Talk delivered by Amanda Armstrong at the 2015 MLA Subconference. Vancouver, B.C./Coast Salish Territory. 1/9/15.
The germ for this presentation emerged as I was
reading Ruth Wilson Gilmore’s Golden
Gulag. Her second chapter argues that the prison construction boom in 1980s
California was a response, on the part of those managing capital and governing
the state, to four surpluses, including of capital, labor, land, and state
capacity. With respect to capital surpluses, Gilmore shows how investment
bankers, in search of profitable sites of investment, developed new financial
mechanisms in the early eighties that enabled debt-financed prison construction
to go forward without voter approval. These new financial mechanisms, called
lease revenue bonds, had recently been put to use as well for the funding of
construction projects at California colleges and universities.
In what follows, I want to talk a bit about
these convergent shifts in prison and university financing, which Gilmore reads
as ruling class responses to the protracted economic crisis of the seventies.
While formally similar in certain respects, these parallel shifts also indicate
a tilting of the state toward policing and incarceration and away from direct support
for education and other socially reproductive state functions. I’m interested in
the aftereffects of these shifts, and particularly in what has changed over the
last five years, following the crisis of 2008 and recent waves of struggle.
With respect to the universities, Gilmore
describes how, in 1981 and ‘82, Frederic Prager, a well-connected underwriter
in California, “worked with the Association of Independent California Colleges
and Universities to issue an innovative revenue bond whose proceeds [constituted]
a forward-funded market for student loans” (98). Soon afterwards, the loan
arrangement was extended to public universities as well. The terms of this
particular revenue bond illustrate some of the emergent parameters of
university financing in the early eighties.
At this moment, newly available student aid and
loan money – funded and backed by state agencies – provided an incentive for
universities to gradually increase tuition, and thus enabled them to secure the
unencumbered revenue necessary to undertake debt-financed construction projects
– projects that university managers justified on the grounds that new
construction would help them compete for students. Prager and his associates at
KPMG helped rationalize these new financial dynamics, publishing manuals of
“best practices” for university managers. Their 1982 “Ratio Analysis in Higher
Education” presented its readers with financial “ratios” that could be used to
determine the proper balance of university revenues, operating costs,
investments, and bond debts. Unsurprisingly, these apparently neutral ratios
pushed university managers to funnel more capital into financial markets and to
take on higher levels of construction debt.
Similarly, Prager and his associates’ work
developing new prison financing mechanisms enabled the California Department of
Corrections to acquire over 2.5 billion dollars in state-backed lease revenue
bonds over the 1980s, supplementing 2.5 billion in general obligation bonds,
which the Department of Corrections used to expand prison capacity by
approximately four hundred percent (101). This prison expansion was accompanied
by the rewriting of criminal law and by the emergence of new forms of urban
policing, surveillance, and spatial enclosure, outlined by Mike Davis in City of Quartz.
The assertiveness with which financial advisory
firms in the 1980s worked to turn the prison and higher education industries
into new sites of real estate investment and capital accumulation is especially
striking when considered in relation to KPMG’s most recent, and much more
reticent, 2010 edition of “Strategic Financial Analysis for Higher Education,”
the successor to their “Ratio Analysis in Higher Education.” In this most
recent edition, Prager and his associates implicitly acknowledge that their
earlier ratios had not been conservative enough to protect against financial
meltdowns, and even that university managers probably shouldn’t have been
relying on abstract ratios in making investment decisions in the first place. “Financial
analysis is not a static exercise,” they write; “'Acceptable metrics' in one
environment may not be desirable in another.” In their
contextualist 2010 edition, the only advice the KPMG authors
confidently assert is that central administrators must systematically
incorporate a “risk management” framework into all dimensions of university
governance, lest they be caught off guard again by financial or other shocks.
The University of California certainly has
followed this prescription. The university’s Office of the President recently
established an “Office of Risk Services,” and has begun convening regular “Risk
Summits” and meetings of the “Risk Management Leadership Council.” This turn
toward risk management can be read as marking the incorporation of security and
surveillance techniques into the heart of public university management,
including the management of university finances.
The variant of “risk management,” that has
recently been taken up by University of California administrators is a
composite thing, drawn together from disparate sources and remolded to fit
local conditions. In part, risk management follows from the codification of
internal accounting techniques that were developed in the aftermath of the
Watergate scandal, but only formally required of public companies following the
2002 ENRON scandal. As KPMG and other boosters insist though, risk management
is not simply a matter of insurance or internal compliance mechanisms. It also
entails new, more ambitious, modes of governance and control, first developed for
the logistics and security industries. The logistics industry, contending since
the 70s with elongated supply chains and just-in-time production, developed
tracking and distribution practices to limit both the frequency and disruptive effects
of delays across supply chains. As Deborah Cowen has shown, these new practices
drew the logistics industry closer to security and military agencies. The
notion of “supply chain security” indicates how logistics has come to rest upon
a strategic relation to space; nodes and spans in supply chains, including
ports, highway networks, ocean passages, and rail yards must be surveilled and enclosed
by force in order to ensure the smooth flow of commodities. Thus, under the
banner of supply chain security, the urban policing, surveillance, military, and
logistics industries have become increasingly enmeshed since 2001.
Documents designed to introduce interested UC administrators
to “Enterprise Risk Management” contain illustrations and categories drawn
directly from the logistics industry, including just-in-time production and supply
chain analysis. But these
and other categories of risk management require a certain amount of translation
to fit within university contexts.
For the remainder of my talk, I want to discuss
a few recent events that illustrate the contested local manifestations of risk
management practices at UC Berkeley.
First, concerning new construction. As a result
of anti-tuition and occupy mobilizations in 2011 and ’12, the University of
California adopted a multi-year tuition freeze in the summer of 2012. At this
same moment, a spokesperson for UC Berkeley’s office of Capital Projects
announced that future dorm construction would be outsourced to private
developers in the form of ground lease agreements. Since then, other
development projects are being privatized through similar agreements, both at
Berkeley and on other California campuses. Not coincidentally, a 2012 Bain
report on “The Sustainable University” encourages university managers to use ground
lease agreements to reduce debt leverage and to avoid risk exposure attendant
upon new development.
This turn toward privatized construction –
aligned with the project of risk management – has contributed to an intensified
securitization of university space. Partially or fully privatized new
buildings, such as the Li Ka Shing Center for Biomedical and Health Sciences,
the Blum Center for Developing Economies, and the Energy Biosciences Institute,
are each at least partially closed to the general public and require key card
or other forms of securitized access. In February 2013, organizers with the
Student of Color Solidarity Coalition took over the Blum Center to protest the
appointment of Janet Napolitano as UC President -- a particularly glaring
illustration of the university’s securitizing turn. The occupation of the Blum
Center challenged as well the shift toward spatial enclosure at UC Berkeley and
its racially exclusionary effects.
The enclosure of campus space also appears in university
administrator and police anxieties toward the presence of “non-affiliates” on
campus. As Brian Whitener and Dan Nemser note, UC risk management templates
identify the presence of non-affiliates (i.e., people perceived as having no
direct tie to the university) as a factor that increases the risk profile of a
given event. The non-affiliate is a racialized figure, which was made glaringly
evident when UC Davis administrators, in justifying police violence against
Occupy Davis protesters, attempted to associate the threat of sexual violence
at occupy encampments with the presence of Oakland-based demonstrators on
campus. The everyday campus police harassment of black students and workers on and
near campus is linked to this anxiety over the presence of non-affiliates, and manifests
a broader anti-black exclusionary logic, which can be traced back as well through
recent privatizing reforms, the passage of Proposition 209 in 1996, and the
anti-affirmative action politics of the 1980s.
Following acts of police violence against Occupy
Davis, Berkeley, and Riverside protesters in 2011, then-President Yudof
commissioned an internal review of campus police practices. Recommendations that
emerged from this review align with the principles of risk management. Police
responses to protests are to be managed by administration-led crisis response
teams, and police are responsible for recording all demonstrations.
Before concluding, I want to turn briefly to
recent actions in Berkeley and Oakland against anti-black police violence,
considering them in relation to the rise of risk management and the intensification
of securitization at and beyond the university. In the midst of larger uprisings
in the bay area and nationally following the non-indictments of Darren Wilson
and Daniel Pantaleo, UC students were particularly galvanized when Berkeley
police decided to use tear gas and batons to drive hundreds of students and
other local residents ten blocks south of campus. Presumably, the police
decided to force students away from campus because the demonstration’s original
proximity to dorms and a commercial district meant that police could not secure
the area and that the risk of costly property destruction was relatively high.
While many students likened this act of police
violence to the violence inflicted on students by police in 2011, the
demonstrations that emerged in response were quite different. In 2011, students
responded by holding strikes on campus, while this past December, students and other
local residents gathered each night on the edge of campus, and marched along
different routes through Berkeley and Oakland, stopping at police stations,
shutting down highways and train lines, and destroying windows of banks, police
cars, and chain stores. More recently, Black Student Union members have marched
through commercial districts of Berkeley, interrupting restaurant and
commercial businesses by reading the names of black people killed by police or
vigilante violence.
In traveling through Berkeley
and Oakland, student protesters have refused to remain enclosed within the
bounds of campus, or even in some cases to take political action as students. In doing so, they have worked to de-activate the student /
non-affiliate binary. They have also acted in a way that implicitly recognizes
the increasing imbrication of university policing, urban policing, and supply
chain security, as well as the similarly anti-black nature of these varied
forms of policing.
In my introduction I referred to the “tilting”
of the state toward incarceration and away from education, beginning in the
eighties. As we’ve seen, this tilting is not simply a matter of a tipping of
the scales of state funding toward the CDC and away from the UC. It also refers
to a tilting forward – a shift toward a more martial posture – that has
affected all state institutions, including the universities. Those assuming
this posture don’t incline toward negotiation. It is this aggressive posture
that we confront when we fight fee hikes; reclaim campus spaces; strike for better
working conditions; or march to local nodes of global supply chains – ports, rail
yards, commercial centers, and freeways – to challenge racist state violence.
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