Because You Never Asked

(10/08)

     Any American with a moderate interest in politics will remember Bill Clinton’s clever use of the phrase, “it’s the economy, stupid”, to keep his campaign for the presidency focused. As the years have gone by and my indulgence in economic ambiguity has deepened, I’d say the more proper phrase should be “it’s the stupid economy, stupid”. I am now firmly convinced it is just this particular economic system, currently tyrannizing humanity, that is the root cause of whatever negativity is assailing us. If it is not modified in a timely fashion, we will be, as they say over breakfast, “toast”.

     I was recently away from my natural habitat during my annual visit in the northern lairs of my birth. One of my siblings has a summer home about 3 hours north of Manhattan and a weekend trek has become a regular fixture. A Saturday night tradition has developed, one whereby 4 or 5 of us pile in the car and head for “town”. Are we going to a restaurant, a movie, a few drinks, some partying --- ?

     Get real. We are going to Walmart.

     Now, in order to protect my integrity --- although I would not miss the chance to tag along --- I never go with the intention of buying anything. But I must come clean: 2 years ago I found one of those 3 oz. bottles of Listerine I’d been looking for since the Carter administration. Its purchase brought joy to my life. Even PCM can be smitten with the shopping disease.

     My main purpose in pursuing the Walmart experience is educational. I see it as a kind of anthropological expedition into the primitive culture of the global economy. There is much to learn in Walmart.

     My previous trips to small town Walmart --- all at this particular store, but there is a universal quality to the Walmart experience that precludes further reconnaissance --- have given forth with a variety of impressions. My initial visit stood out for the Chick-Fillet restaurant operating within the store and the correspondent girth such industrial food has produced in the prototypical Walmart shopper. Put simply, there are a lot of fat people in Walmart. Other visits have demonstrated the moribund state of retail in close proximity to the huge invader. Some of it still has a weak pulse. Some of it is tumbleweed gone. None of it is pretty and much of this has been talked about in other forums.

     What I’m about to say with regard to Walmart will not surprise most of you, although the quantification of the data could still be seen as useful. How I relate this data to the way in which our world functions is why this essay is taking form. It will show a perverse quality of the neo-liberal-global-economy that is rarely spoken about, unless you are traveling through the outer reaches of the Blogosphere where few dare to tread. My recent Walmart experience, along with an anecdote a good friend recently related to me, helped bring this perversion into better focus for me, a perversion I’d like to bring into better focus for the vast majority of people who have probably never thought about it.

     As is always the case, when my relatives scattered throughout the store in search of consumptive fulfillment, I began wandering around in search of the human condition. When I found myself in the “crappy plastic toy” section, which is a vast continent of soon to be broken artifacts meant to placate a child’s boredom for a day or two, an inexplicable impulse to see where all this junk came from took hold of me. This section of the store is like a Nebraska corn field stretching to the horizon. Thousands of shrill colored cardboard boxes with cellophane windows showing plastic monsters, tiny cars, mythical warriors, dump trucks, Barbie dolls, brigades of soldiers, cement mixers, ballet dancers, swords, daggers, scimitars, guns, rifles, Indiana Jones paraphernalia, Star Wars lasers and weaponry, water guns, bigger water guns, machine gun sets, houses, doggy puppets, fake cooking utensils --- I could go on.  After due deliberation, it can safely be said that 100% of all this schlock came from China. All of it. As my odyssey continued into other areas of the store, it soon became evident that the Chinese presence was never fully dormant, even if its omnipotence was not as dominant as in the “crappy plastic toy” section. In the clothing sections, although “made in China” was still noticeable, other very third world areas of the globe were more prevalent: India, Pakistan, Honduras, Egypt, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Bangladesh, Vietnam, Indonesia and others, all manufacturing things that used to be made in New England or the Piedmont regions of the American southeast. If we exclude foodstuffs, I’d say something like 75% of the merchandise in the store was made in China, and no more than 5% from the United States. Some big ticket items like refrigerators, TV’s and other electronic stuff, had their parts made in China but assembled in the United States. There was no instance of any merchandise made in any other country of the developed world. If we try to understand just how the global economy works, this is significant.

     The only place that seemed to have a preponderance of American made goods was the firearms section. Some things are just too sacred to outsource --- I guess.

     It wasn’t long before I actually started looking for something made in the United States. Upon wandering into the sporting goods section, I was confronted with an official NFL football, a genuine number with the famous Wilson label on it. If we exclude Canada, where a similar version of the same mayhem is played, what we in America call football is only played in one country. Ah hah! Here’s something that must be made in my “homeland”.

     I wonder what a Chinese worker must think as he or she puts the finishing touches on such a weird ball?

     Much of what has just been discussed has already been kicked around by other voices. We’ve heard about the loss of reliable, good paying manufacturing jobs; about the hardship this has caused, especially in small town America; about the general ripple effect of lower wages across the board; and even about the security threat such a diminished manufacturing base might entail. And then my good friend told me the anecdote mentioned above and a more lunatic aspect of all this became more obvious.

     I’ll call my friend Donald. As I write, the election season is in fifth gear. Due to his work, Donald occasionally delivers stuff to a man who is currently running for Sheriff in our county. He saw him the other day and struck up a conversation, the end of which being graced by the usual handshake. Unbeknownst to Donald, the candidate was holding something in his hand which he transferred to my friend’s possession. With the usual display of patriotic symbolism our political candidates umbilically attach themselves to, it turned out to be a metallic sliver of an American flag with the candidate’s name on it  Upon further examination, Donald saw that it was made in --- you only get one guess.

     The first thing one must remember is that this economically insignificant item, which requires no great know-how or special materials to make, is somebody’s business. It was manufactured in order for someone to make money.

     Fine. No problem there.

     But have you ever stopped to think how ludicrous it is that the most economically feasible way to get this mundane American flag into the hand of my friend Donald began on the other side of the globe? It was manufactured, put in a truck container, sent to a seaport, put on a gigantic container ship, sailed across the vast expanse of the world’s largest ocean, unloaded in another seaport, loaded onto another truck and distributed “from the gulf stream waters to the redwood forests”, this metallic American flag was “made for you and me”.

     And yet, from a business standpoint, this was the most advantageous way to do it. Maybe I’ve lost my mind, but that seems a remarkable waste of resources just to sell a friggin’ sliver of tin plated American flag. There is only one kind of value system that could accept such monumental waste, and it is this neo-liberal-global-economy-capitalism now being rammed up our asses by the Rupert Murdochs of the world. The fact that this makes sense within the framework of this value system is living proof of how perverted it is. It is premised upon the fact that the labor of those in certain parts of the globe is given a worth somewhat close to zero. This is bad enough, but then think of the exaggerated amount of resources being used to accomplish this, and it begins to enter the realm of sinful in more than one way.

     All these principles apply to the “crappy plastic toy” section and the rest of its kin in Walmart. What a “Rube Goldberg” has been mounted here, just to amuse junior for a day or two.