Questioning our Questions

Koji Pingry, University of Washington, Department of Geography

In our American society it is incredibly hard for us to break out of the comforts we have come to know and expect. Many problems exist across different scales but because of our desire to maintain a certain lifestyle, the questions we have to ask ourselves about these important issues allows us to seek the safe answers. For example, what can I do about the large-scale destruction of the natural environment? If you are part of the modern American middle class the answers are simple. You can buy organic, drive a hybrid car, use reusable bags, invest in sustainable development, etc. Personal responsibility and individualism are a major part of our American character and the questions we ask about how to solve societal issues like environmental degradation or poverty reflects these ideals. As individuals we have the responsibility and power to make a difference.

The individualistic questions we ask produce solutions that both assign and alleviate guilt. After many documentaries, lectures, or books on the issue of environmental degradation we are posed with the rhetorical question “what can you do to help?” The responsibility for the problem here is placed on you the individual and it now falls on you solve it. The task of ending climate change for any individual is impossible. Unless everybody who is currently living beyond their means drastically changes their way of life, the environment will continue to suffer. Because the responsibility now lies with the individual as opposed to the society, we are given ways that we can potentially help the environment, thus alleviating guilt, without having to give up all that we have come to know.

Slovaj Zizek calls this phenomenon cultural capitalism, referring to how we have now combined the act of saving the environment with consumerism. Buying green is posited as the solution. The concept of developing sustainably, or consuming environmentally friendly products, allows us, referring to the middle class in America, to not move away from what we have understood as the norm while feeling good about our choices. The harsh reality though is that no matter how much we have supposedly changed our buying habits, no matter how green the BP website looks, the environment remains in crisis and continues to worsen each year. The problem here lies more with the original question asked then the solutions that came out of it.

I use the example of the environment because it is an issue that is relevant to all people. The environment is an issue that is frequently talked about and on the political scale there is a general consensus that climate change is a major global concern. Discussions surrounding poverty and homelessness tend to be more contentious, especially here in the United States. These seemingly unrelated issues have at least one thing in common. Mainstream conversations of these topics are dominated by individualistic questions despite the fact that these are collective issues.

Growing up in Seattle my entire life, I have become completely desensitized to homelessness. I have come to know homelessness as an accepted, inevitable part of society. Again, because of our individualistic character, and the media representation of the poor, the responsibility for the poor and homeless to obtain the American dream and become part of the idealized middle class falls on the individual. At the most basic level, the middle class here is portrayed as self-made, hard-working, homeowners, those who support a family, send their kids to college and then retire. In America, where the ‘pull yourself up by the bootstraps’ mentality dominates public discourse, those not living in poverty can ignore the system that advantages some people while oppressing others. Those in the middle class can ignore the privileges they have enjoyed in order to succeed in this society. Despite this cultural norm, there is a sense of subconscious guilt that remains part of the middle class identity, the guilt of over-perceived inequality and unequal life chances. This feeling results in the often-asked question; how can I help the homeless? Naturally, the response is the homeless shelter.

This past year I spent time volunteering in a youth shelter and I understand that shelters provide a necessary, important service. The fact of the matter is, there are over 3,000 people a night that sleep outside in the city of Seattle. I have seen the shelter act as a community for young people to support one another. I have experienced the shelter as a positive space of encounter between very different people. Shelters provide a night of warmth and food for many people that may not have access to these on a daily basis. I really came to appreciate the kinds of connections that can be made and the potential for alliance building among volunteers and guests.

But I have also seen the shelter act as a solution for the middle class because it both alleviates the guilt that I described above for the volunteers and donors while providing this necessary service, in much the same way that “going green” does. The concept of cultural capitalism is something I thought about a lot during my time volunteering. There is a general feeling amongst the volunteers that we are doing a good thing but less attention is placed on whether it is enough. As a society if you donate to non-profits you are rewarded with the portrayal that you are a benevolent individual and also tax breaks. As opposed to the shelter being a service that is provided by our local government supported collectively through tax dollars, it is a place that is funded and supported through the kindness of our hearts. We are taught to feel good about ourselves when we donate two dollars to charity as we buy our groceries as opposed to understanding that we all have a communal responsibility to take care of one another.

I found in my experience that even though the shelter could sometimes be a place where alliances across class were built, it was also a place where people’s stereotypes were reaffirmed and their own self-identity reassured. Along with that, I struggled knowing that the shelter was never going to be the solution to end poverty even though it is addressing a desired need. For most people the shelter is not a place to question our privilege. It does not make us question the structural issues that make these shelters a necessity in the first place.

This is not to put down volunteers, donors, or shelters. Again, they are serving a need in the community that is absolutely necessary and many are doing a fantastic job of providing these services. But in the same way that we know using reusable bags really do not do anything for the environment, I think most people know that homeless shelters are not ever going to end homelessness. They are a Band-Aid fix. They are addressing a symptom of our American social, economic system and not the causes. So if we understand that homeless shelters aren’t actually going to end homelessness, that driving hybrid cars wont save the environment, why do we continue to fixate on these solutions? It is because these solutions don’t disrupt our sense of security, our self-identity. It is because the original questions we ask ourselves look to what changes we as individuals can make as opposed to what we can do collectively as a society. It is because both the solutions and questions do not force us to critically reflect on our own lifestyles and how incredibly unsustainable they are environmentally, economically, and socially.

Addressing issues this big takes a long time. The solutions are not something that will arise over night. And because of that at this moment the solutions are not as important as the questions. In conclusion I suggest a few different questions with the goal of moving away from an individualist approach, toward a more relational one: How do the advantages those who are privileged enjoy work to reinforce the cyclical nature of poverty, and continue to marginalize a large segment of our population? How can the privileged deconstruct some of these power structures so that poverty does not need to be a normal part of society? How can those with privilege set aside their own desires, and support movements that may not be directly advantageous to them (i.e. the 15 now campaign, or universal health care)? What would a society look like, what would a shelter look like, if these were the questions being asked?

Fighting with Family and Seeking Transformation through Care

Emma Slager, University of Washington, Department of Geography

Earlier this year, I attended a family wedding that took me into the company of uncles, aunts, cousins, and siblings. My family is big and rowdy with diverse life situations and political persuasions, and as is our custom, we did a lot of arguing about politics during the weekend we spent together, drawing a few concerned glances from strangers around us. As our talk ranged from health care to public transit and gentrification, I grew frustrated. I was unable to get my uncle to see my perspective about the Affordable Care Act, unable to convince my aunt that private bus systems set up by tech companies in San Francisco and Seattle might do more harm than good.

And yet, I think most of us left the weekend feeling closer to one another than when we’d entered it. In coming together from all over the country to support a family member getting married, we cared for one another. We made food for each other, gave one another rides, helped set up for the wedding and cleaned up after the reception, talked together about our struggles and joys, offered advice and compassion.

Reflecting on the experience of fighting with family, I wonder if the difficult conversations are worth it. Is it possible to build progressive change by working through our ideas together while we care for and support one another?

Alliance politics suggests that it is, that we can productively seek change through everyday interactions of care and support, rather than through politics of antagonism. In a speech titled “Bodies in Alliance and the Politics of the Street,” Judith Butler considers street protest in relation to the everyday bodily dimensions of collective action. Referencing protests in Tahrir Square during the Arab Spring, she said:

“Sleeping on that pavement was not only a way to lay claim to the public, to contest the legitimacy of the state, but also quite clearly, a way to put the body on the line in its insistence, obduracy and precarity, overcoming the distinction between public and private for the time of revolution. In other words, it was only when those needs that are supposed to remain private came out into the day and night of the square, formed into image and discourse for the media, did it finally become possible to extend the space and time of the event with such tenacity to bring the regime down.”

Butler here urges us to do away with a distinction between public space of action and private space of bodily support in our analyses of political action, between spaces of production and spaces of reproduction. Political action must always be supported by everyday action, and indeed, it is the carrying out of the daily activities of support—eating, sleeping, using the bathroom, attending to medical needs—in public spaces, as much as the ‘political’ activities of chanting, building barriers, and opposing security forces that make street protests effective struggles for revolution.

Although Butler does not draw on care theory in her speech, her discussion of the support that undergirds political action reminded me of care theory and of Joan Tronto’s article “Care as a Basis for Radical Political Judgments.” Where Butler examines the everyday work that supports public protest, Tronto considers the implication of making political judgments based on everyday care relations. Tronto defines care as “everything we do to maintain, continue, and repair our ‘world’ so that we can live in it as well as possible” (142). Care is ubiquitous, evident in the ways that we care about, take care of, and give and receive care in our daily interactions with people and places. Care theory sees individuals not as rational actors who make decisions based on self-interest but as people “constantly enmeshed in relationships of care” (142). Therefore, unlike political judgments based on abstract and universalized principles of fairness or ‘justice,’ political judgments based on care take account of the needs and capacities of those involved in the specific and concrete situation at hand.

Both Butler’s and Tronto’s arguments hinge on erasing the distinction between public and private, on recognizing the ubiquitous, everyday relationships of care and support that undergird any kind of public politics. All of us are entangled in various communities and institutions in which we enact relationships of care, including our families, neighborhoods, workplaces, faith communities, or schools. How might we therefore go about building alliances within the institutions and communities in which we find ourselves by paying greater attention to care and the work of mutual support in order to transform our communities and our worlds? Below are some ideas of places to start.

Productively critique the power structures operating within a given community and in the broader systems in which the community is situated.

Sometimes, we need to call one another out. Our communities reinforce privilege and disadvantage, they contain and produce hierarchies, and they silence dissent. It is important that we not ignore these dynamics within our communities but that we challenge them from within. This is not easy work, and it can easily be misinterpreted as an attack on the community. However, it is essential work to do. Tronto writes, “in a society that took care seriously, people would perceive greater and wider forms of care as within their self-interest” (146). One way in which we can seek to transform our communities is to help those we are in relationship with to affirm and practice such greater and wider forms of care.

Strengthen the voices of the marginalized within the community.

This involves a process of stepping up and stepping back as we recognize that different members of any community are of course differently situated. When we find ourselves in marginalized positions, we can speak back to those in positions of power and proclaim our equality. And, understanding that marginalization also produces great vulnerability, when we find ourselves in positions of privilege, we can push back against that privilege. In this effort, I have found these suggestions from Mia McKenzie (http://www.blackgirldangerous.org/2014/02/4-ways-push-back-privilege/) to be wise and helpful.

Introduce new voices into the community.

A third way to seek transformation is to introduce new voices into the community. We can demand initiatives to increase enrollment of underrepresented minorities in our universities, and we can welcome marginalized neighbors as full members into our faith communities. We can build long-term partnerships across neighborhood groups to fight for policies that benefit all of our cities’ residents, and we can introduce our disparate family members, friends, and coworkers to one another, asking them to care for each other across lines of difference. At their worst, communities are sites of exclusion, but an alliance politics premised on care requires inclusive communities that are open to being transformed by new members.

These strategies are of course limited and insufficient, and it is vital to remember that we ourselves need to be transformed as well. As Tronto warns, we must not romanticize care. But in caring for others and in being cared for, we not only help sustain ourselves and our communities, but we also lay foundations for political change built through everyday alliances.