the rhetoric of globalization: going out on a limb

I'm reading a book for a class on Neo-liberalism and the movements against it. The author is out to illustrate, in particular, that movements protesting globalization aren't just "against" it (as many of their critics claim), but "for" something else-- that they, too, have a vision of a global community, but that it prioritizes human rights rather than trade. The movements against globalization envision a peaceful global society/community, based on the principle of 'solidarity' rather than a worldwide economy based on consumerism.

This first chapter provides a general overview of the rhetoric and narrative used by each side of the debate:

On the pro-globalization side, it's

"Globalization is inevitable and irreversible. There is no real alternative to this model. There are sacrifices and inequalities now, in the short term, but globalization will ultimately lead to a higher standard of living for everyone in the world."

On the dissenting side, it's [this is actually a quote from the book]:

"Solidarity is the awareness of a common humanity and global citizenship, and an awareness of the responsibilities which go with it...It is based on the recognition that in an interdependent world, poverty or oppression anywhere is a threat to prosperity and stability everywhere."

That last quote, especially the "interdependent world" seemed to have an almost spiritual potentiality. Specifically, these words reminded me of the Hindu/Buddhist/New Age idea that (in the language of the latter) "we are all one." I wonder how much the birth of the movements against globalization were shaped by the 60's counter-culture movements, and, in turn, their turn towards spirituality informed by Buddhism and Hinduism. It seems possible that the vision and rhetoric of universal human rights in the past half-decade has, if not consciously borrowed from this spirituality, at least been subconsciously expressing its sentiment. But then again, the vaguely-spiritual notion that we are all connected is, increasingly, a political, social and economic reality. And, arguably, it is also the result of simple, secular compassion.

I could also detect some themes in pro-Globalization rhetoric that reminded me of Christian ideals.

There is the mantra of "inevitability"--or, in other words, "destiny." Some quick googling reveals that pro-globalization business leaders and "organizations" like the WTO invest an almost religious faith in the notion that history has been progressing toward neo-liberalism for all eternity. This, they claim, is the inevitable final step, the capstone, in a historical process that seems almost innate, almost built-in to human potentiality.

"People," they claim, "are economic creatures." In other words, we are all consumers, all desirers (to use a made-up word).

The idea that we are all born with insatiable desires hearkens back to original sin. And the way Pro-Globalization actors trace an arc of history to the inevitable endpoint, the point at which the doors of foreign markets all swing open, is a familiar arc, a familiar sense of destiny, of spiraling out-of-control toward something larger than humanity. It reminded me of the notion of salvation. In the Globalization narrative, the extraordinary suffering of millions is waved aside as a sacrifice that will ultimately pay off--leading to a better quality of life, a higher GDP, development: the american(ized) dream. With the cross as its symbol, Christianity is familiar with sacrifice. But this ideal of sacrifice for the Greater Good is discernible, even ubiquitous, in the rhetoric surrounding many western cultural traditions including military and civil service. Why not Globalization?

I may be going out on a long, scary limb here.

But I'm not claiming that any of these parallels are conscious. I believe that cultural archetypes, narratives and touchstones are inextricably woven into our cultural characters, a part of our collective psyches. We retell the same stories again and again because we've heard them so many times. These stories are all the more powerful when they are intended to get under our skin, like fairytales or morality plays, supposed to become innate, a part of us. And the story of the fall and salvation of mankind is nothing if not a morality play, something meant to affect us deeply, to inform the values we live by, to become a part of who we are. Believers would say it is already who we are. That is debatable, teleological. But what is undeniable is that is a story meant to move us.

The idea that we are all one, while perhaps less linear, is equally emotionally-charged and compelling. And, arguably, as much a part of Asia's cultural fabric as the crucifiction is a part of Western Europe's. Furthermore, activists from this part of the world, who were raised with Buddhist and Hindu ideologies, are some of the prominent visionaries in the movement against globalization. Some of them are affiliated with forces on the left in Western politics that were influenced by 60's counter-culture movements and their alliance with spirituality. And yet it would be a fallacy to claim that activists from all over the world adhere to one (even subconscious) ideology. Movements that support human rights over globsalization incorporate activists from all over the world, many of whom may not have been influenced by Hinduism and Buddhism or their narrative of unity. The idea that "we are all interconnected" is, importantly not just a spiritual narrative: it is also a way to embrace, accommodate and encourage this real diversity.

It would also be a dangerous oversimplification to pretend that the relationship between ideas in this debate is as straightforward or binary as the one I've presented here. I believe it might be possible to detect certain undertones of spiritual and cultural narratives in the rhetoric for, and against, globalization. But there are many undertones present, because there are many cultures at stake in these grand narratives. I suspect they are as complex as we are, as multiple and manifold as the stories of our lives.