I've been studying, among other things, Milton Friedman in the past few days. Of course, I'm no economist, so I can only read relatively nontechnical things.
Here's the resources I've looked at:
Friedman's interview with Charlie Rose in 2005(?).
Friedman's Nobel Prize lecture.
Friedman's interview with PBS, in particular his remarks on Chile.
Friedman's draft on Indian planning.
I've just got Friedman's Capitalism and Freedom and will go through it soon.
I'll make a detailed post (or a few) on Friedman later. A few remarks though.
Friedman, in his own words, is a '"libertarian" with a small "l" and a "Republican" with a capital "R"'. I happen to hold a "left-libertarian" or "anarchist" view myself with mistrust of govt. and states. So, immediately there is a certain point of agreement and many of his observations concur with my own.
However, when it comes to, say markets and corporations, I feel that for the argument to be consistent, I should be mistrustful of corporations as well. Anarchism is basically opposition to power. On the other hand, Friedman notes that corporations are "bad" only when they're tied in with the state (which I feel they are).
That's regarding philosophy. I'll elaborate more in this and also primarily concentrate on the implementation of the philosophy.
Showing posts with label anarchism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anarchism. Show all posts
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Anarchism & Socialism
The following is a description taken from George Orwell's book, Homage to Catalonia. It's a firsthand account of one of the few really successful libertarian socialist revolutions in history - The Spanish Civil War.
It was the first time that I had ever been in a town where the working class was in the saddle. Practically every building of any size had been seized by the workers and was draped with red flags or with the red and black flag of the Anarchists; every wall was scrawled with the hammer and sickle and with the initials of the revolutionary parties; almost every church had been gutted and its images burnt. Churches here and there were being systematically demolished by gangs of workmen. Every shop and cafe had an inscription saying that it had been collectivized; even the bootblacks had been collectivized and their boxes painted red and black. Waiters and shop-walkers looked you in the face and treated you as an equal. Servile and even ceremonial forms of speech had temporarily disappeared. Nobody said 'Senior' or 'Don' or even 'Usted'; everyone called everyone else 'Comrade' and 'Thou', and said 'Salud!' instead of 'Buenos dias'. Tipping was forbidden by law; almost my first experience was receiving a lecture from a hotel manager for trying to tip a lift-boy. There were no private motor-cars, they had all been commandeered, and all the trams and taxis and much of the other transport were painted red and black. The revolutionary posters were everywhere, flaming from the walls in clean reds and blues that made the few remaining advertisements look like daubs of mud. Down the Ramblas, the wide central artery of the town where crowds of people streamed constantly to and fro, the loudspeakers were bellowing revolutionary songs all day and far into the night. And it was the aspect of the crowds that was the queerest thing of all. In outward appearance it was a town in which the wealthy classes had practically ceased to exist. Except for a small number of women and foreigners there were no 'well-dressed' people at all. Practically everyone wore rough working-class clothes, or blue overalls, or some variant of the militia uniform. All this was queer and moving.
He goes on to say:
There was much in it that I did not understand, in some ways I did not even like it, but I recognized it immediately as a state of affairs worth fighting for
It was the first time that I had ever been in a town where the working class was in the saddle. Practically every building of any size had been seized by the workers and was draped with red flags or with the red and black flag of the Anarchists; every wall was scrawled with the hammer and sickle and with the initials of the revolutionary parties; almost every church had been gutted and its images burnt. Churches here and there were being systematically demolished by gangs of workmen. Every shop and cafe had an inscription saying that it had been collectivized; even the bootblacks had been collectivized and their boxes painted red and black. Waiters and shop-walkers looked you in the face and treated you as an equal. Servile and even ceremonial forms of speech had temporarily disappeared. Nobody said 'Senior' or 'Don' or even 'Usted'; everyone called everyone else 'Comrade' and 'Thou', and said 'Salud!' instead of 'Buenos dias'. Tipping was forbidden by law; almost my first experience was receiving a lecture from a hotel manager for trying to tip a lift-boy. There were no private motor-cars, they had all been commandeered, and all the trams and taxis and much of the other transport were painted red and black. The revolutionary posters were everywhere, flaming from the walls in clean reds and blues that made the few remaining advertisements look like daubs of mud. Down the Ramblas, the wide central artery of the town where crowds of people streamed constantly to and fro, the loudspeakers were bellowing revolutionary songs all day and far into the night. And it was the aspect of the crowds that was the queerest thing of all. In outward appearance it was a town in which the wealthy classes had practically ceased to exist. Except for a small number of women and foreigners there were no 'well-dressed' people at all. Practically everyone wore rough working-class clothes, or blue overalls, or some variant of the militia uniform. All this was queer and moving.
He goes on to say:
There was much in it that I did not understand, in some ways I did not even like it, but I recognized it immediately as a state of affairs worth fighting for
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