interesting history where, in the 1930s, it was decided this classic sociological study on the effects of unemployment. It was a one factory town, factory shuts down in the 1930s. Some sociologists show up from the University of Vienna, and in a very kind of journalistic, anthropological way, they just ask people questions, they spend time with them, they talk to them about how their lives are going. The results are really quite sad, but very interesting. people’s mental health kind of falls apart without work. A lot of the social fabric of the town frays. People have this sort of sense of structureless-ness to the day, they don’t really know what to do. There are quotes from original people in the study where they say things to the effect of: I just feel kind of stuck between the four walls of my room. I don’t know what to do all day. So fast forward to the present where the job guarantee is a kind of reversal of the original condition. The first sociologists are studying the effects of unemployment. Today, what happens with guaranteed employment? How does this affect people? Not just economically, but psychologically, socially as well. Chatting with folks, it was almost uncanny how some of the comments from the original study showed up in different forms. I talked to one guy who said, I have breakfast, and then it’s just like, I don’t know what to do all day. He was describing being unemployed before he joined the job guarantee. So this sense of like, looming expanses of time that are very hard to fill. There are both economists and sociologists involved in studying the current job guarantee. The plural of anecdote is not data, but they do have data. I was there getting anecdotes, and you put those two things together, it’s a pretty compelling picture of how meaningful work is and that’s an important caveat, people in the job guarantee are co-designing the work they do, they’re not just forced into any job. But meaningful work has these tremendous benefits for time structure, self esteem, and social relationships. It was a huge range of folks that were participating in the job guarantee, also. Just being there and talking with dozens of them and pretty quickly dispelled any stereotype of the typical unemployed person. It was everything from people with advanced degrees to people who hadn’t finished high school. A huge range of ethnic backgrounds, range of ages. One thing that was kind of interesting, this is a cumbersome phrase, I’m not sure I love it. But there was this sort of internalized neoliberalism in a lot of their comments where they felt like unemployed people are still sort of just like, “bad and lazy”, and “even though I’m in this job guarantee, and I’m eligible for it, because I was unemployed, I’m not like those people. I’m the exception.” You wonder sometimes just talking to folks, that feels like a pretty devastatingly harsh view that is pretty deeply internalized in a lot of people’s comments. That’s another thing that was a bit of a through line in remarks was the sense that you are a bit of a failure if you haven’t found a job, even though they sort of recognize that the private market is failing utterly. Not only is it not producing enough jobs, but it’s not satisfying a lot of basic needs. A lot of work that needs to be done, whether that’s care work, green transition work. I do lean heavily on Pavlina. She has a wonderful book on The Case for a Job Guarantee, and what it would look like at a federal level, which was really influential to how I approached that town in Austria. I think she makes very effective arguments for how it could scale and why it’s a compelling proposal. But the journalistic work was just fascinating. It’s really powerful to hear folks talk about the non-financial benefits of work.

Billy Saas:  In the introduction, you preview the book by talking about a bunch of really promising developments, policies that are being piloted and tried out and all these cities across the world. But you also say that some are not considered or discussed in your book. In certain cases, the omission of discussion of those policies or initiatives reflects a critical assessment. I couldn’t help but notice that universal basic income is not featured, although there are pilot programs for UBI across the world. I’ll just qualify and say that we’re not big UBI folks. We’re jobs guarantee folks. So I wonder if UBI might be one of those that you have a critical assessment in your back pocket and ready to talk about or not, or if there are others that you considered, but didn’t make it into the book?

Nick Romeo:  Yeah, you know, I think the big one is crypto. I don’t see that as a plausible or even legitimate intervention that can improve economic outcomes from people. It seems just like a Ponzi scheme, and the evidence for that accumulates almost weekly with new legal indictments of various companies around the world. So the other things that don’t make it into the book, I’m very sympathetic to various policies. Tax policy, for instance, I would love to have done a chapter and did get some way into reporting for a chapter on international tax evasion, tax fraud. There is not any sort of plausible role for tax evasion in a just economy. So the exclusion of that from the book was much more a matter of just practicality than principle. I would have loved to have had the bandwidth and the time to really report that out thoroughly. You won’t be surprised to hear that these are really kind of intricate, complicated cases. If you’re going to do justice to tax evasion that spans many jurisdictions and continents, and has very sophisticated accounting to conceal any wrongdoing, that would almost be a book itself. So I wasn’t able to do that. I would definitely like to explore that more. The universal basic income, I also am more sympathetic to Job Guarantees than I am to UBI, and there are a few reasons for that. That being said, I’m certainly not opposed to all of the interesting experiments. It does seem to have lots of traction, there’s a lot of good research on it. People don’t spend the money on video games or alcohol. It’s very helpful as a kind of buffer. One thing I find a little more compelling about job guarantees is just what we were describing, some of the psychological benefits that people can derive from meaningful work. The objection, often, to that comment I just made is that all of those benefits reflect a previous socialization in which we’re taught to think that work should be central to our identities, and this is the kind of capitalist socialization that we should resist. I don’t know, I mean, I don’t have a strong view on that. I can understand that critique. But I also feel like it could very easily be overstated, and that there probably is something pretty deep in human nature that responds to doing meaningful work with other humans. I guess, again, the UBI folks would try to take a generous view of what their response would be, would probably say: Well, sure, people will still do that. They’ll mount musical productions, and they’ll stage plays. Maybe they’ll even do all kinds of things that people in jobs currently do, but it won’t be within an employment framework and that’ll be better. Sure, that could be the case. The other thing I find a little more compelling about a job guarantee, though, is just that we do have so much work that has to be done, right? I mean, I’m thinking of two things in particular: care work and infrastructure slash green transition. We don’t care well for young people, or old people, or sick people in America. That’s like a huge need. When you combine that, there are a lot of people who are a latent workforce who are not working, because private sector options are atrocious, and don’t work for them. Combined care work with all of the green transition and infrastructure work that we desperately need, I see job guarantees as a tool for meeting that in a way that UBI might not be able to.

Scott Ferguson:  Yeah, and for the record, I think we are all for robust welfare benefits. We’re all for not letting people starve, and we’re all for public spending that allows for self actualization. But I think we concur with your critical comments about UBI and would just follow up and say that it’s a largely laissez faire kind of libertarian approach to problems that need, as your book points out over and over again, that needs some serious provisioning. Like some serious design and structures and possibilities, rather than just leaving people with some minimal amount of funds to experiment a little bit on their own. If there aren’t social structures to experiment within, then where are you going to do that experiment?

Nick Romeo:  Absolutely. Yeah. I think we’re on the same page there.

Scott Ferguson:  Just had to add an idea. So a job guarantee, right. So I’m thinking about an ideal world where everybody’s happy, including the UBI advocates: Jobs Guarantee and then also a publicly administered gig platform where one of the gigs is thinking about all the things you would do with your UBI. So just getting together and brainstorming…I don’t know.

Nick Romeo:  I actually think that a publicly administered option for irregular work would be a very natural mechanism for implementing a job guarantee?  I mean, that could be one among many other options on that platform. Another thing that we haven’t touched on, but I’m sure you’re aware of with job guarantees is that they exert this really positive pressure on private sector employers. So depending on your moral framework, this is good or bad, right? I mean, a lot of people would say, this is horrible, private sector folks will have to pay more, they’ll have to improve the quality of jobs, precisely because people have a compelling outside option. They know they can go find a nice, well paid and enjoyable and meaningful job through the public sector. So why would I work at a horrific private sector employee that changes my hours week to week, where I have no voice and no agency and a very low wage? Well, if those people have an outside option? Yes, they will take until private sector employers improve conditions and wages. So that upward pressure, I think, is another very compelling feature of a federal job guarantee. In some sense, this might be a faster route to a genuine living wage than living wage laws. I’m not sure I would actually defend that statement too hard. But it’s this sort of other way to get to that same goal. I think a genuine living wage legislation would be wonderful. But if we can’t get that we could also have a job guarantee that sort of functionally does the same thing.

Billy Saas:  Yeah.

Scott Ferguson:  I mean, that is an argument that we stand behind, and it’s very much part of MMT thinking. I think Pavlina would stand by it as well, which is that the way it’s often framed is that even with minimum wage laws, as long as there is structural unemployment, that the true minimum wage in a country, an economy, and the world, is $0.

Nick Romeo:  Yes.

Scott Ferguson:  It’s only through a public option and a wage and benefits floor for the entire economy that you can get to anything resembling a minimum wage, let alone a living wage.

Nick Romeo:  Absolutely, yeah.

Billy Saas:  Wonder if the gig platform and the publicly administered platform for irregular labor would also be a kind of backdoor to implementing a jobs guarantee. So right, anybody who needs a job can get one through the irregular labor, locally administered job board that just expands and it can be framed as a municipal innovation, right? You could get some seed money from some, maybe not just any venture capitalist, but a socially minded one. Have in its charter that it’s supposed to be. I’m always trying to think about ways to get it through the back door, because I don’t think the jobs guarantee, and maybe this is my last question for you about this is surely you’ve thought about the political prospects of these various initiatives, and you’re sensitive to their contexts and to what kind of conditions might need to be in place for these different things to flourish or even be considered at the local level. There needs to be certain progressive values or other politics present in order for some of these things to happen. Where do you stand in terms of your relative level of optimism and pessimism on a scale for the wider spread implementation? Do you see promising developments? Maybe this is the better way to go? Which trajectories do you find most promising of the policies and plans that you outlined in the book?

Nick Romeo:  With the caveat that it’s hard to read the crystal ball accurately, I do have some thoughts on that. And I am pretty optimistic in an American context that the municipal level could function as the proof of concept for the irregular public sector option. I love the thought of this functioning as a backdoor for a job guarantee as well. And I think actually in some of the cities that are currently thinking about it, that may be perhaps not explicitly articulated as a goal but it may be a kind of implicit strategy that exists to give people work. By aggregating a lot of demand for labor, both public sector jobs, but also private sector ones, we want to have a sufficient supply of demand for labor, such that anyone interested in finding a job within the city can do so. I think in an American context, that is going to be the route by which it scales. I’d be a little surprised if it started federally, and then flourished locally. I think if you have proof of concept at city, or maybe state levels, this could be compelling. Now, it would be wonderful to have an entire government take this on and that seems more possible around the world. You could think maybe about a New Zealand, maybe an Ireland, depending on what happens with elections. You can imagine certain governments being relatively open to some version of this. I’m sure you’re probably more familiar than me with the program in India as well, which is enormous in its scale, but somewhat limited in maybe its scope and the access to work that it provides for everyone. But I guess I am sort of optimistic. If you think back, even six or seven years, a lot of the major industrial policy, I’ll call it, that Biden has done would have seemed pretty inconceivable during the first Trump administration. You wouldn’t have thought that the CHIPS Act or the IRA would happen. That would have seemed kind of wild. So in five or six years, a lot of stuff that seems a little far fetched today could be quite plausible. You just said the first Trump administration. What did you mean by? Oh, God you’re right. I’m not feeling optimistic. Maybe we should strike that from the record. Of course, that’s a terrifying thought. But it’s not looking good.

Billy Saas:  It’s not looking good. In part because a lot of this has to do with domestic variously defined national or intra-state intra-governmental policy. I wonder if the international versions of these programs, or applications of this kind of thinking, have you come across more internationalist versions of the job guarantee or or any of these other programs that don’t seem to be so limited? Because I think one of the, or a shortcoming potentially of the job guarantee, as currently conceived, is that it does seem to be bounded. Not necessarily, not essentially. But in terms of the imagination, and the way that we talk about it, it tends to be, you said in the American context. I’m not expecting you to have the answer or even an answer, but more to highlight and open up discussion of international contexts and its foreign policy, in addition to domestic policy when it comes to these questions of like economic justice, and employment for all.

Nick Romeo:  Yeah, that’s a very interesting question that I don’t have a great answer for. I’m not aware of any international job guarantee, or even really how that would function. I mean, the one thing that I will say just from the book is that one of the models I focus on is the Mondragon cooperatives in the Basque Country in northern Spain, and they have a lot of incredible features. Yet one of the things that are consistently criticized for is that they rely on cheap labor. So not within Spain, but in places like China and Mexico. A lot of the precursor components for the industrial manufacturing that happens in Spain, a lot of this is coming from very low wage contexts where people are not unionized, they’re not paid particularly well. There are not great labor conditions. There has been some effort by Mondragon to try to extend a worker-owned cooperative model into these international contexts so that their entire supply chain would reflect the same values that they’re so, I think, rightly proud of at Mondragon in Spain. They haven’t had a lot of success, and people are kind of split on why that’s the case. If you listen to Mondragon, they’ll say, look at the local laws, labor laws, tax laws, even the ability to have a legal structure as a cooperative, this just doesn’t exist in these contexts. We can’t make everything in Spain, we have to have the competitive advantage that derives from these supply chains that originate in places like Mexico and China, or else we’ll literally go bankrupt. That’s the Mondragon story, for what it’s worth. On the other hand, there are critics, including people within Mondragon, who say we’ve got to be able to figure this out. It’s possible here, it may be harder elsewhere. There are some interesting stories about even cultural resistance among workers in Mexico, for instance, who have not heard of a worker owned co-op and are very suspicious of it, and are not particularly interested when people come and try to get them excited about transforming their company into that model. There’s a lot of pushback. That being said, Noam Chomsky is famous for criticizing Mondragon on these grounds. But even people within Mondriaan are pretty sensitive to this sort of double standard and the way workers are treated. I guess it just seems like a tricky issue that has not really been solved effectively. I’d be curious if you guys have thoughts on how to extend either job guarantee or just better wages and benefits in an international context. That seems like a tough one. The only other thought I have on that is true pricing. Right? Because that is a mechanism for saying exactly how much we are under paying people throughout a supply chain. If the European Union does pass some of this supply chain due diligence legislation, then if companies are shown to have human rights abuses in their supply chain, they’ll be sued for a lot of money. It doesn’t feel like a great solution, but it is a sort of tool, right? I mean, this could motivate improvement in working conditions along, really, the whole length of supply chains that span continents. But what do you guys think?

Billy Saas:  Just to clarify what got me on this trajectory was considering the prospects of a second Trump administration in light of the fact that currently there’s a lot of discourse around how good the economy is, and how people are ignoring that Biden has gotten us through and that his policies work. Throwing their hands up at his historically low popularity levels, while also not really having discussion about the foreign policy of the United States, and the kind of apparent and striking, stark incompatibility of a robust domestic program of public provisioning, at the same time, as one is provisioning, foreign militaries and the support of them as they conduct occupations. It seems like there’s moral inconsistency there that needs to be parsed and grappled with. I feel like it’s too easy to say, well, these are separate issues, and that we can have this conversation without having that conversation. But that is increasingly implausible, also.

Scott Ferguson:  Even some of the earlier, big Biden legislation was often packaged as good and as interesting and as neoliberal-jamming as they were. And I support them for those reasons. They were nevertheless packaged as anti-China. This zero-sum game with China and we got to put down China or we got to get ahead of China. So, yeah, there’s all kinds of dimensions to this.

Billy Saas:  I don’t think we have any answers.

Scott Ferguson:  We have no answers, just problems.

Nick Romeo:  I think it’s an important question. I don’t know how far we should go down this road, but it reminds me a bit of the green growth versus degrowth debates where the folks who lean really hard on green growth often buttress their arguments for a decoupling between economic growth and environmental impact. Those arguments are really effective to the extent that they have a very narrow scope. They don’t count emissions along the entire length of supply chains. So what looks like decoupling, if you kind of zoom out and expand the scope, which of course for ecosystems and climate is really the only reasonable approach, those arguments become much less persuasive very quickly. In a global context, we’re not doing well, environmentally. I agree that sort of partitioning that off from the economic success story is misguided. Yeah.

Scott Ferguson:  Well I don’t want to let you go without asking you to talk about one of your later chapters in which you take on these legal forms that I admit I knew nothing about. But I find them totally fascinating. It’s kind of expanding your exploration of alternative models of ownership that you discuss in the Mondragon chapter. That’s what this legal instrument called Perpetual Purpose Trusts. Do I have that right?

Nick Romeo:  Yes. That’s right.

Scott Ferguson:  So what are they? And what do they do? And why are they important?

Nick Romeo:  Yeah, so they’re sometimes also called employee ownership trust, but whatever they’re called, they are legal documents, and they are a new way of organizing ownership of companies. To back up a little bit, if you think about someone who is on the point of selling their company, maybe a retiring baby boomer, of which there is no shortage in America. There’s a lot of wealth that will be transitioning in the next decade, and it’s happening already. One thing those folks can do is simply sell to a strategic buyer or to private equity. So a competitor within their economic sector, or a bigger private equity firm, typically. Now, if you do that, it’s very likely that your business will cease to exist. The strategy of rolling up companies within a sector, this happened famously with veterinary practices in private equity. But it’s actually a pretty pervasive strategy. So jobs go away, stuff gets consolidated. Return on Investment over a pretty short term time horizon is prioritized. What’s an alternative model? Well, this is where the legal instrument of a trust becomes important because you can kind of guarantee through the trust that the business will not be sold to private equity. You can say this business will remain owned by its workers, or it will remain owned by an advisory board. But you can stipulate within the trust not only a permanent ownership structure, but also a permanent set of goals that typically do not include profit maximization. So some of the folks I’ve profiled in the book are using this to enshrine very prosocial goals: things like profit sharing with employees, things like donating a percentage of profits to an environmental non-profit, even structural things like never letting the highest to the lowest paid worker ratio exceed 10:1. Another example is prioritizing hiring people who are formerly homeless or incarcerated. There’s a bakery in Oakland, right next door to where I live that wanted to enshrine that goal, but they also needed financing. They needed money from investors. The concern was, if we take money without any kind of protection, the goal of the business is kind of expensive. It’s hard to work with folks who are formerly homeless. This costs money. If our investors want their return, and they see an opportunity to cut costs, we could lose the entire mission of the business. The trust is a way around these kinds of dilemmas. It’s a way of permanently enshrining more prosocial motivations into the DNA of the ownership of a company.

Billy Saas:  We spoke, I guess a couple years ago, with Kim Stanley Robinson about his book, the Ministry For The Future, which as I was reading your book, found a lot of parallel in terms of object. It seems like if we are to right the ship, in whatever way you choose, but especially with respect to environmental catastrophe, we need to fundamentally rethink our relationship to the economy and ask questions about what it is. So there’s optimism, I think I asked earlier about pessimism and optimism. I share I think both with you, I detect both in your answers. It depends contextually. But in terms of Kim Stanley Robinson’s work in that book, are you familiar with it?

Nick Romeo:  I am. Yeah, I’ve read that novel.

Billy Saas:  So that novel. You know, it’s about a job guarantee. He talks about Mondragon. He talks about all of these different initiatives, and it’s not one thing, it’s a basket to use a favorite metaphor for economists. It’s a basket of things.  They are all necessary in the end. One of the things that has stuck with me about and I think is relevant in our current context where we have Elon Musk owning X, formally Twitter, and the ownership of our social media platforms are so much of the information. Where we will share about this episode of this podcast and effectively help to perpetuate his ownership and wealth. That at the center of KSR’s work is an intervention into public ownership of media. And the labor that is done collectively by people who participate in it. I guess, I wonder if you have any thoughts in that direction, about the place of not just social media, but media generally, media work as a media — I don’t know if you consider yourself a media worker, as a writer who publishes in primarily online spaces now. Yes, maybe ask you by way of conclusion to sort of reflect on your position in this broader media landscape and help us to, to understand our own.

Nick Romeo:  Yeah.

Scott Ferguson:  Easy question. A little lob.

Billy Saas:  Softball.

Nick Romeo:  That’s such a great question. I’m sure we could have a whole other conversation just on that topic, much of which would need to be off the record. In part, because I’m very critical of the way the mainstream media covers economics. A lot of it is just so disappointing. It’s so limited in scope and imagination. There’s a kind of hagiography of entrepreneurs as visionaries, which is often just profoundly misguided and un-empirical. There’s this cheerleading for the Fed and markets, and the casual acceptance of very outmoded models, whether that’s through labor markets, or how inflation works, how unemployment works. I’m very critical of both right and left wing media coverage of economics. So I like your suggestion, which I’m sure Kim Stan would agree that ownership of media itself is a pretty decisive intervention. It’s not a coincidence that the current UK government is trying to kill the BBC. NPR loses public funding, it seems by the year. The one thing that gives me a little hope for the media is the nonprofit model. Places like ProPublica, but really quite a few other very, very impressive newsrooms are grant funded. You’re still in some sense relying on the goodwill of foundations, and very wealthy people, some of whom have very questionable political commitments. It’s not a perfect system, but I think any kind of protection where you have a dedicated endowment, and then you can do your own research and reporting that’s helpful. Even The New York Times takes a lot of money from the fossil fuel industry. They have this outfit called T Brand Studios, where they write ads for fossil fuel companies using The New York Times employees. So they’ll have their kind of climate coverage, and then right next door, they’re making money from T Brand Studios. The Guardian, in 2019, stopped taking money from fossil fuel companies, which is encouraging and a generation ago that same debate played out with taking out money from the tobacco industry. the majors in cigarettes. So there’s some hope. More and more people in the media are realizing that how it’s funded really has huge implications for what is covered and how it’s covered. I think the disappointment I have with mainstream coverage and economics is not unique to me. I think a lot of thoughtful people feel this kind of sense of claustrophobia when they read the coverage. So maybe they just don’t read the coverage. But that’s a problem, too. To zoom out a little bit, Paul Samuelson is not the only person sculpting cultural common sense, however influential his econ textbook is, it’s also the journalists who study that textbook and then go to write for Bloomberg or the Times, or NPR. A lot of ostensibly liberal publications are absolutely committed to very un-empirical and dogmatic economic positions that are not taken seriously by a lot of economists who would like to change how the field is taught. Maybe that brings us full circle to teaching economics, letting that shape journalism, changing the ownership and funding structure of journalism: all of these interventions are really crucial to improving what the philosopher Michael Polanyi talks about The Tacit Dimension, which is this kind of reservoir of assumptions and common sense. Brother of the famous Viennese economic historian Karl Polanyi. Very interesting family.

Billy Saas:  That was wonderful.

Nick Romeo:  Great. Great. 

Billy Saas:  Nick Romeo. Thank you so much for joining us on Money on the Left. We really enjoyed it.Nick Romeo:  Thanks to you both. It was a pleasure.

* Thanks to the Money on the Left production teamWilliam Saas (audio editor), Mike Lewis (transcription), & Robert Rusch (graphic art)

How can novels help us think about money … and maybe even save the planet? (Guest Lecture)  

Can novels and, by extension, other works of art help us to think about money and trust in new ways? Could embracing alternative perspectives on trust and money help us to avoid climate catastrophe? Rob Hawkes shares a new version of a talk previously presented at the Middlesbrough Institute of Modern Art as part of the One Fifteen at MIMA series of public talks. Highlighting the financial barriers often assumed to stand in the way of local, national, and global efforts to advance ecological and social justice, Rob situates the trust inherent in the act of money creation as much closer than we usually think to the trust fostered and demanded by experimental fiction. If “storytelling” is another word for “accounting,” then maybe we can learn to tell the story of money in new ways, and perhaps this can help us to save the planet.

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Music: “Yum” from “This Would Be Funny If It Were Happening To Anyone But Me” EP by flirting.

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Twitter: @actualflirting

Transcript

What follows is a version of a talk that I gave last October at the Middlesbrough Institute of Modern Art, or MIMA, which – as its name suggests – is in the town of Middlesbrough in the North East of England. ‘The One Fifteen at MIMA’ is a monthly series of informal, public talks given by researchers from Teesside University, where I work, and my contribution to the series was entitled: ‘How can novels help us think about money…and maybe even save the planet?’ Now, this seemed like a good choice of topic when I first suggested it, but I realised soon afterwards that I’d set myself an absurdly difficult task: that of convincing my audience that story books can help to solve the climate crisis… which is ridiculous, of course, given that, as everybody knows, studying literature is a pointless waste of time! According, at least, to Emma Duncan, whose column in the Times newspaper last June ran under the headline: ‘We should cheer decline of humanities degrees’. In Duncan’s words: ‘As somebody whose taste for 19th-century novels borders on the obsessive, I sympathise with the belief that we should encourage the study of our great books. But the decline of English as a subject for study at university seems to me a healthy development’.[1] Personally, I feel very similarly about bridges – I absolutely love using them to get to the other side of rivers, but I’m far from convinced that we should encourage any more young people to fritter away their time studying structural engineering… Everything’s online nowadays, isn’t it? – if I want to speak to someone on the other side of a river, I can just zoom them. Nevertheless, Emma Duncan’s article and others like it were (and remain) part of the context in which I originally offered this talk, in which I am recording this version now, and against which I want to argue that studying novels in universities does matter and, indeed, that doing so can help us to tackle some of today’s most urgent challenges.

Speaking at a press conference in July last year, a month that was later confirmed to have been the hottest ever recorded, the UN Secretary-General António Guterres underlined the immediately pressing need to take action on climate change. Among other calls for accelerated action, Guterres asserted that:

Promises made on international climate finance must be promises kept. Developed countries must honour their commitments to provide $100 billion a year to developing countries for climate support […]. No more delays; no more excuses.[2]

Nevertheless, only the previous month, in its Climate Finance Shadow Report, Oxfam had underlined that: ‘Even by their own generous accounting standards, developed countries are three years overdue on the commitment to mobilize US$100bn per year’.[3] This figure – 100bn US dollars per year – was agreed upon in the Copenhagen Accords in 2009 as the target to be reached by 2020 for the provision of climate-related financial support by high-income countries to low- and middle-income countries. Despite the ever-clearer evidence of the consequences of climate inaction, however, last September UK Prime Minister Rishi Sunak caused consternation by pushing back previously announced Net-Zero targets for the phasing out of petrol and diesel vehicles and also of gas boilers for domestic heating. In a speech outlining his government’s new approach, Sunak observed of the process of installing an electric heat pump that: ‘For a family living in a terraced house in Darlington, the upfront cost could be around £10,000.[4] For anyone unfamiliar with the North East of England, the town of Darlington is around 16 miles from Middlesbrough, where I originally gave this talk, and I have no doubt that its residents heartily appreciated Mr Sunak’s concern for their welfare, as he continued: ‘Even the most committed advocates of Net Zero must recognise that if our solution is to force people to pay that kind of money support will collapse, and we’ll simply never get there’.[5] If our solution is to force families to pay £10,000 per household – that’s a pretty big if. Maybe the binary choice offered here between making families foot the bill and doing nothing is a false one. Even more recently, on 8 February 2024, a month that at that point was already breaking records for global temperatures, the UK Labour Party dramatically backtracked on its commitment to spend £28bn per year on green projects if elected to government because ‘fiscal rules come first’. What I really want to underline here is that, whether we’re focusing on the global question of climate finance, on the question of domestic spending on green infrastructure, or the more local question of how a family in Darlington should heat their home, the biggest barrier to attempts to avoid climate catastrophe is almost always imagined to be a lack of money.

Of course, as we all know, and as Rishi Sunak’s predecessor Theresa May reminded us back in 2017: ‘there isn’t a magic money tree that we can shake that suddenly provides for everything that people want’.[7] May’s now infamous remark followed an all-too-familiar rhetorical pattern: We would all love to invest more in the NHS, or to pay public sector workers fairly, or to prevent school buildings from collapsing on our children’s heads, or to address the appalling levels of inequality in our society, or to give ourselves a fair to middling chance of avoiding total ecosystem collapse on planet earth… but we simply don’t have enough money. However, in my current research, I draw on a very different set of perspectives on money and its potential to serve the public purpose. Broadly, these can be summarised as neochartalist, or Modern Monetary Theory (MMT), and constitutional approaches to money. These approaches challenge the premises underpinning politicians’ claims that there is ‘no money’ for the provision of vital public services. As the sociologist Mary Mellor argues in her 2019 book Money: Myths, Truths, and Alternatives, in fact: ‘there are two sources of new money that could be described as magic money trees: state spending and bank lending’.[8] Indeed, as research published in 2022 by University College London’s Institute for Innovation and Public Purpose emphasises, in the UK: ‘Government “spending” should […] be understood as a form of money creation’.[9] Now, I do appreciate that this probably sounds like a really wacky theory – the money in the Government’s coffers has to come from somewhere, right? However, it is demonstrably the case that, in the UK, whenever Parliament approves public spending, the money is made available (or, in other words, created) as if by magic, with no taxation or ‘borrowing’ involved. The UCL paper is evidenced, for example, by responses to freedom of information requests from the relevant government departments which show that this is indeed how it works. There is no reason for this to be at all controversial.

But what on earth, I hear you ask, does this have to do with novels? Well, my current research project rereads histories of literary innovation from the 1890s to the 1980s as openings towards new ways of understanding literature and money as founded upon trust, interdependence, and collectivity, emphasising money’s irreducible publicness and challenging, from a neochartalist perspective, the orthodox view of money as a medium of private exchange. The foundational role that trust plays in relation to money has long been recognised in the social sciences and especially by sociologists. Mellor points out that: ‘The “moneyness” of money reflects the trust people have in it, not the form and structure of the money itself. […] At whatever level it exists, money is pure trust’.[10] And, indeed, we can trace this idea back to one of the founders of sociology, Georg Simmel, who, in the highly influential The Philosophy of Money, first published in 1900, observes that:

Without the general trust that people have in each other, society itself would disintegrate, for very few relationships are based entirely upon what is known with certainty about another person […]. In the same way, money transactions would collapse without trust.[11]

Simmel, therefore, links the trust that holds society as a whole together to the trust underpinning money. Now, I do have some issues with Simmel’s perspectives on trust and money, which I would say are encapsulated by his use of the word: ‘transactions’. This is to say that the underlying assumption here is that money and, by extension, trust are essentially transactional phenomena. In my wider research on trust, I’ve looked at many definitions of the concept that include a calculative or strategic dimension: we decide or we agree to trust others (and we accept some of the disadvantages of being or becoming dependent upon others) in exchange for the benefits we gain from social cooperation – this is often how the story goes. However, this involves imagining that there is a stage prior to trusting and prior to interdependence, and that a collective life – Simmel’s ‘society itself’ – is something we negotiate and transact our way, somewhat reluctantly, towards. One of the things I claim in my work is that neochartalism, by situating money’s origins in the public rather than in the private domain, opens up new ways of seeing money as essentially collective and cooperative in the first place, which also means that trust has to play a foundational role in money creation rather than the after-the-event role of merely facilitating ‘money transactions’. I’m going to leave this to one side for now, though, because I think it is high time that I talked about some actual novels.

In the interests of brevity, I’m going to give you a whistle-stop tour of a few of the novels that particularly interest me in order to explain how and why I think they can help us to understand trust and money in new ways. To be clear, my focus here is not going to be on novels that directly address the issue of climate change – in other words, I’m not specifically thinking about climate fiction or ‘cli-fi – and neither will I be discussing recent books by authors such as Kim Stanley Robinson and Cory Doctorow that explore MMT-informed perspectives within their narratives. Indeed, Doctorow’s latest novel The Lost Cause (2023) imagines a future in which Money on the Left’s ‘uni’ proposal for democratising university finance has been enacted, with significant and positive consequences. While these books are not my focus for today, though, I can point interested listeners towards Money on the Left’s interviews with both writers, which you can find on our website or wherever you get your podcasts, and to Maxx Seijo’s article ‘Money’s Place: Science Fiction, Realism & Modern Monetary Theory in Kim Stanley Robinson’s The Ministry for the Future’, which was published in our open-access journal Money on the Left: History, Theory, Practice in September 2023. My current research project, however, looks at novels written a little longer ago, between the late nineteenth and the mid-late twentieth centuries, and this brings me to Ford Madox Ford’s The Good Soldier, first published in 1915, which is really the book that got me thinking about the issues of money and trust in be first place.

The Good Soldier’s narrator, John Dowell, is one of the most notoriously unreliable and, moreover, uncertain storytellers in twentieth century fiction. At the opening of the novel, one of his immediate difficulties is that – having discovered that the man he believed to be his closest friend, Edward Ashburnham, has conducted a nine-year love affair with his wife, Florence – he cannot decide whether the life he thought he had been living for close to a decade was in any sense ‘real’ or ‘true’. Moreover, Dowell is uncertain as to how best to describe the friend he now knows to have betrayed him (‘It is very difficult to give an all-round impression of any man’, he says at one stage), whilst clinging to the memory of the upstanding English gentleman he continues, inexplicably, to love and admire.[12] Edward Ashburnham, he declares early on in his narrative:

was the cleanest looking sort of chap;—an excellent magistrate, a first rate soldier, one of the best landlords, so they said, in Hampshire, England. […] You would have said that he was just exactly the sort of chap that you could have trusted your wife with. And I trusted mine—and it was madness.[13]

Dowell’s problem, as he frames it here, is one of trust. He trusted Edward and Florence, and yet, as he now understands it, this ‘was madness’. Nevertheless, as I’ve already mentioned, Dowell remains committed to his impression of Ashburnham as a good soldier, magistrate, landlord, and, above all, gentleman. Furthermore, Dowell’s questionable trustworthiness as a narrator, which stems from his uncertainty over both the details and the meaning of the tale he tries to tell, is inextricably bound up with his own difficulties as a truster. Ford, significantly, was a major literary modernist, which is to say that he was one of many figures from across the arts – including painters, composers, sculptors, film makers, architects, and so on, alongside writers – who were determined, in Ezra Pound’s words, to ‘make it new’ during the early decades of the twentieth century. Part of the argument of the book I’m currently writing – which is entitled Literature, Money, and Trust, 1890-1990: Monetary Modernisms – is that experimental works of art demand or require a form of openness to the new, to the unusual, to the strange, and to the unconventional on the part of readers, listeners, viewers, and audiences, or to put it another way, that they demand a kind of trust. Ford’s experiments with narrative form in The Good Soldier, then, mean that the reader is just as uncertain as Dowell about the events he narrates. Dowell’s sense of Florence’s untrustworthiness also leads him at one stage to observe: ‘that Florence was a personality of paper—that she represented a real human being with a heart, with feelings, with sympathies and with emotions only as a banknote represents a certain quantity of gold’.[14] Thus, Dowell connects the trust we place in other people (and, indeed, in the representations of people we find in novels) to the trust we place in money. Of course, Ford was writing this at around the time of Britain’s abandonment of the gold standard following the outbreak of the First World War – so, the extent to which a banknote did represent ‘a certain quantity of gold’ was in doubt, perhaps for the first time in a century. There is far too much to say about gold money and the gold standard to do this topic justice here, especially given the connections many literary critics have made between metallic money, paper money, and the novel. However, I do want to underline the way that The Good Soldier is both preoccupied with trust at a formal and structural level – in terms of its experimental narrative technique, for example – and at a thematic level, as well as being simultaneously preoccupied with money.

My next example is a very different kind of text: Patricia Highsmith’s The Talented Mr Ripley, which was first published in 1955. Highsmith was a pioneering crime novelist who, although not formally experimental in quite the same way as Ford, is increasingly recognised as a late modernist innovator. One of her best-known books, especially since the 1999 film adaptation starring Matt Damon, Jude Law, and Gwyneth Paltrow, The Talented Mr Ripley introduces the eponymous anti-hero Tom Ripley, who went on to feature in a series of thrillers from the 1950s to the early 1990s. In the early stages of the novel, Ripley is approached by a wealthy businessman named Herbert Greenleaf, who pays him to travel to Europe to try to persuade his hedonistic son Dickie to return home. Ripley agrees and soon finds himself in Italy explaining his many talents to Dickie Greenleaf himself:

‘Oh, I can do a number of things – valeting, baby-sitting, accounting – I’ve got an unfortunate talent for figures. No matter how drunk I get, I can always tell when a waiter’s cheating me on a bill. I can forge a signature, fly a helicopter, handle dice, impersonate practically anybody, cook – and do a one-man show in a nightclub in case the regular entertainer’s sick. Shall I go on?’[15]

Mr Ripley’s talents, significantly, include accounting, forgery, impersonation, and performance, and he makes use of all of the above when he proceeds to murder Dickie and then to steal his identity. If you have seen the 1999 film, which Anthony Minghella both adapted and directed, you might remember the scene in which this murder takes place and which depicts Tom as lashing out – during a boat trip, with one of the boat’s oars, in response to a barrage of insults from Dickie – and killing him almost by accident. Highsmith’s book, however, presents the reader with an altogether more chilling version of events. Indeed, before Dickie’s murder, the following series of thoughts passes through Tom’s mind:

Tom stared at Dickie’s closed eyelids. A crazy emotion of hate, of affection, of impatience and frustration was swelling in him, hampering his breathing. He wanted to kill Dickie. It was not the first time he had thought of it. […] If he killed him on this trip, Tom thought, he could simply say that some accident had happened. He could – He had just thought of something brilliant: he could become Dickie Greenleaf himself. He could do everything that Dickie did. He could […] set up an apartment in Rome or Paris, receive Dickie’s cheque every month and forge Dickie’s signature on it. He could step right into Dickie’s shoes.[16]

Here, and throughout the novel, Highsmith uses a form of what, in literary studies, we call free indirect style – without going too much into the technicalities, this is a means by which a third person narrator gives the reader a sense of listening in on a character’s thoughts without directly adopting that character’s first-person perspective. While The Good Soldier is told in the first person, by John Dowell himself, The Talented Mr Ripley is narrated in the third person throughout – it is ‘Tom stared at Dickie’s closed eyelids’ and ‘He wanted to kill Dickie’, not ‘I stared at Dickie’ or ‘I wanted to kill him’ – and yet, throughout the story, the reader sees everything from Tom Ripley’s perspective. Importantly, by inhabiting his point of view, the reader becomes complicit in his crimes – most readers, I think, want Tom to get away with his murders and to escape when it looks like he will be caught – and as well as raising ethical questions, this returns us to the question of trust. Highsmith’s novel is compelling and disturbing in equal measure, especially when we read the precise, cold, and detached descriptions of the way Tom, in the act of killing Dickie, ‘picked up the oar, as casually as if he were playing with it between his knees’, and then ‘came down with it on the top of Dickie’s head’, or of how ‘The edge of the oar cut a dull gash that filled with a line of blood as Tom watched.’[17] This is a long way from the crime of passion committed by Matt Damon’s Tom Ripley in the film version. And yet, if all we read in this novel is described from the perspective of a conman and a serial murderer, can we really trust the narrative? And if we find ourselves empathising with a calculating killer, can we trust ourselves?

At this juncture, it is important to acknowledge what may appear to be a tension in my claim that literary works – and especially experimental works – both demand and foster trust in the form of an openness to newness, strangeness, and otherness, given that I have so far chosen to focus on novels that foreground acts of deception, infidelity, betrayal, and even murder. I could say much more here about the difficulties scholars have faced when attempting to define trust and about my wider argument about the inevitable conceptual blurriness surrounding this fascinating term. However, this would be a different and a much longer talk. What I can say is that trusting is always an ethically-charged gamble – the risk of betrayal inheres in the act of trusting and there would be no need to trust either a literary text or another person if we could predict the outcome of doing so in advance. If we could guarantee that our openness to alterity and to the future would always have positive consequences, then it would not constitute a genuine act of trust. Moreover, there absolutely can be – indeed there are – tensions between the trust that literary form demands of the reader (such as the inhabiting of the protagonist’s perspective that Highsmith’s free indirect style calls for) and the imaginative territory that the text explores, which can of course be exclusionary, discriminatory, politically dubious, and/or morally indefensible. Similarly, I would argue that, although money creation is always an act of trust, this does not prevent it from being spent in exclusionary, discriminatory, politically dubious, and/or morally indefensible ways.

With this in mind, the final work of literature I want to discuss is Jeanette Winterson’s The Passion, a postmodern novel set partly in Venice during the Napoleonic Wars. This text has two first-person narrators, Henri and Villanelle, each of whom repeatedly asks the reader to trust them, while simultaneously affirming that they are telling stories. The novel is, in this respect, an example of ‘historiographic metafiction’, a term coined by the critic Linda Hutcheon in 1987, the year in which The Passion was first published. In essence, this label refers to works that are highly self-reflexive, both about their own status as works of fiction and about the processes and procedures by which history is recorded and written down. In The Passion, historical figures, such as Napoleon Bonaparte, and settings, such as the city of Venice, appear alongside apparently magical characters and events. The novel’s second section, which is narrated by Villanelle, takes place in Venice, the ‘city of mazes’, where: ‘You may set off from the same place to the same place every day and never go by the same route’.[18] Moreover, as Villanelle explains at the beginning of her narrative: ‘Rumour has it that the inhabitants of this city walk on water. That, more bizarre still, their feet are webbed’.[19] This, then, is a magical city, inhabited by magical people, and yet the reader can never be certain as to whether the fantastical aspects of the story should be understood to have taken place or not because of the way the narrators continually raise the question of trust. Here is Villanelle describing a moment when it seems that she herself may have walked on water:

The surface of the canal had the look of polished jet. I took off my boots slowly, pulling the laces loose and easing them free. […]

Could I walk on that water?

Could I?

I faltered at the slippery steps leading into the dark. It was November, after all. I might die if I fell in. […]

I stepped out and in the morning they say a beggar was running round the Rialto talking about a young man who’d walked across the canal like it was solid.

I’m telling you stories. Trust me.[20]

The phrasing here is especially fascinating, I think, since Villanelle is describing her own actions and yet chooses to defer to what ‘they say’ a beggar later claimed to have witnessed, before repeating the line, which has already appeared several times in the novel’s apparently unrelated first section, narrated by Henri: ‘I’m telling you stories. Trust me.’ Indeed, it is never clear whether this means ‘trust me in spite of the fact that I’m telling you stories’ or ‘trust me because I’m telling you stories’. In her afterword to the novel, Winterson notes that: ‘I wrote The Passion in 1986, boom-time of the Thatcher years, clock-race of yuppies and city boys, rich-quick, never count the cost’.[21] Thus, there is a connection between the financial climate of 1980s London and the novel’s magical, maze-like city of Venice, where nothing can be known for certain and where the casino plays a prominent role. Indeed, I would argue that Winterson’s self-conscious, postmodern attitude to truth, to history, and to storytelling, along with the issues we have already seen emerging in Ford’s and Highsmith’s novels, can help us to reflect more broadly on the relationships between literature, money, and trust.

Regular Money on the Left listeners may recall that, last year, Scott Ferguson and I recorded a 3-part podcast series on the topic of ‘Postmodern Money Theory!’ The starting point for our discussion was the way that MMT is itself sometimes described as ‘postmodern’, the assumption being that this is obviously an insult and can function as a way of dismissing the whole idea. ‘Modern Monetary Theory’ people will say on the social media platform formerly known as Twitter, ‘more like postmodern money theory’, equating postmodernism with an extreme relativism whereby nothing really means anything and you can make up any truth you like. The idea that the British government creates money when it spends – which, as I underlined earlier, really shouldn’t be a controversial notion – is imagined to be one that renders money itself a meaningless concept. By contrast, here at Money on the Left we embrace a heterodox understanding of public endogenous money that challenges the conventional view of money as a scarce commodity or a neutral ‘veil’ over the forms of private exchange that are sometimes assumed – by thinkers such as Simmel, for example – to be the basis of society itself. Indeed, we would argue that understanding money as a public utility, as a contested and contestable medium, as a site of political struggle, as (at least potentially) subject to democratic control, and, in my terms, as an expression of trust, makes money far more meaningful than meaningless.   

As Christine Desan puts it in her landmark 2014 study Making Money, if we want to understand money’s history and to think about where money comes from: ‘we could look for a creation story that explains how money emerges without assuming the exchange it is supposed to enable. […] We need a story that acknowledges, even draws upon, money’s constant construction’.[22] This is an important point, because we are not suggesting for a moment that money doesn’t facilitate and hasn’t facilitated private exchange or what we might now call marketisation. However, the mainstream view that markets come first, that markets are somehow part of the natural order of things, and that they lead, spontaneously to the emergence of money is one that Desan’s work challenges. As Desan goes on to affirm, thinking differently about its origins and about the very idea of money creation, ‘suggests that “making money” is a constitutional project’.[23] Jakob Feinig puts it like this in his 2022 book Moral Economies of Money:

Since money is a malleable institution, it can mobilise existing resources and build new productive capacities. In contexts marked by silencing [Feinig’s term for the processes by which money users are denied a role in shaping money creation], money can appear to dominate all actors […] instead of appearing as a flexible instrument that constellations of users and issuers can deploy to serve democratically defined purposes.[24]

In other words, understanding money as something that is constantly being constructed and reconstructed, created and recreated, and as ‘malleable’, ‘flexible’, and available to meet public and ‘democratically defined’ needs, opens up new possibilities for reclaiming money for emancipatory and, indeed, ecologically just politics. Once again, the contention underpinning my current research is that the trust we place in literature is best understood not as a form of calculative, transactional exchange – I’m willing to trust but only if I get something specific in return – but as the kind of openness to newness, strangeness, and otherness that’s called for by the novels I’ve been talking about today. Indeed, I argue that thinking about trusting literature in this way can help us to think about the trust inherent in money as much less transactional and much more participatory than we’ve been taught to think of it.

I want to finish with a reminder of what’s at stake here, which means returning to the outlandish claim I made at the start: that thinking about novels might help us to save the planet. As the MMT economists Yeva Nersisyan and Randall Wray put it in their 2021 article ‘Can We Afford the Green New Deal’: ‘Perhaps the biggest obstacle to the implementation of the GND is the belief that the government has to raise revenue to pay for it’.[25] As I have been affirming throughout this talk, the MMT view is that government spending is money creation and, thus, that there is no need to ‘raise revenue’ (as we conventionally imagine this process) to pay for a Green New Deal. Moreover, as Scott Ferguson and Ben Wilson put it: ‘The money question is up for grabs for the first time in nearly a century. Now, the relevant question is no longer, Who will find the money? It is, instead, Who will create it?’ [26] Indeed, this prompts the further question: how can money creation be redesigned in ways that advance rather than continuing to hinder social and ecological justice? In the words of Maren Poitras, director of the documentary film Finding the Money, which premiered in the USA last year: ‘This money piece, I think, is really the missing piece in the entire environmental movement’.[27] It is worth remembering that storytelling is another word for accounting and that, if we want to, we can tell the story of money in a new way: we can make it new, in other words. In my research, I suggest that the trust involved in using and creating money is much closer than we think to the trust involved in reading novels. Today, I hope I have managed to persuade you that thinking differently about literature, money, and trust might just open up new possibilities for avoiding climate catastrophe, and surely that is something worth putting our trust in.


[1] Emma Duncan, ‘We should cheer decline of humanities degrees’, The Times, 16 June 2023.

[2] UN Secretary-General António Guterres, 27 July 2023, accessed 24 October 2023: https://press.un.org/en/2023/sgsm21893.doc.htm

[3] Oxfam, Climate Finance Shadow Report, June 2023.

[4] Rishi Sunak, ‘PM speech on Net Zero: 20 September 2023’, accessed 24 October 2023: https://www.gov.uk/government/speeches/pm-speech-on-net-zero-20-september-2023

[5] Sunak, ‘PM speech on Net Zero’.

[6] Kiran Stacey and Fiona Harvey, ‘Labour cuts £28bn green investment pledge by half’, Guardian, 8 February 2024, accessed 23 February 2023: https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2024/feb/08/labour-cuts-28bn-green-investment-pledge-by-half

[7] UK Prime Minister Theresa May, 2 June 2017.

[8] Mary Mellor, Money: Myths, Truths, and Alternatives (Polity Press, 2019), 117.

[9] Andrew Berkeley et al., ‘The self-financing state’, UCL Institute for Innovation and Public Purpose (2022), 2.

[10] Mellor, Money, 6-8. Emphasis added.

[11] Georg Simmel, The Philosophy of Money [1900] (Abingdon: Routledge, 2011), 191. Emphasis added.

[12] Ford Madox Ford, The Good Soldier, ed. Martin Stannard (New York: Norton, 2012), 105.

[13] Ford, The Good Soldier, 14.

[14] Ford, The Good Soldier, 86.

[15] Patricia Highsmith, The Talented Mr Ripley (London: Vintage, 1999), 51.

[16] Highsmith, The Talented Mr Ripley, 87-8.

[17] Highsmith, The Talented Mr Ripley, 90-1.

[18] Jeanette Winterson, The Passion (London: Vintage, 2001), 49.

[19] Winterson, The Passion, 49.

[20] Winterson, The Passion, 69.

[21] Winterson, The Passion, 161.

[22] Christine Desan, Making Money: Coin, Currency, and the Coming of Capitalism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 38.

[23] Desan, Making Money, 69.

[24] Jakob Feinig, Moral Economies of Money: Politics and the Monetary Constitution of Society (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2022), 12.

[25] Yeva Nersisyan and L. Randall Wray, ‘Can We Afford the Green New Deal?’, Journal of Post Keynesian Economics 44.1 (2021), 71.

[26] Scott Ferguson and Benjamin Wilson, ‘Stop Trying to Find the Money – Create It’, Academe 108.4 (Fall 2022).

[27] Maren Poitras, director of Finding the Money (2023), qtd. Pam Grady, ‘“Finding the Money” documentary explores another angle to national debt’, San Francisco Chronicle, 12 October 2023.

Resisting Predatory Finance w/ Raúl Carrillo (Recovered Audio!)

Money on the Left is proud to present recovered and remastered audio from our interview with Raúl Carrillo, published previously solely as a written transcript. The recording also includes a new  audio introduction in which Billy Saas reflects on the significance of our dialog with Carrillo for contemporary politics. 

In our discussion, we explore the promise of the public money framework for advancing antiracist, anti-imperialist, and democratic politics across the world. We discuss how the public money or MMT perspective shapes his work as an attorney fighting against predatory finance and for an international, rights-based approach to full employment. A significant portion of the conversation is also devoted to Raúl’s ongoing critique of the “taxpayer money” trope in U.S. political culture. In both his recent article for the UCLA Criminal Law Review and a 2017 piece (coauthored with Jesse Myerson) for Splinter, Raúl persuasively shows that the myth of “taxpayer money” is not only incorrect in operational terms, but also a significant threat to marginalized communities and a major rhetorical obstacle for progressive politics. 

Raúl Carrillo is an attorney, chair of the board of the Modern Money Network, Research Fellow with the Global Institute for Sustainable Prosperity, and member of the advisory board at Our Money.

You can read his article for the UCLA Criminal Law Review here: https://escholarship.org/uc/item/7rp8g89c.

See his article on “The Dangerous Myth of Taxpayer Money” here: https://splinternews.com/the-dangerous-myth-of-taxpayer-money-1819658902

Theme music by Hillbilly Motobike.

Visit our Patreon page: https://www.patreon.com/MoLsuperstructure

Transcript

The following was transcribed by Richard Farrell and has been lightly edited for clarity.

William Saas: Raúl Carrillo, welcome to Money on the Left.

Raúl Carrillo: Thanks, Billy. I’m really happy to be here–long time hype man, first time participant.

William Saas: Thank you so much. It’s a long time coming. And we’re really thrilled to have you here. As we normally do, we’d like to ask you to start by telling us a little bit about your personal, political, and professional background as they relate to your appearance on the show today.

Raúl Carrillo: Sure thing, Billy. I’m on this podcast in my capacity, as you all know, as the co-chair of the Modern Money Network, the power vacuum behind the throne so to speak. But I’m happy to walk through my journey and how I got to MMT, which is rich and a little bit unique, just like everybody else’s. That’s sort of how it happens. You don’t come into heterodox economics, much less heterodox interdisciplinary studies, without a wild ride. So I’m happy to take it from the top. I grew up in the US Mexico borderlands, southern New Mexico, west Texas, which is where my folks have been for a very long time on both sides. It is a financial as well as biophysical desert. I grew up in a lot more relative material comforts compared to my community, my family, and my friends, but that allowed me to start to gain an appreciation of the wide gaps between the level of wealth, income, and resources in our area versus others. And so, I’ve always had this economic justice bent given my own family’s history, which has always been focused on racial justice.

I grew up on the stories of the Chicano civil rights movement, the Poor People’s Campaign, alliances with Black activists in the south, as well as stories about indigenous rights. I started to study economics when I got to college in order to better understand the extraction and massive inequality that I had seen back home in the United States and during my time in Mexico and other places. For me, it’s always been about intertwined injustices. When I was studying economics in college, the bottom fell out in a way like it does with everybody else. I was an undergrad learning about why all the things I believed in weren’t technically feasible. For me, this was instruction from a lot of the folks who have written textbooks; a lot of people who had made a career out of capturing political energy, filtering it through neoclassical or orthodox economics, and constraining it. That is essentially what happened to me as an undergrad–upwardly mobile dreams of people of color are cast in a certain way and the economics that attends that is a neoliberal set of economic ideas. So when everything fell apart, I couldn’t explain to anybody back home why things happen the way they happen despite all my time with these economists. This became increasingly frustrating. And so, I turned more broadly into the social sciences and law in particular.

The first MMT thinker I ever read wasn’t Dr. Kelton or Dr. Tcherneva, even though I’m very close to both of their work at this point. It was the work of William Black, who is a law professor and white collar criminologist that wrote a book called, The Best Way to Rob a Bank Is to Own One, after the crisis. He also has an interesting life. He was an assassination target of some financers back during the savings and loans crisis. He has traveled across multiple continents. But what he did that was special to me–and he wasn’t the only one who did this but he was the first one I was introduced to–was to connect some grand theses about austerity and public finance to predation. And I’d say that this is the site of my work today. Again, after the crisis, I abandoned economics in general and then went into law. I spent some time working in California on the multi-state mortgage fraud settlement. Then, I went to law school with a financial reform and racial justice lens. I didn’t really understand money or the deeper roots of the financial system, although I very much wanted to. I was lucky enough to meet Rohan Grey in law school. He was a year ahead of me and had already formed the corpus of the Modern Money Network. Over time, we turned that into what it is today with the help of y’all and many, many other great folks.

Maxximlian Seijo: As you’re alluding to already, you clearly work across myriad areas of law and political economy, and when we were preparing for this conversation, we tried to pour through your work once again and articulate a more or less single thread that links to various projects, which you’ve done just now in one framing and fashion. In our reading, it seems that your work insists that really we can only fully detect, resist, and overcome racism across the globe in a powerful and systemic way if we adopt the public money lens, or the Modern Monetary Theory perspective, which we all variously share. Would you consider that to be a fair assessment? And perhaps could you say more about how you came to this particular conviction?

Raúl Carrillo: Absolutely. Thanks, Maxx. I think that’s a fair encapsulation of the aim of my work as a scholar, organizer, activist, and someone who’s in this space with y’all. For me, certainly my focus has been race. Again, that’s the background and the lens through which I came to this, but it’s more about predation and depression in general, and the monetary architecture that creates those dynamics and lends itself to the exploitation of people of color but also any folks who are marginalized or oppressed in myriad ways. A lot of people have done some really great work about austerity, financial regulation, and social reproduction theory, for example, Zdravka Todorova, Donatella Alessandrini, and others who have been involved in the MMT community. I came to start focusing on race again because of my background, but also because it struck me that knowledge of the monetary and financial system has been used as a cudgel against movements for racial justice, social justice movements for emancipation, and other more egalitarian aims.

We discuss all the time how the “pay for” question is used as a trump card, but it’s really used as a trump card in specific contexts. Usually, it’s to tell people of color or other people demanding rights to shut up. That’s not the case when we think about, for example, the broader security state, the military, the surveillance state, war, incarceration, deportation, etc. The right wingers demand blank checks for the security of a small group of people that they imagine are deserving of care. I know you all touch on these things in MMN-HD especially, but that is also a guiding premise of my work. Having studied how Wall Street and Silicon Valley prey on people, working in a field on how public money finances rights, social justice, socialism, or to paraphrase Dr. King, you can call it whatever you want but it’s a system within which all of God’s creatures are entitled to a certain amount of resources, you really have to confront the monetary architecture. To stop the predation, you have to have a vision of abundance that cuts at the very roots of why the predation happens in the first place. For me, MMT crystallizes that in a way that most other bodies of work and thoughts across the social sciences withhold from doing.

The way that I frame it is that it is extremely difficult to have your eyes on all the balls that are in the air right now. We can’t afford to be in silos as far as movements go. We need to be talking about the holy trinity–race, gender, and class–but also immigration, nationalism, surveillance, climate change and ecology more broadly all the time. And so, the way I try to approach talking to fellow activists, fellow organizers–especially those working towards racial justice–is to try to meet folks where they’re at and also come with an open mind as to what I might learn. I think there’s a tendency, especially among the white Left, to zoom in on the organizers or just everyday people trying to make their communities better, and think that they’re not demanding a certain thing because they don’t get it conceptually. However, I don’t think that has been the case in my experience.

I was a financial regulator after law school. Then, I was a direct services attorney for three years. I worked in an organization in New York where we had a financial justice hotline where folks who were experiencing problems with debt collectors, landlords, or credit bureaus, problems of financial nature, could pick up the phone and call and ask for help in English, Spanish, and sometimes Mandarin. What I remember is that people on the ground have an extremely sophisticated view of money. I remember that from my community, my family, and from other folks. Because that was brainwashed out of me by neoliberal economics, which forces MMT into a position where it’s explaining things that strike people as really jargony and aren’t always articulated in an inclusive register despite the great work that a lot of us have done here and despite the great work that Stephanie Kelton has done, etc.

And so, I think that poor folks across the board, they’re used to making money to pay off loans. They understand where every penny has gone. In my experience, when you talk to people about the public nature of money, even not necessarily MMT, but whether it be public banking, complementary currencies, or another kind of economic development initiative, people actually get it. It’s no more counterintuitive than the premises of Orthodox economics, which are like, assume there is an apple and two white guys on an island and they’re redistributing the apple back and forth, and there’s no society. This is not a good model for analysis in the social sciences, as we can go on and on about.

What I try to do when I engage with folks on the ground, which is maybe a little bit different from when I engage with critical race theorists who have a different jargon problem, is that I tell folks I think you know that money is a public thing, that money is a government thing, and look at how the system is jacked in all these different ways. And people get that. Academics sometimes have a little bit more trouble, partially because they’re locked into the tropes of their own interlocutors, for which I don’t blame academics of color at all. Nor am I here to say that I have all the answers. But I do think that when you massage, interrogate, or just get in conversation with a lot of things that critical race theorists say, for instance, the assumptions are there, and they just need to be teased out.

For instance, there are tons of critical tax scholars who have talked about the ways in which white taxpayers do not necessarily see taxpayers of colors as part of the same social class. And yet when it comes to the macroeconomics or political economy, we still find the tropes of taxpayer money, of the deserving benefit recipients, as Angela Harris at UC Davis says–and that’s to credit Professor Harris on bringing in MMT and interrogating it in a very constructive way compared to some other theorists. So, I think the seeds of thinking about money, more critically, are already in a lot of critical race theory. From my understanding of feminist legal theory, they’re also there as well. What needs to happen is an evolution in the bridging more so than necessarily a course correction, if that makes sense.

Scott Ferguson: I really appreciate that. I’ll say in my own experience just talking to folks in my own community, they tend to have an easier time than a lot of academics I know who I try to talk to about it. Because they can begin with like, “Oh, yeah. Money comes from the government. I guess that makes sense.”

Raúl Carrillo: Yeah, I mean property comes from the government. Whether a contract is a contract is something that comes from the government. All of these basic things that construct our society that economists want to say are brought from the market or whatever it may be, once those people take a minute, they get it. So why would money be so much different than all these other things that leftists and social movements interrogate every day?

Scott Ferguson: Absolutely.

William Saas: Let’s stick with taxpayer money for just a little bit. This is an area that you’ve consistently set your critical sights on, talking about the political and legal construction of the taxpayer as a racialized and racist identity. Recently you published about this in the UCLA Criminal Justice Law Review. Before you published something in Splinter Magazine with Jesse Myerson, called “The Dangerous Myth of Taxpayer Money,” which, by the way, I’ve found to be a very useful article to use in the classroom, so thank you for that. Could you walk us through your argument here and while we’re also on the subject of reception, maybe reflect a bit about how people intuitively understand the publicity of money? Is it the same case with the taxpayer money versus public money argument?

Raúl Carrillo: Yeah, excellent bundle of questions that I really think is particularly important and I’m happy to talk about this right now because of the moment that we’re all experiencing with the uprising and all the very courageous movements shaking what’s going on around the country. This figure, the legal and cultural figure of the taxpayer, is very central to the creation of mass incarceration, the policing system, and the general security apparatus that protects private property. This is obviously not just my insight. My friend, David Stein, the very first guest of Money on the Left, will tell you that. Virginia Eubanks, a scholar of surveillance, will tell you that as well. And many, many, many other people will. It’s no secret that in the United States taxpayer forces have often been reactionary.

I think the best encapsulation of this vision that I’ve come across thus far is the book Racial Taxation by the legal historian, Camille Walsh at the University of Washington. Dr. Walsh has done us all a great service by actually going back into court doctrine, digging into archives and letters between supreme court justices, and finding out the extent to which the figure of the taxpayer, taxpayer money, or taxpayer rights in terms of taxpayer citizenship, is central to the story of the failure of the liberal vision of integration in this country. One reason for that is in order to prevent schools from being segregated, a lot of reactionary forces just reverted to the cultural primacy in the United States of the idea of the taxpayer, of protecting taxpayer funds, and having local fiscal control over that which we consider to be critical to society or to social reproduction.

Just to give a little bit of background on Walsh’s book because my work wouldn’t exist at all without it, Jesse and I wrote this Splinter Magazine piece a year before Dr. Walsh’s book came out, but her book absolutely fundamentally changed the game. Dr. Walsh tells the story of racial liberalism of the Warren court just as much as she tells a story about taxpayer money. For Dr. Walsh, the attempt by the judiciary during the 50s and 60s to not integrate analysis of identity with analysis of economics, as you all discuss frequently, resulted in the material failure to integrate schooling and eventually led to a loss in the journey of Chicano civil rights activists, children, families, and educators in South Texas to achieve equal funding at schools. Essentially, our team in this lawsuit, which was called San Antonio vs. Rodriguez and heard in 1976, had folks who were Mexican-American in Chicano schools alleging that their fundamental constitutional right to education was being violated by local property financing, or a predatory property tax financing scheme.

To an MMTer, of course, that makes intuitive sense. Like if something is supposed to be a right, or something is supposed to be of critical importance, then why is it not supported by the power of the public purse? Essentially, they were saying, we do not have equal schooling because we do not have equal funding, and thus our rights are being violated. What happened in that case, as Dr. Walsh outlines, is extremely interesting and important. Justice Powell, who was formally the superintendent of a local school board back home, turns out is extremely interested in this case and is having back and forths with representatives, taxpayer associations, and other reactionary folks. His ruling eventually stands on the idea of taxpayer money, saying it may be true that under some state constitutions, or perhaps even under the federal constitution, there is a right to education, but that doesn’t trump taxpayer rights.

That’s not exactly the whole thing but that’s what’s important for this conversation. It’s no lie to say that the federal fundamental right to education died at the feet of the taxpayer money trope. And in our fight for new rights now, that is extremely, extremely important. I hope we can discuss that in a little bit but I would like to circle back to this UCLA article and the abolitionist moment in general. So right now, we are seeing calls to defund the police, which while it can be perceived as an abolitionist demand, is not necessarily as I understand it from folks like the organizer, Mariame Kaba. Of course, the question is, after you defund police, what do you fund? What do you invest in and at what level? And other folks are doing great, great work in this area.

My friend and fellow MMT traveler, the sociologist Tamara Nopper, wrote an interesting article in Jacobin a couple of weeks ago, talking about how the defund demand is an evolution in and of itself that should be lauded, and I absolutely agree. Back after the Rodney King beatings and what went down in LA afterwards, a lot of folks bought the idea of minority owned business development and corporate investment and it’s taken a long time to get to the defund movement. Now, the question is: what sort of funding for the nurturing world, for the actually safe world, do we want? I think that fundamentally has to be federal, as any MMTer will tell you for technical reasons. But it also has to be federal for political reasons. And in no small part, it’s to avoid this mess of the myth of taxpayer money.

So the myth of taxpayer money essentially says, whether folks want to admit it or not, the more that you pay in taxes, the more of a damn voice you have in society. There’s this liberal idea that we are all a monolithic taxpayer class and because I pay sales taxes on things, I have a lot in common with someone who pays a lot of capital gains taxes. And I just fundamentally don’t think that’s true. Dr. Walsh’s work makes it abundantly clear that that’s not true. When we think about taxpayers to be extended to social class at all, it’s extremely stratified, it’s racialized, it’s gendered, it’s sliced up, and it’s diced up. People don’t look necessarily horizontally at each other as peer taxpayers. In fact, taxpayer money–this idea that you’re entitled to more because you are a taxpayer rather than a citizen or a human or any other kind of subject–is replete within right wing movements.

It’s obviously essential to the Tea Party, but it’s also essential to the Charlottesville torch bearers and every other white supremacist force in this country. And it’s not just the United States to be clear, even though that’s where we’re situating this conversation. There’s a fiscal sociologist at the University of Alberta named Kyle Willmot, whose work I have been recently diving into, who is a scholar of indigenous taxpayer identity, but is also just investigating the global role of taxpayer associations generally. He finds that taxpayer associations serve a particular role within neoliberalism and within crafting subjectivity, in encouraging people to bound their government and see it as a resource extractor rather than a resource generator, which I think is something that’s very familiar to all of us. I should take here to note that Dr. Wilmont, like Dr. Walsh, takes care to note that taxpayer identity doesn’t necessarily have to be reactionary. It’s in some ways a mercenary concept as they say, but it has been wielded, I think, irredeemably by the right in this country. Although, I know folks have done other work about that, and I’m happy to discuss the ways in which perhaps you all see where it’s recoverable.

But that’s pretty much where I’m at at this point. The UCLA article, which is really more of a short reflection piece, complicates the taxpayer identity within the movement to end monetary sanctions. What I’d be welcoming or open to doing here is having a more integrated and more detailed conversation about the role of taxpayer identity and whether it’s recoverable or not. Maxx, I know you have thoughts on that and I’m sure that other people have thoughts on that, but I don’t want to push it too hard.

Maxximilian Seijo: No, that’s cool. I think Billy has also done some thinking about this. So I can defer to Billy first if he’d like.

William Saas: I think this is more about your work but I really appreciate you opening up space for it. Maybe one of the things I was trying to get to in a roundabout way was talking about reception. I think that’s one of my ways of thinking about whether or not it’s recoverable. It strikes me that even though it is, and I agree with you, probably irredeemable, the taxpayer identity that looms large in all the ways that you’ve identified is also super firmly ingrained and even mobilized by people with good intentions frequently. I know currently we’re talking about cutting university budgets and things like that and the taxpayer trope is showing up. I wonder if you might offer some advice for somebody who is concerned about that long insidious history that you’ve outlined for us, and that Dr. Walsh outlines well in her book, how to, with compassion and respect, offer an alternative? I guess maybe the answer is in the question there, but how do you present this to people humbly and how is it received?

Raúl Carrillo: Sure. This is a great set of questions, Billy. I do spend a good deal of time sort of just shouting to stop saying taxpayer money and say public money instead.

Scott Ferguson: Yeah, so do we.

Raúl Carrillo: Haha, as many of us do. But I think that there’s not a monolithic answer. It is different strokes for different folks. The first question you have to ask is: what are folks using the trope to try to achieve? To give a basic example of one end of the spectrum, if folks are arguing for racial or gender equity literally as taxpayers, like as they’re filing their tax returns, for instance, then that’s not necessarily a frame within which to inject this whole argument. It’s not gonna be as successful. But of course if we’re talking at the federal level, then it’s a lot easier. I think folks are starting to understand that all the money that the Fed is lending out is not taxpayer money. How could it be taxpayer money? We’re all broke right now so how does that make sense? Also, and this weaves into the pertinent questions regarding the UCLA article and the protest, what happens when people feel a sense of injustice as taxpayers, especially at the local level? Lots of folks have argued against incarceration, against utility gouging, against all sorts of things as taxpayers, and they are clearly not right wingers. I have some thoughts as to why this is strategically still unhelpful for us, but I want to pause here because I think that you’ve identified an essential question for this project and for all of us. Given that we pretty strongly think what we think and believe what we believe–and other folks do as well–how do we form a bridge here for people who are very interested in economic justice and social justice?

Maxximilian Seijo: I really like this conversation because it’s an open one that still necessarily insists on some hard values. We’re explicitly thinking critically about the historical and contextual framings that are within this concept of the taxpayer identity that you so well draw together out of some important scholarship. I’ve thought about this in the past and what strikes me is as interesting about the question of public money versus taxpayer money, is that it seems to be about framing, ultimately, because if you’re thinking with public money, there are, of course, operations of taxation inside of the public money framework, inside the fiscal-tax circuit, and many different ways of thinking about that. But it also seems what’s crucially important for synthesizing what has been said already is how one rhetorically frames one’s claim to being accounted for by governance, or another version of some democratic claim on fiscal authority? The taxpayer identity is a problem because it refracts an exclusive vision rather than an inclusive one, which is what the public money vision conversely offers. And so, it’s not that taxpayers aren’t inside a public money framework. It’s precisely that in foregrounding what taxation actually is, what it actually does, the taxpayer is resituated within an inclusive structure of claims on democratic governance and accountability. It seems like that’s what’s at stake in these questions, and I’d be curious to hear your reflection on it.

Raúl Carrillo: Damn homie, I agree with all of that. The problem is that, right now, taxpayer money is the encompassing frame. It’s the bounding frame. And there are claims for equity and justice or revolution that could be made by taxpayers within a public money frame. For me, the more immediate question is, what do we do given how not only exclusive the concept has become in the United States, but how stratified it is? It’s not just that taxpayers, and people who primarily identify as taxpayers, don’t see black and brown taxpayers as taxpayers in the same way that they are. It’s also because of what a progressive taxation structure is, because people pay different amounts of taxes and are in different tax brackets which also quantifies the concept. I would also say it corporatizes the concept. In other words, you become more like a shareholder and less like a rights holder, if that makes sense? Your claim isn’t as a political subject; your claim is as a fiscal contributor. And it’s not an economic contributor in general, to go back to your previous point, much less a social contributor or just a general contributor to the public. It’s about how much dough did you cough up for the taxman when it came around, because that’s the only kind of public finance we understand.

It’s so twisted in the United States that we call all sorts of monetary sanctions that aren’t taxes, but should be thought of as taxes, as not taxes. Fines and fees, court restitution, student loan debt, and all of these sorts of sanctions that are levied on various people throughout the economy aren’t even encompassed within the taxpayer money framework. And that becomes especially problematic when we’re talking about somewhere like Ferguson, Missouri, which is an open air debtors prison, because the local taxpayers association has destroyed the municipalities ability to raise property taxes. In fact, now they run on fine and fee money. The concept is exclusive, as you were saying in the contemporary American context, but it’s also stratified. It sets people at each other’s throats in a way that it doesn’t have to. Even if you just want to highlight everyone as a member of the economy as well as a society, there are many other categories that we can use to describe people. Public money, I think, is one of the broader ones.

William Saas: A critical difference between public money and taxpayer money that I’ve thought about is that the taxpayer identity is something that individuals can latch on to and identify as and then identify themselves as part of a collective and join a taxpayer association, for example, whereas public money is a bit more abstract, and like you say, there are a lot of different categories that we can identify. But there also doesn’t seem to be something that has such a strong rhetorical cachet as “taxpayer” that’s readily available. And maybe that’s an important part of that bridge work you were gesturing towards before.

Raúl Carrillo: Yeah, I think that’s another excellent point. Perhaps we still are on a quest for embeddedness and we’ll find other terms that create individual connection as well as making the points that we make–that money is public at the end of the day in terms of its origin, in terms of its generation, in terms of the source of the enforcement and patrolling of its use that occurs throughout the society, the legal system, and that scaffold. I like public money because for the same reasons, I like public schools still, for instance. But it does not accomplish that yet, or perhaps isn’t capable of accomplishing that connection yet. No term is perfect.

Scott Ferguson: Yeah, I think one other great term other than public money is the framing that Delman Coates is running with, which is “Our Money.” Another way of putting it is this is collective money. This relationship already belongs to us. But yeah, we need to be turning it in other kinds of directions

Raúl Carrillo: Yeah, “Our Money” establishes a social claim while avoiding the abstract term public. And I just said public schools, I like public schools, but a lot of people don’t like their public schools. A lot of people don’t like their public assistance, a lot of people don’t like public public X, public Y, or public Z. So yeah, I’m very here for “Our Money” as a board member and frequent collaborator with Dr. Coates.

Scott Ferguson: Thanks, maybe we can shift gears here. One of the things that you’ve influenced me a lot on is the important but also tricky question about a “politics of rights.” And so, I was wondering if you could lay out why a “politics of rights” really matters? How do you conceive of rights? What’s a bad way to conceive of rights? And what’s the necessary way to fight for certain rights?

Raúl Carrillo: Thank you, Scott. So this is the conversation that is going to make everyone hate me. I swear my whole vibe is synthesizing different intellectual traditions and trying to get them to talk to each other, but this is one area in which I think building a bridge, for instance, between the legal Left and Left economists requires a lot of folks to give up their premises. I know that’s a bold claim but I’m here to back it up and have some scholarship coming out about this in the fall.

So if you were to ask the most lefty lawyers right now whether we should be fighting for rights, I think that a great deal of them would say: “Screw rights, what have rights ever gotten us, rights are abstract and indeterminant.”

Maximilian Seijo: They’re Superstructure.

Raúl Carrillo: Haha, they’re slippery; too slippery to fight for. They’re liberal proceduralist stuff. They’re utterly epiphenomenal. I heard about that on another podcast; everyone listen to Superstructure with Maxx and Will Beaman. Anyways, so a lot of the legal left, and about 60% of those people live in Brooklyn, will tell you that. And I don’t mean that in a good way. It’s not a care-based Marxist approach to the law. It’s one that is predominantly held by white folks. The back and forth within the left legal academy about rights is often really split along racialized lines, as well as gendered lines, to say nothing of comparative constitutional law debates, etc. I’m trying not to be too crass about it, but I see this dynamic reproduced amongst lawyers my age. Just to give some brief background, in the 80s, professor Mark Tushnet, whose work I love, wrote an essay called “The Critique of Rights,” which pretty much outlines what I just said–rights are too slippery, too shallow, and too vague to actually achieve. And it was pretty compelling. I have felt persuaded by that argument at times. This argument was replicated in terms of its ethos with respect to property and contracts throughout this school of thought.

And then what happened is a legal scholar by the name of Patricia Williams, who is a critical race theorist as well as someone who engages in a wide variety of spheres, wrote a book called The Alchemy of Race and Rights. To paraphrase another critical feminist legal scholar, Robin West, I believe she characterized it as unwittingly eviscerating Tushnet’s essay. What Professor Williams said is, yes, rights can be all of those things, but rights are the only thing that has ever achieved a damn thing for marginalized and oppressed people in this country. And that wasn’t to say that there isn’t a generative force or power within, for instance, striking or any other sort of real political activity, but that the rights were also a necessary component of achieving any modicum of justice, much less equality for especially folks of color. That is the perspective that I have pretty much adopted. I think that there are good points made within this debate over the last few decades, on all sides that are really, really important and outstanding, but one thing that this whole sphere of discourse suffers from is an utter reliance on the premises of orthodox economics and also the trope of taxpayer money.

Scott Ferguson: So can you talk about some of your work on specific rights, like rights around our collective work on the job guarantee or a right to a job?

Raúl Carrillo: Absolutely. Most of my work on this has been presentations and other things, but this fall some of this stuff is going to start to see the light of day. For instance, there’s an essay coming out in a book called, Tipping Points in International Law, about the state of international labor law and labor generally. What I try to accomplish in this essay, drawing on the work of some of the people that I’ve just discussed as well as various other legal scholars and economists in the broader MMT and critical money world, is to say that, one, the job guarantee should be pushed through international law, which is messy, difficult and aspirational. But also international labor law, and specifically human rights law, is totally underpinned by a vision of austerity. One sort of expects that is this point now given that the Bretton Woods institutions are thoroughly neoliberalized, but a lot of the covenants in the international human rights law, for instance, are basically trying NAIRU or even something akin to NAWRU, the non-accelerating wage rate of unemployment, which they use in Europe because they don’t like to hide the ball.

There’s this sort of problem that MMT comes at about the public nature of money, which you’d think a lot of otherwise extremely incisive legal scholars would be aware of or dig a little, it plagues the very idea that there is a human right to work, which is something that is promoted by, of course, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, but also the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights, as well as CEDAW, the new treaty on international women’s rights, and all these sorts of other canonical documents from international law. And this myth is, of course, replicated in various national constitutions and labor laws across the globe, but it’s presence in international law is truly staggering. And of course, there’s no global body to coordinate fiscal policy or anything like that. In placing membership mandates on the members of these covenants, it’s utterly, utterly orthodox, and in a way that it’s damaging to any future for these places.

Maxximilian Seijo: This totally connects up to the recent Democratic primary and some of the questions around candidates’ different plans for an internationalist vision not only for climate change mitigation with the Green New Deal, but as a new way to think about how we address things like trade or other global questions of political economy. The vision that you seem to be offering here is one that takes all of the planet into account and doesn’t then seek to fracture, like perhaps Elizabeth Warren’s plan for a Green New Deal with an American first base approach to what one could call “rights,” into a more nationalist approach to addressing these international questions. And that’s a sort of mosaic, but perhaps you could reflect upon what your vision of a more internationalist framework for rights in relationship to employment means for the Green New Deal?

Raúl Carrillo: Sure thing. Perhaps this should have been the preface before talking about this book chapter. I’m not under any illusion that liberal internationalism is going to save us. That being said, I do believe that there is a more social democratic form of international human rights that is available. That’s a bit of a contentious thing to say in the legal discourse at this point, but that’s because I’m an MMTer. I think that a lot of the reasons that rights are abstract and indeterminant, vague and slippery, are fiscal and administrative. The person I owe extreme debt to here is Phil Harvey at Rutgers University. Phil has been a scholar of, as he says, the law and economics of the right to work–I would say the law and political economy of the right to work–for about 30 years. And Phil began his journey by investigating human rights law, but also investigating the transmission of some New Deal insights into international law via the United Nations Foundation and the creation of these various covenants. Phil mapped how FDR’s “Four Freedoms” were eventually transported to Geneva and became the basis of a lot of second generation of rights that actually is enshrined in international law but that we do not have in any real way in the United States.

Phil pointed out that, amongst other problems, the issue here is that the bills, the actual legislation for direct job creation, caps things at inappropriate levels. It creates no clear maps for courts to follow when they’re trying to determine if the government should try to redress a violation of a right to work and all these sorts of other operational and administrative problems. Now, Phil’s not an MMTer. And in fact, professor Harvey and I disagree on how the job guarantee should ultimately be financed, for instance. But he did make this point that this connection between public finance and rights has to be totally revisited. My contention is that if they’re fundamental rights, then they demand blank checks in the same way that the Pentagon does with their atrocious demands without anybody batting an eye. I mean, we bat an eye over here on the left, and the liberals do too, but it never really changes. Speaker Pelosi shepherds in Trump’s military bill. And the reason for this is not just that I am an MMTer. It is that the resiliency and stability of rights enforcement depends upon full funding and service.

Dr. Harvey said the distinction between a job guarantee and direct job creation is that enforceability is the individual right. And there’s an allergy to judicial enforceability of rights on the Left, because we don’t trust the courts, and that’s understandable, but Dr. Harvey empirically showed that if you have clear tests for what’s supposed to happen, for instance, when someone can no longer work in a particular job or there’s an ecological problem within that job site, what’s supposed to happen in terms of redress, is the courts are more willing to follow these sort of rubrics. Yet, the missing piece is, again, the funding. The funding has to be open ended if it’s to be a fundamental right. And that doesn’t mean that everyone’s going to flood the job guarantee all of a sudden, because you still have to want to do that type of work with that wage level and benefits. But if people can’t gain redress if they’re kicked out of the job guarantee program or not allowed in because of their race, gender, sexual orientation, or whatever it may be, then the rights aren’t real. You need something like an MMT vision to ballast anything like a social democratic or Green New Deal vision of rights.

If you bound them to a pot of money, a trust fund, or tether it to attacks, and God forbid attacks on your enemies, then you’re gonna run out of money. Not in the grand sense, but you’re going to run out of money in the administrative sense and the program is going to fail. People are gonna hate it. If the job guarantee can’t consistently hire people to produce things in the public eye so that people are perceived as successful, then it’s not going to take off as a political enterprise. And the Green New Deal doesn’t just include the job guarantee; it also includes a housing guarantee, an education guarantee, and a healthcare guarantee. So we’ve got four rights we need to fund. I think we need to be just as voracious and as fucking loud as the right wingers when it comes to providing the resources and the structure that we need to create and reproduce anything like a just society.

Scott Ferguson: Beautifully put. And this actually recalls a slogan that I came up with last year that I actually haven’t thought about in a while which is: “Inalienable rights require inalienable money.”

Raúl Carrillo: Exactly, Scott. I think yours is better, haha.

Scott Ferguson: Yours is the explanation, mine’s just the sign you hang out front.

William Saas: We’ve talked a bit about your work across various important fields. I wanted to wind us down by letting you talk a little bit about the advocacy that you’ve been up to recently on the hill, and to include things like your critique and commentary on the Libra Facebook currency and anything else you might like to talk to talk about.

Raúl Carrillo: Thanks, Billy. For about 10 months now, I have been working with a consortium of labor groups, consumer advocates, financial reform advocates, antisurveillance advocates, digital rights advocates, antitrust advocates, and various other folks on a progressive left response to what’s going on in financial technology. I know y’all have had Rohan and various other techie people on here before. My role is not really as an engineer, but as an architect. I get to break shit. I get to say when things shouldn’t be allowed to exist as they’re proposed based on various bodies of financial regulation, law, privacy, etc. That’s what I’ve been up to for roughly the last year and we’ll be continuing to do for the foreseeable future. To connect it to our discussion, I’ll tell you that in my work around the hill with all these advocates, the MMT perspective has actually been essential. Because what’s happening right now in the financial technology or #FinTech sector, is what we can loosely call the automation of finance, to quote Brett Scott.

But it’s also much bigger than that. What we’re seeing is Silicon Valley starting to exercise monetary power and vie for monetary agency in a way that mostly banks have done previously. And because they’re not banks legally, they get away with a lot of shit. This is predation in the same way as Wall Street targeting certain people to bring into a shadow financial system is. But I would argue, in terms of magnitude, it is more scary because of surveillance. Because the way that the internet works is that it takes our data, or on some occasions, it creates data about us in ways that are punitive. And so, all these big tech companies are starting to move into the financial services space, and particularly into the payment space. And the reason for that is that it’s the next data frontier. Right now, Facebook knows what you like and it has the content of your communications with people who are near and dear to you in your life. It doesn’t necessarily know what you want or what you would spend money on beyond what you like and the ads you click on, etc. Despite the existence of various thin legal firewalls and a few technological firewalls, they want the payments data and your social media data and also they know more about you so they can sell you another goddamn ad, but also so that they can increase their general economic and political power.

And the worst example of this is something called the Facebook Libra project, which as I argue in something called “The Libra Black Paper” that was created with the Americans for Financial Reform in Education Fund and the Demand Progress for Education Fund, is they’re creating a combination shadow banking system and local financial surveillance tracking. The money is going to serve as the basis for broader financial infrastructure, as every MMTer knows. That’s the goal. If you want to create power, mimic the ways of the sovereign. But also the goal is to watch how you move the money. Now, banks already do this to a far greater extent than most people are aware of. But their business model is not selling that data or sharing it as Facebook will do. And so, what we’re seeing is a giant collision between Silicon Valley and Wall Street. It also includes all these ticky tacky startups, which can be predatory and dangerously exploitative in their own way. But we’re seeing Amazon, Facebook, Google, and Apple, not to mention a bunch of larger companies in China, who are entering the monetary realm. And in the United States it’s particularly troubling because we don’t have any fucking privacy law.

This is another instance in which folks think they have rights, but they’re like consenting in a boilerplate contract to having your face analyzed. And otherwise, you don’t get to use the service and sometimes it’s “opt out.” No one gets punished to the extent that they should. I might be exaggerating a little bit, but not too much. We’re seeing, as of now, an utterly unregulated, wild west, unnecessarily imperialist Silicon Valley start to do some of the things Wall Street did with the added layer of surveillance, which also connects to state surveillance because the NSA and other organizations, as Edward Snowden showed us, have a backdoor into Facebook’s facial recognition database of protesters, for instance, where people who aren’t following the rules about pandemic guidelines are targeted. So sorry to ruin your day but that’s what I’ve been working on.

Another thing I haven’t really touched on is the color of surveillance and fitting that within the racialized predation framework I talked about earlier. Again, the Facebook Libra project is basically a combo of financial extraction and data extraction. But it’s hard to really overstate the ambition here. When this project started, it was sort of just a middle finger to regulators and policy makers generally. And my sort of personal thesis is that Facebook was doing this because that’s just how it roles. The old slogan is “move fast, break things” regardless of whether they’re laws, apparently. 

And so, the idea is to create these coins which are called stable coins. As opposed to unstable coins like Bitcoin, they’re supposed to maintain value as a medium of payment across various jurisdictions and economies across the globe. And for now, it’s just these coins. And then Facebook gets to create a digital wallet that people use for transactions which collects its own data, etc. The whole thing is actually not technically a Facebook enterprise because they’ve taken great pains to shield themselves from liability by creating an association in Geneva, Switzerland, which is of course famous for its very strong banking laws. And it has this nonprofit techie altruistic clause, which is fundamentally neoliberal. It says we’re going to create a payment method, and eventually a whole financial infrastructure, including lending, credit scoring, and all kinds of things. It is going to bank the unbanked, not just in the United States and Europe, but across the world and perhaps especially in the global south. That was the message that came out. 

In fact, in September of 2019, the CEO Facebook’s Libra enterprise, a guy named David Marcus, boasted that “Libra is going to allow the free world of Western nations to preserve the influence that, in my opinion, is necessary to maintain a good balance in the world.” It’s not difficult to just call this an imperial grab, right? And the way they’re going about this is equivalent to monetary primitive accumulation, as Mat Forstater in the MMT world describes it. They are defining what the method of payment is. The idea is that maybe it’s not accepted as taxes right away, but it’s needed for various other services if you’re interested in quick payments or if you’re interested in digital payments at all. There’s a socio-legal necessity that’s there given a weak infrastructure in the financial sectors of some economies around the world. And so, the data grab doesn’t work unless you get the currency grab. It’s currency substitution. The idea is instead of dollar-izing these economies, you Libra-ize them, and then you can Hoover up data as well. And maybe folks don’t have IDs in a certain country. In that case, what they’ll do is allow them to use their Facebook profile and a facial, retinal, or fingerprint scan, and all kinds of other things to get into the banking system. And they have all these sort of nasty techtopian plans.

Of course, the casting is altruistic because if you’ve ever been in the unfortunate spot of being next to a finance bro at a bar, you know that they know they’re jerks. But Silicon Valley people think they’re good still. They see this really as a civilizing force throughout the world. And so, it’s fundamentally an imperialist enterprise in many ways. Why in the world would anyone who cares about any sort of justice at all allow this to happen? No one asked Facebook to do this. What is it going to mean if folks like Dr. Sylla, who is fighting against the CFA Franc in Senegal, have to contend with the internet trying to beam in and take away its monetary sovereignty even after they’re successful against Macron? How is that supposed to be good for anybody for any of the things that we believe in? But yeah, Iza Kaminska at the Financial Times has called this “imperialism by stealth.” It’s just as naked when you look at the facts, but it’s coated in this California ideology gloss.

Scott Ferguson: Yeah, it also reminds me, to bring this back to the Fed, that recently Jerome Powell is on record weighing the idea of public Fed banking and banking all the unbanked, which is what this California ideology in Silicon Valley is purportedly wanting to do. What is his answer? Oh, no, no, that’s a terrible idea. The private sector will hate it.

Raúl Carrillo: I’m glad you brought this up because the war on cash isn’t just the war on cash, or the gentrification of payments, as Brett Scott calls it. As our colleague Rohan Grey says, it’s a fight for the soul of the future of digital money. It’s becoming pretty clear that the monetary system is going to become increasingly digitized. Obviously, most money is digitized. Most of the layperson MMT metaphors get it that money is increasingly keyboard strokes, digital electrons, etc. But really what we mean by this is the decreasing presence of cash as a form of money and therefore of privacy in many ways. The innovative work that’s being done around money as private cash in the digital world is mostly being done by people I have a lot of respect for, but they are not interested in a public money framework. These folks are interested in private-private money; they’re not interested in private-public money. That really is what’s going on here. There’s this conversation about creating essentially digital bank currency systems, some people call it the digital dollar, that really involves the core of this debate. And I just want to make clear that I absolutely support bank accounts for all, basic financial services for all. I don’t think that’s a neoliberal idea. I think that’s necessary.

The issue, of course, is when private credit or lending becomes the purported vehicle for curing poverty. That gets predatory real, real quick. It gets extra predatory with FinTech because, again, we’re not just talking about potentially outrageous interest rates. We’re talking about the data. We’re talking about increasingly building a scored society, as Dr. Nopper and also law Professor Frank Pasquale have both written about. These apps, as Dr. Nopper says, analyze one’s digital character. They create an image of you which has been shared, probably not just within the financial world, but within a whole sphere of industries that now rely on data collection. And finance becomes another gateway by which corporate tycoons gain more and more information about people. But it’s not just the ads and the antitrust violations. It’s the insane surveillance that crosses over to state surveillance.

Because again, the government is usually just one subpoena away from getting this information. It requires these big tech companies, in something called the Upstream Program for the NSA, to release certain kinds of data that includes the contents of communications, including your texts, for instance. And this becomes especially dangerous when you consider the color of surveillance. A lot of these FinTech products are marketed specifically to communities of color and other marginalized folks because they are folks who are more likely to not have a traditional bank account or to be excluded from the “mainstream system.” And I would argue that this is predatory. And it’s not just predatory because of the financial extraction, which is bad enough, but it’s predatory because you are jeopardizing the health and safety of people of color in a white supremacist state that is running absolutely bonkers right now.

We know that these companies have to fork over data to federal law enforcement and some of them willingly fork over data to local law enforcement. That’s what Amazon Ring is–in order to protect the white suburbs, protect their property and their goddamn taxpayer money from super predators in the embryonic criminal class, as Khiara Bridges would say. You have to create more surveillance. Workers must be watched, delivery people must be watched, people who borrow money must be watched. Amazon has this camera that says what’s up to anybody who comes up, and then that goes to the cops. And so, what happens if a delivery worker is also a protester? What happens then? And even outside of the protest context, surveillance is the norm for black folks in the context of public assistance and predatory debt. And it’s the case for many, many other people, including Muslims, for instance, and anyone who’s considered to be a threat to the Trump administration. So this whole FinTech enterprise needs to be chilled. Everybody needs to cool it. I understand that lots of folks are into financial innovation, and I would welcome their skills at blockchain or whatever it may be within the public sector. Because if the goal really is to include people, MMTers know what the right organ is for that. I think in order to push back against predation, we have to empower public money for public power in myriad ways, and not just as it is a monetary enterprise narrowly, but as it is a social one broadly.

Maxximilian Seijo: That’s sort of exciting and depressing in its own way as you suggested. But I think with that, I just wanted to say what a pleasure it’s been Raúl to have you on Money on the Left finally after all of these episodes. I think this is episode 28 now. Yeah, it’s really been such a pleasure. We are really happy to keep having these conversations and keep making this show in ways that highlight the certain things that we’re all doing as well as bringing others into the fold. And this very much fits into the former of those two things. It’s been great. Thanks so much.

Raúl Carrillo: Thanks, Maxx. It was a real pleasure to finally jump on here. Hope to return fairly soon and I will be listening to every episode. Y’all keep on truckin’.

* Thanks to the Money on the Left production team Richard Farrell (transcription) & Meghan Saas (graphic art).

Modern Movie Theory: What We Do in the Shadows

Will Beaman (@agoingaccount) is joined by Robyn Ollett (@robynollett) and Rob Hawkes (@robbhawkes) to discuss What We Do in the Shadows. Citing Robyn’s interpretations of vampirism in The New Queer Gothic: Reading Queer Girls and Women in Contemporary Fiction and Film, the cohosts situate What We Do in the Shadows within the vampire’s long history as a figure for queerness and alterity. In the second half of their conversation, Will, Robyn and Rob develop figural connections between the show’s queer citational form and Money on the Left’s articulation of endogenous credit.

Order Robyn Ollett’s book, The New Queer Gothic: Reading Queer Girls and Women in Contemporary Fiction and Film.

Music: “Yum” from “This Would Be Funny If It Were Happening to Anyone but Me” EP by flirting.
flirtingfullstop.bandcamp.com/
Twitter: @actualflirting