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By Rafael Goldberg In 2001, Argentina's economy collapsed. Defaulting on roughly 132 billion dollars of external debt, the country's currency (pegged as equal to the US dollar) shattered overnight. The people of Argentina woke to banks that wouldn't open their doors. Bank accounts were frozen, interest rates soared, and inflation skyrocketed. People quickly realized that the little money they had left was worth one fourth as much, and bought even less. Borrowing more was impossible for both the Argentine government and its citizens. Businesses were forced to close. Workers were fired. Entire industries were decimated. Suddenly and shockingly, a middle class society, one of the few in Latin America, was wiped out. The people of Argentina were forced to respond to the complicated economic crisis in a chaotic, uncertain and unstable environment. Every day, people marched in huge demonstrations, banging pots and pans and demanding change. In a little more than three weeks, five presidents were elected into and then immediately forced out of office. Protestors were dying in the streets. In 2002, I was studying politics and philosophy at New York University. Having covered the economic crisis in my coursework, I was, like my professors and many economists, deeply disturbed by what had transpired in Argentina. Argentina had been the star of the neo-liberal economic model pushed by the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund (IMF), and the powers-that-be in Washington. Overnight, we watched Argentina's star come tumbling down as the country suffered a total systemic breakdown. The economic crash was precisely what the prescriptions of the global lending community, multinational institutions and Washington were meant to prevent. Even from the comforts of the East Village, it was obvious that something was terribly wrong with the systems, assumptions, and understandings that had led to Argentina's economic crisis. Yet inexplicably, the establishment view of the events seemed to be, "The system is broken, but we can't, won't, or don't need to fix it." Very few people called for a real change in the way that developed nations and their institutions operate in the developing world. In the summer of 2002, I traveled to Argentina for the first time and witnessed, what I now know to be, a completely transformed Buenos Aires. Police checkpoints were omnipresent, projecting power to the population. On the streets of this once classically beautiful cosmopolitan city, whole families were engaged in what had become a popular and desperate occupation: collecting used cardboard to sell by the kilogram. Still corrupt and inefficient, the government was paralyzed. It could not respond to the needs of the people. Business also could not respond to the needs of the people. But still the people marched in giant demonstrations demanding solutions. You could hear the drums almost every night. It was on this trip that I first met Diego Gonzalez Carvajal, and saw interrupcion.*
For those who are accustomed to ATM machines in every deli, shopping markets full of food, a stable government, and a litany of other staples of modern Western society, it is hard to imagine the circumstances in Argentina. It's not hard to imagine, however, that when faced with such a situation, people would demand solutions from their government and would scramble to re-examine the actions their country had taken to arrive at such a destination. In this sense, crisis creates an environment that is conducive to great opportunity and innovation. It was in this environment that my friend, Diego Gonzalez Carvajal, and a group of young, motivated, and determined individuals decided to dedicate their lives to interrupcion*. Traditional societal understandings, assumptions and norms had been blown apart by the crisis. It was clear to Diego and others that in order to manage and rebuild their society, everyone would need to re-evaluate his/her roles. More than that, people would need to come together and create something new.
They needed to: interrupcion* represents the idea that people must take a more active and responsible role in the societies in which they live. interrupcion* is - in every sense - the first step in a long process of inclusion, productive action, and change. For this group of students, young professionals, entrepreneurs, economists, social workers, investors and many others, interrupcion* was to become a new way of living. Unlike many great ideas, which remain just ideas, interrupcion* has grown into a complex set of organizations that are doing incredible things . The re-thinkers and entrepreneurs of interrupcion* started The Center for Social Responsibility*, a non-profit dedicated to creating social and economic development tools and resources. They also created Corporacion Social*, a for-profit business that helps local manufacturers develop and market socially responsible goods. They developed their own series of micro-enterprises, which create jobs for the unemployed and marginalized, under the brand name Intepay*. Their office, known as el espacio* consists of a warehouse-sized restaurant, social center, and art gallery that serve as a place for the community to come together. Everything the members of interrupcion* had created was infused with the belief that there are better ways to do business that can recognize the interconnectedness of all individuals and benefit society as a whole. The energy of interrupcion* was irresistible. Immediately following graduation I traveled to back to Argentina. In New York following my second visit, I found myself lying in bed too anxious to sleep. The philosophies and actions of interrupcion* were buzzing around in my head. The next morning - jet lagged, excited, nervous, and motivated - I stood outside the NYU bookstore, waiting for it to open. At one time or another, I had purchased every required piece of material for my 'higher education' from this store: great works of literature, philosophy, science, poetry, politics, economics, art... everything. Back then, it had seemed enough to pour over books and dissect their authors' treatises. It had seemed as if the world was intellectual puzzle, pieced together through academic volumes and discussions. At ten o'clock, the bookstore's revolving doors began to spin. After thirty minutes of browsing through titles, I found a reference: a bright yellow of copy of Small Business for Dummies. On February 21st, 2003, I founded Social Enterprise LLC, the first member company of interrupcion* in the U.S. Our actions have a tremendous impact on the lives of those who are very far away. The current status quo of, "getting the most you can, for the least you can," is not working. Cycles of poverty, corruption, disenfranchisement, violence, disease, dictatorship, and environmental devastation are not acceptable realities. To be truly put into practice, interrupcion* could not only exist in Argentina. Its offshoots and tendrils were always intended to circle the globe. The interruption* of persistent negative cycles and, more importantly, their replacement with innovative solutions, tools, and processes is just as necessary here as it is in Argentina, Africa or Asia. All of humanity is inextricably bound together. Obviously, the scale of the issues we face is tremendous. Apparently, the tools and ideas of previous generations are not sufficient. Urgently, we need interrupcion.* For more information, check out www.interrupcion.net |
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