Understanding privilege

In several posts from the recent and not-so-recent past, I have been writing about inequality as a driver not only of sad human conditions, but also as a driver of ecological degradation, which comes full circle to negatively affect the human condition. (Please do not take me as an anthropocentrist.) Where there is inequality, there is privilege, and recently, I have been thinking about where I stand, where I come from, where my thoughts stem from...and that is a position of privilege.

I live in the uber-rich city of Ann Arbor, with access to information, data, nature, people, and thoughts found in only a handful of places in the world. I am "educated," come from a rich family, and am Indian. (As you probably know, as an ethnic group, Indians in the US are some of the most privileged people in the country.) My education, and the privilege it bestows on me, are things that cannot be glossed over. I wonder how my privilege affects how the unprivileged view me. This is complicated further by what I am thinking of doing after I am done with graduate school--do I do a post-doctoral fellowship at another elite institution? Or do I go into the streets? I have tried so far to balance my privilege with grassroots activism and writing, but I feel I must constantly think about the tensions between the two in order to be more effective in helping create lasting change.

Institutions of higher education--for all of the tremendous work being done by academics there about social injustice, inequality, and ecological degradation--can cut us off from the actuality of the world in two ways. First, many of them, like the University of Michigan, are located in economically rich parts of the country. Poverty and inequality are far away. Second, for all of the knowledge that academics have about science, society, and culture, I find that I see very few of them interacting in activist circles. Many are of the mindset of, "We'll do the academic stuff, and let that speak for itself." This, as I have previously, this can be dangerous and counterproductive to movements of change.

And I think privilege also adds another layer of complexity. Many of us have become so used to privilege that we cannot see what it is like to be unprivileged. If money lends itself to privilege and human worth, we do all that we can to earn it, spend it, and show it off. And so, if there is to be any significant progress towards dealing with ecological crises, we must recognise that the privileged must be ready to recognise their privilege, give it up, open themselves up to criticism, become the vulnerable. As Jean Vanier, the founder of the l'Arche movement has suggested in his conversation with Krista Tippett, we must form our society by taking into consideration the needs of those most vulnerable among us to be paramount. It is these people that need protection, not the powerful, who will spend millions of dollars just so that they can continue to earn billions of dollars, wasting our Earth, poisoning it with their toxins, and walking away from the scenes of crime as if they were entitled to our Earth's bounty, and no one or nothing else.

I believe that the first thing that we, the privileged, must do is to try to stop doing things just because we can. Therein lies a deep challenge. Just because I can buy a new iPhone every time a new one comes out doesn't mean that I do buy a new iPhone. Just because I have the luxury to travel far distances wherever and whenever I want to doesn't mean that I do take advantage of that luxury. Recognising the privilege in our lives, and understanding that this privilege is what contributes to the destruction of the Earth's capacities, this is what is important; this is what is necessary.

On those most vulnerable

I want to revisit a post from last November, A new kind of Pareto optimality, in light of a recent article I read in the Metro Times, Kick the needy. The article mentions that the State of Michigan will cut twelve thousand six hundred families from its welfare payroll, saving the state more than seventy-seven million dollars. Of course, this is in a state that has a flat-rate income tax. Now, this post isn't about taxes, but it is rather about the skewed priorities, and ways we interact with the things and people most vulnerable. Indeed, it is because they are vulnerable that we are not.

What do you think is the most vulnerable part of your life? Your health? Your paycheck? Your relationship with your parents? How do you deal with that vulnerability? Do you neglect it, like a cavity that you just don't want to take care of? Or do you tend to it, nurture it, and hope that it changes into something strong and healthy? I would hope the latter. What does vulnerability look like in our civic life, and of our collective lives? Our freedom to respectfully and graciously discuss and speak uncensored? Our public education? Our welfare system? Our Earth, its water, air, and land? We have viewed these vulnerabilities as distinct ones, ones which can be tended to without tending to the web of interactions. At the same time, it is clear that those things which are most vulnerable, particularly to exploitation, have been suppressed and oppressed in order to strengthen those already strong - I am talking about politicians, corporations, and those of us who have the privilege of daily food, shelter, and comfortable lives.

We have a tendency to only pay attention to the things that grab our attention - dazzling military machines, computers and touchscreen phones, reality television with personalities of people that should not serve as role models. This takes away from where attention is needed most - those that are hurting, truly hurting, because of this culture we've created for ourselves. When it comes to how our governments and corporations make decisions today, it is the interests of not the most vulnerable among us, not on the vulnerable grounds we stand on that give us food, but the interests of the most powerful among us that are front and centre.

Many people have an almost evolutionary sense of socioeconomic (or socioecological, more broadly) classes and strata. They think that just because they have made it, because they no longer live in polluted neighbourhoods or close to mountaintop removal sites, that everyone can do so, too. Many feel that those that suffer do so because of their own doing. Many people feel that the Earth is theirs for dominion, that there is some god-given right to be libertarian and use and degrade as they please. There is a lack of compassion in these people, and in this system, in this culture. When we see vulnerability, we don't ask Why? with open eyes, but rather we judge blindly, and continue old behaviour.

We must act in ways that first and foremost recognise vulnerability. We need to dig deeper than the surface and really sort the healthy from the not-so-healthy. And we must act on vulnerability. Because much of this is our own doing, and we do have the power to correct it. 

A new kind of Pareto optimality

Given any policy or allocation of resources, if one were to make a change to this policy or allocation, making at least one person better off without making anyone else worse off, the change is a Pareto improvement. If we keep making such Pareto improvements, we will reach a point at which no more improvements can be made. This is the point of Pareto optimality. In practice, it is likely that a person that is made worse off through a change in policy will be compensated monetarily, given some quantification of their worse position. This is how a lot of public policy is made. This may make sense from a neoclassical economic perspective, but it is such thinking that leads to people wanting to be compensated for interests that are clearly environmentally and socially harmful, or leads people to compensating other people with money for a harm that is incalculable. For example, monetary profits made from having a landfill close to people's residences might be divided in some part to people at those residences, to compensate for their distress at having the landfill close by.

But given continuing environmental harm, burgeoning populations all over the world, and the ever increasing size of human interventions in nature (larger dams, larger swaths of forest cleared for reaching oil sands, deeper mines), there is a likelihood that any choice that is potentially harmful to the environment and communities may have much larger consequences than in the past. However, it seems as if powerful interests are willing to increase monetary compensations so long as they can function viably. For example, the BP-Macondo Oil Spill in the Gulf of Mexico led to BP setting aside $20 billion to deal with settlement claims and cleaning the oil.

On an episode of Speaking of Faith (now known as Being), Jean Vanier talked about how it is essential that we lives our lives and make decisions with those most vulnerable among us at the centre of the decisions. Vanier gave the example of a new born child - the child is the most vulnerable member of a family or group, and once it exists, our decision making must accommodate the needs of this being. It is fascinating how this creature, although completely incapable of doing anything on its own, can control an entire group, its minds and hearts. This seems to throw a huge wrench in the Pareto way of thinking. Unfortunately, however, when it comes to how our governments and corporations make decisions today, it is the interests of not the most vulnerable among us, but the interests of the most powerful among us that are front and centre. Indeed, the Pareto condition is centred around those that are already well off compared to most of the rest. And then, there are the silent - nature and other living beings, who are potentially more vulnerable than the most vulnerable humans. What if we were to consider the interests of nature and ecosystems in the Pareto condition? If we are to constantly improve people's lives, can we do so without making the provider worse off?

 

V. Pareto