The
Last Gasp of American Democracy
By
Chris Hedges
6
January, 2014
This
is our last gasp as a democracy. The state’s wholesale intrusion
into our lives and obliteration of privacy are now facts. And the
challenge to us—one of the final ones, I suspect—is to rise up in
outrage and halt this seizure of our rights to liberty and free
expression. If we do not do so we will see ourselves become a nation
of captives.
The
public debates about the government’s measures to prevent
terrorism, the character assassination of Edward Snowden and his
supporters, the assurances by the powerful that no one is abusing the
massive collection and storage of our electronic communications miss
the point. Any state that has the capacity to monitor all its
citizenry, any state that has the ability to snuff out factual public
debate through control of information, any state that has the tools
to instantly shut down all dissent is totalitarian. Our corporate
state may not use this power today. But it will use it if it feels
threatened by a population made restive by its corruption, ineptitude
and mounting repression. The moment a popular movement arises—and
one will arise—that truly confronts our corporate masters, our
venal system of total surveillance will be thrust into overdrive.
The
most radical evil, as Hannah
Arendt
pointed out, is the political system that effectively crushes its
marginalized and harassed opponents and, through fear and the
obliteration of privacy, incapacitates everyone else. Our system of
mass surveillance is the machine by which this radical evil will be
activated. If we do not immediately dismantle the security and
surveillance apparatus, there will be no investigative journalism or
judicial oversight to address abuse of power. There will be no
organized dissent. There will be no independent thought. Criticisms,
however tepid, will be treated as acts of subversion. And the
security apparatus will blanket the body politic like black mold
until even the banal and ridiculous become concerns of national
security.
I
saw evil of this kind as a reporter in the Stasi
state of East Germany. I was followed by men, invariably with crew
cuts and wearing leather jackets, whom I presumed to be agents of the
Stasi—the Ministry for State Security, which the ruling Communist
Party described as the “shield and sword” of the nation. People I
interviewed were visited by Stasi agents soon after I left their
homes. My phone was bugged. Some of those I worked with were
pressured to become informants. Fear hung like icicles over every
conversation.
The
Stasi did not set up massive death camps and gulags. It did not have
to. The Stasi, with a network of as many as 2 million informants in a
country of 17 million, was everywhere. There were 102,000 secret
police officers employed full time to monitor the population—one
for every 166 East Germans. The Nazis broke bones; the Stasi broke
souls. The East German government pioneered the psychological
deconstruction
that torturers and interrogators in America’s black sites, and
within our prison system, have honed to a gruesome perfection.
The
goal of wholesale surveillance, as Arendt wrote in “The Origins of
Totalitarianism,” is not, in the end, to discover crimes, “but to
be on hand when the government decides to arrest a certain category
of the population.” And because Americans’ emails, phone
conversations, Web searches and geographical movements are recorded
and stored in perpetuity in government databases, there will be more
than enough “evidence” to seize us should the state deem it
necessary. This information waits like a deadly virus inside
government vaults to be turned against us. It does not matter how
trivial or innocent that information is. In totalitarian states,
justice, like truth, is irrelevant.
The
object of efficient totalitarian states, as George Orwell understood,
is to create a climate in which people do not think of rebelling, a
climate in which government killing and torture are used against only
a handful of unmanageable renegades. The totalitarian state achieves
this control, Arendt wrote, by systematically crushing human
spontaneity, and by extension human freedom. It ceaselessly peddles
fear to keep a population traumatized and immobilized. It turns the
courts, along with legislative bodies, into mechanisms to legalize
the crimes of state.
The
corporate state, in our case, has used the law to quietly abolish the
Fourth and Fifth amendments of the Constitution, which were
established to protect us from unwarranted intrusion by the
government into our private lives. The loss of judicial and political
representation and protection, part of the corporate coup d’état,
means that we have no voice and no legal protection from the abuses
of power. The recent
ruling
supporting the National Security Agency’s spying, handed down by
U.S. District Judge William H. Pauley III, is part of a very long and
shameful list of judicial decisions that have repeatedly sacrificed
our most cherished constitutional rights on the altar of national
security since the attacks of 9/11. The courts and legislative bodies
of the corporate state now routinely invert our most basic rights to
justify corporate pillage and repression. They declare that massive
and secret campaign donations—a form of legalized bribery—are
protected speech under the First Amendment. They define corporate
lobbying—under which corporations lavish funds on elected officials
and write our legislation—as the people’s right to petition the
government. And we can, according to new laws and legislation, be
tortured or assassinated or locked up indefinitely by the military,
be denied due process and be spied upon without warrants. Obsequious
courtiers posing as journalists dutifully sanctify state power and
amplify its falsehoods—MSNBC does this as slavishly as Fox
News—while also filling our heads with the inanity of celebrity
gossip and trivia. Our culture wars, which allow politicians and
pundits to hyperventilate over nonsubstantive issues, mask a
political system that has ceased to function. History, art,
philosophy, intellectual inquiry, our past social and individual
struggles for justice, the very world of ideas and culture, along
with an understanding of what it means to live and participate in a
functioning democracy, are thrust into black holes of forgetfulness.
The
political philosopher Sheldon
Wolin,
in his essential book “Democracy Incorporated,” calls our system
of corporate governance “inverted totalitarianism,” which
represents “the political coming of age of corporate power and the
political demobilization of the citizenry.” It differs from
classical forms of totalitarianism, which revolve around a demagogue
or charismatic leader; it finds its expression in the anonymity of
the corporate state. The corporate forces behind inverted
totalitarianism do not, as classical totalitarian movements do,
replace decaying structures with new structures. They instead purport
to honor electoral politics, freedom of expression and the press, the
right to privacy and the guarantees of law. But they so corrupt and
manipulate electoral politics, the courts, the press and the
essential levers of power as to make genuine democratic participation
by the masses impossible. The U.S. Constitution has not been
rewritten, but steadily emasculated through radical judicial and
legislative interpretation. We have been left with a fictitious shell
of democracy and a totalitarian core. And the anchor of this
corporate totalitarianism is the unchecked power of our systems of
internal security.
Our
corporate totalitarian rulers deceive themselves as often as they
deceive the public. Politics, for them, is little more than public
relations. Lies are told not to achieve any discernable goal of
public policy, but to protect the image of the state and its rulers.
These lies have become a grotesque form of patriotism. The state’s
ability through comprehensive surveillance to prevent outside inquiry
into the exercise of power engenders a terrifying intellectual and
moral sclerosis within the ruling elite. Absurd notions such as
implanting “democracy” in Baghdad by force in order to spread it
across the region or the idea that we can terrorize radical Islam
across the Middle East into submission are no longer checked by
reality, experience or factually based debate. Data and facts that do
not fit into the whimsical theories of our political elites, generals
and intelligence chiefs are ignored and hidden from public view. The
ability of the citizenry to take self-corrective measures is
effectively stymied. And in the end, as in all totalitarian systems,
the citizens become the victims of government folly, monstrous lies,
rampant corruption and state terror.
The
Romanian poet Paul
Celan
captured the slow ingestion of an ideological poison—in his case
fascism—in his poem “Death Fugue”:
Black
milk of dawn we drink it at dusk
we drink it at noon and at
daybreak we drink it at night
we drink it and drink it
we are
digging a grave in the air there’s room for us all
We,
like those in all emergent totalitarian states, have been mentally
damaged by a carefully orchestrated historical amnesia, a
state-induced stupidity. We increasingly do not remember what it
means to be free. And because we do not remember, we do not react
with appropriate ferocity when it is revealed that our freedom has
been taken from us. The structures of the corporate state must be
torn down. Its security apparatus must be destroyed. And those who
defend corporate totalitarianism, including the leaders of the two
major political parties, fatuous academics, pundits and a bankrupt
press, must be driven from the temples of power. Mass street protests
and prolonged civil disobedience are our only hope. A failure to rise
up—which is what the corporate state is counting upon—will see us
enslaved
Chris
Hedges spent nearly two decades as a foreign correspondent in Central
America, the Middle East, Africa and the Balkans. He has reported
from more than 50 countries and has worked for The Christian Science
Monitor, National Public Radio, The Dallas Morning News and The New
York Times, for which he was a foreign correspondent for 15 years.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.