Karl Marx claimed that a communist society “makes it possible for me to do one thing today and another tomorrow, to hunt in the morning, fish in the afternoon, rear cattle in the evening, do critical theory after dinner, just as I have a mind, without ever becoming hunter, fisherman, herdsman or critic.”
Hmm. Well, actually-existing communist society didn’t quite pan out that way. There are critics today (e.g., Italian critic Bifo Berardi) who envisage a “second coming” of communism in a form the young Marx might have recognized; but if Berardi and other Europeans bring that about over yonder, we’ll never hear about it, here in the USA. Even if we still have a free press, they won’t get any better at reporting news from outside the USA than they are now. For me, the Marx quote raises another possibility: that we all may have to get good at doing a lot of different things, just in order to maintain any kind of life that might be desirable enough to continue living. Because I don’t think we’re going to be able to count on the federal and state governments to come to our rescue, as the S continues to HTF. It’s sauve qui peut. And the ones who peut are going to be the ones who (a.) stick together and (b.) develop know-how. Some people already do this. The accountant whose father taught them to remodel apartments. The engineer who gardens. The landscaper who’s into pickling, canning, preserving, fermenting. A hardware store employee who also makes clothes. Construction work, repairs, food, food preserving, clothes — these are things that most everybody needs, to one degree or another. At present, in the global north, those who can afford them have them. But with the combined effects of flood, fire, drought, water and food shortages, economic crash, etc., that may not continue to be the case, in the foreseeable future. People may have to trade. Or people may have to do what farmers have always done — learn how to do it all. (And was it Duncan or Olson who said that a poet really does have to know everything?) I’ve read that 40% of Russia’s food is produced in dacha gardens by non-professional gardeners. That’s a very good thing for the Russians. They’ve traded repressive state socialism for repressive state oligarchy, which didn’t improve the economy or environment. The small mammals have to dodge the dinosaurs and forage for whatever food they find. And, somehow, people carry on. All of which leads me to what happens in the evening, after dinner (if there is one). That’s when Marx imagines “doing critical theory” or “critiquing” (or, in other translations, “being a critical critic” — he’s lampooning the Hegelians there). But the point is that there is some free time, but maybe not much. If there are no professional, full-time cattle-ranchers, fisherman, or critics, presumably there won’t be full-time writers or teachers either. Writers have to earn their bread. Some do this by working as physicians, insurance executives, water quality engineers, secretaries. But many, maybe most, earn their living by teaching, mostly in public institutions. While teaching and committee work and busy work can leave little time for writing, they do allow one contact with literature and writing as part of one’s daily work. But the pincers of neo-liberalism and right-wing populism are cracking public education like a nut. At the postsecondary level, there are precious few openings, with 100s lined up for each one. How many teaching jobs will there be, five years from now? Most people doing it today can barely make a living anyway. When will it make more sense to grow your own food and build your own shelter? Or barter with yr neighbors for same? It’s hard to imagine somebody like me — not at all handy, no green thumb, not good at negotiating — living in a world like that. But a crisis can cause one to surprise oneself with one’s own heretofore untested resilience. In any case, whatever writing goes on is going to happen in a very concentrated amount of time by people who are tired from a day’s physical activity but are very very committed to what they are doing.* As a writer friend once said to me, “It was OK in grad school to have fun with word-play and sound experiments, but nowadays [they’re in a very tough, tiring, non-teaching job], it’s hard to get motivated unless it’s something really important.” Or something to that effect. The point being that, the less time and energy you have for making art, the more likely it is that what you write will be central to your everyday life concerns. (Toni Morrison and how many other writers have arisen hours before dawn to write before the kids are awake.) I can tell you that if I’ve been out hunting, fishing, and ranching all day (& I’ve only done one of those three activities), the more likely I am to cut to the chase, when I have a minute to write. The less likely I am to write just to show off; the less likely I am to let my conscious mind get in my way. “Is anything central?” Well, this is one way to find out. And maybe whatever literature might result will be better for it. ________________ * Save for the trust-fund kids, perhaps (who will make it a point of publishing the marginalized voices of the unemployed people in the dust-bowl heartlands). But they’ll wring their hands in solidarity and decry the injustice of it all, at least. (As long as they haven’t been “cancelled.”)
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June 2021
Kristin Prevallet Author/Editor
I'm a writer & teacher in Lawrence, Kansas who actually believes the scientists. I wrote a book of poems called Of Some Sky that seems to have something to do with all this. |