Latin America is looking for alternatives to corporate globalization, and with good
reason.
The Center for Economic Policy Research recently summed up results of the neo-liberal
experiment that has been imposed on the region since the mid-1970s. Between
1970 and 2000: tariffs on imported goods were halved, most controls on
investment inflows and outflows were lifted or drastically reduced, and
state-owned enterprises were privatized on a massive scale. (In the 1990s
alone they amounted to 20 times the value of Russian privatizations after
collapse of the Soviet Union.) The International Monetary Fund had predicted
that per capita income and economic growth would take off. In fact: “Income
per capita for the region grew by more than 80% from 1960-1979, but only about
11% from 1980-2000…the region has suffered its worst 25-year economic
performance in modern Latin American history, even including the years of the
Great Depression.”
Resistence to corporate globalization started with the 1994 uprising of the Zapatistas.
But the region’s social movements have also been busily constructing viable
alternatives. More recently, governments opposing neo-liberal policies have
joined this construction, voted into power by clear majorities in Venezuela,
Brazil, Argentina, Chile, and Bolivia. In Mexico, with elections coming July
6, an anti-corporate globalization front-runner is currently increasing his
lead.
The
alternatives that are cropping up are highly varied, both between and within
countries. On a recent trip to Argentina, Brazil and Venezuela, we visited some
of these initiatives and talked with their creators.
We’d
heard that the solidarity economy was advancing in these countries. Since 1989
we have been active in the worker cooperative movement in the U.S. In the wake
of 19th century utopian religious communities, the U.S. created
thousands of housing, rural electric, farming, and child care co-ops and credit
unions. A social-change-oriented part of the movement was added in the 1960s:
roughly 300 worker co-ops are now run by about 10,000 worker-owners who share
profits and vote on policy and managers. Often located in college towns like
Amherst, Berkeley, and Madison, they print books, consult on computers, and
make bikes, furniture, photo-voltaics and precision tools. The movement
newsletter we’ve helped edit since 1993, Grassroots Economic Organizing,
helped start our U.S. Federation of Worker Coops. But compared to nations with
deeper traditions our movement is small. We have about the same number of
worker coops as France but 4.8 times France’s population.
Worker
co-ops are part of “the social and solidarity economy,” which can be defined as
production, distribution and consumption activities aimed at democratizing the
economy and thereby subordinating profit to human ends. It embraces movements
for: ethical consumption, fair trade, local currencies and barter systems,
micro-finance and credit unions, socially conscious investment, and co-ops of
all kinds. We came home feeling confirmed in our belief that worker co-ops and
the solidarity economy are major tools for deep and positive social
transformation.
Let’s
start with Carlos Sanchez, manager of a Super Mercal grocery co-op in Caracas,
elected by his neighborhood assembly. He proudly pointed to basic staples --
flour, oil, milk -- that were also products of co-ops. Such
“intercooperation” did not happen overnight. (See photo.) Instead of nationalizing
on the Cuban model, the Chavez government, wielding the new constitution of
1999, launched a national plan in 2001: oil wealth went to universal literacy
and health care but also to a fund to extend credit to workforces starting up
(or converting to) worker co-ops. Behind the fund is a full cabinet-level
Ministry of the Popular Economy. There are glitches. Some Best Western hotel
workers we met wanted to cooperativize but feared that as new owners they might
lose union-protected worker benefits. “Cooperatives are the businesses of the
future,” holds former Planning and Development Minister Felipe Perez-Marti,
since workers who own their firm must seek its efficiency and success. And if
as economic agents “people are solidaristic, they will elect a
solidaristic government.”
As
government-supported cooperativism was elicited in Venezuela, co-ops were
springing up in Argentina like mushrooms. The metaphor is not entirely apt
since for a period in 2002-2003 elements of a full solidarity economy --
neighborhood assemblies; community gardens, kitchens, dining and cultural
spaces; local currencies and skill banks -- had appeared in all their
variety. The 2001 crisis had made it cost-effective for many Argentine business
owners to lay off whole workforces, seek bankruptcy protection, stash capital
in tax havens, and abandon debt-laden factories. Presto: massive unemployment
and poverty. For older workers this capital flight meant an economic death
sentence. To hold onto jobs and machines, many occupied workplaces -- with
government permission. Why then not cooperativize, produce, and ask for
expropriation? The slogan “Occupy, Resist, Produce” arose. Many co-ops --
often without union support -- now face former owners who, seeing their abandoned
plants operated profitably by workers, want them back. Worker co-ops are the
part solidarity economy of 2002-2003 that survives and thrives, reflecting
Argentina’s deep worker co-op tradition. With one-seventh the population of the
US, the movement that sprang up since 2001 is already the size of the U.S.’s!
Take Cooperativa Unidos por el Calzado (CUC), formerly a major Gatic shoe factory.
(See photo) The owners had racked up large debts to workers and the state.
Again invoking worker’s needs, and with union support, they applied for and got
new subsides -- but then further cut pension payments and wages further as
they declared bankruptcy. It was the last straw. The factory was under a
judge’s control when the workers, with neighborhood support, took occupancy,
cooperativized, and restarted production. The cooperative has since been
granted a 5-year temporary expropriation in which to prove itself, with
usufruct of the machines and building. It is not able to hire back as members
many former workers, but it is keeping its head above water as we write.
Hold on a minute! It may be said here that such
occupations are plain theft! An honest re-affirmation of private property
rights would put people like CUC in jail. And secondly, this co-op scheme is
impossible because of the greediness inherent in human nature.
To
the first complaint we note that modern private property is always
conditional, never absolute. A corporation, for example, is chartered in the
name of the people to serve the public good and this charter can be withdrawn
when it ceases to do that.
To
the second objection, we point out that these “impossible” co-ops exist
and remark that, like greed, generosity is also a human possibility. Which
of these (and other) possibilities gets elicited often enough to appear as
“human nature” depends on which is encouraged by the dominant social practices.
For
our parts we incline toward Perez-Marti’s observation that setting up a
cooperative system “is like a virtuous circle, where the ownership structure
generates solidarity, and this solidarity in turn generates stability in the
business.” So: “in the long term, under stable relationships, I don’t gain
that much by stealing and all sides benefit more from not stealing.”
Yet there is a radical incompatibility between a
regime that allows one human to profit from the labor of another merely because
the latter works on the former’s private property, and one in which businesses
are held in common and all profits (and losses) are shared. Neither has a
monopoly on morality. But the claims they make about what morality itself is,
are mutually exclusive. Casuistry and combinations are thus ruled out; we
must choose which one will be our morality. And history now seems to be
imposing this choice on us.
We will devote a third article to the solidarity
economies of Brazil and Mexico and a fourth and final one to the recent World
Social Forum in Caracas.