I know how al-Quida could win.
Oh, they are going to win anyway; they know who we are and how to hurt us. We don't know who they are or how to hurt them. Government fired the only guy who seemed to have a clue.
How do you hurt someone who desires to die for his cause? (The Brits used to bury the Muslim terrorists with a pig, to deprive them of heaven.)
I know how al-Quida could score a bloodless victory over the United States. All they have to do is publicize the facts about the Income Tax.
If they could persuade the American people that the Income Tax was illegal, immoral, and unenforcable, 40% of government revenue would dry up.
That 40% of government income supplied by the Income Tax is what pays for the social activist programs... and the foreign adventures.
Wouldn't it be ironic if our greatest enemy did us our biggest favor?
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Wesley Snipes and Unreasonable Justice
The headlines state "Wesley Snipes Gets 3 Years".
The story says that he got three one-year sentences, to be served consecutively, which is weird.
He was convicted of three misdemeanors. The maximum allowable sentence for a misdemeanor is one year or - maybe - one year minus a day.
For the judge to give him the maximum sentence three times, then make them run consecutively makes me think the judge was peeved. This is a judge "throwing the book at him." The judge is violating the spirit of the law.
Perhaps it is just biased reporting; we aren't told which misdemeanors were violated.
I doubt if it will stand on appeal, but it is timely for the IRS. This is the annual high-profile tax case that the IRS tries to have in the news each April 15th.
In my eyes Snipes hurt his cause when he paid-up at the sentencing. He effectively admitted that he owed the money.
And it is hard to say that he doesn't owe the money.
If you sign your enlistment paper you have agreed to abide by the Uniform Code of Military Justice. You have agreed that appointees of your government have the right to shoot you if you if the enemy doesn't. You have put yourself between the hammer and the anvil.
If you sign your 1040, you have agreed to abide by the tax code... which is stupid, since the code is too complicated to understand and probably self-contradictory. Once you sign, they got you if they want you.
A friend describes it this way, "If you want to play baseball, you have to play by baseball rules... but you don't have to play baseball."
I haven't played baseball since 1998. When an agent called and pointed that out to me, I admitted it saying, "The income tax is voluntary. I don't choose to volunteer." She giggled. I'll swear it was a nervous giggle. She said, "I haven't heard that one before." She never called back.
Watch the video at http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=6716929127738729234. It confirms what I've been reading for years; that the Income Tax is voluntary. Then ask yourself how Wesley Snipes got three years for not volunteering? (They couldn't punish him for not volunteering, so they hit him as hard as they could for something else.)
The video is of a talk given at the National Press Club. The speaker, Marcella Brooks, was the forewoman of a jury during a "willful failure to file" case. The defendant was acquitted because the government repeatedly refused cite - to the defendant and to the jury - the law where it says you have to file.
Now, tell me again what Wesley Snipes is going to jail about?
When I Google myself, all I find is a Capital-Journal interview where I claim/admit that I don't pay income tax. The interview was done in 1992, while I was running for Congress.
At the end of the article the reporter asked an IRS agent about it. The agent said, "We want everyone to pay their taxes."
This is the second most efficient form of lying; to tell a truth without answering the question. He said "the IRS wants everyone to pay their taxes" (true), but he didn't say I owed taxes.
What is really scary about this is that while some agents are innocent - they don't know that the income tax is voluntary - others are not. They know it is voluntary and they enforce it anyway. Revenuers depend on people's innocence and the IRS' ability to intimidate. We are not a "nation of laws", we are a nation of cowards.
I admit I'm terrified. Under the weight of a century of micro-management by Congress, consensus and law have broken down . Now I see my government seeking to achieve its goals by terror and intimidation.
I heard the following phrase at a Fully Informed Jury Association convention: "You have no rights which you do not assert."
Snipes should have stood on his right to a jury.
The story says that he got three one-year sentences, to be served consecutively, which is weird.
He was convicted of three misdemeanors. The maximum allowable sentence for a misdemeanor is one year or - maybe - one year minus a day.
For the judge to give him the maximum sentence three times, then make them run consecutively makes me think the judge was peeved. This is a judge "throwing the book at him." The judge is violating the spirit of the law.
Perhaps it is just biased reporting; we aren't told which misdemeanors were violated.
I doubt if it will stand on appeal, but it is timely for the IRS. This is the annual high-profile tax case that the IRS tries to have in the news each April 15th.
In my eyes Snipes hurt his cause when he paid-up at the sentencing. He effectively admitted that he owed the money.
And it is hard to say that he doesn't owe the money.
If you sign your enlistment paper you have agreed to abide by the Uniform Code of Military Justice. You have agreed that appointees of your government have the right to shoot you if you if the enemy doesn't. You have put yourself between the hammer and the anvil.
If you sign your 1040, you have agreed to abide by the tax code... which is stupid, since the code is too complicated to understand and probably self-contradictory. Once you sign, they got you if they want you.
A friend describes it this way, "If you want to play baseball, you have to play by baseball rules... but you don't have to play baseball."
I haven't played baseball since 1998. When an agent called and pointed that out to me, I admitted it saying, "The income tax is voluntary. I don't choose to volunteer." She giggled. I'll swear it was a nervous giggle. She said, "I haven't heard that one before." She never called back.
Watch the video at http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=6716929127738729234. It confirms what I've been reading for years; that the Income Tax is voluntary. Then ask yourself how Wesley Snipes got three years for not volunteering? (They couldn't punish him for not volunteering, so they hit him as hard as they could for something else.)
The video is of a talk given at the National Press Club. The speaker, Marcella Brooks, was the forewoman of a jury during a "willful failure to file" case. The defendant was acquitted because the government repeatedly refused cite - to the defendant and to the jury - the law where it says you have to file.
Now, tell me again what Wesley Snipes is going to jail about?
When I Google myself, all I find is a Capital-Journal interview where I claim/admit that I don't pay income tax. The interview was done in 1992, while I was running for Congress.
At the end of the article the reporter asked an IRS agent about it. The agent said, "We want everyone to pay their taxes."
This is the second most efficient form of lying; to tell a truth without answering the question. He said "the IRS wants everyone to pay their taxes" (true), but he didn't say I owed taxes.
What is really scary about this is that while some agents are innocent - they don't know that the income tax is voluntary - others are not. They know it is voluntary and they enforce it anyway. Revenuers depend on people's innocence and the IRS' ability to intimidate. We are not a "nation of laws", we are a nation of cowards.
I admit I'm terrified. Under the weight of a century of micro-management by Congress, consensus and law have broken down . Now I see my government seeking to achieve its goals by terror and intimidation.
I heard the following phrase at a Fully Informed Jury Association convention: "You have no rights which you do not assert."
Snipes should have stood on his right to a jury.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Radio Memories
Eat-n-Write, a memoir writing class
2 Aug 2006
Radio Memories
I remember driving cross-country at night with my parents. In the ’50’s we lived 185 miles north of my grandparents, and often wound up driving home after dark.
After we kids settled down, we’d listen to dad sing, and – finally - we’d be reduced to listening to the radio.
It is a perverse fact, but I enjoy staticy radio… it reminds me of my youth, of being warm and safe and all together with the family.
I don’t remember what was on the radio. I just remember the ambiance.
Today when I listen to radio I get ball games or Rush Limbaugh.
I hate ball games… unless I am watching them with family.
I don’t like ball games because crowds manipulate my emotions.
In the mid-60’s I joined the army and went to Vietnam as a result of such manipulation.
And after Vietnam I spent two months in an army hospital winding down.
My emotions are MINE. I want other people to leave them alone.
Advertisers be damned. Histrionic commentators be damned. I know what you are doing, and my finger rests on the ‘off’ button.
Rush Limbaugh tries hard to manipulate my emotions. I listen when I can’t stand whatever else is on.
Rush paints the Liberals in a dark light… although I don’t believe the Conservatives are any better.
I’ve been thinking about writing a suggestion to the Libertarians. They ought to publish a “vote for” list. They have enough votes to swing an election… if they could act together… if they could bring themselves to vote for “a lesser evil” instead of “a sure loser, but isn’t he a good guy?”
I think the Libertarians should vote as a block for a couple of election cycles. They could rock the boat; bust up the Republicrat block. Those two have been leaning toward each other for so long – trying to steal voters from the other party – that they are distinguishable only by rhetoric.
The problem is… for whom should Libertarians vote?
Until this morning I was going to vote Democratic, but after listening to Rush…
But I can’t vote Republican because that would reward Rush.
So I guess I’ll vote Libertarian, just because I hate… hate?… Rush with his talk of his crotch and his lovable, pink, naked, body… That man is gross. That man has no shame.
I want my PBS… preferably on a staticy station being pulled in from far away, on a cold, dark night, with my boys in the warm car.
I want my boys to have sleepy memories of being warm and safe and all together with family.
Thanks to Charlie Kempthorne of The Life Story Institute. http://www.thelifestoryinstitute.com/fatbook2.htm
2 Aug 2006
Radio Memories
I remember driving cross-country at night with my parents. In the ’50’s we lived 185 miles north of my grandparents, and often wound up driving home after dark.
After we kids settled down, we’d listen to dad sing, and – finally - we’d be reduced to listening to the radio.
It is a perverse fact, but I enjoy staticy radio… it reminds me of my youth, of being warm and safe and all together with the family.
I don’t remember what was on the radio. I just remember the ambiance.
Today when I listen to radio I get ball games or Rush Limbaugh.
I hate ball games… unless I am watching them with family.
I don’t like ball games because crowds manipulate my emotions.
In the mid-60’s I joined the army and went to Vietnam as a result of such manipulation.
And after Vietnam I spent two months in an army hospital winding down.
My emotions are MINE. I want other people to leave them alone.
Advertisers be damned. Histrionic commentators be damned. I know what you are doing, and my finger rests on the ‘off’ button.
Rush Limbaugh tries hard to manipulate my emotions. I listen when I can’t stand whatever else is on.
Rush paints the Liberals in a dark light… although I don’t believe the Conservatives are any better.
I’ve been thinking about writing a suggestion to the Libertarians. They ought to publish a “vote for” list. They have enough votes to swing an election… if they could act together… if they could bring themselves to vote for “a lesser evil” instead of “a sure loser, but isn’t he a good guy?”
I think the Libertarians should vote as a block for a couple of election cycles. They could rock the boat; bust up the Republicrat block. Those two have been leaning toward each other for so long – trying to steal voters from the other party – that they are distinguishable only by rhetoric.
The problem is… for whom should Libertarians vote?
Until this morning I was going to vote Democratic, but after listening to Rush…
But I can’t vote Republican because that would reward Rush.
So I guess I’ll vote Libertarian, just because I hate… hate?… Rush with his talk of his crotch and his lovable, pink, naked, body… That man is gross. That man has no shame.
I want my PBS… preferably on a staticy station being pulled in from far away, on a cold, dark night, with my boys in the warm car.
I want my boys to have sleepy memories of being warm and safe and all together with family.
Thanks to Charlie Kempthorne of The Life Story Institute. http://www.thelifestoryinstitute.com/fatbook2.htm
Mason City, Iowa
Travelogue 8/29/06
This summer has been delightful. We entertain a hope that we can return to Manhattan after a year or two, but right now we are compelled by allergies to flee. We have spent the summer looking for a spot to settle. Our first trip was through Colorado, Utah, New Mexico. Our second trip was Iowa, Wisconsin. Our third trip was New Mexico, Colorado, Nebraska.
Mason Iowa is postcard perfect. My comment as we drove into town was, “It looks like the set of The Music Man, and it turned out to be the birthplace of Meredith Willson; author of The Music Man.
There is a little park that has a campground and a truly wonderful water park.
Little girls wait with bated breath to be noticed so they can wave and be friendly. (They aren't pushy, they are just attentively waiting to catch your eye.)
The campground was really crowded with RV's, but there were few people. I asked our neighbor to the east if this was common. He said, “This isn't crowded. You should have seen it last week.” he then gave us the two dollar tour.
The campground is open seasonally, but when it opens, some people move in and live there for seven months, until it closes. (And their campsites show it.)
I asked about the Civil War, Union Army-style tent to our west. He said it belonged to a homeless single-mother who works nights.
A little later he walked past our tent saying, “I've got to leave for awhile. You are welcome to use my campfire. I've got two packages of hot dogs. You are welcome to one of them.”
The next morning we tried to check our e-mail but couldn't get on. When we discussed it with the campground hostess she lent us her laptop. She was apologetic because she had to go pickup her daughter at school, she couldn't stay while we used her laptop. I asked if everybody was always this helpful (“trusting” was the word I had in mind). She said, “Oh, no. But stranger things happen. Two weeks ago, during the fair, one of the vendor's hired help was delayed. It was his nephew and he couldn't get here on time 'cause of classes or something. My husband helped until the nephew got here. My husband cooked funnel cakes for two days.”
I love Mason City, Iowa.
I wish it were allergy free.
This summer has been delightful. We entertain a hope that we can return to Manhattan after a year or two, but right now we are compelled by allergies to flee. We have spent the summer looking for a spot to settle. Our first trip was through Colorado, Utah, New Mexico. Our second trip was Iowa, Wisconsin. Our third trip was New Mexico, Colorado, Nebraska.
Mason Iowa is postcard perfect. My comment as we drove into town was, “It looks like the set of The Music Man, and it turned out to be the birthplace of Meredith Willson; author of The Music Man.
There is a little park that has a campground and a truly wonderful water park.
Little girls wait with bated breath to be noticed so they can wave and be friendly. (They aren't pushy, they are just attentively waiting to catch your eye.)
The campground was really crowded with RV's, but there were few people. I asked our neighbor to the east if this was common. He said, “This isn't crowded. You should have seen it last week.” he then gave us the two dollar tour.
The campground is open seasonally, but when it opens, some people move in and live there for seven months, until it closes. (And their campsites show it.)
I asked about the Civil War, Union Army-style tent to our west. He said it belonged to a homeless single-mother who works nights.
A little later he walked past our tent saying, “I've got to leave for awhile. You are welcome to use my campfire. I've got two packages of hot dogs. You are welcome to one of them.”
The next morning we tried to check our e-mail but couldn't get on. When we discussed it with the campground hostess she lent us her laptop. She was apologetic because she had to go pickup her daughter at school, she couldn't stay while we used her laptop. I asked if everybody was always this helpful (“trusting” was the word I had in mind). She said, “Oh, no. But stranger things happen. Two weeks ago, during the fair, one of the vendor's hired help was delayed. It was his nephew and he couldn't get here on time 'cause of classes or something. My husband helped until the nephew got here. My husband cooked funnel cakes for two days.”
I love Mason City, Iowa.
I wish it were allergy free.
Bathroom Graffitti
Bathroom Graffitti
Read in Wagon Mound, NM on 25 Oct. 07.
“F… USA”
A second hand writes, “Then quit sneaking over the boarders.”
A third hand corrects, “It’s borders.”
A couple of nights ago Danni and I caught a graffittist at work. His two buddies saw us and walked away; one east, one west. (He was shaking the can and talking so he didn't hear us approach.)
I asked him what he was going to write, but he claimed to not know whereof I spoke as he "inconspicuously" pocketed the can of paint.
We were yelling at each other across the street. We weren't arguing. Just carrying on a private conversation over traffic.
I hollered, "It is a good sign that you might be doing something wrong, if your friends will abandon you without warning."
He looked around, maybe noticing for the first time that he was alone.
What I didn't say was, that it might also be a good sign that he needs new friends.
I was young once, and in need of new friends.
And I was lucky enough to get them.
May he be lucky, too.
Read in Wagon Mound, NM on 25 Oct. 07.
“F… USA”
A second hand writes, “Then quit sneaking over the boarders.”
A third hand corrects, “It’s borders.”
A couple of nights ago Danni and I caught a graffittist at work. His two buddies saw us and walked away; one east, one west. (He was shaking the can and talking so he didn't hear us approach.)
I asked him what he was going to write, but he claimed to not know whereof I spoke as he "inconspicuously" pocketed the can of paint.
We were yelling at each other across the street. We weren't arguing. Just carrying on a private conversation over traffic.
I hollered, "It is a good sign that you might be doing something wrong, if your friends will abandon you without warning."
He looked around, maybe noticing for the first time that he was alone.
What I didn't say was, that it might also be a good sign that he needs new friends.
I was young once, and in need of new friends.
And I was lucky enough to get them.
May he be lucky, too.
Fun Dreams and GeoPolitics
Log entry from September 2006
Fun Dreams 060919
Fifteen years ago Bobby McBride told of double-dating with a high school friend who dated younger girls. The young lady listened to the geriatrics for awhile then asked, “Don’t you talk about anything but your health?”
No.
As we get old our bodies fail us. The failure occurs slowly and piecemeal, but inevitably the margin of life gets narrower as the drugs and practices necessary to sustain life lose effectiveness or develop deleterious side effects.
This slow degradation is better than the alternative.
You might think that getting old is like driving a car that hesitates and makes strange noises. I never considered it myself. Even as my father was dying, it never occurred to me to wonder how he felt until it started happening to me.
Sometimes it feels like being the rider of a horse that suddenly trips and goes to its knees. Is a shock, over before you can react, and all you can do is ride it out. Sometimes the horse recovers quickly. Sometimes the tired old horse rests before it struggles back. And sometimes the horse panics and –embarrassingly – you lose control of it for awhile.
In the wee hours of this morning I grabbed a book while waiting for the weary horse to recover.
Since seventh grade, reading has been my balm. I empathize with the old cowboys who read whatever came to hand, including baking soda cans. Sometimes my reading material gets irregular, too. This morning, I picked up “Qataban and Sheba” by Wendall Phillips, published in 1955.
The book was something my mother was trying to get unburdened of. It caught my eye so I took it. I will read it – if nothing else -- because of the inscriptions.
In Dad’s clear, pre-mercury poisoning scrawl is written: R.W. Clack, Box 400, Ark. City, Kansas. (How many years ago was that?)
In Mom’s more rounded hand there are three notes:
A totally delightful book! (In blue ink.)
ACC 95 (In black ink.)
ACC 05 (In red ink.)
I like the way Mom has taken to dating her reading.
One of my treasures is a politically incorrect book with a 1912 inscription to my Grandfather Cox.
Perhaps I should start inscribing my books for the possible joy of my children.
So this morning I read Qataban and Sheba, an archeological travelogue about exploring Arabia in 1950.
The story reminds me that Arabia almost went to the Germans during WW2.
In 1950 Arabia was “interesting” in the Chinese curse meaning of “may you have an interesting trip”.
The captain of their guard was a man who had killed three of his male family members because they killed a wedding guest whom he, the guard captain, had invited.
The government of Arabia wanted $45,000 or a steamroller as road tax for allowing the expedition into the country. My, how things have changed.
Anyway, after I read for awhile, I went back to bed.
And dreamt.
I dreamt I worked in a summer camp in Arabia. Camp was over for the year. The campers had left and camp family and friends were visiting.
I had fallen in love with a visitor.
She had not fallen in love with the desert.
She was kidnapped by a raiding sheik.
I asked my sheik for his best rifle and a horse and permission to recover her.
Apparently I disapproved of the way she dressed, because the first thing I did was get her a change of useful, comfortable clothes.
And then I was momentarily distracted by the kingdom’s military response to this raid. The soldiers were assembling weapons the likes of which I’d never seen. It turned out they were paint-ball guns with high capacity magazines and a 1000 yard range. And the paint-balls were filled with poison.
When Danni woke me up I was feeling so “up”. I was going to get to go into the desert that I loved, and save the woman that I loved, and – of necessity – teach her how to love the desert too.
I recounted this to Danni. She thought it was hilarious good fun. (You see why I love her?)
I came away from the dream with a deeper understanding of the conflict in the Mid-East. The key point is that the jihadists are romantics. The suicide bombers are romantics.
This is important. We lost Vietnam because we were not fighting the same war our enemy fought, and their paradigm was more accurate than ours was. (Which stands to reason, since it was their war.)
We are going to lose in Iraq (and Iran) because we don’t understand who is fighting or why they are fighting. (John Adam’s “War of Numbers” documents how badly we didn’t understand our enemy in Vietnam.) We are fighting for oil and sanctity of contract. They are fighting for water, God, love, family honor, and the pure animal joy of bloodying an enemy’s nose.
Part of the reason we had so much difficulty in the Pacific during WW2 was that we didn’t understand that the Japanese soldiers had no choice but to win, but -- in their culture -- an honorable death was a win! They weren’t fanatics, they were just honorable people adhering to an alien code. Our lack of understanding made them seem fanatical.
The middle easterners, too, are adhering to a code we don’t understand. If we nuke them, we destroy ourselves. To ‘beat’ them without nuking them, we have to understand them. We have to stretch our minds until we know in our guts, what motivates them. What gives them joy at dawn? If we stretch our minds enough to encompass that, then we are them, and they have won.
There are only two roads to victory in the mid-east. One way is to take the romance out of it (from their perspective). The other way is to make them like us, or us like them. “Enemies become similar.”
The more fascinating question is, do we have time to understand the Chinese?
David Coblentz distributed a 2002 article that claimed all cultures are shame avoidance based or guilt avoidance based. The article mentions as examples of shame based cultures the Confederacy, Germany, Italy and Japan during WWII, and the Arabs. In a shame based culture, the goal is to avoid shame, which means fighting unless the enemy is so overwhelmingly powerful that there is no shame in surrender. (Churchill described the Germans as “At your throat or at your feet.”)
The great weakness of the shame avoidance culture is that shame can be exported; your honor can be redeemed by shaming another. (Dad used to quote the Mid-Eastern saying, “Me against my brother; my brother and I against our cousins; we and our cousins against the world.”) In such a culture it is going to be very difficult to achieve great things by cooperation… even their road gangs have to be hired foreign.
Perhaps that is the reason why Israel wins each war; the Israeli army promotes on merit, while the Arab armies promote on honor?
The message of the article was that shame based cultures attack on sign of weakness, while guilt avoidance cultures try to avoid taking advantage… which is interpreted by shame based culture as a sign of weakness and as a signal to attack. The offer of mercy is seen as a sign of weakness, and weakness must be attacked.
Hmm. Does this mean that all successful corporate cultures are shame based?
No, look at Don & Jerry’s Ice Cream.
Still, Enron clearly was a shame based culture, or they would not have dug the hole they did.
The older I get, the more I understand that everything is interrelated. The old saw about studying your naval to understand the universe is true. The laws that govern mice, govern men.
The Chinese have created an army by aborting or adopting foreign their girl children. This was done because boy children were honorable.
The Saudi’s have created an army by making actual work devoid of honor for princes.
If they ever fight, the Chinese will be fighting for concubines and the Saudi’s for honor. (Concubines, because an honorable wife must be Chinese… so the Chinese are ancestor worshipers and a shame avoidance culture, too. The shame avoidance idea sounds like a restatement of the Indian analysis that claimed Chinese culture calls for attacking when you are strong and appeasing when you are weak.)
Fascinating.
Fascinating, too, is my sudden understanding of why I write. I write to organize my thoughts, to understand, to learn, to forge new insights.
It is OK if someone else cares to read what I write, but I’m not writing for someone else.
I must guard against writing for someone else.
Fun Dreams 060919
Fifteen years ago Bobby McBride told of double-dating with a high school friend who dated younger girls. The young lady listened to the geriatrics for awhile then asked, “Don’t you talk about anything but your health?”
No.
As we get old our bodies fail us. The failure occurs slowly and piecemeal, but inevitably the margin of life gets narrower as the drugs and practices necessary to sustain life lose effectiveness or develop deleterious side effects.
This slow degradation is better than the alternative.
You might think that getting old is like driving a car that hesitates and makes strange noises. I never considered it myself. Even as my father was dying, it never occurred to me to wonder how he felt until it started happening to me.
Sometimes it feels like being the rider of a horse that suddenly trips and goes to its knees. Is a shock, over before you can react, and all you can do is ride it out. Sometimes the horse recovers quickly. Sometimes the tired old horse rests before it struggles back. And sometimes the horse panics and –embarrassingly – you lose control of it for awhile.
In the wee hours of this morning I grabbed a book while waiting for the weary horse to recover.
Since seventh grade, reading has been my balm. I empathize with the old cowboys who read whatever came to hand, including baking soda cans. Sometimes my reading material gets irregular, too. This morning, I picked up “Qataban and Sheba” by Wendall Phillips, published in 1955.
The book was something my mother was trying to get unburdened of. It caught my eye so I took it. I will read it – if nothing else -- because of the inscriptions.
In Dad’s clear, pre-mercury poisoning scrawl is written: R.W. Clack, Box 400, Ark. City, Kansas. (How many years ago was that?)
In Mom’s more rounded hand there are three notes:
A totally delightful book! (In blue ink.)
ACC 95 (In black ink.)
ACC 05 (In red ink.)
I like the way Mom has taken to dating her reading.
One of my treasures is a politically incorrect book with a 1912 inscription to my Grandfather Cox.
Perhaps I should start inscribing my books for the possible joy of my children.
So this morning I read Qataban and Sheba, an archeological travelogue about exploring Arabia in 1950.
The story reminds me that Arabia almost went to the Germans during WW2.
In 1950 Arabia was “interesting” in the Chinese curse meaning of “may you have an interesting trip”.
The captain of their guard was a man who had killed three of his male family members because they killed a wedding guest whom he, the guard captain, had invited.
The government of Arabia wanted $45,000 or a steamroller as road tax for allowing the expedition into the country. My, how things have changed.
Anyway, after I read for awhile, I went back to bed.
And dreamt.
I dreamt I worked in a summer camp in Arabia. Camp was over for the year. The campers had left and camp family and friends were visiting.
I had fallen in love with a visitor.
She had not fallen in love with the desert.
She was kidnapped by a raiding sheik.
I asked my sheik for his best rifle and a horse and permission to recover her.
Apparently I disapproved of the way she dressed, because the first thing I did was get her a change of useful, comfortable clothes.
And then I was momentarily distracted by the kingdom’s military response to this raid. The soldiers were assembling weapons the likes of which I’d never seen. It turned out they were paint-ball guns with high capacity magazines and a 1000 yard range. And the paint-balls were filled with poison.
When Danni woke me up I was feeling so “up”. I was going to get to go into the desert that I loved, and save the woman that I loved, and – of necessity – teach her how to love the desert too.
I recounted this to Danni. She thought it was hilarious good fun. (You see why I love her?)
I came away from the dream with a deeper understanding of the conflict in the Mid-East. The key point is that the jihadists are romantics. The suicide bombers are romantics.
This is important. We lost Vietnam because we were not fighting the same war our enemy fought, and their paradigm was more accurate than ours was. (Which stands to reason, since it was their war.)
We are going to lose in Iraq (and Iran) because we don’t understand who is fighting or why they are fighting. (John Adam’s “War of Numbers” documents how badly we didn’t understand our enemy in Vietnam.) We are fighting for oil and sanctity of contract. They are fighting for water, God, love, family honor, and the pure animal joy of bloodying an enemy’s nose.
Part of the reason we had so much difficulty in the Pacific during WW2 was that we didn’t understand that the Japanese soldiers had no choice but to win, but -- in their culture -- an honorable death was a win! They weren’t fanatics, they were just honorable people adhering to an alien code. Our lack of understanding made them seem fanatical.
The middle easterners, too, are adhering to a code we don’t understand. If we nuke them, we destroy ourselves. To ‘beat’ them without nuking them, we have to understand them. We have to stretch our minds until we know in our guts, what motivates them. What gives them joy at dawn? If we stretch our minds enough to encompass that, then we are them, and they have won.
There are only two roads to victory in the mid-east. One way is to take the romance out of it (from their perspective). The other way is to make them like us, or us like them. “Enemies become similar.”
The more fascinating question is, do we have time to understand the Chinese?
David Coblentz distributed a 2002 article that claimed all cultures are shame avoidance based or guilt avoidance based. The article mentions as examples of shame based cultures the Confederacy, Germany, Italy and Japan during WWII, and the Arabs. In a shame based culture, the goal is to avoid shame, which means fighting unless the enemy is so overwhelmingly powerful that there is no shame in surrender. (Churchill described the Germans as “At your throat or at your feet.”)
The great weakness of the shame avoidance culture is that shame can be exported; your honor can be redeemed by shaming another. (Dad used to quote the Mid-Eastern saying, “Me against my brother; my brother and I against our cousins; we and our cousins against the world.”) In such a culture it is going to be very difficult to achieve great things by cooperation… even their road gangs have to be hired foreign.
Perhaps that is the reason why Israel wins each war; the Israeli army promotes on merit, while the Arab armies promote on honor?
The message of the article was that shame based cultures attack on sign of weakness, while guilt avoidance cultures try to avoid taking advantage… which is interpreted by shame based culture as a sign of weakness and as a signal to attack. The offer of mercy is seen as a sign of weakness, and weakness must be attacked.
Hmm. Does this mean that all successful corporate cultures are shame based?
No, look at Don & Jerry’s Ice Cream.
Still, Enron clearly was a shame based culture, or they would not have dug the hole they did.
The older I get, the more I understand that everything is interrelated. The old saw about studying your naval to understand the universe is true. The laws that govern mice, govern men.
The Chinese have created an army by aborting or adopting foreign their girl children. This was done because boy children were honorable.
The Saudi’s have created an army by making actual work devoid of honor for princes.
If they ever fight, the Chinese will be fighting for concubines and the Saudi’s for honor. (Concubines, because an honorable wife must be Chinese… so the Chinese are ancestor worshipers and a shame avoidance culture, too. The shame avoidance idea sounds like a restatement of the Indian analysis that claimed Chinese culture calls for attacking when you are strong and appeasing when you are weak.)
Fascinating.
Fascinating, too, is my sudden understanding of why I write. I write to organize my thoughts, to understand, to learn, to forge new insights.
It is OK if someone else cares to read what I write, but I’m not writing for someone else.
I must guard against writing for someone else.
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