Except, of course, that it simply doesn't work that way. Aside from the fact that not all human decisions are based on self-interest, let alone on rational thought, correct application of the Rational Choice model means minimizing any and all barriers to the individual's ability to maximize wealth, which means dismantling any and all regulatory apparatus, which in turn leads to the monopolization of market share by whatever entity was largest at the start of deregulation, the degradation of local environments for the sake of global wealth maximization, and the creation of a passive, homogenous underclass whose potential to maximize wealth is significantly inhibited by those individuals whose potential was greater to begin with--which, of course, may well be the unstated, Malthusian goal of Rational Choice model. Perhaps the most significant mechanism currently in use by proponents of economic privatization is the suppression of public dialogue concerning its goals and beneficiaries, usually by invoking pseudoscientific theories of economic determinism--a tactic that should seem truly odious to anyone in favor of a society guided by the principles of open, democratic debate. The central rhetorical model of privatization advocates, (examples of which can be found on the op-ed page of any newspaper) is the aggressive, neo-realist polemic, devoid of any mention of opposing argument other than the offhand characterization of those groups seeking a more open dialogue as frivolous and unrealistic. The poetic equivalent of this sort of strategy is the gushing, often nonsensical review of a book of poetry meant to advertise the books of one's friends and apprentices (examples of which can be found blurbing the back of most any book of poetry published in the last 40 years or so). While authentically critical prose about poetry still has a home in a few of the more prickly journals, the practice of critical nepotism is by far more widespread. Unfortunately, this sort of boosterism dominates contemporary poetic dialogue because it represents one of the simplest ways to establish one's career; following the Rational Choice model, the benefit of scratching the back of someone who may be able to help you get your own book published somewhere down the road far outweighs the cost to poetry in general of perpetuating the nepotistic system.

Since individual self-interest tends to focus on short term goals at the expense of the long-term health of local communities, the perpetuation of the sort of careerism described above has led to the degradation of local poetic environments. One common charge levied against MFA programs is that they are invariably provincial, cloisters where more or less established poets can perpetuate their own poetic agendas via a series of bright-eyed novitiates. Such a charge is somewhat deceptive, since the number of agendas is actually very few, and the disseminators many--a few hours stroll through a dozen or so poetry journals is enough to convince even the casual reader that a very limited number of aesthetic principles dominate contemporary poetic expression, led by the kind of mainstream model described by Jonathan Holden as "a cultivated attempt to imitate spontaneous vision, to produce through carefully muted craft the illusion of urgency,” a formula that has since been sardonically (and perhaps too famously) reduced to: "Here I am / Standing at my kitchen window, / And I am important." Jorie Graham, among others, has responded to the charge of provincialism by insisting that "We've replaced a sense of aesthetic movements with certain enclaves where the necessary cross-pollination takes place under the universities' auspices,” but her attempt at celebrating the supposedly regional (though cross-pollinated) character of these poetic enclaves also mimics one of the central arguments of privatization: releasing local businesses from regulation allows them greater access to creativity and innovation, which makes them more able to compete with larger concerns and so helps local communities retain their distinctive flavor. Anyone living in a small town can tell you how ridiculous this argument seems while standing in the parking lot one of the Big Box retailers or fast food chains that have squashed local businesses because their very enormity allows them to sell goods more cheaply in order to drive out competition. What is offered by most MFA programs, then, is the illusion of choice: whether you ally yourself to the Neo-Formalists or the Shamanistic school, your successful career depends on adhering to the notion that a poem is an artifact, an artistic object whose role is to exist in dialogue with other poems and with the tradition, as Eliot so famously codified it. The poetic environment--those thematic and rhetorical resources on which we draw to create objects of value--has become degraded precisely because of such formulations as the canon, since most contemporary poetic dialogue is directed toward the goal of creating a product or, more correctly, a product line or ‘brand’, the corporate equivalent of the contemporary poetic ‘voice’, that will allow us to either join those figures already seated in the Valhalla of poetic heroes, to break down the door and valorize new heroes, or at least win us a spot in the Norton Anthology of Poetry.