Jay MichaelsonThis is the essence of Burning Man, to me. That the rules don't suck. And that the social norms are set up so that the default assumption when you see someone is to talk to them, relate to them, be open. That we're all here, together, to do our own thing and expand our possibilities of what it is to be alive. We question our internal rules also: am I the "sort of person" who does throat-singing while wearing electroluminescent wire? If not, why not? As the man burns, we are encouraged to burn: to burn away limits that don't work (thus respecting more those which do), to burn in joy, to burn in the ecstasy that results from the expansion of our zones of possibility.
Now, the Dead used to have their own TAZ, and it still exists a little bit on "Shakedown Street," where the real, good capitalism was to be found. Inside the Tommy Hilfiger at Jones Beach Arena, to which we all paid a mandatory 'facilities fee' of $3.50 in addition to the cost of our ticket (which, of course, goes in large part to the facilities), a coke cost $6. In the parking lot, a buck. Yet somehow the mainstream says that it's unreasonable to dance in an aisle but reasonable to charge six dollars for a soda. The mainstream even has its bullshit rationale for why that's the case ("you're paying for convenience") but that is bullshit because it would be even more convenient to let the vendors in the gates so I could get a cheap coke at the show. That would be real capitalism, and real competition. Instead, the venue excludes these people - because it can - and extorts its customers. If we were really capitalist, we would let anyone compete for business. But we're not. We're corporate capitalist, and in that world, you can't really compete.
At Burning Man, vending is prohibited. It's a gift economy, with a dose of bartering thrown in. No selling. No private monopolies, no logos, and plenty of food, toys, clothes being given away, because it expands the heart to give, and you'll get plenty in return.
At the Tommy Hilfiger arena, if any of the fans wanted to dance naked, they would be ejected and probably arrested. At Burning Man, where what you want, or nothing, whatever. At Tommy Hilfiger, you better watch where and what you smoke, because our mainstream culture fears anything other than a narrow band of approved mind-states. At Burning Man, you still have to watch the cops, but the TAZ itself respects your right to expand or contract your mind as you wish.
The Jones Beach arena espouses values of greed, fear, and conformity. No question about it: all their rules were about keeping us tame and taking as much of our money as they could get. And yet, we are so inured to this culture that it passes beneath our notice. It seems shrill even to complain about it. We are living under the thumb of the cops who tell us not to have any fun, and of corporate capitalism which fixes prices for goods out of greed. And we have been convinced that as long as the agents of the system are decent people, that we shouldn't complain.
The American model of corporate capitalism is taking over the world, because capital is power and nothing seems able to withstand it. TAZ's like Burning Man exist in the interstitial spaces of the globalized world, and quietly create their own alternatives. At some point, the cops of the world will find out all about us and crush us. Our liberty threatens the artificial boundaries that allow their weak lives to exist, and they will find a way to destroy us if we grow too large or too noticeable to be ignored. (Interestingly other temporary autonomous zones operate throughout the world, like Export Processing Zones and other lawless places where cheap labor is exploited. Yet these, unlike Burning Man, don't constantly face the risk of closure.) But in the meantime, those with the courage to question themselves and open themselves enjoy sensual, communal, spiritual, and artistic pleasures beyond the ken of the vast majority of humanity. Burning Man is not the only place for such experiences; there are shamanistic traditions around the world, radical art collectives, intense communities of family, tribe, and affinity. But it is one place. Do you dare?
Jay Michaelson recently taught Kabbalah at Burning Man as part of Congregation B'nai Hamidbar, the Burning Man synagogue.
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