Sketches by Boz

2010 Newsletter

2011-01-22T11:17:00.003+02:00

I have forsaken Christmas cards, Christmas SMS’s and emails, even Christmas presents themselves. I am a veritable Scrooge as I hasten into my dotage. My one concession to communication with the congregation is this vaguely annual newsletter. To be perfectly honest, it’s a record for myself of what the heck I did in the last year, but I do allow others to read it too. Consider yourself blessed, or, more probably, afflicted.

I think I will write this in reverse time order, with most recent events first. In this way, as we delve ever deeper into the less and less relevant past, you can just stop reading and say “Who the heck is this guy who keeps sending me stuff?”

The biggest news of the last week is that I finally FINISHED my book after 10 years of writing. For 10 years you could confidently expect 1,000 pages, but actually it is just somewhat more than 100. Of course, the book has been stolen twice (or rather, the computer on which it resided), restarted, forgotten, changed, abandoned. Anyway, the book is called “Consent to Life”, it has a very strong libertarian theme, and I finally quite enjoyed writing it. I am publishing it via a brilliant American website called Lulu.com. You can order a copy from me for R75, including surface postage, or you can order it direct from the website at http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/consent-to-life/14622373, for $10 plus about $3 postage or download a copy for $4. Sorry, no refunds if it is not what you expected.

On the 4^th of December I celebrated my 60^th birthday by hiring a local restaurant and singer, and inviting all my friends in J Bay along. I was especially delighted that Meg and Bonny and Rob flew down just for the weekend, to be at the party and to make some great speeches. Been a good year for speeches. The singer was a local guy from St Francis called Sam Mieny. I heard him singing Leonard Cohen and Cat Stevens in the local shopping mall, and thought they were actually playing the originals. After chatting to him for awhile I got the idea to have a party at which he would sing the old favourites from my youth, which he did. Amazingly, Meg gave me a beautiful video of Leonard Cohen on his 2009 world tour, at the age of 80, so he is also a favourite from my present.

Dylan and his girlfriend Kayleigh, Meg and her boyfriend Dave, and Linda’s aunt Erica all stayed with us at some time or other over the Christmas period. We had a wonderful time, the house was way full, the food and drink flowed, and volleyball was played at every possible occasion. Gotta love it!

Of course, the BIG news of 2010 was Bonny and Rob’s wedding on 18^th September at Oxbow Country Lodge near Bronkhorstspruit. That other soccer thing in 2010 paled into insignificance by comparison. It was an absolutely wonderful day, the weather perfect, the venue stunning, and the bride beautiful. Bonny and Rob organised the whole thing themselves, which lead to some exciting moments along the way, but the final result was worth all the effort. Photos can be viewed at http://picasaweb.google.com/108919701918672194909/BonAndRobWedding?feat=email#, and at http://picasaweb.google.com/110711608278519022806/BonnyWedding?authkey=Gv1sRgCNj-m_Dxs97Nbg#

Linda and I had a few exciting moments on the way to the venue when we got into an argument with one of Gauteng’s finest, a thick-as-a-brick traffic cop. He spotted the DA sticker on my truck, then wandered around the vehicle muttering “I must fine you, I must fine you.” Since the tires weren’t in bad nick, he decided the crack in the windscreen was a problem, and fined us R500. Fortunately, getting robbed by crooks in Gauteng is nothing new, so we just took it in our stride.

We drove up to Gauteng the week prior to the wedding, stayed with Meg for 2 days, then moved to Rob and Bon’s new house in Bryanston. It is lovely, unusual, huge, comfortable. Although expensive, it also provides them with a good income from a cottage, and both Bon and Rob hope to work from home in time. Unfortunately, the heavy rains in Gauteng have led to the flat roof leaking, and they are having to get that repaired.

Rob had his bachelor party on the Saturday before the wedding. It was held at this inflatable adventure park just off the M1 highway in Sloane Street. The place has inflatable climbing walls, inflatable trapeze swings, inflatable castle ramparts on which you duel with inflatable boxing gloves, and many more. In theory everyone had to compete against Rob on all the toys. Predictably, Rob won just about every encounter – he’s the original energiser bunny. After rolling down hills in giant plastic balls, we all repaired to the Wits University beach volleyball court, where the highlight was watching Ron win a game of volleyball while wearing diving flippers. Rob’s friends went to a huge amount of trouble, even making a video question and answer game, where Rob had to guess Bonny’s answers to various questions, then got to watch her actual answers. All great fun.

I helped organise the sport at this year’s Shell Festival in Jeffreys Bay. The festival is an annual event, designed mainly to attract visitors to the town during the September school holidays. I setup a website for the festival at http://shellfest.wordpress.com/, if anyone is interested. The really cool thing is that I was able to get R18,000 worth of sponsorship for the 7 sporting codes involved, including volleyball. I ran 3 tournaments over the 3 day long weekend, with good entries from Port Elizabeth and NMMU (PE University) making the trip, and several worthwhile prizes (R2000 for the first placed mens team). I managed to bag a 6 month gym membership for myself, and a trip to the Elephant Sanctuary near Knysna for Linda and I and friends. Once there, we communed with various pachyderms, then had a superb lunch at Enrico’s on Keurboomstrand.

I continue to be heavily involved in organising local volleyball – this seems to be my divine mission in life. I have now setup volleyball facilities at 5 different venues down here, not counting the beach nets I setup and dismantle every Sunday. By great good fortune we were offered the use of a large empty shop with a very high roof in the local Fountains Mall, where we played for free for most of 2010. Towards the end of the year I sent off an email to the council requesting the use of the Newton Hall, the main social facility in J Bay. To my complete surprise they agreed to allow us to use it, at no cost. After fitting protection on the neon tubes (a major exercise involving high scaffolding and much sweat), we now have a pretty good, full sized venue for volleyball at long last.

Our local volleyball took a huge knock when Garth and Anisa Taft emigrated to Oregon in the USA. Garth was one of our best local players and an excellent coach, with strong ties in the Humansdorp community. They have been sorely missed.

I coached volleyball at the local primary school in the course of the year. Initially we had a huge and chaotic crowd of young girls, but finally trimmed this down to a reasonable number. A schoolteacher at Pellsrus Primary takes an interest in volleyball. He contacted me to ask if I could organise trials for school volleyball for the Kouga district. I had done this several times in Gauteng, and understood the challenges (identifying and remembering the 12 best players in various age groups in the space of about 2 hours from a crowd of hundreds). We setup courts, registered players, appointed adjudicators, and waited for the late schools to finally arrive. It all went well, and 12 hugely excited girls were selected for the provincial trials to be held in East London in a weeks time. Everything always gets done at the last minute in sports organisation in South Africa. The schoolteacher assured me that he could arrange transport to and accommodation in East London at no cost, using his provincial school contacts. Foolishly, I took him at his word. We arranged the many permissions for young girls to travel 300km and stay overnight. Finally, amidst huge excitement and girlish shrieks, we all stood outside the school at 12 waiting for the bus to show up. After an hour of waiting, I contacted the Pellsrus teacher. Unbelievably, he hadn’t actually confirmed the bus yet. So began an unbearably frustrating afternoon of negotiation, begging, threatening and swearing at various officials all over the Eastern Cape. Finally, the girls’ school teachers cancelled the whole show at about 4pm. The bus finally left at 5.30pm, almost empty. I was depressed for weeks.

Linda continues to be in two minds about the move to Jeffreys Bay. She misses the kids and her friends and work in Johburg, and has battled to replace all that down here. She visits the 2 horses on the farm outside J Bay every morning, and often rides in the veld there. While her Reiki business has done well, having trained a number of local people, the Tai Chi classes dropped off at the end of 2010 due to various illnesses amongst the class members. I have managed to persuade Linda to get her own email address, which she looks at about once a week. The address is lindaw999@gmail.com, if you wish to communicate with her directly.

Linda continues to attract stray birds to her like fleas to a dog. During spring she hand-reared a total of 8 baby swallows which had been blown from their nests. Four of these flew off into the wild blue yonder, with a bit of coaching, and four didn’t make it. It’s quite a sight to see a baby bird with no prior experience or training suddenly flap its wings and soar into the sky. Angela Perkel, alias Drover, aka Sophia Yourhen continues to rule the roost, literally. The little day old chick we discovered near Gamtoos Mouth a year ago is now probably the world’s biggest chicken. She is immense. She attracts neighbouring planets. Angie, the elderly and irritating cock-atiel thinks she is beautiful, and regular bonks the middle of her back. It looks like a midget humping a feather mattress. Muisie the mousebird hates Angie almost as much as I do, and this tiny scrap of elderly feathered fluff regularly beats the crap out of him. Finally, we have Daisy dove with the broken wing, and the other dove, Baby, who just decided life in a cage was easier and safer.

Dylan decided to fly down to Jeffreys Bay over the Easter long weekend along with his girlfriend Kayleigh, and a fellow pilot and friend, Adam Harris (son of Jim Harris, my longtime libertarian friend who died last year). The plan was to leave early on Good Friday, refuelling at Bloemfontein and PE before landing at the little airstripnear us in Paradise Beach. Predictably, their start was delayed until about 12pm. At about 3pm I received an SMS asking me to meet them at PE, as Paradise Beach had no lights, and it would be dark by the time they got there. I drove up to PE, and went to watch the volleyball at the Splash Festival, while waiting for them to arrive. I will never forget sitting on the beachfront watching the clouds scudding across the sky in a 40 knot gale, thinking that there was no way they could land a little Cessna in this violent weather. Significantly, no commercial planes were landing at PE airport either. Finally I got a very apologetic SMS from Dylan saying that PE airport had been closed and they were turning back to either Middelburg or Bloemfontein. After a very intense debate in the plane as to whether Middelburg had landing lights or not (I discovered by chance just this last weekend that Middelburg does NOT have lights), they finally decided to press on to Bloemfontein, in the dark, through several storm systems, with just a handheld, battery powered GPS, and almost no night flying experience at all. Kayleigh sat quietly in the back listening to music, trying to ignore the arguments going on between the pilots. Linda and I were frantic with worry. I was fairly certain if they had not landed and contacted us by about 9.30pm, then they must be out of fuel. I started trying to look up emergency aviation numbers on the internet (incredibly difficult to find). Finally, at about 10pm we got a call from Dylan saying they had landed at Bloem with less than a jerrycan of fuel left on board, and all was well. Sheesh, and you wonder why I’m bald and grey!

Later in the year, around July, Dylan moved from Lanseria Flight Centre to 43 Air School Advanced Training, also at Lanseria. This seems to have been a step-up in terms of responsibility and prestige, if not in salary. He works really hard, but does get things like a company Blackberry. He is now completing his civil aviation licence, hopefully by the end of 2011. Dylan plays volleyball for Quantum, one of the top clubs in Johannesburg. They managed to win the VSA Cup this year, with Dylan on the team. Very cool.

Meg and Dave went for a stroll around Annapurna in the Himalayas in April. It was quite a long stroll, as it took 2 weeks, and went up as high as Everest Base Camp, through some magnificent scenery. To see their 1000 photos, go to http://picasaweb.google.com/izzypzee/AnnapurnaCircuit#. Its worth the visit. Meg continues to do well at Gordon Institute of Business Science, and now manages leadership development programmes for a portfolio of clients. She still keeps in occasional contact with Edward de Bono, flying down to Cape Town to visit him in the latter part of the year. She has also just registered for a challenging business course with Stellenbosch University, which will keep her busy for a year or two.

In February Bonny and Rob went on a trip through India. Despite insane taxi drivers, suicidal bus trips, vast heat and great congestion, they both loved the trip and had a good time. I think their theory was that if you can survive India together, you can survive anything together. Bonny continues to work at Aquavision as a producer, although she is not terribly happy there any longer. She is considering becoming a freelance producer/writer/editor and working from home. One of her films, The Last Lioness of Liuwa, went on circuit in 2010 to great popular acclaim. She had many amazing comments on her show when it aired on NatGeo and Sky in July.

During my visit to Johburg in September I attended a libertarian dinner attended by about 15 old and some new friends. It was great to meet the old familiar faces, and viewpoints. I have missed the Johburg libdins, despite having had a few Jeffreys Bay equivalents. The libertarians seem to have fallen into disarray, perhaps as a result of Jim’s death last year, perhaps due to other interests. The libsa discussion forum has slowly tailed away to nothing. The new Libertarian Society blog at http://libsa.wordpress.com/ has received no support from most of the community, not a single article has been contributed other than by me. The libertarian philosophy is important to me, I have devoted a lot of time and energy to it over the years, and I am sad to see it shrivel and die for no obvious reason. Still, that’s what you get for trying to herd cats.

During 2010 I became increasingly disillusioned with my participation in the Democratic Alliance in Jeffreys Bay. As a libertarian I dislike and distrust politics at the best of times. Every time I get involved in a political party (which has been quite often), I always end up regretting it. This time has been no exception. I got quite excited about working as a ward committee member in my local municipal ward. I set up a website (www.kougaw8.org) , organised meetings, went to budget and development discussions. However, the local DA hierarchy disapproved of ward committees, probably because they are meant to be apolitical, and ensured that they did not succeed. My fellow committee members were, by and large, elderly and very conservative, and generally did not approve of this soutie trying to change things. After having a public meeting explicitly cancelled by the local DA councillor, I decided to give up on both the ward committee and the DA. I recorded my reasons on my own blog (http://sketchesbyboz37.blogspot.com/) if anyone is interested. I still support the DA, believe that they are doing a great job in the Western Cape, but also believe that they will never be a part of an ultimate solution for the puzzle that is South Africa.

During the year I read a blog about a website called Ushahidi. During the Kenyan presidential election in 2008 the election monitors found that they could not keep up with the flow of election incident reports flowing in from all sources. An enterprising NGO setup a website to organise these reports, and the concept of crowdsourcing was born. Ushahidi means “witness” in Swahili. After the earthquake in Haiti, the aid agencies had the same problem dealing with all the requests for help pouring in. An interesting wrinkle is that aid agencies tend to hoard requests for help, and not to share them, since their income depends on how many people they have assisted, in most cases. The same folk deployed their Ushahidi software in Haiti, where it made a huge difference and became world famous. Using their software my friend Andre Bruton and I setup the http://www.gotcha.org.za/ blog and website to record incidents of crime in Jeffreys Bay (and on the west Rand). It seemed like a good idea at the time, but has largely failed due to a general lack of interest, probably due to a lack of marketing (although I did try quite hard). I get about 10 hits per day from spammers, and about 1 per month from J Bay residents. The idea has since been taken over by other, bigger websites such as www.mobilitate.co.za, to whom I shall probably concede defeat quite soon.

So what of the future. For my official predictions, go to http://libsa.wordpress.com/2011/01/04/2010-predictions/#comments, and perhaps add some of your own. I think that

high inflation is inevitable after a huge money printing binge,
many more countries, states, banks and businesses will have to go to the wall before this current financial crisis is over
the dollar will be superseded as the world reserve currency
China will emerge stronger and the West weaker from this crisis, leading to democratic reform in China, and mild chaos in America and many western nations
The average man-in-the-street will be screwed by inflation and taxes, again
South Africa will continue its slow, steady decline into poverty and despair
Australia and New Zealand will suffer a major natural disaster
Life will go on, except when it doesn’t

I guess that’s about it. Well done, if you have read this far. Hope all my predictions are wrong and that you have a wonderful 2011.

2010-11-03T17:30:00.002+02:00

Politics or principles – a simple choice

After being quite heavily involved in local DA politics prior to the 2009 general elections, and at various other times in my life, I have recently taken the decision to withdraw from active involvement in political parties. This article lays out the reasons clearly on paper for my own satisfaction, both to assure myself that I have made the right decision, and to save me making the wrong decision again in the future.

Reasons

I am a libertarian, not a politician.

I have adopted, and contributed to, the philosophy of libertarianism, since 1985. I am active in libertarian circles, maintaining the main contact database, running the website, organiser of many past conferences and meetings. Libertarians seek to minimise the role of government in civil society, confining government to just 3 roles – internal defence, external defence, and the judiciary. I am in fundamental philosophical conflict with most of the positions held by most politicians, including DA politicians.

I accept that the Libertarian position is impractical in the current SA, and utopian.

I disagree with some fundamental aspects of DA policy, such as their position on right to life, taxation, economic policy, democratic process.

Politics divides local communities, rather than uniting them

I am more interested in contributing to my local community than in attaining power and influence within it. I understand that South Africa is very badly managed by the ANC incumbents, and that a DA victories in the local elections would be the best thing for the country. However, political differences appear to make useful cooperation at many levels difficult.

Many useful initiatives do not depend on politics – religious charities, sports, neighbourhood watches, community organisations, and, in theory, ward committees.

Much of the DA membership consists of ex-National Party supporters.

Although I can’t be certain, many DA members do not appear to be long time supporters of the DA/DP/PFP/PP brand. Opinions expressed in discussions and at meetings tend to be quite conservative. Although definitely not for all, I believe that for many the DA is merely a flag of convenience.

I have spent most of my adult life actively campaigning against the tragedies perpetrated by the National Party on South Africa. I regard the party, its policies and its supporters as negative. I would rather continue to live with the narrow-minded, racist, socialist bigots in the ANC, than return to a country run by the narrow-minded, racist, socialist bigots in the National party.

Effective use of my energies

Working for a political party involves a lot of hard graft of only dubious value to the local community. Door-to-door canvassing of the already converted, erecting posters with dubious impact, carefully ignoring the real issues to avoid causing offence – this is not what I want to do.

Using sport to bridge social gaps. Directly addressing the problem of crime. Dealing with the real issues in our marginal communities. This is how I prefer to spend my energy.

Politics is no place for a man of principle.

Capital Punishment

2010-10-13T16:02:00.002+02:00

Murder and capital punishment are not opposites that cancel one another, but similars that breed their kind. G B Shaw

Introduction

This article is based on notes prepared for an Adam Smith debate held under the auspices of the Libertarian Society in May 1999.

Definitions

It is always a good idea to try and establish the size of the playing field and position of the goal posts before starting the game. Following are my definitions of the meaning of the terms used in this debate.

Capital punishment

The death penalty, legally sanctioned killing, with or without the support of the community

Life imprisonment

Imprisonment for life without parole

Capital crimes

Commonly, premeditated murder with aggravating circumstances.

During history, anything from sheep stealing and cattle rustling, through treason, rape, poaching on the King’s lands, etc

Hot pursuit

A catch-all phrase for violent acts committed in self-defence, or at the scene of a crime against the identified criminal during the crime’s commission.

War

General conflict between armies of two opposing states where the combatants are generally not personally known to each other.

My position

I oppose ceremonial, legally sanctioned executions undertaken by agents uninvolved in the original crime, against a captive individual who poses no immediate threat.

I do not oppose immediate retaliation against an identifiable aggressor in the act of committing a violent crime, commonly known as “Hot pursuit”.

I support the punishment and rehabilitation of convicted criminals, and the restitution of the victim for losses suffered, where possible

I support the right of every individual to a sturdy self defence

Reasons advanced for capital punishment

Capital punishment is commonly advocated for some or all of the following reasons:

Economy – it is cheaper to hang a man than to feed him

Revenge, anger – society has a right to exercise its emotions upon individuals

Punishment – justice must be served

Justice – punishment must be seen to be done, the punishment must fit the crime

Deterrent – nothing concentrates the mind like a good hanging

Permanent solution – dead men don’t rape no little girls

Protection – we’ll be safe when all the bad guys are dead

Will of the majority – can 31,000,000 Frenchmen be wrong?

Titillation – nothing sells newspapers like a good murder, trial and execution

No obvious principle – there is no single, consistent, unifying principle to justify capital punishment

Reasons against

I oppose capital punishment for all of the following reasons:

State incompetence

Why do we trust the state, which gets nothing else right (in our critical Libertarian opinion), to get this fundamental and irreversible issue right?

Since 1970, 78 people in the US alone have been released from Death Row with evidence of their innocence (Ref: Innocence and the death penalty: The increasing risk of executing the innocent)

Researchers Radelet & Bedau have found 23 cases since 1900 where innocent people were executed (ref In spite of innocence, Northeastern University Press, 1992).

The Guildford 4, the Rillington place murders, the Eikenhof 3 here in South Africa are just a few examples of wrongful verdicts that quickly spring to mind.. When the state establishes a specific “dirty tricks” department as it did under the leadership of Eugene de Kock, no doubt one can expect many other cases of wrongful verdicts.

Economy

US studies show it is 3 times cheaper to imprison for life than to execute

Florida has spent an average of $3.2 million for each person it has executed since 1972. The comparable figure for Texas is $2 million per case that has gone through all levels of appeal. The cost of executing Ted Bundy was at least $6 million dollars.

Make criminals pay their way – it is only the state’s ineptitude that make them expensive. You can make much more money out of a living person than a dead one.

We need to emphasise restitution and compensation of victims above revenge against the culprit.

Deterrent

The death penalty is widely discredited and rarely quoted as a deterrent nowadays. Murder rates are lower in American states that have abolished the death penalty. In 1990, there was an average of 5.0 homicides per 100,000 population in states that had abolished the death penalty. In death penalty states without executions, the homicide rate was 6.0 per 100,000. The highest homicide rates were in death penalty states with executions: 9.7 homicides per 100,000. The fear of execution may be what stops people who don’t commit murders from committing murders, but this is an unverifiable assertion. We do know for certain that fear of the death penalty does not deter those people who DO actually commit murder.

Permanent solution – irreversible

As the mother of a samurai says in James Clavell’s “Gai Jin”,

“Killing is easy, unkilling impossible”.

If you accept that the end justifies the means, then that means the end – of this debate, and of civilised discussion.

Many of life’s problems could be solved in a similar final manner. AIDS could be eradicated, bad stock removed from the gene pool, insane asylums emptied, even the problem of politicians could be solved by widespread usage of a “final” solution. However, that’s just not how civilised people do things.

Protection – prevention of future crimes

The death penalty is no protection from future psychotics and future murders – new killers arise constantly. South Africa had the most aggressive execution policy in the world in its past, and yet never ran out of people to execute.

Protection must be sought elsewhere – by reducing poverty, improving defence systems, rapid response to emergencies, counselling, psychological testing, personality altering drugs.

Worst cases – multiple repeat offenders

What should society do with its worst cases? Where does one put people like the fictional Hannibal Lecter, and the real Geoffrey Darmer and Ted Bundy? These people were all psychopathic and truly mentally ill, to be pitied as much as despised. Confine them securely, certainly, but is it right to eradicate them for being inflicted with a mental disease over which they have little or no control?

Society has solved the problem of accommodating evil people without executing them in the past. Penal colonies like Australia and Devil’s Island successfully dealt with society’s dregs, and even went on to become halfway decent societies in their own right. If we could confine people without executing them in the 19^th century, surely we can get this right again in the 20^th.

Life imprisonment without parole is a viable option in many modern states. It appears to be cheaper than execution (in countries with long appeal processes), it allows the possibility of financial restitution to the victims, it is certainly a punishment, and it allows for the possibility of error recovery.

Titillation

Don’t underestimate the value of titillation in the death penalty debate. Nothing sells newspapers, or concentrates the mind, like a good hanging.

Life imprisonment is rather slow to watch, so us abolitionists have no real alternative here for the couch potato viewing public, other than watching Mortal Kombat movies and games.

Hot pursuit

There are some cases where immediate and violent response to a crime in progress is appropriate. Under these circumstances the defence of the innocent must be the prime imperative. Normally, the guilt and identity of the criminal is beyond question. In a firefight situation, enshrouded in confusion and subject to great urgency, we must allow some slack for error. Occasionally the innocent may be harmed in attempts to apprehend the guilty, but each case will need to be reviewed on its merits.

In all cases, the severity of the retaliation must be roughly commensurate with the severity of the attack.

Public support

One of the least defensible arguments for capital punishment is that lots of people want it. Lots of people, almost certainly a majority, would like to forcibly redistribute the possessions of the rich too, but we try to avoid this in civilised societies.

But even the public support argument might be wrong. A 1987 U.S. Department of Justice poll found imprisonment was favored over the death penalty by a 2 to 1 margin as the sentence for first degree murder.

Virtually every recent state poll has found the public ready to abolish capital punishment in favor of a sentence of 25 years or more, combined with some kind of restitution to the victim's family.

The idea that the wishes of a majority, no matter how large, outweigh the rights of an individual, no matter how despised, is so abhorrent to Libertarians as to require no further argument.

Justice, punishment

“Crimes must be punished, justice must be served”, the advocates of capital punishment cry.

Camus said: “Capital punishment is the most premeditated of murders, to which no criminal's deed, however calculated can be compared. For there to be an equivalency, the death penalty would have to punish a criminal who had warned his victim of the date at which he would inflict a horrible death on him and who, from that moment onward, had confined him at his mercy for months. Such a monster is not encountered in private life.”

Life imprisonment may well be more feared than death by criminals, who are often adapted to a life of violence, but not to one of captivity and boredom.

The death penalty does not serve the needs of victims' families. The death penalty focuses the attention (and some sympathy) on the killer rather than the victim.

Revenge and retribution are not the objectives of the legal system – restitution and rehabilitation are.

Rehabilitation for single case murderers is certainly possible , as the case of Karla Faye Tucker would demonstrate.

When speaking of justice we must understand that the death penalty is no guarantor of fairness or justice. The biggest predictor of the death sentence is the race of the victim. Those who kill whites are four times as likely to receive a death sentence as those who kill blacks.

The death penalty works like a rigged lottery. Approximately 20,000 murders are committed in the U.S. each year. Of those, about 200 result in death sentences, mostly for the poor and black.

Revenge, Anger, Rage

These are not valid emotions for the basis of law in a civilised society. Rather, they are generally the basis for the original killing, which society so despises.

A civilised society rises above these base emotions, we are not Sicilians, or Colombians, or Hutu, or even Yugoslavs. Your behaviour as a society determines your label, and I don’t wish to live in a society labelled as backward and brutal. Attitudes to the Death penalty are the litmus test of a civilised society.

We do not tailor our laws in response to our fears, but through our intellect. The ugliness of the criminal and the crime does not define the nature of the civilised people obliged to deal with it. If we become no better than the criminal, then the criminal mind, and evil, have triumphed.

Principle

For me personally, the really important argument against capital punishment is that it conflicts with my principles and philosophy of life.

Libertarian philosophy

You have a right to your life, you are its sole owner. For me, as a Libertarian, this principle is as fundamental, simple and unequivocal as “Thou shalt not kill” should be to a Christian.

No one may rightfully take a life from another that they cannot replace, and still claim to hold to Libertarian principles.

It is simply not worth abandoning our good philosophy for the few hundred executions a year that satisfy our collective bloodlust

Consistent message

Aristotle said that a worthy concept should be based on reason, should be consistent, and should have no divided middle. If we say killing is a bad thing, how can we then proceed to kill? How can we kill some murderers, but not all murderers? If killing is OK under special circumstances, do we also say that theft, fraud, rape are OK under special circumstances, and should be carried out by suitably appointed members of the state to punish certain criminals? We don’t punish rape with rape, fraud with fraud, assault with assault. Why do we punish murder with murder?

Distinction

How do we distinguish ourselves from the scum we seek to punish if we undertake the same act. How do you explain this dichotomy to your children?

Conclusion

I believe that the debate on capital punishment will end much like the debate on slavery in the previous century. There were many well informed and educated people who made many reasoned arguments for the maintenance of slavery, including great minds like Thomas Jefferson. However, their premise was wrong and flawed. Liberty and justice could not be reconciled to slavery, and liberty and justice cannot be reconciled to capital punishment. It just takes some people longer than others to realise this.

I hope in this article, and in this debate, that I can persuade a majority of libertarians, if not all of them, to choose the only approach to the right to life issue which is consistent with our philosophy

A murderer may not deserve to live, but who amongst us deserves to kill?

30^th July 1999, Trevor Watkins

How stupid are we?

2010-07-27T10:39:00.006+02:00

As human beings, we do an amazing number of dumb things, and we tolerate an even greater number of truly dumb things done to us, as though we didn’t know any better. This essay is an attempt to know better. It lists some of my favourite stupidities, and suggests how we might try to manage some of them.

I base my view of others on the assumption that everyone acts in their own rational best interest at all times, based on their best available information. If someone tolerates a dumb situation, it is presumably because the cost of changing that situation exceeds the benefit. I guess this is the conclusion that Gordon Tullock came to with his Public Choice theory. However, I believe we must constantly re-assess our available information, and the cost of change. The internet can have a dramatic impact on both.

The Professions

Doctors, lawyers, engineers seek to protect their influence and incomes by forbidding others to practice unless they join their elite club. So, you can’t seek treatment from the person you prefer, you can’t take the medication you think you need, you can’t argue your own case in many courts, you can’t even build your own house, unless some authorised functionary of the system has given approval, informed or otherwise. And their excuse for requiring their permission – it’s because you are too stupid to work this out for yourself, you’re too stupid to distinguish between a charlatan and an expert, you’re so stupid you don’t even know what’s good for you.

Even worse, you hand over responsibility for your health to someone who profits from your continuing illness. You put your continuing freedom in the hands of someone who only profits when your freedom is threatened. You only buy new goods from a manufacturer when the old one’s fail or become obsolete.

There are many professions that don’t require the threat of force to guarantee their business. Actors, authors, artists, sex workers, all consider themselves “professionals”, yet don’t call the police if you choose to bypass their services, and do the job yourself, or get a trusted friend in. Of course, members of these professions are notoriously poor.

The funny thing is that these restrictions on competition are only firmly enforced against those who can afford to pay. The very poor, who are presumably most in need of “protection”, are largely ignored by the professions – who cares if they go to unlicensed witch doctors, or go to jail because they can’t afford a licensed lawyer, or slap up any old shack for themselves and their dozens of children?

Unions

Working class people saw the success that the professions had in protecting their privileges, and decided to join the party by forming unions. However, like the professions, unions managed to get more rights than individuals. Suddenly, as an individual worker in a unionised industry, you were no longer free to negotiate your own working conditions. Employers were no longer free to hire or fire as they saw fit. The market was no longer free to determine wage levels. And we’re all stupid enough to simply put up with this abrogation of our rights.

Politicians

Supposedly, politicians are there to protect our interests, because we’re too stupid to protect them ourselves. But who do they protect our interests from? Why, other politicians, silly!

How do they do this vital protecting? Well, they are no good at fighting (how many politicians do you see in the frontlines of any war?), and they aren’t very smart (if they were, they’d get a real job), and they aren’t even very nice (just look at history). They protect us by passing laws, millions of them, and then try to enforce them. They get together in very grand, very expensive assemblies and they collectively wish for good things to happen, then they write all these wishes down, like children appealing to Santa Claus. But, if we break a single one of their written down wishes, they call out the cops and send us stupid people to jail.

That’s how they protect our interests, but mostly, that’s how they protect their interests.

Government

Politicians give rise to governments, like farts give rise to bad smells. Governments enforce the will of the successful politicians, who are supposedly fulfilling the will of the people.

But governments don’t trust the people they govern, not one little bit. They don’t trust you to pay for their mediocre services, so they tax you upfront before you’ve even had a chance to see what you’re getting. They don’t trust you to choose your own store of wealth, so they force you to use their laughable currency, which they devalue continuously. They don’t trust you to educate your own children adequately, or to drive safely, or even negotiate a decent contract with your employer. And if you don’t do everything exactly the way they say, they punish you severely.

And every now and then, when they really screw up, they will take ALL your money in the form of hyperinflation, all your sons to fight THEIR wars, and ALL your time to pay their taxes. And yet everybody is convinced we need these idiots!

Religions

Religious people think you are too stupid to work out why you’re here, where you came from and where you’re going to end up. Actually, they are right. EVERYONE is too stupid to answer those questions, religious people included. Nevertheless, they will tell you with absolute authority that god is in that rock over there, or this piece of bread over here, and beat you to death if you don’t believe them. They do all this for your own good of course, like all the rest.

Nowadays, many of us tend to take these nutjobs less seriously than in the past, and their power to make our lives miserable has dwindled accordingly. We need to take the same approach with governments, politicians, professionals, etc.

Fanatics

As Churchill once remarked, “A fanatic is someone who won’t change his mind and can’t change the subject.” Fanatics used to be synonymous with religious nutjobs, but have expanded into many other areas recently. Now we have climate fanatics, animal rights fanatics, doomsday fanatics, health fanatics (AIDS, Swine flu), race fanatics, gender fanatics, child abuse fanatics, socialism fanatics, peak oil fanatics, even science fanatics, to name just a few. They are all characterised by an adamant refusal to consider any opinion other than their own, vitriolic attacks on dissenters, an insistence that their crisis is the world’s biggest, and stringent demands for more of your money.

To counter all these fanatics, you MUST constantly repeat the phrase “Nothing is certain”, at least 1,000 times a day. This is the ONLY way to stop these idiots, before they overwhelm our civilisation. Please support this worthy cause with generous donations to The Non-Fanatics Foundation.

Consciousness

You’re conscious, right? You’re reading this, interacting with the world around you, communicating, making an impact, yes? So what’s the problem? Well, there is no way you can actually prove that. There is no reasonable way that you can be sure that you are not dreaming all those sensations, flat on your back in your bed, or suspended in an alien sensory deprivation tank. Your most elementary grip on reality may be a myth. But, you cry, I have memories of the past, plans for the future, the consistency of physics in the present, awareness of others, consciousness! So does a dreamer, a person in a coma, an addict on a drug trip, a patient under anaesthetic.

Despite all our science, and wisdom, and experience, we have no clue as to what the consciousness of a dead person is, or of a tree, or of a rock. In fact, we’re so stupid we can’t even be certain we’re conscious.

Life and death

Life is a miracle. Life is the antithesis of entropy. Life is infinitely precious. How precious? Well, imagine the value, the significance, of the discovery of just one living microbe in the dry, red sands of Mars. It would change our view of the universe for ever.

Life is also fragile, easily extinguished, impossible to retrieve once gone. A smart life form should go out of its way to preserve life, its own and the other life forms around it. But in fact, we live in a maelstrom of death, destroying life as fast as we can find it, from microbes all the way up to each other. This is understandable as conditions on the surface of our planet seem to be unusually conducive to life, leading to serious competition between life forms. But it is not necessarily smart.

Death, or the absence of life, seems to be everywhere. Most of our planet is inanimate, and all of our remaining solar system, and presumably most of our universe. Life, the ability to counter entropy, to assemble rather than to disintegrate, to grow rather than to shrink, this is our most unique characteristic, our reason for existence in an otherwise dead universe.

“Nurture life” would seem to be the closest we can come to an absolute standard of morality, a universal truth. And yet we destroy life with gay abandon, we have wars, and death penalties, our religions glorify death and discount life, we gamble with total annihilation.

How stupid are we?

Sex and violence

Sex is good. It’s fun, you meet new friends, it’s largely harmless, and occasionally it results in adorable new people.

Violence is bad. It’s no fun for most of the people involved, it creates enemies, it’s painful and harmful and sometimes it kills people.

So which do we encourage, in our media, in our sport, in our behaviour, in our children? Violence, of course, because we are so damn stupid. No kiddy cartoon would be complete without a violent, excruciating encounter, no movie for adults is “significant” unless someone gets their face broken. But sex in the media must be reserved for late at nights, must have smutty labels pasted all over it, and is generally frowned upon by ‘respectable’ people.

People who prefer sex to violence are pornographers, dirty old men, perverts, sluts.

People who prefer violence to sex are heroes, soldiers, policemen, pillars of the community, and only occasionally evil.

For a brief period in the sixties a crowd of young people understood this contradiction, and lived the alternative. I believe the Hawaiians lived in harmony with their bodies and with nature long before our narrow-minded ancestors arrived. Western society is slowly moving from its obsession with violent, strong men, and finding inspiration in the beauty of our bodies and their union, despite the best efforts of millions of violent nutjobs.

Nudity

Closely allied to our confusion between sex and violence is our ongoing dislike of the appearance of our own bodies. How dumb is that? We are more horrified by nudity than by the obscenity of violence. Why is the picture of a naked, young and beautiful body considered pornography, and widely prohibited, while the picture of a Vietnamese man having his brains blown out, or an Ethiopian baby on the point of death, is widely displayed for all to view, and considered significant and meaningful.

No one is really bothered by the ongoing mayhem on a rugby field, or in a football stand, but a streaker is instantly tackled, covered, removed and charged. Beautiful women who reveal so much as a nipple on a beach are charged with obscenity, while grossly fat men with bellies hanging over their speedos wander around in full view. Where’s the logic?

Toilet facilities are duplicated at vast expense throughout the world, for what? To avoid the horror of hearing another gender peeing? Surprisingly that pillar of conservative respectability, the McDonalds fast food chain, has twigged to this and now offers unisex toilets in some of their stores. And civilisation as we know it has not crumbled.

Economics

Right now is an unusually good time to reflect on the stupidity of our economic system, and on our own stupidity as players within this system.

There are several concepts that are so obviously flawed, so contradictory, that one can only assume that it is our stupidity that allows them.

Limited liability: you can incur debts, but you don’t have to pay them. Somehow, this is good for the economic system. Duh?

Fractional reserve: you can lend more money than you have. This will never come back to haunt you. Duh?

Paper currency: you give me a Toyota, and I’ll give you some paper with pictures on it, and no other guarantees whatsoever. You’d have to be really stupid, or Japanese, to accept that deal. Duh?

Inflation: as if its not bad enough giving you bits of paper for your cool motor cars, I’m going to give EVERYBODY lots of the same bits of paper, and assume it won’t affect you. Duh?

Bailouts (Keynesian economics): if I print trillions of those bits of paper, somehow this will encourage you to build even more of those Toyotas and stuff that people actually need. Dang, we’re all so stupid this just might actually work!

Happiness

In my opinion (and that of the American Founding fathers), to be happy you need

1. Life (and the means to sustain it),

2. People (whom you trust and love), and

3. Purpose (and the freedom to pursue it).

You do not need great wealth, or privilege and power, or many possessions, or pleasures aplenty.

Life can be sustained with a bare minimum – ask any Bushman or slum dweller. Wealth and power attracts people whom you do not trust or love. The pursuit of pleasure and possessions provides a poor purpose – pleasures pall and possessions pass away. Ideas, music, literature – these are great purposes which are open to anyone.

I suspect that this is why one tends to see more smiles, more laughter, more camaraderie in a slum than in a condominium, more happiness in a workers’ pub than in a fancy restaurant. It seems to me that the rich and powerful are sometimes too stupid to see this.

How to be less stupid

Don’t let people do things to you without your consent.
This may not be simple or easy to achieve, but at least make a start. Understand that nothing is more stupid than being bound by another’s stupidity.
Identify and understand what makes you happy, early in life.
This could save you a great deal of wasted time and effort.
Life is sacred.
Get used to the idea.
Violence is almost always the wrong thing.
There is no one so big you can’t run away from. However, if violence is your only option, its better to win than to lose.
You are your own best judge.
Beware of cheap advice from others – like this essay.
You are not stupid.
I was just kidding – actually, you’re smart and beautiful and sexy.

Things that are not stupid

Life, love, children, great music, good literature, new ideas, our planet, the universe.

Trevor Watkins Tuesday, 27 July 2010

Kite Surfing

2010-04-05T11:06:00.003+02:00

I have always wanted to kite surf. As a long time sailor, this looked like the obvious next step in my evolution of wind-fired vehicles. Watching young kite surfers screaming across the local lagoon and jumping gracefully into the air filled me with envy, and the desire to do the same.

In December 2009 my kids clubbed together to buy me 4 hours worth of kite surfing lessons. The local kite surfing instructor, by the name of Brad, was really busy over the Christmas period, so I waited for his schedule to clear. My first lesson was in early January 2010, and consisted mostly of learning to setup and control the kite, and getting dragged through the sand. This lesson ended well, with only the occasional head-over-heels tumble across the dunes. Then I waited for my second lesson.

One Saturday morning I happened to wander in from the workshop at about 11am, just in time to hear my cellphone stop ringing. I didn't recognise the number, so called it back. It was the famous Brad to say that the conditions were good, could I be on the beach at 12pm? I got down there by 11.30am, and waited for him to arrive right on 12. While waiting I realised I had forgotten to bring water, so shot out to get some for which I was very grateful later.

I setup the kite on the beach under Brad's watchful eye, pumped it up, attached the lines, got into the harness (which is pulled so tight I can hardly breathe). We start off with a couple of sand drag exercises which go well, except for a sudden dive into the dunes (which I still can't quite explain) which punctured the kite. We carried on using the kite, stopping occasionally to pump it up again. I guess that's why the lessons are expensive.

We then moved over to the water (much reduced from the drought), where I started water dragging lessons. This was surprisingly easy, and I was able to maintain the kite in a steady position while being dragged quite quickly through the water. Occasionally I would drag through sandy shallows or thick weed, which was not quite as pleasant, as it tended to drag your pants off. Brad told me he once lost his pants entirely whilekite-surfing, and was obliged to return to the beach naked. You are supposed to be able to beat to windward while dragging by using your body as a kind of centreboard. Not so easy.

Next we practiced restarts of a fallen kite on water. This is much more difficult than on land, since their seems to be a surface tension holding the kite in the water, and you need to move the kite to the edge of the window before launching it. I tried this for awhile, and finally got the kite to launch.

Brad then suggested I keep body dragging through the water til the end of the lesson. I quickly said I wanted to have a go on the board in this lesson, and he somewhat reluctantly agreed, saying we had just 10 minutes. His next lesson had shown up by this stage. Unfortunately my body dragging had ended up about halfway down the lagoon, and we did not hop back up to the shallow area - a fact I later regretted. Brad proceeded to seat my feet on the board - I have very high arches and this required considerable adjustment. To my horror I found that I could not reach the board handle with my feet attached, because of the very tight harness, my large boep and my general stiffness. With suitable grunting and contortions I was finally able to reach, but was not at all sure I could do this in deep water while holding a kite with one hand. Finally I was ready to go.

Against all my previous thinking on the matter (believe me, I was thinking about this a lot) I decided to go for a couple of little test drags with the board, rather than leap in and go for a full launch. The wind had also strengthened considerably by about 2pm now. Brad had explained how to do a power start, but went along with the little test idea. So I pulled off into the relatively deep water, twisting the board this way and that, dragging my heavy body along, but not really coming out of the water. About halfway across I decided this was not going anywhere, and positioned the kite for a power start. Of course, when I executed the start, I was pulled forward (because I wasn't leaning back enough, I presume), rather than up, the board went behind me and was almost immediately pulled off my feet. I managed to control the kite, dragged to shallow water, turned the kite ( a dangerous exercise to be done carefully), and set off to retrieve the board which was nearby, but in deep water. As I concentrated on picking up the board, I stopped concentrating on the kite, which came hurtling down in a vertical dive into the water. Now I am holding the board in one hand, the kite controls in the other, and out of my depth. The kite has landed upside down, which means that the full width of the 9m**2 kite is exposed to the 25 to 30 km/h wind. I am being hauled at considerable speed down the lagoon into the deep channel in the centre, completely out of control. I vaguely notice Brad hopping up and down on the beach and hear him telling me to abandon the board, which I do. I start pulling the cables which are supposed to relaunch the kite, but to no avail. You have to get off to one side to get the wind under an edge, and that wasn't possible from the centre of the channel. I wrestle awhile longer, realise I am rapidly running out of shore to land on, and decide to trigger the emergency release. This releases the kite controls, but keeps you attached to the kite via a leash. Very cleverly, the kite also turns edge on to the wind and stops dragging me so hard. I begin to swim towards the shore, about 30 m off. As Dylan will know, this is about the limit of my swimming distance. Fortunately, I finally get to standing depth and trudge rather embarassedly up to Brad. The guy for the next lesson is a fit young fellow, so I ask him to swim out and retrieve the board, which he kindly does. I pull the kite in, walk back up the beach and hand over to the next lesson. Brad, bless his cotton socks, does not say "I told you so" once, but does suggest a bit more launch practice at the next lesson.

I absolutely loved the lessons, I think I made real progress in controlling the kite, and will probably get up on the board in the next 2 or 3 lessons. I haven't had so much real life excitement, challenge and danger since sailing in a heavy wind. Although my body was telling me that I am old at times, my mind was shouting "Go for it". And I have already dined out on the stories several times.

Memories of a much loved Aunt

2010-02-18T16:13:00.001+02:00

Aunty Myra was the epitome of a favourite aunt. She was cheerful, sweet, sometimes absent-minded, forgiving, but most of all, a lovely and loving person. I always looked forward to going to see Aunty Myra, knowing that I would catch up on all the family news, without any criticisms or complaints. She was wonderfully straight-forward, telling you what she thought, and then leaving you to take it or leave it. Best of all, perhaps, despite being very religious, Aunty Myra was no saint. She enjoyed a good laugh, she had a sharp sense of humour, a strong streak of nonsense and fun.

Having raised 4 children, sometimes in trying circumstances, she had developed a thick skin to protect her from life’s many knocks. Particularly in her younger days, she had also developed a quick temper and a loud voice designed to stop rowdy young boys in their tracks. Visits to Aunty Myra’s house were always events to be looked forward to, even if they were likely to be a bit chaotic.

My family, the Watkins bunch, always used to stop off in Bloemfontein on our way down to the coast. Somehow, Aunty Myra would find a place for all of us to sit and eat and sleep, in amongst babies and nappies and children and husbands. Sometimes I had more fun at the stop-over than on the holiday. It was generally my task to injure Kevin in some new and exciting way, falling off a bike, breaking a window, running through the veld. This tendency persisted even in later life, when Kevin, chaos and I always seemed to go together. Generally, Aunty Myra would berate Kevin, me and anyone close by for being so stupid, then fix up the bleeding knees or whatever, phone the neighbour to apologise, and have forgotten it all by dinner time.

Aunty Myra took a particular interest in the romantic affairs of the family, arranging several critical dates for matric dances and the like. She was convinced I was a “misogynist”, without ever realising that I knew what the word meant, but certain she could cure me. I will always remember her head popping out a door at my mom’s house when Linda and I appeared the morning after our wedding, to see if we were smiling or scowling.

Perhaps my favourite story about Aunty Myra comes from her visit to France on a Lourdes pilgrimage with my mom and Aunty Enid. On Aunty Myra’s recommendation the 3 sisters went to see the newly released movie “Emmanuelle” (a soft porn movie) in Paris, convinced that it had to be a religious movie with a name like that. She never tired of telling us of the awful scenes she was exposed to in watching this movie, but could never convincingly explain why she sat through it right to the end. I think she liked to get her money’s worth.

Aunty Myra lived a full life, the oldest of the Carson family when she died, mother of the most children (as far as I know), and much loved by all. I remember her with much love, and will miss her greatly.

Memories of Jim Harris

2009-12-08T20:26:00.002+02:00

It leaves a physical ache to find myself talking of Jim in the past tense. I have spent so much of my time thinking about what I would say to him next, on this or that subject. I have so many discussions, so many arguments, still to be finalised. I will just have to put them on hold until we meet again, perhaps, at some Omega point in the future.

Jim was a memorable character. So many memories spring to mind:

Wonderful, quirky presentations at seminars – who can forget his famous opening line“This the 2^nd time today I have risen from my seat clutching paper in trembling hand.”

· Extraordinary courage and daring, down caves, up mountains, in the sea, in snake infested barns, in far away places.

· Living his philosophy of freedom, driving fast, treating all road signs as advisory, taking the pettifogging bureaucrats head on in court, telling traffic cops to mind their own business.

· Speaking up, making his opinions heard, and damn the consequences. I have treasured for years his opening statement on a late night, new age radio show – “I have here a list of 200 things in which I do not believe.”

· The fascinating, infuriating debates on so many subjects – hypnosis, capital punishment, homeopathy, economics.

· Jim was a scientist to the core, yet also a good musician and singer, with a wry sense of humour, and a disarming manner. He loved the physical and the mental, science and art, good whisky and bad company. Although he might deny it, he was a veritable renaissance man.

· Jim did not suffer fools gladly. If you said something stupid, he would explain to you in excruciating detail just how stupid you had been, then laugh it all off.

· Jim had a superb intellect, a voracious appetite for the written word, an excellent memory, and a great ability to combine all this when communicating. When we moved away from Gauteng, I found myself referring to Jim and his opinions to new friends at the coast so frequently that they expressed a great interest in meeting him. Sadly, this was not to be.

So how will I remember Jim? He was a short, wiry Scotsman, a considerate host, a loving family man, a good friend. He was intelligent and brave and honest. I have always felt that I was lucky to know him. He has left me with more memories than most other men. Goodbye Jim.

The Consent Axiom

2009-08-01T15:34:00.005+02:00

I believe that the basis for successful human co-existence can be reduced to a single statement, a single concept. This statement is the Consent Axiom:

NO ACTION WITHOUT CONSENT

This statement is as brief and uncompromising as the biblical 5th commandment, “Thou shalt not kill”. Like most 4 word sentences, some further elaboration is required for better understanding.

PRINCIPLE

==========

This statement is a principle. It describes how you ought to behave. It does not proscribe how you will behave. It is not changed by circumstances. It does not vary relative to prevailing conditions. It does not take utility or the greatest good into account. It says that you may take no action against another human being without their full and informed consent. Period.

ACTION

=======

Like Newton, we must define the meaning of the term “action” quite carefully. For an action against another to require the consent of the other, then that action must be immediate in time and space, must have significant consequences for the other, and must have physical reality.

1. IMMEDIATE IN TIME AND SPACE:

the request for consent and the action must be within a reasonable time and distance of each other. Consent given now does not imply ongoing consent into the future. Consent given in one place does not imply consent in all places. Consent for an action is not required from people far removed from the consequences of that action, in space or time.

2. SIGNIFICANT CONSEQUENCES:

daily life involves many actions which have insignificant consequences for those around us, and do not require their consent. These actions are largely covered by the ordinary rules of civility and manners. However, both the action and the predictable consequences of that action must be considered. While a gentle shove at the top of a cliff may not be considered murder, the consequences at the bottom certainly are. I believe you must take responsibility for the immediate but unintended consequences of any deliberate action, even when lawful in terms of the consent axiom.

3. PHYSICAL REALITY:

actions requiring consent must have a physical reality. Looking at someone, talking about or to someone, thinking evil thoughts about them, these actions do not require consent. Screaming in their ear would require their consent.

CONSENT

========

Consent must be

1. Freely given

2. Full and informed

3. Specific

4. Clearly and accurately communicated

5. Applicable only to the individual in question

6. Preferably witnessed

Consent, once given,

1. cannot be changed or revoked

2. Is contractually binding

3. Is limited in time and scope

EXCEPTIONS

===========

The consent axiom only addresses relationships between human beings. Everything else, including animals and the environment are considered as property, either of individuals, or unowned.

Some human beings, such as very young children or the insane or unconscious, are incapable of informed consent. In that case they are considered as the property of a consenting individual, or unowned. If ownership is challenged (by anyone), the decision on ownership must be taken by a duly appointed jury. If an individual is considered unowned, by themselves or by anyone else, then they must rely on the charity and intervention of their peers.

Some actions are considered so overwhelmingly good for society that their performance overrides any individual objections (for example, vaccination, environmental preservation (eg global warming), terrorist apprehension). This argument is inevitably the top of a slippery slope, on which all manner of further consent violations are justified. This argument should be rejected.

In a democracy, the decisions taken by a majority are considered binding on the minority, with or without there consent. In a consenting society this silly concept simply would not apply.

In some cases, such as an accident, a request for consent from the victim has no meaning. In such cases, the person responsible for the accident, even if unintentional, must take responsibility for the consequences of the action precipitating the accident.

Some members of a society may not consent to be bound by the consent axiom and its implications. As described below under disputes, both victim and violator have rights to a trial by jury under the consent axiom. If a non-consenting consent violator gives up that right, then the violator’s guilt must be automatically presumed, and punishment must follow.

AN EXTREME EXAMPLE

====================

Imagine you have spotted a young girl in an Iraqi market wearing an oddly bulging outfit under which you have clearly seen wires and straps. The consent law says you OUGHT to ask her consent, or at least wait until she makes some unambiguous threatening action, before acting. Since the consequences of her threatening action may be coming at you at several thousand feet per second, you may well decide to take pre-emptive action and shoot her first. However, if you do this, YOU must now bear the consequences of your unlawful act (and for the sake of order in society, this must always remain an unlawful act). If the 12 year old girl you shot with little or no warning turns out to be a spina bifida sufferer, with wires and straps up and down her poor tortured body, then you can expect a jury of your peers to be quite harsh. If there was more semtex than child under the robe, you might yet get a medal. Its not fair, its just how it is.

UNINTENDED CONSEQUENCES

==========================

Every action has unpredictable and unintended consequences. Who would have thought the invention of the atomic bomb would ensure world peace for 70 years? Who would have thought a message of love and peace would result in the crusades and the inquisition? Who knows how many deserving microbes you kill every time you breath? Are you responsible for the unintended consequences of your actions? Well, if not you, then who? God? Fate? Both are difficult to sue. I believe you must take responsibility for the immediate but unintended consequences of any deliberate action, even when lawful in terms of the consent axiom. . However, these consequences must be immediate both in time and place.

SOCIETY

========

A consenting society is that group of people who acknowledge and respect the consent axiom as the basis of their social interactions. Members of such a society will understand their mutual obligation to resist and punish consent violations, and to provide jury members for dispute resolutions.

DISPUTES

=========

As with all human endeavours, disputes will arise. I believe that the resolution of these disputes is a task for a jury of your peers when other avenues such as compensation and apology have failed.

The size and composition of the jury must be consented to by both parties to the dispute. If agreement on a jury cannot be reached in a reasonable time (7 days, for example), both sides select six jurors, and a foreman with a casting vote is chosen by random lottery of the jury members. Jury decisions are made by a simple majority vote. Any jury decision may be appealed to another jury until one side or the other has 3 identical decisions in its favour. Thereafter the jury decision becomes binding upon both parties to the dispute, and is added to the set of legal precedents for that society which defines the common law.

THE JURY

=========

The members of the jury alone determine the rules for the hearing. They may be guided by well-established rules of legal procedure and evidence, but they are not bound by it. They may appoint a judge or judges to guide them, they may invite or allow lawyers to represent the parties, they may call witnesses, conduct investigations, seek the opinion of experts, or do whatever is required to reach a decision. They will be funded equally by the parties to the dispute during the hearing, but may finally decide on any allocation of costs they see fit.

Because it is a matter of chance as to which side obtains the casting vote on the jury, it will be important for both sides to select jurors committed to acting on the merits of the case, rather than jurors blindly supporting the side which appointed them. I believe that a class of professional, impartial jurors will arise whose primary asset will be their reputation for fair decisions. This class of jurors will provide the pool from which most parties to a dispute will make their jury selection.

CONSENT VIOLATIONS

====================

If someone does take action without consent, then that action is unlawful and should be punished. Who will punish such a violation? In the first instance, the victim of the violation, if capable, is the most obvious candidate for exacting judgement and punishment. The punishment may vary from an apology, or compensation, through to capture and removal from the consenting society. Failing this, in the second instance, members of the victim’s social network, such as family, friends and colleagues will assist in exacting judgement and punishment against a consent violator. If this second group is not capable, then in the final instance, the unrelated members of the consenting society must take responsibility for the consent violation, as a cost and obligation that they bear by virtue of their membership of that society. It is likely that formal structures, such as police forces and judiciaries, would be setup by most societies to fulfil this obligation, funded by consenting members of that society.

It is likely that any response by a victim or society against a consent violator may not enjoy the violator’s consent. In this case, the original violator may declare a dispute and the matter would be decided by a jury, as described above. In other words, responses to consent violations are themselves subject to the consent axiom, and must not violate a jury’s sense of reasonableness.

PUNISHMENT

============

What punishments may a jury impose on a convicted consent violator? It is my belief that a jury may impose any punishment it pleases (subject to later appeal), except one. A jury may not decide to take the life of any individual under any circumstance. Generally, a jury would be guided by existing precedents for crimes and punishments.

My personal suggested scale of punishments is as follows:

* Apology - the violator apologises to the victim

* Compensation - the violator compensates the victim

* Humiliation - the violator is humiliated before the victim and society

* Incarceration - the violator’s freedom of movement is restricted for a period

* Removal - the violator is removed from the society, by exile or internal imprisonment

MORALITY

==========

Morality arises from choice, not coercion. I believe there are discoverable "absolute" moral values. Such an absolute value would optimise the success (survival, comfort, wealth, happiness) of its adherents in the majority of environments, whether they be humans, microbes or aliens from Alpha Centauri. I believe the consent axiom represents such an absolute moral value or proposition.

For example, it has been shown mathematically using game theory that the optimum strategy for survival in a competitive environment is the so-called "tit for tat" strategy. Both the "trust everyone" and "trust no one" strategies are inferior.

CONCLUSION

============

I would describe the consent axiom as the definition of a minimum ethical consensus. It is that smallest set of ethical considerations on which a useful number of individuals may agree, which are nevertheless sufficient for producing a peaceful and productive society.

The implications of this axiom incorporate most libertarian beliefs in a non-contradictory manner, viz

* Prohibition on the initiation of violence (unless consented to eg in contact sports)

* Property rights

* Contracts

* Appropriate response to violations

* Primacy of the individual

* Dispute resolution

* Limits on governments and groups

* Freedom of speech and belief

The consent axiom here described says that the rights of the individual are paramount, but that disputes between individuals must be resolved by a group.

SOME DEFINITIONS (FROM WIKIPEDIA)

===================================

BELIEF is usually defined as a conviction of the truth of a proposition without its verification; therefore a belief is a subjective mental interpretation derived from perceptions, contemplation(reasoning), or communication.

An AXIOM is a sentence or proposition that is not proved or demonstrated and is considered as obvious or as an initial necessary consensus for a Theory . Therefore, it is taken for granted as true, and serves as a starting point for deducing and inferencing other (theory dependent) truths.

RIGHTS serve as rules of interaction between people, and, as such, they place constraints and obligations upon the actions of individuals or groups. A right does not represent a guarantee, a surprising mistake made by many. A right is an agreement amongst humans - one has no rights relative to gravity. Rights may come into conflict, in which case a mechanism is needed for resolving the conflict.

Socialism vs Capitalism

2009-06-06T21:54:00.004+02:00

I recently asked a friend if he could think of 5 reasons why socialism was better than capitalism. He replied as follows:

Socialism is by far the world's most successful idea. [Socialist] governments everywhere out-perform all other organisations (churches, clubs, co-ops, companies, partnership, owner-enterprises, traditional communities etc) by a massive margin judged according to all standard criteria for success. They are bigger, grow faster, employ more people, have more powerful, popular and influential leaders, accumulate more capital, never go under (regardless of how good or bad current managers are), generate more money etc etc.
That's more than 5, but there's more. They treat more patients, make more roads, give more housing to the homeless, teach more kids (after a fashion) and settle more legal disputes.
More than 5 again, and there's still more: Socialism does more for 'creative' arts, funds more research-as-an-end-in-itself, employs more academics, especially in social science and divinity, and supports more expeditions to weird places.
And there's more and more and more. By far the most impressive thing about socialism, what it does better than capitalism with by far the biggest margin, is generate revenue. As if that's not sufficient for a fatal knock-out blow against capitalism, it manages to do so despite providing notoriously shoddy service. It's better without limit.
Small wonder 80% of the public vote for it (to a greater or lesser extent) and idolise its leaders.

Socialism is a truly awesome system. It beats capitalism hands down, no contest. The really tough question is whether you can think of 5 things capitalism does better than socialism.

I responded as follows:

1. Capitalism is honest.

2. Capitalism is moral.

3. Capitalism reflects reality.

4. Capitalism is consistent.

5. Capitalism is efficient.

All these propositions are intertwined, as such value statements invariably are. I guess they could all be summarised in the single statement that Capitalism is moral, but morality is a minefield.

I justify these statements as follows:

Honesty. Unlike socialism, capitalism does not make promises that its adherents know cannot be fulfilled. It does not (or should not) promise universal wealth, happiness and fulfillment. It does not even promise fairness, or sympathy, or mercy, or forgiveness. It promises only the iron rule of the market. You will be rewarded only to the degree to which you provide a service to others. Effort, intention, beauty, genius are no guarantee of success. Poverty, need, desire, tragedy are no guarantee of support. Laziness, stupidity, greed are no guarantee of failure. Provide a desirable product or service, and you will prosper. Fail to do so, and you may perish. No wonder capitalism is a hard sell.
Morality. If you define morality as respect for life and property and contract and freedom of choice, then capitalism is moral, and socialism is immoral. Capitalism does not require human sacrifices, nor does it require theft, nor does it require coercion. Each human being is treated as a sacred individual. No demand is made against any individual for any greater good. Goods are always to be exchanged with mutual consent. An individual's choice is never constrained by another, but only by circumstances. The fact that capitalist morality results in service to others, prosperity for many, resources for the suffering, education for the masses, these are all indirect consequences of a particular world view. The fact that capitalist morality results in vast concentrations of wealth, in huge disparities between rich and poor, in the abject failure of those unwilling or unable to provide a useful service, these are also indirect consequences of this particular world view. All systems have benefits and costs. However, only some are moral.

If you define morality as fairness, equity, safety, protection of the weak, community before individual interests, then capitalism is not moral, but socialism is. However, this socialist morality and the capitalist morality are incompatible. The socialist morality cannot be achieved without sacrificing the fundamental tenets of the capitalist world view. But the capitalist morality is not incompatible with the socialist morality, it just does not demand it. Capitalist individuals may choose to promote fairness, equity, community, using their own resources, without ever coming into conflict with their basic capitalist principles, while socialists cannot.
Reality. People seek their own interests first. With very few exceptions, this is the reality. Then they seek the interests of their family, their local community, their country, and finally, the interests of the broader humanity. Socialism attempts to reverse this order. It is unrealistic, and it predictably fails to change human nature.
Consistent. Capitalism does not ask one thing of some people, and a different thing of others. It does not have one rule for when you are poor, and another for when you are rich. It does not require any judgements as to who are poor, or in need, or more deserving, and another set of judgements as to who are rich, who must sacrifice their lives and property for others. Capitalism asks only that you respect the life, property and choices of others, and the contracts you make with them. It is silent on everything else.
Efficient. Individuals disposing of their own resources tend to do so more efficiently than individuals or groups disposing of the resources of others. This is a reality. This reality leads to a more efficient use of resources generally, and the consequent prosperity of associated communities. Prosperous communities tend to have more resources available for activities like charity, education, healthcare, the arts, etc. They also tend to have more resources available for pleasure and thrill seeking, mindless entertainment, habitat destruction, etc. Capitalism has nothing to say about how the benefits of its greater efficiency may ultimately be used.

None of the above guarantees the success of capitalism as a world view. It is based on the primacy of the individual - by definition the least powerful component of any society. It is easily overwhelmed by larger groups with a common purpose. It requires the constant agreement of all participants to abide by a common set of rules. It is easily undermined by unscrupulous people involved in secret agreements. It is hardly ever allowed to flourish in its purest form.

So capitalism remains an ideal to strive towards, a better way for men and women to live together. Despite the many successes you list for socialism, capitalism is RIGHT.

I also believe that the efficiency of capitalism is not its greatest virtue. Many other systems are as efficient, or more so, such as an autocracy. Even socialism accomplishes many of its more respectable objectives, as you describe, if at the expense of morality. I believe that the advantage of capitalism is its honesty, integrity, realism, and consistency. That is how we should sell it.

Choice and Consequences

2009-05-05T10:13:00.002+02:00

Tomorrow we South Africans elect Jacob Zuma as our president. Then we must all live with the consequences of this collective act of idiocy. We are electing to the highest office a man who is accused of

Killing
Torture
Rape
Fraud
Corruption

And hoping for the best. We are electing a man with a primary school education, 5 wives, and a modest ability to dance to run the affairs of state of the most powerful country on this continent.

But who is “we”? “We” is the 11,650,748 people who, with full knowledge and forethought, chose for the 4^th time in succession the ANC brand that Jacob Zuma represents. They cannot claim that this was a once off aberration. They cannot claim they did not know what they were getting into. Fifteen years is long enough for anyone to reach a conclusion.

Like the Americans who voted for Bush, the Zimbabweans who voted for Mugabe, the Germans who voted for Hitler, and the Afrikaners who voted for Malan and Verwoerd and Vorster and Botha, you get what you choose. And history counts the cost. Perhaps 5 years from now it will be as hard to find a South African who voted ANC as it is to find one who voted Nat, or a German who voted for Hitler.

Perhaps the man will be a great success. Perhaps he will break the mould. Perhaps pigs will fly. After all, swine flu. But would you bet money on a horse that has Zuma for a jockey? Would you put money into a company run by a man with his record? Would you leave your daughter alone in his room? Eleven million would, and it is they who must answer for the consequences. And they will.

Demand a citizens' recall

2009-01-22T12:36:00.004+02:00

Who is accountable for the mess South Africa is in today? Nobody! That’s our problem. We have very limited mechanisms for holding the incompetents and crooks accountable, so our problems continue and escalate. Our much touted constitution has let the people of South Africa down badly in the area of official accountability.

As a citizen you get ONE chance every FIVE years to hold the current government responsible for EVERYTHING they have done, good, bad, and forgotten. That is such a dumb system I am amazed that anyone can be persuaded to fall for it. Can you imagine if a supplier like Pick 'n Pay opened its complaints department for ONE complaint per person, once every 5 years? Can you imagine a business that allowed its shareholders to vote only once in 5 years?

Accountability is essential for good governance. The success of America, it has been said, was built on two words - “You’re fired.” In much the same vein, Dr Samuel Johnson said “Nothing concentrates the mind like the threat of a good hanging.” If we are even remotely serious about improving our country, fighting corruption and crime, delivering services, then we must start holding the officials responsible for these tasks accountable to the people who elect and pay them. This is simply done. You don’t need to setup a conference, or hold a commission of enquiry, or hire extra consultants. Just implement the concept of a “Citizens’ Recall”.

Many states in the U.S. allow a citizens’ recall, under varying conditions, although there is no federal equivalent. Arnold Schwarzenegger became Governor of California after his predecessor was successfully recalled by popular vote. No politician or civil servant can feel safe in office, protected for at least 5 years, when faced with the threat of a citizens’ recall. In our recent past, the president of South Africa was recalled, not by popular vote, but by political skulduggery. Nevertheless, the sky did not fall in, there was no more chaos than usual. A replacement was found, and the business of government continued. In fact, our democracy improved as a direct result of this recall. And, by all accounts, so did our governance.

I propose the following plan for a citizens’ recall in South Africa:

1. Any elected official or civil servant paid from taxes is subject to recall.

2. In the event of a successful recall, as defined below, the recalled official is immediately removed from office. A recall is a punishment for an official judged to be incompetent by a significant number of the citizens who pay the official’s salary. The official receives one month’s salary in lieu of notice, only. The official is not placed on suspension, there is no appeal, no labour or other employment regulations apply, no prior contractual agreements may be invoked. The effect, for legal purposes, is as if the official had died in office.

3. For an elected official, a recall succeeds if the number of recall ballots exceeds 25% of the votes cast for that official in the last election. A by-election will be called to replace the recalled official. The recalled official may not stand in this by-election.

4. For an official elected by proportional representation, the number of votes cast for that official is calculated as the total number of votes cast for the official’s party divided by the number of officials actually elected. For example, if party X receives 100,000 votes, resulting in 10 officials getting elected, then the votes cast per official is deemed to be 10,000, and the recall target is 25% of 10,000, or 2,500.

5. For an appointed civil servant, the recall succeeds if the number of recall ballots exceeds 10% of that official’s basic monthly salary in Rands, before any extras or incentives. The official may not re-apply for the same position.

6. A recall ballot may be initiated by any South African citizen against any specific official.

7. Any South African citizen who is eligible to vote (name appears on the voters roll) may vote on a recall ballot.

8. A citizen may vote on an authorised ballot issued by the initiator of the ballot, at any state office (Post Office, SARS, Home Affairs, Police Station, etc), through ATMs managed by participating banks, through an authorised website, or by cellphone sms to an authorised service provider.

9. In all votes the voter’s identity will be confirmed and will be validated against the voters roll, as for any ordinary election. Thereafter, the vote will be anonymous (i.e no record of the identity of the voters on a ballot is kept.) Only one vote per citizen per ballot is allowed.

What would be the effect of instituting a citizen’s recall? The performance of every government official from the humblest to the mightiest, would be subject to review, not by a toothless audit committee, nor a bunch of like-minded cronies, nor loyal members of the official’s own party, nor an equally incompetent boss, but by an independent group of citizens interested only in getting value for their hard-earned tax rands. The civil servants would quake in their boots. They would wet themselves. They would instantly focus on how to please their constituents, instead of their boss, or their party. They would know that corruption and incompetence could actually cost them a seat on the gravy train. They might even start serving the community instead of themselves.

Would this lead to chaos in a civil service already stretched to breaking point? Would civil servants leave government employ in droves? Would the unions never allow it? It is the incompetent time-servers already in government who are responsible for the current crisis. Getting rid of them could only improve the situation, like removing poison from your body. South Africa’s problem is unemployment - there are literally millions waiting for a chance to prove themselves by taking over the jobs of departing civil servants. Even if the new guys are useless, at least we now have a mechanism for sorting the wheat from the chaff. Of course the unions would oppose such a proposal. They oppose anything that threatens their comfortable stranglehold on the country and the economy. But nothing worthwhile is achieved without effort.

As a South African citizen, your one chance in 5 years to make your voice heard is here now! For a few brief months all the politicians are actually listening to what you have to say. Use this rare opportunity to insist that you will only vote for a party that supports the concept of a citizens’ recall.

Joko Man

2008-07-07T14:25:00.004+02:00

This piece is by another daughter.

It is quite difficult to look him in the eyes – one stares to the left, the other dead ahead. The best you can hope to do in a brief moment, is look him in which ever one is facing you at that point in time. That’s all you get to try – a brief moment.

Johannesburg is a city of spinning wheels. The smell of sticky hot tyres skidding on tarmac, and the accompanying honking express a constant inner panic over lost time. We are a society negotiating expertly constructed traffic jams and less expertly piled-up fender-benders, with a morbid fascination in anything that stops for longer than a second on the road. Because if it stops, it is probably broken.

Broken tyres, broken windscreens. Bent bumpers, bust-up side doors. Bleeding heads, battered bodies, separated from each other by blunt force. Or by the sharpness of broken glass, smoking and glittering in the hi-veld sun. We crawl then, our time constraints reneged - the excuse to come, “there was an accident – traffic blocked up for miles”, while we gawk and gasp our way through the wreckage.

We hate the traffic – yet at the end of the day, that is where we find our communion with each other. We go together from the city, some of us charitably, some like loaded guns. We go together in worship of a system we like to call progress and we go very, very slowly. We try to make the best of it by calling friends, cutting off our neighbours, listening to the news on the radio, pulling a finger at the guy behind us, singing along to a CD and swearing at the taxi drivers.

And because we spend so much time on the road in our cars, small business has followed us there. Complete with special deals, discounts, bulk buying, bartering, and outright begging, the street market jostles with the traffic for its share of the road. The middle line is staked out as prime territory.

The code of conduct is: hands out, windows up, limp along, look the other way. It’s accepted roadside etiquette, occasionally broken (often enough to keep it there) by the transfer of silver across the breach.

As Night is gently falling closed on the rest of the city, the gate pulls tight behind you, and you have finished your laps for the day. Tomorrow will be the same.

Unless you are taking Cedar Road out of the city through Fourways, past Dainfern and on to the Lion Park road. It would be an obscure route and direction for most of us to head unless we are breaking out for Sun City, heading for the mountain biking at Northern Farms or the private school, Heron Bridge College. I used to come up to the T-junction on Hans Strydom extension frequently when traveling to Woodmead High School (another time and story), and that was where we discovered him. He is still there today (2008), doing what he does.

At first, we would approach the intersection with some alarm – there is a commotion of a creature, face and hands outstretched indicating human origin. The rest is a leaping, cardboard construction of ridiculous proportions for this sedate stretch of road. Is it a hijacking? Another lone crazy with concealed weapon, or perhaps a slightly more rabid beggar somewhat off the usual path?

But he is none of these. His hands do not stretch out for cash or control of your car. In fact his hands would stretch out whether you were there or not. He is merely stretching – himself, the landscape around him and your perceptions if you let him. He is not asking for change, he is personifying it.

Joko Man. That is what we call him, because it is a nice pun and pulls insistently on the essence of what we (my family) would like to believe he is. A Joke – quizzically constructed, and pointing in whichever direction either of his eyes may be looking. Jokes are an indication of the type of thinking going on in a society – they are mental pressure valves whereby we may lose some of the frustration that builds up through the constant cognitive friction. Every now and again it is vital to come across something that blows us sideways in our perception of the world, a situation or a person. Otherwise we tend to blow up, out of all proportion.

At first we couldn’t figure out the cardboard sign he held – a series of stick drawings – a bird, a car, the BMW symbol. And scrawled on the one side, “Joko”. The more we tried to catch the joke, the slipperier it got. What was the punch line? Where we too smart or too stupid to get it?

Then one day, truth dawned – there alongside him in the grass, someone’s rubbishy tribute to the side of the road jumped out at me. “Joko Tea” – a red and white box. His sign was a portrait - in pictures and words - of his surrounds. Smile for an eternal signature as you drive by. Nowhere was there plea or persuasion. Just art for art’s sake. But we gave him a few bucks anyway. And we held our hands out first.

His sign wasn’t the only aspect showing in this revolving open gallery. On his head was the most marvelous contraption wrought in cardboard – a “Capitan” Hat, a streetwelded crown extending half a meter all round.

There he stood for a week or two in this guise, come rain come shine, till the cardboard sogged off and new attire was acquired. Joko man became a never-ending fascination – magician of endless entertainments pulled from fresh air. Each week he would be there, sometimes bouncing, sometimes dancing, sometimes simply running on the spot, but always moving. Still, he would only stretch out his hand for change, once we had wound down the window and extended our hands out towards him.

I always wondered how he handled the heat – some deeply advanced mind trick perhaps. Inhabiting every item of clothing he could possibly own, and the local embellishments of cardboard, plastic and can, he was impossible to gauge in girth. This was in the heat of the summer day, when all I could manage was shorts and a T-shirt at a push.

For the next exhibition, he built a cardboard palace that rather too closely (to the uneducated or worse, the unconvinced) resembled the shack shelters of Diepsloot a few km’s away. The local farmer tore it down; I’m sure with some indignation at the trouble he had to go to, to maintain sanity in the face of Art. So Joko Man built it back with string – an invisible palace, laced through the long grass and the nearby trees. This one eventually blew away.

I once saw him dancing in the rain – his eyes looked a little more desperate that day as he jumped and swayed his arms with the little energy he had left. I was the only car for miles, but he looked like he had been at it all day. I could see him from way off, despite the grey and he neither sped up nor slowed down as I approached him then receded back into the distance.

When I took the photo, I felt like after all this time of watching him I had finally intruded. This time I had tried to take something from him that he wasn’t entirely willing to give – his soul or perhaps his transience. His ability to change, to dissolve and reappear – his self-appointed task to be different - quite why, his own mystery. Perhaps it’s the same reaction you would get if you walked into a gallery and snapped pics to take home. I tried to understand too hard, and froze a moment in colours that didn’t quite bounce as much as they should. My art in response to his was trite and contrived - framed.

And I learned a difference between the Joko Man and me.

He is content within his intrigue, and doesn’t give a damn whether I understand, or if I give him something or if the weather is bad. Or even if I have attributed him a name he doesn’t know. That is his job for the day. Me, I struggle with who I am, at my PC, on the road, in the traffic. An endless engine whining why…

Maybe at the end of the day, this fine gent of the corner is just another sad case of insanity waiting to be led away. Maybe it simply hasn’t occurred to him to do anything but leap and sing and dance in the street. It could be possible that his dress-up parade of an existence is nothing more than that – a mind expending energy in the only way open to it. But still, that is not what I seem to find when I get up a bit closer. He is certainly of manic description, but he does not come across as wasting time. I can’t entirely fathom his purpose – but he certainly has one. Something I’m not too sure I can say for myself with as much throaty conviction.

He has chosen such a random spot that no one else inhibits his space. He won’t invite you – to join him, to look or to give him money or pity. He won’t even notice you unless you ask him too. He is utterly individual and utterly alone. He doesn’t need anybody. He is a walking provocation.

It is a fortunate day when you get to drive by him there, though your fortune will depend more on how much you are willing to see than whether he will be there. He mostly is.

In my comfortable car and nice dry clothes with no cardboard to draw on, I find myself respectful of the dignity – the hopping, skew-eyed, rough coated essence of dignity – that the Joko Man holds up for us in the street. The Joko Man does not smile – he is a grim dancer, - but he makes me smile. He makes me pensive, he makes me slow down, and if it’s a good day, he hands out change.

He is free.

Only money dreams

2008-07-03T13:51:00.003+02:00

This post was written some time ago by my daughter. I'm so glad I didn't know about it at the time.

I have a friend who is a human chameleon, capable of blending in anywhere. Raised in Lesotho, Max is fluent in both Sotho and English, giving him a passport across most racial barriers. Late one summer night, Max and I sat discussing the great divide between rich and poor in a sleepy bar on 7^th street. The Melville buzz had long since fizzled out, and chairs were being inverted on tables when we finally emerged back onto the street. A vendor, bearing a box of sweets to disguise his actual trade, came rambling towards us in a manic mixture of rap and begging, his eyes dancing in their sockets. Without hesitation, Max cupped his hands over his mouth and replied in a string of guttural beats. For a second, the Sweet Man’s eyes stopped dancing, recognizing a language his marinated mind could understand. In the next instant, Max and the Sweet Man were in the middle of the street, Max beat-boxing so hard he was bent double; the Sweet Man rapping us into his world. Abruptly, a young black man standing on the side of the road tried to interject his own impromptu rap. His talent however, was less innate, and his eyes tightened with panic as he ran out of rhyming words, bringing the performance to an awkward end. Leaping to his rescue came an improbable friend: a wild haired Afrikaans hippy, whose dilated eyes and slurring speech were testament to his fondness for the Herb. Smiling goofily, he drawled “Like, wow, that was schweet man! Like, we’re going to a party man! Like, do you wanna come – there’ll be like booze and weed and anything you want man!” Eager for his next adventure, and disregarding my concerns, Max gladly accepted, heading off down the street before I could object. To proud to show my fear, I trotted on behind them. The hippy informed us that we just needed to stop for “supplies” before the party, which seemed odd since we were headed into the darkness, away from the lights which might have sold us drinks or drugs.

Suddenly, we stopped.

In a fence I had walked the length of many times, a hole I had never noticed appeared. As we climbed through one by one, the Bad Rapper made a comment that condensed my fears to terror. “Now just let us do the talking. These are people who would kill you for a coke.” Despite my bewilderment, Max seemed unphased. He strode across the abandoned tennis court after them like he was off to visit his grandparents. A second warning sounded back to me in the almost pitch blackness: “You’ll want to hold your breath now, trust me!” A mixture of curiosity and concern held my nostrils open to the gut turning assault of rank human faeces that followed. Restraining dry-wretches, I tumbled up a rough path to a small abandoned house, which again, I had never noticed. An abandoned school, I think. I raced forward to grab Max’s hand, my pride now turned to unbridled horror at where we were going, and desperate for some stay to keep me upright. As we crossed the threshold, we were plunged into absolute darkness. Forced to feel the walls to find my way, my fingers were greeted with rough, deteriorating bricks coated in damp grime. A heady stench choked the black space, reeking of sweat, smoke and faeces. As we rounded a corner, the flickering light of a fire danced off the walls. We stepped into a room filled with men. Some sat around a large fire on the floor. Some slept on the floor and benches. Dozens of young children scuttled across the room, sucking on fruit juice boxes like they were ventilators on which their lives depended. I stepped into another universe – one which I had failed to notice for years; one which I suspected existed, but never truly comprehended.

The sudden presence of three white people, one of them a girl, shocked the room to silence, leaving only snores, coughs, and wood smoke to fill the air. I realized that I was too far in to run now, and squeezed Max’s hand so that he wouldn’t feel me shake. The silence was broken by a sudden outburst from a tiny boy. His finger came up, wagging centimeters from my nose. He screamed unintelligible abuse at me, venting his anger at my good fortune. Max turned and sharply reprimanded him in Sotho. The boy shrank like a cowed dog, reducing his assault to a pitiful whimper. When Max turned away, he would swell with new anger, but retreat again at a glance from Max. Max’s introduction assured him instant respect as a brother, and he received no hostility. I, however, being female, well dressed and utterly English could feel glares bristling towards me. Max took a seat by the fire with our two guides, whilst I stood awkwardly behind him. At that point, the circle seemed to forget my existence, and I was allowed to witness their ceremony of poverty like a fly on the wall. A tattered joint materialized and started its way around the circle. Taking a deep hit, the hippy began his sermon to the circle. “I am a genie” he announced “but not the kind of genie you have heard of.” I wasn’t sure how many of his audience had heard of any kind of genie. “I am the kind of genie that makes you make your wishes come true.” He turned to a boy leaning against the wall, and asked what his wish was. As he opened his mouth, the preconception I was not aware I had constructed crumbled. He sat upright, and in excellent English replied “I wish I could sort myself out and get the hell out of this place.” He told the genie that he was a musician, a rapper, and that he wanted to become a successful artist. The genie launched into an ambitious plan to convert the schoolhouse into a club where he could perform, but the emptiness of the idea showed in the boy’s eyes like a dying flame.

Not to dampen the mood, the genie moved on to the next person. He wore the reflective vest of a car guard. “What is your dream?” Anger rushed into the car guard's eyes. “I don’t dream” he insisted, his voice rising “I can’t afford to dream. I have to survive; I don’t have anything to dream about. Only money dreams. Without money, there are no dreams!” The reality of his statement sank into the sudden silence in the room, and I tried to hold the rush of tears that were brimming in my eyes. My tears would mean nothing to him. They would be cried for me, and I deserved no such luxury. The genie began to ramble on about how we all had to dream, but his words fell flat against the resignation on the car guard’s face.

The small boy who had screamed at me earlier dashed across the circle to catch the last embers of the trailing joint. As he sucked, the hippy turned to him. “What is your wish?” he asked, and his accomplice translated. Another hysterical scrambled babble spilt from his lips, translated to “Your jersey”. The boy’s fingers stretched for the Khaki zip-up sweater the Hippy was wearing. “Fine” said the hippy, unzipping the jersey and handing it over. “Now find yourself a better dream.” The child didn’t hear him. He had buried his face in the gift, and was screaming in hysterical delight.

I had become so entranced in the unfolding events, that I had forgotten my wariness, and was now racked with enormous sorrow and terrible contradictions. I felt like an insult, standing there in my big leather boots and beautiful black trench coat, my wallet and credit card concealed within. I felt like my clean skin and washed hair must be offensive in this place. In my world, the right of admission was not reserved for these people, and my admission into their world was uninvited. Tomorrow, if I made it to tomorrow, I would pass these very people on the street, begging for change. Tomorrow, hundreds like me wouldn’t notice their begging, or their desperation, or this house. My own hypocrisy came rushing down on me like a curtain. What could I do, but stand and smile coyly at the glaring faces with which I could not empathize. Never have I felt more alien.

As the hippy continued his sermon, the atmosphere grew tenser. The congregation was becoming weary of empty advice. Finally, Max decided it was time to leave. He bid his farewell, thanked them for the joint, and strode coolly for the exit. Some of the residents joined us as we walked back across the tennis court, this time holding our breaths. One of them was the boy who had spoken first: the rapper. He told me his name was Tsamayi, meaning “To go”. He had come from the Orange Free State to study at Wits. He had a matric, and his proud family had saved money for him to come to Joburg to study. On the taxi ride to Joburg he was attacked, stripped of all his possesions, and abandoned. With no money, no clothes, and no place to sleep, he had been forced to take to the streets. When he found “the House”, it came as a blessing. It was a refuge where all were equal, starving and desperate. What resources were brought home were shared, willingly or by force. There was shelter and warmth, and access to drugs which made the world’s edges less rough. Tsamayi had become a dealer himself, to keep himself fed and clothed. But, he continued, the house was also an anchor that held him to his plight. Any indication that he was prospering more than the others would be beaten out of him. He had to conceal his income, and sleep clutching his few possessions. If he was seen in wealthy company, he would suffer for it on his return. The House ran on fundamental communism.

Whilst I stood talking to Tsamayi, a boy came hurtling down the road, with a man in a car in furious pursuit. As he raced passed, he yelled out that his wallet had just been stolen. Tsamayi frowned, commenting that this was a habit of that particular boy. Max wandered up the road to check out the action, whilst I remained with Tsamayi. I no longer felt threatened. Tsamayi volunteered to recite one of his raps for me. He started to beat out lines, poetic but rough like the street culture they were spawned from. They described the artist, wealthy and famous, giving thanks for his humbling time as a beggar, which now made the lights seem that much brighter. It was heartrendingly optimistic, given the circumstances.

We never got to the “party”. We eventually walked home at 4.30 in the morning. I stood up an hour later to take Max to the airport for his flight home to Cape Town. I didn’t sleep for another three days, my mind reeling uncontrollably at the reality that had crept into my relatively fairytale life. I learned a new understanding of my country. Not one of quaint ethnicity or ancient tradition, but one of the unbearable distance between poor and less poor, relative to the distance between rich and richer. I recognized that these people owe us nothing. We do not earn their respect, so why should they regret stealing our TVs? We can, and do, just buy new ones. We complain about their squalor, but deny them entry to our bathrooms. What option is there in their Catch 22 besides bitterness, crime and juice boxes of glue?

How, how on earth, do we change this?

Mzansi fo sho!

2008-06-30T11:31:00.003+02:00

There have been 3 great trends in South African politics in the last 200 years. Firstly there was colonial rule, mainly by the British, mainly through force, mainly promoting English interests. Then there was Afrikaner rule for about 40 years, mainly promoting Afrikaner interests. Now, for the last 14 years, there has been African rule, mainly promoting African interests. One can only assume that the Coloureds and Indians and Chinese are all eagerly awaiting their turn.

Despite claims to the contrary, we have never had South African rule, promoting the interests of all South Africans, independent of colour, conviction and creed. The Afrikaners and Africans have successfully hijacked the helm of the country through their powerful appeal to their own special interest groups - many people were willing to live and die for the advancement of THEIR race and culture. Fierce nationalist pride is fine in a homogenous country like France, but in a melting pot of competing cultures like South Africa it keeps us constantly on the edge of civil war.

For South Africa to achieve its full potential in the global market, we must stop fighting each other for the last remnants of the colonial pie, and start cooperating to claim more of the huge global opportunities that await. As a country we need a whole new mindset, an instant divorce from the baggage of our past, a common will to reclaim our future. But how do we go about achieving this?

First off, I think we need a new name. Our current label - South Africa - is simply a location reference, a spot on the map, a memory-jogger for the geographically challenged. It says where we are, not who we are. The name "South Africa" certainly has a history, but does it have a future? Only 7 other countries out of 245 include a point of the compass in their name, and generally that is to distinguish themselves from the other half of the country whom they hate (North and South Korea, East Timor, Northern Cyprus, Western Sahara). I suggest that the new, united, non-racial South Africa should be called Mzansi - a name with which we are already familiar, but which has no baggage that I am aware of. I suggest that people from Mzansi should be called the Mzaan - the special ones.

To be an Mzaan you must satisfy certain criteria:-

If you are an Mzaan, you are no longer an African, or an Afrikaner, or an Englishman, or an Indian. When asked on official documents for your race, you fill in MZAAN.
If you are an Mzaan, you do not ask for nor expect special treatment from your fellow Mzaan by virtue of your former status, however exalted or disadvantaged. Mzaan are neither beggars nor kings.
If you are an Mzaan, you do not have more or fewer rights because you are employed or unemployed, male or female, young or old, gay or straight, black or white, rich or poor. All Mzaan have the same rights., like it says in the constitution.
If you are an Mzaan, you do not let your fellow Mzaan starve, or freeze, or die without care. Mzaan look after each other.
If you are an Mzaan, you do not rob or rape or murder your fellow Mzaan. If a fellow Mzaan is attacked or in need, you come to his or her aid. You help capture the criminals who are destroying Mzansi. If you are convicted of a crime, you are no longer an Mzaan until you have repaid your debt.
If you are an Mzaan, you stand up for your fellow Mzaan. You fight together against the tyranny of politicians, powerful interest groups, bureaucratic structures, that seek to surround the Mzaan with laws and taxes and tariffs for their own benefit.

Let it be said of the Mzaan, as it was said of the early Christians, “Look how much they love one another”.

Secondly, I think we need a new political party - The Mzansi Party. The current political parties are identified with and represent the interests of their specific group. All claim to be broadly South African, to garner votes from the gullible, but quickly implement policies which favour their chosen group. The Mzansi party will draw its membership from all who believe in individual freedom and common brotherhood. It will exclude those who believe in special privilege by virtue of race or history or wealth. It will encourage prosperity for all, by rewarding energy and competence and skill, instead of just envying it. It will seek to raise up the poor, to give them work and pride and income, as respected fellow Mzaan, rather than simply throwing money at them like beggars.

Thirdly, I think we need a new leadership, and a new system for selecting leaders. We need leaders who do not want the job, who take on the role with regret, and are pleased to pass the burden of leadership onwards as soon as possible. We need men like Thomas Jefferson, who gave up his leadership role when he had accomplished his purpose. As South Africans, we have been immensely lucky to have had men like F W de Klerk, who knowingly planned his own demise, like Nelson Mandela, who perhaps relinquished the role of leader too soon, and like Desmond Tutu, who has never aspired to political leadership, but has been the questioning conscience of our democracy.
Two thousand years ago the Romans understood the problems of selecting worthy leaders. The consuls who ruled Rome were elected for a period of one year only. There were always 2 consuls, and they had to reach consensus before any new law could be submitted to the senate. This system served the Romans well for many hundred years, failing only when the ego of Julius Caesar overcame the wisdom of the republic. Perhaps Mzansi should also aspire to have more leaders for less time and with less power.

Our great democratic experiment is in serious danger of imploding. We could so easily become just another African tragedy, a bunch of warring cultures imprisoned together by the coincidences of history and geography. Or we could truly become one nation, an Mzansi fo sho.

Economics is Childs' play

2008-06-16T15:06:00.003+02:00

10 children are invited to a birthday party. As they arrive, they are each given 3 golden tokens. The host explains that they will play various games with great prizes using these tokens.

In the first game the prize is a brand new bicycle, which the host says he will give to whichever child offers him the most tokens.
This is the supply of desirable goods.

Nine of the ten children desperately want the bicycle. The tenth child is weird and says she’d rather walk. They all offer one token, then two then all three of their tokens for the bike.
This is demand driving up price.

There is stalemate, as no one can offer more than anyone else. Then 2 clever kids get together and agree to pool their tokens, allowing them to make an offer of 4 tokens.
This is capital formation, and contractual agreement.

The other kids think this is a good plan, and there is a flurry of shouting and screaming as various alliances are formed, tokens are pooled, and offers for the bicycle are made.
This is called the stock exchange and joint stock companies.

Finally one little consortium is able to make a better offer than everyone else, and they become the joint owners of a shiny new bicycle.
This is called investment.

All the shareholders have a ride on the bicycle, while the other kids look on.
This is called envy.

Some kids mutter resentfully and demand that everyone should have an equal share of the bike and the rides.
This is called socialism.

The kids who own the bike get bored with riding after awhile, and go for a swim, leaving the bike lying on the ground.
This is called a non-productive asset.

One of the consortium, a skinny kid who doesn’t enjoy swimming, gets the idea of selling rides on the bike to the other kids for a token per ride. Soon everyone has had a turn on the bike , and the skinny kid has a bundle of tokens.
This is called return on investment leading to capital growth.

Now the host starts the next game. For this game the prize is a Playstation 3, and the rules are the same, the best offer wins. The kids go crazy, because this is an exceptional prize. They quickly start bidding against each other, but the members of the original consortium have no tokens left, and are therefore excluded from the bidding, except for the skinny kid. Although they frantically try to sell the bike, one of the renters has broken it, and there are no takers.
This is called risk.

The weird kid, who didn’t want to ride the bike, and the skinny kid get together and make the best offer for the Playstation, and become the proud owners. The skinny kid immediately starts renting out turns on the Playstation, and soon has more tokens than anyone else.
This is called stinking rich.

The other kids hate him, but he doesn’t care. Some kids now have no tokens, no share in the bike and no share in the play station.
These are the poor, and everyone somehow thinks they are the hardest hit.

For the last game the host announces that the prize is a trip to Disneyland. However, this is really expensive and the host wants his nephew to win the prize. He notes that the stinking rich weird and skinny consortium has 10 tokens to their name, and his rather dense nephew has only 1, having spent his other tokens on a bike ride and a go on the play station. He tells the kids he will pay them with new tokens to clean up the mess from the party, then have the Disneyland auction. All the kids clamour for a job to do, but the host gives his nephew 10 tokens and tells him to organise the cleanup. He immediately gives his 3 buddies tasks to do for 1 token each, and tells everyone else that they don’t qualify.
This is called nepotism and affirmative action. The velocity of money supply distribution comes into it, too.

Previously the maximum possible bid for the Disneyland prize was 30 tokens, the total number in circulation. Now the maximum possible bid is 40 tokens.
This is called price inflation due to increase in the money supply.

In reality, due to the fact that the prize could only have one winner, competition between the kids means that the best potential offer for the prize is the 10 tokens of the weird and skinny consortium. However, the nephew and his 3 buddies can make an offer of 11 tokens, using the nephew’s 8 and 1 each from the 3 buddies. Since the nephew has provided the lion’s share of the offer, he would naturally get to go on the trip.
The weird and skinny consortium’s holdings have been devalued due to the inflation of the token supply, and the nephew could win the prize due to favouritism and collusion.

However, the skinny kid is not stupid. While the cleanup is in progress, and before the bidding for the Disneyland trip starts, he offers to borrow tokens from the other kids, promising to give them a 2 for 1 return within an hour. Three kids agree.
This is called banking and interest.

The W & S consortium can now offer 13 tokens for the Disneyland trip. The nephew sees what is going on. Initially he whines to his uncle about the evil capitalistic W & S consortium. However, the uncle still has a semblance of dignity to maintain, and the other parents are watching too. He tells the nephew to make a plan. So the nephew loudly announces that he will pay 3 tokens in an hour for every token borrowed now. Two kids agree.
This is called raising the interest rate, or the price of borrowing.

Both the nephew and the W & S consortium can now offer 13 tokens for the Disneyland trip. The host announces that his nephew wins the tie because the skinny kid had already won shares in the bike and the play station.
This is called government interference in the market.

The host now announces that he is in charge of the interest rate, and he has increased the rate to 4 tokens per hour, in order to restrict inflation.
The W & S consortium go bust, and the nephew goes to Disneyland.

Everyone except the skinny kid thinks this is fair.
This is because they are all stupid.

SA Crime reality

2008-06-08T17:51:00.004+02:00

This blog is an edited version of a 2008 newsletter I sent out to various friends after my family and I were the victims of an armed robbery in Gauteng, South Africa, on 13th January 2008. It is worth noting that we were merely one of 7 armed robberies in the northern area of Randburg that week.

The Attack

We were planning to go on holiday down to Jeffrey’s Bay on 14^th January for a week. I have wanted to move down to the coast for many years, and we were now beginning to move on this dream. On Saturday night, 12^th January, we went out with old friends to a local restaurant for dinner, and had lots of wine and good food. We went to bed about 11pm and fell soundly asleep. My son came in about 12pm, and he too went to sleep. At about 3am I was awakened by a bright torch light shining in my face, and somebody shouting “I shoot you, I shoot you”. It’s amazing how quickly you wake up under those circumstances. In a few seconds I realised there were at least 3 black men at the bottom of our bed, wearing balaclavas and gloves, each holding a handgun pointing at me or my wife. There is a scene in the Oscar winning movie “Tsotsi” exactly like this. To cut a very long 90 minutes short, these fellows bound our hands behinds our back with very tight cable ties, bound our feet with my neck ties from my cupboard, demanded to know where we kept our safe (we don’t have one), what the pins for our credit cards were, where the money was, etc, etc. All we could do was lie there stark naked like trussed turkeys, and do our best to keep them calm. To encourage me to be honest, they heated up our clothes iron and burnt me repeatedly along my right side. As it happened, I gave them an old pin number for the cards, which I still remembered well. We now realised there were 5 men in the house, when they bundled my son onto the floor in our bedroom as well. They proceeded to ransack the house, finding my gun behind the bed in the process. We told them repeatedly that we were poor, and after a while they appeared to believe us. One of the younger hoodlums went through my clothes one by one, rejecting each item with disdain. I told him that he probably had better clothes than me, and he agreed. One fellow who obviously suffered from inadequate potty training as a child, was fascinated by our genitals. I’m fairly sure his job description included rapist. He inspected both of our genitals, then climbed up on top of my wife. He then noticed she was missing a breast, which puzzled him. We explained that my wife had had cancer and that it had been removed. He asked if cancer was infectious and whether he needed a condom. We assured him that it was. After some probing around with his fingers, he appeared to lose interest, thank God. Finally, they all trooped out of the room and the house went silent. I staggered to my feet and looked out the window to see if they were gone, but could see nothing. My wife and son begged me to return to the bed in case they were still there, which I did. Suddenly they all burst into the room together, waving guns and torches and demanding to know the pin numbers again. We gave them the pins, which they compared to numbers they had written down earlier. They seemed satisfied we had given them consistent numbers. One of them cocked my revolver and pointed it at me, sighting down the barrel. I told him that the woman next door invariably summoned the armed reaction service whenever there was a gunshot in the area. After a brief discussion, they appeared to think better of shooting me too. They then loaded up all our electronic gear into the back of my truck, including odd things like a mirror, several paintings, wine glasses and kitchen implements. In retrospect, we figured they were probably setting up a townhouse somewhere, and were short a few items. They couldn’t work out how to get our security gates open, and it took about 10 minutes of careful explanation before they got it right. They pushed the truck all the way across the property to the road before starting it, making it hard for us to know if they were gone. However, I was pretty sure they were gone this time. I managed to untie my wife’s feet, and she went to the kitchen and got a small knife to cut the ties on our legs. She then managed to open the back door with her mouth, a farm gate with her foot, and ran up to the property owner’s house and raised the alarm.

We survived this event largely unscathed, except for a few burns and some numbness in our hands from the cable ties. For this we were deeply grateful. I think all of us will carry the events of that night to our graves. I am saddened and angered that my family now have 2 such memories embedded in their minds (They were also robbed and brutalised in 1993). We lost quite a lot materially, my truck, laptop and its contents, TV’s etc. Unfortunately I had decided to self insure about 6 months before, after a lifetime of insuring everything. Our children and neighbours gathered around and were incredibly generous. Our next door neighbour, whose husband was shot dead in an armed robbery about 2 years ago, offered us accommodation in a spare cottage on her property, set us up with cell phones within hours, and was wonderfully helpful.

Everyone asks “How did they get in?” Of the 3 houses on the property, ours was the most protected. We have a fence around the main property, an electric fence around our cottage with an automatic palisade gate, 2 dogs, and all the windows have burglar bars. The crooks avoided the electric fence (which is alarmed), broke a palisade off the gate with a single blow from a hammer and chisel, and twisted three burglar bars off their welding silently. The dogs never peeped, which given that one is deaf and the other blind in one eye, is not surprising.

The police were as ineffectual as they always are, showing up 2 hours after the event, drinking coffee while they painstakingly write out statements in long hand in bad grammar and worse spelling. We decided to call the papers, in the hope that they might publish the registration number of the truck, and also put a little pressure on the police. We finally got through to a reporter at the Star newspaper, who took all our details and story, and sent out a photographer. To our total amazement, a photo of my wife and I took up over half of the front page of the next day’s edition, pushing a story about our corrupt commissioner of police (and ex Interpol head) off to one side. That was not the 15 minutes of fame that I wanted!

South Africa

South Africa reminds me of a person who has been diagnosed as HIV positive, but who remains amazingly healthy and vibrant for many years. Then one day the immune system crumbles, your energy evaporates, and running sores appear everywhere. For South Africa, that day seems to have been around 1^st January 2008. Everybody and his dog are recommending expensive and painful treatments, in endless lekgotlas and indabas and bosberaads and high level strategy meetings. Everything in the body politic is inflamed, new and evil leaders have replaced old and incompetent ones, every single organ of state is on the point of collapse, the young and healthy (and white and competent) are leaving in droves, and there are black spots all over the landscape.

During late December we South Africans witnessed the spectacle of a mere 4000 ANC party apparatchiks deciding on the future of the country as though it were their personal fiefdom. With bad grace and worse manners they elected Jacob Zuma as party head and soon to be SA president. This is a man with a Standard 6 education, who learned to read after the age of 20, who is accused of massive fraud of public funds, accused and acquitted of rape, who believes that a shower will prevent HIV infection. This is a stupid choice made by stupid people, but we all must pay for it. Personally, I like to believe he will never become president, that he may well end up in jail, but that he may be instrumental in breaking the power of the ANC in South Africa. At least that’s what I believe on the good days (both of them).

The primary focus of popular anger is currently directed towards Eskom, who have been cutting power for up to 9 hours a day in some areas, due to our current power shortage. People get really pissed when they can’t watch their favourite soapies, when their local bar has to close early, or when the intensive care unit shuts down unexpectedly. Johburg’s diabolical traffic becomes much, much worse when all the robots shut down. However, since only about half the robots work even when there is power, we have learnt to cope with 4 way intersections quite well.

Will SA host the 2010 World Cup? That is a question you may only ask in the most private of places, but it is being frequently asked. Government makes endless promises, but their credibility is close to zero. I don’t envy Sepp Blatter that decision. Although I think the government will try to fake their way through it, by spending huge amounts of money and deploying thousands of troops, I am not convinced that the rest of the world will be quite as tolerant of rampant bureaucracy and ineptitude as are most South Africans.

On the positive side, we don’t have George Bush or Robert Mugabe for president, English weather, Australian drought, New Zealand earthquakes, Iraqi militia, or Chinese work ethic. The coast is still rather nice, and the economy just won’t stop, no matter how hard Cosatu tries.

But, in the immortal words of W C Fields, All in all, I’d rather be in Philadelphia.

For the future, I think South Africa will inexorably follow the same pattern as has prevailed in Africa over the last 2 centuries. The whites will retreat southwards from their former colonial possessions as the blacks take over and then rubbish their newly acquired lands. Whites have retreated from Zambia, Mozambique, Angola, Zimbabwe, Polokwane, mostly heading for Gauteng or the Cape or overseas. I believe that a majority of whites in South Africa will move down to the Western Cape in the course of the next 10 years, perhaps exceeding the number of blacks in that province. The Democratic Alliance will govern the province and major cities, and the economy will thrive, at the expense of the economy in the rest of South Africa. The province will soon resent the excessive tax burden which will be used to try to sustain the northerly provinces, and will refuse to pay. I suspect this may trigger the long delayed racial war in South Africa, but perhaps cooler heads will prevail. The Western Cape may secede from the Republic, and the whole Zimbabwe / South Africa scenario may play out yet again. We will all be dead by then.

Death of Innocents

2008-05-31T12:38:00.004+02:00

I wrote the following article in September 2001. I find it fascinating that there is so little change in the situation between then and now.

Great turning points in history have often been marked by a great slaughter of innocents. Masada, the birth of Christ, the birth of the American, Israeli and Indian nations, to name but a few. What does this latest massacre of innocent individuals portend for the future of our troubled species?

The perpetrators of this gross deed have done the cause of freedom, their’s and our’s, no favours. Nationalism, patriotic fervour, religious fundamentalism and intolerance are all back with a vengeance, seeking vengeance. The cycle of attack and counter-attack is poised, ready to begin. Although there are no obvious beneficiaries, no expectation of a positive outcome, no relief for the dead victims, the will to revenge is overpowering, and will be answered.

What are the likely consequences of this world changing event? The United States and its people can be forgiven for being seriously pissed off by this unprovoked attack. I think their relationship with limp left governments like South Africa will become much more self-interested. You are either a firm friend of the US, or you are on your own, baby.

The worst consequence from my perspective is that big government is back with a bang—well, three bangs actually. The government that seemed powerless to detect or stop this act, or to punish its supposed perpetrator for other equally horrific acts committed in the past, despite the best intelligence systems tax money could buy, now has a hugely increased budget and authoritarian powers to stop similar attacks in the future. Yeah, right! Like all concentrations of money and power, these people will use this money and power to protect their access to money and power, whilst harassing those who threaten them in any way. Legitimate anti-government organisations with public and non-violent agendas can expect to suffer the most. Well hidden, violent terrorist organisations can probably expect business to continue much as before. There will be the occasional, well orchestrated, prime time “successes” against the nefarious terrorist enemy. Real terrorists, like the Chinese or Indonesian governments, will continue to enjoy “favoured nation” status, as did Afghanistan until a few years ago. Individuals and organisations seeking to reduce the power of government in their lives but lack power or money will quickly succumb in the new world order.

Rees-Mogg and Davidson’s book, The Sovereign Individual, predicted the decline of the nation-state and the rise to ascendancy of the “sovereign individual” in the new millennium. It is naïve to expect the rulers of the nation-states to quietly acquiesce in their own demise. They are Wellington, and the World Trade Centre is their Waterloo.

What should be the response to the events of September 11th? Even in a civilised state such as the USA, the rules of law and the rules of war are different. A general threat to the population from a hostile invading force calls for a largely indiscriminate and fatal response against all who are perceived as enemies.

Is the USA at war, as so widely proclaimed by the organs of government? Well, most of the invading forces are dead, by their own hand, or returned to their home country. Their supposed home country is more to be pitied than feared, more to be aided than attacked. The vast United States is threatened by a ragged band of armed nutcases, admittedly capable of the occasional painful blow, but no threat to the survival of the United States at all. The rules of war do not and should not apply.

The perpetrators should be brought to book in a lawful fashion, and should be similarly disposed of. If the United States abandons the rule of law in dealing with these terrorists, who then is safe? Would the suburb of Woodstock in Cape Town be acceptable collateral damage for a strike against Pagad? Are the SACP and PAC classified as terrorist organisations, subject to unilateral attack by American forces? Much as I despise these groups, I hope not.

When seeking a criminal, it is common practice to “follow the money”. The finger of suspicion will point at those who benefit most from the crime. Who has profited from the events of September 11th, and who has lost? After the victims themselves, organisations opposing government, including international terrorism, would seem to have lost the most. This may be an unintended consequence of an ideologically motivated attack, but the consequences for these organisations will be severe.

Amazingly, those organisations tasked with detecting and eliminating terrorist threats, who have failed so lamentably in that task, appear to be the greatest beneficiaries of the new world order. In terms of increased budgets, greater powers and unquestioning influence on policy, they are in the pound seats. The CIA, the FBI, the ATF, those sinister 3 letter mnemonic shapers of American society and international policy, they now have carte blanche to chase their enemies, real or perceived, while an outraged public mourns its fallen members.

How did a group of religious fanatics from the poorest and most divided country in the world execute such a large and successful operation, without a flaw, a single detectable error, a leak from the 50 or 60 people involved? How did this international gathering of suicidal fanatics go undetected for months? How did the world’s most sophisticated surveillance operations fail to respond even 30 minutes after the attack was clearly in progress?

Has the unthinkable scenario played out by Geena Davis in the film “Long kiss goodnight” come to pass? Is Osama bin Laden the unsuspecting dupe of the power brokers in Washington and Foggy Bottom, the men who can plan a complex operation 50 moves ahead, using the giant computers and systems at their disposal? Will the World Trade Centre join the pantheon of other uncertain, unresolved disasters in recent American history, alongside JFK, Robert Kennedy, Martin Luther King, Waco, and others?

Who will know? The fox has been instructed to guard the hen house, the CIA and FBI are in charge of the investigation. Amidst the fuss of blowing Osama bin Laden and half of Afghanistan to dust, will anyone be looking within, asking difficult questions, publishing unpalatable facts, firing evil or incompetent agents? I think not! Fox Moulder come back—we need you now more than ever!

I believe the United States will be doing the world and Afghanistan a favour if they remove the atrocious Taliban pimple from the disfigured face of the Middle East. I believe there are a number of other terrorist GOVERNMENTS, as well as organisations, around the world which can only be removed by cauterisation, like warts, and the USA happens to own the heat.

But I fear that in the post Cold War world, the agencies fighting terrorism need the terrorists to justify their existence. If we leave the business of making peace to those with an investment in war, then peace will be a long time coming.

Favourite Jokes

2008-05-31T12:13:00.001+02:00

Riding a dead horse

The tribal wisdom of the Dakota Indians, passed on from one generation to the next, says that when you discover that you are riding a dead horse, the best strategy is to dismount. However, in government, because of the heavy investment factors and political realities, other strategies are implemented, including:

1. Buying a stronger whip.

2. Changing riders.

3. Threatening the horse with termination.

4. Appointing a committee to study the horse.

5. Arranging to visit other sites to see how they ride dead horses.

6. Lowering the standards so that dead horses can be included.

7. Reclassifying the dead horse as "living-impaired."

8. Hiring outside contractors to ride the dead horse.

9. Harnessing several dead horses together to increase speed.

10. Providing additional funding to increase the dead horse's performance.

11. Doing a productivity study to see if lighter riders would improve the dead horse's performance.

12. Declaring that the dead horse carries lower overheads and therefore performs better than some other horses.

13. Rewriting the expected performance requirements for all horses.

14. Promoting the dead horse to a supervisory position.

15. Further centralising control over dead horses.

South African Questions and Answers (From a tourism website)

Q: Will I be able to see elephants in the street? (USA)
A: Depends how much you've been drinking.

Q: Can you give me some information about Koala Bear racing in South Africa? (USA)
A: Aus-tra-lia is that big island in the middle of the pacific. A-fri-ca is the big triangle shaped continent south of Europe ... oh forget it. Sure, the Koala Bear racing is every Tuesday night in Hillbrow. Come naked.

Q: Can you send me the Vienna Boys' Choir schedule? (USA)
A:A us-tri-a is that quaint little country bordering Ger-man-y, which is… oh forget it. Sure, the Vienna Boys Choir plays every Tuesday night in Hillbrow, straight after the Koala Bear races. Come naked.

Q: Do you have perfume in South Africa? (France)
A: No, WE don't stink.

Q: I have developed a new product that is the fountain of youth. Can you tell me where I can sell it in South Africa? (USA)
A: Anywhere significant numbers of Americans gather.

Q: Will I be able to speek English most places I go? (USA)
A: Yes, but you'll have to learn it first.

Funny 1-liners

2008-05-31T12:03:00.004+02:00

This is a collection of short jokes and 1-liners that I liked:

Change is inevitable... except from vending machines

Don’t sweat petty things... rather pet sweaty things

A fool and his money are soon partying

Plan to be spontaneous tomorrow

How many of you believe in telekinesis? Raise my hands....

Everybody repeat after me.... “We are all individuals.”

Chastity is curable, if detected early.

Hard work pays off in the future. Laziness pays off now.

99 percent of lawyers give the rest a bad name.

If at first you don’t succeed, then sky-diving definitely isn’t for you.

42.7 percent of statistics are made up on the spot.

If you must choose between two evils, pick the one you’ve never tried before.

Don’t be sexist; broads hate that!

I don't suffer from insanity; I enjoy every minute of it.

Don't take life too seriously; you won't get out alive.

I'm not a complete idiot; some parts are missing.

The gene pool could use a little chlorine.

I took an IQ test and the results were negative.

I'M OUT OF ESTROGEN AND I'VE GOT A GUN

STUPIDITY IS NOT A HANDICAP. Park elsewhere!

They call it PMS because Mad Cow Disease was already taken

HECK IS WHERE PEOPLE GO WHO DON'T BELIEVE IN GOSH

The original point and click interface was a Smith & Wesson.

I Work Hard Because Millions On Welfare Depend on Me!

The sex was so good that even the neighbours had a cigarette.

God must love stupid people; He made so many of them.

He who dies with the most toys is nonetheless dead

Why do we press harder on a remote control when we know the batteries are flat?

Why does someone believe you when you say there are four billion stars, but check when you say the paint is wet?

Why does Superman stop bullets with his chest, but ducks when you throw a revolver at him?

Whose idea was it to put an "S" in the word "lisp"?

If the temperature is zero outside today and it's going to be twice as cold tomorrow, how cold will it be?

If it's true that we are here to help others, what are the others doing here?

Why is it that people say they "slept like a baby" when babies wake up, like, every two hours?

Why do people pay to go up tall buildings and then put money in binoculars to look at things on the ground?

The 5 Commandments

2008-05-28T10:01:00.003+02:00

So, how is Individual Liberty doing at the start of the 21st Century? Following the collapse of communism in the nineties, the future looked bright. The end of history was nigh, and our side (capitalism, Western liberal values, individualism) had won the war of ideas. Pundits such as Rees-Mogg and Davidson even predicted the collapse of the nation-state within a few years due to the influence of the internet, in their book “The Sovereign Individual”.

However, the seeds of the current confusion were already planted in the last decade of the “savage century”. The bursting of the dotcom bubble and its associated recession brought capitalist values into disrepute. Militant Islam, fuelled by petro-dollars, has wreaked its righteous wrath upon us infidels, oblivious to the pain it causes its own people. HIV/AIDS has gobbled up millions of people and billions of dollars, throttling any third world recovery at birth. And the collectivists have found new avenues of expression for their dirigiste urges, using the environment, sustainable development, and health as new rallying cries to the masses.

The first years of the new century have many potent portents of doom to deal with. Nostradamus, meteorite collisions, the computer singularity, are predicted. The War in Iraq, Afghanistan invasion, 9/11, the tsunami, have already happened.

Individual freedom and liberty has been the great casualty of these past and future events. America appears to have largely abandoned its marvellous constitution. Bureaucracies around the world are on the rise, rather than disappearing. Few if any states are moving in a Libertarian direction.

In South Africa the ANC has thoroughly entrenched itself in power. Crime is rampant, corruption endemic, services are abysmal, racism abounds.

In the face of these onslaughts, what is a freedom-minded individual to do? I believe we must revert back to our most basic principles, understand and agree these principles amongst ourselves, then go forth and proclaim them to a world grown heavy with sophistication, complexity and special pleading.

“Life is sacred”.

“No action without consent”.

“Do not initiate violence”.

“Respect property rights”.

“Respect contracts”.

These are not complex concepts. Any reasonable individual can explain them. They are briefer and simpler than the 10 commandments, these 5 conditions for peaceful coexistence. Every week billions of people gather in churches, synagogues, temples and mosques to think and talk about the important values in life, and to exhort each other to respect these values. We should do our best, as Libertarians, to put these 5 conditions into the social fabric of our society, to create a groundswell of rationality that will overwhelm the faulty logic of the collectivists.

We should expose the intellectual bankruptcy of the socialists in our midst, not politely, not with all due respect, but with stinging sarcasm and mockery, independent of their colour, creed or connections. Their good intentions are no excuse for their stupid ideas and actions. By and large, we ALL have good intentions.

How stupid are we to remain quiet in the face of statements like:

“You have a right to rewards which you have not earned, like a job, house, or healthcare”

“As a worker, you have more rights than other people, such as employers, or the unemployed.”

“The actions of long dead people in the past have more influence on my circumstances than my own actions in the present.”

The Celestial Gardener - a short story

2008-05-26T10:42:00.004+02:00

It looked vaguely like an old Pontiac or Chevy, from the sixties. It was big and square, with windows all round, and even had 3 fins at the back. However, the similarities ceased pretty quickly after that. For one, it had no wheels, but floated a few centimeters above the ground, even when parked. For another, it was being “driven” by an alien – the real McCoy thin grey dude with huge eyes and minimal nose. All those pictures and Halloween masks, they were right after all

He/She/It parked outside the main entrance to the United Nations building, next to a fire hydrant in a clearly marked No Parking zone, behind the diplomatic cars from several minor African and Middle Eastern states. Hesheit, as we will call him, was not expected. There were no worried looking UN officials, no low level plenipotentiary, not even a CIA man trying to look unobtrusive in a black suit with a slouch hat and a shoulder holster. The moment humanity had been breathlessly expecting for decades, our first official contact with a bona fide alien intelligence, was officiated by a New York bag lady and a secretary on lunch.

“Is this the United Nations building?”, Hesheit asked the bag lady courteously, in clear, flat and accent-free English, as he stepped through a gap which had suddenly appeared in the side of his vehicle.

“Fuck me sideways!”, the bag lady replied, rapidly summing up the situation.

“I’m sorry, I have neither the time, inclination nor equipment”, Hesheit replied politely. Noticing several signs identifying the entrance to the UN building, the short grey alien strode purposefully across the pavement towards the doors. The secretary, seated on a bench eating her lunch, watched without moving as her cold drink poured into her lap from her suddenly limp hand.

Hesheit had almost made it to the doors of the building before eliciting a significant response. Two guards standing either side of the entrance closed their gaping mouths, fumbling clumsily for their guns as they stepped in the alien’s path. Certain that this was just another student prank in a long series of similar incidents, they were neither fearful nor awed by the alien’s unusual appearance.

“You can’t come in here!”, the less dense guard shouted, hoping to quickly resolve the situation with noise and bluster.

“Hi guys,” Hesheit replied in a friendly tone, “I would like to address the general assembly immediately, since I know they are currently in session. No need to show me the way, I have my own map of the place.”

“Go away, dipshit!”, the more dense of the 2 guards replied, feeling the need to exceed his co-worker. He reached out a hand to grasp the thin grey arm in front of him.

“Hmmm, time for the goway field to be activated,” the alien muttered quietly, “That was quick.” Hesheit made a slight but deliberate gesture with the middle finger of a three-fingered right hand. There was a quiet pop, followed by a slight shimmering effect all around the alien. The guard leapt back clutching his hand, as though he had been shocked, which he had. Hardly breaking stride, the alien pushed the other guard aside and strode purposefully through the doors into the building, heading towards the general assembly hall. The guards were frantically shouting into their communicators, waving their guns dangerously in the air.

Within 30 seconds a contingent of 6 heavily armed security guards poured out of a doorway to the right of the striding alien. They took up position across the passageway, falling to one knee while raising seriously large guns towards the unconcerned alien figure. Six red dots of light played over the shimmering effect about a metre in front of the alien’s head, but no lights reached the body behind. People in the passage started to scatter and scream, seemingly more afraid of the menacing guards than of the weird looking alien.

“Halt and lie face down, or we WILL shoot,” the leader of the black suited SWAT team shouted, in a voice carefully trained to instill fear and impose authority.

“Sorry, lads, I really don’t have time for this. The delegates will be going to lunch shortly, and I really want them to hear what I have to say without further delay. Please keep back or you may be injured.” Hesheit kept striding towards the line of guards. The SWAT team leader repeated his warning. The gap reduced to 10 metres.

“Fire at will”, the team leader shouted. A deafening volley of shots rang out, filling the air with smoke and the smell of cordite, followed by six distinct clunks as the bullets hit the shimmering field and fell harmlessly to the floor. The alien kept coming. The startled SWAT team fired more indiscriminately, flicking their guns to automatic fire, some shooting low while others focused on the head. There was a steady rain of falling bullets at the feet of the rapidly advancing alien.

“Really, guys, this is not the friendliest welcome I’ve ever had. Don’t you have an ambassador or someone I can talk to, who actually listens. Someone could easily get hurt here, if you don’t concentrate.” Hesheit reached the line of firing men. As the shimmering field touched a man he was knocked backwards involuntarily, his body twitching violently, as if electrocuted. Hesheit strode on, at the best speed that the short grey legs would allow.

The SWAT team leader urgently called for reinforcements, then padded along behind the alien, firing occasionally into the retreating back, without effect.

About 2 minutes later the alien rounded a corner into a large atrium, with various groups of multi-hued people engaged in earnest discussions. The doors to the General Assembly stood off to the right. “Ah, at last,” Hesheit murmured. In a few seconds the grey figure surrounded by the shimmering effect had passed through the doors into the main hall, and started down the steps towards the podium. The buzz of conversation in the hall stopped momentarily, then picked up at a higher volume. The Caftan clad figure at the podium did not notice Hesheit’s entrance, and kept droning on in a bored monotone. Finally, as Hesheit approached the podium, the speaker looked up and gave vent to a string of profanities in a foreign language. Fortunately the translators did not oblige. Bumping the speaker aside with his goway field, Hesheit mounted the podium and looked out across the audience.

“Greetings Earthlings! I am a representative of an advanced intergalactic federation, sent to communicate with the beings on this planet. I am known as the celestial gardener, although you can call me Fred, or anything you like. Since this forum most closely approximates a representative body for the planet, I have chosen to communicate through you. Please do not interrupt me once I get started, because that really pisses me off.

Over the course of billions of your years we have discovered that intelligence is the rarest and most special characteristic in the universe. Life itself is common and widespread, but rarely amounts to much. Intelligence arises very rarely and only under the most special conditions. We, the intergalactic federation of intelligences, have dedicated our purpose of existence to finding, nurturing and enhancing intelligence throughout our area of space and time. Intelligence is the search for and discovery of the truth. The truth is that which is least wrong in our understanding of the universe.

We have discovered that true intelligence is like a delicate and beautiful flower that grows in a garden of similar looking weeds. For intelligence to flower, it must be assisted by the removal of the weeds of stupidity which threaten constantly to stifle it. We make a sharp distinction between cleverness, cunning, skill, astuteness, IQ, resourcefulness and the flower of intelligence.

As any gardener knows, to be successful, one must constantly fertilise the soil and prune the weeds in your garden. About every 10,000 solar years I swing by to inspect your particular garden, on behalf of the federation. The first tentative signs of intelligence emerged about 20,000 years ago amongst the Neanderthals and CroMagnons. I did a little fertilizing and pruning, and went on my way. Around 10,000 years ago I returned, and did some serious pruning in a place you call Atlantis, and a little fertilizing in a place you call Greece.

Now I’m back, and I see the garden is overgrown with brambles. What I am about to describe will seem cruel. Remember, it is not life itself that is precious, but the intelligence that life gives rise to.

In 72 hours time every human life form over the age of 7 years on this planet will be given an intelligence test, during their sleep. Three questions will be asked in the form of a dream. If an individual answers the question to our satisfaction, they will awake and continue life as normal. If an individual answers unsatisfactorily, they will die peacefully in their sleep. We expect the vast majority of humans to fail this test, resulting in massive depopulation of the planet. However, the core that remain will have had the stupid genes removed from their gene pool, at least for awhile, and will quickly recover to be much better than before. You can think of this exercise as a really large Darwin Awards. After another 4 or 5 similar prunings, in about 40,000 to 50,000 years, we expect a sufficiently pure strain of intelligence will have arisen to warrant inclusion in our intergalactic federation.

There is no negotiation of this situation. The gardener does not negotiate with the rose. In 72 hours you will be asked the following 3 questions. Your answer will determine if you live or die. In your dreams you cannot lie, neither to yourself nor to us. The answer you give will be the answer you truly believe. You have 3 days in which to decide what you truly believe, and to make that an integral part of you.

Here are the questions:

Do you believe that for which you have no evidence?
Do you deny that for which you have strong evidence?
Of what are you certain?

Thank you for your attention, and goodbye.” The alien left the building.

Rights of Citizens

2008-05-26T10:24:00.004+02:00

Everyone knows we have a great constitution. Hardly anyone knows what it contains. Hardly anyone knows what rights they have, and what obligations the government has. Particularly most “civil” servants.

Of course there have been numerous efforts to bring the constitution to the people. I guess they have been about as successful as bringing parliament, or the provincial legislature, to the people. There have been numerous successful and well-publicized constitutional court challenges, including the recent successful asset forfeiture case in which the Law Review Project was involved. However, in my opinion, the constitution has very little relevance in the everyday lives of ordinary people.

How could this be changed? Most people are really only interested in things which affect them directly – saving money, saving time, cool things, interesting experiences. Don’t talk to them about concepts of justice, rights of the individual, common law and precedents. Tell them that Teazers can stay open because it has a constitutional right to do so, or that Metrorail is obliged by law to provide more guards on trains. That’s using the constitution to change real world stuff. For those of us who don’t go to Teazers, or ride on trains, the constitution remains a bunch of legal mumbo-jumbo with only minimal impact on our daily lives. In this essay I suggest one constitutional issue which might be worth investigating further, and some mechanisms for implementing changes involving this issue.

The key clause in the constitution for every day living is number 33, “Just administrative action”.

(1) Everyone has the right to administrative action that is lawful, reasonable and procedurally fair.

(2) Everyone whose rights have been adversely affected by administrative action has the right to be

given written reasons.

(3) National legislation must be enacted to give effect to these rights, and must -

(a) provide for the review of administrative action by a court or, where appropriate, an independent and impartial tribunal;

(b) impose a duty on the state to give effect to the rights in subsections (1) and (2); and

It is the word “reasonable” in clause 33.1 with which we can conjure. I take the view that an administrative action can be considered reasonable if it applies equally to both the administrator applying the action, and the citizen to whom it is applied.

Let’s take a few examples:

Speeding fines

Many local municipalities effectively collect an additional tax on motorists by rigid enforcement of speeding fines. If a motorist cannot keep a ton of metal acted on by the varying forces of engine, gears, brakes, gravity and wind within 10% of some arbitrary speed, whilst simultaneously keeping a look out for braking cars in front, insane taxis to the sides, and avoiding being rammed from the rear, then that motorist is liable for a significant fine for each and every violation. Not surprisingly, many of us fail.

Yet this same municipality, which sets such a high standard and harsh penalty for the motorist, may have non-functioning robots, potholed roads, missing road signs, and yet suffer no penalties for any of this. A dead robot is every bit as dangerous as a speeding motorist, and is a threat to far more people than any one vehicle. It requires no great skill to keep a robot functioning, particularly when its maintenance is paid for by a host of taxes and levies. Radio stations supply us with long lists of dead robots on an hourly basis, making official ignorance no excuse whatsoever.

I propose that all income from fining motorists for traffic violations go into a privately administered trust. Whenever a motorist encounters a municipal violation of its responsibility, such as a dead robot or a bad pothole, that motorist may issue a summons against the municipality for its breach. Upon conviction, these “citizen fines” will be paid out of the aforementioned trust directly to the citizen. Should the trust be unable to pay, then the municipality itself must fork up. Since many thousands of these citizen fines could be issued each day, I would expect municipalities to react with alacrity to every hint of a failing traffic light. I would also expect a brisk trade in proxy citizen fines, with entrepreneurs camped at dead traffic lights, completed forms in hand, buying names and signatures from passing motorists for a discount on the fine.

Long queues

Government and queues appear to be synonymous. Home affairs, licenses, pensions, if it’s a government department it has a queue around the block in front of it. Most of the time the government department requires you to get and pay for a piece of paper that you never wanted in the first place. And you may be required to queue for days to get it. Like doctors, government departments treat you as though your time were of no value.

However, in their wisdom, our government also chooses to tell us what the minimum value of our time should be – the minimum wage per hour. I propose that all government departments be required to install a clock which issues a ticket printed with the current time and date when a button is pushed (MTN Rivonia have a good working example of just such a system). On arrival in the waiting area of any government or municipal department, our intrepid citizen would obtain a timestamp ticket. On final completion of the bureaucratic task at hand, this ticket could be redeemed as a discount on the cost of your transaction, or for cash, or as a credit against your annual tax return. The value of the ticket would be the number of hours expended multiplied by the minimum hourly wage, as set by the government. Finally, the bureaucrats would have a REAL incentive to deal with the burgeoning queues in their departments.

Once again, one would expect entrepreneurs to frequent government departments, offering to wait in queue for you in return for your timestamp ticket proceeds – everyone wins, except perhaps that sour faced harridan behind the departmental window.

Responsibility

I assume that virtually every South African has experienced the frustration of trying to communicate a problem to our bureaucracy. The phone rings and rings without answer. If it is actually answered, the person you seek is not in, or that post is not even filled. His boss is not in, his boss’s boss is not taking calls, and no one knows who is actually the head of the department, but he isn’t in either. If you actually get someone to talk to, he will tell you that that is not his area of responsibility, no matter what you say. He never knows who to transfer you to, and if he tries, inevitably the call is lost and you get to start again. You immediately call that same person at that same number, and the phone is not answered.

If and when you finally get someone to admit responsibility for anything, and they are intelligent enough to understand what you are talking about, they take down all your complaints in painfully slow detail, requiring you to spell every second word. They promise to follow up on this immediately, and that is the last you ever hear from them. Months go by while you try to find out what happened to your complaint. Finally, in deep frustration, you give up, as they knew you would all along.

I propose a government complaints website, similar to hellopeter.com in the business sphere. This site would record the responsibility hierarchy of every government department, with the name, work, home and cell phone number, and email address, of the responsible person at every level. Most of this information is a matter of public record, but almost certainly the government could not be relied on to maintain it accurately. Therefore, like Wikipedia, visitors to the site would have an opportunity to update the responsibility hierarchy with any new information they may have, thus allowing it to grow and remain reasonably accurate.

When a disgruntled complainant arrives at the website he would look up the appropriate department in the hierarchy, using a standard tree structure, or a search tool, or a wizard to guide him. On finding the appropriate node in the tree, our unhappy hacker could simply take note of the appropriate names and phone numbers, and do the rest himself. Alternatively, he could type in his complaint and submit it via the website. The website would

add this complaint to a list under that specific bureaucrat’s name and job position,
allow the bureaucrat to respond directly via the website,
keep a count of the total number of complaints added, and dealt with satisfactorily,
email the complaint to the named bureaucrat,
and email the complaint to the bureaucrat’s boss, and his boss’s boss

Now we’re cooking with gas! This faceless bureaucrat’s bosses are being deluged with specific emails detailing specific problems from hundreds of different people. Most public department’s have a rule requiring every communication to be acknowledged. Anyone can visit the website and extract statistics on the number of complaints outstanding, the number resolved, the nature of the problems reported, by individual bureaucrat and position. It becomes quick and easy to say that this the WORST department, and this is the WORST employee. Responsibility can no longer be evaded, although, of course, it may continue to be ignored. Instead of a disorganized background buzz of dissatisfaction, lacking specific details, names and dates, government would now be faced with well-organised, unassailable evidence of the deep anger and frustration of its citizens.

And, of course, a cottage industry would spring up, in which your complaints would be posted on the website by internet café entrepreneurs for a small fee, if you yourself don’t have internet access or understanding.

How do we do it?

In the United States you would start a movement, based on a few simple ideas. When your movement was big enough, you would prepare a petition to have an issue added to the next ballot in a state or federal election. If you had enough support, your ideas would become law, binding on the bureaucracy.

In South Africa we don’t have that sort of grassroots democracy. However, South Africans know how to get things changed – just ask the residents of Khutsong, or the TAC. We could start a movement based on the simple ideas described above. We could call it CLAUSE 33, or Citizens for Administrative Justice. We could set some simple short term goals, like traffic fines going into a trust, and then lobby for support. We could raise petitions, email letter campaigns, marches on parliament, the usual stuff. We could take notes out of the Treatment Action Campaign’s book. And then we could wait to see if democracy is really working in this country, or not.

Privatise the Police

2008-05-26T09:51:00.004+02:00

As a recent armed robbery and torture victim, and consequently a client of the SAPS, I can speak with some experience of the state of play in this arena in SA.

Like virtually every other government department, the SAPS appears to be in a state of chaos. Phone calls go unanswered, answers are meaningless or unintelligible, messages cannot be left or go unanswered. Although arrest rates are occasionally impressive (its relatively easy to throw a few likely suspects in the back of a truck), conviction rates are microscopic and laughable. It is patently obvious that the current management and staff of the SAPS simply cannot cut the mustard in the face of the deadly crime wave in SA.

To a large extent the security business has already been privatised, but without any legislative authority to apprehend and prosecute criminals. Here are a few suggestions to dramatically improve policing and security in SA.

Take the entire police and security annual budget, divide it by the number of adults in SA (about 40 million I guess), and distribute an equal number of security vouchers to each adult South African, to use as they see fit.
Retain the existing SAPS structure as is, without change. However, set up legislation to allow competing security agencies with the same rights and responsibilities to be established in competition with SAPS.
Open the security market to fair competition. Adult Citizens may now decide where to spend their security vouchers, on the local SAPS if they've been doing a good job, or on a competitor if they haven't. These vouchers would be redeemed by the central government for cash to registered security agencies, including the SAPS.
All the usual market rules will come into force. If you can't attract clients because you can't do the job, you quickly go out of business. If you behave unethically, your competitors will be quick to point it out, and will have the authority to prosecute you too. If your staff take bribes, their own management will quickly discipline them, since those profits belong to the directors and owners (who took the risk of starting this business).
A market in security vouchers will quickly emerge. If you have a security crisis, you may borrow additional vouchers from friends, buy them on the internet, or from a security voucher broker. If you have a long safe run, you will save up your vouchers, leave them to your children, sell them to a broker, whatever.

In this fashion, SA adults will individually decide where and how their security rands will be spent, who provides the best services, and who should go to the wall. If the SAPS are actually providing a great but unrewarded service, then nothing will change as we all spend our vouchers on them, but I wouldn't count on it.

However, the reality is that every centralised authoritarian regime knows that direct control of the security forces is essential to THEIR security. This is something they will never give up without a huge struggle, using those same security services to suppress all other points of view. So, interesting as this discussion may be, it is ultimately pointless.

The People are Revolting

2008-05-25T11:42:00.000+02:00

Some of us achieve our destiny only in death. The image of “The Burning Man” which has flashed around the world this last week will haunt our beloved nation for years to come. Such images have changed the course of history, and may yet change ours.

This week most South Africans are bowed down under the weight of shame for these horrific events. Everyone has an opinion on who to blame. Most favour blaming the “government”, some continue to blame the past, some blame blacks in general. There are a few benighted commentators who even blame the aliens.

We allocate blame so that we may punish those responsible, and thereby avoid a repetition of the blameworthy act. Blaming the wrong people is a serious mistake with serious consequences. The innocent are punished, and the guilty go free. Better to allocate no blame, than to allocate it incorrectly.

The “government” is not to blame for this recent violence. To the best of my knowledge, no one in government instigated these attacks, or beat or burned or robbed anyone. I am fairly certain that no one in government profited from these attacks.

For a change, neither apartheid, nor colonialisation, nor globalisation, nor whites are to blame for these attacks, although, outrageously, the leader of the PAC said they were. Blaming government is just as mindless, just as irrational, as blaming apartheid for the evil that specific men and women do through their own free will and choice.

The blame for these attacks lies squarely with the stupid, brutal, immoral people who beat their former neighbours to a pulp, who doused them with petrol and set fire to them, then stole all their belongings. It is these people who must be caught and convicted and punished. No matter how many, no matter how desperate, no matter how poor, they must be severely punished, or this cycle will continue indefinitely.

There are reasons aplenty for their ghastly behaviour - we’ve heard them all. Poverty, joblessness, lack of housing, lack of education, boredom, frustration, cramped living conditions, influx of foreigners, bad hair days. But there are no excuses. Many people with every one of these reasons did not go mashuga in the last 2 weeks, did not enrich themselves at the cost of the strangers in their midst. These people did not riot because they were poor, they rioted because they wanted to be rich, no matter what the cost to anyone else.

There is, however, a branch of government who must take the blame for not stopping this behaviour quickly, for failing to apprehend the culprits, for failing to protect the innocent. This is the branch of government specifically tasked with protecting the life and property of all the residents of this country, one of only 2 real responsibilities of government. The police alone have the authority and resources and funding to guarantee our security, to challenge and defeat the criminals. Just as they fail miserably every day to stem the flood of crime in this country, so they failed miserably to control the riots at the start, to mobilise resources fast enough, to have effective plans and procedures for this situation. Corrupt from top to bottom, our police are good at catching housewives doing 65 in a 60 zone, but have failed South Africa otherwise.

So how did we get from a rainbow nation in 1994 to this black and white Polaroid just 14 years later in 2008. Mostly through stupidity. We are one of 5 countries left in the world with a functioning Communist party directly involved in the leadership of the country. Does no one here remember the history of the 20th century? Were we all sleeping in 1989? Do the names Stalin, Pol Pot, Mao Tse Tung fail to ring any alarm bells? South Africa is overwhelmed with disastrously bad policies, and most of them came from the Communist handbook. For this policy catastrophe our ANC government is directly responsible, and directly to blame.

Hong Kong has lived alongside the world’s biggest communist dictatorship since the 2nd World War. Throughout this time this tiny lump of rock has resisted the insanity that is communist ideology, and has grown to be one of the wealthiest, freest countries on the planet.
In the 1960’s Singapore flirted with communism, but chose another path under its benevolent dictator. A mere 20 years later this swampy peninsula had become the crossroads of Asia, an immensely wealthy centre of finance and shipping.
In the 1970’s Mauritius too flirted with communism, but also chose a different path. Now it is one of the wealthiest, stablest countries in all of the African realm, despite its history of colonisation, exploitation, lack of resources, land and skills.
With our vast mineral resources, our beautiful land, our intelligent people, our solid infrastructure, where has the ANC and its communist allies got us to after close on 15 years? Rioting in the streets due to lack of jobs, houses, and infrastructure pretty much answers that question.

How do we get out of this mess? I suspect and fear that the path to the shining city on the hill passes through the burning swamp of despair. This is how it has been and will be for most of our neighbours. This is how it is in Africa. Or so we are told.

If we could develop a culture that placed more emphasis on individuals than on the groups they supposedly belong to. If we could effectively protect these individuals through the rule of law. If we could stop counting noses as a means of selecting leaders, and rather measure leaders by results. If we could abandon our culture of entitlement. If we could simply forget our fixation on phony 3rd generation rights such as a right to a job, and implement our real 1st generation rights such as protection from the use of force. Then perhaps us South Africans might stand a chance. But I honestly think we are too stupid to do that.