David Graeber
interview: ‘So many people spend their working lives doing jobs
they think are unnecessary’
The anarchist author,
coiner of the phrase ‘We are the 99%’, talks to Stuart Jeffries
about ‘bullshit jobs’, our rule-bound lives and the importance of
play.
A few years ago David
Graeber’s mother had a series of strokes. Social workers advised
him that, in order to pay for the home care she needed, he should
apply for Medicaid, the US government health insurance programme for
people on low incomes. So he did, only to be sucked into a vortex of
form filling and humiliation familiar to anyone who’s ever been
embroiled in bureaucratic procedures.
At one point, the
application was held up because someone at the Department of Motor
Vehicles had put down his given name as “Daid”; at another,
because someone at Verizon had spelled his surname “Grueber”.
Graeber made matters worse by printing his name on the line clearly
marked “signature” on one of the forms. Steeped in
Kafka, Catch-22 and David Foster Wallace’s The
Pale King, Graeber was alive to all the hellish ironies of the
situation but that didn’t make it any easier to bear. “We spend
so much of our time filling in forms,” he says. “The average
American waits six months of her life waiting for the lights to
change. If so, how many years of our life do we spend doing
paperwork?”
The matter became
academic, because Graeber’s mother died before she got Medicaid.
But the form-filling ordeal stayed with him. “Having spent much of
my life leading a fairly bohemian existence, comparatively insulated
from this sort of thing, I found myself asking: is this what ordinary
life, for most people, is really like?” writes the 53-year-old
professor of anthropology in his new book The Utopia of Rules:
On Technology, Stupidity and the Secret Joys of Bureaucracy. “Running
around feeling like an idiot all day? Being somehow put in a position
where one actually does end up acting like an idiot?”
“I like to think I’m
actually a smart person. Most people seem to agree with that,”
Graeber says, in a restaurant near his London School of Economics
office. “OK, I was emotionally distraught, but I was doing things
that were really dumb. How did I not notice that the signature was on
the wrong line? There’s something about being in that bureaucratic
situation that encourages you to behave foolishly.”
But Graeber’s book
doesn’t just present human idiocy in its bureaucratic form. Its
main purpose is to free us from a rightwing misconception about
bureaucracy. Ever since Ronald Reagan said: “The most terrifying
words in the English language are: I’m from the government and I’m
here to help”, it has been commonplace to assume that bureaucracy
means government. Wrong, Graeber argues. “If you go to the Mac
store and somebody says: ‘I’m sorry, it’s obvious that what
needs to happen here is you need a new screen, but you’re still
going to have to wait a week to speak to the expert’, you don’t
say ‘Oh damn bureaucrats’, even though that’s what it is –
classic bureaucratic procedure. We’ve been propagandised into
believing that bureaucracy means civil servants. Capitalism isn’t
supposed to create meaningless positions. The last thing a
profit-seeking firm is going to do is shell out money to workers they
don’t really need to employ. Still, somehow, it happens.”
[Left] Radical heritage …
David Graeber
Graeber’s argument is
similar to one he made in a 2013 article called “On the Phenomenon of Bullshit Jobs”, in which he argued that, in 1930,
economist John Maynard Keynes predicted that by the end of
the century technology would have advanced sufficiently that in
countries such as the UK and the US we’d be on 15-hour weeks. “In
technological terms, we are quite capable of this. And yet it didn’t
happen. Instead, technology has been marshalled, if anything, to
figure out ways to make us all work more. Huge swaths of people, in
Europe and North America in particular, spend their entire working
lives performing tasks they believe to be unnecessary. The moral and
spiritual damage that comes from this situation is profound. It is a
scar across our collective soul. Yet virtually no one talks about
it.”
Which jobs are
bullshit? “A world without teachers or dock-workers would soon be
in trouble. But it’s not entirely clear how humanity would suffer
were all private equity CEOs, lobbyists, PR researchers, actuaries,
telemarketers, bailiffs or legal consultants to similarly vanish.”
He concedes that some might argue that his own work is meaningless.
“There can be no objective measure of social value,” he says
emolliently.
In The Utopia of
Rules, Graeber goes further in his analysis of what went wrong.
Technological advance was supposed to result in us teleporting to new
planets, wasn’t it? He lists some of the other predicted
technological wonders he’s disappointed don’t exist: flying cars,
suspended animation, immortality drugs, androids, colonies on Mars.
“Speaking as someone who was eight years old at the time of the
Apollo moon landing, I have clear memories of calculating that I
would be 39 years of age in the magic year 2000, and wondering what
the world around me would be like. Did I honestly expect I would be
living in a world of such wonders? Of course. Do I feel cheated now?
Absolutely.”
But what happened
between the Apollo moon landing and now? Graeber’s theory is that
in the late 1960s and early 1970s there was mounting fear about a
society of hippie proles with too much time on their hands. “The
ruling class had a freak out about robots replacing all the workers.
There was a general feeling that ‘My God, if it’s bad now with
the hippies, imagine what it’ll be like if the entire working class
becomes unemployed.’ You never know how conscious it was but
decisions were made about research priorities.” Consider, he
suggests, medicine and the life sciences since the late 1960s.
“Cancer? No, that’s still here.” Instead, the most dramatic
breakthroughs have been with drugs such as Ritalin, Zoloft and Prozac
– all of which, Graeber writes, are “tailor-made, one might say,
so that these new professional demands don’t drive us completely,
dysfunctionally, crazy”.
His bullshit jobs
argument could be taken as a counterblast to the hyper-capitalist
dystopia argument wherein the robots take over and humans are busted
down to an eternity of playing Minecraft. Summarising
predictions in recent futurological literature, John Lanchester
has written: “There’s capital, doing better than ever; the
robots, doing all the work; and the great mass of humanity, doing not
much but having fun playing with its gadgets.” Lanchester drew
attention to a league table drawn up by two Oxford economists of 702
jobs that might be better done by robots: at number one (most safe)
were recreational therapists; at 702 (least safe) were telemarketers.
Anthropologists, Graeber might be pleased to know, came in at 39, so
he needn’t start burnishing his resume just yet – he’s much
safer than writers (123) and editors (140).
Graeber believes that
since the 1970s there has been a shift from technologies based on
realising alternative futures to investment technologies that
favoured labour discipline and social control. Hence the internet.
“The control is so ubiquitous that we don’t see it.” We don’t
see, either, how the threat of violence underpins society, he claims.
“The rarity with which the truncheons appear just helps to make
violence harder to see,” he writes.
[Left] Occupy Wall Street
protests in New York in 2011
In 2011, at New York’s
Zuccotti Park, he became involved in Occupy Wall Street, which he
describes as an “experiment in a post-bureaucratic society”. He
was responsible for the slogan “We are the 99%”. “We wanted to
demonstrate we could do all the services that social service
providers do without endless bureaucracy. In fact at one point at
Zuccotti Park there was a giant plastic garbage bag that had $800,000
in it. People kept giving us money but we weren’t going to put it
in the bank. You have all these rules and regulations. And Occupy
Wall Street can’t have a bank account. I always say the principle
of direct action is the defiant insistence on acting as if one is
already free.”
He quotes with approval
the anarchist collective Crimethinc: “Putting yourself in new
situations constantly is the only way to ensure that you make your
decisions unencumbered by the nature of habit, law, custom or
prejudice – and it’s up to you to create the situations.”
Academia was, he muses, once a haven for oddballs – it was one of
the reasons he went into it. “It was a place of refuge. Not any
more. Now, if you can’t act a little like a professional executive,
you can kiss goodbye to the idea of an academic career.”
Why is that so
terrible? “It means we’re taking a very large percentage of the
greatest creative talent in our society and telling them to go to
hell … The eccentrics have been drummed out of all institutions.”
Well, perhaps not all of them. “I am an offbeat person. I am one of
those guys who wouldn’t be allowed in the academy these days.”
Indeed, he claims to have been blackballed by the American academy
and found refuge in Britain. In 2005, he went on a year’s
sabbatical from Yale, “and did a lot of direct action and was in
the media”. When he returned he was, he says, snubbed by colleagues
and did not have his contract renewed. Why? Partly, he believes,
because his countercultural activities were an embarrassment to Yale.
Born in 1961 to
working-class Jewish parents in New York, Graeber had a radical
heritage. His father, Kenneth, was a plate stripper who fought in the
Spanish civil war, and his mother, Ruth, was a garment worker who
played the lead role in Pins and Needles, a 1930s musical revue
staged by the international Ladies’ Garment Workers’ Union.
Their son was calling
himself an anarchist at the age of 16, but only got heavily involved
in politics in 1999 when he became part of the protests against the
World Trade Organisation meeting in Seattle. Later, while teaching at
Yale, he joined the activists, artists and pranksters of the Direct
Action Network in New York. Would he have got further at Yale if he
hadn’t been an anarchist? “Maybe. I guess I had two strikes
against me. One, I seemed to be enjoying my work too much. Plus I’m
from the wrong class: I come from a working-class background.” The
US’s loss is the UK’s gain: Graeber became a reader in
anthropology at Goldsmiths, University of London, in 2008 and
professor at the LSE two years ago.
His publications
include Fragments of an Anarchist Anthropology (2004), in
which he laid out his vision of how society might be organised on
less alienating lines, and Direct Action: An Ethnography (2009),
a study of the global justice movement. In 2013, he wrote his most
popularly political book yet, The Democracy Project. “I wanted
it to be called ‘As if We Were Already Free’,” he tells me.
“And the publishers laughed at me – a subjunctive in the title!”
But it was Debt: The First 5,000 Years, published in 2011, that
made him famous and has drawn praise from the likes of Thomas
Piketty and Russell Brand. Financial Times journalist and
fellow anthropologist Gillian Tett argued that the book was “not
just thought-provoking but exceedingly timely”, not least, no
doubt, because in it Graeber called for a biblical-style “jubilee”,
meaning a wiping out of sovereign and consumer debts.
At the end of The
Utopia of Rules, Graeber distinguishes between play and games – the
former involving free form creativity, the latter requiring
participants to abide by rules. While there is pleasure in the latter
(it is, to quote from the subtitle of the book, one of the secret
joys of bureaucracy), it is the former that excites him as an
antidote to our form filling red-taped society.
Just before he finishes
his dinner, Graeber tells me about the new idea he’s toying with.
“It’s about the play principle in nature. Usually, he argues, we
project agency to nature insofar as there is some kind of economic
interest. Hence, for instance, Richard Dawkins’s The
Selfish Gene. I begin to understand the idea better– it’s an
anarchist theory of organisation starting with insects and animals
and proceeding to humans. He is suggesting that, instead of being
rule-following economic drones of capitalism, we are essentially
playful. The most basic level of being is play rather than economics,
fun rather than rules, goofing around rather than filling in forms.
Graeber himself certainly seems to be having more fun than seems
proper for a respected professor.
(Source)