It was one of the most formative moments of my life. I was sitting in a cold, drab oxford lecture room in my first year of university waiting for my prof, Marxist thinker Erik Swyngedouw. He finally burst into the room with a cup of coffee in his hand and asked in his distinctive Belgian accent, “Can you see this coffee?” The obvious answer was, “Yes, of course I can see the cup.” What, I wondered, was this guy getting at?
But it soon became clear that this wasn’t going to be my usual dazed and drowsy experience wallowing at the back of the lecture theatre. “You can see the coffee, but can you see the fields of Guatemala? Can you see the EU tariffs? Can you see the coffee workers’ pay slips?” I soon realized what he was getting at. The world as it is didn’t just happen. It is the way it is because of people, because of laws, because of attitudes.
Then Swyngedouw asked, “So, how many of you want to work in the Civil Service when you’re older” I thought for a second. The idea appealed, but my arms didn’t leave my side. It was strange: as if by some magnetic force I was being kept in the system, the one that – for now- ruled the room. No other arms were raised; the question seemed absurd. “So, how many of you want to go work in the City: invest, trade, move money and make money?” Arms shot up all around me. It all became painfully clear: Why, oh why, would anyone want to contribute to society when they could focus on making money?
I think Swyngedouw’s aim was to show us we don’t have to give in to the system, and the accumulation of money in our hands doesn’t automatically lead to happiness. He told us the ratio of raised arms would have been reversed in the 1970s, but people’s mindsets had changed. It seems that we’re all looking out for ourselves, convinced somehow that profits will bring economic benefit to us all. Mind you, I don’t see accumulating money in itself as an evil act. Work hard, make money, sure – but don’t make it your idol. Don’t screw everyone, don’t screw up the planet, don’t isolate yourself, don’t become an island. We’re in this life together.
Luke Sherlock
Oxford, UK