The Last Ditch

Tory Zac Goldsmith admits he is a non-dom

Tory Zac Goldsmith admits he is a non-dom - Times Online.

Another headline lusciously loaded with malevolent meaning. An "admission" carries the unspoken connotation of guilt, as in this headline we shall sadly never see;

"Labour Gordon Brown admits whole life warped by envy" 

Labour has not learned from Crewe & Nantwich. How could it? It is a party founded on an ideology of class hatred. "New" Labour's only real political innovation has been to create new classes of people to hate. They have added spice and variety to the embittered vocabulary of Leftist hate speech, but they still relish attacking their traditional foes; the successful, the prudent and their heirs. Unless of course, like Tony Benn in his day and the Milliband brothers in ours, they are Labour too. Their family trusts and tax structuring (not to mention their dynastic tendencies) are perfectly fine, of course.

The quality of political debate in Britain drives me to despair. The blogosphere has not really helped in that respect. Given the regularity with which classical liberals are venomously smeared and ridiculed in the mainstream media, it's perhaps not surprising that, given an outlet by blogging, some sought to give as good as they get. Not surprising, but disappointing. It has escalated the war of insults, which increasingly alienates reasonable people from political life, leaving the field to bruisers and back-stabbers.

Much as I enjoy his blogging and recognise the wit behind his delicate use of foul language, I worry about the election of Chris Mounsey of Devil's Kitchen fame as the new leader of the Libertarian Party. I know, like and respect Chris, but I feel he has queered his political pitch with his blogging. Not only will we, his readers, now lose the original (and best) swearblog, but his past writings (of which he has every reason to be proud) will give his opponents every excuse selectively to lower the tone of debate even further.

A recent casualty of the declining standard of public discourse is Anna Raccoon, who has thrown in the towel at her popular blog. I enjoyed her writing very much, but I also enjoy the writing of the gentlemen who stand accused (not by her, but by some or her readers) of "bullying" her into silence. I always enjoyed (though I often disagreed with) both blogs; while always knowing I would prefer to have lunch with Anna.

In her parting post, she wrote;

It seems to me that the world of blogging is fuelled by petty jealousies, vitriol, feuds, unsubstantiated allegations, apostrophe police, and a whole host of people who in another age would have been happy twitching their curtains and writing letters in green ink. I have watched in horror as several new forums have descended into a cesspool of hatred and nastiness, and you know what? I got up this morning and decided that I just didn’t have the energy any more, or the thick skin, to do it any longer.

Save as to the thinness of her skin, as to which she is best able to judge, she is quite wrong. There are many corners of the political blogosphere where civilised debate is attempted. Her bitter words will help mainstream politicians and journalists build their dismissive stereotype of bloggers. As if the professions that spawned Lord Mandelson and Alistair Campbell had any moral standing to criticise.

A sad week then. One more reasonable voice falls silent, enemies of libertarians are licensed by the party to call us all c***s, and the political charlatans mob the toff de jour as if it were still the 1950s. I have been both poor and prosperous in my life and I can't correlate the contents of my bank account to my wisdom or morality at the time. The only remarkable part of Zac Goldsmith's story is, though even better placed than Anna to kick back and enjoy life, he is prepared to give up his non-dom status to become an MP.

Even those who envy his wealth certainly can't fault the man's enthusiasm.

I am not a number

This remake of classic series, The Prisoner looks unpromising to a fan of the original. Yet perhaps there was never a great show that more needed to be remade. Its themes are certainly as relevant as in 1967. In those far-off days, despite the horrors of Soviet Russia, Red China and Fidel's Cuba many still saw collectivism as a gentle dream.

Sir Ian McKellen, luvvie deluxe, unexpectedly gives a quote worthy of a libertarian blogger;

“The original Prisoner was very much dealing with the life of the individual as he might get caught up in Soviet Russia… Well, here we are 40 years on and we are living in a land where people accept without question being fingerprinted, having their eyes registered at airports, taking off their clothes at the airport, opening up their luggage, not being allowed to do this, not being allowed to do that, photographed in the streets by cameras that are put up by you’re never quite sure who. All this adds up to a society that perhaps isn’t quite as democratic and careful about the freedom of the individual as we would like.”

Perhaps the delicately understated final sentence is not quite so bloggerish! One cannot imagine Devil's Kitchen, for example, languidly observing that our society;

"...isn't quite as ... careful about the freedom for the individual as we would like".

I imagine McKellen had fun with the role of "Two", but I cannot picture Jim Caviezel in the McGoohan role as [Number] Six. From the trailer and advance publicity, I fear it may finally deliver on McGoohan's dishonest promise to his backers that it would be an action series. For all its failings, the original series was a thought-provoking, intelligent work. It would therefore never have made it to the small screen without McGoohan's deception. It was his project; he was co-creator, star and wrote some of it himself. We owe him for that; it's hard to imagine a remake that won't make our authoritarian leaders uncomfortable and their sycophants furious.

A genuine individualist himself, McGoohan navigated bizarre story lines carefully, somehow retaining sympathy for a character far from being loveable. Ultimately, Number Six was not even entitled to say; "I am not paranoid. They really are out to get me." The series ended in a full-on 1960s schlock episode in which Number Six is revealed also to be the mysterious, never seen but much talked-about, Number One. Symbolically, he was his own jailer and "I am out to get myself" is not quite such a good punchline. I suppose McGoohan was hinting that no man can truly be unfree without consent. It was a call to arms, perhaps, but hardly rousing.

I loved the original series, though I was a teenage collectivist when I first saw it. My strict, always-in-the-wrong, upbringing felt like life in "The Village" to me and I thought the village itself a perfect metaphor. My mental image of tyranny is a village, like the one I grew up in, where everyone knows you, there is no privacy and your every move is likely to be reported to "the authorities" (or in my case at the time, my parents). I felt cheated by the finale though. Like much 1960s culture, you needed to be on acid to appreciate the logic; which is another way to say that it had none.

The Prisoner was great television, but hugely flawed. Stylistically, it was too much of its ludicrous era. Everything good from the 60s needs to be remade, so for once the producers can do better than avoid adverse comparisons. They have something to shoot for.

Me is mine, you is yours

Here's the antidote to the propaganda your children get in school.

h/t Dick Puddlecote

The love police at Canary Wharf

I'll only be happy if banning is banned

I'll only be happy if smoking is banned | Duncan Bannatyne | Comment is free | The Observer.

You need read no more of this appalling article than this;

"Smoking should be banned in cars, and particularly any vehicle with children in it. On a school visit I met a 12-year-boy who wanted to be an athlete who told me that every morning his mother lit up when she was driving to school, even though he'd begged her to stop. He should be able to report her to the police (my emphasis).

If he could report her to the police, he ought to be ashamed of himself if he chose to do so.

I have never smoked cigarettes, but I have long had my life made intolerable by authoritarians like Duncan Bannatyne. His craving to order the lives of others is a filthy, addictive habit which should not be tolerated in a civilised society.

The central problem of politics

Those running schools, nurseries and children's homes know that paedophiles are attracted to the opportunities presented by such work. However, the law of unintended consequences means that making a fuss about the problem and treating every applicant for a job as a potential paedophile will deter non-paedophiles, making the situation worse. The best protection for the children is the quiet exercise of good judgement, coupled with a sad acceptance that - occasionally - a bad 'un will get through.

The equivalent problem in politics is that it presents tempting opportunities to those who love to interfere in the lives of others. Humanity seems to divide, not by left and right, but by those who want to be left alone and those who like to tell others what to do and how to think. A political career is as unattractive to those of us in the former category as it is attractive to those in the latter. Is it any wonder that the ratchet of tyranny clicks relentlessly through government after government?

Perhaps it is our collective fault. Every day there are stories like this one, which prove that - so far from quietly exercising good judgement - an infantile population is crying out for more "care" from Nanny; in this case demanding that she wag her finger at Hugo Chavez about poor health and safety on his nation's beaches. One can smile while imagining Il Presidente's "anti-imperialist" response, but the fact remains that this deluded woman believes the state should somehow protect her children wherever they go. Politicians are all too prepared to pander to that dangerous fantasy. They are more concerned to appear "caring" than they are afraid of being seen as idiots. Do they, or this ridiculous woman, imagine that the ugly warning signs she believes should have been there (as if the ocean itself is not warning enough) would have been in English?

Is there any way, now that we have reached this stage, that the nation can protect itself from attracting the wrong sort of staff to the national kindergarten?

If there are Libertarians here, they must be everywhere...

North West Libertarians: How did you know?.

I am honoured to have been invited to contribute to the least likely blog in British politics (if you've lived there you'll know why) - North West Libertarians. The link above will take you to my first post there.

Why does the devil have all the best tunes? (Musings on Ayn Rand's "Atlas Shrugged")

the new adventures of juliette: Atlas Bugged.

I smiled to read the recent comments on Atlas Shrugged by one of my favourite bloggers, Juliette. Click on the link above to read why Ayn Rand's writing infuriated her so much that she wanted;

"...to attack her cast of smug, annoying assholes with a length of two by four..."

I sympathise entirely. I have been reading the book for months, which is a sure sign of its imperfections. Yet it is a hugely important book, which everyone should read.

Juliette correctly summarises the attractions and the irritations of reading Rand;

"First, the good. Ayn Rand's prose style is way, way better than I was expecting. In fact, I'd say that she is, technically, an extremely good writer."

That's true, but she's a hopeless novelist, and for precisely the reason Juliette nailed in the first quote. Rand cannot create a convincing character. Having slogged painfully through 1168 pages, I admire her as a thinker but I cannot begin to imagine why she chose this vehicle for her thoughts. In truth her heroes are all her and therefore sound exactly the same. Give me a piece of dialogue from Atlas Shrugged in a year's time and I will not be able to tell you who said it. If Rand had chosen to express her ideas in music, the result would have been a new police siren.

Great writers create living, breathing characters. Sherlock Holmes is as real as you or me and will outlast both us and his author. Dickens populated a small town with his characters, each of them - even the minor ones - a recognisable individual. John Irving is the greatest living author in English precisely because he creates magnificent characters we can love, hate and care about. Rand should have written philosophy books or, dare I say it, pamphlets. I can praise her no more highly than to say she could have been the Tom Paine of her era, rather than a failed Dickens. The world needed another Common Sense far more than it needed Atlas Shrugged. Had she written it, she might have spared millions in the 20th Century the horrors of oppression and poverty.

Why, dear reader, do I recommend above (with unaccustomed emphasis) that you should put yourself through this literary torture? Why, for that matter, does this book continue to sell so strongly (about 600,000 copies a year in America) for all its defects? Because it is unique. It is missing the founding assumptions underpinning every other book I have read. 

The intellectuals of our civilisation are nurtured on anti-capitalism, from the noble characters who sneer at "trade" in the classics, to the Marxist slant of much modern literature. Even my beloved Dickens was also beloved by Lenin. His industrialists are only good men when, like the Cheerybles, they are providing deus ex machina solutions to social problems. They are never good for what gave them the power to be good. They are never good for what they are truly good at. If a novelist portrays a capitalist or industrialist sympathetically, it is by way of making excuses for him, which - of course - implies there is something to excuse. Ayn Rand sees no need for excuses. Quite the contrary. Her heroes are, startlingly, heroes for being great industrialists. The book is a hymn of praise to the contributions made to civilisation by those its intellectuals most despise; the ones who create the wealth and leisure which make an intellectual's life of the mind possible.

If you really can't face, like Juliette, the grind of reading the whole thing, I have a solution. Read a summary of the plot. The book opens with the question, "Who is John Galt?" Cheat. Find out who he is from Wikipedia. Then turn to page 1009. At that point John Galt hijacks a Presidential broadcast to deliver a three hour speech (which, implausibly, the nation listens to, understands and acts upon). Forget about how unrealistic this is as a plot device. Just read it for what it truly is; an exposition of Ayn Rand's political philosophy. Even that will involve some work, but I promise it will be worth your trouble.

It was hard to read Atlas Shrugged, but I am very glad I did. I commend it to you.

What is libertarianism?

Libertarianism – Counting Cats in Zanzibar.

This is an interesting perspective on what libertarianism means. I am not sure I entirely agree, but it's certainly a good counter to the stereotypes of "selfishness" and "anarchism".

...what’s the difference between charity and socialism? What’s the difference between a free society and a coercive state?What’s the difference between sex and rape?

Libertarianism in England never had to explain itself because it was in the national DNA. Now that it has been beaten into a corner by Socialism and statist paternalism, it is time to articulate what never before needed to be said.

Virtually the best place for Libertarians to meet?

The Libertarian Party of the UK now has about 25 members in Second Life. Other LPUK members and supporters can of course easily visit Second Life by downloading the free client software and signing up for a free account. There's no need to spend money there at all and a half-decent graphics card will cope with the load.

If I were to host a meeting/party/fundraiser in Second Life, which of these places (mostly) on my virtual estates would be the best and why (click on the pictures to enlarge, if you like)?  Be careful. Your answer may be as psychologically revealing as the less whimsical of you no doubt think the question is.

Drawing Room, Castle Nanga

Dining Room, Castle Nanga

Stonehenge

Schroedinger's Cats night club

Bar, Airship "Limoncello"

Officers' Mess, USS "Colin Campbell"

LPUK SL Offices

Tom Baker Square (an open area inside a Tardis)