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Musings: What Money Can’t Buy: The Moral Limits of Markets by Michael J. Sandel

What Money Can’t Buy: The Moral Limits of Markets by Michael J. Sandel

Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2013 (reprint)

ISBN-13: 978-0374533656

Available: Hardcover, paperback, Kindle edition, Audible

 

I’m straying from horror fiction here, but What Money Can’t Buy goes into some really gruesome and horrifying topics, the kind that made my skin crawl, and certainly not what I expected in a book about market-based economics (I know, the topic of economics is already gruesome and horrifying to some people), and I really wanted to share my reaction with you. In the book, Michael Sandel poses a question to the reader that he never really answers: are there some things that should never be for sale? A lot of economists would answer “no”. Selling or trading out of self-interest, according to them, is the most efficient way for people who want things to get them. Seems logical, right? The devil is in the details.

Maybe you shrug your shoulders at the idea of lobbyists paying people to stand in line for them and hold places at Congressional hearings, preventing ordinary citizens from getting in (unethical and unfair, but not actually gruesome), but what about selling babies to the highest bidder? If it means people who can pay for it get what they want in the most efficient way possible, many economists would be okay with that, even if it seems creepy or unethical. Sandel presents two kinds of arguments that can be used to counter this. The first is fairness– it’s not fair for some people to be able to pay to have access to Congress at the expense of others– and the second is corruption– it degrades democracy to limit access to those who can pay. Even if, on an individual level, we are okay with this, is it moral and healthy for us as a society to sell access to Congress, or children to the highest bidder? (I am certain neither democracy nor children should be for sale, but you probably guessed that).

Here’s the part that I found viscerally gruesome and horrifying, though. Once everything is for sale, life and death become commodities, too. Did you know employers like Wal-Mart take out life insurance policies on their employees that have huge payouts to the company when the person dies? That person’s family may not collect anything, while the company gets hundreds of thousands of dollars. Apparently there are a lot of companies that do this. Has yours invested in a payout for them on your life? Because that’s creepy and seems really unfair, as well.   Did you know about viatical insurance? That’s where a terminally ill person with maybe a year left to live sells the value of their life insurance policy at a discount to an investor so they can pay for medical care. If the ill person dies, the investor collects the life insurance policy. If the person doesn’t die within a year, the investor loses the money. While most people don’t make this investment with the specific goal of profiting off death, the investor has to hope the ill person dies.  How awful is that? Hoping someone will die so you can cash in on it? When AIDS drugs to extend patients’ lifespan became available, some particularly unpleasant investors actually harassed the ill person– and it’s the investors who described the longer life spans as “horror stories”.  A state legislator actually voted against programs to help AIDS victims and then invested in viatical insurance for AIDS patients. That is not human nature at its best.

I should not be surprised at the existence of death pools–  a game where players make bets on what celebrities will die in a particular year. 2016 must have been a bonanza for them. There’s not actually a huge amount of money in play– it’s just really, really morbid. It’s even been the topic of a movie, with celebrities getting mysteriously knocked off. If there isn’t a horror novel out there that has used this yet, it’s just waiting to happen.

For me, THE most disturbing thing, though, was discovering that there was a proposed market in terrorism futures, suggested by our own Department of Defense on the theory that if the traders were backing their trades with their own money, they would use the abilities and research skills they used to trade futures in other markets to successfully predict assassinations and terrorist attacks. Congress, thankfully, shot this idea down. But this is the question Sandel poses us: does the end justify the means? If terminally ill patients can get the treatment they need, does it matter that an investor profits off their eventual death? If we can predict and prevent a terrorist attack, does it matter that it leaves a dark mark on the investors’ morals? Economists would say the moral issues are irrelevant, but are they really if they corrupt us? It’s not something that ends up affecting just one indivdual, but the way we all experience the meaning of life and death. I am really distressed at the idea of life and death being treated as commodities, although it probably happens in smaller ways every day.

Sandel covers other issues as well. Also included in the chapter on markets in death, he described bundled life insurance policies sold to banks being packaged into tradable securities that would generate income as the holders of the policies died, and could be sold to pension funds– pretty grim stuff. Other areas he mentions include paying to jump the line in a number of contexts, from Congressional hearings and national parks campsites to airports and amusement parks; providing incentives in areas as varied as paying kids for grades, carbon offsets, and selling the right to immigrate; naming rights and commercialization in contexts including nature trails, sports stadiums, jails, and schools; and the way markets can degrade or demean human relationships, volunteerism, and civic pride. My sense is that Sandel is counting on us to recognize that, while the efficiency of markets is beneficial in some contexts, the “better angels of our nature” cannot be bought. Yet. If we don’t examine the way commericalization and trade are affecting our society, though, those markets in life and death, and in so much else, will become more and more troubling, and we will see a great deal more of unfairness and corruption infecting our world. This is excellent, if disturbing, food for thought, as we navigate through today’s political, financial, and civic structures and issues.


Book Review: Grave Predictions: Tales of Mankind’s Post-Apocalyptic, Dystopian, and Disastrous Destiny edited by Drew Ford

Grave Predictions: Tales of Man’s Post-Apocalyptic, Dystopian, and Disastrous Destiny edited by Drew Ford

Dover Publications, 2016

ISBN: 9780486802312

Available: paperback

 

In Grave Predictions, Drew Ford has selected some of the best representations of post-apocalyptic and dystopian short fiction available: stories both beautiful and terrifying. These include tales from some of the most outstanding authors of the genre, such as Stephen King, Ray Bradbury, Arthur C. Clarke, Philip K. Dick, and Ursula K. Le Guin.  Each story is far ahead of its time, with its own distinct presentation of the future, and evokes a range of emotions from the reader. It’s amazing how science fiction writers have more of a pulse on the future than most people care to recognize.

Eugene Mouton’s “The End of the World,” first published in 1872, presents a tragic story about global warming before it even had a name, and culminates in the proclamation that “THE EARTH IS DEAD.” In W. E. B. Du Bois’ “The Comet” (1920), Jim Davis, an African-American man, is sent down to the vaults on a task by the bank president, only to emerge to cold, dead world. It’s reminiscent of the Twilight Zone’s “Time Enough at Last” in that respect. As he makes his way down the city streets he finds Julia, a wealthy white woman, who is seemingly the other survivor. The theme of racial tensions and the breaking down and reconstruction of barriers is central to this story. Bradbury’s “The Pedestrian” (1951) focuses on a writer who walks aimlessly through the city at night when he is stopped by robotic police for aberrant behavior. No one walks around the streets anymore when they have the warm glow of their televisions screens, after all. “Upon the Dull Earth” (1954), by Philip K. Dick is the tragic story of Silvia, Rick, and the fate of the world. Silvia summons angels, believing they are her ancestors who will someday usher her home. She intends to use lamb’s blood, but when she accidentally draws her own blood, they appear to take her home. Rick cannot accept her death, and tries to bring her back, even though it may mean the destruction of his world. In Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.’s “2 B R 0 2 B” (1962), the United States population has been  limited to forty million people: someone must die in order for someone else to be born. Edward Wehling, Jr.’s wife is about to have triplets, but there is only one volunteer for euthanasia. Desperate, he finds a last minute solution to ensure his children will live. There is a witness to Edward’s predicament, who makes a fateful decision as well.

Other titles in this anthology include Arthur C. Clarke’s “No Morning After” (1954); Harlan Ellison’s “I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream” (1967); Urusla K. Le Guin’s “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas” (1973); Brian M. Stableford’s “The Engineer and the Executioner” (1976); Stephen King’s “The End of the Whole Mess” (1986); Joe R. Lansdale’s “Tight Little Stitches in a Dead Man’s Back” (1992); Greg Bear’s “Judgment Engine”; Mark Samuels’ “The Black Mould” (2011); Ramsey Campbell’s “The Pretence” (2013); and Carmen Maria Machado’s “Inventory” (2013). Highly recommended.

Contains: racial epithets, abuse, body horror, disturbing imagery

Reviewed by Lizzy Walker

 

 

Book Review: The Black Pearl by Scott O’Dell

The Black Pearl by Scott O’Dell

HMH Editions for Young Readers, 2010 (reprint)

ISBN-13: 978-0547334004

Available: Paperback, Audible, Kindle edition

 

Scott O’Dell is best known as a writer of historical fiction for children, particularly for novels set  in California or Mexico. He is most well-known for his middle-grade survival story and Newbery Award-winning novel Island of the Blue Dolphins, as well as three Newbery Honor books: The King’s Fifth, Sing Down the Moon, and The Black Pearl. In addition to winning several additional awards, he also established one: The Scott O’Dell Award for Historical Fiction, which is awarded yearly to an American writer of an outstanding work of historical fiction for children. The Black Pearl, first published in 1967, is indeed a work of historical fiction– but it’s also a pretty terrifying book, with much of it devoted to a legendary sea monster, the Manta Diablo.

Sixteen year old Ramon Sandoval’s father is a pearl merchant, and has just made him a partner in the business. Ramon is eager to learn to dive for pearls, but his father has reservations. His father and the other pearl divers are large, muscled men, while Ramon is still not entirely grown. When Ramon finally convinces his father to take him on an expedition, he meets the Sevillano, a talented diver with a storehouse of outrageous stories about frightening monsters and giant pearls.

During his father’s next absence, Ramon, determined to prove himself, pays an Indian who has come to sell a pearl to teach him how to dive. He hopes to find the great pearl of the Sevillano’s stories: the Pearl of Heaven. The Indian warns Ramon of the Manta Diablo, a vengeful giant black manta ray who guards the pearls in his cave under the lagoon where the Indian dives. Despite the warning, Ramon dives into the cave, pries out a gigantic oyster, and finds an enormous black pearl.  When the Manta Diablo discovers the cave is in disarray,  it’s a race to escape home with the pearl before he is caught.  Once revealed, the pearl garners a great deal of unwanted attention from the town, but despite its size and beauty, he and his father are unable to sell it. Ramon comes to believe the pearl is cursed and that he must return it to the monster, but the Sevillano has other ideas, and they embark on a dangerous voyage by water, chased by the Manta Diablo.

The story is framed by the introduction of the Manta Diablo, a local legend used by mothers to scare their children into behaving. Ramon, while not a believer, loves this story. The Sevillano, who has been out in the ocean, makes this a more believable story, and the Indian’s dread reinforces it. None of this is enough to convince the skeptical Ramon, who is determined to find the legendary Pearl of Heaven– when it comes to legends, apparently greed and ambition outweigh fear. As the novel progresses, the Indian’s dread is infectious, and Ramon actually begins to believe that there might really be some truth to the legend. The manta’s chase and the battle with the manta up the tension, although it’s certainly possible that Ramon is more terrified of the Sevillano than he is of the manta.

While the writing is somewhat stilted and dated, and the book starts with somewhat of a slow pace, once the pearl divers enter the scene the story becomes engaging, not just because Ramon is engaged in the experience, but because it is fascinating, and something most people know little about. As the book progresses, it’s interesting to see how his relationship with both his father and the Sevillano develop. Ramon’s experiences as he learns to dive in the lagoon are immersive; O’Dell’s descriptions are gorgeously written. Ramon’s interactions with the Indian at that time start to ratchet up the suspense, especially once Ramon enters the cave of the Manta Diablo. The legendary manta of terror and its appearances in the novel, be they through story or through Ramon’s perceptions of his experience, snagged this reader from the first page, and O’Dell’s suggestion that something can be both beautiful and evil is food for thought.  Recommended for grades 4 and up.

Reader’s advisory note: Older children and teens who like this book might like The Pearl by John Steinbeck or The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway.

Content note: The representation of the Indians in the book as especially superstitious and violent is a talking point you might want to cover with your child, as well as the religious motivations behind some of the actions (not being Catholic, certain children thought the Madonna referred to in the story was the American pop singer, which caused some confusion).