The 99%

He stood at the glass tower’s window looking down. A smattering of different colors on the normally pastoral green dominated the small circular park across the street. The park occupied the space between his glass tower and a bronze tinted glass wedge across the way. The park was framed by the square, blocky concrete government-center and another road that ran along the side of his elegant sky scraper. It was eight o’clock in the morning and he and most of his fellow coworkers had already been at work for over an hour. The patchwork of colored squares, rectangles and disheveled masses were the Occupy Minneapolis protesters. They were still sleeping.

“Look at those stupid dirty hippies.”

He turned quickly towards the source, seeing the warm smile of his similarly dressed colleague. He must have been lost in his thoughts. The brown haired man was built like a refrigerator wearing brown cowboy boots. Khakis and a carefully pressed dress shirt sat atop the boots. 

 “I can’t believe it but they’ve been there all weekend. Heh…Stupid Hippies” he said with his usual jovial smile.

“Really?” Steve said with feigned surprise.

The previous day he had seen protesters outside the Federal Reserve building in Houston, the city where the two of them were from. His natural curiosity and desire to be involved in a very much needed people’s movement had caused him to drive by. One look at the crowd had confirmed his suspicions. The movement was not going to be a revolution or revolt. Rather just a group vent of frustration.

“Let’s go down at lunch and talk to the dirty hippies” His coworker said as he stood next to him looking down.

“Definitely” Steve replied. 

He didn’t need any prompting to do so. He had wanted to talk to the protesters since he had heard of the movement. It was easy to make fun of these people, especially when you were young and “successful” like Steve and his co-worker. Despite the verbal derision that his coworker heaped upon the protesters Steve knew, deep in his heart, that they were for the most part right. That‘s what troubled him the most.

“I’ll come back and grab you at lunch. I’m sure Fred will come with as well” Steve said and turned away from the window overlooking the green and heading back into the depths of the office. He slowly walked to the office he shared with his co-worker Kado. The way back was lined with offices on his right and cubicles on his left. The faint hum of fluorescent lights was punctuated by the steady clicking of computers keyboards. These only interrupted by the occasional hushed tone. The blue monotone carpet under his feet contrasted with the paleness of the walls and cubicles. If one had not known his way around this office it would seem a corporate maze. A place where a man could lose his way and never get out.

Steve reached his office and saw his office mate Kado hard at work. He was a tiny little man who did not quite understand the American way yet. He was first generation.. He still believed that hard work alone would propel you to the top. He did not realize that equal parts ability and luck needed to accompany that in this world. He did not have a history, like Steve’s family's, to compare to the American dream. 

Steve walked over to the window and looked down at the government plaza on the opposite side of the government building from the park. It was usually a peaceful scene, with the stone plaza surrounding the beautiful crescent fountain that dominated the area reflecting light back up to the heavens. The plaza was lined on one side by the light rail that ran in front of the old stone police building with its green stained copper roof and elegant clock tower that thrust into the sky. A parking garage was opposite of the building that Steve stood in. Beyond the garage the Mississippi was hidden down among the building and streets. Steve could see the Gold Medal Flour sign and the Pillsbury Plant in the distance. A picturesque scene of trees, church spires, and houses spread out beyond the city like scenery on a child’s railroad set.

But the scene below Steve had changed from its usual tranquil and beautiful setting. The crescent fountain had been drained as a precaution to keep the “dirty hippies” from bathing in it. Piles of bags, sleeping materials and personal belongings dotted the stone plaza. A handful of protesters had made it over from their sleeping quarters on the green to the plaza. A few tables were set up and tiny figures held court at them. From his height it was hard to make out exactly what they were doing. Steve shook his head at the sight below him, turned, walked to his seat, and began working.

Lunch came quickly as will happen when you have too much work to do and not enough time. Steve saved his work, said goodbye to Kado, and walked back through the office and collected his two friends. They exited the offices and took the elevator down to the lobby of the glass tower. The plaza was only a minute walk from their building. They crossed the street and walked towards the government center. The chilly air swirled around them. Their button down shirts and pressed slacks doing very little to protect their bodies from the wind. It was a stark contrast to the controlled climate of their office. The temperature was vastly different than the current temperature in Houston and predictive of the freezing temperatures that would soon sweep over the landscape from the north.

The three walked into the plaza. Nearly every vertical suitable surface was posted with a sign. There appeared to be no clear coherent message but all the signs generally had the same idea in mind. To Steve the messages on the signs were like a shot gun blast, spread out, but moving together. As they moved deeper into the plaza Steve got a clearer view of those involved in the protest. They were, for the most part, actually “dirty hippies”. Unkempt individuals with scruffy beards, tangled hair, and clothes as unorganized as their protest seemed to be. A few individuals among the crowd appeared slightly more put together. These were the exception and not the rule.

Steve had come down to the plaza with an idea of what would happen. In his mind, when he came down from his glass tower and walked among the protesters, an individual would challenge his blatantly corporate appearance and demand that he justify his self-imposed servitude to the corporate overlords. Steve would defend himself and a lively debate would ensue that eventually won Steve over to action. Instead no one greeted him, no one challenged him, and no one asked him to join the movement. Steve found himself slightly disappointed and slightly miffed.

The three co-workers walked among the protesters silently observing them. They circled the plaza and all Steve could hear were generally educated but misguided individuals speaking to hear themselves speak. For so long no one had listened to them they were finally finding solace in the fact that they would listen to each other. The most common message Steve heard was “Down with Wall St.” It appeared that very few of the protesters understood the role Wall St. played in our world or even knew how to properly articulate the grievances with any semblance of ration and intelligent thought. Steve hoped this was limited to the Minnesota protest and not indicative of the movement as a whole.

There was no mention of the Frank-Dodd act or of the Volcker rule. No mention of derivatives or the Bucket Shop Laws. No mention of expanded capital requirements for banks or increased oversight of non-bank financial institutions. It became clear to Steve that this was nothing more than a prolonged adolescent rage. They would take the time to protest but they wouldn’t take the time to educate themselves on what they should be protesting against. The protesters as a whole reminded him of the kids in his high school history classes who would rant and rave against the system, America, and our way of life without really understanding any of it yet enjoying all the benefits of it.

They circled the plaza again, Steve’s two friends casually smoking cigarettes. Steve wasn’t. He had given that habit up awhile ago. He wanted to live a healthy and long life. The exhaled smoke rose up from their lungs to the heavens, like grey ghosts, before being dissipated by the freezing blasts of wind that tore around them. Steve studied the burning ember tips of the cigarettes with silent contemplation. It seemed to him that the fire in their cigarettes was a lot like the occupy protests. Each similar and relatively independent though the same thing. The fire that fueled the movement may be identical to the fire that fueled greater and significant revolutions. The flame that touched off the cigarette in another world could have been the flame that set the world on fire. This protest's fire, like the ones in the cigarettes, was a tamed and controlled version. The protests were too small and spread out to last long individually. But, had you gathered them together at once, it could have been a magnificently large blaze.

The power behind one lit fire, one rage, cannot be discounted. For the errantly discarded butt, thrown away and forgotten, can ignite a holocaust that will wipe the earth clear. Once the fire is started it only needs a more prosperous medium to gain hold. Once it starts you can never really guess what the outcome will be. That is where the individuals, who this ramshackle crowd were protesting, made their mistake. In their greed and smug arrogance they allowed the fire to be started. Pride cometh before the fall.

The friends' casual stroll through the plaza ended at a pile of protest signs lying on the ground like fallen warriors. It was as if Steve could view a snap-shot of each individual’s main grievance in this postcard graveyard. The one issue an individual chose to champion above all else. The most prevalent issue by far was corporate greed- the endless pursuit of profits at the expense of people, our nation, and our beautiful planet. This was an issue that Steve could agree with wholeheartedly.

Greed is unlimited whereas our resources are limited. Like a bottomless pit the endless greed of individuals threatened to swallow up and destroy not only our great nation but also our race. There is no end to greed. Only vigilance and knowledge can prevent us from falling into the dark embracing depths of its destruction.

The next most frequent sign type he saw spoke out against the role of corporations in today’s politics. Once again he had to agree with the protesters. The recent Supreme Court ruling giving corporations freedom of speech seemed utterly ridiculous to him. Corporations were already people before the ruling. They do not need a separate existence outside the one that it already enjoyed in the form of employees, shareholders, and customers. If what a corporation wanted was justified and noble the individuals would assemble and support it on top of the wheels of democracy. 

In the current situation, corporations can donate basically unlimited amounts of money to “political causes”, aka candidates, through shady special purpose political entities. With this money they can buy the votes and support of congress and politicians. The individuals who are supposedly there to represent the people not special interests. Steve was sure that when most politicians first entered politics they truly wanted to do what they thought was right. But nearly all take money from corporations to fund reelection campaigns. When you take money from someone they are your boss. They own you. If you do not do what the corporations say they will take the money away. In today’s politics that means no re-election because the person with the most money can run the most ads and stay in the front of people’s minds. Name recognition is 99% of the battle.

Steve knew the sorry fact that corporations can be run by less than scrupulous individuals. In fact some are most definitely sociopaths. These individuals will do whatever is necessary to satisfy their unlimited greed and quest for power. This can only be accomplished by increased earnings for their company. In some instances they corrupt our government in order to attain this goal. The owners of many corporations are foreign citizens. Doesn't this "free speech" hold our nation hostage to the highest bidder?

Steve did not condone the actions of politicians who sold out but he understood that they were driven by their own greed and lust for power. For after all they are only human. Politicians must do what the corporations say in order to stay in the office they so dearly love. It appeared to Steve that most lacked the courage to make a stand and risk the positions that they so loved more than the people they swore to serve.

To Steve the only way to combat this effect was the revocation of the ruling that granted corporations free speech and the imposing of term limits for congress. Career politicians will do what is necessary to keep their job. A swift flowing river moves things along and does not allow a tepid and corruptive pool to form. Pollutants are flushed out, as long as the source for the river is pure and clean. Corruption takes time though admittedly it can occur instantaneously. Swift change will limit the damaging effects of corruption just like the headwaters of a pure water source.

The three looked at the signs for a few minutes before Brian, the refrigerator sized man, looked at his watch.

“We really should get back. It’s time to get back to work”

Their thirty minute break in the middle of ten hour day was up. The three talked about what they saw as they returned to their office. Steve got back to his work but his mind continuously returned to the occupy movement. It was tough for him to focus on his work. He couldn’t fight the nagging feeling that he belonged down there. That he should join the movement. That change had to occur. The broken system would destroy the nation he loved so dearly if he didn’t. But he had a good job. He had debts to pay and dreams to live. What could one man do against a stacked system? Steve knew what the protesters were doing would bring attention to the problems. But what would they really accomplish? Perhaps just awareness. Due to the disorganization of the movement he doubted it would have much effect. They weren’t even championing political figures to enact the change that they demanded. He was afraid they had acted prematurely and would extend their momentum before the time to act was right.

Six o’clock finally rolled around and Steve packed up his standard issue Think Pad. It was the M -16 of the corporate world. It was a clear sign of a corporate worker in any airport or coffee shop. He gathered his two buddies and they headed to a sports bar to grab dinner and watch the game. They bitched about work and their current assignment. The bar wasn’t particular packed, and the food wasn’t particularly good, but the bartendresses were pretty damn good looking, and as a 23 year old single man, that was the most important thing to Steve.

They traveled up to Minnesota every week and had been doing this for weeks and they would continue doing it for weeks to come. They stayed in expensive hotels and had expense accounts that weren’t closely scrutinized. Although monotonous and tedious at times it wasn’t really that bad of a gig. It beat cutting fish which had been Steve’s job growing up. It sure as hell paid a lot better. The three had worked hard for this job and the life that came from it. They knew they were on the bottom of the corporate ladder but with hard work, ability, and a little luck they could one day be the CEOs that the protesters railed against.

The game finished up but Steve and Fred didn’t leave the bar with Brian. They stayed and had a couple more, which turned into a couple more, and before they knew it was time to close the bar. Steve knew he had to be up early tomorrow morning but that didn’t really bother him. He had five years of training at college in New Orleans. His buddy Fred was actually from New Orleans and shared Steve’s affinity for booze fueled late nights. The two headed out from the warm embrace of the bar and liquor and into the cold Minnesota night.

“Let’s go talk to the protesters” Steve said on a whim.

“Yeah…Let’s go” Fred agreed whole-heartedly, “let’s go talk to the dirty hippies”

The two made their way through the remarkably clean streets of Minneapolis in the clear night air. The towering buildings dwarfing the duo as they headed down the deserted streets. The street lights and building lights cast a multiple of shadows around them to the point that from above they looked like dark flowers moving along a concrete canvas. The inky black sky above them showed no stars for they were out shined by the lights of civilization. In no time at all they were approaching the green. There were three protesters huddled together on a bench smoking cigarettes. Two girls and a guy. As the duo walked up to the bench Steve noticed how stereotypical they looked with there ruffled heavy clothing, piercings, and unkempt hair.

“How’s it going” Steve said to none of the three in particular.

“Pretty good”, replied the guy

"Well, we work up there”, Steve said gesturing at the towering steel and glass structure behind him, “and well…we wanted to come down and talk to you all. We came through at lunch but didn’t get a chance to talk to any of you”

“Yeah?” Said the smaller skinny girl to the guy’s right. She was wearing black jeans and a scuffed black leather jacket. Her hair showing underneath a skiing cap was died a purplish color. She was borderline attractive but not the type of girl that he normally was attracted to.

“Yup” Said Fred. “We were just sort of wondering if you all know what you’re doing and what you want.”

“Well” The guy returned, “we want an end to corporate dominance of our country and a more equitable system”

“Do you know what you need to be asking for?” Steve replied

“What do you mean?” the guy questioned

“Well I mean do you know what the problems are with Wall St. What needs to be done to fix the system” Steve explained.

“Why can’t we just shut them all down?” the male protester exclaimed. 

“Well..." Steve started shaking his head slightly in disbelief at the total ignorance, "the stock market for one. That's where you trade shares of companies. Stock is a way you or I can buy little chunks of large corporations and get a share of the profits. A lot of these companies are very big. Now we need large banks to make large loans to companies owned by a lot of different people. I don’t know about you but I don’t have 100 million dollars to lend to a company to build a new factory. We can’t exactly just shut down Wall Street. We need it.”

“That’s an oversimplification”

“Is it? The problem isn’t with the root functions of Wall st. and banks it’s what these financials instructions have become. It’s what the government has allowed them to do under the guise of deregulation for the sake of a free market. It's the fact banks and financial institutions have become so under capitalized and over leveraged in the quest to increase profitability.”

“What do you mean?” Piped up the third protester. She was a little heavier than the other girl and was dressed in the dark clothing with a large overcoat. Her hair was a dirty blonde color.

“Well in the 90’s a republican congress pushed through a bill that overturned the Glass-Stiegel act which separated commercial and investment banks. A commercial bank is one that takes and holds your deposits and is federally insured. An investment bank could not take federally insured deposits but was allowed to make trades, or bets, on its own behalf. When they overturned it commercial banks began to become investment banks and make risky investments and were basically insured by the government on their losses because they hold depositors money”

“That's insane” the cuter girl interjected. 

“Oh it gets even better. Back around the turn of the century there were these things called Bucket Shops were people could basically go in and make a bet on the price of a stock going up and down. They could leverage, or borrow, more money to increase the size of their bet. When the stock market crashed most people lost all their money. It was such a problem that the practice of betting on an underlying price by an institution was made illegal. You had to have the capacity or ability to take possession of the asset to participate in the derivative, or an asset based on the price of another asset, in the market. “

"So what happened?” the chubby girl asked

“Well in the late 1990’s the underlying laws were destroyed in order to free up more ‘credit’ to spur more growth. This effectively turned our entire financial system into one giant casino. And guess what? The banks began betting with our money and the kicker is, as I said, they were essentially federally insured because your deposits are insured. The banks got so big that the government couldn’t let them fail when these bets went bad because too much depositor money was at stake.”

“I don’t agree with the Wall St. Bailout.” The heavier girl replied.

“Hahah…you don’t even know the half of it. They tell you that the bailout was only in the billions well guess what? When you total up all of the overnight loans and funds issued by the fed to the banks it totals over 14 trillion dollars. But they had to do it.”

“Why they should have let them fail. That’s what they deserved all that money could have just gone to paying us back.” replied the cuter girl.

“If they had let the banks and Wall st. fail there would have been a massive sell off of assets as they raised capital. People and pension funds would have been wiped out. The banks definitely got off lighter than they should have but that’s what you get when you pay for the politicians to be elected. “

“You sound like you agree with us. We need people like you.” Said the heavy-set girl.

“Ha…I do agree with most of what you say but I have a job. I can’t be protesting all day. Plus I’m working my way to make a change. I went to a school on a scholarship. I did the internship and I got the job. I got my undergrad in finance and masters of accounting. I studied business so my kid can study English or whatever they want to.”

“Well I’m in school to” Replied the cute girl, “and I had to take out huge student loans to pay for it and when I graduate I’ll probably not be able to get a job to pay them off.”

“I had to take out some loans to pay for my school. But I pursued a career so I could pay them off. What are you getting your degree in?”

“Art History”

Steve couldn't contain himself

“Are you f*****g kidding me? What the f**k were you thinking? What are you going to do with that degree? We live in a market society! You were irresponsible to get loans to get a degree that will never pay for them. The banks were irresponsible to give you a loan to get that degree. The school was irresponsible for allowing you to pursue that degree financing it by student loans.”

“Yeah,” Fred said. He’s been silent up to that point just listening to the conversation and slightly swaying with the breeze. 

“I mean I started college trying to get a degree in marketing. I failed out, worked for a bit and decided to enlist. Did my five years, got out, took my GI Bill and went back to school for a degree that I would get a job with and support me and my wife.”

“Why did you enlist? To kill people?” snapped the guy.

The look on Fred’s face was one of shock, disgust, then anger. Steve couldn’t believe that the young man had just said what he said. Without another word Fred spun around and walked away. Steve followed. It took him a couple minutes to catch up. Fred was moving quickly back towards his hotel.

“I can’t believe he said that buddy” Steve said as he caught up to Fred.

“It just shows how ignorant these people are. They don’t know anything. They are just f*****g immature children upset that they played the game wrong and now their losing and want a free pass. It’s f*****g pathetic. I enlisted to go back to college. A lot of people do that if they don’t want to get a student loan or can’t get one. That was just bullshit” Fred raged. 

“I’m sorry he said that. I guess I upset him criticizing her degree. They’re not all like that I’m sure” 

“Whatever. They’re goddamn ignorant”

The two walked in silence until they got to the hotel that Fred was staying at. The anger in his face never left and Steve just walked with him lost in his own thoughts. They bid a good night to each other and Steve headed to his hotel.

Steve knew that not every protester was like the ones they talked to. He also knew that they had a very good point overall. He just didn’t think that they had any hope of making an actual immediate change. The other side was beginning to pick them apart. The recent 53% movement was most likely backed by the 1% to make the protesters just seem like freeloaders looking for more handouts. Divide, distract, and destroy. The class war had been going on since Reagan and only now were the poor and middle class catching on. It might be too late though. At the very best they were bringing a knife to a gun fight.

The presidential election in a little over a year would be a true test of how the movement would end. The republican candidates for the most part made him sick. Their tax policies blatantly benefiting the wealthy by removing dividend and capital gain taxes. Steve knew most wealthy people don’t get most of their income from wages. They get it in the form of stock dividends or the sale of long held assets. Those republicans were ready to bleed the country dry fighting expensive wars they supported without recognizing that they would have to actually pay for it at some point. S**t most of the wealthy owned stock in defense companies and then lobbied for greater defense spending. It was the complete reverse of the trickle-down theory. All of the taxes of the middle class and the poor were being funneled into the pockets of the wealthy and corrupt. The greed of corrupt politicians and their puppet masters was destroying his great nation. As he walked back alone he thought about what he wanted to do, what he should do, and what he could do. These things swirled around his mind like a maddening hurricane of thoughts. A void existed between the “dirty hippies” and people like him. If the change they both wanted was ever going to occur the two needed to learn to work together. It might be impossible but as they say “the enemy of my enemy is my friend”.

Steve thought knew that if the dream that America is, or was, dies there was little hope for humanity? He knew that his generation could not afford to fail because, if they did, they failed their children, their grand children, and all others who might come after them. If they failed they failed the great men and women who fought, bled and died for America. Those who gave their light so the light of America would burn on. If the dream that was, and is, America succumbs to the wicked vices of man than they only had themselves to blame. 

They, Steve included, were the people of the United States of America. A light in a dark and brutal world. America is not perfect but it is the light of hope. They must struggle to reestablish the American dream and stock the fire which is the light of the world. It is easy to be pessimistic, cynical, and greedy. These are the characteristics of weak and timid individuals. America is not a land of such individuals. Their forefathers tamed the wilderness, defeated tyranny, and kept the flame of hope alive in the darkest hours of humanity. Steve felt that Americans are only asked to defeat their own demons and the enemy within: apathy, ignorance, hate, and greed. He knew these were the most dangerous enemies. Unlike external enemies everyone has the ability to fight these internal enemies. Steve knew that a great man once said, “do not ask what your country can do for you, but rather what you can do for your country”.

Steve knew we must all answer this challenge for failure is not an option. He stopped at the door to his hotel and bummed a cigarette off the lone man standing there smoking in the frigid night air. As we watched the flame spark up the cigarette, and the glowing ember form at the tip, he thought about the day and how it started looking down at the normally pastoral green. He smoked in silence for a few minutes. 

 “ E Pleurtbus Unum”  Steve muttered as he threw away the still lit cigarette butt. He turned and walked into the hotel not waiting to see where it would fall and what it would cause.