The Problem with Throwing People Away Is That They Don't Go Away

Before my main content today, a bit of a prologue. The end of last year I wrote a post titled The Details Don't Matter. The main idea:

Everything anyone has ever said about the idea of God has been filtered by their specific, situated experiences and their limited ability to understand the idea. Each is right in some ways for its place and time. And each is wrong in some ways for being tied to a place and time.

That idea could also be stated the way this meme does (no idea the original source, and I wish I knew):

I believe there is one God, and she was like a single woman, and she was just dating. She went out on multiple dates with multiple prophets.

That's how it happened. She said the exact same thing to different prophets. Exact same thing.

But because they were men they understood different shit and wrote different shit down and that became religions. That's all religion is. It's mansplaining.

For just a little more context, a longer excerpt from The Details Don't Matter:

I've been exposed to many different ways of expressing faith and can argue what theological details those different expressions communicate/teach and why it theoretically matters. Yet, ultimately, it doesn't really matter to me.

The biggest thing I took away from my seminary experience is that we spend far too much time and energy arguing about details that ultimately distract us from what's important. . . . I understand why the dogma exists, but I don't believe in it. Even such basic, foundational ideas like Jesus was divine, rose again in the flesh, and saved everyone through his sacrifice; it doesn't really matter to me whether those are literal or merely symbolic ideas. Those are just details we shouldn't get hung up on.

Even if we could perceive and understand Divinity completely and truly--which we can't--we would still only be able to express the ideas to others in ways we know. Different languages and metaphors communicate things differently. We necessarily make use of what we know and can't reference things we've never experienced (that others have). . . . Everything anyone has ever said about the idea of God has been filtered by their specific, situated experiences and their limited ability to understand the idea. . . . 

I don't stop with Christianity. To use my color metaphor, Christians have spent millennia arguing about which shade of blue is best while rejecting all other colors, but I see all colors as valid and important. They all spring from the same source. Each is right in some ways for its place and time. And each is wrong in some ways for being tied to a place and time. . . . 

Don't judge or belittle or try to change the way others experience the Divine, because being human means their experience will always, by default, be different than yours. Different is no better or worse, merely different. Allow them to know God in their way just as you know God in yours, and do your best to see that you are both experiencing a part of the same Divinity. . . . 

Don't get caught up fighting about details, instead help each other find God in whatever way works best for one another. There is no one best way.

I bring all this up because the book I want to share today features a protagonist working to grow a new religion she has created.

Earlier last fall, in Amused, Horrified, and Confused Gratitude, I shared my thoughts about Octavia E. Butler's Parable of the Sower. I have now read the sequel. Of that first book, I wrote:

An incredibly prescient story--published in 1993; set later this decade--about life during the gradual collapse of U.S. civilization due to extreme income inequality and global warming, and about one young woman's attempts both to survive and to find community through the creation of a new understanding of God. The story that emerges is equal parts desperate, harsh existence and insightful wisdom that demands we take a long, hard look at ourselves and try to find something redeeming. I can understand why there's renewed interest in the title lately; it's a book whose time has come.

Prescient. Last week the news was dominated by the leak of a draft decision from the Supreme Court overturning the legality of abortion established in Roe v. Wade, based on the Fourteenth Amendment. In Earthseed book 2, Butler wrote:

The Thirteenth and Fourteenth Amendments--the ones abolishing slavery and guaranteeing citizenship rights--still exist, but they've been so weakened by custom, by Congress and the various state legislatures, and by recent Supreme Court decisions that they don't much matter.

Congress lately has refused to protect citizen rights that are being chipped away by other decisions and the various state legislatures, many of those rights based on the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Amendments.

Saying this seems unnecessary, but our previous President was elected on a promise to "make America great again." He endorsed a narrow type of Christianity and found vague, deniable ways of encouraging his followers to attack those who didn't fit their definition of acceptable. This 1998 book features the election of a character who does the same (see below).

And, of course, everything in these books is propelled by global warming. Things are moving a bit more slowly for us in reality than predicted in these books, but it seems they are well on their way to happening. For more on that, see Thinking Like a Planet from last month.

Here is my review of Parable of the Talents by Octavia E. Butler.

The second half of Lauren Oya Olamina's story. In an afterword interview in the edition I read, Butler says the two books started as one continuous story until logistics compelled her to divide it in half.

I intended to write the fictional autobiography of Lauren Olamina--her story of her struggle to spread her beliefs in the hope that those beliefs would redirect people away from the chaos and destructiveness into which they have fallen and toward a consuming, creative long-term goal.

This title continues the story begun in Parable of the Sower, picking up five uneventful years later. A framing device of Olamina's daughter has been added, which provides an interesting perspective and complexity, another layer of depth. Otherwise they could very well be combined into one long book.

It continues, as I said in my review of the first title, a story of life during the gradual collapse of U.S. civilization due to extreme income inequality and global warming, and about one young woman's attempts both to survive and to find community through the creation of a new understanding of God.

The global warming dynamic is still present--so many people have fled north, for instance, that Alaska has closed its borders, seceded from the Union, and declared itself an independent nation; which then allies with Canada in a war against the rest of the U.S.--but the larger, more immediate threat to Lauren and her community is a new president.

He is the founder of the Christian fundamentalist denomination called "Christian America," and he gets elected by promising to "make America great again." (Yes, really; published in 1998.) His followers begin an underground campaign to burn competing places of worship and convert or persecute everyone else.

Jarret condemns the burnings, but does so in such mild language that his people are free to hear what they want to hear. As for the beatings, the tarring and feathering, and the destruction of "heathen houses of devil-worship," he has a simple answer: "Join us! Our doors are open to every nationality, every race! Leave your sinful past behind, and become one of us. Help us to make America great again."

This half of the story also focuses much more explicitly on Olamina's work growing her new religion; which, of course, puts her in direct conflict with Jarret's people, and she suffers terribly for it.

Butler once again dissects and critiques many of the worst aspects of human society, displaying the evils we're capable of. (Be warned: this is grim, horrific stuff.) She provides a fascinating look at the role religion plays in society, both good and bad, and a believable description of how a new religion might be started by just the right person. The main narrative holds Olamina in high regard, as she builds a new sense of community based on compassion from the crumbled ruins of what was, even as the frame provided by the daughter, looking back from the future, criticizes her necessary flaws (such as her drive for (benevolent) power and her ability to manipulate people). It is a powerful and ultimately hopeful story.

An introduction to Olamina's religion, filtered through her daughter:

"God is Change," my mother believed. That was what she said in the first of her verses in Earthseed: The First Book of the Living.

        All that you touch

        You Change.

        All that you Change

        Changes you.

        The only lasting truth

        Is Change.

        God

        Is Change.

The words are harmless, I suppose, and metaphorically true. At least she began with some species of truth. And now she's touched me one last time with her memories, her life, and her damned Earthseed.

An example of the world she lives in:

Indenturing indigents, young and old, is much in fashion now. The Thirteenth and Fourteenth Amendments--the ones abolishing slavery and guaranteeing citizenship rights--still exist, but they've been so weakened by custom, by Congress and the various state legislatures, and by recent Supreme Court decisions that they don't much matter. Indenturing indigents is supposed to keep them employed, teach them a trade, feed them, house them, and keep them out of trouble. In fact, it's just one more way of getting people to work for nothing or almost nothing. Little girls are valued because they can be used in so many ways, and they can be coerced into being quick, docile, disposable labor.

And a section with her in the midst of converting a traveling companion into a follower:

"Do I seem normal to you?"

I couldn't help seeing where she was going with that. "We're survivors, Len. You are. I am. Most of Georgetown is. All of Acorn was. We've been slammed around in all kinds of ways. We're all wounded. We're healing as best we can. And, no, we're not normal. Normal people wouldn't have survived what we've survived. If we were normal we'd be dead."

That made her cry. I just held her. No doubt she had been repressing far too much in recent years. When had anyone last held her and let her cry? I held her. After a while, she lay down, and I thought she was falling asleep. Then she spoke.

"If God is Change, then . . . then who loves us? Who cares about us? Who cares for us?"

"We care for one another," I said. "We care for ourselves and one another." And I quoted,

        "Kindness eases Change.

        Love quiets fear."

At that, she surprised me. She said, "Yes, I liked that one." And she finished the quote:

        "And a sweet and powerful

        Positive obsession

        Blunts pain,

        Diverts rage,

        And engages each of us

        In the greatest,

        The most intense

        Of our chosen struggles."

And, somehow, this refugee with nothing, just trying to survive a society that has largely decided she is an undesirable, finds a way to engage people in building new community as part of the quest to send Humanity to the stars. It is a powerful story.

A fascinating and insightful book.

As you might guess, I find Butler's exploration of religion particularly fascinating. The process of creation and Olamina's early attempts to spread her beliefs. Here's another bit from her holy book that I like:

Partnership is giving, taking, learning, teaching, offering the greatest possible benefit while doing the least possible harm. Partnership is mutualistic symbiosis. Partnership is life.

Any entity, any process that cannot or should not be resisted or avoided must somehow be partnered. Partner one another. Partner diverse communities. Partner life. Partner any world that is your home. Partner God. Only in partnership can we thrive, grow, Change. Only in partnership can we live.

Partnership is life. Only in partnership can we live. You could also say we are social creatures to our core and you can find God in others.

I find this interesting because of what it says about seeing like an artist, seeing truly, learning empathy; and how that sight and empathy can be used like a tool; and, like any tool, used for good or bad purposes.

Drawing someone gives me an excellent excuse to study them and let myself feel what it seems to me that they feel. . . . In a rough and not altogether dependable way, drawing a person helps me become that person and, to be honest, it helps me manipulate that person. Everything teaches.

In the author interview at the end of the book, Butler says she didn't want to like Olamina because, in order to succeed, Olamina needed to desire power and be able to manipulate others to get it.

This comes from near the end of the book when the protagonists are talking with someone who had to leave the teaching profession. It is an extrapolation of current trends and, thankfully, not reality, but I think we're further along that course now than when she wrote it.

She had once been a teacher in a public school in San Francisco. The school had closed 15 years after she began teaching. That was during the early twenties when so many public school systems around the country gave up the ghost and closed their doors. Even the pretense of having an educated populace was ending. Politicians shook their heads and said sadly that universal education was a failed experiment. Some companies began to educate the children of their workers at least well enough to enable them to become their next generation of workers. Company towns began then to come back into fashion. They offered security, employment, and education. That was all very well, but the company that educated you owned you until you paid off the debt you owed them. You were an indentured person, and if they couldn't use you themselves, they could trade you off to another division of the company--or another company. You, like your education, became a commodity to be bought or sold.

There were still a few public school systems in the country, limping along, doing what they could, but these had more in common with city jails than with even the most mediocre private, religious, or company schools. It was the business of responsible parents to see to the education of their children, somehow. Those who did not were bad parents. It was to be hoped that social, legal, and religious pressures would sooner or later force even bad parents to do their duty toward their offspring.

"So," Nia said, "poor, semiliterate, and illiterate people became financially responsible for their children's elementary education. If they were alcoholics or addicts or prostitutes or if they had all they could do just to feed their kids and maybe keep some sort of roof over their heads, that was just too bad! And no one thought about what kind of society we were building with such stupid decisions. People who could afford to educate their children in private schools were glad to see the government finally stop wasting their tax money, educating other people's children. They seemed to think they lived on Mars. They imagined that a country filled with poor, uneducated, unemployable people somehow wouldn't hurt them!"

They imagined that a country filled with poor, uneducated, unemployable people somehow wouldn't hurt them! There's a reason we have free public education. It makes us all better as a whole.

Lauren meant this next snippet in the context of giving people something they wanted via her religion, but I find it true in many ways.

The world is full of needy people. They don't all need the same things, but they all need purpose. Even some of the ones with plenty of money need purpose.

We all need to find purpose.

The next three quotes are not from the book itself, but from the interview with Butler in the afterward.

Sometimes the only thing more dangerous than frightened, confused, desperate people looking for solutions is frightened, confused, desperate people finding and settling for truly bad solutions.

Happens far too often.

Shortly after I finished Parable of the Sower, I read an L.A. Times story about convicts being forbidden to take college classes. Why? So they would not benefit from their crimes, so they would not learn in prison what others must pay to learn outside of prison.

See also: empathy-driven enforcement vs. punishment-driven enforcement in my last post, Empathy Works: Respect, Dignity, Humanity. The principles of empathy-driven enforcement work better than punishment-driven enforcement with just about everyone.

And this. This just says it all.

The problem, of course, with throwing people away is that they don't go away. They stay in the society that turned its back on them. And whether that society likes it or not, they find all sorts of things to do.

Here in California, a few years ago voters passed an initiative intended to prevent illegal aliens from using our schools and hospitals. The courts have so far prevented this fantastically stupid law from being enforced, but what bothers me is, a majority of voting Californians thought it would be a really good idea to share our state with large numbers of sick, uneducated people. Of course, the true goal was to force the illegals out, but as long as there are jobs here--even dirty, ill-paid, dangerous jobs--needy people from other countries will come here. Best they maintain their health, and in doing so, maintain the public health. And best their children go to school and become the educated Americans that the country will need for a positive future. Parable of the Talents and Parable of the Sower, after all, are about the kind of society we might wind up with otherwise.

Best they maintain their health, and in doing so, maintain the public health. And best their children go to school and become the educated Americans that the country will need for a positive future.

Making some of us better makes all of us better.

I'll follow that up with some things from my recent feed; things related to Butler's book and related to her extrapolated worries.

This showed up on Facebook the day after the Supreme Court draft was released, though it represents four related issues: public health masking for the Covid-19 pandemic, abortion choice, gender identity, and race-related gun violence. From Hired Hand Studio:

As it has always been, the white men get all the choices.

Speaking to the idea of prisons as a form of indentured servitude, there is this Twitter thread. I haven't researched it, but I'm operating on the assumption that this is not a real person or at least his claims to own prisons are not true, but he is giving real facts and numbers and describing things real people have done--just the real people prefer to operate in the shadows because acknowledging it like this would be bad PR, so he's is creating this narrative to bring them out into the open.

The full text:

I've owned and operated private prisons for over two decades. Private prisons are the single greatest real estate investment vehicle around. Here is what I have learned.

Owning a private prison gives an investor a recurring and predictable stream of high margin revenue. The government contracts are long-term in nature and very lucrative. I have managed to make over $35k per prisoner annually. Let’s breakdown a deal.

I purchased the Eagle Nest Facility in 2008. Total cost was $30 million with 25% down ($7.5 million). The facility has 1,200 beds implying a cost per bed of only $25,000 (building a new prison is in excess of $150k per bed).

I entered into a perpetual contract with the United States Marshall Services at $20 million per year with 5% escalators per year. In the first year we generated $5 million in free cash flow, a 67% cash on cash return.

Prison owners get paid per person. The more people the more money. Here are the economics per person:

- $100/day per person in revenues

- $25/day per person in variable cost

- $35/day per person fixed costs

- $40/day per person in straight margin

To increase my cash flow I spent a significant amount of money on lobbying efforts to win a judge who was hard on crime. This paid off by the end of year two. To pay me back the judge sent most young men (higher margin than older men) to my facility. Cash flow went up 3x.

By year four cash flows were $15 million at 95% occupancy. To maximize my investment I started to market the facility to outside investors. Halfway through year four we sold the facility to private equity for 10x cash flow or $150 million.

In four years I turned $7.5 million into a clean $150 million. I took this money and reinvested it into other prisons across southern states. Today I manage an investment portfolio of over $1.5 billion in prison real estate.

Tips:

– Get financing from individual investors

– Focus on states “hard on crime”

– Prisoners = money. You need crime to profit

– You can use prisoners to generate ancillary revenues at dirt cheap wages (incredibly high margin)

– Become best friends with judges

Private prisons are one of the most overlooked and undervalued real estate vehicles out there. With a little sweat equity and American entrepreneurship you can become extremely wealthy through this passive investment. Shoot me a follow if you want to learn more about investing

The greatest thing about this business is that I have never paid taxes on any of my millions because of the unique U.S. tax law of depreciation on real estate and 1031 gains. Did I mention that I received $35 million in PPP loans that were forgiven? Greatest business ever.

Another, similar science fiction extrapolation come from MARTians by Blythe Woolston:

Governor: Congratulations, students, yes, congratulations. I'm pleased to announce that you are all, as of this morning, graduated.

My brain does the math: impossible. This message must be intended for another classroom, another school. We here in 2-B have another year and a half before we are fully educated and ready for the future.

Governor: In the interest of efficiency, your school . . . (glances at her phone) . . . Frederick Winslow Taylor High School, is closing permanently as of this date. Each student in attendance will have a personal appointment with the homeroom technician who will provide an e-tificate of graduation and referral to an appropriate entry=level position. We are extremely proud of all of you on this occasion. Welcome to an exciting future. . . . 

"Abernathy?" says Ms. Brody, and the first of my 2-B classmates squeezes between the crowded rows of desks from the back corner to the front. He stands beside Ms. Brody's teaching station while she points to her touch screen. Abernathy checks to see if the content has transferred properly to his phone. When he turns to leave, the door is blocked by a security marshal in black body armor. Abernathy knows the drill. He leans his forehead against the wall and puts hi hands behind his back so his wrists can be zipcuffed together. Even though it is awkward for him, Abernathy flips the whole room the bird as he leaves. His heart isn't in it. He's just doing it because it would be impolite not to say good-bye. . . . 

I sit and wait to take my turn with Ms. Brody, my turn to graduate. . . . 

Ms. Brody taps her screen and then looks up at me while she says, "Zoe, Zoe Zindleman. Did you know, Zoe, that you are my best student?" . . . 

"There was a time, Zoe, when a student like you would be going to university--a real university--after graduation. You could have been an economist or an engineer or an educations technician, like me." Ms. Brody' head droops forward, and she covers her face with her hands. "I'm so sorry, Zoe," she says, the words a little muffled by her palms, then she straightens, wipes her face, and continues. "But this is not that time. Zoe, you have been invited to apply for an entry-level position at both AllMART and Q-MART. Please check your phone to make certain that your e-tificate of graduation and your invitations to apply are transmitted." . . . 

The school halls are almost empty. There are a few end-of-the-alphabet stragglers like me. There is also a long, snaking line of students wearing plastic riot shackles and zipcuffs. A bus will come soon to take them to the penitentiary. Everyone needs an entry-level position. Everyone needs to start somewhere, get that practical experience, and develop natural skills. Even if, like Abernathy's, the natural skill waiting to be developed is cruelty.

----[later]----

Chad Manley: . . . The real story tonight comes to us from the campaign trail, where the Governor is rolling out a new jobs program.

Governor: Jobs. That's what people want and that's why they vote for me. A vote for me is a vote for jobs. Jobs. Job creators. Today we are here to cut the ribbon on a new facility, one that will provide jobs. And not just jobs--we are putting criminals to work. This empty, useless building . . . (The Governor waves.)

Hey, I know that building. It is Frederick Winslow Taylor High School, where I spent 2,942 hours in Room 2-B. I guess it is empty and useless now.

Governor: This waste government property is going to be put to use as a guano-mining facility. We--our corporate partner is Bats of Happiness--have already seeded in the colonies of bats that will be producing black gold. By next week, the facility will be fully staffed, putting prisoners to work as productive citizens.

It's a possible future that is already happening in many ways now.

They imagined that a country filled with poor, uneducated, unemployable people somehow wouldn't hurt them! There's a reason we have free public education. It makes us all better as a whole. Best they maintain their health, and in doing so, maintain the public health. And best their children go to school and become the educated Americans that the country will need for a positive future. It's what's best for the common good.