Toward a “punk rock” theological economy?
[Originally posted at Rock and Theology]
I was happy to see Tom Beaudoin grab the bull by the horns with his post on “free” theology and music and the need for theologians to imagine new economies of knowledge production and dissemination. This is an area I’ve been thinking about, especially since I have been trying to bring together punk rock ethics and theology or, in another key, anarchist cultural production and theological production. It’s certainly one more area in which it is clear that rock music and theology can be brought together in creative ways, not only for theologizing on rock music but by letting the knowledge (and the dreaming) generated in our music activity inform our work as theologians—how we think, how we produce, and how we share.
It has been said that one of the great powers of music is its ability to prefigure the “not yet existent.” This can be true of the music itself, but it can also be true in the way music is made and shared. Movements within rock music—and specifically punk rock music and culture—can be a helpful source in reflecting on imagining other theo-economic possibilities because we can identify specific, successful examples of the creation of whole other economies within the notoriously capitalistic rock world. The examples are countless. Some have become more visible than others (I’m thinking here of the enduring witness of Fugazi and Dischord Records as well as the more high-profile [and thus, more ambivalent] example of Radiohead’s In Rainbows album). Other punk rock economies remain more solidly under the radar, intentionally isolated from any channels of capitalist exchange. What might it mean to apply punk rock’s anti-/non-capitalist (to the extent possible) mode of production to what we do as ((punk?) rock) theologians?
I am interested in theologians contributing in whatever ways they can to developing a just alternative economy of knowledge production. But I’m also interested in imagining alternative economies that are authentically alternative, i.e. not just using the internet as another way to do (and sell) theology in the same (or analogous) ways that we always have.
Fresh ideas for “new” economies must be encouraged but rigorously analyzed. Some might seem like great ideas at the start, but upon closer inspection in fact hide new forms of capitalist exploitation. I’m reminded of an idea dreamed up by Warner Music Group’s to allow unlimited downloading of music (through filesharing, blogs, etc.) on college campuses in return for a small royalties charge into the student’s fees. The money would be collected by Warner’s “non-proft” arm Choruss and distributed to labels and artists accordingly.
At first glance, the deal sounds fantastic. A recent piece on the independent music webzine Tiny Mix Tapes goes a little deeper into the issues:
The major issue with this plan, outside of the generally ridiculous premise that all internet users should pay for the losses of artists and labels, is that Choruss claims to be collecting royalties. But for whom? Who would get this money? Surely not indie bands or classical ensembles who are having their music stolen as well. I’d be tempted to say that companies like Warner Music Group will be the big winners with this deal. It would be interesting to hear exactly how they plan to disperse royalties, but Choruss has remained mute on the subject (Billboard). Thus far, Choruss has only announced a sort of monitoring software that will track what is downloaded on networks participating in the program so that royalties may be distributed accordingly. In his speech at Digital Music Forum East, Griffin said, “Choruss will work with, and is discussing the application of, an extensive array of digital music data technologies, and we are open to evaluating all approaches.”But let’s be serious. They can’t monitor illegal downloading now, so there is no reason to believe that Choruss is going to have an accurate idea of what users are downloading. Without any accuracy in the system, artists are then leaving the tracking of potential royalty payments to the labels, who, let’s face it, are far from being concerned about the artists when it comes to cash.
I’m certain that similar issues will arise in whatever alternative economies we theologians help dream up. Part of the problem is our inability to shake our tendency to commodify any and all cultural productions. Of course, such production costs something, and theologians should obviously be compensated for what they do. But I’m not convinced that every reader/listener/user of online media (text, music, video) should or must must pay something for access to that media. There must be other ways to compensate those who who produce. I agree with Mary’s comment that Larry Lessig’ Free Culture (which is available in a few formats online for free, with Larry’s blessing – I also bought the book) is essential reading here.
Perhaps a worthwhile exercise would be to come up with examples of non-capitalist knowledge production, gift economies, etc. (perhaps from the music world, but not limited to it) that we have found particularly inspiring and which incarnate even partially the kind of just economy we desire. I’ve already mentioned in several posts my admiration for the musical ethics of Fugazi and related entities. There are many more examples I could cite, some even more radical than Fugazi. There is also the great witness to non-commodification that some forms of “traditional” or “old time” music represent (although I am aware of the commodification of “hillbilly” music as the birthplace of modern “country” music). I see obvious parallels here with Tom Beaudoin’s writing on imagining free tuition at Jesuit institutions (see his article some time ago in National Catholic Reporter, as well as portions of his new book Witness to Dispossession). I’m also intrigued by the ideas of the folks behind The Disseminary website. Little has happened with the site lately, but I like their vision.
What other examples of alternative economies, musical or otherwise, prefigure the Reign of God in some way?
This is probably beyond the scope of this post, but do you think you could speak more about your issues with the present theological economy. Either briefly here in the comments or more fully in its own post.
Adam,
of course I can’t speak for the author, but I can state one of my issues with the present theological economy – crippling debt. We expect our future pastors and scholars to spend four years earning an M.Div and then perhaps another four in a Ph.D program. After this, they enter ministry with a debt load that can number well into the six figures. I am more and more convinced that debt enslaves Christians to not be able to do and be what Christ call us to. I do like the idea of apprenticeship and have experienced it myself to some degree when I worked at a small urban church. I (and many other staff although not all) were hired despite lacking a traditional degree. This had its pitfalls to be sure – not everyone was motivated to spend time in theological study and no formal program existed, but it did give me a great learning experience that I never would have received through a traditional seminary. I’m more of a “for five bucks in late fees at the public library…” kind of student anyway, although the danger of that approach is that you have to force yourself to reflect upon, write down, and talk with others about what you are reading or else it doesn’t stick. I am very much interested in alternative methods of education and will have to read some of these other posts. An approach that I think could bear fruit is one that I have seen at a local cafe here in Denver. It is called the SAME (So All May Eat) Cafe. The customers set the price for their meals, but the meals are not free. I could pay one dollar or five dollars for a cup of soup. If I can’t pay, I can volunteer one hour of my time in exchange for a meal. They have been in business for over three years now and are doing well. I like this approach because too often when we offer something for free we are devaluing a good or service that has real value to the point where the commitment to exchange becomes completely one sided. However, if I have to pay something as long as I am not paying absolutely nothing (a la In Rainbows), a commitment is required on my part. Why do you think so many students who audit classes for free don’t take them seriously? They don’t have to. Anyway, I am rambling by now….
Tim, let me ramble back at you…
I agree about the debt stuff, but even more with the alternative learning approaches. I wasn’t fortunate to get funding in Graduate School. I took out loans, but what was really bad, is that as a result I had almost no access to the professors or my classmates, it took me a year and a half to make the one or two friends I do have from Dayton. I had to live at home with parents who weren’t very supportive of my career decision, work a job and my girlfriend kept wondering if I was going to propose or not. Needless to say, my studies suffered as a result, and I know I could have done much better.
Now, when I applied for a PhD program I could only get one of my professors from Dayton to write me a recommendation (but this had more to do with the two other people I asked being rather hard to pin down), and I didn’t get in. But I’m sure that if I was able to spend twenty hours a week essentially networking with professors and classmates the chips would have fell differently. Debt, but more so the own policies of the department made me a worse scholar. I also found it strange that so many professors defended the GA policy but then talked up inclusivity in class. i didn’t see why I couldn’t just do the assistantship stuff, or teach, for free. The experience and the comraderie would have been a bigger help to me than the money.
I recently left my job at Duquesne University (working as an administrator) and one thing that always baffled me was that we had all these sociology, business, etc students and yet they were only expected to show up in class and party the rest of the time, they should have been leveraged to help run the campus. There could have even been a set up like Berea College (although, admittedly, that only works because their endowment is freaking gigantic).
I’ve also wondered about alternative forms of learning itself too. I’ve wondered about switching from reading individually, and lecturing communally to the opposite. Read the material together and then conduct meetings in private with the professor. More one on one time with the prof, ande it ensures that institutions like tenure don’t lead to laziness.
But what we’ve listed here is a critique of higher education, and theology as a discipline within higher education. I wonder if that’s what’s being gotten at here, or if there’s more.