Man Without Money

There was a presentation at the Missoula library last week by a man who uses no money. Our friends who attended said the crowd extended out the door of the large room and that the ensuing discussion was very interesting. The idea of living outside the economy has tremendous appeal to the progressive community here, fulfilling a desire for a spiritual harmony which the capitalist economy thwarts, allowing them to imagine a future other than the bleak scenario of headlines and activist speeches. Food security, energy self-sufficiency, "transition" to an existence of bicycles and farmers markets and co-ops, on a sunny spring morning this is a tonic against reality/realism. The Man With No Money apparently lives in a cave on public land, dumpster-dives freegan style and hitchikes his way to voluntary simplicity. But of course he is totally on his own, an ascetic in the style of monks and shamans, free in the most individualistic sense of the word. I am afraid this "alternative" is the symbolic replacement/transference for all who have abandoned the political goal of a society without money, he is the revolutionary Jesus each generation turns to in their hopelessness, (all the while knowing they can never BE like Him.) Last night I attended a meeting of young activists who want to end coal exports from Montana. They are appealing to the State Land Board to reverse a decision made two years ago.(which will never happen unless the price of coal makes export economically unfeasable) They hope to build a "critical mass" to apply pressure through direct action and I hope they know the necessary but impossible nature of this task. Interestingly, because they desire no discussion or input in terms of strategy ( they have made a plan), I don't know their understanding. Labor will be against them, the vast majority of the "citizenry" will be against them, Business will be against them. Only Truth(that poor red-headed stepchild) and a few voices in the wilderness will be on their side if the price of coal stays high enough. "And I remember what Marx said near the end of his life; 'I was listening to the cries of the past When I should have been listening to the cries of the future' But how could he have imagined 100 channels of 24 hour cable Or what kind of nightmare it might be When each day you watch rivers of bright merchandise run past you And you are floating on your pleasure boat upon this river Even while others are drowning underneath you And you see their faces twisting in the surface of the waters And yet it seems to be your own hand Which turns the volume higher?" from the poem America by Tony Hoagland