Corporations Gone Wild

It’s a magnificent time to be alive – if you’re a giant corporation, that is.

Spring is here, and after a deep chill, the mighty mega-businesses are not merely reborn, but blossoming. “Big U.S. companies have emerged from the recession more productive, more profitable, flush with cash and less burdened by debt,” swoons the Wall Street Journal.  The seductively sweet smell of speculation – in mortgages, derivatives, oil, wheat – once again fills the air. Amidst the giddy exuberance of the stock market, why dwell on the dreary conditions among the human population, where one out of every six Americans lives below the poverty line, one of every ten is out of work, and one of every five homes are worth less than the loans that secure them?

Oh to be young, free and incorporated – preferably in an island like Bermuda.

Being a Big Business wasn’t always so much fun. For a long time, corporations had to obey the same rules as the rest of us. And after Wall Street drove America into a ditch four years ago, Corporate America was hurting, too. True, many of us never really thought of inanimate objects as capable of suffering. And come to think of it, I never did meet a homeless corporation (though I’ve encountered many a crooked one). But with bailouts, special tax breaks, and the ability to borrow taxpayer money from the Fed at .05% interest, that painful period didn't last very long.

And then, in 2010, the U.S. Supreme Court decreed in the infamous Citizens United case that under the U.S. Constitution, corporations are the same as people and spending money is a form of free speech. So when corporations write checks, it’s the same as you and me speaking. And corporations have the right, under the First Amendment, to use money to buy public officials and purchase elections.

Corporate America’s been partying like its in Ft. Lauderdale on Spring Break ever since.

As you might expect from a climate of unrestrained corporate debauchery, there’ve been some ill-fated hook-ups, like AT&T and T-Mobile (the annulment cost $4 billion). But don’t worry about a newly rejuvenated Ma Bell not having any BFFs. Its 100 million customers literally cannot dump the company, at least not without paying a massive “early termination fee.” AT&T’s allies on the Supreme Court ruled last year that the company can strip you of your right to take it to court, leaving you no way to sever the relationship if your service fails, your “unlimited” data plan gets throttled, or you get overcharged.

Big businesses were screwing people way before Citizens United and Concepcion v. AT&T, of course. But those decisions fundamentally altered the balance of power between citizens and corporations in the courts, Congress and the executive branch.

Philosophers, scientists and science fiction writers have long predicted that the moment would come when artificial creatures, created by humans, would become more intelligent than humans – a technological "singularity" projected to arrive later this century. But no one would have guessed that 2010 would become the date of the political singularity – the year in which a legal construct – a corporation – would become more politically powerful than humans.

That corporations don’t yet have all the benefits of personhood misses the point. Justice Stevens’ dissent in Citizens United  warned: “Under the majority's view, I suppose it may be a First Amendment problem that corporations are not permitted to vote, given that voting is, among other things, a form of speech.” But corporations don’t need to vote. Corporations decide who gets elected simply by dumping vast quantities of cash into elections on behalf of candidates who will do their bidding.

As a student of American civic life named Tony Montana once explained, “In this country, you gotta make the money first. Then when you get the money, you get the power.”

The 4th of Awry

When I grew up in a suburb south of Boston in the Sixties, the Fourth of July was distinctly the greatest day of summer. Preparations would begin well in advance. First, a trip to Chinatown where we’d pay ten times the fair price for a brick of firecrackers and as many cherry bombs or M-80s as we could afford. The night before, one of our gang’s parents would drive us down to the shore to watch the magnificent fireworks displays, while AM car radios would play patriotic tunes like the Star Spangled Banner. I can still smell the gunpowder that would waft in clouds around us. The next night, we’d conjure up our own smaller version in our backyards, occasionally evading the police when our displays raised the neighbors’ ire.

The times were contentious – the Vietnam War had engendered a national divide – but at the peak of our youth the future seemed limitless. We were about to land a man on the moon! The red glare of the Saturn V rocket as it heaved its gargantuan frame into space symbolized to us kids all that was great about America. Freedom was such a powerful force that it could break the bonds of gravity. As a nation, we would not be restrained.

That all seems like dim myth now. Savaged by the financial collapse and the cost of endless wars on the other side of our planet, there is no budget for fireworks here in Southern California, though some towns have lifted the ban on private sales of firecrackers to grab a little extra tax revenue. Our dreams of pressing the boundaries of space have likewise been downsized. Next Friday, the space shuttle will make its last journey, and “after that, there is little glory to look forward to,” the New York Times notes this morning. The universe has receded from our grasp.

Something has gone profoundly awry in America. Our Supreme Court has defined freedom to mean the ability of big corporations to spend unlimited amounts of money in behalf of their private political agendas, while the rest of us wield our personal freedom in obscurity and servitude.  Awash in money from the powerful and wealthy, our elected officials have abandoned the majority of us. We are left to contend with rising health insurance premiums, disappearing jobs, $4.00 a gallon gasoline, a collapse of social services, and the deeply disturbing prospect that we are leaving our kids with fewer options and worse prospects than we enjoyed.

And fear has set in. Around a third or more of all Americans now fear for the basics: their ability to start a family, buy a home, put their kids through college, and retire.  Through the tyranny of greed, we have lost our liberty to make a better future for ourselves. We have been robbed not merely of our savings, but of our personal and national sense of possibility.

We can recover these – we must. But we cannot do so alone. We can no longer hope to be led. We must, ourselves, lead.