The following video (posted below) is of a talk that esteemed writer Malcolm Gladwell gave, which addressed, in part, the idea of income inequality and tax policy.

I would like to preface this post by affirming my usual position as a big Gladwell fan.  He has produced some of the most scintillating non-fiction works of the last 10 years.  He has contributed greatly to the holistic zeitgeist of this country and has literally changed the way millions of people think about the world – for the better.  He is most famous for bestsellers such as “Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking” and “Outliers: The Story of Success“.  If you haven’t read any of his stuff, it’s certainly worth checking out.

That being said, his remarks in this video: (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uskJWrOQ97I) were very much off-the-mark in an number of ways.

Gladwell begins by saying that in the 1950s and 1960s the top income bracket was taxed at 91%.  He explains that “we as a society” said that you “can’t make more than $2 million”.  Those in the top tax bracket back then qualified for this distinction by earning in excess of $200,000, which translates to roughly $2 million in today’s money.  Gladwell then says, quite accurately, that America’s economy in the 1950s and 1960s was unquestionably the best in the world.  He also pointed out that the problems in America in those days didn’t have their origins in income inequality.  All of this seems reasonable on the surface and apparently points to the idea of America creating an earning “cap”.  Afterall, we have all these greedy bankers and lots of hurting people these days.  Won’t an earning cap help?  Not so fast.  There are a few problems with Gladwell’s contentions.

For starters, the tax rate of 91% of the 1950s and 1960s existed only in theory.  Quoting from an article of the Wall Street Journal:  ”the confiscatory top marginal rates of the 1950s were essentially symbolic—very few actually paid them. In reality the vast majority of top earners faced lower effective rates than they do today…The tax code of the 1950s allowed upper-income Americans to take exemptions and deductions that are unheard of today. Tax shelters were widespread, and not just for the superrich. The working wealthy—including doctors, lawyers, business owners and executives—were versed in the art of creating losses to lower their tax exposure.”  (http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424127887324705104578151601554982808.html)

People are smart.  They will avoid an absurd tax rate whenever possible and by all measures 91% is absurd.

Gladwell points to American prosperity at this time, almost to imply that America was great BECAUSE of this high tax rate when in reality the opposite was probably more true.  With American corporations at the time taxed at about twice the rate they are today, you can believe that much more money could have been invested wisely than was.  America’s economy was simply so dominant at the time that it seems the tax rate wouldn’t have mattered much anyway (unless there really was a individual 91% tax bracket without the available loopholes, which would result in a flagrant use and abuse of tax shelters.  Again, people are adept at preserving their hard-earned wealth).  America’s economy was filling the wealth void created by the Second World War.  Our wealth was fairly unstoppable.

Beyond these practical counters to Gladwell’s proposal to bring back this mythic 91% rate, we have a deeper issue that needs addressing: why should we impose a earning cap?  Gladwell seems to think that this is a good thing.  He thinks that as a society, we shouldn’t allow people to make a certain amount in order to prevent income inequality.

It’s odd that success can be so demonized.  Why is it necessarily bad for someone to make $2 million a year?  Shouldn’t we be pleased that our society has enabled people to be successful rather than be upset by how rich some are in comparison to how poor others are?  What’s often forgotten is that free markets lead to both great individual wealth but also the financial empowering of the lower classes.  No movement in history brought more people out of poverty than the free market engine of the Industrial Revolution.

Furthermore, Gladwell seems to assume that the money we would confiscate from people with a 91% tax rate would better serve society in the hands of the government.  Do we really think this is true?  Again, people are smart.  Someone who is making $2 million will presumably use that money to try to further enrich him or herself.  It’s hard to grow rich in a vacuum.  The investments that follow, the jobs that are created and the businesses that are helped all benefit from how these people use their money.  Do we think the government can reinvest that money more effectively?  The government’s track record speaks for itself: tax money often enters the “black hole” of Washington finances.   Most of it would be spent – according to current trends – on food stamps and paying down our debt, which aren’t strategies that will further improve the general wealth in a substantive way.

Philosophically, too, we must ask what right is it of ours as a society to take from another?  Does society own your paycheck just because it’s over a certain amount?  Why doesn’t Gladwell propose that those who make $200,000 or more give over their paychecks.  According to his claims, that money is presumably better in the hands of bureaucrats than those who earned it.  Why set the income cap at $2 million?

It’s just disheartening to hear such smart people call for such harmful ideas.  Yes, income equality is a problem.  The solution is not to mandate a revoking of incomes over certain amounts.  The solution is in creating opportunities for people to succeed.  That success will inevitably result in poorer people making themselves richer.  And those opportunities are only born out of the mechanisms of a healthy and FREE economy.

Gladwell, while very bright and well-meaning, is looking at the problem of income inequality backwards.  The solution is not to make the rich poor but to make the poor rich.

In late November 2012, I ran the Brooklyn Marathon.  I signed up for this race in August 2012 and decided that I was going to do it right.  And by “right” I meant that I was going to run A LOT and make sure my training was as complete as possible.  How much running was enough?  Well, the best marathoners in the world routinely log weeks consisting of 100 plus miles.  That comes out to a little shy of 15 miles a day, which sounded like a crap-ton to me.  Nevertheless, I resolved myself and decided that as a fit, 22-year old, I should be able to manage this mileage goal.  Yet, it was definitely a struggle.  I had never run that much before in my life.  My goal was to have at least two weeks at 105 miles and I somehow managed to pull that off.  It certainly wasn’t easy, especially because my “real-life” constraints mandated that I only run once a day.  Most runners doing 100 or more miles a week break up their running into two or even three workouts over the course of the day.  For me, I had to commit to logging the full 15-ish miles either early in the morning or late in the afternoon.  Neither option was particularly fun.  The following is a rough excerpt from my training log documenting one of those weeks.

Monday: I roll out of bed sore from yesterday’s 18 mile long run.  I am always sore.  All the time.  However, this nagging soreness is made all the more intolerable today because of the fact that I know that I must run 12 miles at some point in the next 24 hours in order to hit my weekly goal of 105 miles.  I have no idea how I am going to do it.  I wake up at 6 am, vaguely hoping to muster the energy to bang it out before the day starts.  Of course, this fails.  Not only is my brain too tired but my legs protest: “You did your long run late in the day yesterday!  You need to wait until this afternoon before trying to go at it again.”  Reluctantly, I oblige.  I don’t really have a choice.  The fatigue is my ever-present companion.

 I manage to slog through the 12-miler at around 5 pm.  It wasn’t pretty, but I got it done.  I rush back to my apartment, consider doing 50 pushups and 100 crunches but only managing half of that amount.  I then fall asleep at a depressingly early hour.  Where is my youth going?

Tuesday: Amazingly, the “relaxed” effort from the easy, recovery run yesterday peppered me up a little for today, and I needed it.  Tuesday is a workout day and I have a fartlek scheduled.  Fartleks are training runs with interspersed “pickups”, which are basically extended intervals of fast running scattered throughout the day’s otherwise normal miles.  Warming up is always the hardest part but once I get 2 miles in, the strain is easier.  The fast running is more manageable and I finish the 14.75 mile run feeling satisfied- albeit drained.

Wednesday:  A normal training run day.  Walking to the bathroom in the morning I swear I hear the groaning protests of rusted cranes that have somehow installed themselves in my now-crusty joints.  I hobble to the bathroom like an old man and urinate.  It’s dark yellow.  Crap.  I need to hydrate more after my runs and also eat better.  I’ve been eating too much sodium.  I spend the day sucking day as much water as possible.  The 16 miler is long, slow and tiring.  A man yelled out at me, “Run, Forest!”  That used to not be old.  I think I’ve been running too much.

Thursday: Today is nothing crazy but it’s supposed to be a faster effort than my normal training runs.  Usually I managed to hold a steady 6:20 minute/mile speed.  Today, I shoot for a 3-mile warmup followed by a 10-miler at around 6-minute pace, followed by a 2-mile cool down.  I feel myself straining for the whole way of the 10-mile leg.  It’s tough.  There’s no other way to get around it.  I know I am straining when I start to not notice my surroundings: children playing on the side of the road in the park, dogs catching Frisbees, and couples strolling along on a walk.  I forget sometimes that there is a world outside of my insane bubble of miles, fatigue and road weariness.  Normal people don’t do this shit.  It’s something I must remind myself of occasionally.

Friday:  Praise be to God.  It’s another easy day.  God knows I needed it and he was thus magnanimous enough to make today a Friday.  I eek out a meager 11 miles.  It’s a slow pace and a measly number of miles but it’s done – another run for the log book and another training session for the legs.  I wonder sometimes how many miles I’ve run in my whole life.  The number is probably somewhere between 10 and 15 thousand, which sounds like a lot, I suppose.  I’ve been running competitively since freshman year of high school.  That was 8 years ago.  I remember when 4 mile runs felt like I was venturing out on cross-continental journey.  Although age comes with perspective, I do sometimes feel a little bit of that today.  There are still those days when my legs take me places I have never been to, where I see things I never knew were there.  It’s an amazing thing being a mobile creature.  Your legs can take you farther than most would ever consider “humanly” possible.  You only truly know what your body is capable of once you’ve chased down the horizon.

Saturday: Today is another workout.  More repeat intervals except this time they are more formal than the fluidity of the fartlek.  I head to a flat stretch of road where I bang out kilometer repeat after kilometer repeat.  All are run in about 3 minutes and 20 seconds.  It boggles my mind to think that many Kenyan athletes routinely run whole marathons at a sub-3 minute kilometer pace.  The world record for the 26.2 mile event comes out to about a 4:43 minute/mile average.  That astounds me.  That’s nearly 13 mph!  Sometimes I wonder if I’m even the same species as these slender Gods of bipedalism.  The sun sets as I jog home from my meager attempt to enter the world of the speedy.

Sunday:  The holy grail of the week: the long run.  The calendar says I need to do 20-miles.  It’s always a battle to see if my legs agree with the calendar’s unforgiving prognostications.  Today, thankfully, they were cooperative.  It wasn’t anything amazing – I got it done in about 2 hours and 12 minutes – but it was important nonetheless.  It’s important to spend the time out there on the roads, not necessarily killing it, but experiencing the sensation of long, endless miles.  It’s numbing to the mind, painful to the body, and harsh on the spirit but the long run makes the runner.  There were no heroic actions today, just a sole runner plodding along in loops in a solitary park on a misty Sunday afternoon when most others are inside, eschewing the discomfort of the elements.  Running is not a heroic thing.  You will not be rewarded or congratulated or lauded by the outside world.  The finish line glory is fleeting.  The roads are where the runner truly lives.  It is there that he lives his life – and it is lived in noble quiet and stoic humility.

-I ran a new personal best in the Brooklyn Marathon this past November.  My time was 2:47 and I came in 8th place.  I suppose the 100-mile weeks paid off…perhaps in more ways than one.

Libertarianism is a growing movement.  More and more people from all walks of life are drawn to the message of freedom and liberty.  Among those who count themselves as libertarians are some very famous and influential people.  Presenting the top 5 famous libertarians…

1 Ben Harper – This musician’s urge to “Burn One Down” can certainly be seen as libertarian-leaning.  His association with the Occupy movement has also supported the idea that this reggae master is all about getting back to grassroots democracy and removing the special interests that run this country.  Another famed African-American entertainer, Chris Rock, has also expressed libertarians ideas – at least when it comes to drug policy. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=66OV_DkPBFQ)

2 Penn Jillette – One of America’s most famous magicians.  He and his silent partner, Teller, routinely dazzle crowds with their quick and witty acts, many of which include libertarian messages.  In one such act, Jillette shows his audience the importance of free speech and of the right to allow people to burn the flag should they so wish.  With a quick wave of his hand, a flame engulfs his star-spangled demonstration but what emerges is an intact Constitution. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NymRecFWgAs)

3 Jimmy Wales – Founder of Wikipedia.  A self-described “Objectivist” and libertarian, Wales’ concept of the Wiki is a real-world example of the notion of order from disorder, which Smith alluded to in his famous example of the manufacture of the pin and Hayek references when discussing the spontaneous evolution of the most important human institutions.  Language, economies, and social structures aren’t created by governments, they are made by individuals.  In similar fashion, Wales has put his libertarian philosophy to work and has showed the world that spontaneous action by individuals can create the greatest compilation of knowledge civilization has ever seen. (http://reason.com/archives/2007/05/30/wikipedia-and-beyond)

4 Drew Carey – As well as accruing fame as the host of the ‘Price is Right’, ‘Who’s Line is it Anyway’, and ‘The Drew Carey Show’, this American media star served his country as a marine when he was a younger man.  Undoubtedly, that service further drove home for Carey the importance of the Constitution and the rights it guarantees for all. (http://www.libertarianism.com/pop_celebrity/drew-carey)

5 Peter Thiel – A grade-A internet entrepreneurial rock star.  Thiel first made it big as a co-founder of PayPal.  Before that he was a judicial clerk but decided that his future was in growing companies, something he does very aptly to this day.  His venture capital investments helped provide the seed money for Facebook as well as numerous other dot-com startups.  He has recently made headlines as an advocate opposing the traditional 4-year undergraduate model of higher education.  This force of Silicon Valley has preached for years on the importance of limited government, personal freedom and individual rights.  Thiel, a gay man, considers the fight for civil liberties a very personal one and sees the future prosperity of this country tied up in the willingness of our government to promote both free enterprise and the freedom to live as we all so choose. (http://betabeat.com/2012/06/peter-thiels-interesting-new-investment/)

It’s common knowledge that Kenyan runners do very well in international competition.  As a result, they bring home great deal of economy-boosting prize money.

Recently, the head of Athletics Kenya, Isaiah Kiplagat has asked the Kenyan government to not tax these earnings.  His argument is based on the fact that many athletes are already taxed on these winnings in the countries where they were earned.  He wants the money earned by Kenyan athletes to be immune from taxes.

The dual argument he puts forth is that not taxing the winnings will benefit Kenya, which will enjoy the fruits of reinvestment, and also that the runners work hard to represent Kenya (very successfully) on a global scale and that it’s not right to punish them with burdensome taxes.  It’s only natural that Mr. Kiplagat, as the head representative of Kenyan athletes, would want his runners to avoid taxes.

However, further analysis of this conflict between the Kenyan tax authorities and the Kenyan runners reveals an underlying problem with the way Kenya, and much of East Africa, operates and why it will hold them back globally.

Firstly, there is an inherent problem with the fact that Mr. Kiplagat is asking the government to not collect taxes that are legally due.  Taxes should be a non-negotiable thing and if they are to change that change should come from a legislative body that has the authority to alter the code.

Alas, this is the nature of African taxation.  Governments in these countries are often so inefficient that they are only able to collect a modicum of the taxes that they actually levy.  As a result, the collection becomes an unfair process.  The government will grab at what it can, when it can.  Lord knows they need the money.

The current Kenyan strategy is to tax everything under the sun in the hopes that the government will get some money.  This, of course, discourages economic growth.  Kenya is driving away potential capital and this latest episode between Mr. Kiplagat and the tax man is truly evident of how it is doing this.

Kenya Revenue Authority representative Kennedy Onyonyi responded to Kiplagat’s demand by saying that only some foreign winnings will be taxed.  “We shall only target athletes who will have paid less than 30 per cent in taxation in countries where they will have won the money,” Onyonyi said.

Again, this stuff should not be up for negotiation.  The head of the taxing authority shouldn’t need to clarify a tax rule just because of media attention.  That’s no way to run a government.  Tax rules should be simple, fair and unwavering, and these three criteria are very much interrelated.  A simple and fair (read: optimally low) tax would prevent tax-dodging and encourage domestic Kenyan investment, making it easy for tax collection to be unwavering.

A 30% tax bracket is high.  There’s no other way to cut it.  It’s especially high for athletes who ideally will make what would be considered a middle-income salary in the first-world.  This isn’t LeBron James we’re dealing with.  Even the most successful runners lag far behind other sports in terms of earning power.  The middle-of-the-road Kenyan runner is simply trying to get by.  He’s hoping to earn enough to buy a farm, which he can then use to support his indigent family.

“We are not targeting athletes per se but casting our net wide to reach those not complying with taxation requirements”, said Onyonyi.  That “net” imagery is exactly the sort of thing Kenya should avoid.  If it ever hopes to become a mature economy, it should aim to model its tax code on the notion of a filter.

Mr. Onyonyi, Mr. Kiplagat and others in Kenya’s government need to understand that it’s okay to tax the income of the nation’s prized runners but that there is an optimal level at which to do this.  Mr. Kiplagat shouldn’t be getting away with the argument that a profession of Kenyans deserves to be free of taxes and Mr. Onyonyi should have a uniform and fair tax code in place.

In the long-run, changing Kenya’s tax collection scheme from a “net” to a “filter” would eventually bring greater revenue into the country and would force the bloated government to reform itself.

As a good first step, Mr. Onyonyi should read some Milton Friedman and Mr. Kiplagat should read up on the French Revolution for a lesson on preferential tax policy.

-Quotes from Onyonyi: http://www.nation.co.ke/sports/athletics/KRA+remain+firm+as+athletes+tell+taxman+to+keep+off+prize+money/-/1100/1530634/-/exca0w/-/index.html

-Other information, on Kiplagat, etc, see: http://www.standardmedia.co.ke/?articleID=2000067025&story_title=AK-pleads-with-taxman-not-to-tax-athletes).

Micronations.  Yep, they’re a thing.  Well, sort of.  Micronations are pseudo-legal national entities scattered about the globe.  Most aren’t recognized by the international community but that doesn’t stop them from getting a kick out of being the quirky “nations” that they are.  Have you ever wanted to turn your bedroom into a sovereign country?  Well, apparently you’re not alone and now you have a model to follow:  Presenting the top 5 micronations…

 

1. Republic of Molossia:

The 50-year old president of this 1.3 acre nation has described his government as a dictatorial banana-republic.  This “former” resident of Nevada succeeded from the United States in 1999 and declared his desert property an independent country.  President Kevin Baugh has a national anthem, a currency and even a customs station that keeps incandescent light bulbs and tobacco off his land, which are banned commodities in Molossia.

Baugh willingly gives tours of his nation/house, which is surrounded entirely by Nevada.  His republic is also supposedly in a war with East Germany, which you can support through the purchase of Molossian war bonds.  President Baughmakes us beg the question: why the hell don’t more people declare their homes independent nations in order to sell fictional stamps and war bonds to idiots?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Molossia_-_President_Kevin_Baugh_1.jpg

http://www.molossia.org/countryeng.html

 

2. Republic of Minerva:

This one is actually not a joke, at least for the people who were actually involved.  In the early 1970s, a bunch of fed-up, eccentric libertarians got together and decided to try to set up a new nation on a pacific shoal known as the Minervan Reefs.  They actually sunk quite a bit of money into the project and in 1971 got several shipments of sand from Australia to be deposited on the site, which wasn’t fully above the water line.

 

They landed and even constructed a small tower and raised a flag.  The settlers declared their independence in a message to the surrounding islands who, for some reason, felt threatened by a new nation being founded in their turf.  In what is probably the only “action” it will ever see, the army from the neighboring island of Tonga landed on Minerva and effectively killed the project.  They destroyed the tower and today the island has been essentially reclaimed by the sea.  Gotta protect those worthless reefs, right?  Those uppity Tongans are always ruining the cool stuff.

 

http://www.landfallnavigation.com/minervareefs.html

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/18/MinervaReef3.jpg

 

3. Principality of Sealand

Have you ever felt the urge to live out your days on a 6,000 square foot ocean rig?  If you are insane enough to act on this urge you should apply for citizenship with the Principality of Sealand, a cement tower 8 miles off the coast of Britain.  It was built during World War II in what are legally international waters.  An oddball by the name of Paddy Roy Bates set up shop in 1975 with a radio station.  He declared himself a prince and spent much of his life fighting UK courts for recognition.

 

Sealand is a tad more legit than the desert Republic of Molossia.  It actually has a claim to sovereignty, even though it isn’t recognized by any country and, for a desolate ocean tower, it’s seen its fair share of exiting shit – most notably a 1978 James Bond-style helicopter battle for control of the tower that resulted in the capture of a German imposter to the Sealand “throne”.  The German government actually had to send a diplomat to negotiate for the usurper’s release.

 

More recently, Sealand has seen some success as a web-hoster and issuer of passports (fittingly colored with a camouflaged design).  Bates died recently and his son is now the regent.  The immediate goal of Bates Jr. is to set up a casino on Sealand.  Blackjack anyone?

 

http://www.muu.fi/amorph03/downloads/pdfs/principality_of_sealand.pdf

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Sealandafterfire2.JPG

 

4. Principality of Hutt River

Australia has a solid history of micronations.  Having thousands of square miles of worthless land can have that effect.  Who cares if some farmers want to live off the grid?  That’s exactly what the Aussies figured when Leonard Casley succeeded from Western Australia in the 1970s.  He was pissed off because of unfair wheat regulations and decided to set up his own nation.  Australia had two years to respond to the succession and decided it wasn’t worth their time so now Hutt River exists de facto.  Australia initially wouldn’t process its mail, which had to be routed through Canada, but they’ve since resolved this international crisis.

 

The only time the authorities actually got concerned was when taxes came due…obviously.  In response to the taxman’s demands, Casley declared “war” for several days in 1977.  The official current stance is that Hutt River is a private entity and that income earned there is not taxable by Australia.  The 30-square mile ranch is home to about 20 people and actually has had several foreign companies register there for tax purposes.  Not bad, Casley.  You’ve gone from cranky old farmer to a literal prince of a tax haven that receives 40,000 visitors a year.

 

http://www.principality-hutt-river.com/

 

5. The Republic of Rose Island

As we saw with the Minerva reefs, you know you’re on to something when your micronation incites military action.  Rose Island was Italy’s most successful micronation – that is until the Italian navy blew it up because it thought the artificial island republic was an unlawful tax refuge.

 

Rose Island was the brainchild of an engineer who apparently had spare time on the weekends and decided to build an autonomous 4,300 square foot ocean platform 7 miles off the coast of Italy, a la Principality of Sealand just a lot swankier.  Rose Island had a restaurant, radio station, night club, and post office.  It declared independence in 1968 but that didn’t last too long.  Apparently, Rose Islanders tried to negotiate with Italy but (go figure) they were ignored.  The ocean republic currently self-identifies as a nation in exile.

 

http://rose-island.livenations.net/

http://opinioni-di-una-mamma.blogspot.com/2007/01/linsulo-de-rozojstoria-di-una-fiaba-di.html

The sliding glass doors of the office opened automatically and the acoustics of the metallically insulated room created an echo of the man’s knee-high, leather military-style boots as he strode into the dim, blue-lit space.  He carried under his arm a simple manila folder and his cap, emblazoned with four stars across the crest.  Sitting in front of him was another impeccably dressed officer, who ignored his guest and continued typing on a keyboard attached to a flat monitor exuding more blue light.  There was a flag on the wall with an emblem of a green globe against a blue square.  This same symbol was found on the uniforms of the two men.

Next to the flag was a map of the world.  There were no clearly marked national, political borders; only dotted lines indicating continental provinces.

Neither officer had a name-tag on his uniform, only tags with a string of numbers that indicated their rank, number, and current base of operations.  The one who had entered the room now clapped his heels together, intending the sharp snap to get the other man’s attention.

The typist ceased his work, turned his swivel chair and placed his long, white spindly fingers on the empty surface of his glass desk.  It was hard to tell who was of a higher rank.  They both carried blank expressions.

“Yesss…?”  The typist was clearly irritated by the interruption.

Without saying a word, the standing officer placed the manila folder on the table.  It was stamped with the same globe-insignia that adorned the flag and their uniforms.  He opened the folder, retrieved a document and placed it before the other man.

“I am sure, commander, that you are aware of the audit currently underway at global headquarters.”

The other man’s eyes switched from the paper to his guest’s face, “News of it reached my office.”  The commander replied cautiously.

“Good.  Then you have undoubtedly been expecting this visit.”  The man with the manila folder now flashed a badge that indicated that he was an audit officer and that his task was to “economize” the Department of Human Services.

The commander looked from the paper to the badge and then to the paper again, his face contorting as if a sour lemon wedge were being forced through his very pale lips.  “In fact, I was not.  It was last my understanding that HQ had a special place for this office.  Our work has been continuous for the last decade and has provided some valuable insight into both waste management as well as our understanding of the fundamentals of human society.”

The auditor had an uncaringly, even bored air about him, as if he had already been on a dozen assignments exactly similar to this one, shutting down department after department in clockwork fashion.  “The priorities of headquarters are none of your concern…commander”, he seemed to throw this title in as an almost condescending afterthought.  It was clear that the auditor had high authority here.  The papers indicated that he was a direct representative of the Global Council.  That gave him supreme authority over almost all other officers.  “You are to receive your orders and be grateful for them.  My superiors are well aware of the time that this office has been operational.  But time is no immunity to the inevitability of balancing the books and that time for restoring fiscal order has come.  HQ has made the budget its priority and has said that a careful analysis of each and every program, department, office, branch, and division is to be undertaken.  Strengths and weaknesses were analyzed.  Your office, commander, I’m sorry to say, has fallen under the category of B-1 program.”

“And what does that mean exactly?”

“It means that depending on the information I am to receive in the next 10 minutes, your office will either continue to exist after my audit is complete or it will be shut down completely and its resources be salvaged for the public good.”

“And what information is that?”  Each man seemed to be attempting to outdo the other in maintaining a more stoic demeanor.

“I am to discern what your office has learned after ten years.”

“Well I must simply say that I object to this analysis”, the commander said, sounding genuinely insulted.

“You do not have a right to object to an edict from HQ.”

“Yes, but, if HQ wants a report, then I can provide a full report and have it delivered to them by the end of the day.  Reducing the work of this office to a 10-second sound bite will not convey accurate information regarding our progress.”

“Or failures, I presume…”

The commander narrowed his eyes and said nothing.

The auditor continued, “Well, in any event, my orders were clear and specific.  If HQ had wanted a full report they would have asked for one.  Clearly they felt that my discretion regarding this matter would suffice.”

The commander loosened his collar and took a deep breath.  The auditor pressed a button on the empty desk and a metallic cylinder emerged from the floor.  He sat on this pillar and clicked open a pen.  “Now.  Let us proceed.”  He was clearly a man who relished in the unrelenting finality of his job.  “Briefly explain the history and current standing of this project.”

Taking a deep breath before beginning, the commander spoke clearly and carefully, “This is the office of social research, island division, a branch of the department of human service.  This project began ten years ago when fifteen islands, all approximately 25 miles by 25 miles in area, were constructed in the Pacific quadrant out of landfill material that had been reverse-engineered.”

“And what is the current status and quality of the land itself?”

“Quite good.  The research implemented was able to turn a multitude of plastics into a compostable soil, fertile for plantings.”

“Go on…”  The auditor was now writing continuously and hadn’t looked at the commander since he began.  He was also recording the commander’s monologue with a recorder.

“It was decided that this new land would be an ideal place to test human social interaction in an untainted environment.  Each island was assigned a slightly different system of law in an effort to determine the strengths and weaknesses of various systems of governance throughout the history of the world……as it is the policy of our global government to determine practical value from the entirety of past human experience.”  Aware of the tape recorder, and the listening ears of the party higher-ups, the commander seemed to sneak in the last clause.  He desperately wanted to show he was on board with their teachings.  “These forms ranged from a theocratic island to a communist island, an island ruled by republican plebiscite, a pure democracy, a monarchy.  And so on.”

“And how were subjects provided?”  The auditor sounded unenthused, as if this was all information he already knew.

“As is customary for such experiments, they came from the general clone pool.  Each island began with a fresh batch of diverse clones, 1,000 in total, all at the age of 20, half female and half male.  The islands all had, and still have, commanders whose responsibility it was to create the system that had been assigned for each island.  These officials served as the creators of government for the subjects.  It was found that after instituted in the first generation, the officials generally didn’t need to reinforce the governmental style.  It became habitual.”

“And what were the results?  Ten years on?”

The commander hesitantly glanced around the room and said, “Mixed.”

“In what way?”

“We had little trouble preserving social order on any island, but it was difficult finding the right balance of control.  It was, um, difficult to get them to the level we wanted, to make the people…productive.”  The commander had difficulty finding this last word.  “As with most clones, they were raised only with stone-age technology.”

“Well, which island had the most quantifiable success?”

Again the commander hesitated before answering, “We tried to measure success in several ways including population growth, resource management, enlargement of wealth, economic activity, the ability to mobilize and undertake large projects…”

“And?”

“And none of the active test subjects came anywhere close to the island that was clearly the most successful.”

“Which was?”  The auditor now looked up for the first time since he began the questioning and seemed genuinely interested for the first time.

“An island that wasn’t really a part of the original experiment.”

The auditor now stared at the commander angrily, perhaps thinking that the commander was leading him on with this fairy tale in a meek attempt to drag out the interview.  Coldly, he said, “Commander.  I believe you need to explain yourself.”

Nervously clearing his throat, the commander said, “It is common practice to include a placebo in most experiment.  It was no different in this experiment.  One island was set aside and given no direction whatsoever.  No officials were assigned to it.  The 1,000 subjects on it were allowed to roam the island freely.  They weren’t given any instruction on how to farm, or care for themselves, or govern in any particular style.  Nothing.”

The auditor furrowed his brow, seemingly unable to come to terms with the logic of letting 1,000 very expensive artificially grown human test subjects to run wild in the forests of a newly formed piece of experimental land.

The commander, sensing the loss of patience on the part of the auditor quickly added, “It was expected that this island would descend into anarchy, or would destroy itself in tribal feuding.  And that is actually what happened for the first year or two.  But then, almost remarkably, this island somehow pulled itself together, with no provided leadership and was able to self-organize.  The subjects there created a unique council-form of government with a heavy emphasis on individual property rights.  And this island – island thirteen – has succeeded in sustaining a larger population that is faster-growing than any of the others.  It creates more wealth than any of the others combined and seems to have less local feuding and violence than any of the others.”

“What is your measure of wealth?”

“They are mostly agrarian societies that have developed, so that is our main standard.  The islands have proven to be quite fruitful.”

“Well, that’s good news at least.  More land to feed the many hungry of the world.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Commander, your report has clearly indicated a lapse in judgment in allowing this program to continue for as long as it did.  This misguided attempt to learn some greater truth about human nature has only cost the International Government time and money and has directed precious resources from those in dire need toward skewed social tinkering.”

The commander stood in protest, “But, I demand to know what you find incredible about our methods.  We followed orders…religiously.”

“Your methods may have been true, but the results speak for themselves.  You have 15 primitive societies that have achieved nothing –as one would expect since they are cut off from civilization – and your only grain of achievement was an outlier with an inexplicable success story?  No, commander, this is a question that was better left unaddressed.”

“What if island thirteen wasn’t a fluke?”

This bold question stopped the auditor cold.  He straightened up, leaned close to the commander and said only, “Believe me.  It was.  Headquarters will not accept the…heresy that that island implies.”

“Which is?”

The auditor grinned at the sly remark, “Why don’t you tell me, commander?  You’re the expert.”

Publicly stating to a high official that an experiment he had conducted indicated that humans operate best when not under the control of an imposed government would not only kill his career but would possibly threaten his life.  This idea was the very antithesis of their global government.  The commander wisely held his tongue and said nothing.

The auditor’s face was grim as he shuffled together his papers and then turned to face the commander, “I’m sure you know that this office will be shut down tomorrow.  The official paperwork will arrive in several hours.  You are to forward all data regarding this experiment to the office of information.  The papers you will receive will have your new assignment.” The auditor turned and began walking back toward the automatic door.

After taking two steps toward the door, he stopped and turned his head so his profile, outlined by the blue light, was facing the commander, “that is, assuming you have another assignment after this abomination.”

The commander once again appeared icy and emotionless.  He watched the auditor leave and then sat and stared at his computer monitor for a long time.  Finally, he typed up orders to shut down the project, which would involve eradicating the islands, disposing of the people, and seizing the resources they had collected.  Switching off his monitor, he stood, put on his cap, and took one last look at the politically homogenous map of the Earth hanging from the adjacent wall before leaving the iridescent blue office for the last time.

(Caution: Minor spoilers, but nothing overwhelming)…

A healthy surplus of action, several generous dashes of  love-making, a sprinkling of combative chases, and finally (and perhaps most importantly) a drop or two precious insights into the protagonist’s clouded soul.

That’s basically the recipe that the Broccoli family has come up with for cranking out the latest series of Bond films, premiering their new (literally) golden boy, Daniel Craig.  And, quite honestly, I must say that I am impressed.

Old Bond v. New Bond

It’s necessary to preface that opining with the truth that I was very taken by “Casino Royale” when it first came out so I very well may be prejudiced when it comes to favoring films with the Craig Bond.  ”Royale” was just so fresh and new.  It was an exhilarating breath of modernity, realism, and grittiness infused into a franchise that was a classic but in need of a younger image.  That being said, I think all can agree that “Quantum Solace” fell short.  ”Royale” left audiences hungry to see what would become of the ashes of Bond’s one-true love with Vesper.  What we got was a script that seemed to skirt around all the desirable bits, only affording us slivers of  great plot development.  ’Twas the typical anticlimactic sequel.  ”Skyfall”, however, has restored my faith in the Craig dynasty.

Let’s admit it, Pierce Brosnan was, and in many ways still is, the quintessential Bond of which we all instinctively think.  His jet-black hair, eternally unruffled tuxedo, poised demeanor, and unfazed stoicism were impressive the first time around but were beginning to get a tad unbelievable by “Die Another Day“.  We get it.  Bond, regardless of the actor, is confident and always in control, and he always snags the girl with his charm.  That’s a cool part of the character that we all love to see but the newer films offer something more.

The Craig Bond seems to have effectively taken the best elements of the old and combined them with the needed ingredients for a successful  modern action movie franchise.  Change can throw off the traditional fan base, which was used to Sean Connery‘s debonair bravado, but sometimes it’s necessary, especially when the renovation is being done to a character that still tinkered around with fancy watches that appear clunky by today’s mini-digital standards.  The new Bond in “Skyfall” is given only a tiny radio and a pistol – of course one that only works when he holds it – and that’s all.  He’s more of a commando, more suited to his title of “Commander”, and less of a suave playboy superhero.

Why “Skyfall” Was Good

Never fear, old school-ers.  Craig still gets the girls and still lays on the charm with all the oozing confidence of Pierce Brosnan, except now there’s a refreshing taste of believability   Craig’s Bond isn’t invincible   He’s nearly killed in the opening action scene; certainly not a traditional way to introduce a character most see as unstoppable.  Yet, his aura comes from the fact that he is confident in losing first and then rebounding.  Sure, there are elements of this in every Bond film but it is especially evident in ‘Skyfall’ because of the climax, which literally brings the action to Bond’s former doorstep.

It’s a newer, fresher image.  Everyone from Bond, right down to the new, young and tech-savy Q, brings energy to the audience.  The locations also exude a feeling of newness.  There are plenty of scenes in China and the Far East; surely subtle hints to the vibrant future and not to the antiquated past.

The filmmakers were wise to keep the plot close to the M16 intelligence world.  This grounds the story somewhat.  Bond isn’t off on personal crusade.  Those are fun sometimes but the story seems stronger when Bond is actively trying to solve some breach in global security.  He’s defending his home base, making the tension stronger and the danger seemingly more real given the state of the world today.

The writers, I think, know just how much viewers thirst for a taste of what makes the protagonist tick and that, I think, is the strongest asset this latest Bond has going for it; emotional depth coupled with the traditional flashy elements all grounded in a somewhat believable story-line.  ’Skyfall’ obliges – at least partially.  They do, after all, need to keep us wanting more.  We learned in ‘Royale’ that Bond is an orphan and in “Skyfall” we learned even more about his troubled past.  The climax, featuring a staged battle between the terrorist henchmen of a rouge, former M16 agent and an embattled Bond holed up in the manorial home of his dead parents, was as symbolic as it was pyrotechnic-heavy.  The auto-bot of Brosnan is not missed.  Again, realism adds to the quality.

As well as delving into Bond’s past, we also learn just what his life is in the moment.  We learn definitively where his loyalties lie.  There is never any hint of Bond’s unwavering loyalty, not to his queen, his country, his job, nor his boss.  He is the ideal, duty-bound British hero.  He isn’t meant to be seen a pitied anti-hero or tragic figure but a full-blown hero, regaled with all the resplendence of traditional nationalism, heroic individuality,  as well as a peppering of misogynism and arrogance.

His greatest loyalty  is to his boss, M, and this relationship is really more than just a dog-like devotion to a sanguine profession.  It’s matriarchal.  There are hints of this previous films, but the point is really driven home, maybe in a heavy-handed way, when M and Bond share a scene at the height of the film at the place where his parents are buried.

Maybe this is why Bond is still so fascinating to audiences.  In some ways he’s a relic.  He’s an ideal nationalistic, loyal to an empire that passed from its glory 50 years ago.  But part of us wants to believe in the romance that that image conveys.  Bond travels the world righting the wrongs of the former empire with a cool gravitas and unflinching certainty, even in the face of moral quandaries.  At the very least, he’s a great exporter of  ideal “projected” British culture.  He may be a relic, but he’s cool.

Which leads me to the critiques.

Why “Skyfall” Was Bad

Firstly, Bond has gotten better but it’s still a tad heavy-handed and could do better at balancing realism with the usual awesomeness.  It’s nowhere near as bad as it was with the Pierce Brosnan or Sean Connery versions, but it can be a good deal more believable   The plot, while better than most, is still slightly incredulous.  The all-powerful super villain carries out an amazingly successful attack on the city of London.  He’s also somehow able to hijack a helicopter and a SWAT team in preparation for the final battle of the film, as if Britain’s entire RAF would be disabled by one man.  But I digress.  The villain was adequate.  Better than Gold finger but there’s room for improvement   That being said, Javier Bardem, the actor who played the villain, was terrifically creepy and I’m sure did a fine job of scaring all the 12-year olds who went to the premiere.

Also, while all Bond films are misogynistic  this one, I must honestly say as an objective male who normally doesn’t take umbrage to such things, had a particularly offensive moment.  In one scene, Bond appears to strong-arm his way into a sexual contractual agreement with a former sex-worker both, it seems, in order to get to her employer (the arch-villain) but also to seemingly assert personal dominance over her.  Forbes ran a fine article on this point: (http://www.forbes.com/sites/jeffbercovici/2012/11/09/james-bond-in-skyfall-hero-patriot-and-exploiter-of-sex-trafficking-victims/).

The feminists are also sure not to overlook the film’s treatment of M, which was brilliantly necessary but rather sad.  Too, Money Penny’s relocation to a desk position after she appeared to develop a feeble disposition after accidentally shooting Bond in the field also comes across as mildly poor in taste for the ladies in the audience.

Bond, you’re on the right track.  Keep embracing the realism and personality without losing your suave elegance and your franchise will be secure.  You have your orders, double-o-seven.

 

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