Reviews of New Books
By Joseph Sternberg, Susanna Dokupil, Naomi Riley
Go, Go, Globalization!
By Joseph Sternberg
Why Globalization Works
By Martin Wolf
Yale University Press, 398 pages, $30
A casual search for "globalization" on Amazon.com turns up more than 14,000 titles. Because the global economy has produced an oversupply of books about itself, anyone who wants to make a splash with an additional work has to be exceptionally insightful.
In his new book, Why Globalization Works, economist and Financial Times columnist Martin Wolf displays courage in tackling territory so often tread before. But when it comes to new insights, the reader has to hunt for them.
This is a "Globalization, go go go!" survey, a popular sub-genre in the field (with other favorite genres being the "Globalization, no no no!" book and a host of impenetrable technical tomes written by fusty academics for the benefit of other fusty academics).
Wolf's premise is simple: "The problem today is not that there is too much globalization, but that there is far too little." From there, he proceeds to tackle common criticisms of economic globalization, at times in mind-numbing detail.
And therein lies the problem. Much of the volume is a recitation of previous economic research that supports the premise that globalization leads to vastly improved quality of life for everyone everywhere. Wolf debunks the arguments that globalization increases inequality, that it destroys the environment, that it invariably leads to a regulatory "race to the bottom" between states competing for new foreign investment.
All of this is accurate and important, though it's already been said many times. Wolf's greatest virtue is his ability to transform somniferous academese into plain English, but he applies this gift unevenly. His discussion of the true lack of corporate power in a globalized economy sparkles with engaging prose.
But his dissection of monetary policy during the East Asian financial crisis of 1997 will be Greek to anyone lacking a course in intermediate macroeconomics.
Wolf is at his best when he writes about issues he has covered extensively in his Financial Times column, such as the collapse of Enron, and the role of the International Monetary Fund. He offers the intriguing argument that, far from being a symbol of unbridled corporate greed subverting civilization, Enron's story demonstrates that corporations are not all-powerful in the least. After all, this company went bust. Neither its fancy corporate offices nor its extensive political connections could keep it out of bankruptcy court. As a general rule, the dependence of corporations on markets prevents them from accumulating power over each other, or over states, which have more staying power.
Wolf's greatest moment is his almost-defense of the IMF. He makes the standard criticisms of the Fund for encouraging bad economic behavior because the culprits know that the Fund will be there to bail them out, and for its careless advocacy of willy-nilly capital-market liberalization. But he refrains from taking potshots at the IMF's often-derided slate of austerity measures that are imposed on debtor nations after they go on binges.
The medicine the Fund generally requires ailing countries to swallow to get their fiscal houses in order quickly is often foul-tasting and painful, Wolf allows, but it is necessary. Developing countries need to take drastic measures to reform themselves, he suggests; they can't get away with the kind of dawdling that Germany or France or the U.S. can.
And if the IMF's recommendations seem too one-size-fits-all, that is only because "a vast range of countries manage to fall into exactly the same predicament: They spend beyond their means and run out of credit."
This is an unfashionable observation. The book's greatest shortcoming is that there are not more novel conclusions along those lines. Wolf has personal experience in development economics, having worked for the World Bank in Kenya, Zambia, and India in the 1970s, during which the idea of prosperity-through-central-planning died and neoclassical market economics was reborn.
Yet he is curiously reluctant to offer any firsthand illustrations to animate his book. He employs his own experiences and background in just a few paragraphs scattered throughout the book, and to lend himself some credibility on the dust jacket.
As a result, Why Globalization Works is just a well-written survey.
Joseph Sternberg is managing editor of The Public Interest.
The Oprah President
By Susanna Dokupil
My Life
By Bill Clinton
Knopf, 1008 pages, $35
Bill Clinton's autobiography, heroically titled My Life, certainly embodies the old adage that history is written by the winners. Through this thick collection of war stories and rambling anecdotes, the ex-President attempts to tint his legacy for the ages.
Each vignette has a carefully crafted purpose, with most illustrating one of the following simple themes:
How I empathize with ____ (fill in the blank with a group of voters).
How good people sometimes make mistakes.
My successful program to save ____ (fill in the blank with the cause du jour).
Why Hillary is a smart, wonderful, capable leader.
My Life's most colorful and best-targeted stories depict Clinton's early childhood and schooling. Most candid, perhaps, are his descriptions of protecting his mother and younger brother from his abusive stepfather. Clinton ultimately concludes that his stepfather had good intentions and deserved forgiveness despite the physical and emotional harm he caused his family.
Clinton attempts to form a coherent story about how his boyhood shaped the person he became--from the way his grandmother's constant feeding led to a lifelong weight battle to how unresolved issues with his stepfather contributed to the Lewinsky affair.
These emotional anecdotes and the accompanying soul-searching won't be everyone's idea of a good use of paper, but at least he displays some human soul. As soon as Clinton starts to describe his campaigns for office, however, the quality of the writing decreases dramatically.
Clinton mentions early in the book thar he keeps a diary, and one imagines that much of My Life is derived from tedious daily notes taken over many years. Clinton shows no more restraint in storytelling than he has with cheeseburgers and cheesecake over the years. His surplus of details frequently obscures the point he wishes to highlight. But the readers ends up with nice long lists of the names of dinner guests and the locations of campaign rallies.
When William Jefferson Clinton discusses his Presidency, which consumes most of the book, the same rambling diary style continues--the saving grace being that he's discussing world leaders and events of national importance, rather than Arkansas lawyers and waitresses.
In his White House chronology, Clinton provides thorough descriptions, though his clear vested interests remove the book from consideration as a serious work of history. Clinton's talent for spin shines in his depiction of the Whitewater scandal. Throughout the book, Clinton emphasizes forgiveness and reconciliation with his political opponents. Old adverseries like Bob Dole get generally favorable treatment.
Clinton makes no effort, however, to present any positive qualities in Ken Starr (though Starr's friends say he has many). My Life renders Starr as an evil man who harasses Clinton's friends and asks them to lie.
Because Clinton has previously ingratiated himself with the reader as a reasonable person who doesn't hold grudges, his heavy hits on Starr will likely reinforce his version of history with his personal supporters.
Readers may well wonder, however, how evil Ken convinced so many people--right on up to Monica Lewinsky--to tell those mean lies about those fine Clintons.
Although the reader may tire of Clinton puffing up his own accomplishments or intuitions, one has to credit him for learning a valuable political lesson: Never fail to acknowledge the friends who helped you.
Most of all, Clinton credits his wife. From her prowess in law school to her achievements as First Lady, he lauds Hillary for her own successes and for her support of his career. He even touts her domestic skills, which include throwing birthday parties and lining Chelsea's drawers with contact paper at Stanford!
Clinton's autobiographical gloss reminds the reader of his demonstrated ability to dazzle personal audiences. But though the former President occasionally tells a good tale, it is hard not to doubt his veracity.
My Life may shore up Clinton's image with his supporters, but it's not likely to convert any detractors.
Susanna Dokupil, a regular TAE contributor, is an attorney and writer in Houston, Texas.
Religion '60s-Style
By Naomi Schaefer Riley
Knocking on Heaven's Door: American Religion in the Age of Counterculture
By Mark Oppenheimer
Yale University Press, 304 pages, $30
The 2001 novel Paradise Park chronicles the spiritual journey of Sharon Spiegelman, a Jewish hippy folk dancer who, after being deserted by a boyfriend in the early 1970s, tries out every religious sect she encounters. This was the heyday of the Hare Krishnas, the Scientologists, the Jesus freaks, and cults aplenty. And Sharon takes us on a veritable whirlwind tour of counterculture "spirituality," from meditating in a Buddhist monastery to farming marijuana on a commune.
That's a common view of post-'60s religion in America. But as Mark Oppenheimer points out in Knocking on Heaven's Door, the number of people who actually practiced these alternative religions was tiny. In a survey conducted in 1973 in California's Bay Area--a prime breeding ground for sects--61 percent of respondents said they knew nothing about Hare Krishna, 70 percent knew nothing about Zen Buddhism, and only 5 percent had tried transcendental meditation. Thus, Oppenheimer argues convincingly, accurate examinations of American religion in this era should be focused not on the fringe groups which captivated students, reporters, and novelists, but rather on the more traditional faiths that had broad following.
Traditional religions were changing in important ways during this time. The Unitarians decided to accept homosexual behavior among their members and leaders. The Southern Baptists briefly entertained pacifist voices in their ranks, ultimately rejecting the ideas of the counterculture. Oppenheimer chronicles the large and small revolutions of these types that swept five major religious denominations during the late '60s and early '70s.
Many of these narratives will be familiar to the general reader, but Knocking on Heaven's Door adds some fascinating details. In the chapter on the changes in the Catholic Church after Vatican II, for instance, Oppenheimer demonstrates how the church hierarchy actually facilitated the spread of the countercultural mass.
Parishes were originally organized by geography and sometimes by ethnicity and race, but in the '60s the church made another exception. In 1968, Oppenheimer notes, Catholics "who wanted an experimental mass with new music...got an extraterritorial parish, based not on race, not on native tongue, but on worship style." This policy allowed the church to satisfy its more liberal elements, but this institutional separation also helped push along the divisions present in Catholicism today.
The chapter on the Episcopal Church's decision to allow women priests is of particular interest to anyone who has followed the current debate in that denomination over homosexual priests. How did this initial revolution take place? First, there was the obvious influence of the women's movement. But run-of-the-mill feminists were not particularly interested in religion, and organizations like NOW came late to the battle.
Reformers often cite the civil rights movement. One Episcopal activist, Betty Bone Scheiss, illustrates how strained the appropriation of civil rights rhetoric in service of theological liberation could be: "I remember Mrs. Rosa Parks' answer about why she sat down that day on that bus: 'I don't know, just tired I guess.' Yes, tired.... Tired of being told that the omnipotent God can't call me to the priesthood."
The black power movement had a surprising amount of influence, Oppenheimer asserts, on the schisms within various religious groups. Jewish counter-culturalists who combined a free-form worship style with political activism started using the term "Uncle Jake" the way blacks use "Uncle Tom"--to describe "any older Jew busy serving the uptight, reactionary synagogues and philanthropies."
There was plenty of precedent, Oppenheimer writes, for the Jewish counterculture. Jews were historically city dwellers, associated with labor movements and radical thought, all of which made it more likely that they would "give a tolerant wink to their grandchildren's long hair or premarital cohabitation." But the '60s and '70s wrought havoc on mainstream Judaism. The Jewish population began dwindling as a result of intermarriage and other forms of assimilation. Reform Jews abandoned age-old rituals. The Orthodox community, in reaction to the countercultural liberalism, became more insular.
Unfortunately, Oppenheimer ignores most of the harmful side effects of the theological revolutions that broke out in the 1960s and '70s. While he has drawn useful attention to many critical transformations of American religion, he sweeps under the rug any consideration of their desirability, usefulness, or authenticity.
There are times when religious practices evolve naturally. There are other times when churches and temples and liturgies get hijacked. By finding or creating theological or cultural rationalizations for just about every change in American religion initiated during the '60s and '70s, Oppenheimer forecloses on a deeper look at why so many faiths took a sharp turn in this era, and whether that was a good thing.
Naomi Schaefer Riley is author of the forthcoming God on the Quad: How Religious Colleges and the Missionary Generation Are Changing America.
