What Does It Mean to be a Citizen of the World?

I'm half Mexican, half Southern white guy.  I'm a historian of US and Latin American history.  I grew up listening to hip hop, a beautiful culture created by black Americans.  My favorite video game genre is Japanese role playing game.  My favorite author is a queer black man, James Baldwin; my favorite director is Japanese director and legend of world cinema, Akira Kurosawa.  Some of my other favorite movies come from outside the US, from countries like Mexico, Sweden, Ireland, Korea, and Thailand.  My political philosophy is shaped by thinkers from all over the world. So is my fighting style, as I've trained martial arts from around the world.

I say this not to sound all worldly and special.  In fact, what I think is kind of cool is that I'm not that unique at all here.  We're all connected to the rest of the world in tons of ways.  There's a good chance that you, the reader, probably have a bunch of different connections to the rest of the world, too.  Which brings to mind the phrase "a citizen of the world", an idea I've always liked, but never thought about in depth until recently.

So, what does it mea to be a citizen of the world?

Usually when I make a post about some sort of question about society I have a concrete answer.  That answer then functions as a sort of thesis for my post, almost as if I'm writing a paper.  But this'll be a bit different.  I'm just going to reflect without any set answer.  I guess, if I have any thesis, it's that being a citizen of the world shouldn't mean just consuming goods, customs, and ideas from other parts of the world, but involve some sort of reciprocity.  Being a citizen of the world implies being part of a global human community, after all.  But what that means and what that looks like will be different for each of us.

What is a "Citizen of the World"?

Speaking of my favorite director Akira Kurosawa, in his "Something Like an Autobiography" memoir of his, there is a quote I really like:

"No matter where I go in the world, although I can't speak any foreign language, I don't feel out of place. I think of the earth as my home. If everyone thought this way, people might notice just how foolish international friction is, and they would put an end to it." 

Another quote I like is from Thomas Paine, one of the most fascinating founding fathers of the US (and, in my own personal view, perhaps the only one truly worth celebrating- but that is a different blog post).  It's short, sweet, and to the point:

"The world is my country, all mankind are my brethren, and to do good is my religion."

What stands out to me about these quotes is that they both provoke a call to action.  They're not just about appreciating other cultures, as neat and important as that is.  It's not only about what movies you watch, or what food you eat, or what languages you speak.  It's about how you relate to people around the world, how you're willing to connect to them, and why that matters.  For Kurosawa it matters to create a sense of global connectedness so we don't view each other with suspicion and hatred, while for Paine it matters that we do good to others, even if they're continents away.

A True Global Community

Above is a picture of Genki Sudo, a popular Japanese MMA star from the late '90s to mid '00s known for his flashy ring entrances.   Arguably his most famous moment, however, came neither during a walkout nor a fight.  It came right after.  After one of his victories in the early '00s, he help up a banner with all the world's flags saying "we are all one" in front of a cheering crowd with complete sincerity.  It's a sweet moment that is remembered fondly by many across the sport, even those whose entire worldview goes against what Sudo was saying.

MMA is a perfect microcosm of how much being a "global citizen" can matter, but often doesn't.  What I mean is: MMA is a sport that displays amazing martial art techniques from all over the world and celebrates "we are all one" signs.  Yet it also has a huge problem with racists and other far right hate figures, dating back to a forefather with ties to the Brazilian fascists in the 1930s.  So, what's the point of a "global" culture of it can create such close-minded, xenophobic views?  Is patting yourself on the back for being worldly worth anything if it can be twisted into something so rotten?  Is "global citizen" something even worth aspiring toward if you might end up with something that goes directly against those values?

I think it is worth it.  But we must approach it the right way.  Calling yourself a global citizen and creating a list of ways you're inspired by other cultures isn't enough.  What I said about myself at the beginning of this post isn't enough, because it's just me defining myself by how much I benefit from the rest of the world.  It's all about what I want, what I like.  By watching foreign films you like or training martial arts you find effective or befriending people from places you find interesting, you're only thinking of the world in terms of what it can offer you.  Which, to an extent, isn't bad!  There are many beautiful things, ideas, and people around the world.  Why not watch some Kurosawa films and read some James Baldwin books and strike up a conversation with someone from a different homeland than you?

But what about what we give back?  Genki Sudo is now a politician in Japan, a member of their House of Councillors (roughly the equivalent of our Senate).  His three main policy concerns are food safety, global environmental protection, and a foreign policy involved in peace.  Another self proclaimed citizen of the world, socialist politician and labor leader Eugene Debs, said "I have no country to fight for; my country is the earth, and I am a citizen of the world."  Aside from fighting for all the things you'd expect a socialist to fight for, like worker rights and economic democracy, he was also arrested for speaking out against World War 1 (the one where there were no clear bad guys, unlike World War 2).  He did so because he was willing to risk his freedom to oppose sending young men to die in vast numbers in a brutal, senseless war against the young men of Germany, Turkey, and elsewhere.

Closing Thoughts

So what does it mean to be a citizen of the world?  I don't know.  I'll probably never have an exact definition in my head.

What I do know, though, is that it can't just be a matter of what we like about other cultures.  It can't just be about us picking and choosing what we like, as if the world owes us everything while we owe it and the people in it nothing.  If it's to mean anything worthwhile at all, it should mean taking part in a way where there is both give and take.  I can watch Kurosawa movies and train Brazilian jiu-jitsu, but I also have to care about people from these places too.

Thanks for reading!

Modern Masterpiece: The Irishman

I've never been into crime movies.  I don't think they're bad movies or anything, they've just never been my cup of tea.  Perhaps because most good crime movies mix portraying the temptations and glamors that come with making it to the top in organized crime with their inevitable, corruption-driven downfalls.  You get a morality play in the end, but before that you go with these characters on an ostentatious roller coaster ride through the alluring prizes that ill-begotten money and power bring.

As someone who grew up with a dad addicted to crack/cocaine, nothing related to a life connected to that sort of stuff ever appealed to me.  Seeing characters on screen do drugs and crimes and leaving a trail of destruction in their wake does nothing to titillate me. The journey that these characters go on before their downfalls, therefore, just feels stressful and off-putting to me, so I never viscerally invest in anything happening before everything comes crashing down.

The Irishman, made by Martin Scorcese back in 2019, solves this problem for me.  Those of you who know me know I'm a historian, and you may think I connect with this movie because it features so many historical figures and events.  Which, in part, is true!  I found it fascinating how the movie shows the connection the mob has to so many important aspects of US history.  That's definitely a part of it.

But that alone isn't enough.  I actually don't really care for historical movies in and of themselves more than any other genre.  If you were to look at a list of my favorite movies, you might be surprised to see how few historical dramas are on that list. What this movie did so well was hook me by giving the main character a deeper sense of meaning to identify with before everything comes crashing down.  Because while this is a crime movie, it's also a lot more than that.

What we see in this movie is a mobster hitman, played Robert De Niro, who gets to where he is because of the connection between the mafia and the Teamsters during the mid-20th Century.  De Niro's character undoubtedly is not a good man, but unlike in most mobster movies, he at least has a redeeming side in that he also helps people make a better living as an active member (and, later, as a  leader) in the International Brotherhood of Teamsters.  This means that, paradoxically, the more power he and his other mafia-connected union brothers get, the more their corruption helps other people.  It's an interesting dilemma, to say the least.

It also helps make the eventual fall feel even more devastating.  Because the "fall" here isn't the drastic, catastrophic comeuppance of a normal mafia movie.  It's a life of empty loneliness for the protagonist after he makes an irreversible decision that seals his fate.  It's the decision to murder a friend.  And this murder is not just the death of another person, but the death of anything within the protagonist that had any actual meaning. And I think there's something deeply symbolic about that in relation to the idea of the American Dream after World War 2.

So, I guess ultimately I do love this movie in a historical sense.  But I love it for what I it means symbolically, rather than for any specific historical figure or event that features in the movie.

In this post, first I'll start by going to give a really brief bit of historical context to the movie.  Then I'll return to the movie and why I think it works really well thematically.  Finally, I'll zoom out to how I think this movie can be seen as a metaphor for the United States' own rise and (current) fall itself.

The History

Most people have probably heard vaguely of the fact that the Teamsters had connections to organized crime.  Well, you heard correctly!  But the backstory to that is a little more complex than you might think.  See, in the late 1800s and early 1900s, it was fairly common for corporations to hire goons to beat up workers when these workers organized and stood up for their rights.  When they tried to fight for things like better wages or to form a union, it wasn't uncommon for the bosses to just straight up use hired muscle to help put those workers down.  For some in organized labor, including the Teamsters, they decided they should create links with certain elements of the mob as a way to defend themselves.  Those links, unfortunately, sometimes settled into a sustained relationship that corrupted the unions who pursued them.

The mob was often used by the US government as well, including as intermediaries between agents of the US government and seedier people and organizations.  Like with organized labor, this led to the government allowing some morally and legally questionable things to occur.  This included allowing the mob almost free reign in Cuba, which is why they really did hate Fidel Castro when he came to power- one of his first priorities was to rid his nation of organized crime.  In fact, as is suggested in the movie, there is credible evidence to the claim that the mafia may have been involved in the assassination of President JFK.  This is in part because they were upset he didn't turn the Bay of Pigs into a full-blown invasion of Cuba.  To them, that mean he "wasn't trying hard enough" to get rid of Fidel- and therefore wasn't allowing them to set up shop in Cuba once again.

Whether or not they killed him, though, it remains true that they certainly didn't like him.  Another reason for their dislike, and possible desire to assassinate him, was his brother Robert.  Despite the fact that JFK's father did indeed have deep connections to the mafia, Robert went after them in court as JFK's attorney general.  This led to bipartisan hearings on getting rid of organized crime in organized labor, though much of it can be seen more as an effort by people in power to try to find a way to break the power of workers and make organized labor look bad than an actual hunt for justice.  For example, when investigating United Auto Workers union leader Walter Reuther, a straight arrow who never took bribes or used union funds inappropriately, many of those on the committee were more frustrated than happy to find him innocent of any wrongdoing.  Many of them set out with the goal to undermine union leaders, rather than honestly see who was clean or dirty.

Regardless, though, the Teamsters and some other unions had ties to the mob, just as the government did. The 20th century saw a complicated web of ties between organized labor, the government, and the mob.  This is where Scorcese's film comes in.

The Movie

The movie follows Robert De Niro as Frank Sheeran, a World War 2 veteran who becomes a sort of intermediary between the Teamsters and the mafia.  He has one foot planted in each world, working as both a Teamster leader and a hitman.  This allows him to do both good and bad.  The former isn't emphasized very much, as this is still fundamentally a crime drama, but it is shown indirectly.  One scene has Frank celebrated as someone "who has set a record for arrests on the picket line" during his work as a Teamster leader, a genuinely noble record to have.

Frank's dual nature can be seen through his relationship to his two mentor characters, one from each world.  There is Jimmy Hoffa, the passionate leader of the Teamsters, played masterfully by Al Pacino.  Then there is Russell Bufalino, the menacingly quiet mob boss who brings Frank into the complex world this movie inhabits, played equally masterfully by Joe Pesci.  Now, this isn't to suggest a simplistic good vs evil dichotomy in which Hoffa is the angel on Frank's shoulder while Bufalino is the devil.  Hoffa is as guilty of corruption as any union boss ever has been.  His hands are by no means clean. But he genuinely cares about his union, and gets results for his workers.  Pesci, meanwhile, is nothing but an avatar of violence, intimidation, and mafioso pride.

This can be seen clearly through the relationship these men have with Frank's daughter, Peggy.  Frank has a strained relationship with Peggy because of the violent tendencies he displays, most brutally shown when he aggressively stomps out a grocery clerk for pushing his daughter.  That relationship is downright affectionate, however, in comparison to her relationship with Bufalino.  Every attempt at connection Bufalino makes toward Peggy is met with a cold rebuff.  In his painfully pathetic attempts to connect to Peggy, we see that Bufalino has nothing to offer when he cannot threaten someone.

On the other hand, she immediately clicks with Hoffa.  She comes to admire him and the cause of organized labor to the point that he becomes something of a surrogate father to her throughout the movie. Because, while he is no saint, he at least stands for something. He is a flawed hero with principles, even if he gets his hands dirty in the pursuit of them.

When Frank is eventually told to kill Hoffa, he does it.  This effectively kills any sort of greater meaning his life had.  Again, this isn't a simple matter of good vs evil; Hoffa was no boy scout the way other labor leaders like Walter Reuther or Eugene Debs were.  But, once again, he at least stood for something greater than himself.  Frank chooses Bufalino, though, and in so doing severs anything more meaningful in his heart than naked force and power.  When his daughter realizes what happened, she never speaks to him for the rest of his life.  Because all that was redeemable in him died with Hoffa.

The dynamic between Frank, Hoffa, and Bufalino, and how this push and pull between them is reflected through Peggy, is the heart of the movie for me.  It's what makes it so compelling.

The Bigger Picture

In some ways, I think the fact Frank is a World War 2 veteran is just as metaphorically important as him being a Teamster.  Because WW2 represents the last time the US undeniably fought in a justified war.  I mean, who can argue with stopping European fascists and Imperial Japan?  The crimes they committed all over the world needed to be stopped.  The fact Frank Sheeran took part in that implies a certain nobility to this character before he gets mixed up in everything that happens in the movie.

And yet, just as the nobility of what the Teamsters did didn't excuse their bad side, the nobility of defeating the Nazis, Italian fascists, and Japanese militarists doesn't mean that the US had clean hands, either.  In fact, a lot of Nazi policies were partially inspired by the US; specifically, US treatment of black and Native American people.  Meanwhile, the US had a history of intervening in places before and after World War 2 for its own interests, including repeated instances of overthrowing democracies and replacing them with dictatorships if they threatened US interests. As a Latin American historian, I could rant for hours on end about US foreign policy in that region alone.

In this light, the journey of the US looks a little different.  It looks a little bit more like Frank Sheeran than we might care to admit.  There are some noble things within both.  Sheeran's work through the Teamsters functions well as a metaphor for some of the laudable achievements of the US in its war against fascism abroad and the position of organized labor at home after the war.  Indeed, a large part of the high standards of living Americans enjoyed after World War 2 came from the strong union movement that existed in the country at the time. The US therefore had some aspects of itself that genuinely meant something impressive.  Things that went beyond self-centered gratification and brute force. Yet these achievements were also partially written in blood, lies, and greed, just as they were for Frank Sheeran.

In the movie, Frank Sheeran throws what Jimmy Hoffa represented away when he pulled that trigger.  In the US, we have fought no wars as justifiable and noble as World War 2 since, and we have indeed seen our union movement erode, our wages stagnate, and inequality skyrocket thanks to corporations and big money interests.  Because our country, in a broad sense, pulled the trigger on Jimmy Hoffa just the way Sheeran did.

This movies works for me on two levels, then.  It works as a personal tale about a man with conflicting inner natures who ultimately chooses an empty path of violence that throws away all hope for redemption.  It also works as a metaphor for the system we live under.  Any time a movie can work so well on different levels by weaving together a layered, complex story, I'm a huge fan.  Especially when you have a compelling storyteller like Scorcese as the weaver.

Thanks for reading!