originally posted by John
Differences between initialisms and acronyms are likely to be apparent only to students of the more recondite reaches of lexicography. At least that’s what I thought until a day or two ago. Now I’m not so sure. Now I have an idea forming in which acronyms are tools of the powerful, used to manipulate hierarchical trust, for good or ill, while initialisms are merely trust-neutral onlookers.
Acronyms are shorthand for something beyond themselves. They are walled-off territories and, in themselves, not (necessarily) threatening. Though, of course, they can be. They have owners who not only own the acronym itself but, and here’s where the power lies, they own all its walled-in knowledge and its connotations. And since ownership determines context, use of the acronym is always what the owners decide it is. Thus, when someone talks of WMD, DU, and now, WP, everyone knows they mean what the Pentagon says and not necessarily weapons of mass destruction, depleted uranium or white phosphorus. Likewise, DEFRA (an acronym in initialism’s clothing if ever there was one) owns FMD, as opposed to foot and mouth disease. (POSIWID is an initialism. And a pretty wonderful one it is too given its capacity to get to a meaningful reality and expose nonsense for what it is.) So, I contend, an acronym’s POSIWID is the reinforcement of power.
Two recent bits of reading gave rise to this idea. The first came about after an email chat with Richard reminded me of a long-ago talk by J K Galbraith. (I searched out the transcript, it’s called The Economics of Deprivation: How To Get The Poor Off Our Minds. Community Care Fifth Annual Lecture, London, 24 January 1989.) I interrupted the second bit of reading to check the Galbraith stuff and, reading it, decided that how we get the poor off our minds today is by turning them into acronyms.
What I was reading that led me to this conclusion was a piece by Helen Epstein, a writer on AIDS. Telling the story of the political mileage that President Bush has got, and still gets, out of AIDS by ‘promising’ $15bn in 2003, Epstein uses some of the most appalling acronyms imaginable.
While purporting to help OVCs, orphans and vulnerable children, PEPFAR, the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief, spends most of its money in the US on development agency bureaucrats, consultants, medical expert workshops and funding anti-condom evangelists. Very little money reaches the OVCs, of whom there are some 12 million. Every cent of it that does, like all US aid, comes with tugs (I was going to write yanks but bravely forewent the pun) at the strings of power trust.
When I formulated, somewhat tongue-in-cheek, the version of Smith’s First Law that says The World Bank gets more out of poverty than poverty gets out of The World Bank, I based it on experiences in Africa a decade or more ago. I had hoped that things had moved on, but no: PEPFAR needs OVCs more than OVCs need PEPFAR, far more. That’s clear.
What’s even clearer to me is that power flows out the end of an acronym.
Reference: The Lost Children of AIDS, Helen Epstein, NY Review of Books, 3 Nov 2005, page 41.
Showing posts with label John. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John. Show all posts
Friday, November 18, 2005
Friday, October 21, 2005
Overstepping bounds
originally posted by John
Richard's blog Double Bluff raises, as he says, some interesting questions about the boundaries of trust. And while the topic of his blog, the technology of warfare, is of concern to us in these times of terror and insurgency, the boundaries of trust are all the while being eroded in many other aspects of our lives. And in pharmaceuticals, just as in war, transgressions of trust come back to bite us. Sometimes quite savagely.
In the west the bodies responsible for clinical testing define a discrete trust space in which tests must be carried out. The nature and aims of the test, the statistical methodology, control mechanism and review processes must all be made clear. The consent of those taking part must be fully 'informed'. There must be no coercion to take part, no 'undue' inducements to do so and no penalties for refusing to take part. Along with test-specific requirements, these, roughly, are the boundaries of the trust space for clinical tests in the west.
Needless to say the don't apply in the third world. Strange as it may seem (in trust terms at any rate if not in commercial terms) authorities in the west readily accept results of tests done in the third world when it comes to licencing drugs. So boundaries become meaningless when the mega rewards of getting a new drug accepted in the west are at stake.
In Kano, in northern Nigeria in 1996, in the middle of an epidemic of bacterial meningitis, Pfizer carried out a test on their new drug, Trovan. They used children with meningitis who were undergoing routine treatment. As a result in 1997 Trovan was approved by the US FDA (Food and Drugs Administration) but, oddly, not for use on children and not for epidemic meningitis. After less than two years' of highly profitable prescription, Pfizer removed Trovan from the market amidst reports that the drug produced 'hundreds of cases' of liver toxicity and 'several' deaths.
Third world tests, first world deaths. Drugs, like bombs, kill us just as readily as they defend us. The boundaries of trust are our only real protection.
See also: Marcia Angell's review of The Constant Gardener (NYReview, October 6th, 2005)
Richard's blog Double Bluff raises, as he says, some interesting questions about the boundaries of trust. And while the topic of his blog, the technology of warfare, is of concern to us in these times of terror and insurgency, the boundaries of trust are all the while being eroded in many other aspects of our lives. And in pharmaceuticals, just as in war, transgressions of trust come back to bite us. Sometimes quite savagely.
In the west the bodies responsible for clinical testing define a discrete trust space in which tests must be carried out. The nature and aims of the test, the statistical methodology, control mechanism and review processes must all be made clear. The consent of those taking part must be fully 'informed'. There must be no coercion to take part, no 'undue' inducements to do so and no penalties for refusing to take part. Along with test-specific requirements, these, roughly, are the boundaries of the trust space for clinical tests in the west.
Needless to say the don't apply in the third world. Strange as it may seem (in trust terms at any rate if not in commercial terms) authorities in the west readily accept results of tests done in the third world when it comes to licencing drugs. So boundaries become meaningless when the mega rewards of getting a new drug accepted in the west are at stake.
In Kano, in northern Nigeria in 1996, in the middle of an epidemic of bacterial meningitis, Pfizer carried out a test on their new drug, Trovan. They used children with meningitis who were undergoing routine treatment. As a result in 1997 Trovan was approved by the US FDA (Food and Drugs Administration) but, oddly, not for use on children and not for epidemic meningitis. After less than two years' of highly profitable prescription, Pfizer removed Trovan from the market amidst reports that the drug produced 'hundreds of cases' of liver toxicity and 'several' deaths.
Third world tests, first world deaths. Drugs, like bombs, kill us just as readily as they defend us. The boundaries of trust are our only real protection.
See also: Marcia Angell's review of The Constant Gardener (NYReview, October 6th, 2005)
Saturday, October 15, 2005
Killing trust
originally posted by John
In How Trust Works I describe the trust space in which thoughts get thought for us and in which we in turn get to think thoughts for others. The bleakest spot in the trust space is in the extreme bottom left corner. This is a place of constrained choice, imposed security needs and total publicness. As far away from anything resembling authentic trust that can be imagined.
I now know the name of this place. It is called Florida (prop Jeb Bush) as witnessed by:
“On October 1, 2005, Florida becomes a more dangerous place. That's when the Shoot First Law goes into effect, giving the people of Florida the right to use deadly force as a first resort when they feel threatened, even in a public place.” (From http://www.shootfirstlaw.org/)
In How Trust Works I describe the trust space in which thoughts get thought for us and in which we in turn get to think thoughts for others. The bleakest spot in the trust space is in the extreme bottom left corner. This is a place of constrained choice, imposed security needs and total publicness. As far away from anything resembling authentic trust that can be imagined.
I now know the name of this place. It is called Florida (prop Jeb Bush) as witnessed by:
“On October 1, 2005, Florida becomes a more dangerous place. That's when the Shoot First Law goes into effect, giving the people of Florida the right to use deadly force as a first resort when they feel threatened, even in a public place.” (From http://www.shootfirstlaw.org/)
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
How trust works
originally posted by John
‘Nobody can think a thought for me’ a clever bloke once observed, ‘just as nobody can wear my hat for me.’
Theoretically he’s right – clever people often are – but, practically, he’s about as wrong as he can get.
Every day other people think thoughts for us. Everyday we think thoughts for other people. If it wasn’t so - if we all suddenly had to start thinking for ourselves - our daily life would become very hard indeed. If we all started thinking for ourselves all the time, life would grind to a halt. Mere survival would become everything. Nothing would ever get done. All would be anarchy.
The magic ingredient that prevents anarchy and allows things to happen – the bit missing from the clever bloke’s observation above – is trust.
Trust makes the world go round. Everything we ever do we do is because of trust. From our most trivial acts to our most portentous, and from the absolutely personal to the earth-shatteringly global, trust is the very lubricant of life itself. If life were a computer, trust would be its irreducible machine code.
Whoever we are, whatever we’re doing, trust always allows us four possible reasons for everything we do:
As we’ll see later, these four reasons are just different aspects of trust. In trivial aspects of life their differences often blur. But when things get serious, when the stakes are high, the role of trust changes and the differences become vital. And whether we use them singly or jointly or whether we use bits and combinations from all of them to justify what we do, we use them all the time in everything we do.
So they’re pretty important. So important in fact that our entire lives take place in a space that is bounded by these four aspects of trust. We (Aidan and I in our book Trust and Mistrust) call this the trust space. Think of it as a square field and everything you do takes place in that field. At any time your precise whereabouts depend on two things: the thing you’re doing and why you’re doing it.
If you’re doing something because you’ve been told to do it then someone is thinking your thoughts for you and you might not be in the most favourable spot in the field. If you’re doing something because it’s what your group do, or you’re doing something out of a sense of duty, the same applies. The rule of the trust space is that there’s always a more favourable place, a better place to be than where you currently find yourself: a place where things work better, a place where more opportunities are revealed, a place where life itself is better. Not just for you but those you come into contact with. Moving towards that place simply requires tapping in to the way trust works.
The trust space is not a theoretical or hypothetical place. It is the true picture of how our lives work. It is the perfect world-view.
This is what it looks like in a little more detail when we’re in the middle of the field looking north.
The closer we move towards the horizon ahead of us the more we do things out of (perceived) personal choice. We call this dimension authentic trust. At the extreme left-hand end lies conformity (publicness) a place where we let all our personal choices be made for us – we let someone think our thoughts for us in other words. In doing so we give up our own thoughts. Moving towards the right-hand end our own thoughts begin to take precedence. Our choices, and the way we handle transactions with others, reflect more of our true selves as a result.
Behind us is the horizon reflecting our relationship with power. We call this hierarchical (power) trust. Moving towards this horizon we find ourselves doing things because we’re told doing so is in our best interest. The more we succumb to power the more constrained our freedom of choice becomes. Choices we make and the way we deal with other people reflect this.
To our left is the horizon reflecting how we feel about our sense of duty. The higher this sense then the fewer choices we find ourselves with. We call this commodity trust. In a perfect world we would be encouraged to look for answers to questions or solutions to problems anywhere and everywhere. In a world dominated by commodity trust decision-making is highly formalized. Only answers and solutions from this formalized set are permissible. This again is reflected in the way we do things and, by extension, into our relationships.
To our right, the final horizon reflects our needs to belong to a group. We call this need network trust. The greater our need for the security the group gives us then the more we derive our values from the group. The less our need for security the more our needs reflect our own thoughts. And we treat people accordingly.
In any given instance in our lives this is what the world looks like: our thoughts are being thought for us by those in power, by the groups we belong to, by our sense of duty and by our perceptions of what is expected of us and only rarely by our authentic selves. The way we conduct relationships and the way we undertake transactions with others reflect these thoughts. The rule – mentioned above – is that, when it comes to dealing with people in day-to-day relationships, there’s a better place forward and to the right of where we currently find ourselves in the trust space.
‘Nobody can think a thought for me’ a clever bloke once observed, ‘just as nobody can wear my hat for me.’
Theoretically he’s right – clever people often are – but, practically, he’s about as wrong as he can get.
Every day other people think thoughts for us. Everyday we think thoughts for other people. If it wasn’t so - if we all suddenly had to start thinking for ourselves - our daily life would become very hard indeed. If we all started thinking for ourselves all the time, life would grind to a halt. Mere survival would become everything. Nothing would ever get done. All would be anarchy.
The magic ingredient that prevents anarchy and allows things to happen – the bit missing from the clever bloke’s observation above – is trust.
Trust makes the world go round. Everything we ever do we do is because of trust. From our most trivial acts to our most portentous, and from the absolutely personal to the earth-shatteringly global, trust is the very lubricant of life itself. If life were a computer, trust would be its irreducible machine code.
Whoever we are, whatever we’re doing, trust always allows us four possible reasons for everything we do:
- we do things because we’re told they’re in our best interest (power)
- we do things because they’re the done thing in the group we belong to and belonging to the group is in our best interest (network)
- we do things out of a sense of duty or responsibility where not doing them might have consequences that are not in our best interests (commodity)
- we do things purely out of personal choice (authentic)
As we’ll see later, these four reasons are just different aspects of trust. In trivial aspects of life their differences often blur. But when things get serious, when the stakes are high, the role of trust changes and the differences become vital. And whether we use them singly or jointly or whether we use bits and combinations from all of them to justify what we do, we use them all the time in everything we do.
So they’re pretty important. So important in fact that our entire lives take place in a space that is bounded by these four aspects of trust. We (Aidan and I in our book Trust and Mistrust) call this the trust space. Think of it as a square field and everything you do takes place in that field. At any time your precise whereabouts depend on two things: the thing you’re doing and why you’re doing it.
If you’re doing something because you’ve been told to do it then someone is thinking your thoughts for you and you might not be in the most favourable spot in the field. If you’re doing something because it’s what your group do, or you’re doing something out of a sense of duty, the same applies. The rule of the trust space is that there’s always a more favourable place, a better place to be than where you currently find yourself: a place where things work better, a place where more opportunities are revealed, a place where life itself is better. Not just for you but those you come into contact with. Moving towards that place simply requires tapping in to the way trust works.
The trust space is not a theoretical or hypothetical place. It is the true picture of how our lives work. It is the perfect world-view.
This is what it looks like in a little more detail when we’re in the middle of the field looking north.
The closer we move towards the horizon ahead of us the more we do things out of (perceived) personal choice. We call this dimension authentic trust. At the extreme left-hand end lies conformity (publicness) a place where we let all our personal choices be made for us – we let someone think our thoughts for us in other words. In doing so we give up our own thoughts. Moving towards the right-hand end our own thoughts begin to take precedence. Our choices, and the way we handle transactions with others, reflect more of our true selves as a result.
Behind us is the horizon reflecting our relationship with power. We call this hierarchical (power) trust. Moving towards this horizon we find ourselves doing things because we’re told doing so is in our best interest. The more we succumb to power the more constrained our freedom of choice becomes. Choices we make and the way we deal with other people reflect this.
To our left is the horizon reflecting how we feel about our sense of duty. The higher this sense then the fewer choices we find ourselves with. We call this commodity trust. In a perfect world we would be encouraged to look for answers to questions or solutions to problems anywhere and everywhere. In a world dominated by commodity trust decision-making is highly formalized. Only answers and solutions from this formalized set are permissible. This again is reflected in the way we do things and, by extension, into our relationships.
To our right, the final horizon reflects our needs to belong to a group. We call this need network trust. The greater our need for the security the group gives us then the more we derive our values from the group. The less our need for security the more our needs reflect our own thoughts. And we treat people accordingly.
In any given instance in our lives this is what the world looks like: our thoughts are being thought for us by those in power, by the groups we belong to, by our sense of duty and by our perceptions of what is expected of us and only rarely by our authentic selves. The way we conduct relationships and the way we undertake transactions with others reflect these thoughts. The rule – mentioned above – is that, when it comes to dealing with people in day-to-day relationships, there’s a better place forward and to the right of where we currently find ourselves in the trust space.
Tuesday, June 7, 2005
A model of trust
originally posted by John
With its amazing, true-to-life 8bn light year wide cubic chunk of the universe available for research, the Virgo Consortium's Millennium Simulation could finally answer Religious America’s burning question: did dinosaurs really walk in the Garden of Eden with Adam and Eve? Creationists won’t like the answer any more than they like the simulation so they’ll just have to stick with their Microsoft version of the universe I suppose.
With its amazing, true-to-life 8bn light year wide cubic chunk of the universe available for research, the Virgo Consortium's Millennium Simulation could finally answer Religious America’s burning question: did dinosaurs really walk in the Garden of Eden with Adam and Eve? Creationists won’t like the answer any more than they like the simulation so they’ll just have to stick with their Microsoft version of the universe I suppose.
Wednesday, June 1, 2005
Trust tips
originally posted by John
As overworked clichés go, the tip of the iceberg is just the tip of the iceberg. Think of a topic, any topic, and the chances are that it’ll have an iceberg attached and its iceberg will have a tip. In terms of the trust space the tips of icebergs tend to congregate down towards the bottom left-hand corner where trust is highly conditional.
While the trust implications of clichés are fascinating and have kept me spellbound for more years than I care to remember, the trust implications of icebergs are quite something else. By definition they’re sinister, just as anything hidden is sinister. And the bigger the berg, the more sinister it is. The more sinister it is, the less the possibility of trust.
Some icebergs, although their precise extent is unknown, are nevertheless known to exist - the NHS computer system, Wembley Stadium, AIDS, climate change, WMD, ID cards, nuclear power stations, as I say, pick a topic – and the more we know of them, the less sinister they become.
Most sinister of all is the tip of the tip of an iceberg that we’re not even supposed to know about – the hint that something is happening that is so secret that even the merest knowledge of it compromises it. This particular tip of an iceberg costs US taxpayers $6bn a year simply to classify secrets - and the US government created 15 million secrets in 2004 alone. So that’s a six billion dollar industry, extending across forty-one agencies, classifying forty thousand secrets every day. Secrets that in their turn consume upwards of ten times that amount and generate ever more secrets in doing so.
Wow, some tip, some iceberg. Oh, and these figures - taken from a US Information Security Oversight Office report - do not include the CIA, the biggest iceberg in this ocean of secrecy, information on which, the report stated, ‘that agency classified’. How sinister might that iceberg be then?
As overworked clichés go, the tip of the iceberg is just the tip of the iceberg. Think of a topic, any topic, and the chances are that it’ll have an iceberg attached and its iceberg will have a tip. In terms of the trust space the tips of icebergs tend to congregate down towards the bottom left-hand corner where trust is highly conditional.
While the trust implications of clichés are fascinating and have kept me spellbound for more years than I care to remember, the trust implications of icebergs are quite something else. By definition they’re sinister, just as anything hidden is sinister. And the bigger the berg, the more sinister it is. The more sinister it is, the less the possibility of trust.
Some icebergs, although their precise extent is unknown, are nevertheless known to exist - the NHS computer system, Wembley Stadium, AIDS, climate change, WMD, ID cards, nuclear power stations, as I say, pick a topic – and the more we know of them, the less sinister they become.
Most sinister of all is the tip of the tip of an iceberg that we’re not even supposed to know about – the hint that something is happening that is so secret that even the merest knowledge of it compromises it. This particular tip of an iceberg costs US taxpayers $6bn a year simply to classify secrets - and the US government created 15 million secrets in 2004 alone. So that’s a six billion dollar industry, extending across forty-one agencies, classifying forty thousand secrets every day. Secrets that in their turn consume upwards of ten times that amount and generate ever more secrets in doing so.
Wow, some tip, some iceberg. Oh, and these figures - taken from a US Information Security Oversight Office report - do not include the CIA, the biggest iceberg in this ocean of secrecy, information on which, the report stated, ‘that agency classified’. How sinister might that iceberg be then?
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Surveillance of trust
originally posted by John
CCTV surveillance is entirely a trust issue. In fact it is an absence of trust issue.
Despite being publicness made manifest, it is presented to us as being of unarguable benefit. The message is that it is something with which we not only have a citizen’s duty to cooperate, but with which we should cooperate willingly and submissively, even enthusiastically if we have any sense at all of where our own best interests lie. Non-cooperation carries sanctions. In other words, surveillance constrains choice, it minimizes options and it imposes a frightening need for security. In which respect it closely resembles a religion or current US foreign policy.
Inauthentic, imposing high commodity trust, high network trust and high power trust, surveillance leaves us in a bleak corner of the trust space in which similar absurdities begin to look reasonable. It’s a dystopian place, where ASBOs live, where borders must be closed and communities gated against outsiders, a place where dog eats dog, a place of curfews and vigilante patrols. It’s a Final Solution place where undesirables must wear their IBM number tattoos. Where everyone must be made to carry a lifeful of show-on-demand biometrics wherever they go. And be barred from wearing hoods. Sadder yet, it’s a place where solutions mostly don’t work. In which respect too it closely resembles a religion or current US foreign policy.
Saddest of all, it seems to me, the ethos of surveillance is driving us back to the dark ages. Back to when a superstitious fear of an all-seeing, all-knowing, all-powerful deity was the preferred method of social control. Quite comforting it could be too for the line-toeing bourgeoisie. And surveillance promises that it could be that again. And, as with Rupert Brooke’s Fish, ‘dateless and deathless, blind and still, the intricate impulse works its will’ so with us and back we go.
Nowadays we generally don’t have to worry about an all-seeing almighty watching our every move. Reality TV lets us know how it must have been though.
CCTV surveillance is entirely a trust issue. In fact it is an absence of trust issue.
Despite being publicness made manifest, it is presented to us as being of unarguable benefit. The message is that it is something with which we not only have a citizen’s duty to cooperate, but with which we should cooperate willingly and submissively, even enthusiastically if we have any sense at all of where our own best interests lie. Non-cooperation carries sanctions. In other words, surveillance constrains choice, it minimizes options and it imposes a frightening need for security. In which respect it closely resembles a religion or current US foreign policy.
Inauthentic, imposing high commodity trust, high network trust and high power trust, surveillance leaves us in a bleak corner of the trust space in which similar absurdities begin to look reasonable. It’s a dystopian place, where ASBOs live, where borders must be closed and communities gated against outsiders, a place where dog eats dog, a place of curfews and vigilante patrols. It’s a Final Solution place where undesirables must wear their IBM number tattoos. Where everyone must be made to carry a lifeful of show-on-demand biometrics wherever they go. And be barred from wearing hoods. Sadder yet, it’s a place where solutions mostly don’t work. In which respect too it closely resembles a religion or current US foreign policy.
Saddest of all, it seems to me, the ethos of surveillance is driving us back to the dark ages. Back to when a superstitious fear of an all-seeing, all-knowing, all-powerful deity was the preferred method of social control. Quite comforting it could be too for the line-toeing bourgeoisie. And surveillance promises that it could be that again. And, as with Rupert Brooke’s Fish, ‘dateless and deathless, blind and still, the intricate impulse works its will’ so with us and back we go.
Nowadays we generally don’t have to worry about an all-seeing almighty watching our every move. Reality TV lets us know how it must have been though.
Saturday, March 26, 2005
For whom the dog-whistle blows
originally posted by John
Two years on, the legitimacy of the invasion of Iraq is still in dispute. The Attorney General squirms as the shakiness of his opinion is revealed. British troops are found guilty of prisoner abuse. The UK Home Secretary seeks lock-up powers based on the say-so of the secret police. In another part of the forest, a senior opposition politician is sacked for 'telling the truth'. An election looms, the dog-whistles are blowing all over the place and Richard's off-label trust model rules without question. But here, in my opinion, is the scariest manifestation of the dog-whistle to date:
The crucial lesson from Watergate was that presidents are not above the law. So we thought. But today government lawyers argue that the president is, in fact, above the law - that he can for instance order the torture of prisoners even though treaties and a federal law forbid it.
John Yoo, a former Justice Department official and professor at the University of California law school at Berkeley, maintains that the November 2004 election was a "referendum" on the torture issue: the people had spoken, and the debate is over.
In other words, an election in which the torture issue was not discussed has legitimized President Bush's right to order its use.
(Reference: More Than Fit to Print by Anthony Lewis, NY Review of Books, April 7th 2005)
Two years on, the legitimacy of the invasion of Iraq is still in dispute. The Attorney General squirms as the shakiness of his opinion is revealed. British troops are found guilty of prisoner abuse. The UK Home Secretary seeks lock-up powers based on the say-so of the secret police. In another part of the forest, a senior opposition politician is sacked for 'telling the truth'. An election looms, the dog-whistles are blowing all over the place and Richard's off-label trust model rules without question. But here, in my opinion, is the scariest manifestation of the dog-whistle to date:
The crucial lesson from Watergate was that presidents are not above the law. So we thought. But today government lawyers argue that the president is, in fact, above the law - that he can for instance order the torture of prisoners even though treaties and a federal law forbid it.
John Yoo, a former Justice Department official and professor at the University of California law school at Berkeley, maintains that the November 2004 election was a "referendum" on the torture issue: the people had spoken, and the debate is over.
In other words, an election in which the torture issue was not discussed has legitimized President Bush's right to order its use.
(Reference: More Than Fit to Print by Anthony Lewis, NY Review of Books, April 7th 2005)
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Off-label dog-whistles
originally posted by John
Richard’s blog on off-label trust rings lots of bells for me. None though, until I read it, rang in the context in which it is presented (my prescribed product of choice being Bushmills). In a pharmaceutical context, Richard writes, Off-Label refers to uses of drugs that are not approved by the regulators and cannot therefore be printed on the product label or officially promoted by the drug company.
In view of the current state of political play in pre-election Britain, paraphrasing that opening rings quite a revealing bell: In a political context, Dog-whistle refers to uses of issues that are not approved of in terms of civilized politics and cannot therefore be printed in the manifesto or officially promoted by a serious party.
This is powerful medicine in every sense. Within the trust space, the informal, in both cases, takes precedence over the formal, the implied over the expressed and the unknown over the known. It is ‘trust me’ trust of a pretty abusive strain.
In the US electoral context, the political hygiene that got Mr Bush a second term, stemmed directly from successfully manipulating just such off-label trust. Unsurprising then that it should be being copied here.
Unlike politics, hygiene, it needs to be said, may not be the best description of outcomes in the pharmaceutical context.
Richard’s blog on off-label trust rings lots of bells for me. None though, until I read it, rang in the context in which it is presented (my prescribed product of choice being Bushmills). In a pharmaceutical context, Richard writes, Off-Label refers to uses of drugs that are not approved by the regulators and cannot therefore be printed on the product label or officially promoted by the drug company.
In view of the current state of political play in pre-election Britain, paraphrasing that opening rings quite a revealing bell: In a political context, Dog-whistle refers to uses of issues that are not approved of in terms of civilized politics and cannot therefore be printed in the manifesto or officially promoted by a serious party.
This is powerful medicine in every sense. Within the trust space, the informal, in both cases, takes precedence over the formal, the implied over the expressed and the unknown over the known. It is ‘trust me’ trust of a pretty abusive strain.
In the US electoral context, the political hygiene that got Mr Bush a second term, stemmed directly from successfully manipulating just such off-label trust. Unsurprising then that it should be being copied here.
Unlike politics, hygiene, it needs to be said, may not be the best description of outcomes in the pharmaceutical context.
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
The empire strikes back
originally posted by John
Sic transit gloria Microsoft, I wrote, tongue only slightly in cheek, thus passes the glory of Microsoft. That fits in quite nicely with Richard’s ‘Can we trust software?’ blog, I thought. Then suddenly, I wasn’t so clever, I wasn’t smiling. I wasn’t typing, wasn’t emailing, wasn’t blogging. In fact I wasn’t doing anything except continually rebooting my machine. I lost count at fifteen times and finally resorted to a rescue disc.
In the same edition of Bruce Schneier’s monthly newsletter that Richard refers to I’d picked up on a piece entitled ‘Safe Personal Computing’. It begins, ‘I am regularly asked what average Internet users can do to ensure their security. My first answer is usually, “Nothing - you're screwed.”
Bruce then explains precisely why we’re screwed, before adding, ‘Browsing: Don't use Microsoft Internet Explorer, period.’ And, ‘I'm stuck using Microsoft Windows and Office, but I use Opera for Web browsing and Eudora for e-mail.’
‘Right’, I thought, ‘I’ll walk the walk with him.’ After all he’s a top guru on this sort of stuff so if it’s good enough for him, it’s got to be good enough for me. (A touch of commodity trust with a little authority and network aftertaste there, I think.)
A couple of hours later I’m browsing OK with Opera, my new default browser, and trying, with no success, to email with Eudora. Then I started writing that sic transit blog and suddenly all bets were off. Immoveable dialog boxes I’d never dreamed existed flashed threatening error messages across the screen terminating me. Word refused to save anything yet opened page after blank page for me. Nothing would work. Even my virus scanner invoked a terminal Winword error message (Winword!). It was as though the operating system had taken offence and was teaching me exactly who was boss. So, after fifteen-odd reboots and rejigs, I rescued the machine, sent Opera and Eudora back where they came from and restored all Bruce’s ‘never use this’ stuff. And total harmony reigns. Even Winword ignores my virus scanner now.
I’ve never trusted software, to answer Richard’s question, ever since I was in charge of a nominal ledger suite way back in the old ICL1902S days and the FD tried to make me punch the cards to make it give him the numbers he wanted. I still don’t. Even less now I’ve seen the empire striking back.
Sic transit gloria Microsoft, I wrote, tongue only slightly in cheek, thus passes the glory of Microsoft. That fits in quite nicely with Richard’s ‘Can we trust software?’ blog, I thought. Then suddenly, I wasn’t so clever, I wasn’t smiling. I wasn’t typing, wasn’t emailing, wasn’t blogging. In fact I wasn’t doing anything except continually rebooting my machine. I lost count at fifteen times and finally resorted to a rescue disc.
In the same edition of Bruce Schneier’s monthly newsletter that Richard refers to I’d picked up on a piece entitled ‘Safe Personal Computing’. It begins, ‘I am regularly asked what average Internet users can do to ensure their security. My first answer is usually, “Nothing - you're screwed.”
Bruce then explains precisely why we’re screwed, before adding, ‘Browsing: Don't use Microsoft Internet Explorer, period.’ And, ‘I'm stuck using Microsoft Windows and Office, but I use Opera for Web browsing and Eudora for e-mail.’
‘Right’, I thought, ‘I’ll walk the walk with him.’ After all he’s a top guru on this sort of stuff so if it’s good enough for him, it’s got to be good enough for me. (A touch of commodity trust with a little authority and network aftertaste there, I think.)
A couple of hours later I’m browsing OK with Opera, my new default browser, and trying, with no success, to email with Eudora. Then I started writing that sic transit blog and suddenly all bets were off. Immoveable dialog boxes I’d never dreamed existed flashed threatening error messages across the screen terminating me. Word refused to save anything yet opened page after blank page for me. Nothing would work. Even my virus scanner invoked a terminal Winword error message (Winword!). It was as though the operating system had taken offence and was teaching me exactly who was boss. So, after fifteen-odd reboots and rejigs, I rescued the machine, sent Opera and Eudora back where they came from and restored all Bruce’s ‘never use this’ stuff. And total harmony reigns. Even Winword ignores my virus scanner now.
I’ve never trusted software, to answer Richard’s question, ever since I was in charge of a nominal ledger suite way back in the old ICL1902S days and the FD tried to make me punch the cards to make it give him the numbers he wanted. I still don’t. Even less now I’ve seen the empire striking back.
Sic transit gloria Microsoft
originally posted by John in response to Feedback as Regulation
Suns set on empires in the end, Egyptian, Assyrian, Roman, Byzantine, British, the roll-call of yesterday’s elites still echoes down the years. And, much to their chagrin, giants have blind-spots where upstarts can sneak by them. Coca Cola begat Pepsi Cola. Xerox begat GUIs. NCR begat IBM. And IBM, at the height of its hubris, dismissing the power of the ‘bunch’ – Burroughs, Univac, NCR, Control Data and Honeywell, giants in their own rights whose total gross revenues Big Blue’s net profit regularly exceeded – begat Microsoft. And, as far as I can see, the answer to Richard’s question ‘Is there really an Authority anywhere in the world that can keep Microsoft in check?’ is that, right now, for countless and well-rehearsed reasons, there probably isn’t. But help is at hand.
Relationships rule. They sustain us all – empire, giant or ordinary man in the street. Trust is at the heart of relationships and Microsoft – except in the sense in which the US has anti-trust laws – isn’t very good at trust. (Scimitar's shadow-side model explains why this is so.) Nor is Microsoft particularly good at relationships, even relationships with empires - with the exception always of the CIA, The Pentagon and the Bush administration of course. (The EU, for instance is due to decide this week whether or not to suspend the sanctions it imposed on the giant for ‘abuse of its dominant position’ in refusing to sell a version of Windows without MediaPlayer. Hardly a clash of Titans, a cynic might fear.)
Shakespeare put his finger on the problem (when didn’t he?) in Measure for Measure when he has Isabella say, ‘O, it is excellent to have giant’s strength but it is tyrannous to use it like a giant’. Worms turn at the margin of power asymmetry and trust becomes self-regulatory. Savvy organizations have been Microsoft averse for a good many years. Likewise savvy emerging economies, still living with painful memories of colonialism and slavery. In the end, trust, the great regulator, will be the authority Richard is looking for.
Byzantium, Constantine the Great’s peerless empire, began in the year 330 of the common era and lasted until the 29th of May 1453. As for Bill Gates's empire, the world won’t have to wait as long until sic transit gloria Microsoft.
Suns set on empires in the end, Egyptian, Assyrian, Roman, Byzantine, British, the roll-call of yesterday’s elites still echoes down the years. And, much to their chagrin, giants have blind-spots where upstarts can sneak by them. Coca Cola begat Pepsi Cola. Xerox begat GUIs. NCR begat IBM. And IBM, at the height of its hubris, dismissing the power of the ‘bunch’ – Burroughs, Univac, NCR, Control Data and Honeywell, giants in their own rights whose total gross revenues Big Blue’s net profit regularly exceeded – begat Microsoft. And, as far as I can see, the answer to Richard’s question ‘Is there really an Authority anywhere in the world that can keep Microsoft in check?’ is that, right now, for countless and well-rehearsed reasons, there probably isn’t. But help is at hand.
Relationships rule. They sustain us all – empire, giant or ordinary man in the street. Trust is at the heart of relationships and Microsoft – except in the sense in which the US has anti-trust laws – isn’t very good at trust. (Scimitar's shadow-side model explains why this is so.) Nor is Microsoft particularly good at relationships, even relationships with empires - with the exception always of the CIA, The Pentagon and the Bush administration of course. (The EU, for instance is due to decide this week whether or not to suspend the sanctions it imposed on the giant for ‘abuse of its dominant position’ in refusing to sell a version of Windows without MediaPlayer. Hardly a clash of Titans, a cynic might fear.)
Shakespeare put his finger on the problem (when didn’t he?) in Measure for Measure when he has Isabella say, ‘O, it is excellent to have giant’s strength but it is tyrannous to use it like a giant’. Worms turn at the margin of power asymmetry and trust becomes self-regulatory. Savvy organizations have been Microsoft averse for a good many years. Likewise savvy emerging economies, still living with painful memories of colonialism and slavery. In the end, trust, the great regulator, will be the authority Richard is looking for.
Byzantium, Constantine the Great’s peerless empire, began in the year 330 of the common era and lasted until the 29th of May 1453. As for Bill Gates's empire, the world won’t have to wait as long until sic transit gloria Microsoft.
Thursday, December 16, 2004
It's hardly cricket
originally posted by John
Playing it, reading about it, watching it – both live and on telly - cricket has played a big part in my life. It’s always been important to me without ever being serious - a magical thing. The same goes for lots of people I suspect. In many ways it’s our national game and as such it isn’t easy to fit it into the trust space. For those to whom it was important it was somehow transcendent in terms of trust.
At least it was before the game’s venal owners flogged off test match broadcasting rights to Sky. Now its position is simple: deep in the dark boundary corner where intense commodity meets intense authority. The very place occupied by the mocked, inauthentic Fox News. Where Rupert Murdoch reigns supreme and no sensible person would ever trust going.
Goodbye old friend it's a sad day.
Playing it, reading about it, watching it – both live and on telly - cricket has played a big part in my life. It’s always been important to me without ever being serious - a magical thing. The same goes for lots of people I suspect. In many ways it’s our national game and as such it isn’t easy to fit it into the trust space. For those to whom it was important it was somehow transcendent in terms of trust.
At least it was before the game’s venal owners flogged off test match broadcasting rights to Sky. Now its position is simple: deep in the dark boundary corner where intense commodity meets intense authority. The very place occupied by the mocked, inauthentic Fox News. Where Rupert Murdoch reigns supreme and no sensible person would ever trust going.
Goodbye old friend it's a sad day.
Diana and the baker
originally posted by John
Properly done risk management enhances trust. Balancing strategy and technology with authentic human behaviour is the beginning. Here’s a quite perfect illustration of the power of Scimitar’s perspective model at work:
Back in 1999 (Bruce Schneier relates in his latest newsletter on the above link) Diana Dean, a US customs agent on the Canadian border did her work with the kind of authenticity so lacking in my Sainsbury’s baker. Thanks to her, a car-load of explosives was intercepted and LA airport was spared a devastating holiday-season bomb disaster. If she’d used the available computerized profiling technology like the baker used his in-store oven things could have turned out differently. Sainsbury’s could do with a whole load of Diana Dean's authentic behaviour. The quality of the bread probably wouldn’t improve but customers’ tempers – and their inclination to buy stuff – certainly would.
Properly done risk management enhances trust. Balancing strategy and technology with authentic human behaviour is the beginning. Here’s a quite perfect illustration of the power of Scimitar’s perspective model at work:
Back in 1999 (Bruce Schneier relates in his latest newsletter on the above link) Diana Dean, a US customs agent on the Canadian border did her work with the kind of authenticity so lacking in my Sainsbury’s baker. Thanks to her, a car-load of explosives was intercepted and LA airport was spared a devastating holiday-season bomb disaster. If she’d used the available computerized profiling technology like the baker used his in-store oven things could have turned out differently. Sainsbury’s could do with a whole load of Diana Dean's authentic behaviour. The quality of the bread probably wouldn’t improve but customers’ tempers – and their inclination to buy stuff – certainly would.
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
Following our fears
originally posted by John
Network trust grows out of our natural fear of being fearful. It is what makes us cooperate. It leads us into relationships that make us feel comfortable. We know that a feeling of belonging can allay fear even when belonging comes at a price. But, authentic as they are, our personal comfort needs leave us vulnerable to manipulation.
Politicians seek power by reflecting our perceived collective security needs and at the same time judging the price we’d be prepared to pay to get them mitigated. So it’s a fair bet that we can expect the government’s 2005 election campaign to focus on (a) economic stability (courtesy of Gordon Brown) reflecting our fear of raging inflation; on (b) social order (courtesy of David Blunkett’s successor) reflecting our fear of lawlessness; and on (c) continuity (courtesy of Tony Blair) reflecting our fear of change.
That’s fine, one might say, that’s politics. But in trust terms the price of this stability, order and continuity package will inevitably be increased submission to authority leading to even greater power being ceded to the Blair/Brown/New Labour brands when it comes to next playing the fear card. The path from being willing co-operators in a network trust deal to being pawns in a commodity trust power play leads to disillusion and abuse of trust. It’s a path we’ve trodden before.
Network trust is powerful medicine. We need to learn its message: we have nothing to fear but fear of fear itself.
Network trust grows out of our natural fear of being fearful. It is what makes us cooperate. It leads us into relationships that make us feel comfortable. We know that a feeling of belonging can allay fear even when belonging comes at a price. But, authentic as they are, our personal comfort needs leave us vulnerable to manipulation.
Politicians seek power by reflecting our perceived collective security needs and at the same time judging the price we’d be prepared to pay to get them mitigated. So it’s a fair bet that we can expect the government’s 2005 election campaign to focus on (a) economic stability (courtesy of Gordon Brown) reflecting our fear of raging inflation; on (b) social order (courtesy of David Blunkett’s successor) reflecting our fear of lawlessness; and on (c) continuity (courtesy of Tony Blair) reflecting our fear of change.
That’s fine, one might say, that’s politics. But in trust terms the price of this stability, order and continuity package will inevitably be increased submission to authority leading to even greater power being ceded to the Blair/Brown/New Labour brands when it comes to next playing the fear card. The path from being willing co-operators in a network trust deal to being pawns in a commodity trust power play leads to disillusion and abuse of trust. It’s a path we’ve trodden before.
Network trust is powerful medicine. We need to learn its message: we have nothing to fear but fear of fear itself.
Commodity trust rules
originally posted by John
Cigarette smuggling is big business. It’s global. Almost as big - bigger some maintain - as the legitimate cigarette business. Giant tobacco firms profiteer from it effortlessly.
EU and national government efforts to do something about it have been reported religiously as a favourite cause by Private Eye over the years. So far there’s been little success. Now, the current Eye reveals, things are changing. Though Patricia Hewitt, Trade and Industry Secretary, still refuses to publish her department’s latest report. So there’s no saying whether or not the change is for the better.
Among the quotes, conjecture and background in the Eye piece there’s a snippet from Kenneth Clarke, cigar-smoking deputy chairman of BAT - British American Tobacco, one of the profiteering giants – and former Tory chancellor. ‘We act,’ Clarke says, ‘on the basis that our brands will be available alongside those of our competitors in the smuggled as well as the legitimate market.’
Crooked or straight, good or bad, black market or white, the brand must go on. Where commodity trust is at stake there are no rules.
Cigarette smuggling is big business. It’s global. Almost as big - bigger some maintain - as the legitimate cigarette business. Giant tobacco firms profiteer from it effortlessly.
EU and national government efforts to do something about it have been reported religiously as a favourite cause by Private Eye over the years. So far there’s been little success. Now, the current Eye reveals, things are changing. Though Patricia Hewitt, Trade and Industry Secretary, still refuses to publish her department’s latest report. So there’s no saying whether or not the change is for the better.
Among the quotes, conjecture and background in the Eye piece there’s a snippet from Kenneth Clarke, cigar-smoking deputy chairman of BAT - British American Tobacco, one of the profiteering giants – and former Tory chancellor. ‘We act,’ Clarke says, ‘on the basis that our brands will be available alongside those of our competitors in the smuggled as well as the legitimate market.’
Crooked or straight, good or bad, black market or white, the brand must go on. Where commodity trust is at stake there are no rules.
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Trust the technology
originally posted by John
When is an in-store bakery like a life-support machine?
This riddle popped into my mind as I called for bread after listening on the car radio to a discussion on the government’s proposed legislation on the ‘living wills’ of people on life-support.
Scimitar’s perspective model prompted it. This is the tool we use to try to develop a risk-manageable balance between a firm’s strategy, and the combination of technology and people it uses in trying to achieve it. There is an inherent risk that the technology constrains the people to such an extent that they become detached from the strategy and ultimately detached from their work. Risk management is impossible without this state being addressed. So is trust.
Seen from this perspective, the technology of life-support systems keeps people alive who are detached from life’s generally agreed strategy. My hope is that the legislation is aimed at doing something about it in terms of restoring some trust. The in-store bakery in my local Sainsbury’s does the same for the guys making bread. But nobody seems to be doing anything about it at all.
‘Any organic?’ I asked the guy in the baker’s hat. He looked at the meter on his oven and said ‘five minutes.’ I came back after a stroll round the store. ‘Large white organic, please,’ I said. ‘Only doing wholemeal today,’ he replied.
When is an in-store bakery like a life-support machine?
This riddle popped into my mind as I called for bread after listening on the car radio to a discussion on the government’s proposed legislation on the ‘living wills’ of people on life-support.
Scimitar’s perspective model prompted it. This is the tool we use to try to develop a risk-manageable balance between a firm’s strategy, and the combination of technology and people it uses in trying to achieve it. There is an inherent risk that the technology constrains the people to such an extent that they become detached from the strategy and ultimately detached from their work. Risk management is impossible without this state being addressed. So is trust.
Seen from this perspective, the technology of life-support systems keeps people alive who are detached from life’s generally agreed strategy. My hope is that the legislation is aimed at doing something about it in terms of restoring some trust. The in-store bakery in my local Sainsbury’s does the same for the guys making bread. But nobody seems to be doing anything about it at all.
‘Any organic?’ I asked the guy in the baker’s hat. He looked at the meter on his oven and said ‘five minutes.’ I came back after a stroll round the store. ‘Large white organic, please,’ I said. ‘Only doing wholemeal today,’ he replied.
Monday, November 1, 2004
Thy will be done...
originally posted by John
Dubya’s is, we’re told over and over again, as though it’s something we should all give thanks for, America’s first-ever ‘faith-based’ administration in which the most powerful man in the world gets his policies directly from God. Because of this, we’re assured, he has ‘the trust of the American people’.
And Dubya’s not the only one getting hotline guidance from God as the Swedish newspaper Aftonbladet reported in August 3rd 2004.
When God sent her a load of text messages telling her to kill Alexandra Fossmo, Sara Svensson, a religious twenty-seven year old nanny from Uppsala, Sweden, did just that. She shot her through the head. Then God started texting her to do the same to a guy called Daniel Linde, but she failed to do God’s will and Daniel survived. Sara’s ‘God’ turned out to be the guy she was having an affair with - Alexandra’s husband and her very own employer - Pentecostal preacher Pastor Helge Fossmo, who was also having an affair with Mrs Linde. The Pastor’s now serving a life sentence for murder and Sara’s undergoing psychiatric treatment.
Peter Sutcliffe, the Yorkshire Ripper, it came out in his trial, used to get messages from God too. Nice to know Dubya’s not alone, isn’t it?
Dubya’s is, we’re told over and over again, as though it’s something we should all give thanks for, America’s first-ever ‘faith-based’ administration in which the most powerful man in the world gets his policies directly from God. Because of this, we’re assured, he has ‘the trust of the American people’.
And Dubya’s not the only one getting hotline guidance from God as the Swedish newspaper Aftonbladet reported in August 3rd 2004.
When God sent her a load of text messages telling her to kill Alexandra Fossmo, Sara Svensson, a religious twenty-seven year old nanny from Uppsala, Sweden, did just that. She shot her through the head. Then God started texting her to do the same to a guy called Daniel Linde, but she failed to do God’s will and Daniel survived. Sara’s ‘God’ turned out to be the guy she was having an affair with - Alexandra’s husband and her very own employer - Pentecostal preacher Pastor Helge Fossmo, who was also having an affair with Mrs Linde. The Pastor’s now serving a life sentence for murder and Sara’s undergoing psychiatric treatment.
Peter Sutcliffe, the Yorkshire Ripper, it came out in his trial, used to get messages from God too. Nice to know Dubya’s not alone, isn’t it?
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
Paul's gospel
originally posted by John
Alarm bells started ringing as I listened today as Jack Straw and Geoff Hoon huffily dismissed the very idea that the Pentagon’s demand for UK troops to cover them while they flatten Falluja might have some political dimension. This is purely an operational matter, they huffed indignantly, and any suggestion that it might be connected with the upcoming US election and that Dubya might get some vote-mileage out of it is so ludicrous it’s inconceivable and it’s purely coincidental anyway.
Alarm bells? The apologist poodles were as fawningly awful as ever – so nothing there to trigger any alarms – the pair make Uriah Heep look like a star pupil in a self-assertiveness class. No, it was remembering Paul Krugman’s first rule of dealing with the Bush regime that set the bells ringing. This simply says: don’t expect things to make sense in terms of their stated goals.
Alarm bells started ringing as I listened today as Jack Straw and Geoff Hoon huffily dismissed the very idea that the Pentagon’s demand for UK troops to cover them while they flatten Falluja might have some political dimension. This is purely an operational matter, they huffed indignantly, and any suggestion that it might be connected with the upcoming US election and that Dubya might get some vote-mileage out of it is so ludicrous it’s inconceivable and it’s purely coincidental anyway.
Alarm bells? The apologist poodles were as fawningly awful as ever – so nothing there to trigger any alarms – the pair make Uriah Heep look like a star pupil in a self-assertiveness class. No, it was remembering Paul Krugman’s first rule of dealing with the Bush regime that set the bells ringing. This simply says: don’t expect things to make sense in terms of their stated goals.
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
The intimate world of Smith's Law
originally posted by John
One of the insights I got as a long ago student of economic history remains with me to this day. It was that during the formative years of European civilization, the ruling classes in country A had almost nothing in common with the ordinary people of country A but lots in common with the ruling classes in countries B, C, D through Z. Our modern continent’s trust mechanisms reflect this in many ways. And the insight remains true today on a number of levels.
The arcane rules that formalize international diplomacy for example and govern organizations such as the UN, the EU, ASEAN, NATO etc as well as global market players and national governments, reflect this historic commonality. They create a place at the far end of Richard’s trust gradient, a place from which ordinary people are excluded, a place for intimates only.
Groups and individuals able to provide access to and communication between these intimate areas become very powerful indeed and command gigantic fees for their efforts. They make intimacies between say Enron and Arthur Andersen and Haliburton and the Pentagon look like playground games. The rewards available in intimacy’s holy of holies are staggering as this glimpse into one of those intimate places shows.
America’s profitable payback for its investment in regime change in Iraq depends directly upon the performance of the Iraq economy (ie oil). Iraq though is the world’s number one debtor nation owing upwards of $200bn to a great list of creditors. Repayments would be a drag on revenue flows and debt relief would clearly help enormously. In furtherance of this, President Dubya got his daddy’s old secretary of state and head of a group of world-class intimates, Texas billionaire James Baker, to persuade his contacts in the world’s intimate places to start forgiving Iraq its debts in what he called a ‘noble mission’.
Kuwait is Iraq’s number one creditor, in line for war reparations and debt repayments in excess of $50bn, a sum never likely to be fully repaid in reality but which would be put at further risk by Baker’s global relief efforts. So, to address the pressing risk brought about by his own success, Baker dons one of his other hats – that of director of the Carlyle Group – and offers Kuwait’s owners, the Al-Sabah family, his group’s plan for ‘monetizing’ their Iraq assets. They transfer ownership of the debt to his group and for a down payment of under $2bn and a basic 5% commission plus exes of course, the group collects from intimate connections and everyone is happy. The Al-Sabahs snatch his hand off while happily signing his debt-relief accord.
Smith’s Law triumphs again.
One of the insights I got as a long ago student of economic history remains with me to this day. It was that during the formative years of European civilization, the ruling classes in country A had almost nothing in common with the ordinary people of country A but lots in common with the ruling classes in countries B, C, D through Z. Our modern continent’s trust mechanisms reflect this in many ways. And the insight remains true today on a number of levels.
The arcane rules that formalize international diplomacy for example and govern organizations such as the UN, the EU, ASEAN, NATO etc as well as global market players and national governments, reflect this historic commonality. They create a place at the far end of Richard’s trust gradient, a place from which ordinary people are excluded, a place for intimates only.
Groups and individuals able to provide access to and communication between these intimate areas become very powerful indeed and command gigantic fees for their efforts. They make intimacies between say Enron and Arthur Andersen and Haliburton and the Pentagon look like playground games. The rewards available in intimacy’s holy of holies are staggering as this glimpse into one of those intimate places shows.
America’s profitable payback for its investment in regime change in Iraq depends directly upon the performance of the Iraq economy (ie oil). Iraq though is the world’s number one debtor nation owing upwards of $200bn to a great list of creditors. Repayments would be a drag on revenue flows and debt relief would clearly help enormously. In furtherance of this, President Dubya got his daddy’s old secretary of state and head of a group of world-class intimates, Texas billionaire James Baker, to persuade his contacts in the world’s intimate places to start forgiving Iraq its debts in what he called a ‘noble mission’.
Kuwait is Iraq’s number one creditor, in line for war reparations and debt repayments in excess of $50bn, a sum never likely to be fully repaid in reality but which would be put at further risk by Baker’s global relief efforts. So, to address the pressing risk brought about by his own success, Baker dons one of his other hats – that of director of the Carlyle Group – and offers Kuwait’s owners, the Al-Sabah family, his group’s plan for ‘monetizing’ their Iraq assets. They transfer ownership of the debt to his group and for a down payment of under $2bn and a basic 5% commission plus exes of course, the group collects from intimate connections and everyone is happy. The Al-Sabahs snatch his hand off while happily signing his debt-relief accord.
Smith’s Law triumphs again.
Thursday, October 7, 2004
Just a thought
originally posted by John
As I was listening to a report about the findings of the Iraq Survey Group, I learned that Saddam, despite having no WMD, had something far worse – he was harbouring thoughts of maybe actually getting some within the next decade or so – and a hoary old rugby joke came to mind.
At scrum after scrum, in this joke, the referee penalises a particular prop who maintains his innocence despite the whistling in his ears and mumbles throughout that the ref doesn’t understand the laws of scrummaging. The ref eventually gives him a final warning telling him he’ll be sent off if he says anything else. The prop reflects on this for a while, then says, ‘I know you can send me off for saying things, but can you send me off for thinking things?’ ‘No, of course not,’ says the ref, ‘why?’ ‘Well, I was just thinking,’ said the prop, ‘that you’re a rubbish referee.’
As I was listening to a report about the findings of the Iraq Survey Group, I learned that Saddam, despite having no WMD, had something far worse – he was harbouring thoughts of maybe actually getting some within the next decade or so – and a hoary old rugby joke came to mind.
At scrum after scrum, in this joke, the referee penalises a particular prop who maintains his innocence despite the whistling in his ears and mumbles throughout that the ref doesn’t understand the laws of scrummaging. The ref eventually gives him a final warning telling him he’ll be sent off if he says anything else. The prop reflects on this for a while, then says, ‘I know you can send me off for saying things, but can you send me off for thinking things?’ ‘No, of course not,’ says the ref, ‘why?’ ‘Well, I was just thinking,’ said the prop, ‘that you’re a rubbish referee.’
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)