| \"Talking with the taxman about poetry\" |
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| Tuesday, 30 November 1999 00:00 | |
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Dougal McNeill
"Freedom
is more than a word, more than the base coinage
Of statesmen, the tyrant's dishonoured cheque, or the dreamer's mad Inflated currency."
C.
Day-Lewis' stirring poem "The Nabara" rings as true today as
it did in the 1930s. Yet one of the insults apologists for liberal
democracy habitually fling at socialism is that it is "against
human freedom and creativity." In fact, nothing could be further from
the truth.
For the
great majority, life under capitalism is a profoundly alienating
experience. Work for most people in our society is filled with
repetitive boring tasks, is undrewarding and disempowering. The
supervisor's schedule or the bosses' whim control the patterns and
routines of life, and, for most of us, work is a chore, a place where we
feel out of control and as much a part of a process as the tills we
operate, the groceries we pack or the tables we clean. Home life is
invaded by this pervasive sense of hopelessness and diconnection from
any sort of community. Drug abuse, domestic violence and depression
statistics show that "playing happy families" is not the
normal New Zealand experience.
Those
people trying to live their lives as artists, as poets and as writers
experience poverty, no recognition of their efforts and a constant
struggle to balance earning with creation. Commercial success often
involves compromises of integrity. Even those with well paid jobs they
find in some aspects rewarding - lecturers, researchers, teachers and so
on - find themselves alienated by capitalism. Researchers are hampered
in their efforts by government and industrial funding mood-swings,
lecturers and teachers are impared by the needs of an education system
to conform to capitalist expectations before the needs of those wanting
to learn. In short, apart from the tiny minority who control the wealth,
all of us are alienated and hampered creatively by the system - from
abjectly impoverished unemployed to reasonably affluent professors.
So where
is this freedom and creativity the supporters of liberal democracy
champion as an answer to the challenge of socialism? Is it the freedom
to choose from a vast array of toothpaste brands? Or the creativity of
an architect following exact specifications to produce yet another
mansion for Kerry Packer? Or is creativity to be found flourishing where
painters and poets try to live off the dole as they make works which
most of society has neither the money nor the time to produce? Or is it
the "lonelieness which you call freedom," to borrow Billy Bragg's
beautiful phrase, to be found in doing the same tasks, day after day,
for most of your life?
Socialists
are unashamed in admitting that they don't value the current choice in
toothpastes. Nor do we feel particularly creative and liberated because
the rich choose occasionally to "patronise," in every sense of that
word, the arts. Capitalism suffocates the human spirit, and atrophies
the artist. But we think it can, and must, be changed.
By
arranging the way we work democratically, we have the power to end
alienation and boredom in the workforce. By controlling what we do (in
socialist-speak we call this "controlling the means of
production"), workers are involved in what they are doing - not
just being cogs in a capitalist's grand machinery. More than this, if we
organise economic life democratically, we don't need to do most of the
exploitative tasks running people's lives at the moment. If the driving
force behind our decisions is human need, and not the profit of the
bosses' which we toil towards at the moment, then time free for leisure
and human development increases enormously. Instead of being a way of
reaching the weekend, work will become something which extends and
develops our creativity.
This
probably sounds like utopian dreaming to most people. But the fact
remains that there examples in history where we have had brief glimpses
of this very way of running things occuring. In Paris in 1871 and 1968,
in Poland in 1980 and Portugal in 1974-75 and Russia in 1917, workers
and students have seized control and have run their lives along
democratic lines. And, far from being the drab and dull experience
bourgeois theorists of democracy claim socialism will produce, these
have been some of the most exciting times for ordinary people.
Lenin
called revolutions "festivals of the oppressed." During the Russian
revolutions of 1905 and 1917, a revolution in the arts occured, with
poets like Mayakovsky and the Soviet futurists completely revitalising
European literature, and the Formalists challenging the very foundations
of literary criticism. Ordinary workers in factories across the country
painted murals on previously sparse walls. In Paris in 1968 strikers
adopted the slogan "All Power to the Imagination," and engaged in
similar revolutionary artistic projects.
For us,
specialisation is one of the stifling effects of capitalism. Where
nowadays "amateurs" and "beginners" are dismissed
scornfully by a system which views things only in terms of profit and
production, socialists see the vision of a world where everyone is free
to unselfconciously experiment with dance, painting or whatever both
within and outside of the workplace as an exciting one. Most of the
important artistic figures of the 20th Century - from Brecht to Frieda
Kahlo, from Billy Bragg to Frank Sargeson - have found this Marxist
vision inspiring, too.
The
liberal democrat may want to apologise for capitalism, and wax lyrical
about its "rights" and "freedoms" and denounce
socialism lack of "creativity." The right to miss out on the
wonderous choice at the local supermarket due to a tight budget is one
few people would miss. The freedom to be enslaved by the meaningless
tasks assigned you completely undemocratically by some supervisor is one
most people would willingly concede.
The vast creativity unleashed
by waiting on idiots at the flash restaurant which charges enormous
prices and pays pitiful wages is hard to recognise because it simply
does not exist. But the idea of a society where we arrange our own way
of working, for need instead of someone else's profit, where we value
each other's efforts to increase the community of art and pleasure,
stands in stark contrast to the misery of the everyday. It's something
we'll fight to "keep the dream floating." Workers have gained this
in the past. We can again. Alone, capitalist society can seem depressing
and overwhelming. Together we can change it. It's an unfashionable
optimism, but one played out in the past: Together we can change the
world.
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