I think this article is a good example of someone criticizing capitalist economics without clearly demonstrating an understanding of capitalist economics.

GDP, or national income, is the total income of the population of a country taken as a whole. So, when GDP increases, the income of the population increases. This article approvingly quotes an environment lawyer both criticizing the focus on increasing the income of the population and calling for an increase in the income of certain groups within the population: "the focus on GDP growth deflects efforts from growing the many things that do need to grow. […] We need to grow the number of good jobs and the incomes of poor and working Americans." The only way to increase the income of subpopulations like poor people and working people without increasing the income of the population — that is, without increasing GDP — is to take money away from some people and give it to other people.

If you want to grow a slice of the pie without growing the pie, there's only one way you can do that: make one slice bigger by making another slice smaller.

There is no indication in this article that the author appreciates this fact. He doesn't explicitly advocate the redistribution of income away from some subpopulations to other subpopulations, or even mention it as an option. And yet that is a direct and inevitable logical consequence of growing the incomes of poor and working people without growing GDP, so it doesn't make sense that it doesn't come up at all.

I'm not saying you have to agree with capitalist economics, but I am saying you have to clearly demonstrate that you understand capitalist economics in order to make a compelling case against it.

Let me explain why capitalist economists think GDP growth is so important by focusing on per capita GDP, i.e. the total income of a country divided by the population. Adjusted for inflation, per capita GDP in Canada was $41,462 per year per person in 1980. That means if there had been perfect income equality in 1980 — if everyone's income was exactly the same as everyone else's — each person would have an income of $41,462 per year. In 2015, per capita GDP in Canada was $65,261 per year per person. Again, in a state of perfect income equality, each person would get $65,261 per year. That's a big improvement in the last 35 years!

Many capitalist economists — like Thomas Piketty, famously — argue that we should do more to redistribute wealth from those who have more to those who have less. These same economists virtually all agree that, at the same time, we should attempt to promote per capita GDP growth so that, among other things, there is more wealth to redistribute and more government revenue to fund welfare and social services.

Maybe you disagree with what capitalist economists think about the economy. Okay, great. Here's what you need to do, then. First, show the reader you understand what capitalist economists think about the economy and help them understand if they don't. Second, explain what specific errors you believe capitalist economists have made in their thinking. Third, offer an alternative way of thinking about the economy.

Failing that, you guarantee that your argument will be completely unconvincing.

The metaphor of 'fighting' suggests an antagonistic process between The Right — who know everything and have it all figured out, and who are morally pure — and The Wrong — who are either brainwashed or morally corrupt. Psychologically and rhetorically, there is a common skeleton between this attitude and the attitude of fundamentalist Christians who fear that darkness (in the form of Islam, homosexuality, atheism, etc.) is creeping over the world.

I don't believe that all the answers are already known. I don't believe that the root of the world's problems is evil people and those they've brainwashed. Most of the time, we don't do better because nobody has figured out how yet. It's not that we know how but simply choose not to. It's that the right choice is unclear. To think that you have all the answers but evil stands in your way is a recipe for some kind of messiah complex. So you hate the system. What makes you so certain your new system would be better? If good, empathetic, intelligent people don't agree with your system, doesn't that suggest that everything is not so obvious? Do these people become your enemies who have to be 'fought'? Or dumb-dumbs that have to be 'educated' on the truth and rightness of your belief in your new system until they get it through their thick skulls?

Anger can be motivating, but its usefulness is limited. Anger is like worry. If you never felt worried, you would probably fail to plan ahead or take precautions. But too often people are consumed by their own worry, and rather than serve a useful purpose for them, it just debilitates them and makes them feel awful inside. When people are consumed by anger, it is just as harmful. It burns away kindness, sensitivity, softness, thoughtfulness, curiosity, systematicity, and optimism. Getting more angry is very rarely a solution to anything.

"...a world on the brink of total collapse... watching the dust settle as our world lapses into a post-apocalyptic nightmare."

The world isn't ending, it is just beginning.

It is amazing to me how people will announce the end of the world at the drop of a hat. There have been apocalypse prophecies forever, but none have ever come true. People don't stop making these prophecies after repeated failure because apocalypticism comes as naturally to us as breathing. Human beings across cultures and time periods seem to have an instinctual drive to believe that the end of the world is just around the corner, as the sociologist James Hughes has observed: http://podcasts.ox.ac.uk/av...

The problems we face today are not nearly as bad as the problems that previous generations overcame. Climate change isn't scary. The Cold War, that was scary. The future might look uncertain, but that's the way it has always looked. Don't panic. It's going to be okay.

Asam Ahmad just recently published a beautifully clear and insightful piece about the toxicity of what he calls "call-out culture":

"In the context of call-out culture, it is easy to forget that the individual we are calling out is a human being, and that different human beings in different social locations will be receptive to different strategies for learning and growing. For instance, most call-outs I have witnessed immediately render anyone who has committed a perceived wrong as an outsider to the community. One action becomes a reason to pass judgment on someone’s entire being... Call-out culture can end up mirroring what the prison industrial complex teaches us about crime and punishment: to banish and dispose of individuals rather than to engage with them as people with complicated stories and histories.

It isn’t an exaggeration to say that there is a mild totalitarian undercurrent not just in call-out culture but also in how progressive communities police and define the bounds of who’s in and who’s out. More often than not, this boundary is constructed through the use of appropriate language and terminology – a language and terminology that are forever shifting and almost impossible to keep up with."

http://briarpatchmagazine.c...

Hi. While I was wandering through this political otherworld, I was also wandering through depression. The two were enmeshed. My political worldview made me depressed, and my depression made my political worldview seem realistic. I think this is actually a pretty common phenomenon among radical leftists. (Perhaps it also is among anti-oppression activists who are more politically centrist. I don't know, because I only ever hung around people who were both.)

My advice to someone who is depressed would include things like (obviously) talk to a compassionate therapist who is a good listener, gently remind yourself not to think negative thoughts about yourself (don't be more insulting to yourself in your own head than you would be out loud to your best friend), spend time in nature, and be around happy people who you love and who love you. But I really don't understand depression that well, so, as I said, if you're depressed, find a therapist who you get a good vibe from. Keep going to sessions even if you don't feel like it's helping right away, but don't hesitate to change therapists in order to find a good match. I do feel like I understand the psychology of radical political activism a bit better, so I'll direct the rest of my advice to that part of the equation specifically.

In my essay, I say, "My conscience betrayed me." In my mind, I just wanted to do the right thing, what I saw as the necessary thing. Passivity seemed inexcusable. I didn't even want to be a good person per se, just a decent person, a non-shitty person. (Ironically, that commitment made a shittier friend and a ruder stranger.) Our typical way of thinking about people is that people are selfish and bad, and constantly need to be motivated to be moral. But in fact people find motivation to be moral very easily. In fact, sometimes the moral impulse can go into overdrive. Our moral instinct can hijack our minds and hold us hostage. Be conscious of that. When your moral compass gets overheated, sometimes you need to switch it to low power so it has time to cool down and recalibrate.

Solid Bow's advice to make your life much bigger than politics is sound. There's something so... small about the mindset of people (like my past self) who never stop thinking about politics. There's just so much more out there that's equally important and worthwhile. Life, fundamentally, is not about politics. There are the rare people who can happily dedicate their lives to political activism and who history remembers with admiration, but what makes those people special is that they don't feel defeated and hopeless. They are the ones who burn so brightly with hope, whose vision is so inspiring that they wake us up from our cynicism and despair. Tell people things are bad and they'll nod and say, "We know." Give people hope and they will move mountains.

Karen's advice about humour is great advice too. I take the controversial view that levity and humour is always appropriate. Joking about something horrible doesn't necessarily mean failing to respect the gravity and seriousness of it. It can be a way of bringing light to a dark place. Grieving people often make jokes at the funeral for someone they loved. Humour isn't mockery. It's part of the essence of life. There can be more compassion and humanity in a single joke than a thousand serious pronouncements about oppression. Christopher Hitchens nails it: "The people who must never have power are the humorless. To impossible certainties of rectitude they ally tedium and uniformity."

I'll share with you my personal moment of transformation back into a healthy human being, but it may be completely specific to me. I don't know if telling you about it will help you in any way. As Friedrich Nietzsche said, "Nobody can build the bridge for you to walk across the river of life, no one but you yourself alone." Just remember that the whole purpose of politics in the first place is joy, freedom, and humanity. Be the change you wish to see by setting those as your goals for your own life and you'll find your way there. I know you will.

In my essay, I mention, "Almost by accident, I took time off from being an activist." What happened was I scheduled a short visit to my rural hometown to visit my family and some old friends who happened to be in town for the summer. I planned to stay for a week or two. Those two weeks turned into three beautiful months. What is the exact opposite of depression? I don't know, but when my depression and political worldview simultaneously (not coincidentally) melted away, that is what I felt. I felt like I was coming alive again. I could write a whole other essay about that time in my life. I would call it "Everything is wonderful". The central theme of that summer, besides the fun and adventures I had with my wonderful friends, was my spiritual connection to nature. Turns out my hometown made up for all that homophobia I put up with in my teenage years. I would look up at the full moon, or lie in the tall grass looking at the crickets and wild flowers, and be utterly overcome. It was a restoration I couldn't have had in an urban environment. I wrote in my diary at the time, "It is to nature’s credit that we invented God to explain it. An infinite, omniscient, omnipotent mind: the only conceivable source of all this lush, surpassing beauty. The idea of God is inherent in nature — vast beyond conception, old beyond imagination, intelligent, mystifying, and perpetual. Although literally an error, it is poignant as a metaphor. God is alive in the county."