BOOK REVIEW - Disaster Capitalism: Making a Killing out of Catastrophe by Anthony Lowenstein

The US Presidential Election is in full swing. Over the next few months, Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton will go toe-to-toe in what is already a less than clean scrap. In amongst the media and social media hysteria (on both sides), one could be forgiven for missing an intriguing narrative espoused by alternative voices that opts, rather than criticizing one candidate over the other, to reject both the neoliberal status quo and reactionary neofascist agendas that are the product of unfettered predatory capitalism.

In Disaster Capitalism: Making a Killing out of Catastrophe, acclaimed Australian journalist Anthony Loewenstein turns his passion for justice to deliver a stunning critique of the thriving disaster capitalism industry, in its many forms; the profiteers of privatized detention, militarized security, the aid industry and multinational mining are relentlessly skewered with style and poise, and their predatory tactics exposed. According to his narrative, Hillary Clinton is exactly the kind of neoliberal hawk that enables neofascist demagogues like Trump to rise, and allows predatory 'businessmen' like Trump to prosper. Both Presidential candidates are indeed invested in disaster capitalism, but Loewenstein's tale is arguably one that focuses on the Hillary's of the world; the trusted and experienced hand; the status quo; the Establishment.

Disaster Capitalism is the story of Loewenstein's journey into the belly of this particular beast. The book gives us an up-close-and-personal look at how corporations like Serco, G4S, Halliburton and their ilk profit from organized misery, perpetual conflict and the impacts of disaster, and how national governments and international organizations like the IMF and the World Bank are willing collaborators. In Part I, he takes us to Afghanistan, Pakistan, Papua New Guinea and Greece, exposing the various exploitative strategies employed to enrich the local elite and foreign interests, and the devastating effects on the majority of people in each country. In Part II, we visit wealthy Western democracies (Australia, the United States and the United Kingdom) that punish the most vulnerable in their societies while dictating economic conditions to the world, imposing taxpayer funded cruelty for private profit at home and abroad.

This is an absolutely enthralling read; a must for the revolutionary; the dreamer; the activist; the teacher; the learner. Loewenstein has compiled a treasure-trove of evidence on his travels. His dismantling of the social and economic myths that enable predatory disaster capitalism is robust and compels us to action. He offers a "challenge to cherished beliefs concerning aid and development, war and democracy, and in particular the modern, borderless nature of capitalism." (p. 14) For this reader, 3 key themes emerge; a dialogue around crime and punishment; a critique of the idea of benevolent corporations; and the grim reality that this is all part of a plan, a rigged system that empowers and enables predator capitalists to flourish.

Crime and Punishment

As the prison-industrial complex has rapidly taken hold in Western societies, the public clearly favours an ideology of punishment over reform. In addition to highlighting issues around race and class, Loewenstein speaks to issues around the treatment of those in the care of the state, and how "lobbying, ideology and a punishment ethos have colluded to produce one of the most destructive experiments in recent times: mass incarceration."

Judicial processes in the UK, US and Australia target the marginalized for what amounts to, essentially, punishment for being unable to escape their systemic disadvantage. Loewenstein unpacks the ideology behind this phenomenon and asks whether the poor man, the petty criminal, the asylum seeker or the drug user really deserve the punishments that are prescribed and who indeed benefits? What of the bankers that caused a global financial collapse? The CEOs of corporations that destroy the only planet we have? The heads of state that lied in order to enable the invasion and destruction of Iraq, leading to the destabilisation of the region and a current displacement crisis of epic proportions? Should not our justice system be designed to protect society from such individuals and the devastating consequences of their actions?

Over the past 2 months, we have witnessed a brutal crackdown on drug sellers and users in the Philippines, since the rise to power of President Duerte. Summary executions on the streets have shocked the world, yet few official condemnations are forthcoming. While it is not difficult to imagine that many politicians and indeed members of the public might secretly support these abuses of power and share the President's disdain for Article 10 of the Declaration of Human Rights, as Loewenstein finds in Australia, America and the UK, there is an infinitely more 'subtle' way to enforce the harshest punishments: through private contractors.

The criminal justice system in Australia ensures sky-high rates of Aboriginal incarceration, and, as the recently revealed abuses of the NT government demonstrate, the hateful punishment of those discarded by society is absolutely state sanctioned. In America, the black population is also disproportionately incarcerated. Loewenstein explores the roots of a system that enables this in the US and the corporations that profit handsomely at the expense of taxpayers, destroying families and leaving little opportunity for rehabilitation and reintegration into society. "Private prison corporations saw a unique opportunity" (p. 196) in America, Loewenstein writes, to do everything possible to ensure that more and more people were incarcerated. The prison population is thirty times what it was in the 1990s. The absolutely failed 'War on Drugs' has wreaked havoc on society. For all the posturing about market efficiency, private prison corporations are a spectacular leech off the government purse, with a rigged legal system providing financial and political benefits right down the food chain. All of this is possible, he tells us, due to a lack of "serious questioning of the harsh, punitive ideology underpinning US 'justice'." (p. 207)

In Australia, the UK, the US and Greece, Loewenstein exposes the fact that asylum seekers and migrants are also punished, most often without breaking any law.  In Greece, he provides a rich cultural background of "not just economic harshness, but a culture that tolerated and celebrated exclusion." (p. 69) In the grips of imposed austerity measures, the social fabric began to unravel and "Popular frustration was taken out on the most marginalized group in society: refugees." (p. 72) The mandate for demonization of the vulnerable that was secured in Greece, as in Australia, was just one tactic used to ensure profit for human rights abuses across the countries that Loewenstein investigates.

Time and again, Loewenstein finds governments all too eager to enable those corporations in a position to cash in. He details how the EU has become central in "funding, encouraging and pressuring EU nations to isolate and imprison asylum seekers." He discusses the industries that have sprung up and thrived, often with the EU leading "the charge in working with corporations that have been very willing to develop and hone methods for repelling the desperate hordes." As 'Fortress Europe' closes her borders, deals like that done between the EU with Turkey are sealed without a second thought for the human cost. Corporations and corrupt governments profit; the vulnerable are turned away and suffer.

Benevolent Corporations

Loewenstein picks up where Naomi Klein left off in her 2007 bestseller Shock Doctrine. She pointed out that privatization of government has accelerated in the U.S., as private sector opportunities have been generated through the 'war on terror'. She argues that, "now wars and disasters are so fully privatized, that they are themselves the new market: there is no need to wait until after the war for the boom - the medium is the message." Loewenstein builds on this and adds that "it is hard to escape the conclusion that wars are often fought for the key reason of liberating new and willing markets - and with the war on terror likely to continue for decades, there will be no shortage of new business to secure." (p. 16)

We often encounter the myth of the benevolent corporation. As much as it might be comforting to believe that the private sector simply goes about its business in a free market generating jobs and growth, from cover to cover Disaster Capitalism lays bare the impacts of a global privatisation bonanza. For Loewenstein, the US has played a pivotal role. He says that a "central plank" of U.S. foreign policy is "the US model of reducing the role of government while increasing the influence of largely private power has never been so rapacious, though the problem is global." (p. 4)

Loewenstein is no admirer of market fundamentalism, saying that "wealth is concentrated in so few hands in today's world: there is little incentive to advocate for a more equitable planet. The market system guarantees unfairness and rewards greed." (p.2) He shows us examples of open rebellion against this system from communities in Greece, Haiti and PNG, countries exploited long and hard by the status quo. As we have become more enslaved to the neoliberal project, Loewenstein argues "that the corporation is now more powerful than the nation-state, and that it is often the former that dictates terms to the latter." (p.7)

In Bougainville, PNG, Loewenstein meets members of the resistance against resource exploitation, and explores the shady relationships between corporate and political interests. The memories of violence fuelled by greed and repression do not fade easily. The health of the community and the environment have also been terribly compromised. "Environmental vandalism should not be the price tag for 'progress'," he pleads.

In Afghanistan, we are introduced to Jack, the British MD of a private military company (PMC) who provides an inside look at a truly burgeoning industry. He is not shy to admit that his corporation "survives off chaos." (p. 20) Jack anticipates perpetual war and opportunity. "If we can make money, we'll go there," he tells Loewenstein. He sees his industry in a purely positive light, providing "jobs for the boys leaving the army who can continue their trade." In spite of the well documented abuses of PMCs in Afghanistan and Iraq, military objectives continue to be dressed in humanitarian robes, government intelligence gathering has been privatized and mercenaries are ensured "a quick buck" (p. 21). Indeed, Loewenstein finds that the PMC industry hopes that the conflict and the profit will never end. When it does, they will be "looking for the new war." (p. 61) 

How often are we outraged at government spending on weaponry and conflicts that we deem unnecessary, but hesitate to question the relationship between corporate interests and government policy and spending. Loewenstein reminds us that the war on terror represents one of the largest wealth transfers in history, with 4 trillion dollars to date being spent, with much of it going to ever-grateful Western contractors. The privatization of prisons and security apparatus is incredibly expensive, while all evidence shows that incarceration does not tackle societal problems that lead to crime, but rather reinforces them. 

The overwhelming message is that simply outsourcing your cruelty is a convenient way to avoid responsibility, transparency and accountability, while profiting corporations and manipulating the economy. Neoliberal governments would like us to accept the notion that corporations are ultimately benevolent entities that exist only to employ people, satisfy market demand and grow GDP. Loewenstein argues that "multinational corporations spent the twentieth century gradually reducing their obligations in the various jurisdictions in which they operated." (p. 243) What we have now is unregulated, unaccountable and secretive private sector entities. Meanwhile, governments with dirty work to outsource are not left disappointed.

Unfortunately, a willful ignorance of the sometimes devastating social impact of 'business' has allowed a mentality of self-righteousness to fester, completely detached from the suffering of people that stand in the way of profit, those targeted by governments for suppression and oppression, and the unfortunate citizens of countries outside of the US circle of trust, whose lives appear to hold so much less value than those of allies. Companies like DynCorp and Blackwater, despite having their abuses repeatedly exposed, thrive in this context.

A Rigged System

Loewenstein exposes, time and again, the fact that the global economy is dominated by anti-democratic and predatory forces that profit the wealthy and the ruthless. The revolving door between corporations, lobby groups and government is clear for all to see. This collusion between powerful actors fans the flames of crisis while selling market fundamentalism as the antidote and positioning 'benevolent' corporations to reap the benefits. In the U.S. the banks were bailed out while personal debt, and indeed poverty rates, soar. Loewenstein offers a stinging critique of a system rigged for the 1%, and the scandalous truth that in the US both major parties represent similar corporate interests while the media feigns ignorance. Indeed, liberal presidents have done little for the vulnerable other than make empty promises.

Meanwhile, in Haiti, Loewenstein describes an environment of "canny capitalists sifting through the ashes of a disaster, looking for business opportunities." (p. 109) His narrative of this historically vulnerable nation describes the strong 20th Century American support for successive brutal dictatorships, enriching U.S. interests and a local elite. We see this model replicated again and again in Disaster Capitalism, and indeed around the world as a key element of U.S. foreign policy. The example, in chapter 3, of the "devoutly anti-Communist" 'Baby Doc' Duvalier is particularly damning, who, "unlike the many African despots targeted by the Hague, remained a friend of the West and was therefore largely untouchable." (p. 110) When the neoliberal agenda was challenged in Haiti by Aristade, the U.S. and local elite conspired to overthrow the government to restore 'order'.

We are often presented with the assertion that the international community, led by U.S. humanitarianism, rescued Haiti after the 2010 earthquake. Loewenstein paints a very different picture, and claims that "when Haiti had received lashings of 'help' this generosity had done little but enrich foreign companies." (p. 115) The local reception to UN  intervention was largely hostile. In the context of historical US interventions in Haiti this comes as no surprise, and the sentiment is well founded. As revealed by Wikileaks, the US ambassador to Haiti asserted that the UN military-style solution was "an indispensable tool in realizing core [US government] policy interests in Haiti" (p. 115)

In a similar vein, most development aid to PNG from Australia since its independence either found its way into the pockets of either the wealthy PNG elite or Australian corporations. Far from its claimed humanitarian ideals, Loewenstein says that the main goal of the Australian government in PNG was simply, "to ensure that Australian corporations had a ready market in which to turn a profit." (p. 172) The denial of complicity with oppressors in the violent struggles of the 1980s and the patronizing attitudes displayed by Australian diplomats leaves a bitter taste.

Loewenstein reserves some of his harshest criticism for the mainstream media, and the "false construct of "balance" that permeates the corporate press, which merely pits one powerful interest group against another" and one that "views business and political leaders as far more important than the individuals and societies affected by them." (p. 10) As an independent journalists that opposes the state of his profession, he laments the fact that "90% of Americans rely on information from media outlets owned by only six multinationals, including News Corporation, Comcast and Viacom."

Conclusion

Disaster Capitalism pulls no punches in calling out both profiteers and enablers. Loewenstein exposes a shady cabal operating in plain sight; corporations that will not blink at the thought of misery, death and destruction as part of business as usual. Governments that outsource their most distasteful projects to companies that have neither conscience nor boundaries. A complete lack of transparency and accountability allows whatever abuses that are uncovered to yield few consequences for the perpetrators. 

The book is impossible to put down and rich with memorable lines. It will have the reader coming back to review the stories of friend and foe, of oppressed and oppressor. Loewenstein has skillfully articulated opposing positions, admitting his ideological bent where possible in the text and to those he meets in the field. It is sure to be a book both loved and hated, depending on the beliefs of the reader, for its honest storytelling. The accounts of his journalistic interactions give the book a very personal feel. 

Loewenstein shows us how accepting something terrible (e.g. abuse of asylum seekers, mass incarceration etc.) out of a fear of personal harm, insecurity or loss gives a perceived legitimacy to profiteers (perhaps the American elections will be a case in point of this mechanism, on both sides). He wrote the book to "shock, provoke and reveal." (p. 16) The question is; once we know all about the profiteers of calamity, will we just carry on or will we fight for justice? 

Refugees in Europe: a journey from Gevgelija (FYROM) to Budapest (Hungary)

In August, I spent two weeks in my hometown in Southern Italy. I also took a short trip with a friend of mine to Eastern Europe, along the way participating at the EUGEO 2015 Conference in Budapest (Hungary), where I organized a session and presented a paper. During my visit to this region of Europe, the refugee crisis was building. Things were becoming heated, not only in terms of (very) high temperatures, but particularly in terms of tension and debate within the European Union about how to manage what is rightly considered a humanitarian crisis.

Since we were travelling near to the Balkan area, which refugees traditionally use to try to reach their aspired destinations in Northern Europe countries, my friend and I decided to observe with our own eyes what was occurring. Of course, we did not do it for voyeurism purposes. We think that human beings have to recognize the often tragic and sobering power of History, which constantly happens around our everyday life and deserves direct observation when it is possible. We are also against the protectionist strategies of this European Union, setting itself up as an impregnable fortress. In the past 30 years we have been surrounded by news of tragedies constantly happening both along terrestrial borders and Mediterranean sea, as well as about the violence and ignominious treatments perpetrated on migrants both at borders and the detention camps in Libya and Europe. For these reasons, we decided to be an infinitesimal part of that History and to witness the biggest displacement of people to Europe since World War 2.

I am neither a photographer (actually, I just "do pictures"), nor a journalist or a political analyst. However, as an Italian and European citizen calling for a shift towards inclusive mobility rights and hoping that national and supranational borders finally collapse as spaces of militarization, surveillance and control perpetrating existing and new injustice and inequalities, I have attempted to narrate and to document in pictures what I have seen on those European borders. I have also spoken with some of the refugees, trying to be respectful to people that were there sleeping, washing clothes, or playing football, often in very precarious conditions (as in Budapest). I had several small chats with groups of guys or with families; some were tired or didn't want to be disturbed, however others asked us to take pictures and were happy to speak with me.

We arrived in the small town of Gevgelija (FYROM), located just 300 meters from the South-Eastern border FYROM-Greece. The situation was very difficult. The temperature so high that plastic shelters and gazebos under the sun were literally burning. A few volunteers were providing insufficient food and water. People were continuing to arrive from the border, passing through an unpaved way carrying limited bags and dusty clothes. Exhausted parents took children by the arm. On the border, a police cordon was struggling to prevent refugees from crossing the barbed wire which was used to delimit the border. Protests by the desperate crowds were mounting, pushing to enter FYROM territory. I saw also Macedonian police and frustrated people facing off.

The unpaved way from the FYROM-Greece border to the camp in the Gevgelija countryside. 

Refugees arriving from the border. 

Tensions between the Macedonian police and refugees.

After Gevgelija, we travelled (on our own) towards Belgrade, the capital of Serbia, located in the North of the country. We visited the central station in which refugees were recovered -also for days- after travelling on buses from Gevgelija, waiting for an opportunity to reach the Serbia-Hungary border. While the Gevgelija camp was located in the countryside, with just a few nearby houses and about three kilometres far from the small, rusty station of the town, the refugees' area in Belgrade was located at the side of the central station along the river Sava. It was a small, but very crowded green area, with travellers passing with their bags and suitcases throughout igloo tents, people sleeping on the floor, and children showering in fountains. There were also a lot of Serbians accessing the shops and bars outside the station. Therefore it was possible to see both people having a social drink alongside refugees literally assaulting volunteers bringing food packs, which were of course insufficient to cater for the needy. Being the main railway station of Belgrade, it was absolutely a mess. This de facto worsened the already difficult condition of refugees; there was a lot of traffic along the roads with high levels of pollution and noise at the crossing lights; cars were going into and out from the private parking close to the station. Some people were waiting for private buses operating along the route Belgrade-Kanjiža (the small town close to the border Serbia-Hungary). In order to pay for bus tickets, food and water, refugees went to change their currency to the Serbian dinar.

Drying clothes on a football net in the central station in Belgrade. 

Rubbish/Drying. 

Showering kids.

We knew refugees were also in Novi Sad, an important city between Belgrade and the border with Hungary, however we skipped it because we had to enter into Hungary that evening, and long queues for border checks were expected (in fact, we spent four hours for a passport and baggage check!). Before approaching the border, we visited the refugees' camp in the Serbian town of Kanjiža. The camp was located in a green area just outside the town and close to a railway track. The condition was relatively better than Gevgelija and Belgrade; the camp was monitored by the volunteers of a humanitarian association, and tents were provided for shelter as well as fountains and toilets. A Syrian family asked me to take a picture of their daughters, and this turned into an occasion for a short chat. They told me that they took one month to arrive there from Homs (Northern Syria). They wanted to reach Germany, where some relatives were waiting for them. They did not know what would happen when they tried to cross the Hungarian border, however that evening they were preparing to leave the camp, Inshallah.

The kids of the Syrian family I chatted with in Kanjiža. The youngest daughter was very reticent to pose. 

Washing clothes. 

The camp had humanitarian tents, which are more comfortable of igloo tents or the ground. 

After a few days, I took part in the EUGEO conference in Budapest, where refugees were gathered into the Kalati station waiting to take trains to Germany and Austria. The station was full of refugees in shameful conditions; however, the Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán decided to prevent them from boarding the trains. The reason for this halt was the application of the EU directives on migrations. According to the Dublin III Regulation by EU, every application for international protection lodged by refugees has to be examined in the country of entry. Although the halt by Orbán was formally lawful and "necessary", it only served to worsen the already unsustainable conditions of the refugees in the station. Just a small water pump and few smelling toilets were provided for hundreds of people, as well as minimal food and no safe areas for sleeping. Refugees (probably around 500 people, but is a very roughly estimation also due to that other people came in the following days) were waiting for days in front of the station sleeping on the ground. They protested and claimed their right to travel. I spoke with some very young Syrian and Iraqi guys. They wanted to go in Germany and angrily waved their train tickets under my nose. A part of the ignominious conditions of the refugees, I was also ashamed for the silence on this issue during the EUGEO 2015 Conference. The Kalati station was just at three kilometres from the conference venue, the Eötvös Loránd University, in Buda side of the Danube. Nevertheless, it seems to me there has been no mention or condemnation, in formal speeches or key note lectures, about what was happening there. Nothing changes with a formal condemnation, of course, however a scientific meeting of geographers and social scientists must be aware of what is happening in their proximity and highlight injustices, particularly when global challenges knock on your door.

Underground passage occupied by refugees in the Kalati station, Budapest. 

Trying to rest. 

A man protesting against the police cordoning the station entrance. 

These guys show me their tickets for Germany. They were in the station since five days, and no food was provided. 

Refugees in the Kalati station. 

I do not know what has happened to the people I met, if they have been able to reach their destination and if they will be able to build a new life far from their home countries. In previous posts on our blog, Jason posed very interesting questions about the challenges migration and displacement pose to the concept of "place" and to the Western development models which provide benefits for the few and sufferance, bombs, and destruction for the others. In the Middle East and around the world, wars or terrorism threaten communities and institutions; this can be considered a disaster. Wars' consequences exceed the capacity of the population to survive, to regain a job or a wage, or to sustain their livelihoods. Local communities cannot cope with the disruption and destruction using exclusively their own resources. As disaster scholars, we are called to investigate the relationships among migrations, society, and environment for understanding pre-existing and new vulnerabilities and risks, for both people continuing to live in those countries and refugees. In this way, several researches are exploring impacts of wars, as well as climate change and hazards on migration trends and displacement. Also narrating and witnessing refugees' stories and conditions respond to this academic -and ethical- need, giving voice to excluded and marginalized people.

All my pictures can be found at my Facebook page (contents are in Italian, apologize for this), as well as pictures by my friend (he is an amateur photographer) on his Flickr.