Tag Archives: book review

Zocalo: The Union of Their Dreams

Written at a time when everyone knows what it means to construct a public image, Miriam Pawel’s Union of Their Dreams: Power, Hope, and Struggle in Cesar Chavez’s Farm Worker Movement revisits the story of an iconic movement with an even more iconic leader. But instead of a “Chavez and Goliath” story, Pawel shows us exactly how many people make up the “little guy” and how they fought for better wages and working conditions.

Instead of offering another hagiography figuring Chavez as a saint, Pawel focuses on the experience of eight people who dedicated their lives to making a difference to the United Farm Worker cause. From Eliseo Medina, a grape-picker who rose in the ranks to become the second vice president of the union, to Chris Hartmire, a Presbyterian minister who headed the California Migrant Ministry when he began supporting the fledgling union, the characters give an intimate perspective of the victories and losses of the union’s fight.

Because of Pawel’s more democratic approach, Chavez appears less as revered leader than as a dedicated man with a keen sense for staging and a spellbinding public speaker. In the chapter describing Chavez’s influential fast of 1968, Pawel recounts that Chavez aimed to send a message to workers to be disciplined and willing to sacrifice. Coming in the middle of the emotionally-charged Delano Grape Strike, Chavez indeed picked the right time to send a message of non-violence and determination to those he had helped call to action.

Pawel’s book ultimately seeks to show that “the union was the workers,” and that this sentiment kept union morale solid. As the union started to be seen as synonymous with Cesar Chavez, union and leaders and the icon already had diverging visions for the organization. Faith corroded within the union, and its tenet that “people organize people” was replaced with impersonal strategies like using direct mail and, for the first time, using money to wield influence.

For those without a specific interest in labor practices, agriculture or Californian history, Pawel’s approach can seem dry where it might have been more literary, perhaps differentiating the subjects in her narrative with distinct voices in addition to her even-keeled reporter’s tone. Take her account of the Delano Grape Strike. As Pawel notes, at the height of the strike, 17 million Americans stopped eating grapes to support the union. Pawel recounts stories, for example, of those instrumental in organizing the strike and those who pleaded with supermarket buyers and shoppers not to buy grapes from the region until labor practices changed. It’s a story with victories and weathering losses presented as a collection of facts.

Still, the story of the farm worker’s movement reminds us that buying is not simply a matter of choosing between brands. Each purchase is a vote of support for the companies that put a particular item on the shelves — and for their labor practices. Cesar Chavez and the United Farm Workers also remind us that David can become Goliath, but no victory is set in stone.

Excerpt: “Those who once dedicated their lives to Cesar Chavez’s crusade now wince when they drive past farmworkers, hunched over rows of vegetables or trimming grapevines in the bitter cold. Once so certain they could change that world, the UFW alumni rue their failure. They applaud each other’s individual accomplishments, but lament the lost opportunity to collectively achieve more. The memories still cause pain.”

This was originally published at Zocalo Public Square, the coolest organization around.

Zocalo: The Rural Brain Drain

Hollowing Out the Middle: The Rural Brain Drain and What It Means for America
by Patrick J. Carr and Maria J. Kefalas

“Brain drain” was once good for America. The great minds — Albert Einstein, Thomas Mann — that fled fascism during the 1930s reaffirmed the idea of the U.S. as a land of opportunity, and a haven for scientific progress and intellectual advancement.

But today, a brain drain is hurting America’s heartland. The alarming picture that Patrick J. Carr and Maria J. Kefalas paint in Hollowing Out the Middle: The Rural Brain Drain and What It Means for America, a contemporary sociological study, indicates a troubled future for the U.S.

The heartland is often imagined to be the “real” America, where people live close to the land and value hard work. The well-being of the region — which supplies much of the nation’s natural resources and much of the world’s food supply — is crucial to the rest of the country, Carr and Kefalas argue. The heartland is likely to be the center of sustainable agriculture and a new “green economy,” which may well be the country’s ticket to prosperity as a post-industrial society.

Carr and Kefalas argue that unfortunately the bucolic idyll of the place is largely a myth and what is left is threatened with extinction. For over two decades, as Big Agriculture replaced most family farms, many areas have to depend entirely on one industry — one crisis can bring a town to its knees. Economic mobility is limited, leaving people in their 20s and 30s to flee their hometowns for opportunities elsewhere. Though their movement has in some cases spurred the growth of Midwestern cities, it leaves rural communities and small towns with a majority of residents heading towards retirement, leaving too few workers, taxpayers, and consumers to support the areas, and in the worst instances, too few children to fill a school.

To take a close look at this crisis, the authors moved to Ellis, Iowa — a small town in a state seen as an important place to kick off any presidential election, and a place where the agro-industrial economy is dying. (Ellis is the alias of a real Iowa town.) The two college professors stood out enough that local papers took an interest in them as something between celebrities and novelties. The authors note that they blended in more easily while conducting studies in the roughest streets of Philadelphia.

Closely observing a local high school, Carr and Kefalas identified four key groups of young people that define the crisis in the heartland: the achievers, the stayers, the seekers, and the returners. The groups form early in kids’ schooling, the authors note: “There is probably no other place in American society where the rules of class and status play out with more brutal efficiency than in the world of a country high school.” The achievers are the golden children who are actively encouraged to seek opportunities elsewhere — an early admonition that there is a limit to how good life gets in these towns. Unlike the other groups, achievers get preferential treatment. They can be late with assignments and miss classes, because even educators feel bound to pave their way into promising futures that must unfold elsewhere.

Stayers are those who will likely never leave their town, are never encouraged to dream beyond the town limits, and carry on in their family’s often working-class footsteps. They are earmarked by their elders as eternal locals. Seekers are hungry to experience life elsewhere, but have not been identified as achievers. As Iowan comedian Jake Johannsen explains it, “It took me a long time to realize that we were free to go. I was like twenty-one before I was like, ‘We can just leave?’” Finally, those whose lives in the larger world don’t take hold and who eventually return home are the returners. These people, prodigal or otherwise, are seen as the hope for reinvigorating small towns.

Towns have tried various strategies, like tax breaks, to turn more of the under-30 crowd into returners, and to create some economic and social diversity. But Carr and Kefalas’ find that small towns may not be ready for such change. When they shared their findings about brain drain to Ellis leaders, the researchers were met with a “but this is how we do things” attitude, even though the stakes are high — saving small towns and helping more Americans thrive. Though lively and informative, the results of this sociological study are grim.

Excerpt: “The myth of egalitarianism that permeates American consciousness insists that educational institutions offer objective measures of a student’s potential, and once talent gets measured and recognized, those employed by the schools reward diligence and achievement by providing opportunities for pull-yourself-up-by-the-bootstrap-style success. In reality, the system tends to place children of the elite in a position of privilege.”

Further ReadingCaught in the Middle: America’s Heartland in the Age of Globalism and Survival of Rural America: Small Victories and Bitter Harvests

Zocalo Public Square is an amazing non-profit dedicated to expanding the world of ideas. They published this review first. Visit them:  ZocaloPublicSquare.org

*Photo courtesy cwwycoff1.

Zocalo: I Am Nujood, Age 10 and Divorced

High-profile divorces are usually thrilling tabloid fodder. But in Nujood Ali’s case, the act of asking for a divorce — not to mention getting it — shook the Muslim world, caused the Yemeni parliament to raise the age of consent to 17 for boys and girls, and earned the then-10-year-old international press attention, including being named Glamour magazine’s Woman of the Year in 2008. It also gave Ali a chance to attend school, escape subjugation to sharaf — a patriarchal Bedouin honor code — and nourish dreams of one day becoming a lawyer and helping girls like herself.

Nujood is not only the subject of the story, but the narrator. She tells her tale with the assistance of co-author Delphine Minoui, a Le Figaro reporter who covers the Middle East. But the text does not go beyond Nujood’s childlike impressions of the world, sketching a general impression of an impoverished family with loving but strict parents. When one sister brings an unnamed shame upon the family, they move from their village to the capital. For Nujood, though she takes simple joy in the smells and bustle of Sana’a, it is all confusion and vague acceptance.

Poverty drives the family to turn to begging, and eventually, to arrange Nujood’s marriage. Her husband is three times her age, hails from the same village as her family but is still essentially a stranger. He promises not to touch the girl until after her first period; Nujood’s father repeats the thinly-veiled lie to console his wife. Nujood’s wedding night resembles nothing like her fantasies of a lush dress, celebration, and henna tattoos. She speaks of the comfort she would take in writing the one word she knows — her name—  during the cruel time with her husband. Throughout, the book repeats the Yemeni tribal proverb: “To guarantee a happy marriage, marry a nine-year-old girl.”

Unfortunately, the book’s childlike perspective doesn’t do the complexity of the story justice. I am Nujood reads like an extended women’s magazine article. Its simplicity — and its attachment of the young Nujood to a broad and complex phenomenon — make the story accessible. It is well-suited for a young adult audience looking for an introduction to the subject of feminism in the Islamic world. But one wishes for even a fraction of Anne Frank’s power of perception (though of course, Frank was older when she wrote her famed diary).

A redeeming point, at least, is that proceeds from the book go to supporting Nujood’s education and her family. If for this reason alone, I am Nujood and its author, whom Hillary Clinton has called “one of the greatest women I have ever seen,” deserve support.

Excerpt: “Looking around, I spy a group of men in olive-green uniforms. They must be policemen, or else soldiers. I’m shaking — if they see me, they might arrest me. A little girl running away from home, that just isn’t done. Trembling, I discreetly latch on to the first passing veil, hoping to get the attention of the unknown woman it conceals. Go on Nujood! It’s true you’re only a girl, but you’re also a woman, and real one, even though you’re still having trouble accepting that.”

Further Reading: Sisters in War and Yemen: Dancing on the Heads of Snakes.

Published originally at http://www.zocalopublicsquare.org/

*Photo courtesy eesti.

Zocalo Review: No Size Fits All

No Size Fits All, by Tom Hayes and Michael Malone

In the movies, all it takes to crack the in-crowd is one savvy make-over. If only it were so easy. In a consumer landscape where every crowd is the in-crowd — and the mass market made of many in-crowds — marketers need to shape-shift constantly, and hock their wares one niche at a time.

In No Size Fits All, Tom Hayes and Michael S. Malone suggest that this isn’t a new way of doing business. The mass market, they argue, is a mere industrial-era blip in the history of commerce. In today’s post-industrial digital age, we’re returning to a culture of “handselling,” that is, to a collection of business practices that date back to the earliest casbah, where merchants pitched their goods one customer at a time. Today’s online casbah is open 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, to anyone who is digitally enabled. In line with Chris Anderson’s “Long Tail” economic theory, this means that for the 80 percent of products that are not the blockbuster hits, the potential customer base is bigger than ever before.

Hayes and Malone take a timely look at how to market to today’s groups, and their argument is palatable even to the technophobe. They claim that we’re playing out pre-historic tribal behavior on a digital stage, still acting like our ancestors who “chose to band together in community rather than go it alone in a hostile world.” Today, people can join as many groups as they desire to suit as many personas as they wish to indulge. The ease with which one can join a group can make most online interactions seem transient and fleeting. Still, Hayes and Malone say, the “value of the social network is defined not only by who’s on it, but by who’s excluded.” Facebook may have hundreds of millions of users, but these users are divided into exclusionary groups — a circle of friends, fans of a particular person or product, groups — that, Hayes and Malone say, are something like sound-proof apartments overlooking Times Square on New Year’s Eve.

That’s not to suggest that Times Square doesn’t matter. The key to “mass handselling” is to find an instantly recognizable image — a logo, a famous face — that appeals to all the small groups in a unique way. Apple has managed to create a simple and unmistakable logo that means cool. And though it is grim to think of 9/11 as a branding moment, Hayes and Malone argue that even Al Qaeda, like Apple, benefits from being associated with the infamous image of planes hitting the World Trade Center. It’s one of the several unorthodox examples of successful marketing for the modern age that drives home the authors’ points — even to those who feel like they’ve heard it all before.

The authors look ahead to the future of mass handselling. There are problems for brands — as McDonald’s menus are more and more tailored to local markets, for example, when does a McDonald’s restaurant stop reflecting the McDonald’s brand? But the future could be especially bright for much smaller sellers. Hayes and Malone imagine a world where indigenous craftsmen can rent web-enabled devices to list their hand-made rugs online, and find a revenue stream where perhaps there was none before. It’s an interesting note for a book on marketing to strike. As sellers and buyers grow ever closer together, marketers can whittle as many new spears as they want. The rest of us have connections to make.

No Size Fits All: From Mass Marketing to Mass Handselling
by Tom Hayes and Michael S. Malone

Reviewed for Zocalo Public Square here.

Further Reading: Jump Point: How Network Culture is Revolutionizing Business and Community: The Structure of Belonging

Zocalo Review: Sisters in War

Iraq

Sisters in War, by Christina Asquith

Sisters in War reads like a serial drama, kicking off with the fall of Saddam Hussein in a time of naïve hope. Christina Asquith’s breezy style still captures the complexities of the 2003 invasion and its aftermath, particularly how one can be anti-Republican, think that war always has an especially negative impact on women, and still see the good in clearing the way for a new Iraq.

Asquith closely follows three women who represent different political perspectives. Zia is a recent university graduate and the go-getting daughter of a progressive Baghdad family with hopes for free speech and equality post-Saddam. Her family is supportive of her public career with the American-run Iraqi Media Network, even when her professional and romantic alliances with the occupiers put their lives in danger.

Lieutenant A. Heather Coyne works to help Iraqi women join public life but finds herself hindered by military bureaucracy. Aggravated by the casual sexist remarks and ass-slapping she endures in the military, her commitment to empowering women grows. Though untrained in aid work and lacking any real knowledge of Iraqi culture, Heather charged with distributing a large government grant to establish Baghdad’s first women’s center.

Heather seeks the help of Manal Omar, an Iraqi-American NGO worker who has ingratiated herself with Baghdad’s locals. Manal, who chose to take the veil to her Iraqi mother’s dismay, makes slow progress in her mission to encourage women to drive their humanitarian agenda: the needs of women across the spectrum of Islam seem irreconcilable, and women’s rights workers are targets of violence. Understanding that they need each other, Heather and Manal set aside the usual rift between U.S. military and aid workers.

As part of Asquith’s intimate tableau, the personal impact of events such as the decapitation of American businessman Nick Berg by Islamic extremists, the drafting of a constitution, and the invasion itself hit in the gut. Vibrant peripheral characters — an uncompromising American aid worker, the contractors who find it easier to be in a war zone than to deal with problems at home, and Zia’s string of unlikely Iraqi suitors — flesh out the experience of life for women in Iraq until 2009.

But it’s Zia’s quiet younger sister who makes the biggest impression. Like all the true victories in this book, hers is personal, not political. Nunu’s story of self-realization is a tender one — from her excitement at the arrival of the Americans (and the girlish dream of being swept away by a soldier) to falling into deep depression after uncontrolled violence against women on the streets forces her to stay indoors. She sits uncomfortably between admiring her sister’s independence and wanting a traditional feminine role. With the help of a newly-aired TV show called Oprah, she becomes her own mistress.

Asquith challenges stereotypes by showing how Americans and Iraqis perceive each other and why. As time passes, the warmly welcomed American liberators are viewed with increasing suspicion. With a 70% unemployment rate and political tensions high, Islamic extremism and conservatism grow more prominent in Iraqi civic life. In turn, the U.S. occupiers treat all Iraqis as potentially violent and untrustworthy. Lost in the mire is the generation of Iraqis, like Zia’s parents, that embraced Western attitudes before the 1963 rise of the Ba’ath party and hoped to participate in the culture again.

In this political and social maelstrom, Asquith finds the silver lining in small triumphs of feminism.

Zocalo Review: Sexism in America

Does Sexism in America really show the truth about women’s lives in the new millennium? The reader sympathetic to the idea of gender equality hopes the answer is no.

But it’s hard to brush off Barbara J. Berg’s clear language and arguments about how sexism is ruining the future of America. Even those reluctant to call themselves feminists may be spurred into action.

sexism-america-alive-well-ruining-barbara-j-berg-phdIn 23 bite-sized chapters, Berg traces the women’s movement from the 1950s through the Reagan administration and 9/11 by examining social, economic and cultural issues that, she argues, indicate that sexism is indeed alive and well. Her idea of sexism is a robust one — she examines blatant discrimination against women. But she also makes the more common, less damning charge that the media depicts women in ways that aren’t exactly inspiring for young girls.

Berg begins her analysis with World War II, when the work of war required new thinking — and new government policy — about women. But the “There’s not a job a woman cannot do” ethos of the time melted away with the next decade’s return to domesticity, typified, Berg says, by television shows like Father Knows Best. The 1960s — well-trodden ground in histories of feminism, of course — may have reversed that, but the spirit of the time, Berg says, seems to have ebbed.

Berg, a historian and activist, wonders how women today managed to lose sight of the trials of last century, and those that linger today. Part of the problem, her research shows, is that people seem to have forgotten how women’s rights were secured in the first place. Roe v Wade seems essentially a catchword today, and the life-threatening measures women took before are distant memories.

As Berg reminds us that the personal is still political, she offers some concrete, and harrowing, findings about the status of women today. Catherine Hill of the American Association of American Women is quoted as saying, “One trend I’m noticing is the feminization of certain professions and specialties, resulting in lowering their status and salaries.” In addition to this subtle form of discrimination, Berg also observes that younger and more attractive women are favored over older women. As a result, older women don’t get into training programs, have less upward mobility, and get fewer raises. The resultant lower pension benefits keep women over 65, the majority of whom have social security as their sole income, particularly vulnerable to economic shifts.

Berg makes a strong case for the idea that pregancy can spell redundancy in major corporations. Berg finds Bloomberg to be a particularly bad offender. One interviewee recounted that after announcing her pregancy, her commitment to her CEO position  was questioned, and she suffered “demotions, decreases in compensation, and retaliation after I complained to human resources.”

Berg offers a fairly broad take on women in contemporary pop culture. Dora the Explorer and Hannah Montana notwithstanding, Berg argues that female empowerment is hard to find onscreen. Female solidarity is a punch line, or an impossibility, in Mean Girls and Gossip Girl. Chick lit and chick flicks overwhelmingly insist that careers preclude personal happiness for women. Hannah Montana may have the best of both worlds, but Berg leads us to believe that she is one of few.

There’s only some hope in the toy market which, Berg argues, shapes identity for girls. The Liv dolls, the newly-released, non-trampy, go-getting follow-up to the Bratz brand, may well be a sign that the times are changing. But Berg doesn’t mention them — likely because they’re fresh off the assembly line—and until they prove their mettle against the Bratz phenomenon, the jury is out. Another contender for the Bratz’ throne are the Disney princesses, though they’re no Liv. As Berg notes, marketing them all together as a brand may have been a stroke of ad man genius, but the princess archetype isn’t exactly great for girls either. Barbie’s plastic proportions may be superhuman, but at least she had goals and dreams — lots of them. Lawyer, doctor, astronaut, ballerina….

Excerpt: “[S]sexism has become camp. It’s riotous and cool. It’s chest-thumping fun, powerful, and self-reinforcing. The media exhibits all the heady recklessness of the old boys club, dumping over women to make men feel strong and in control.”

Further Reading: When Everything Changed: The Amazing Journey of American Women from 1960 to the Present and Full Frontal Feminism: A Young Woman’s Guide to Why Feminism Matters

*Photo courtesy magandafille. Reviewed by Saskia Vogel for Zocalo Public Square