We have all been trained to use the phrase “the Economy” without a great deal of thought, often capitalized as if it were a person… or perhaps a god. During this election cycle it has been shorthand for prices.
Sharp observers have noted that price gouging - not inflation - has been responsible for much of the increase in prices at supermarkets, at gas pumps, and in housing. And it is worth noting that price gouging has been very helpful to some indicators of “the economy,” among them the stock market.
But “the economy” is an abstraction for certain kinds of human relationships:
The economy is the relationship between you and the Bangladeshis, Sri Lankans, Indians, and Nepalis who work for Classic Fashion in the Kingdom of Jordan making your Calvin Kleins, your Reeboks and Adidas, your Haynes and Under Armour.
The economy is the relationship between you and the farmworkers in Michoacan who grow and harvest the strawberries you eat in the winter.
The economy is the relationship between you and the Mexicans, Salvadorans, Guatemalans, and Africans who slaughter, butcher, and pack the beef and pork you eat.
It is also the relationship between you and the Mayan eight-year old selling candy on the subway because a European bank flooded her family’s farm and home to build an unnecessary hydroelectric dam so it could market carbon credits.
It is also the relationship between you and the Venezuelan accountant who delivered your Uber Eats on a rented scooter because the United States is starving his family in Caracas as a punishment for voting for Hugo Chavez in 1998.
And it is the relationship between you and the Haitian home health care aide who is here taking care of your grandpa because Haiti has been impoverished by repeated invasions from the United States, largely as a punishment for being a Black country that freed itself from slavery and colonialism.
None of us know more than a handful of these people personally. In 1840 the essayist Thomas Carlyle said that all our relationships were being reduced to an impersonal cash nexus, meaning that “the Economy” strips our relationships of all their human dimensions but one. In that respect you could say that it is a kind of pornography, eliminating any conversation, care, or affection.
Some will argue that we have gained from being in economic relationship with so many people around the world, and that we cannot possibly know all of them. The argument is that our lives would be impoverished if we could only trade for food and clothing and services with people in our immediate area and our immediate circle. We certainly couldn’t have strawberries in the winter. We certainly would own fewer clothes. What we have definitely lost is kinship.
The erasure of kinship was an essential feature of early capitalist development. And I don’t just mean our loss of human ties with our neighbors. Turning human beings into commodities couldn’t be done without denying Black moms' kinship with their own children. Black children could only become transferable commodities - available for sale or as security for loans - if capitalist custom and law denied their kinship with their moms. And not only moms, but dads, too, - even white dads - were denied kinship with their own children. Racial capitalism was so committed to turning Black people into magically-profitable investments that the children of Black women (including the children of Black women and white men) were also permanently enslaved, often the transferable property of their own fathers. Saidiya Hartman has said of this commodification of children that the woman’s birth canal was turned into another Middle Passage. I do not know any stronger example of how the capitalist economy works to dehumanize us and to erase our kinship with one another.
This week it has been about Puerto Ricans. And why do the heralds of racial capitalism have a particular hatred for Puerto Ricans?
It is precisely because they are US citizens and cannot be marginalized and disfranchised by immigration law.
Understand: capitalism doesn’t want to bar Haitians, or Dominicans, or Salvadorans, or Guatemalans. Capitalism relies on them and on their labor.
Capitalism doesn’t hate undocumented immigrants because they are here without papers. Racial capitalism loves workers with no rights. Racial capitalism cannot function without such workers. It doesn’t matter whether they are here in the United States working in agriculture and food processing or they are overseas producing our clothing.
And if you have been feeling economically diminished, well, that is the way capitalism works. It dehumanizes some “other,” often with your enthusiastic cooperation and approval, and then it does the same to you.
I am blessed beyond measure by the surprising number of you who have adopted me as a brother, as a father, as a grandfather. It humbles me. Our kinship enriches my life.
I just ask that you also consider our kinship with that eight-year old selling candy on the subway. I ask that you remember our kinship with that Venezuelan accountant delivering your takeout. I ask that you honor our kinship with the Haitian lady caring for your grandpa.
We are related.