THE STORY SO FAR: PART 148

IF ONE PERSON GRABS ALL THE MARBLES, THEN THERE CANNOT BE A GAME

Being a writer, I have always taken issue with the expression, “A picture is worth a 1,000 words,” but I have to admit the above graphic makes the point with a vengeance. I think it is a tragedy. Here is this wonderful, richly endowed country—and, essentially, it is being hogged by a tiny minority. Meanwhile, the majority—the 90%—are getting poorer by the day. That is a scenario that cannot end well.

I know most people hate statistics—and I am not exactly a fan of the statistical approach to economics myself—but the figures about where the U.S. is heading would scare a nun out of her habit (I grew up in the days when nuns wore such things—and then one day I encountered a nun in a mini-skirt at a school reception; and life has never been the same since). But back to the matter at hand.

Here are some details from a recent Robert Reich blog:

A newly-released analysis by the Economic Policy Institute shows that the super-rich have done well in the economic recovery while almost everyone else has done badly. The top 1 percent of earners' real wages grew 8.2 percent from 2009 to 2011, yet the real annual wages of Americans in the bottom 90 percent have continued to decline in the recovery, eroding by 1.2 percent between 2009 and 2011.

Not even the very wealthy can continue to succeed without a broader-based prosperity. That's because 70 percent of economic activity in America is consumer spending. If the bottom 90 percent of Americans are becoming poorer, they're less able to spend. Without their spending, the economy can't get out of first gear.

That's a big reason why the recovery continues to be anemic, and why the International Monetary Fund just lowered its estimate for U.S. growth in 2013 to just 2 percent.

Almost a quarter of all jobs in America now pay wages below the poverty line for a family of four. The Bureau of Labor Statistics estimates 7 out of 10 growth occupations over the next decade will be low-wage -- like serving customers at big-box retailers and fast-food chains.

If they were rational, the wealthy would support public investments in education and job-training, a world-class infrastructure (transportation, water and sewage, energy, internet), and basic research -- all of which would make the American workforce more productive.

If they were rational they'd even support labor unions -- which have proven the best means of giving working people a fair share in the nation's prosperity.

But labor unions are almost extinct.

The decline of labor unions in America tracks exactly the decline in the bottom 90 percent's share of total earnings, and shrinkage of the middle class.

In the 1950s, when the U.S. economy was growing faster than 3 percent a year, more than a third of all working people belonged to a union. That gave them enough bargaining clout to get wages that allowed them to buy what the economy was capable of producing.

Since the late 1970s, unions have eroded -- as has the purchasing power of most Americans, and not coincidentally, the average annual growth of the economy.

Last week the Bureau of Labor Statistics reported that as of 2012 only 6.6 percent of workers in the private sector were unionized. (That's down from 6.9 percent in 2011.) That's the lowest rate of unionization in almost a century.

The average pay of a Walmart worker is $8.81 an hour. A third of Walmart's employees work less than 28 hours per week and don't qualify for benefits.

Walmart is a microcosm of the American economy. It has brazenly fought off unions. But it could easily afford to pay its workers more. It earned $16 billion last year. Much of that sum went to Walmart's shareholders, including the family of its founder, Sam Walton.

The wealth of the Walton family now exceeds the wealth of the bottom 40 percent of American families combined, according to an analysis by the Economic Policy Institute.

 

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 147

DO YOU LIKE YOUR JOB? IF YOU DO, YOU ARE IN A MINORITY

IS THERE SOMETHING FUNDAMENTALLY WRONG WITH U.S. MANAGEMENT CULTURE—SUBJECT TO SOME IMPRESSIVE EXCEPTIONS?

Recently I ran across an article by Mark C. Crowley—in  www.fastcompany.com —in which he which he stated that according to research by the Conference Board and Gallup, more than half the U.S. population hate their jobs. That is a truly worrying statement.

It adds up to quite an indictment of American management—particularly because a great deal of research, not to mention common sense—has shown that unhappy workers don’t work nearly as well as contented ones. The value of this loss of enthusiasm has been estimated at $300 billion, but I suspect the reality is much, much higher—and that is before you count in human misery and the other consequences of stress (illness and death being just two outcomes).

Worse—generally speaking—U.S. management seems to be largely indifferent to this situation. Instead, it seems to be quite content to engage in management by coercion, to drive down earnings wherever possible, to destroy unions, and to steadily degrade the quality of workers’ lives. The defined pension is going the way of the dodo; the cost of healthcare is increasingly being dumped on workers; and the U.S. remains the only country in the developed world where the law does not mandate adequate vacation time—if any—and most workers can be discharged on a whim. The majority of non-government American jobs offer virtually no security.

Management will respond that corporations survived The Great Recession in surprisingly good shape, and that corporate profits are now at an all time high. Very true. But meanwhile the U.S. market, which underpins U.S. demand, is steadily being drained of purchasing power—thus undermining longer term corporate prospects (if they are dependent on the home market).

I don’t think it is an accident that Americans live substantially shorter lives than those of other developed nation—and get sicker as we age. There is no one reason. There is a multiplicity of reasons ranging from lack of healthcare to pollution—but I have no doubt at all that unhappiness with working conditions plays a significant role.

The truly disturbing aspect of all this is there seems to be no outcry at this situation. The unions have been virtually crushed. Politicians rarely discuss such issues any more—and workers are afraid to raise such matters because they fear—quite rightly—that they will be fired if they do. That is a truly ironic situation in The Land of The Free and suggests that our much talked about freedoms are heavily compromised in reality

All I can say is that this is a genuinely great country, and we should be able to do vastly better than this if for no other reason than treating your workers well can lead to vastly greater profitability. And it happens to be the right thing to do.

Some corporation do much better, and reap the financial rewards. Arguably there are many of them, though they are certainly in a minority. Google is widely considered to be one of them, but The Great Place To Work Institute considers analytics giant SAS to be the best of the bunch. There, vast effort is put into making sure workers feel both happy and secure. As a consequence, personnel turnover is 2-3% in an industry where 22% is the norm, the firm is impressively innovative, productive and profitable—and the founder is now the 47th richest man in the U.S. and is estimated to be worth $7.3 billion.

Could it be that treating one’s workforce well pays?

Capital and labor made peace in Europe after World War II. There had been so much dissension, and so much blood had been spilled, that it seemed like the only sensible thing to do. Workers were given significant rights, and such arrangements have stood the test of time.

Nothing similar has happened in the U.S. and we are now living with the consequences. One of them is that there has been no significant increase in worker earning power—if one allows for inflation—in forty years. Secondly, it is a simple measurable fact that currently the U.S. Middle Class is being crushed out of existence.

One of the people who understands this best is Robert Reich. He has proved to be right on the money over a number of years. May I thoroughly recommend his book

 

 

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 146

HOW DO WE REMAIN CALM IN THE FACE OF ADVERSITY? AFTER ALL, PANIC IS SO APPEALING

Recently, I have experienced a number of setbacks—so this topic is near and dear to my heart.

But do I have answers? I am far from sure that I have. However, I have become convinced that staying calm is, in itself, a prime virtue.

Calmness, like fear, is infectious. If you remain calm, there is a reasonable possibility that others around you will remain calm also. And you will think more rationally (which is not necessarily saying a lot).

As readers of this blog will know, I come from a large and complex family where emotional over-reaction was the norm. Here, the primary actor was my mother who, having worked herself up to an uncontrollable rage—the “tell” was that she would click her fingers as if counting down to an explosion—would then lash out both physically and verbally to a degree that makes phrases like “physical abuse” and “verbal abuse” seem entirely inadequate.

As for physical abuse, its primary form was a slap on the face delivered with all her strength. A slap from her was akin to a punch—and the fact that she wore numerous rings would add to the pain and the impact. Recipients would reel, or fall—and the pain was considerable. Worse was the psychological pain. It was often far from clear what you had done wrong wrong—if anything—and then there was the prospect of another unexpected, and frequently unjustified, blow. And, all of that apart, it was terrifying to be out of mother’s favor. Under such circumstances, you were a target.

Such a background was not conducive to learning how to remain calm—and, for much of my life, I have had a tendency to over-react. Nonetheless, I have steadily progressed to more Zen like behavior, and I am currently celebrating my fourth year without losing my temper. How have I managed that? I just decided to in a very conscious way—and then found the decision fairly easy to implement. Occasionally logic works. My intellect told me there was no upside to losing my cool. No one could be more surprised at the outcome than me.

My friend, Vaughn, says life is hugely about “managing one’s fears.” I tend to agree, but am far from sure how to do that. I wish I had answers—because this is a really important issue—but I don’t. I do know that a sense of humor, leavened with a sense of the ridiculous, helps. When I was growing up, that much used facility was known as “black humor.” Today, I’m told that is politically incorrect.

When I feel like panicking, I always think of a marvelous line delivered by Kris Kristopherson in BLUME IN LOVE. In it, he is asked—since his life is in the pits—why isn’t he panicking?

He replies: “I passed panic on Tuesday.”

That ridiculous, wonderful line has sustained me through more crises than I care to mention,

 

 

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 145

IS WRITING ABOUT WRITING REALLY WRITING—OR MERELY SELF INDULGENT?

OR DOES IT DO SOME GOOD?

I’m completely convinced that the single most important thing to do—if you want to master the craft of writing (an impossible goal within a human lifespan) is to write every day for a decade or two, and then—with luck, and a following wind—you’ll begin to get the hang of it.

If that sounds too grim a prospect, then you should probably find another line of work—and I say that respectfully. Writing is a hard taskmaster and not really a rational way to make a living. But those who are called have little choice in the matter. We write because it is an imperative.

In truth, learning to write—once you have mastered the basics of literacy—isn’t grim at all. The struggle is a good part of the fun, and if you stay with it—and that is the hard part—you will get better.

Now, you won’t feel that way if you have spent day after day staring at a blank screen—not knowing what to write—but if you have made the effort to write something (just about anything) this approach will work. It’s all about having something to say in the first place—a factor that is ignored more often than one might think—and then linking your brain to your fingers—a short distance physically, but a mental divide of Grand Canyon proportions.

Spanning it demands time, huge effort, and fortitude. Nothing less will do. 

But why am I writing about writing? Well, because I have recently had a letter from Dr. Gerald L. Kovacich—Jerry Kovacich—saying as follows:

I was going through old backup files and found the article you had written about writing that I thoroughly enjoyed. (copy attached, with my added thoughts for a talk I gave on writing many years ago, when I had hair and yours was not white! :-)) ).

I re-read it and found it as useful as when I first read it some decade-plus ago.

I sent it to my son-in-law who will be writing his first book soon - albeit one on education based on his PhD in Education but still your thoughts are very relevant.

As for me, moved on from information warfare-computer security books (15 total), retired to write more on life's philosophy with a Poems of Life: Thoughts of Human Experiences and now onto another book on our human experiences but in a more narrative form.

I guess mellowed out over the years and no longer care about protecting computers, instead using computers only as a writing tool and communications device. Writing now on "the meaning of life" thoughts.

Are you still in Ireland or have you moved on?  I lectured four times in the past but only in London and still have not made it to Ireland to buy you that beer. Spending travel time now in China, making fourth trip there this fall.

Anyway, just thought I would say Hello! from Whidbey Island, WA.

Hope all is well.

Jerry

Dr. Gerald L. Kovacich

I have made a point of trying to answer each and every one of my 7,000 plus fan letters individually—a gesture that makes no commercial sense—and I feel particularly pleased when I learn I have helped with their writing in some way.

Simply put, I was helped in various ways when I was trying to learn to write—and now feel it is my turn to put something back into the pot. I doubt Jerry needed much help. He is the author of 15 books on information warfare and computer security—but I appreciate his kind thoughts.

So what has the eagle to do with all this? It’s a subtle reminder of my new book HOW EAGLE & CUCKOO SAVED THE WORLD: THE BEGINNING—and it looks good.

 

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 144

WHO ARE THESE GUYS? I’M SUDDENLY HEARING FROM ALL SORTS OF INTERESTING PEOPLE—AND WHY NOW?

EITHER WAY, IT IS VERY PLEASANT.

Shortly before my much loved grandmother, Vida Lentaigne died, I was inspired to write to her to say how much she meant to me.

I say “inspired” because I didn’t expect her to die soon. She hadn’t yet had the fall that led to her rapid decline, and she was only 78 and still active.

Nonetheless, I had the strongest possible premonition to write the best letter I could—so I wrote it and mailed it; and she received it, and understood it; and made it clear how much she appreciated what I was trying to say.

She said my letter was so wonderful she thought she was dreaming. But the letter was very real, and the sentiments it expressed were as loving as I knew how. I had always had a very special relationship with my grandmother, and dreaded her passing. I knew my world would never be the same—and it hasn’t been. Vida Lentaigne was an exceptional human being—and a genuinely good person.

I have made many mistakes in life, but sometimes I have done absolutely the right thing—and this was one of them.

Frankly, I doubt that my letter was that good—I was less practiced as a writer then, and still find it hard to express my feelings adequately—but it made her happy, and that was the whole point of the exercise. Since then, I have devoted more more attention to letters because I have found that they communicate in a unique way—let me stress this—and can truly make somebody’s day, even if bad things are going on all around them. How do I know? Because that is what people tell me—and that is what I feel when I receive a good letter. 

What is a good letter? It is many things—but, above all, it is from the heart. It is empathetic, thoughtful, honest, and it has content (it really does help if you have something to say). It also helps if it is well written—though that is secondary. Getting spelling, grammar and punctuation right is fundamental for a published work, but less vital for a private letter.

This week I received the nicest letter I have ever read in my life—and probably ever will. It knocked my letter to my grandmother into a cocked hat, and was packed full of fascinating content into the bargain because it was about a fellow writer’s life—something I could truly relate to. In fact, I feel like telling the writer that he really should not write to me again, because he will find it impossible to top this week’s achievement. I just hope it is not a sign I am about to keel over. I have stories to write as yet.

The author of the letter was my son, Christian. He is an award-winning playwright who has also had the distinction of having one of his works made into an excellent, and very touching, movie:

INSIDE I’M DANCING 2004
OctagonFeature film – Story By Christian O’Reilly
*Edinburgh Film Festival – Audience Award
*Irish Film & TV Awards – Best Script
*Irish Film & TV Awards – AIB People’s Choice Award for Best Film

The movie was also marketed under a different title—RORY O’SHEA IS HERE.

Why do producers do this stuff? I am including the poster for that as well. Either way, the story was written by my son, Christian. I am as pleased as a fellow writer can be (We authors are always supposed to be madly jealous of each other. Whereas it is true, that can be the initial feeling for a micro-second—thereafter it is frequently not true.

Indeed, I doubt I would ever have sold a book but for the generosity of fellow writers like Niall Fallon, Anthony Summers, and others. Authors rock in my opinion. Others who I would like to praise include Sam Llewellyn, Peter Cunningham and Jim Webb (the senator).

In addition, Christian writes for the BBC—an achievement in itself. He is very happily married to Ailbhe and is proudest of all of his son, Coilin (whose name should have accents but I don’t know how to do them in this program). They live in Galway, in the West of Ireland—not to far away from where my fictional protagonist, Hugo Fitzduane, lives (“supposed to live” just doesn’t sound right).

But I didn’t bring up this topic just to both praise and thank Christian—because the fact of his writing to me is scarcely a surprise (though the contents certainly were). Instead, I have been delighted, amused and pleased to hear from a whole bunch of other people who—mostly—I never knew existed. And most of this latest group have had some family connection.

This is great, though I wonder why they have all come at roughly the same time. Is telepathy at work? But, whatever be the reason, I am decidedly not complaining.

 

 

 

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 143

ONCE UPON A TIME, I HAD WHAT I THOUGHT WAS A GREAT IDEA—A DIFFERENT HOME EVERY YEAR OR TWO 

The idea of moving every year or two hovers somewhere between hopelessly impractical and insane to most people—though the U.S. military do it all the time. I guess that rather proves the point.

In fact I was once told by the Secretary of the Army—whom I was interviewing during my Pentagon assignment—that something like 10 percent of the force was in transit at any one time—and therefore unavailable to invade Iraq or do whatever the powers that be had in mind. I found that a mind-boggling figure, though perhaps not so surprising when you consider that the U.S. military maintain something like 1,000 bases throughout the world—and some extraordinary number of golf courses. All those foreign bases cost only $250 billion (or some such) and require only 200,000 plus troops to garrison them. It’s a positive steal.

But should the U.S. have a 1,000 foreign bases in the first place?

Why not if the locals and the U.S. taxpayers don’t mind (and the Chinese who lend us the money to fund all this—because we haven’t the money). Besides, it keeps the generals happy. And generals need to be kept happy because they have the guns.

You see each separate post or base has to have a commander—and that is a job that normally goes to a general. More bases means more jobs for generals, not to mention wanna-be generals—which means most senior officers. The lure of a star is like catnip to a cat. Fundamentally, it’s a form of unemployment relief which is packaged in such a way as to make it acceptable to Republicans. Works like a charm.

But I digress. What I was really working up to was to explain why I thought it would be a good idea for me—the writer. You see, I tend to be creatively stimulated by fresh surroundings so thought it would be a marvelous idea to move on after each book to yet another exotic location or other—get inspired afresh—and then write anew.

My ex was not keen (a common state). She wanted to buy a house and make some money out it (which she did) and then she wanted stability for the kids (she was less successful there).

Being a sweetheart of a man, I acquiesced—as most men do when faced with an intransigent woman—but I have always wondered what my writing life would have been like if I had moved every year or two, from place to place, and from country to country.

Barcelona today! Monte Carlo tomorrow! Sienna in a year or two! And then, perhaps, Buenos Aires! Or Algiers! A writer would need to be desperate not to be able to come up with a plot or two in Algeria. They tell me things happen there.

I guess I’ll never know—or will I?

 

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 141

CONCLUSION OF THE FRENCH FOREIGN LEGION (FOR NOW)

While in Corte, I made friends with a Sergeant-Chef who had been in the First Foreign Regiment of Parachutists—the unit that had tried to overthrow De Gaulle after he decided the time had come for the French to leave Algeria.

Since the highly mobile paras, using innovative tactics—particularly helicopter assaults—had been highly successful against the Algerian freedom fighters, they objected to this decision and mounted an abortive putsch.

After the effort failed—the largely conscript French Army in Algeria wanted none of it--the 1REP Legionnaires were marched away to be disbanded. As they marched, they sang: “Je ne regrette rien—I regret nothing.” From their perspective—the purely military one--they had won in Algeria and felt betrayed. In contrast, De Gaulle felt it was inevitable that Algeria would become independent—the tide of history was against colonialism—and he wanted to end the drain on the French economy.

My legionnaire friend, who was actually a Hungarian, immediately enlisted in 2REP where he was soon restored to his former rank. The Legion looks after its own. NCOs, by the way, have considerable authority within the Legion. In effect, they run it.

I think the item that cemented our friendship was the copy of THE CENTURIONS I had with me. Together with its sequel, it told the whole story—and was still officially banned within the Legion. The events had happened in 1961 and this was only three years later in 1964.

After leaving Corte, Bunny and I journeyed on to Calvi where the 2REP—now the only remaining Legion parachute regiment left—was based. There, I got considerable access to the unit despite not having gone through channels. It was, quite simply, fascinating—and I can recall few more dramatic sights than watching one of their parachute drops one evening against a backdrop of mountains. Corsica is a very beautiful island—and fragrant. Wild herbs are everywhere.

Unlike Corte, which is in the center of Corsica, Calvi is a coastal port with a fabulous five mile beach of golden sand just next to it—and adjacent to the 2REP camp. The port and town are overlooked by a formidable citadel. Apparently, when the Allies landed on Corsica, the citadel was occupied by the Germans.

According to one old timer I talked to, the Corsican resistance were too impatient to wait for the Allied troops to reach Calvi, and stormed the fort. Quite how they succeeded, I’ll never know, but they did. Or so goes the story. And if I may quote from the movie, JUDGE ROY BEAN, “If it’s not the way it was, it is the way it should have been.”

This illustration was made by Jean-Pol GRANDMONT

Calvi Beach boasted a Club Mediterranean in my day, so 2REP, who jumped into the bay, as well as into the valley, had topless bathing beauties to gaze at as they floated down.

The French do these things differently.

As best I can gather, 2REP is still based in Calvi at nearby Camp Raffalli. These days it has become a highly specialized rapid response force with expertise in all kinds of arcane areas from mountain warfare to jungle combat.

The entire Legion consists of 7,700 men in eleven regiments and one sub-unit. REP stands for Régiment étranger de parachutistes, as in 2e REP.