Inconsistent Values: some thoughts about money

Money is pretty strange, especially the more you really think about it.  What makes people willing to hand over things like DVDs, steaks, and churros in exchange for a piece of paper with ridiculous little pictures and numbers all over it?  Why would anyone trade a delicious arrachera taco, say, for a grubby little piece of metal with an eagle stamped into it?  Why do sane people accept these transactions as reasonable, let alone desirable?  Well, there are of course a lot of reasons behind these kinds of decisions, including everything from the political power of states to a kind of trust that exists within a community of users.  One question that always gets me thinking is this: what exactly upholds the value of money?  State power?  Trust?  The symbolic meanings  that people attach to money?  Habit?  A big global conspiracy?  All of the above!?!*

I have been working in Mexico off and on since around 2007, and during that time I have had a few interesting run-ins with this thing we call money.  Many of these experiences point to one particularly intriguing fact: the value of money is anything but stable.  Of course, we all know that.  Markets shift, currencies rise and fall.  Inflation happens.  The value of money changes all the time, right?  Yes, it does.  But what I am talking about is how money that is supposedly stable at larger levels can change value depending on specific social situations.  So values shift in the macro sense, but also in micro, very quotidian senses as well.  And the reasons for those micro fluctuations of value are many.  In short, when it comes to the actual value of money, social context matters.  A few examples:

Read the rest on Savage Minds.

40,000 Murders Since 2006 (Mexico)

From a recent article on Time.com by Ioan Grillo:

In his comprehensive and compelling new book, El Narco: Inside Mexico's Criminal Insurgency, British correspondent Ioan Grillo, who also reports for TIME, narrates the Mexican underworld's "radical transformation from drug smugglers into paramilitary death squads ... a criminal insurgency that poses the biggest armed threat to Mexico since its 1910 revolution." Grillo outlines both the Mexican and American policy failures that fostered the crisis, which has produced 40,000 murders south of the border since 2006. More important, he offers a rare and unsettling look into the lives of ordinary Mexicans and other Latin Americans "sucked into [the drug war] or victimized by it."

Read the rest here.

Making tourist destinations: To Serve Society?

Places all around the world are being transformed, restructured, and reinvented to appeal to the international tourism market. Developers, politicians, bankers, investors, hoteliers, and entrepreneurs contribute to reformulating places according to the wants, needs, expectations, desires, and hopes of a global mass of travelers who have the time (and money) to hop scotch around the planet in search of experiences.  The question, though, is this: Who benefits from all these changes?  Do these new tourist places really only benefit powerful politicians, developers, and investors? Or do they serve society* in some larger sense?

Karl Polanyi, in a much lauded book that is getting its fair share of attention these days of economic malaise, argued that the economy should, ideally, serve the interests of society.  Proponents of the self-regulating market basically argued the reverse: that society should in effect be structured according to the supposedly rational logic of the market.  These same sentiments continue to be promulgated by economists, politicians, and pundits today--these are the proponents of the "free market" who seek to fix the economy by cutting it free from the mores of government, rules, and regulations.  Such an arrangement, for Polanyi, was particularly troubling: "Ultimately, that is why the control of the economic system by the market is of overwhelming to the whole organization of society: it means no less than the running of a society as an adjunct to the market.  Instead of economy being embedded in social relations, social relations are embedded in economic systems" (2001:60).

The lives (and meanings) of tourist spaces

I have always been pretty fascinated by the life histories of tourism destinations. Thinking about touristic spaces in a kind of archaeological sense--that is, over greater periods of time--is endlessly fascinating. I often wonder about the future of places like Las Vegas, Cancun, and Nakheel, especially since many international organizations (like the UNWTO) promote tourism development as a sustainable, surefire solution for socio-economic development. What will Vegas--or Cancun--look like in 100 years? What purpose will these places serve, and how sustainable will they actually be in the long run?

Many countries around the world continue to promote and finance ever more tourism development, in hopes that these investments will create long-lasting social and economic benefits. At least, that's how the narrative goes. But what kinds of social spaces and places are being created under the guise of tourism, and what futures do these places face? What are the lasting social, political, and economic effects of these spaces? For a little insight, I am going to discuss a few tourist destinations that I have read about recently: Elmina, Ghana, Prora, Germany, and finally Acapulco, Mexico.

Edward Bruner's writes about Elmina Castle in Ghana in his wonderful book Culture on Tour (2005). His discussion, which is in chapter three, brings up some poignant issues, one of them being that any tourist location has a multiplicity of histories and meanings. Bruner focuses on how African-American tourists travel to Elmina to experience a connection with their shared understandings of heritage and history. The irony of the chapter, however, is that the local Ghanaians do not share the same understandings about the castle itself. While the American tourists come to see the castle as a brutal representation of the transatlantic slave trade, the Ghanaians have a much broader conception of the same place. For many African American US tourists, "the castles are a sacred ground not to be desecrated. They do not want the castles to be made beautiful or to be whitewashed...Some diaspora Blacks feel that even though they are not Ghanaians, the castles belong to them" (Bruner 2005:103).

Violence, Borders, and Blind Spots

Last week I watched a film called "Backyard," which is about the violence in Ciudad Juarez, Mexico. Located on just the other side of El Paso, Texas, Juarez is a city plagued by violence, corruption, and poverty.  One of the most striking parts of the film: this place exists right on the edge of the US-Mexico border and these problems continue to exist.  It's not as if people don't know about what's happening in Juarez, but for some reason the violence continues, unabated.  In fact, since around 2008, things have only gotten worse.

The subject of Cuidad Juarez came up again on Friday, when I went to a lecture on campus about that explored the politics of violence, poverty, and corruption in the city.  The lecture presented more of the same: a story about government corruption, rampant violence, and the urban youth who bear the brunt of a seemingly unstoppable "continuum of violence."  The overall point: all of the brutal murders of young men and women are constantly being rationalized by the Mexican government (and others).  The women, the narrative goes, are getting killed because they are out on the streets (ie they must be prostitutes), and the young men get murdered because they are the guilty associates of narcotraficantes.  This creates a situation of impunity, in which the Mexican State basically forgoes the need to investigate these crimes, since, in effect, they claim that the victims themselves basically "had it coming."  

One of the main points of the talk was that this climate of impunity has basically gutted the social movements that have risen up to try to stop this violence--the speaker told us that Ciudad Juarez lost nearly 20 percent of its population (mostly from the middle class) in just one year.  Journalists have been silenced, or outright killed.  The Mexican State, for its part, has increased the militarization of the city and claimed that the rise in violence is actually a sign of success.  The military, says the Mexican State, is disrupting the narco-networks, and causing them to lose a grip on their power.  This, supposedly, explains the uptick in violence.  Meanwhile, the people of Juarez are caught in a seemingly impossible and brutal crossfire laden with corruption, murder, and violence.  

All of this, right across the border.  These are the kinds of things that seemingly abstract political boundaries can obscure.  But we all play our part in looking the other way.  Despite everything that has happened--and continues to happen--in places like Ciudad Juarez, the show goes on here in the US.  How is this even possible?

***

I have never been to Juarez, so all of my knowledge of the place comes secondhand sources.  But I have had my fair share of experience with another major border city: Tijuana.  I grew up in San Diego, California, and the US-Mexico border was just something that we were all used to.  As young surfers who went around chasing waves in places like K-38 and Punta San Jose, the border was little more than a minor inconvenience.  That's how it is when your starting point happens to be the US of A, after all.  That border was certainly much more permeable for me and my friends than it was for many others.

When I was a teenager, I was able to cross into Tijuana with little more than a driver's license.  Fittingly, the historical and political significance of my migratory possibilities--based upon the possession of the 'right' documents--never really crossed my mind.  Meanwhile, thousands of people from places I had never heard of (Oaxaca, Chiapas, Guatemala) attempted to cross in the opposite direction in search of jobs...many of them unsuccessful.  The irony of it all was that I was able to unthinkingly cross into their country, while they went through hell to try to get into mine--into the very Northern San Diego community where I lived--in order to work long, brutal days picking strawberries, washing dishes, or tending gardens.

I learned about the details of my political blind spot years later when I read a book by an anthropologist who actually did fieldwork in my home town.  Such subjects never came up in my high school history class, for some reason or another.  And that's part of my point: the foundations for apathy start in how we think about, talk about, and teach seemingly innocuous subjects like history.  So one good place to rethink things, as I see it, is education.  This isn't about teaching one side of history, but about teaching history in ways that extends beyond the usual narratives (and this would include more local histories as well).  At least from my personal experience, the interrelated histories of Mexico and the US aren't exactly a top priority in public education, and such curriculum decisions have powerful political implications.  While I grew up only about 45 minutes from Tijuana, I really never knew much about it.  All things considered, this is pretty astounding when you really think about it.  If kids in El Paso and San Diego learn more about the actual people who live across the border, how can or will that change the ways in which we think about the issues and problems that exist on our borders?

Tijuana, much like Juarez, has a reputation as a violent and corrupt city.  And, also like Juarez, things seemed to get worse after Felipe Calderon took over in 2006 and started his war on drugs.  Tijuana has a long relationship with its sister city of San Diego, a history of intertwined economies, politics, and even families.  As one of the largest border crossings in the world, if not the largest, it's a shockingly massive example of commerce and migration.  I have waited in line for 6 hours trying to cross that border (heading back into the US), along with thousands and thousands of others.  Yet, also like Juarez, there is a tremendous socio-economic disparity between Tijuana and San Diego.  For anyone who knows both cities, this is readily apparent.  I remember the ridiculously ironic vistas of seeing San Diego while waiting in line to cross the border.  How, I often wondered (and still do) are such differences created, perpetuated, and maintained?

The ironic thing about borders is that we create and maintain them daily by our actions.  Sure, there are fences and checkpoints and other material markers of those borders, and those physical boundaries are definitely real.  I am not dismissing the fact that we are literally separated in many ways.  But there is more to the border than just the fences, the ICE, and all of those checkpoints in Texas, Arizona, New Mexico, and California.  These borders are constructed early on (ie grade school) and maintained over lifetimes.  We build and rebuild these borders through the ways we talk about and teach the past, and through the ways we engage in debates about the present.  There is no reason why the relationship between the US and Mexico has to be the way it is.  Just as we erect literal walls, we continue to enact and create socio-political walls that separate on obfuscate just as perniciously as any high-tech security fence ever could.  At least, some of us do--and others poke holes in those social walls.  Still, in the grand scheme, it seems pretty apparent that these barriers remain fairly well entrenched, especially considering the recent histories of places like Tijuana and Ciudad Juarez, those sister cities that we ignore when things get just a little too uncomfortable.

Ok, so what am I arguing here?  That the violence in places like Juarez and Tijuana would magically go away if we found a way to deal with the social and political barriers that exist between the US? That the US is the real source of the problems in these places?  No, and no.  My argument is, however, that we are much more connected to these places than many of us know (or are willing to admit), and that the issues like poverty, rampant violence, and corruption certainly aren't going to go away by switching the geopolitical channel.  My argument is that the relative lack of historical and political knowledge about Mexico--and the extensive social and historical ties that exist between the US and Mexico--certainly don't help.  Why is it that we have had this longstanding inability to find a reasonable and human solution for immigration reform?  How is it possible that many border cities have been plagued by the collateral damage of drug wars (while US consumers continue to consume those drugs in ridiculous quantities)?  How does violence continue in places like Juarez and Tijuana, just across the border from other places like El Paso and San Diego?

Because, at some level, there are people on both sides of the border who benefit from the status quo. These things continue, in my opinion, because some people are making a profit (whether from drugs, prostitution, international trade, or cheap labor), and many others could care less.  Some people have a vested interest in keeping things as they are, and plenty of others don't have enough interest to want things to change.  That's how the persistent and egregious violence in places like Ciudad Juarez become possible.  Maybe, at some point, those of us on both sides of the border who actually give a damn will find ways to work toward making that which has remained possible--violence, corruption, and exploitation on both sides--impossible at last.  If the problems exist on both sides of our physical and social borders, then the solutions do as well.

And sometimes I ask myself...how did these people get here?

From my readings about different approaches to the study of tourism: "As Franklin...argues, tourism is no doubt a social activity, but it cannot be reduced to the social because it is relationally linked to a wide variety of objects, machines, texts, systems, non-humans, spaces and so on, without which it would not happen and could not become what it is: 'as an ordering it organizes a complex mesh of human and non-humans and creates ordering effects" (Rene van der Duim, 2007: "Tourism, Materiality and Space"). The photo above was taken at the archaeological site of Coba in 2008. What guidebooks, stories from friends, TV shows, airline offers, understandings of the world, educations, vacations, social networks, industries, chance occurrences, and other factors came together to bring these people to this place, at that time, atop some old pile of rocks? What motivated those people to go THERE, of all places? What beliefs? What economic factors? What matters of taste? What historical interests? What biases? What discourses have come together to create Coba as a desirable destination, as a place worthy of spending income on to visit? What happens when those discourses change--when Coba is no longer seen as a valuable place? Does it just become another old pile of rocks, as it was before being resurrected by the tourism industry (and archaeologists, of course)?

Participant Observation of grad school, continued

Week seven, I think.

Rule #1 in grad school: there isn't enough time. Get used to it. Rule #2: When you use your Netflix account to get a break from grad school, be sure to intersperse some uplifting films in the queue every once in a while. This weekend we watched "The Road" here at home, and it just wasn't the RIGHT movie for this time during the semester. Sure, they did a pretty good job of adapting the film to the book. But the film itself was a bit bleak for a couple of grad students who don't get a lot of time to go outside and have fun away from computers and books. Noted.

Right now I am buried in seminars, writing up a research proposal, and doing TA stuff. It's the usual life of a mid-semester grad student. Suddenly all take-out and restaurant food sounds really good, all the time. This is the time of the semester when I feel like I need to go make coffee--or do something--in order to really start getting stuff done.

One big project that I am working on is writing up my dissertation proposal. Suddenly I am chasing down any article I can about the whole proposal process--articles about style, about methods, and about accepting the fact that a multitude of people will be going for the same grants. This site, by the way, has some pretty helpful stuff for any of you folks who happen to be working on dissertation or other proposals. I also have a renewed interest in all of my methods books. Now, I want to have H. Russell Bernard with me at all times.

In one seminar, which is basically about Power according to Michel Foucault, we just went through another interlude with the work of Lacan. Psychoanalysis: interesting, yes. But then what? I'm not really sure what to do with all of those ideas about "the real" and "the void" in a methodological sense. Ya, I get the basic idea that we exist in a symbolized world, and that our cultural and linguistic symbolizations can't really envelope all of reality. There are gaps in what we can explain, depict, and even recognize--and sometimes our little symbolic webs pretty much limit how and why we think certain ways.

Great. But how or why should I or anyone else assume that Lacan has THE right version of reality? Does it even matter? I mean, it seems like it all requires a leap of faith. Either you accept the starting assumptions that Lacan (and others) put forth, or you're a die-hard materialist reductionist who is blinded by the symbolic order/fish tank that you don't even know you're in. Who knows? I always wonder how Lacan is able to realize all of this--what makes him one of the people who able to realize that "the real" exists? Maybe that's just his own symbolic order conflating the issue. This is a tangent that I am going to walk away from, abruptly.

In another seminar the word of the week is "development." This has been the word of the week before, of course. This time around, I'm glad we're reading through James Ferguson's Anti-Politics Machine. Why? Because he makes the point that it might be a good idea to look at the unstated results of development. Don't just look at the stated goals of development projects, also look at all of the other consequences.

The news of the week: 22 tourists were kidnapped in Mexico. I think this happened in Acapulco. Not good. Did you know that almost 30,000 people have died in Mexico because of drug wars and related violence? Ya, this is a serious problem. Felipe Calderon has tried to battle the situation, but he has basically been outgunned on most counts. His newest plan is to revamp the entire police force of Mexico.

Finally, from the environmentalist front. Sometimes when environmentalists talk about human-environment issues, they forget about the human part. There is a real danger in this, especially considering people like the Discovery Channel gunman who go completely overboard. Another recent case occurred with the British environmentalist group 10:10, who released a new promo video called "No Pressure," which is supposed to encourage people to do something about the environment. Here's the video (graphic content warning):

Not surprisingly, there were tons of negative reactions, the video was pulled, and 10:10 issued a heart felt apology, saying they "missed the mark with this one" or something like that. You know, when you start alluding to killing people based upon political or social ideals, well, I think you've gone far beyond "missing the mark." While I certainly understand the reasons why people become passionate about environmental issues, I think it's pretty critical not to completely lose perspective. Kind of reminds me of the biography of the late Diane Fossey. Yes, it is important to rethink how we use the environment, and this is a serious issue. And yes, we need to think about how humans interact with the "natural" world around them. At the same time, it's critical not to turn the issue into some ideological nightmare by making polemic crap like this. Bad move, 10:10. All you've done with this is make yourselves look like extremists. Definitely not going to win any supporters with this sort of thing.

Water & Rights

Water is bottled and sold. Think about that. Should water--something that everyone's life depends on--be just another market commodity? Should we trust the supposed efficiency of the "invisible hand" to provide everyone around the world with clean water?

I never really had to think much about water when I was a kid. It was always there. I walked into the kitchen, turned a little handle, and there it was. I could turn on the hose whenever I wanted and flood the grass with all the water it needed. I never had to walk anywhere to get water, and I certainly never went without. Did you?

I grew up in southern California. We never really SAVED water. But we sure did a good job of using it. And I'm not talking just about household use, but how much water was used in the aggregate sense. Yes, I remember some instances in which people were gently asked to be careful about their water use. There were times during hot summers that we were all supposed to use less water. But it's not like this was ever a real severe issue. People were asked not to wash their cars in the middle of summer, or maybe not water their lawns too much. But there was never a shortage of water--there was always water coming from the tap (this was after the big drought of 1977).

"Water", California, 2009. Photo by R.A.

There certainly were few moves toward changing the ways in which we used water--there was no major structural overhaul or attempt to rethink how we used water. All of those lawns and swimming pools throughout suburban neighborhoods illustrate this fact quite clearly. Lawns? If you think about it, the cultural habit of surrounding each and every little tract home with a small green swath of grass makes absolutely no sense. But making sense isn't what's at issue here--it's power that we're talking about (and this applies all over the world, not just to California). Power, and some well entrenched habits. Yes, access to water = power, and many people get used that to power. But this is going to become a bigger issue that more people (especially those in places like southern California) are going to have to think about.

Of course, there is a long history of water politics and conflicts in southern California. The battle between Owens Valley and the city of Los Angeles is one of the most well known examples (Here's one more link about this well known political battle). It's the story of a growing urban community living in a semi-desert environment that had to basically steal water to survive. And there's no way that Los Angeles could have ever grown to its present day size without making a power grab for water. There simply wasn't enough to support such a massive population. And, looking at Los Angeles, Orange County, Riverside County, and San Diego County today, it seems pretty clear that there really isn't enough water to go around--especially considering the absolute waste of so much water.

Some people think that water is basically the next oil, meaning that the international political conflicts that we see over oil today are going to be over water in the future. In many ways, this is already coming to fruition. Many people all over the world do not have access to clean water--and often this boils down to pure politics. A few days ago I watched the film "FLOW," which got me thinking a lot about water again. If you haven't seen it, the film is available via YouTube. It takes a global look at the politics of control of and access to water. Here's the first part:

Water access and use are issues that resonate with my research on development in Baja California as well. Large scale tourism development projects clearly control and use massive amounts of water. Hotels and resorts could not function without the "convenience" of clean water in each and every room. But then, there are the golf courses. Los Cabos already has a number of golf courses, many new development projects include yet another "world class" course. I'm not sure how this happened, but golf courses are one of the signs of prestige these days, so everyone tries to include one in their project in order to appeal to that "luxury" or "high-end" tourism market. But what happens to surrounding populations when these massive resorts and golf courses are built? What happens to water rights? What happens to the cost of access to water?

Tourism is a product. Tourism is sold via various forms of media; idealistic images of landscapes and environments become primary sales tools. Tourism businesses sell relaxation, romance, and luxury. They sell peace and quiet, and they sell adventure. Everything from surfing to diving to walking on those sandy beaches becomes a product for sale. But what are the trade-offs? What are the actual social and political costs of some of these products? What happens when these places are built? Are there winners and losers? And what about environmental damage and degradation? Where are the warning labels for "products" like international tourism? This is one way that I think we all need to look at tourism. We don't really need to look at the "impacts" of tourism as much as we need to look at the histories, relationships, and politics that pervade tourism development. And the effects of tourism development on water access is just one factor to consider. But it's a critical factor, and not one that you can expect to read about while perusing an in-flight magazine on your way to Cancun. Does it matter if someone else can't get clean water just a few miles away from your five star hotel? Maybe questions like this should at least become a part of the equation when tourists look for places to visit.

***

A golf course built in the middle of the desert may be picturesque to some people. I suppose it all depends on your personal ideals about beauty. To me golf courses are blatant symbols of power. The ability (and desire) to control water and use it for purely recreational purposes is astounding, all things considered. And I'm not just talking about all of the existing and proposed golf courses in Baja California, I'm talking about the courses that exist all over places like Southern California. Nothing against the sport of golf, but sometimes the use of resources is just beyond the pale. One of the first that always comes to mind when I think about this is Palm Springs. But then, I think my own home town of Carlsbad, CA has about three golf courses now. I understand the fact that golf courses appeal to tourists, and that they seem to improve the image of a city. But at some point, things are going to have to change. As the populations keep growing, people are going to have to rethink how they use water. This applies to everything from golf courses to washing dishes. But it seems to me that lots of Americans, at least, are trying to avoid thinking about these issues for as long as possible.

Drain, Southern California, 2008. Photo by R.A.

A lot of times when we think about water we think about where it ends up. We see water flowing along gutters or into drains and we wonder about waste. We wonder where it goes, how it will be treated, and then what will be done about it after that. But we should also think about things that happen long before we even reach for the tap. We should think about who has control of our water (and everyone else's water), and how some people can get it easily and others cannot. In the US, water is seemingly everywhere. Take a look at your local grocery store. Look at public parks, where drinking fountains are routine parts of the landscape. There surely doesn't seem to be any shortage, right? Distant histories, such as those of Owens Valley, speak otherwise. Water has been an issue in places like Southern California, and for a long time.

But California is just one aspect of the problem. It's a model, in many ways, of what NOT to do with water. Fortunately, there are some people who are thinking very seriously about water and making changes. But this is an issue that extends far beyond Los Angeles, Palm Springs, Owens Valley, and Baja California Sur. Yes, it matters how we use water. But we also have to think about water access and rights around the world, and specifically how some of our own politics and practices are connected to these issues. Water is a crucial resource that many people around the world simply cannot take for granted. Recently, the UN has declared access to clean water and sanitation a human right. Is that enough?

National Geographic Traveler Rates 133 Places...

And the Cabo San Lucas region scores a 37. Here is what they had to say:

Mexico: Cabo San Lucas Region
Score: 37

Sleepy fishing villages have been transformed into places "where drinking tequila shots upside down is the number one tourist attraction and gated communities are the main economic activity."

Here is a representative sampling of additional anonymous comments from the panelists. They are not necessarily the views of the National Geographic Society:

"A tourism catastrophe. Total focus on money, lack of environmental attention, lack of local benefit except in menial jobs. Entire coast bought up by developers destroying turtle beaches and places that should remain natural and protected. Very little authentic local culture presented."

"Suffering under unregulated mega-development and all of the related environmental, cultural, and geographic impacts. This being said, the East Cape extending up to La Paz and the Pacific coastline up to Todos Santos are exceptional and relatively authentic and unspoiled. Due to the limited supply of water in these areas, it is likely to stay this way, although cheaper desalination could change this in the mid- to long-term."

"This can only really be seen as an extension of the United States, and not even its more admirable parts. Although not quite to the same level of Cancún, it's still terribly gringofied and bears little resemblance to the rest of the wonderful country."

"Cabo San Lucas and the Corridor are tourist playgrounds, but Cabo Pulmo around the bend on the Sea of Cortez is wonderful (if a little touristy)."

More about this soon. Here is the link to the whole article.

The bus from Cancun to Valladolid, 7/2010

Narcomex