Tag Archives: zocalo public square

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.

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Thank you, Swati and Zocalo Public Square!

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