The Activist

This summer I have had the “opportunity” to bartend at a small, corner bar in a rural, Ohio town.  It’s a nice little place – the kind of place where a reference to “regulars” and “patrons” can be assumed as synonymous.  It’s dark and usually quite, decorated with mask-donning mannequin heads, a cash register from the 50s, old beer signs/bottles, and a jukebox that still plays regular ‘ol CDs.  A sign hangs above the bar with the words “NO SMOKING” scrawled across it and surrounded by hand-drawn swastikas (indicating that, regardless of the law, smoking is allowed).  The people are friendly, the beer is cheap, and the atmosphere is hard to find elsewhere.  In short, it’s a place where working-class locals can retreat after a day’s work, or where those scraping by on government disability or other social security programs can still afford a drink with friends.

As a bartender, it is my responsibility to serve drinks and make conversation.  Oftentimes, as the alcohol begins to run through a customer’s blood-stream and their mind begins to wander, political discussions become inevitable.  On far too many occasions I have listened to old men and women lament about the days of old, when work was all over our burnt-out, little town.  Reagan is usually the culprit of the perceived economic decline.  This is fairly easy to understand, considering that the “temp agency” boom and the most prolific and damaging union busts occurred during his tenure as President.  Most of my patrons work through “temp agencies,” with little to no economic security.  Many of them consider themselves lucky if called into work more than three days a week.  Most have no retirement plan, no health insurance, and no savings.  They usually speak of such economic woes to me in short, careful sentences – angry, but at the same time almost hopeless.  There is an unusual sentiment of desperation which typically springs from these discussions in which there can be found little solace short of drunkenness.

Every day I come across the same desperate people, one job-loss or health problem or missed loan payment away from poverty.  Some of them have children to care for, some of them don’t.  But they have all agree on one thing – the American dream has failed them and the two-party system (if you want to call it that) in power can do little to help.  They see the government as an institution which has become morally bankrupt while lining the golden pockets of their respective political representatives.  They realize that the working-class, the poor, and the disenfranchised have no real voice.  Rather, they see politicians rise above such class conditions on hopes and promises only to be defeated or sell-out to rich donors (donors who, of course, they are forever in debt to for their success).  As politics and capital collide, it is the promise of change that becomes the invisible victim – the only real victim of any such collision.

And so they have turned their backs on politics, resolved to survive but pining for the good ‘ol days when there was work, when they had a voice, when they weren’t alienated from economic security.  I imagine such conversations take place all across the county, especially in the blue-collar wasteland of the post-industrial Midwest.  Until we, as progressive socialists, recognize such despair and the disappointment with the two-party, “winner takes all”, capitalist way this country does politics, there can be no real solution for these down-trodden workers on whom the majority of Americans rely on for labor.  Nor can there be a solution for our country. 

I’d encourage anyone with similar experiences or ideas on how to utilize such experiences for the benefit of our cause to respond.

Matt Mingus is a graduate student in European History at the University of Florida.  He is a YDS Member and currently resides in Ohio.