A few good men?

The outcry against the current Wikileaks document dump seems to me to be a similar line of reasoning as Jack Nicholson's character in A Few Good Men. Apparently we can't handle the truth. We need people acting on our behalf outside the rules we are expected to follow ourselves. These people should have no public oversight or scrutiny of their actions. Secretly we want it that way ... because we can't handle the truth.

The diplomats and politicians want to give us easy to digest black and white versions of the world. There are good guys (France, for example) and bad guys (France, for example if we go back a couple of years). The leaders of the Free World are all nice guys and girls. They are competent, honest, hard-working. We can rest easy at night, and sleep soundly in out beds. Because if we knew the truth ...

The world is full of grey. The leaders of the so-called free world are often corrupt, vain, stupid, inappropriate, paranoid, etc. Toppling Saddam didn't create a wonderful secular democracy overnight ... and has allowed Iran to gain more regional influence than some of its neighbours would like. Pakistan has some serious problems, which include the possibility of nuclear terrorism. China and North Korea sometimes don't get along. The U.S. bullies and bribes other countries into doing stuff they don't want to do. The U.S. sometimes does negotiate with terrorists.

The thing is ... none of these are revelations. Unless you are the kind of person who takes press releases from the White House at face value. And that is the crux of the matter. Too many journalists and commentators have been asleep at their desks doing just that .. letting the obvious lies, half-truths, and diplomatic double-speak get reported uncritically. Or worse, actually helping to formulate and disseminate those lies.

It is not the job of politicians and their PR-people to tell us the truth. It is supposed to be the job of journalists to ferret out that truth and expose the grayness of the world. Not only are most journalists not doing that, many are actually attacking Wikileaks for making that job possible. Even now the mainstream media (particularly television) spends more time reporting the spin coming from the White House about the leaks than the contents of the leaks themselves. It's as if the majority of them have no idea how to analyze and write about evidence, so they resort to regurgitating the press releases from officials ... once again reporting on auto-pilot.

The lesson here is that not only can we handle the truth, but that many of us already knew the truth. It turns out that the cynics among us were pretty much on the money. Who would have guessed? It's the majority of the media who seem to have no idea what to do with the truth.

Let's hope a few more people have now had the wool pulled away from their eyes, and that maybe a few more journalists start to question the official line on a regular basis.

Robbin' John the Hood and his Band of Merry Businessmen

How Robbin' John shifted the tax burden to the poor.

In Merry Aotearoa in the time of now, when good King Rob McLeod chaired the round table, there lived near the green blades of grass of the Beehive Lawn a famous outlaw whose name was Robbin' John the Hood.

No person ever lived that could keep such a happy smile on his face while stabbing you in the back. Nor were there ever such yeomen as those in the caucus that roamed the corridors of power.

Right merrily they dwelled within the dark labyrinth of the Beehive, suffering neither care nor want, but passing the time in merry games of lawmaking or bouts of tax reform, living upon the fat of the land, washed down with expensive wines and spirits (unless a photographer was around, in which case they drank beer from the bottle like a good kiwi bloke).

Not only Robbin' John himself but all the band were outlaws and dwelled apart from other men, yet they were beloved by the electorate for they focused on populist issues such as tougher sentencing for criminals, reducing benefits to the undeserving, and the dangers that boat people represented.

Now Robbin' John and his band of merry businessmen lived by a strict code, whereby they would only take from the poor and give to the rich. This they did through means most devious and cunning. So cunning, in fact, were the ways that Robbin' John and his men used to take money from the underclass of Aotearoa that the poor often applauded him and hailed him as their champion. After all, he had such a nice smile, and he told them that everything he was doing was good for them.

So it chanced on one fine summer's day, while Robbin' John the Hood was walking merrily through the Beehive thinking of his beloved Maid Sharples, and his beloved Maid Rodney (sometimes it's best if you promise to marry two maids, as that way you can play them off against one another. And who knows, thoust may even convince them to stop squabbling and co-operate in a three-way) when he chanced upon his good friend Little Bill.

"And where art thou going now, my good lad?" asked Robbin' John of Little Bill.

"Um ... I've was just headed back to the office to do some work, John. Are you alright?"

"Why dost thou ask?" replied Robbin' John.

"Well, you normally wear a suit, not a green outfit and tights. And you're speaking funny, even for you."

"Ha ha ha," laughed Robbin' John, in that particular forced laugh of his. "I'm fine, my loyal minion. I'm dandy. But we strive to take more money from the poor and give it to the rich."

"And how do we do that, John?"

"That's easy, Little Bill. A group of noblemen, from the county of Taxworkinggroup-ingham have sent a herald with a long scroll detailing ways we can reform the tax laws of the land. First, we must lower taxes on that which one earns. The more one earns, the more one will gain from tax cuts."

"But won't that mean we take in less money? How will we finance all those populist projects we need to have in order to remain in power?

"Never fear, Little Bill. The honourable men of Taxworkinggroup-ingham have a solution."

"Just where is that place? Was this something you picked up on your junket to the U.S.? Is it near Houston?

Robbin' John ignored the question of his companion and continued to spell out his cunning plan.

"The solution is to raise that most noble of taxes, the Gee of Ess Tea."

"Raise G.S.T. Why, that's brilliant, John."

"Aye, it tis. It tis."

"Tis?" said Little Bill with a quizzical look.

The Gee of Ess Tea was a traditional boon dating from the days of yore when King Douglas sat on the throne after locking up the rightful (or is that leftful?) rulers in a dungeon of their own making. Whenever a subject of Aotearoa purchased a good or a service they were required to give twelve and a half cents on the dollar to the King (or Queen). As the nobles of Taxworkinggroup-ingham knew, by it's very nature the Gee of Ess Tea was a tax that benefited those who had more at the expense of those who had less. Why, their own calculation, computation and mystical divining had determined that buying food alone accounted for 20% of the total of the Gee of Ess tea.

"The larger the percentage of your total income that is taken up by essential food purchases, the worse off you are," said Little Bill in his own made-up language. "So the less you earn the greater your tax burden will be as a percentage if G.S.T. is raised. When you factor in alcohol, cigarettes, petrol, Sky Sports subscriptions, and other so-called essentials for the Hoi Polloi ... well, to but it bluntly, we'll be screwing the plebs like never before."

"Your words are strange and crude to me, Little Bill, but I think I understand the jist of your meaning. Indeed the people will bleed slowly dry by this new arrangement."

"But how will we maintain our popularity?" asked Little Bill. "What if our opponents challenge us? What if our allies oppose us? What if the people work out that we are screwing them royally?

"Fear not, Little Bill. I have answers to your barrage of ill-thought out questions."

At this, Robbin' John the Hood took up a heroic pose in the dimly lit corridors of power, his legs wide, his hands on his hips, his chest thrust out, the bulge in his tights barely visible in the florescent flickering. His stare was fierce but non-directional, his smile fixed and insincere, his voice weak and weedy.

"First, we shall maintain our popularity the same way we always have, through cheap poorly conceived populist policies whose long-term consequences are undetermined but likely to be negative."

"Secondly, our opponents are weak and divided. Why I happen to know that the one who shadows your own position, David of Cunliffe has said he will merely consider the report of the nobles of Taxworkinggroup-ingham and only urged caution in the softest of tones. The ones who call themselves Green in colour and philosophy are concerned that we are not adding in another tax on the environment. Our other opponents are inconsequential."

"Thirdly, our allies, the Maids Rodney and Sharples, are too busy competing for my attention to pose a threat. Why dearest Rodney has already told me how much he likes my plan, his eyelashes a flutter. And as for the hairy peach that is Maid Sharples, why the only concern on those luscious lips was that the proposed land tax might be unfair to Maori.

"But the majority of Maori don't own much if any land??" said Little Bill.

"Tis true, Little Bill. The trappings of court have changed the Maid Sharples and the lady in waiting. Once you experience the good life there's no going back."

"As they say," interjected Little Bill, "power corrupts."

"Absolutely," agreed Robbin' John. "As for your fourth question, Little Bill, the masses are just that. The masses. They are the suckers that P.T. Barnum told us are born every minute. They will applaud the tax cuts, even though for them it will mean a few dollars a week, while for you and me and the band of merry businessmen the same cut will give us hundreds every seven days."

"They see the Gee of Ess Tea as a fair tax, a system that is the same for all. They cannot be bothered to, or just cannot, do the calculations that would show them that the more you earn the less as a percentage your burden is under that noble system. They are sheep, willingly queuing for the slaughter, offering us the wool on their backs as they march up the ramp in unison to the blade."

"Wow!" exclaimed Little Bill. "You've really gotten melodramatic since that appearance on Letterman. Cynical too. TV really changes people."

And with that Robbin' John the Hood pressed his thumb to the UP button, waited for the magical doors to open, stepped inside the levitating chamber and ascended to his throne, content with his works.

Apologies to Howard Pyle 1853-1911, whose out of copyright version of Robin Hood was maimed and defiled in the making of this blog entry.

The Hegemony of the US middle-class

It's Labour Weekend in New Zealand, and so my mind turned to the almost perfect system of labour (or should I say, labor) that a certain country's capitalism has devised.

Imagine if you will a system whereby your pension and healthcare were tied directly to your job. Without employment your health options and future living potential are severely curtailed. You retirement savings are tied into the stock market, so if Wall Street suffers so does your future. Your company offers you slightly discounted stock (in exchange for certain labor rights or in lieu of pay increases), so if the company suffers so do you.

Then imagine that in that same system employers can fire workers whenever they like for no reason at all. (Note: there may still be regulations regarding racism and sexism, but these can be worked around. For example, while you can't ask on a job application for an applicants race or gender, you can screen people with names like DeShawn, JaMarkus, Migel, or Kate. They still have to give their name; mwah ha ha ha!)

Imagine that the economy has up-times and down-times. In up times they tell you there's no need to give you pay rises, as that would impact on profits and the share price. You have shares, remember, so you wouldn't want the price to go down.

In down times they tell you they may have to cut staff (horror of horrors!) ... unless you all agree to a pay cut? Remember, your health and your future depend on you having a job. So of course you'll agree to a small (say 5%) pay cut.

Over time you'll see your wages go down. You'll want to make waves, but this is a system with very few strong unions (organized labour equals communism, and communism is what you'll find in hell when you die, you Pinko!). Besides, complaining could mean you get fired. After all, they can do that anytime, for any reason.

Imagine that? You don't have to. It exists, and has fans in all right-wing political parties across the globe. It may be coming to a country near you soon.

Press Conference Hat Trick

The latest two weeks of school holidays are over, so I have a fraction more time to write now. Here's a random rant, while I try to organize my blog notes fro tomorrow.

Best political quotes of the week went to Silvio Berlusconi, who claimed in the one press conference that;

I am, and not only in my own opinion, the best prime minister who could be found today. I believe there is no one in history to whom I should feel inferior. Quite the opposite.

He then went on to say that;

In absolute terms, I am the most legally persecuted man of all times, in the whole history of mankind, worldwide.

However, it wasn't the paranoia combined with delusions of grandeur that really make the conference. It was when he explained how much his legal battles had cost him that the best gaff was made. Berlusconi claims he had spent;

... more than €200m in consultants and judges.

He then corrected himself to "consultants and lawyers", but the damage had been done. Way to go Silvio!

Boob week?

Was it just me, or was it NZ boob week?

-- Boobs on bikes
-- Pamela Anderson turns up for fashion week
-- John Key on Letterman

( . Y . )

Another Random Thought

Too busy not sleeping to think of anything constructive.

However, ...

World leaders who claim they never negotiate with terrorists did not spend any time with their young children.

My random thought for the day.

The Spirit of '76

Lest we forget. After the death of a recruit at Fort Dix, in February 1976, the US government feared a swine flu pandemic and the resulting public outcry. A universal vaccination program was started, despite no further deaths and only a handful of further cases at Fort Dix. To get the public behind the vaccinations the Ford Administration launched an advertising campaign, with some scare-tactics that even today's media organizations would be proud of.

Then, in October 1976, three elderly patients died after getting their swine flu vaccinations (although this was later shown to be an unrelated event). The media circus that followed turned public opinion against the program. Soon after a paralyzing neuromuscular disorder (Guillain-Barré syndrome) was linked to the shots, further eroding support for the jabs. The program was stopped in December 1976.

1976. One death from swine flu. Over 40 million jabs causing about 500 neuromuscular cases and 25 resulting deaths from complications. The backlash against this poorly thought out vaccination campaign unfortunately mutated into a general anti-vaccination movement that has severely limited the effectiveness of many important immunization programs since.

This time around it's the media and public paranoia that are leading to the widespread taking of unnecessary medicines. Oseltamivir, better known as Tamiflu, has been linked to a number of adverse effects, including potential fatal neurological side-effects, particularly in children under twenty. However, as these effects are behavioural changes, such as causing self-harm, they are difficult to quantify. Still, in 2006 the FDA changed the warning on Tamiflu to include the possible side-effects of "delirium, hallucinations or other related behavior".

Only time will tell what the effect of widespread use of Tamiflu by worried, but otherwise healthy, individuals will do. Only time will tell whether fear of swine flu is once again more deadly than the disease itself.

H1N1 Knit One, Purl One

One of our local pharmacies is selling face masks at inflated prices. People are faking flu symptoms to get Tamiflu, and are then trying to auction the pills online. I know of people who have paid to get flu shots, so they will be safe. The US vice-president is avoiding enclosed public spaces ... which is at least a bonus for anyone else in those enclosed spaces.

The swine flu scare really has brought out the greed and stupidity in people. Israel is slaughtering pigs and only refers to the disease as H1N1, as swine or pig flu is insulting. Just as well the media called it pig flu, rather than say baby flu or cuddly kitten flu. Although, TV journalist flu might lead to some useful culling.

The knitted web of fear that is the global media circus will keep us all glued to our screens ... the ultimate reality show ... bring out your dead ... bring out your dead. I'm off to buy a wooden cart and a bell.