We are developing the social individualist meta-context for the future. From the very serious to the extremely frivolous... lets see what is on the mind of the Samizdata people.

Samizdata, derived from Samizdat /n. - a system of clandestine publication of banned literature in the USSR [Russ.,= self-publishing house]

Another great drinking invention

In my quest for unearthing new clever ideas on how to slake one’s thirst, it seems an inventor has cracked the problem of how to drink a mug of tea or coffee and chew on a biscuit at the same time while using only one hand. This could prove a handy invention for Brian Micklethwait’s end-of-the-month Friday libertarian get-togethers where drink and biscuits are consumed in vast quantities. Could such a nifty idea ever get the nod in a socialist state?

France is the root of all evil

And, no, this isn’t just my muscular, traditional British chauvinism. France gets a thorough ‘Fisking’ and from a Frenchman no less!

J.P. Zmirak cuts right through the bull to remind us that the the ‘glorious’ French Revolution was anything but:

“That little thought experiment should give you an idea of what the French Revolution was really like – a digestive eruption of all the basest instincts in the lowest elements of society, led by power-drunk ideologues of the radical Left.”

The writer also goes on to point out that French Revolution had nothing whatsoever in common with the American Revolution, despite the two events so often lumped in with each other, and was driven by a wholly different impulse:

“It was utterly unlike the American rebellion against the English colonial officials – which amounted to a regional secession, led by the responsible members of the upper middle class. And for that fact we should be forever grateful – as should other countries which emulated the American model of political reform, rather than the French.”

He also goes on to lay the blame for so much future barbarity squarely upon the shoulders of those French leftist jackasses:

“At the heart of this exquisite movie is the relationship between Grace and the Duc d’Orleans. The latter is a pampered, ambitious, not very bright cousin to the tragic King Louis XVI, a Duke who throws his weight and wealth behind the Revolutionaries, in the hope that they will place him on the throne. He spouts, and no doubt believes, the new rhetoric of hysterical, xenophobic revolutionary patriotism – which would soon spread to Germany and Italy, planting the seeds of both the Nazi and Fascist movements.”

The whole article is written with the kind of florid anger born of pain and profound regret. It rings out a warning of the depravity and destruction which results from letting the bad guys get their way.

Do you like Quindlen? I don’t know, I’ve never Quindled

Imagine life at the Quindlen household. Say they are pondering what to make for breakfast on a leisurely Sunday morning … someone suggests pancakes, while Anna retorts that “it is impossible to believe that anyone who does not want waffles has a proper sense of our place in history.” This is Anna Quindlen’s M.O. — she takes her own (often perfectly reasonable) prejudices / preferences on a given subject and elevates them to the level of an absolute moral imperative. Just as OxBlog proposes the four laws of Maureen Dowd, we can isolate the First Law of Quindlen: There is no need to provide evidence for my argument, because it is impossible to believe that you could disagree with me.

Anna thinks that we ought to turn the remains of the WTC site into an austere memorial instead of entertaining designs for new commercial real estate. “The demands of democracy should not be confused with those of capitalism,” she solemnly intones. And you didn’t even know that you were confused! Why the institute of democracy “demands” that this particular corner of southwest Manhattan remain eternally undeveloped, Ms. Quindlen never quite gets around to explaining, except by offering the official post-911 cliche: otherwise, the terrorists will have won.

Japan rebuilt Nagasaki and Hiroshima. The Germans rebuilt Dresden. The United States reconstructed Atlanta. (Which reminds me — wasn’t the Civil War, not Vietnam, the most corrosive war in US history? Or did US history begin on the day Anna Quindlen was born?) Why do we rebuild our war wounds? As the anti-Quindlen, Virginia Postrel, would put it, because we are a dynamic society, with the few stasists like Quindlen serving as the exceptions that prove the rule. Most of us do not believe that we have already achieved all the greatness we will ever claim. Or as Oscar Wilde said, “we’re all of us in the gutter, but some of us are looking up at the stars.”

There is nothing inherently wrong with what Anna Quindlen is proposing, but there is something wrong with her insistence that her vision is the only one that passes muster from an ethical perspective. If she wants the space to remain vacant, then she ought to organize a consortium of like-minded individuals to purchase the vacant land, and leave it perfectly barren, or erect some weird new age memorial with nondenominational angels playing Enya music on their harps, or whatever floats her boat. Until she is willing to take such action, however, her opinion of what ought to go on the WTC site counts no more than mine, which is to say, not in the slightest.

Now, if Anna Quindlen really wanted to do something nice for Manhattan, I can think of about eight blocks of choice midtown real estate, right there on the East River, that developers would love to get their hands on. That’s right, the US could hand the United Nations an eviction notice and sell the property to the highest bidder. If, by even suggesting this, it proves that I have no sense of America’s place in history, well, I guess in Anna’s world I am already guilty as charged.

The devil is an equal opportunities employer

Many apologies but it is late here in England and I am too tired to spend hours trawling through our archive with a view to digging out all the previous postings about the link between welfare and terrorism. However, I do distinctly recall that the general theme was that it is far easier to recruit young men for terror attacks and guerilla wars when they are poor and under-utilised recipients of state largesse.

Now I am only too aware of the profound mischief and hazard produced by state serfdom but if this report in the US News about American Jihadis is anything to go by, then perhaps the phenomenon needs further examination (or, at least, revisiting):

“Fifteen thousand feet high in Kashmir and armed with a Kalashnikov–that was not how friends thought Jibreel al-Amreekee would end up. All of 19, the restless kid from Atlanta had grown up in a wealthy family attending Ebenezer Baptist Church, the home pulpit of Martin Luther King Jr. A soft-spoken youth with long dreadlocks, al-Amreekee had a passion for sky diving and reading books on the world’s religions.”

Clearly this young man (along with several others described in the article) was not the product of a broken home, a deprived slum or welfare benefits. It follows, then, that the welfare-terrorism link is rather too glib. Rich kids go crazy as well.

[Link courtesy of Pejman Pundit ]

Optimism, Royalty, Europe…

Why the caution David? Because if they do start chucking H-bombs about the subcontinent I don’t want to add a feeling of extreme foolishness to all my other unhappinesses. It reminds me of yet another P.G. Wodehouse quote, where Bertie Wooster (I think) notes the occurrence of some ghastly modern practice or other and says something to the effect that if it catches on Western Civilisation will collapse. “And then what a lot of silly asses we should all look.” I love that.

Changing the subject, to all this royal stuff that’s going on just now (which you also mentioned in another post, David), I find myself noting the emotions that millions of my fellow countrymen now seem to feel, of fondness for their stubbornly traditional country and its stubbornly traditional head-of-state arrangements, but not sharing them. I’m a puritan. I think constitutions should describe the realities of power, not surround reality in an aerosol spray-canned mist of sentimental heritage flummery, which was once the real system but which is now just a fading memory. I’d like to live in a country where the official story of how we are governed approximates to reality.

It is said that Royalty confers respectability upon the sordid manoeuvres of politics. Exactly. That is precisely my objection to it. Let the sordid reality of politics be looked in the face, not funked. And then, you never know, people might just be persuaded to change it for the better. I don’t think that our Monarchy is better than the predations of democracy; I think it protects them. (Hans-Hermann Hoppe argues for the reality of Monarchy, not the shadow of it as we now have.)

However, there is the matter of Europe. The Europe issue is real. Royalty is just an argument about interior decor by comparison. If I have to choose between Britain becoming a sordidly real province of the European Union, and remaining a sentimentally heritaged flummery in a state of at least some political detachment from that Union, then I go with the flummery.

I summarise my objection to Britain’s “membership” of the European Union with one question: What British problems will it solve? Only career problems among the elite, it seems to me. With luck, some of them will get to run what they fondly hope will become a superpower to rival the USA. No more grovelling to Uncle Sam. No other problems will be solved that I can think of. What problems might British membership of the EU cause? Infinite. As some clever French conservative (identificatory emails welcome) once said: “When it is not necessary to change, it is necessary not to change.”

That’s how the Royals always do it. They quietly allow themselves to become identified with whatever in the country is being complained about, and all the complainers forget about any flummery objections they might have had (and in this case there were damn few complainers to start with).

The Conservative Party is finally making a difference to all this. It is keeping its hated mouth tight shut. This is helping. An anti-Blairite atmosphere may now finally be coalescing, and the Conservatives must wait in silence, and let it grow.

(I’m right now watching the Falklands Play, and I’m taping it too. Very interesting.)

A hit on Hutton Many

Many of you will never have heard of Will Hutton and for those that haven’t, this little introduction is necessary.

Mr.Hutton is pure Enemy Class. Ostensibly a journalist he has also headed up or contributed to various lefty think-tanks. He was quite influential in the formation of the New Labour project and, like all such people, he is a fanatical Federast who has adopted an ‘Animal Farm’ mindset of ‘America bad, Europe good’. Every now and then he pops up on British TV to excoriate people who are reluctant to pay higher taxes. He sneers so much that one could be forgiven for thinking that his top lip has been surgically attached to the bottom of his nose.

He is ripe for a ‘fisking’ by a higher organism such as James C. Bennett

“As a result of these moves, and the increasing prosperity of Britain in general, the island now enjoys booming do-it-yourself stores (so reminiscent of American ones, no doubt to Hutton’s disgust) and popular television programs such as “Changing Rooms” (whose American knockoff, “Trading Spaces,” is also popular on the other side of the Atlantic.)

The most interesting thing about “Changing Rooms” is the 500-pound limit on expenditure for the domestic makeover. This is not some Martha Stewart upper-middle-class consumption extravaganza. Rather, it is the application of ingenuity to ordinary people’s spaces, and conveys the message of what can be done by individual homeowners to bring delight to their own property.

Undoubtedly Hutton would rather they spend their time petitioning the local council to repair the window, as they used to. This would end their socio-politico isolation and selfish indulgence, so un-European. In Hutton’s mind, it seems, private housing is only one step from private car ownership, private gun ownership, and Columbine massacres”.

It is worth your while reading the whole thing. Not only does it skewer Hutton but it does so much else to clarify the difference between ‘them’ and ‘us’.

A word of caution

I wonder why it is that my dear friend Brian Micklethwait describes me as pessimist? Not only does he describe me as a pessimist but he also considers it to be a defining characteristic by the inclusion of the word ‘usual’.

It mystifies me somewhat because I do not consider myself to be a pessimist. I did not say that there will be nuclear war in South Asia, I merely assert that there might be. Does that make me a pessimist? Maybe it does. In which case, how do I become an optimist? By asserting that there cannot possibly be a nuclear war in South Asia? It strikes me that optimism along those lines is the same as daring the whole world not to disappoint you. Perhaps that is what I should do.

Still, I note that Brian describes himself as ‘(cautiously) optimistic’, a term which begs the question: why the ‘caution’?

A reason to be cheerful

David Carr is his usual pessimistic self concerning the possibility of nuclear war between Pakistan and India. I am my usual (cautiously) optimistic self. As I said to David face-to-face over the weekend, and as he said I should stick up here, there is one huge difference between nuclear weapons and the previous sort. Nuclear weapons can kill Presidents, Prime Ministers and Generals, as well as the lower ranks. Would World Wars One and Two have proceeded as they did if, every time you (one of the grand fromages) launched your Grand Offensive from the safety of your French Chateau or your German or British or Russian command bunker, there was a one in five chance that you personally would die a horrible death. Would the Cold War have remained throughout its duration so cold without nuclear weapons concentrating the minds of the Great People?

Now revolution comes with a price tag

The Kalashnikov. The AK-47. The weapon of choice for every communist insurgent and marxist regime in the world. Not just because it was simple, sturdy and effective but also because it was produced by the horny-hands of comrade workers in the Soviet Union and so untainted by decadent and exploitative Western capitalism. Its symbolism was, perhaps, just as important as its stopping power.

But that’s all over now

“A two-year legal dispute between Russian companies for the copyright of the world-famous Kalashnikov assault rifle has been won by its original producer in the Urals.”

Ironies don’t come thicker than this; the gun that was supposed to blow away people who believed in property rights and profit will, henceforth, be produced under the mantle of both. Yes, the sinister and fearsome Kalashnikov has been co-opted into the Great Capitalist Project. If Che Guevarra were alive now, he’d be spinning in his grave!

Filleting Fukuyama

Lowell Ponte over on Front Page has written a superb retort to Frances Fukuyama’s latest collectivist cri de coeur ‘Our Posthuman Future: Consequences of the Biotechnology Revolution’. Although critiquing Fukuyama is sometimes a bit like shooting fish in a barrel (Instapundit frequently makes sport of him on slow news days), Ponte does a very good job at pointing out the horrendous implications of Fukuyama’s line of thought

Who owns your body? In Fukuyama’s implicit view, the government does because “you” are merely a cog transmitting your DNA on to the collective of future generations whose rights are superior to yours. You should have no right to tamper with your own mind or body via drugs or with your heredity by cloning yourself or altering your own DNA.
[…]
Fukuyama likes big government, especially when it grabs people by the short-and-curlies and prohibits them from using science to alter reproductive DNA. “Libertarian advocates of genetic choice want the freedom to improve their children,” wrote Fukuyama, “But do we really know what it means to improve a child?” (“I am guessing,” riposted Libertarian David Dieteman, “that Johns Hopkins, where Fukuyama is a professor, does not include this query with its tuition bills to parents.”)

This is terrific stuff and I strongly commend the whole article to anyone who holds to quaint notions of self-ownership as I do. Fukuyama and his ilk are not just misguided, they are the intellectual cheerleaders for a totalitarianism of the most profound kind… they would have the state lay claim to the very molecular structure of your body.

As John Stuart Mill wrote in 1859, “Over himself, over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign”. Well not if Frances Fukuyama has his way.

Prams, UK Transport and the Monarchy (All Human Life Is Here.)

  • Prams versus pushchairs. I know I was meant to dispense my maternal wisdom earlier, Brian, but I was caught up in dispensing a few maternal whacks round the head. (Only joking M’lud.) There is a fixed quantity of attention available to children or indeed adults. 1,440 minutes per day, less sleep time. That’s why someone-or-other called attention the final currency. It’s like land. They aren’t making any more. That said, we are all using so little of the potentially available attention supply that depriving a kiddie of seeing mama’s face for the time spent in the pushchair is insignificant, and may as you say be outweighed by the benefits of seeing the world. Pity one has to strap them in though. Gets ’em entirely too accepting of safety belts.

    This goes the same way as arguments about population and productivity. The Club of Rome deserve our mockery for saying that space / food / oil whatever will run out by 1980. Of course there’s loads more good stuff being created by busy capitalist hands all the time. Eventually, however, the limits to growth doomsayers have a point. And relying on the invention of interstellar travel sometime in the late 2200s does not fully satisfy me as an insurance policy.

  • UK Transport. With this Illuminated blog, it’s not how many readers, it’s who reads. Real journalists will go there to research stories, if they are wise.
  • A plug if I may, for my own take on His Majesty King Brendan over at my blog.

The exquisite arm of the law

Ex-Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev is a happy puppy. The new Miss Universe is Oxana Fedorova, a policewoman from St.Petersburg in Russia… now I am off to that historic city to see if I can get arrested.