Showing the instruments

Call me sentimental but I would like to believe that if Mr Bush and Mr Cheney had actually run for office on a programme of legalising torture, they might have lost the 2000 election. Possibly they had no strong opinions on the subject. Yet we see now the extraordinary spectacle of the Vice-President of the United States lobbying hard for executive branch to be granted the legal sanction to torture foreigners wherever and whenever it wants; and it is pretty clear that this is simply legalising a process already well-established.

Why does Dick Cheney love torture so? What’s in it for the torturers? This is an important question, if they are going to govern us. Obviously, for some minority, there is a direct pleasure in the infliction of pain. But this is hardly going to be the motive of the vice president of the united states. Besides, he doesn’t actually drown people, beat them or place electrodes on their tender parts. He might not even want to to watch it done, though he is determined that his servants should do it.

But for most of us, and for most of the people who acquiesce in it, the pain is the most shameful part of torture. It is a means, and not an end. The end is fear. Torture is worthwhile because it demonstrates that we can do it. It frightens people whom we want to go in fear of us.

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Sex and slavery

There was a glorious story in an Australian-owned tabloid about two teachers meeting in Queensland, where brothels have just been legalised. One of them had gone as a customer; the other was working there in her spare time.

I don’t know how the story got out. The woman was “counselled”, but could not be sacked, and neither could the man. The anti-discrimination commissioner has announced that it would be illegal if either of them were to be sacked for engaging in sexual activity which is perfectly legal in itself. This seems to me to miss some important points about teaching, and the difficulties of maintaining classroom discipline if one’s hobbies are unusual.

Anyway, I was thinking about the moral issues involved, for a worm’s eye column, and realised that there are two grounds on which legalised prostitution can be defended. In a slave-owning society, or even on where women have no rights, then it is none of the state’s business what happens to a slave. In a free society, individual consenting adults may into transactions with each other, and that’s none of the state’s business either.

The trouble with prostitution in modern societies is that as a matter fact it involves both free and slave labour. I have no idea whether Belle du Jour was real, but I’m pretty certain Tracy Quan was. Both of them qualify as free agents. There must be others like them. Somehow this makes the slavery aspects even worse.

It still seems entirely wrong that only one side of the deal should be criminalised, but whether both or neither should be is less clear. What’s obvious when you think about it, though, is that slavery should be treated as murder, punished with mandatory life imprisonment, and investigated with as many resources as a murder is.

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A Phlegmagogue for the Elaphure

I’ve been dithering about what to put in this slot. In a linkier and shorter place I would simply put the two delightful words I found while cheating at the FT crossword yesterday — elaphure and phlegmagogue. An elaphure is actually a Père David’s Deer, so now we have an animal with two beautiful names, though I prefer elaphure. A phlegmagogue is not — as you might think — a teacher of snot, but a medicine which expels it. The word has been little used since the 17th century, according to the OED, which has no quotes after 1737, but one lovely cite:

1671 Salmon Syn. Med. iii. li. 570 Electuary of Jallap..is a good Phlegmagogue.

UPDATE: Google Print, however, has four results, for phlegmagogue and twenty pages on elaphure. That’s pretty impressive, though none will give you a definition.

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Serendipity

The next entry on this blog will be the thousandth. I’m not sure how I should commemorate this milestone — perhaps proclaim a year of Jubilee? — but in the meantime, here’s a twelve sting guitar and a curiously shaped capo:

Twelve strings

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Greedy Thieves

Silly company names are the postal service equivalent of spam filters. Just as I always give the Independent’s City Road postcode on forms which want to know mine when it’s none of their business — and the fax machine’s number for voice calls — my entries in domain name registries show that I work for a company called World Domination Enterprises, or sometimes Spooging Moose Corporate Communications. These are names only a database could love, so when any envelope turns up for either of them I know it’s an attempted con.

This afternoon brought a cracker. An outfit calling itself the Internet Listing Service sent a fake invoice demanding suggesting that I pay £65 or “best value” £260.00 for five years. And what to I get for this? A “Website Address Listing”, which means “domain name submission to 20 major search engines”. I’m pretty certain this is the same bunch of conmen who ran a slightly different racket as registrars until caught by the Trading Standards Authority. The print saying “This is not a bill. This is a solicitation. You are under no obligation to pay the amount stated.” is now about three times the size that it used to be, and much more prominently displayed. UPDATE still, apparently, illegal in the USA.

It’s hard to believe that anyone will fall for this version, but how many suckers do they need to cover their costs?

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Sane, devout Americans wanted

Next month. I’m making an Analysis programme for Radio Four on the way that Americans tend to believe that history must have an architect or at least a meaning. This seemed more interesting to everyone that yet another go-around on ID, which is a subset of this whig interpretation of the universe.

The difficulty, of course, is to stop this coming over as yet another tour around the psyche of those wacky yet curiously unlovable people across the pond. I want to get over the immediate, allergic reaction that educated English people have when God comes into the conversation of an American. There are ways to fool the immune system. It’s all right if it’s set to music: no one minds Emmylou Harris. But we can’t have her. So I am trying to come up with thoughtful, fluent, sympathetic American voices who can get this kind of discussion past the listeners’ immune systems. Obviously,. I have my own list, and will be asking for suggestions privately. But if anyone has ideas here, please comment away.

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I wish I could crawl back …

Whn I was seven I spoke pretty fluent Serbo-Croat, and could read it reasonably well. We used to have a beautiful communist encyclopaedia called Svjet Oko Naš though I don’t know what happened to it after my parents moved house. But a vigorous course of character building at prep school drove out of me every scrap of knowledge except for one fairly obscene phrase meaning “you are a fat arse” which a diplomat’s child shouldn’t really have known at all. Now a glorious article linked from languagehat suggests that obscenity is the beating heart of the Serbo-croat language. The headline on this post won’t make sense till you have read to the end, but there are many rewards before then. I particularly liked the ethnological distinction between Serbia and Montenegro: you know you have crossed the border when you stop fucking mothers and start on the fathers.

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Digital Wrong management

qB commented a few posts back that no one need worry about copy protection on music CDs because it was laughably easy to uninstall. Not if you play Sony CDs on Windows, it isn’t. An astonishingly unpleasant story, found through Rafe and the Reg, shows that Sony CDs, when played in Windows, install a set of hidden programs (built by a British software house) using pretty advanced spyware techniques, which not only slow your computer down when they are running but completely destroy the system if uninstalled in the obvious way. The details are impenetrably techincal, but the moral is clear. Don’t buy Sony CDs until this is removed.

Once again, I demand the right to protect my money the same way that they protect their music and with the same righ to render it useless if they do anything improper with it.

Posted in nördig | 2 Comments

Mr Kurtz goes to Washington

Is it old age, or just encroaching sanity that means where once I would have dissolved in wet-farting indignation, this morning, I just laughed, happy and helpless, when I read Victor Davis Hansen’s prescription for the Bush administration: “The key to Iraq is enfeebling those around it who are weakening the country — namely Syria and Iran. The U.S. should be calling for democratic reform in both countries — constantly, without interruption, and in the same idealistic fashion as we appeal to the Iraqis. This is an appeal that cries out for illustration but I won’t link to the actual photographs.

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Mary Kenny and Herbert Gintis

I just had a letter from Mary Kenny which seems to illustrate perfectly the gap between evolutionary and cultural explanations of human benevolence. She’s an old friend, and a thoroughly decent person, so I like arguing with her because I know her heart is as pure as her reasoning is sometimes tangled. Anyway, she read my Gintis piece in Saturday’s Guardian and wrote back as follows:

Andrew dear since you took me to task about faith and evolution, let me respond to you about Norway: there is a hateful side to this Scandinavian ³openness²: enforced levelling which comes under the pharisaical heading of ³equality² (you are not even allowed to have a personal tombstone in a graveyard it has to be chosen by the local authority, who oversees that they are all the exact same height), and what amounts to state control of private life (the Government knows exactly how much you drink). It is all bound up with their particular type of Calvinism. Not that there isn¹t a genial side to the Norwegians I know there is (and they seem to take great pride in telling you that they are, fundamentally, much nicer than those stuck-up Swedes): but give me a bit of privacy, and personal quirkiness in my private life, please. I¹d much rather see people fight to minimise their taxes, in an (evolutionary?) tussle with the State – and retain their individuality.

If my ancestors were kind and charitable (and many of them were), it was because they believed their reward would be in heaven. And I notice among the yobs of East Kent, and there are many, those who have no such belief are very noticeably unkind and uncharitable, as described in the latest Lynne Truss oeuvre…Love, Mary

So I wrote back. I want to write more and more thoughtfully about this, but my first reactions are below the fold, as a place-holder …

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