8th of March

It was the 8th of March yesterday and for the very first time since long, there was no 8th of March gathering to go to. Unsettling. Can’t think of a greater contrast with last year, when i had to decide whether to be in Belgium or in Istanbul for the 8th, and ended up being around for the preparations of Istanbul, and flying in to do 8th of March stuff in Leuven and Antwerpen. Can’t help thinking of the Belgian Women’s Day (11th of November) two years ago when María and i decided to take a break and not go (imagine, being able to make the decision not to go, yet another possibility in places where Women’s Day means something) where we got into the dream of coming to this place, and how disconnected i feel from that dream now.

But it ended up being sweet – Berna and Feza invited us to go to the screening of Darwin’s Nightmare with film-maker Hubert Sauper in the grand Del Mar cinema theater. Hubert just got back from the Academy Awards where those stupid penguins (of course the animals are not stupid, it’s the film) won instead of the fish. An impressive film about globalization, its big structural mechanism and its little agents who most often know well what they are doing, what is happening to them, but see little alternative. The images are still running around in my head, a film to be seen and digested slowly. Maybe i’ll write something more about it later.

There was a march on the 7th, Marcha Laboral – Custodians March for Justice. It was on campus at 6.30 pm, so custodians could join and we could we could march to the residence of the Chancellor, Denise Denton, to demand that the custodians’ wages are raised at least to the level of those in neighboring colleges (Cabrillo, Monterey) now – and then later we can go on to discuss living wages. There is no excuse, the financial scandals (of excessive spending on top wages) the university got itself involved makes it quite indecent not to do so. One custodian was talking about how she works on this campus since 15 years and earns only $ 4 more than when she started. And then everybody is hit by the high PG&E bills this winter – raising the wages now would amount to nothing more than very basic dignity.

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Try to imagine how such a march looks like. A dark cold forest, for that is how campus looks like after 6 pm these days. There were more of us than last time, we were perhaps 80 (and yes, there are hundreds of students living in well-hidden residences all over campus, but most of them don’t come out for a march, that is how campus looks like these days). So there we marched through a dark cold forest, holding candles to light our way. And chanting for ourselves and for the ancient forest. El pueblo unido jamás será vencido never sounded more ghostly, and it so much more resembled some spiritual ritual instead of a political mobilization.

A great need to get my head around the difficulties (to think well, to write something that could make a difference, to do politics) and traps of campuses like these, and i take look at what Chris called the idiotic (and i think i agree) book of Baudrillard on America. Sadly enough his observation on the UCSC campus is not so far off:

“There is a science-fiction story in which a number of very rich people wake up one morning in their luxury villas in the mountains to find that they are encircled by a transparent and insuperable obstancle, a wall of glass that has appeared in the night. From the depths of their vitrified luxury, they can still just discern the outside world, the real universe from which they are cut off, which has suddenly become the ideal world. But it is too late. These rich people will die slowly in their aquarium like goldfish. Some of the university campuses here remind me of this.

Lost among the pine trees, the fields, and the riviers (it is an old ranch that was donated to the university), and made up of little blocks, each one out of sight of the others, like the people who live in them: this one is Santa Cruz. It’s a bit like the Bermuda Triangle (or Santa Barbara). Everything vanishes. Everthing gets sucked in. Total decentring, total community. After the ideal city of the future, the ideal cosy nook. Nothing converges on a single point, neither the traffic, nor the architecture, nor authority. But, by that very token, it also becomes impossible to hold a demonstation: where could you assembly? Demonstrations can only go round and round in the forest, where the participants alone can see them. Of all the Californian campuses, famous for their spaciousness and charm, this is the most idealized, the most naturalized. It is the epitome of all that is beautiful.”

where’s the love?

Valentine has been all over the place ever since i arrived here in january. Red everywhere (mostly in shops of course), hearts, announcement of activities… i was sure i’d be ranting about love and capitalism and consumerism in this space today, but that was before we joined the Student Worker Coalition for Justice (SWCJ). Now i can write you about love and justice. SWCJ joined the AFSCEME (American Federation of State, County and Municipal Employees) union in a rally today to demand higher wages for the custodians cleaning and taking care of the campus. Where’s the love drew attention to the fact that wages of custodians on campus are less than in neighboring colleges, that these are not living wages at all, and that the university has a lot to account for with the scandal about manager’s wages and corruption plus the raise in tuition fees. (of course, the state and federal goverments also have a lot to account for, with the cuts in money for education – that wasn’t really mentioned). A big broken heart with messages from custodians and students was given to a representative of the Chancellor.

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Where’s the love action. Got Valentine’s Love or Exploitation?
Did you know that UC custodians make two dollars less than custodians at Cabrillo college and Montery State?
And, UC custodians earn wages that could not meet basic needs for a single adult with a child.
Also, student fees have gone up by 8-10%.
And what is the Chancellor doing about the rampant corruption amongst UC administrators.
Let’s have a happy valentine’s day by demanding that the Chancellor start implementing some justice and start paying a living wage to the workers on campus.

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Même s’il n’y avait pas beaucoup de monde, l’alliance entre les gardiens et les étudiants était beau et fort. N’empêche que une manif dans ce campus au milieu de la forêt m’a fait une drôle d’impression… Inevitablement j’ai du penser aux mots de Kristy – que cette université a été construit (avec le “mauvais example” de Berkeley en tête) de telle manière que la possibilité de révoltes soit reduite. Maria a fait un peu de recherche, et apparement c’est plus compliqué que ca, mais reste qu’il n’y ait pas vraiment de centre, pas de “coeur” au campus et que pour la manif on a marché de la bibliothèque jusqu’au batiment du recteur (un peu caché dans la forêt) avec seulement les redwoods comme nos témoins.

small town blues

In American English, the word “suburb” usually refers to a separate municipality or an unincorporated area outside of a central city, according to Wikipedia.

But this is suburbia without a real city,
only a small town and a campus…

Only small town…

“There is only one good thing about small town
There is only one good use for a small town
There is only one good thing about small town
You know that you want to get out

When you’re growing up in a small town
You know you’ll grow down in a small town
There is only one good use for a small town

You hate it and you’ll know you have to leave”

(Lou Reed and John Cale)

suburbia

So i need to start investigating a bit into this suffocating suburbia thing which troubles me so much.
And look what i found, the suburbia project on the Living Room Urban Ecology web zine.
An excerpt from Philip Allsop’s Why Suburbia Fails, and How to Succeed:

house.gif “Our bizarre zoning regulations that force single-use zones (housing only–no mixed housing and shops or offices etc.) in order to preserve property values, which in turn feed local tax bases, have already wreaked an unintended and hazardous consequence for those who have to live there. We are less fit, less healthy; we use more health care services more frequently and earlier on in our lives than ever before; we spend $12.00 going to the local strip mall just to get a pint of milk (gas cost, car loan/lease or cost of capital plus the car’s depreciation); and we have become so afraid of outsiders from having spent three generations riding about in our hermetically-sealed cars that we incarcerate ourselves in super-sized McMansions and starter-castles behind high walls and security gates.

The idea of community went out of the window long ago when General Motors (see the movie “Taken for a Ride” for more on this) started buying up and destroying suburban transit lines to encourage people to buy cars instead of riding the tram. What was good for GM was good for the country, so the saying went. So, in the re-build of New Orleans and Biloxi for example, chances are that what’s good for the developers will again be deemed “good” for the country. Once again we will probably see tracts of McMansions being extruded from the mud, and unsuspecting new owners happily occupying them, not knowing that those houses will not outlast the warranties on the shiny new built-in appliances. Meanwhile the developers brought in and encouraged by federal and local politicians “to re-build the community lost to Katrina….” will soon be skipping and high-fiving it all the way to the bank.

Today, community remains an idea, but its manifestation seems to be limited to syrupy realtors’ brochures that describe sylvan settings for new developments with “fwightfully Bwitish” or “European” sounding names. These gated tracts are the places that developers and politicians deem proper for most Americans to live in–and it’s killing us by the tens of thousands every year. The great American dream of having a home of one’s own in a nice, clean suburban neighborhood is, I believe, proving to be a waking nightmare with insidious consequences for us, all and from which there are precious few avenues of escape if we continue doing things the way we do them today.

[..] If suburbia as we know it is to change, and cities are to be more livable places, we have to start this education early and often as part of the standard school curriculum. “We shape our buildings; thereafter they shape us” (Winston Churchill). Churchill’s saying is as true today as it was in his lifetime. As a consequence, it is too important to leave the planning, design, and construction of our homes to the developers, the realtors, the builders, and the “architectural designers” who have already amply demonstrated their ignorance about the built environment, as well as their contempt for community.”

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our house

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Kathy’s house bathes in light. The morning sun in my room is such a delight. The golden late afternoon sun visits Maria’s room, where at night the stars and moon shine through the window in the roof. We have an open fire and a big kitchen. A garden with a jacuzzi – something totally unimaginable for us and most of our friends back home in Europe. Here it is part of the lives of many people we come across. It’s amazing to be in the jacuzzi and see the morning sun or the stars at night.

The dark side: our house is in the middle of SUBURBIA. The film set of so many soap operas – we had no difficulties describing it to those friends back home who watch television. Now you’ll have to mow the lawn and put your pick-up truck or four wheel drive on the driveway, Wendy said. Yeah, i might first need to learn how to drive. And then Maria saw the black workers coming in these oh-so-white neighbourhood to mow the lawns. How uncomfortable such this division of labour feels. Fortunately Kathy finds it ridiculous to have a lawn, so our garden is wild. Let’s comfort ourselves by saying that we don’t really fit the cliché, which no doubt is the case for so many people stuck in suburbia. But suburbia continues to exist despite, and also through, all the misfits.

What is suburbia? What i see is a well-organised pattern of broad streets and small parcels of land containing a single house, a garage, a car, a lawn,… An overwhelming feeling of dominion: one individual kingdom besides the other rooted in the absolute rule of private property. The pedestrian walk further down our street just stops all of a sudden. Because somebody’s lawn stretches all the way to the street. Sure. And i’ve hardly ever been bothered by feelings of fear when walking the streets at night of a good number of European cities. But here i must admit that it can get pretty dangerous as soon as it gets dark: without decent public light you simply don’t see a thing (some houses might leave a light burning by the door or on the porch, others don’t). And forget the idea of quickly running down the street to get bread, or some more vegetables, or a bottle of wine. In these endless streets with little dominions there’s not even chance on a lost night shop. Actually, forget the idea of running anywhere, you basically need a car to organise life in a way that is not terribly time consuming.

People are really open and friendly here, that’s a fact. Very refreshing after the way in which people in Belgium can be really unfriendly, uninterested, xenophobic and closed. But being nice and leaving the light on in front of your house is not a replacement for a public sphere and the creation of common goods. The terribly old-fashioned European in me can’t help asking: where’s the polis, where’s the notion of a public sphere, the public good, a political body, a political community? Suburbia as the obscene celebration of their destruction…