Iran’s Theocracy: An Uneasy Fusion of Religion and Political Economy

As mass protests erupted in Iran during the second week of January, 2026, Iran’s theocracy was on edge. That the protests stemmed from the dire economic conditions facing the people amid staggering inflation, including on basic food staples, rather than from foreign affairs, raises the question of whether religious clergy, including the “supreme leader,” Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, are competent in making economic policy. Without the ongoing political pressure that can come from constituents in a representative democracy, or republic, it is no surprise that the protests in Iran quickly became mass riots. In other words, bad economic policy by religious clerics in power in an autocracy can easily result in popular protests abruptly erupting into rioting. The overreaching of functionaries based in the domain of religion into politics (including economic policy), such that the distinctiveness of the two domains is ignored or obfuscated, can be distinguished from the problems that go with autocracy.

On January 9, 2026, the theocracy signaled that the rioting would be dealt with severely. Iran’s judiciary chief, Gholamhossein Mohseni-Ejei, in assuming a non-judicial political role, “vowed that punishment for protesters ‘will be decisive, maximum and without any legal leniency.”[1] Separation of powers obviously did not exist in the Islamic regime. That both the internet and international calls were being blocked by the government signals that the protests could realistically result in the fall of the Islamic revolution in Iran. In other words, the severity of the government’s measures in shutting down communication can be read as indicative of a government whose days are numbered. In an interview, U.S. President Trump said that Iran’s dictator was already “looking to go someplace” because the situation on the streets was “getting very bad.”[2]

Demonstrating that expertise in theology does not extend to politics (as well as economics), Khamenei accused the rioters of “ruining their own streets . . . in order to please the president of the United States.”[3] Nothing was said about the hyperinflation that was putting even basic foodstuffs out of reach for an increasing number of people as the reason for the protests. Nothing was said about Crown Prince Reza Pahavi having called for the protests on January 8, 2025, and that the protests “included cries in support of the shah,” which can be distinguished from chants in favor of President Trump, which did not occur.[4] Pahavi was not calling for the United States to invade Iran. Ayatollah Ali Khamenei’s rhetoric was therefore very poor from a political standpoint (i.e., his statement was incorrect), and he did not address the reeling economy in any constructive way in terms of advocating economic reform that actually had a chance of working. Knowledge in theology does not carry over onto the domains of politics and economics, so the overreach is problematic.

This critique can be distinguished from one premised on the American separation of “church and state,” which actually could use some work in American jurisprudence because “In God We Trust” is printed on the currency. To be against a government establishing a religion (e.g., proclaiming a religion to be the official religion) is different than being against a religion superimposing its distinctive criteria onto a civic government because an over-reaching of the political domain into the religious domain is distinct from the religious domain overreaching into the political realm, even though both instantiate the conflation of two distinct domains of human experience. Ayatollah Ali Khamenei should have stuck to theology as a cleric rather than try to run a government, and his response to the economic protests—even that such protests morphed so quickly into riots—demonstrates the intractably problematic nature of overreaching from one domain onto another, qualitatively different, one as if the criteria and credentials of the former could and should supplant those of the latter in the latter.

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1. Jon Gambrell, “Iran Supreme Leader Signals Upcoming Crackdown on Protesters ‘Ruining Their Own Streets’ for Trump,” APnews.com, January 9, 2026.
2. Ibid.
3. Ibid.
4. Ibid.

Corporate Governance and Political Activism: The Case of Ben & Jerry's

When a company’s management decides to take a partisan position publicly on a political issue, especially one that is contentious, decreased revenue, whether from potential or actual consumers individually who disagree with the company’s position, or from an organized boycott from groups that stand against the position. Anger may be a stronger motivator than ideological agreement, in which case any increase in purchases would be less than the lost revenue. This asymmetry itself is interesting from the standpoint of human nature, and strongly suggests that CEO’s steer their respective companies, which managements operate on behalf of the stockholders anyway, away from taking controversial positions on social or political issues that do not directly and significantly pertain to the bottom-line (i.e., profitability) in the short- or medium-term. In short, wading into societal issues is, generally speaking, not good for business. What then about a company like the ice-cream manufacturer, Ben & Jerry’s, which from its inception had social/political activism as a salient part of the company’s mission?

Both the initial two owners and all subsequent owners, which includes Unilever, which bought the company in 2000, could not have become owners with the understanding that they were buying (into) an apolitical company, so the fiduciary duty of management was not breached. That Unilever fired Ben & Jerry’s CEO, Dave Stever, in 2025 because he had continued the subsidiary’s very public political activism presumably because it included criticism of U.S. President Trump is, let us say, complicated. I contend that the firing constitutes a breach of contract even though that contract contradicts the principle of corporate governance in part but not enough to justify allowing the firing to stand legally.  

On March 18, 2025, the management of Ben & Jerry’s accused the subsidiary’s parent-company of violating the ice-cream-maker’s “independence on social policy issues.”[1] It is precisely because a parent-company has the legal right to control the management of a subsidiary.

Unilever had informed the management of Ben & Jerry’s on March 3^rd that the latter’s CEO was being removed “without consulting directors because of his commitment to the ice-cream maker’s social mission and brand integrity, not because of concerns about his job performance.”[2] Unilever’s managers had “repeatedly warned personnel” at Ben & Jerry’s “not to defy” that management’s “efforts to ‘silence the social mission’” of the subsidiary.[3] Unilever’s management blocked the management of Ben & Jerry’s from honoring of Black History Month and opposing the detention of Mahmoud Khalil, “a U.S. permanent resident” who had been “active in pro-Palestinian demonstrations at Columbia University.”[4] It was not as if the subsidiary were supporting a “KKK (i.e., racist) month” and gang activity coming across the border from Mexico and hitting streets in the U.S.; nevertheless, the positions that Ben & Jerry’s management wanted to take were controversial in nature, though it is not clear that either position would have lost the subsidiary much revenue. 

The issue, I submit, comes down to corporate governance. Ordinarily, when a company buys another, the former gets to control the latter. It is not like a federal system wherein two governing bodies have at least some governmental sovereignty over the same territory; rather, corporate governance is top-down. The question is whether, in buying Ben & Jerry’s, Unilever’s agreeing to recognize and go through an independent board tasked with safeguarding the political and social activism that were so much a part of the ice-cream brand was valid. In refusing to go through that board and in accusing the management of Ben & Jerry’s as defying the Unilever management, the latter was taking the position that as the owner of the subsidiary, Unilever could unilaterally cancel the agreement.

Prime facie, to sign off on a clause in a legal contract and while presuming the legal right to unilaterally invalidate said clause without notifying the counterparty of the escape clause before the signing is odious and unethical (the technical term being sneaky). The practice could be considered a form of lying because the standard understanding of a legal contract is that all parties signing it accept that they are bound to it and thus cannot legally violate it. Kant reasoned that promise-breaking is unethical because if such a policy were universalized, making a promise (or an agreement) would not make sense because no one with any sense would sign a written contract. The logical contraction itself offends reason and is thus unethical because it is by the use of reason that we assign value to things.

Another ethical issue is whether it is fair that Unilever fired Ben & Jerry’s CEO even though plans were in place to spin off the subsidiary later that year. In February, 2025, the subsidiary’s management had “accused Unilever of unilaterally banning [the subsidiary’s management] from publicly criticizing [U.S. President] Trump, ostensibly because of the ‘new dynamic.”[5] Given the spin-off plans, this could very well have been the motive in firing the CEO because even a few months more of political speech could be dire for Unilever financially, given the president’s penchant for payback. Using corporate governance to stifle political dissent is, however, questionable ethically as well as from the standpoint of democracy. The ethical issue would be exacerbated were Unilever’s board-members or its CEO supporters of President Trump. In terms of democracy, an elected president’s de facto control of companies with respect to wiping out political dissent is obviously problematic because of the importance and right of free-speech in maintaining a republic. Of course, Hitler’s political use of companies to locate political dissent and even to find Jews didn’t face any such obstacles.

As important as ethics and political freedom are, the core issue in this legal case pertains to corporate governance itself. Specifically, do property rights, such as a parent company has in being able to control any of its subsidiary companies, trump even a written contract by which a parent company has agreed that subsidiary’s management can be protected from certain exercises of control by the parent company’s management or board? This is the pertinent question in this legal case.

Noting that a person putting one’s labor (or money, which represents labor in part) into something renders it legitimately one’s own property, John Locke saw property rights as existing in the state of nature, whereas Thomas Hobbes did not; in the contentious seventeenth-century Europe, he advocated that a political sovereign be given a monopoly on political (and religious) power in part to protect the property of people so they would not kill each other over it (though the sovereign could of course take over the property without providing a justification). In the antebellum southern States in the USA wherein slaves were considered property, those slaves had no rights against their respective owners. It is ironic that a case of humans-as-property illustrates the epitome of property rights, and yet such rights in themselves, at least in a society, have a legitimate basis. My point is that while we may not like where the doctrine of property rights can take us, modern corporate governance is on a sound footing philosophically.

Unilever’s breach of contract may, however, run aground because a system of property rights is for practical purposes based in a legal framework, wherein a breach of contract is not legal even though particular circumstances may admittedly justify it ethically and even legally. The question of whether Ben & Jerry’s CEO could legally “defy” the board or management of Unilever because officials representing the latter signed a legal contract mandating the use of the independent board centers on whether that clause can be considered to be legally valid and thus binding even though it “defies” the doctrine of property rights upon which corporate government itself rests.

I contend that the clause is legally enforceable. It is not as if that clause were in “boiler-plate” small-print that the lawyers at Unilever missed. It is not as if the clause contains an escape sub-clause for Unilever, for Ben & Jerry’s management (and lawyers) would have flagged it as undercutting the very point in having the clause in a legal contract. Moreover, the willful unilateral decision by a party to a contract that it no longer binding is offensive to law itself, which is an important foundation for a free society, l’etat est moi is a different story. In fact, it is as if the board or management of Unilever were saying, we are above the law, or we are the law. Either premise guts the basis of a legal system, and thus of corporate governance too. Such a governance system in the private sector is based on a legal system even more fundamentally than on property rights because even such rights are premised on a legal system (even though Locke disagreed). Regardless of what holds in the state of nature, the rights of property in a society are granted by law, which requires the existence of a legal system unless law is the will of a political sovereign. This is why it is so important that the President of the United States recognize the constitutional validity of judicial decisions bearing on a president’s will, for otherwise that will could easily become law and no legal system would be needed; the republic would collapse into dictatorship.

That a republic, including federal republics wherein smaller republics also exist—the E.U. and U.S. being notable examples—can (and have) become autocracies demonstrates just how tenuous democracy can be. Property rights, too, may be tenuous, especially in autocracies even though eminent domain exists in republics. To be sure, the lack of legal restraint on a regime of dictatorship, for the state’s will is the law, means that property owners are not typically monetarily compensated for the loss of their respective properties taken by the state. The legally contracted legitimacy of the independent board protecting Ben & Jerry’s social-activist-brand intangible asset is in relative terms not much of an affront to property rights as instantiated in corporate governance.

I have argued that Unilever’s representatives signed the contract of the merger-agreement means that the independent board is not even not much of an affront. In effect, Unilever’s property rights regarding  Ben & Jerry’s explicitly excluded the right to ignore the independent board. As a principle to be derived from this case, it can be maintained that corporate governance does not necessitate or require an absolutist doctrine of property rights. The very existence of the state, whether democratic or autocratic, means that absolute property-rights do not and cannot exist. Therefore, a purchaser of an asset agreeing by legal contract to restrict one’s rights with respect to the use of the asset is legally valid and thus should not be vitiated by later appeals to the doctrine of property rights. In renting house, the house’s owner typically agrees in the lease to restrictions on entering the house. The state may mandate this restriction to protect renters even thought their use of a rented property is not ownership. That is, use-rights can trump property-rights in certain respects short of the right to assume ownership of the property, and the existence of such restrictions on property rights does not destroy property rights as a prominent part of a legal system.

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1. Jonathan Stempel, “Ben & Jerry’s Says Parent Unilever Decided to Oust Ice Cream Maker’s CEO,” Reuters, March 18, 2025.
2. Ibid.
3. Ibid.
4. Ibid.
5. Ibid.

Hong Kong’s Chief Executive Capitulates on a Proposed Extradition Law

Facing huge violent protests, Carrie Lam, the chief executive of Hong Kong, a semi-autonomous region of China, decided on June 15, to indefinitely suspend her proposal to open extradition to mainland China and Taiwan. As the Chinese government demonstrated during the protests at Tiananmen Square decades earlier, holding a mass protest in China was not among the ways to impeded proposed legislation. Why, then, did Lam seem to cave into the popular protests in Hong Kong?

Perhaps it is naïve to claim that even in China, when popular protests are so large government officials cannot but conclude that enough of the people are advocating that Rousseau’s general will has spoken. Of course, a highly visible protest need not be from a majority of citizens. Often the political extremes show up to protest while the centrist majority stays home. In fact, the regularization or ubiquity of political protests in the E.U. and U.S. may dilute the ability to stand out in such a way that the intended change will happen. The Arab Spring’s mass protests in the Middle East demonstrate that even huge protests can be “regularized” within the control of a government. So I think the efficacy of protests has diminished as they have become increasingly hackneyed. It follows that the large, violent protests in Hong Kong in 2019 against the extradition bill were not decisive in the legislation’s untimely demise.

Alternatively, that local business leaders turned away from Lam on the issue could be said to be the decisive change that led to Lam’s decision to indefinitely shelve the bill. In the U.S. especially, the loss of support of corporate leaders could indeed stop legislation from progressing. The power by which corporations can use campaign contributions and lobbying in Washington, D.C. had indeed become formidable by 2019. In contrast, however, the Chinese government was relatively strong against the power of amassed private capital (i.e., large companies). With the support of the Chinese government, Lam could have handled the errant business elite, but did she have the central government’s support?

Government officials in Beijing “were starting to question her judgment in picking a fight on an issue that they [regarded] as a distraction from their real priority: the passage of stringent national security legislation in Hong Kong.”[1] So rather than yielding to the streets or the business sector, Lam yielded to the central government. The implication is that Hong Kong’s semi-autonomous status within a dictatorship could be questioned. In fact, semi-autonomous is an oxymoron in a dictatorship—that is to say, a façade.

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1. Keith Bradsher, “In Hong Kong, Leader Yields to the Streets,” The New York Times, June 16, 2019.

An Empire's Economic Scale Demands a Market System: The Case of China

A trend of increased-scale economies can be observed through history as city-states have given way to the increased military power of centralized Medieval kingdoms. Many of those expanded into Early Modern kingdoms as advances in military technology make it possible for kings to extend the territory under their control. Even empires have gotten bigger. Modern-day Germany was once considered an empire, as were Switzerland and the Netherlands. Today these polities are states in a modern form of empire, the EU. Similarly, the emergent United Colonies of America was considered to be an empire within the British Empire, with the individual colonies being viewed on both sides of the Atlantic as Early Modern kingdom-level polities on par with the states of the E.U. in the twentieth century. Similarly in China, as kingdoms were added, an old form of empire took shape. Because these enlargements came about gradually over centuries, it has been difficult for the human mind to recalibrate how the modern large empire-scale economies should be designed to take into effect the distinct challenges of the scale. We can see such an adjustment in the case of China as economic centralization came to be replaced by regulated markets, albeit with a sizeable involvement still of the government in the economy. 
Communism, for lack of a better word, has somehow morphed into Capitalism in China, as if a genetic mutation had taken hold through mitosis. This reflects an important trend that can be traced back to Deng Xiaoping (1904-1997), who “abandoned many orthodox communist doctrines and attempted to incorporate elements of the free-enterprise system into the Chinese economy” beginning in the late 1970's, according to the Encyclopedia Britannica. Decades later, upon becoming prime minister, Li Keqiang announced in 2013 that the central government would reduce the state’s role in the economy. The Chinese government issued a set of policy proposals to reduce “government intervention in the marketplace” and give “competition among private businesses a bigger role in investment decisions and setting prices.”[1] According to the proposals, a tax on natural resources would be expanded, market forces would play a larger role in determining bank interest rates, and, according to the government, policies would be enacted to “promote the effective entry of private capital into finance, energy, railways, telecommunications and other spheres.”[2] Foreign investors would be given more opportunities to invest in finance, including banking, logistics and healthcare. Foreign exchange controls would also be loosened further.
The proposals were enough for Stephen Green, an economist with Standard Chartered, to remark, “This is radical stuff, really.”[3] Huang Yiping, chief economist at Barclays, pointed to lower growth projections and massive amounts of debt as giving the Chinese government a rather practical motive in continuing the trend of refurbishing communism. Many experts doubted, however, whether the Communist Party would “abandon the state capitalist model, break up huge, state-run oligopolies or privatize major sectors of the economy that the party considers strategic, like banking, energy and telecommunications.”[4] Additionally, corrupt government officials would doubtlessly resist losing what the New York Times called their “secret stakes in companies,” not to mention all the bribes.[5]
Even so, it is astounding that the prime minister, a communist, would say: “If we place excessive reliance on government steering and policy leverage to stimulate growth, that will be difficult to sustain and could even produce new problems and risks. The market is the creator of social wealth and the wellspring of self-sustaining economic development.”[6] Marx and Lenin would hardly recognize the Chinese Communist Party. Because China has over a billion people, the old “command-and-control” economic model based on centralized directives on production quotas and prices had become increasingly difficult to coordinate. Bottlenecks in supply causing shortages on the shelves could eventually occur, with political instability increasingly likely.  The sheer scale of China, an empire of former kingdoms, has rendered centralized control highly inefficient.

The Emperor Kangxi of the Qing Dynasty. He ruled for 60 years, greatly expanding the size of the empire.      Source: Chinahighlights.com

Interestingly, even as Emperor Kangxi (1654-1722), the second emperor of the Qing Dynasty (1644-1911), expanded the empire by taking over central Asian Muslim kingdoms, he resisted the preceding Ming Dynasty’s laissez-faire policy on internal trade and industry by turning some crucial industries into monopolies. Interestingly, John D. Rockefeller would probably have concurred, based on his own theory that the coordination in a monopoly in a vital industry such as oil could put an end to destructive competition. In any case, Kangxi apparently saw no contradiction between expanding the empire and centralizing some important sectors of the economy. Similarly, Mao saw no internal tension in collectivized consolidation on a large scale. As tempting centralization has been for Chinese dictators seeking increased control and thus power, government regulation of competitive markets is eminently better in empire-scale economies, not only of China, but the E.U., U.S., and Russia as well. 

1. David Barboza, “China Plans to Reduce the State’s Role in the Economy,” The New York Times, May 24, 2013.
2. Ibid.
3. Ibid.
4. Ibid.
5. Ibid.
6. Ibid.

Egyptian Court Overreached in Declaring a Legislature to be Unconstitutional

In 1803, the U.S. Supreme Court decided Madison v. Marbury, which established the authority of the court to declare a law to be unconstitutional, and thus invalid. A basic principle underlying this authority is that a constitution is on a level superior to a statute. An entity established in a constitution to interpret it can thus invalidate a law passed by another body established in the constitution. Invalidating that other body itself would be an entirely different matter, as it would involve one constitutional body dissolving another of equivalent grounding.

Accordingly, the constitutional court in Egypt overreached on June 14, 2012 in declaring the parliament dissolved. To treat a legislative body as akin to a law established by such a body evinces a category mistake with respect to level. Whereas a law is subject to decisions by governmental bodies, the latter themselves are subject to constitutional amendment rather than governmental action (including that of the judicial branch of government). General speaking, basic law such that creates governmental bodies (whether in constitutional language or not) trumps that which is created by those bodies. Put another way, a court must take the existence of the extant government institutions as a given.

By loose analogy, the Egyptian court was treating a sibling as if it were an offspring. Whereas brothers and sisters of the same generation are “on the same level,” their kids are on another level. One does not treat one’s brother and nephew similarly. So too, sibling governmental institutions should not treat each other as if they were that which they produce.

The judicial breach in Egypt was particularly suspect because the justices had been appointed by Mubarak, whose last prime minister was running for president against the candidate of the opposition party, which dominated the parliament as a result of a democratic election. Fittingly, that party disputed the court’s ruling and its authority to dissolve the legislature. Saad el Katatni, the Parliament’s majority leader, accused the military-led government of orchestrating the ruling. Although it was politically suspect and thus not credibly judicial, my point is that for the justices even to have thought that a court could dissolve another governmental body points to a basic ignorance concerning the difference between a constitution, governmental institutions, and laws.

A constitution (or basic law) creates and thus is superior to governmental bodies, which in turn make, execute or interpret (and thus are superior to) laws. That this basic hierarchy was somehow lost on the Egyptian justices suggests a basic incompetence that nullifies the court’s decision as that of a constitutional court. In other words, the decision can be interpreted as a coup rather than a judicial ruling merely on account of the ignorance. The error is that glaring, and yet somehow the jurists presented the ruling as legitimate nonetheless.

Faced with the real likelihood that the nescient democracy was being snuffed out by the partisan power-play made under judicial auspices, Egyptian citizens of all stripes had to decide whether to put a democratic Egypt above even partisan advantage. I suppose the matter of democracy in an autocratic context depends ultimately on how badly the body politic wants political self-determination, for the forces that are dominant in the status quo do not just go softly into the night. Rather, they have to be shown the door more than once, until they finally get the message.

Source:

David Kirkpatrick, “Forces Surround Parliament in Egypt,Escalating Tensions,” The New York Times, June 15, 2012. 

Occupying Wall Street: A Self-Regulated Protest?

The right to protest as a manifestation of freedom of speech is held societally as sacred the United States, but the question of how far protest goes before it becomes simply living in a park is one of those gray areas that tend to be decided by the judiciary far from the tarps and sleeping bags. The protesters’ premise that living in a public space eventuates in the achievement of their goals is tenuous where the goals are broad. Undergoing a hunger strike to get a certain anti-corruption bill voted on by India’s parliament is far different than camping out in Zuccotti Park in New York City until corporate capitalism is ended in the U.S. In short, the tactics used should be oriented to the sort of objective being sought. Moreover, the tactics and indeed the objectives themselves require a protest group to self-police such that it does not wander too far off course or spread itself too thin. Protest movements may be too prone to die a slow death from self-inflicted wounds without even the slightest recognition of the cause of death. The Occupy Wall Street protest movement had the capacity to self-regulate, but fell well short of that which was necessary for the group to achieve its anti-corporate goals.

To be sure, the movement evinced some capacity to regulate itself. Faced with the prospect of an imminent clean-up of Zuccotti Park—perhaps a salubrious subterfuge actually geared to permanently dislodging the park’s new residents—some of the protesters scurried around “with brooms and trash bags, moving mountains of sleeping bags, backpacks and jackets out of the way,” according to The New York Times. Meanwhile, others gardened. These tasks doubtlessly tapped into the young protesters’ ideal of working toward something larger than themselves, which they tend to label as “community.”  The impetus on the upkeep was geared to forestalling the park’s owner, Brookfield Properties, from clearing the park a third at a time for a “once-over” by a clean-up crew, after which new rules proscribing camping, tents, tarps and sleeping bags would be enforced. But was it even in the group’s interest to allow camping to become a major issue? Secondly, could the energy of self-regulation have been put to better uses than clean up, given the group’s anti-corporate goals?

Taking the first question first, it should be obvious that occupying a park is not occupying Wall Street. If the protesters were serious on their occupation, they would have sat own in streets in New York’s financial district and blockaded the bank entrances with sit-downs—perhaps even occupying bank lobbies akin to the anti-war protest at Columbia University in 1968. This “actual occupation” strategy would have been more likely to involve the police, but the occupation would have been real—at least for a time. This strategy is distinct from protest marches, which as a strategy could have been an alternative or addition to that of actual occupation of the streets and banks. Allowing the issue to be whether camping takes place in a park can thus be seen as a diversion that is not in the protester’s own interest. Indeed, getting sick by living in a crowded park night after night would also enervate the protest (besides justify the public authorities in clearing the park for public health reasons).

Regarding the second question, the self-regulation evinced by the protesters cleaning up on their own volition can be read as supporting the argument that the protest movement could have policed itself regarding delimiting its topic and presenting a positive image for public relations purposes. Protesters could have volunteered, for example, to make the rounds to eliminate any off-topic signs, such as those for the environment and against the war in Afghanistan. Allowing the protest to be a virtual grab-bag of leftist causes deprived the movement of broader support and gave the opposition ammunition with which to relegate the movement. Even in shifting from an anti-big-corporation message to redistribution undercuts the group’s original anti-corporate (but not necessarily redistributive) goals.

Butting up against the movement’s own efforts to regulate itself was the ideology or illusion that the movement had no leaders. “Every action you see here is autonomous,” one protester said as he was filling plastic bags with trash. “Autonomous enough for people not to be doing it,” another protester added, as reported by The New York Times. That protester went on to describe his “autonomous plan” as if that label itself, and his belief in it, rather than a single-minded aim of ridding American society of large corporations were the main point of him being there.

In other words, the protesters themselves suffered from a lack of priorities and this hurt the attainment of their original anti-corporate goals. Even though the voluntary clean-up effort demonstrates that the movement was capable of self-regulation to delimit and protect the priority of its original, anti-corporate goals, the refusal to delimit the topics (based on the illusion that there were no leaders) and keep the distracting ideologies at bay undercut the group’s self-regulatory potential and ultimately the group’s realization of its anti-corporate goals. Indeed, their lip-service to the contrary, many of the protesters may not have been sufficiently interested in those goals in the first place.

In a letter to the local police commissioner, the chief executive of the property company that owns Zuccotti Park reported that there had been neighborhood complaints of “lewdness, groping, drinking and drug use.” Without self-policing such behavior, the movement risked undercutting its own legitimacy in the eyes of the wider public. Without legitimacy, the movement would face an uphill battle even to be heard. Furthermore, the behavior could be viewed as having an opportunity cost—that of the foregone focus on how to achieve the anti-corporate aims of the movement. Actions speak louder than words; from my vantage-point, it seems that the protesters could have been more devoted to the cause that presumably brought them to Zuccotti Park.

So while it might be fun for young people to relish their “autonomous plans,” get high and camp out with other like-minded people in the zest of life, the refusal of the group to self-regulate itself may have been the seed of the group’s eventual dissolution without the movement having attained its goals—whatever those happened to be. It is an interesting question whether an aggregate of "autonomous plans" can regulate a movement without even a leader as a spokesperson. But why risk "the cause" to find out?

Every group must necessarily have leaders. Whether centralized or decentralized, leadership is part of any organization. Whether accountable or stealth, leadership is there, and whether as spokespersons or committees, leadership is also there. To eschew mechanisms like majority rule and group decision-making so that every person can feel fully autonomous is not only antithetical to there even being a group, it is also at odds with the realization of the movement’s goals, which presumably are necessary means to the greater autonomy being sought outside of a city park.

In short, the protesters undercut themselves from the get-go by wanting too much both ways. They refused to self-regulate their ideology. They would hate reading this, but I suspect that a crucial error of the movement early-on was to give young people too great a role in, yes, running it. Even forestalling necessary decision-making at the group level constitutes a default-decision. In a way, to eschew any leadership at all evinces a puerile or jejune mentality of stubbornness at the expense of one's goal of reducing the impediments to greater economic liberty. This mentality may also have manifested in the failure of the young in the movement to defer to more seasoned leaders. We can do it better ourselves this time and we want it both ways. We don't want ANY limitations. To this mentality, I echo Burl Ives as the snowman narrator of Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer, where he shakes his white head of snow, smiles, and says almost fatalistically, Ah, youth.

In Homer's story of the Trojan War, Achilles' youthful exuberance defers quite uncomfortably to the experience of King Agamemnon; a war led solely by youthful passion would be a mere series of battles. In Lawrence of Arabia, Alec Guinness as King Faisal tells Peter O'Toole as Lawrence to leave the room so the British and Arab leaders can negotiate on Damascus. Some things must be left to old men, the king teaches the youthful warrior with a credible tone of fatalism at the expense of volition. Successful youth are mature and humble enough to know they can't do it all themselves. Successful leaders can then tap into youthful passion and direct it strategically.

Had the Occupy Wall Street movement self-regulated itself beyond cleaning up the park, the group could have enforced and sustained sufficient focus (and thus energy) on the original anti-corporation goals, wherein corporations no longer own Congress and the largest banks and corporations are broken up because of their systemic risk to the financial system, the economy, and representative democracy. The opportunity cost in broadening the movement is sad, particularly as theTea Party could have readily agreed to protest against big business and the banks. That leftist causes, even that of redistribution, were allowed to join the movement out of sheer ideological convenience and an immature refusal to admit the necessity of leadership demonstrates that the self-regulation evinced in the clean-up of the city park did not go nearly far enough for the movement's own good, and that of the republic for which we stand united for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

Source:

Anemona Hartocollis, “Tidying UP, Pre-emptively, But Showdown May Loom,” The New York Times, October 14, 2011. 

See related essays: "Occupying Wall Street" and "Political Protest 101" and "Police Against Protesters: Sadism or Politics"