September 14 2014. ISIS and “boots on the ground.” Some context to the whole debate. Personally, I hold to the view that a genuinely holistic approach to combat based upon integrating ground and air operationally (not just my opinion, by the way) is long overdue.

“The Army might screw you and your girlfriend might dump you and the enemy might kill you, but the shared commitment to safeguard one another’s lives is un-negotiable and only deepens with time. The willingness to die for another person is a form of love that even religions fail to inspire, and the experience of it changes a person profoundly.”
Sebastian Junger, War

“There are two things a combat deployment offers which all of us strongly desire. The first, being purpose. Every morning we woke up and knew why we were there. It is immediate and unavoidable. Although, it is extreme and unpleasant, there is a comfort in that purpose. The second, is simplicity. We have one goal. There are relatively simple rules on how to accomplish it, and we understand that just about everything will go wrong. Pretty simple.”
Adam Fenner, Post-Deployment Wisdom For Those Expecting A Returning Service Member

There is as much folklore as science in the accounts of maneuver units that do exceptionally well in close combat. Empirical and anecdotal evidence gathered from combat studies of the Second World War, Korea, and Vietnam has shown conclusively that elite maneuver units, carefully selected and trained, not only perform better in combat but do so with many fewer casualties from all sources of combat incapacitation (for example, from disease and combat fatigue). Such units fight so effectively because they are composed of soldiers of exceptionally quality – better trained and better led as well as coalesced through long-term association that builds familiarity and mutual trust. The difference between carefully trained and led units and those of lesser quality is dramatic.”
Robert H. Scales Jr.

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BACKGROUND. What I’m about to say in this piece doesn’t merely reflect my opinion. It is based upon my own experience and observation—together with considerable research and practical field experiments carried out by some military friends of mine. What they found was that if a ground unit works very closely with air—with both constantly exchanging information—then the situational awareness of the battle-space is dramatically enhanced.

What is ‘situational awareness?’ It means—in layman’s terms—that you know what is going on. In a military sense, it means you know where your forces are in detail; you know where the enemies forces are in detail; and, ideally (you should be so lucky) you know the intentions of both sides. You also know the terrain and are familiar with any other factors that may be relevant—such as your supply situation, the weather, the potential for collateral damage and so on. There is a great deal to know in combat, and it changes fast. Nor matter what, you are likely to know less than you need. In combat, you act constantly on the basis of imperfect information. It is profoundly stressful. It wears away at good people—our people.

Ground maneuver supported constantly by air is, of course, far more than CAS (Close Air Support). CAS is primarily a matter of ground calling in air to destroy a target or targets (though there are occasions when air will act unilaterally if friendly positions are known with certainty). It is not quite destruction on demand because CAS—as currently implemented—is only intermittently available, and may take some time to respond after being called. How long is “some time?” Too long if you are under fire.

IGAM (Integrated Ground Air Maneuver)—which is what I am advocating—involves a much closer interdependent relationship. If implemented properly, after a while ground and air can virtually read each other’s minds. Also, current technology means that each can see what the other can see (within limits). The result is serious synergy.

Such combat synergy doesn’t eliminate the confusion that is endemic to combat—but it lessens it—it increases tactical options, and it decreases casualties. You can be bolder and maneuver faster with less risk. These are huge advantages.

WHY DO WE HAVE SEPARATE ARMED SERVICES? We tend to take the existence of our separate armed services—such as the Army, the Navy, the Marine Corps, the Air Force, and the Coast Guard—for granted, but it might be a great deal better if we didn’t. Where the Pentagon is concerned, the amount of effort which goes into inter-service rivalry vastly exceeds the energy we expend fighting our official enemies.

Yes, I know my definition of the services is not technically correct since the Marine Corps is part of the Navy, but it reflects the de facto situation.

THE MICC—MONEY IS THE FOCUS. The reason for that is simple. The military establishment, as currently structured, has ongoing access to truly prodigious riches—the spend on National Security (the DOD budget is only part) totals over a trillion dollars a year in all—so it is predictable, in an incentive based culture, that the primary focus of all concerned will be on how to divide up the spoils.

That glittering pot of gold is irresistible. It demands focus. It downright commands it. The incentives are stacked that way—as is the culture of the MICC (Military Industrial Congressional Complex). The MICC is greed driven, totally obsessed with the money flow (the term widely used)—and largely indifferent to the genuine National Security needs of the country.

You can see clear evidence of this even in wartime, when vast sums are committed to the supposed needs of future wars—whereas the immediate requirements of the current shooting war go un-met. Self -interest doesn’t give way to the public good just because there is a war on.

True, there tends to be much courage and selflessness displayed at the sharp end by the fighting troops—who deserve all the support they receive, and more—but as far as the MICC is concerned, war is both an irritation and a distraction from those big ticket projects that come in late, and over budget, after decades of ever rising costs (like the F-35)—and a profit opportunity (which they tend to seize with alacrity). Selflessness is not a characteristic of the MICC.

WAR WITHOUT END. A further factor is that this bureaucratic war is a war without end—whereas shooting wars tend to be of limited duration (though that may change). Accordingly, the permanent tends to receive more attention than the temporary.

ARMY FIEFDOMS. This segmentation extends into the services themselves. The Army, for instance, is divided by branches such as Armor, Aviation, Infantry, and so on. Airborne is a qualification—not a branch (though it acts like a branch). Such branches tend to end up as fiefdoms—each with a baron (general) in charge.

IS COMBAT EFFECTIVENESS HINDERED? The issue which has long preoccupied me is whether segmentation—whether by service or by branch—inhibits combat effectiveness. I understand both the practical and emotional reasons for such divisions (belonging to a particular branch enhances your sense of loyalty and self-esteem, for instance—and specialization makes things easier to organize—but I have come to the conclusion that it does inhibit combat effectiveness (and seriously at that).

A unit is most effective in combat if all its resources are combined in one orchestrated effort (each element contributing as, and when, required). That sounds like no more than common sense, but it’s much more difficult to achieve than you might think. For instance, I witnessed one attack at Fort Irwin in the Mojave Desert where the commander just plain forget about his artillery—so didn’t use it. True story.

But, it’s much more complicated than that. Different units have a tendency to move at different speeds for a host of reasons—from command style to type of vehicle to terrain. They see the battle-space from different perspectives. Visibility is frequently inadequate. Different types of firepower can interfere with each other (if you use your artillery and your attack helicopters at the same time—without careful coordination—you make find them—the projectiles in the case of the artillery—occupying the same piece of sky). And then you have an enemy with his own agenda who is quite determined to destroy yours (and you). And you haven’t slept for god knows how long!

Training doesn’t eliminate confusion. Combat defines confusion. What it does do is improve the ability of all concerned to cope with it. For obvious reasons, training is most effective when all your combat resources train together. This happens much less often than you might think—particularly where different services are involved. One reason is cost—another reason is laziness or inertia—but mindset is no small factor. If there isn’t a full understanding of the advantages of integrating ground and air, why would anyone want to train that way? And, unbelievably, so far, there isn’t. The Army is conservative. People stay—and train—in their lanes. 

ARMY VERSUS AIR FORCE. NEGLECT OF CAS. The great inter-service problem today is the split between the Army and the Air Force. The Air Force used to be part of the Army, but became a separate service in 1947. The separation was bitter to a degree that is hard to understand. In fact, Lieutenant General Quesada was called a traitor by Air Force colleagues for closely cooperating with the Army after D-Day towards the end of WW II—and, since that time, the Air Force has had a tendency to neglect CAS (Close Air Support). Instead it has focused on air supremacy, interdiction, strategic bombing, and space—together with logistics.

By and large, it has done an excellent job in these areas (though you can debate its procurement policies—and the F-35 in particular) but its handling of  CAS has been mediocre and grudging, at best. Fundamentally—and this seem to be built into the Air Force culture—it doesn’t seem to want the CAS mission. In fact, a good example of this is its current determination to retire the A-10, a purpose-built CAS aircraft of high survivability and proven effectiveness. But the Air Force also came in for strong criticism for not doing enough to support the Army in Afghanistan—and from the Secretary of Defense at that.

The Army has reacted to the Air Force’s neglect of CAS by developing Army Aviation—which is primarily based upon helicopters (though it has a fixed wing component as well). It formally became a branch in 1983.

The Army’s Apache AH-64 Longbow helicopters are ferociously effective, but are more vulnerable to ground fire (as was shown in 2003 near Karbala, Iraq, where some 30 aircraft were hit—out of close to 40—and one brought down) than the Air Force’s fixed wing aircraft. This is because the Apache flies much lower and slower than the Air Force’s machines. On the other hand, Apache crews—equipped with excellent day/night sensor and vision equipment—see more, and are much more closely informed about the detail of the ground combat. Unfortunately, their fuel consumption is such that their loiter time in the battle-space is limited—and their relatively low speed can mean they take longer than is desirable to get to where the ground force needs support.

Why doesn’t the Apache utilize air-to air-refueling? It’s tricky with a helicopter because of the rotor, but it is possible. I suspect it’s because the Army has no aerial tankers of its own.

It also much be said that although much has been written about the vulnerability of the attack helicopter, in practice they have proven to be much more survivable in combat than has been projected—despite the fairly widespread availability of MANPADS (Man Portable Air Defense systems). This survivability has a great deal to do with the tactics used as well as the defensive tools employed. It tends to demand particularly well-trained crews—and it speaks well of them.

The neglect of the CAS mission by the Air Force has always been a serious issue. However, recently it has become an even greater cause for concern for these reasons:

• PRECISION GUIDED MUNITIONS. The development of PGMs (Precision Guided Munitions such as JDAM bombs) now means that the Air Force can bomb with unprecedented accuracy. A consequence of that—assuming you have air supremacy and enough aircraft—is that an associated ground force can be virtually unbeatable and, therefore, can be smaller than has been traditional.
• SURVEILLANCE. Surveillance technology has improved quite dramatically. This means that aircraft can now study the battlespace effectively from a relatively safe height. They can’t see stuff that has been concealed—but they can normally identify what they can see with considerable accuracy.
• DRONES. Armed drones have added a whole new air capability.

BOTTOM LINE. The bottom line here is absolutely clear. Ground and air capabilities (though not necessarily all air capabilities) need to be integrated within a unified command structure. It no longer makes sense for a ground unit to operate, within a hostile environment, without air cover at all times. In effect, that means that ground and air should train together—which in turn really means they should belong to the same unit.

It’s worth while thinking through the implications of integrating ground and air. It’s a combination that very few military powers would be able to withstand.

But why have ground forces at all?

Combat experience to date shows that although air power can do a great deal, a creative enemy can still conceal considerable strength on the ground—without being detected—regardless of the most sophisticated sensors and surveillance equipment.

The techniques used to avoid detection are both high tech and low tech, but the end result is that if you want to defeat an enemy, you tend to need ground troops as well. They can search in the kind of hands-on way required. This is particularly the case in urban areas—where great care has to be taken to avoid collateral damage. In short, there are decided limits to what you can do from the air. We can severely restrict mobility—and do more than ever before—but it is still not enough to be reliably decisive. A weak enemy will give in. A committed enemy will fight on.

When it comes to holding ground—which is what you tend to want to do after you have seized it—then ground troops are needed for that aspect as well. Experience has shown that even where you make ground into a free-fire zone, you cannot hold—and thus utilize—terrain from the air.

What determines ‘holding ground?’ Physical possession. Denying its use to an enemy. Being able to utilize it to one’s own advantage. Sometimes it is very far from clear. Being physically present on land you cannot utilize is a debatable advantage—and common

Despite waste and greed—arguably endemic to the human condition—there is no doubt that the U.S. has evolved an extraordinarily powerful military machine—by far and away the most powerful in the world. However, its track record in the sort of messy, asymetric wars we seem to specialize in, is decidedly mixed. We have no problem dealing with conventional forces, but considerable difficulties dealing with guerillas.

Such irregular forces don’t wear uniforms so are hard to distinguish from the regular population. They don’t adhere to the rules of war—such as they are—and yet tend to have access to portable but powerful weaponry. Perhaps most serious of all, they seem to be able to either make, or otherwise lay their hands on, powerful explosives. Given our tendency to be road bound and predictable—and be dependent on long logistic tails—we are exceedingly vulnerable to such people unless, and until, we change the way we operate.

It is my belief that if we integrated ground and air as discussed we could both cut our costs and be more effective militarily. If the former is a naïve assumption given that the MICC is so strong—and integrated into the very fabric of National Security—then perhaps we will have to settle for increased military effectiveness.

That would be no small thing in itself.

Where consistent integrated ground/air is concerned, ideally you need a survivable aircraft armed with a gun and PGMs, which has a long loiter time, is equipped for surveillance, and is relatively inexpensive to deploy. The F-35, with which the Air Force proposes to replace the A-10 with, does not meet those criteria. The A-1o isn’t perfect either—there is some room for improvement here—but it would still be the superior choice. Soldiers love it.

TELLING ISIS NO GROUND TROOPS! Regarding President Obama’s statement that he won’t employ U.S. ground forces to fight ISIS directly, I regard that as a serious error of judgment.

• You should never tell an enemy what you are going to do—or not to do. Being unpredictable is fundamental.
• I don’t think he understands what could be achieved with ground/air integration—and I’m not sure most generals do either.

UNDERLYING FACTORS. 

• The Fog of War is a reality. That means that you need to be prepared to deal with all contingencies which requires that you should never exclude any particular lawful capability—because you may need it in a hurry (and probably will).
• The U.S. approach to war at present is depressingly predictable. We need to be prepared to do the absolutely unexpected at speed—such as landing a force in Syria to take out both ISIS and Assad. I’m not seriously proposing this—though it has a decided appeal—but, in this case, it is an example.
• We are not devoting nearly enough thought to achieving psychological dominance—to obtain the kind of leverage you get from conquering an enemy through speed and surprise. For a recent example of that, you need to look no further than ISIS’s recent successes in Iraq. These victories have given them an awesome reputation out of all proportion to their actual strength—and have significantly increased their image so recruits are flocking to them. Success breeds success. Meanwhile, once again we are being slow, methodical. and predictable. We have the resources to be vastly more creative—and to shake our enemies to the very core. Either we lack the imagination—or we have chosen not to.

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Writers need media. In fact, all of us do for one reason or another. Do we have the media we need—or the media we deserve? And why do we need the media at all?

"The leading student of business propaganda, Australian social scientist Alex Carey, argues persuasively that “the 20th century has been characterized by three developments of great political importance: the growth of democracy, the growth of corporate power, and the growth of corporate propaganda as a means of protecting corporate power against democracy."

Noam Chomsky, World Orders: Old and New

 

The current state of the news media is partially to blame for the publics general lack of information vital for responsible citizenship in a democracy. The news media has become an aspect of show business, offering merely infotainment. It has evolved into an entity that tends to function as a public relations agency for wealthy and powerful multinational corporations, members of Congress, the current Presidential Administration including the administrations that preceded it. The news media is being utilized as a political tool of suppression and propaganda by those in power, and propaganda is psychological in nature. Full of half-truths and utter misinformation, its an arrogant and very commercial strategy that is implemented because it appeals to emotions, fear being the main one relentless talk of national security, personal and community safety, can trigger childhood insecurities and indoctrinated views of authority.

Teresa Stover

Quite frankly, having an uninformed populace works extremely well, particularly when you have a media that doesn't understand its responsibility and feels more like it's an arm of a political party. They can really take advantage of an uninformed populace.

Benjamin Carson

All media exist to invest our lives with artificial perceptions and arbitrary values.

Marshall McLuhan

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The state of the media in the U.S. concerns me a great deal—both for selfish reasons (I’m a creative writer whose ideas largely stem from information) and because of a more general concern about the health—or lack of it—of American democracy. In fact, I do not believe that the U.S. is a democracy any more. It has the trappings—like elections (which are covered as if they are horse races)—but functionally it is a plutocracy. It is run by the ultra-rich for their own benefit. The views of the bulk of the U.S. population have scant influence. This view is not just my opinion. It is supported by much formal research.

I fail to see how democracy can thrive without healthy media—and the current state of U.S. media is very far from healthy.

• The media, by and large, are owned by the ultra rich—and their policies are based upon their interests. That means the news is heavily tailored to reflect a particular point of view—rather than to be balanced and comprehensive. The effect is to serve the same objectives as propaganda—to distort reality in the interests of some particular individual, group, or organization.
• Whole areas are covered inadequately, or virtually not at all. The neglect of news about labor is one example. The minimal coverage of foreign news is another. The greatest failure lies in the consistent unwillingness of the media to compare life in the U.S. to that of other countries so that we may learn and improve. In a globalized world, this neglect is unforgivable.
• News management has now become extremely sophisticated. In essence, the powers that be now know how to manage the news.
• The U.S. public hold journalists in low regard but still don’t seem to be overly concerned about the state of the media—perhaps because they don’t fully understand it.  Why would they given that the mainstream is virtually their only source of information. Ironically, there is some good media out their—but it tends to be read by a minority.
• Blogs are widely touted as compensating for the inadequacies of U.S. media. I debate this. Most of us lack the resources to perform the investigative role that the best journalists have traditionally carried out. However, there is an additional problem. Very few blogs reach the kind of mass audience that is needed to keep a public informed and to influence events.
• One of the most disturbing trends has involved stripping out resources from the media—nominally to optimize profits, but such actions have also had the effect of making the media unable to do their jobs properly even if they wanted to—and were allowed to. The actions involved include: reducing staff—journalists, editors, researchers, fact checkers—across the board; reducing or eliminating budgets for such things as investigative journalism; and closing down foreign bureaus.

Here is an extract from www.bookmarketingbuzzblog.blogspot.com which is actually run by Brian Feinblum. himself a publicist. It makes for depressing reading.

According to Pew Research Center, over 202,000 PR practitioners are circulating.  But there are only 43,600 journalists.  That means publicists outnumber journalists by almost a 5 to 1 ratio.  And they out-earn them.  For every buck made by a promoter, journalists pocket $.65.  Overworked, understaffed, and underpaid – with decreased job security – today’s journalist struggles to make a living, do a decent job, and keep up with the competition while being barraged by a nation of professional influencers.

Even though I’m a promoter and marketer, I’m also a citizen of the US and I don’t want to see the news media shrink in its size, influence, or ability to do its job.  But I recognize that circumstances could now corrupt the institution of the news and freedom of the press.

Journalists are short on time to vet information provided by outside sources.  As editorial staffs shrink, there is a decreased ability for the news media to counter press release claims and interrogate those who claim to have relevant knowledge for the story.  All too often, journalists are relaying assertions but not really giving them context or perspective.  Spin doctors, partisan voices and special interests overwhelm those who must judge facts and explore theories.

Too many stories, according to some studies, have been found to be incorrect, biased, or based on only one source.  Further, the media at times fails to disclose conflicts of interest regarding sources.  The independence of the media no longer depends on remaining free from government controls but from the PR industry representing corporations, celebrities, politicians, groups, authors, and so many others.

However, that said, there are more checks and balances on the media – and on those the media reports on.  Citizen journalists online potentially could serve as a means to keep things in line.  But many bloggers and websites lack resources, training, or even the interest in being a watchdog.

For now, publicists are running the newsroom, but that will change once the newsroom expands online and new institutions are formed to ensure the media is truly free.  Until then, be aware of everything you read, see, hear, or download.

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September 13 2014.I love movies—but Hollywood not so much. In praise of foreign movies, and intelligent movies in particular. And, by the way, I like many Hollywood movies—even when they are not made in Hollywood. I’m far from sure I like the culture.

A film is never really good unless the camera is an eye in the head of a poet.

Orson Welles

If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story.

Orson Welles

A story should have a beginning, a middle and an end, but not necessarily in that order.

Jean-Luc Godard

You know what your problem is, it's that you haven't seen enough movies - all of life's riddles are answered in the movies.

Steve Martin

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I saw the Danish movie, A HIJACKING, the other day—and was deeply impressed. Based upon the title and the subject matter, one might expect it to be an action movie ending in a blaze of gunfire. Actually, it is really an all too believable—and involving—study of stress.

The story concerns the hijacking of a Danish ship by Somali pirates—and you follow events from the point of view of a member of the crew, the ship’s cook, and the CEO of the company that owns the ship.

All in all, it’s a deeply distressing but fascinating story—and the suspense never lets up. It conveys the toll that stress takes on the human condition with unremitting accuracy—and is all too believable. If you want light entertainment, this isn’t for you. This is the kind of movie that is more likely to give you P.T.S.D.

The movie was made for $2.8 million—a virtual rounding error by Hollywood standards.

I love movies. I grew up in a television-free household so they had an extra significance as far as I was concerned—and, when I was a young child, they were certainly much more enjoyable than real life.

Given my decidedly difficult and unhappy upbringing, that wasn’t hard. I was abused physically, and in other ways, when I was at home—by my mother—and bullied physically, and in other ways, when at boarding school (where she sent me at the age of 5 after I refused to kiss her—my way of fighting back).  Pain apart, it grew tedious. It’s extremely boring to be abused and bullied.

Life grew somewhat easier after I reached the age of eleven. I grew, and learned to fight with some expertise, so I could take care of myself physically, I started to excel academically, I had left the Irish boarding school I loathed for one in England—and when I was on vacation, I was old enough to look after myself. And then I discovered girls.

Before long I discovered you could combine a movie with a girl (or even a girl with a movie). Life started to look up. And then girls became women. Better again. Sexually experienced women were best of all. I fell in love with one—twice my age—and she with me. I move in with her in the face of total social disapproval. This was Catholic Ireland in 1964/5. It was a most pleasurable educational experience.

Real life had its good points.

Movies, and then books, were my escape during my earlier years of misery—and then became integral to my life. I consumed both to excess—and try and keep up the good work—and learned a great deal from them. Steve Martin is right. All of life’s riddles are answered in the movies. And they are also answered in books.

It’s strange the way life itself provides so few answers. Mostly, real life seems to be about questions—starting with why we exist at all.

I haven’t a clue. In my satirical book, HOW EAGLE & CUCKOO SAVE AMERICA, I opine that the Chief (God, I suppose) created the world primarily so he could produce wine. Of course, he didn’t really need the world since God can do anything, but he craved the uncertainty of climate and willed himself not to know the outcome (even though he really did).

The bottom line is that I think if there is a God, we were were created for entertainment. I can think of no other rational reason (though I see scant evidence that God is rational).

That means we are the movie. And each one of us is a star.

What a creepy thought. I value my privacy.

I first became turned on to foreign language movies when I was at university. There, I belonged to the Film Society so saw a foreign language movie about once a week.

What I liked about them—some more than others—is that, generally speaking:

• They were less formulaic than Hollywood movies.
• They offered more insight into the human condition.
• They offered a window into other cultures.
• They were often more creatively directed.
• They were often better written.

They were not necessarily more entertaining—in a purely escapist sense—but they were more intelligent, more interesting.

I have no problem with sub-titles.

Personally, I would like to see a film industry that was genuinely international—where foreign language movies were shown routinely. I think it would do a great deal to foster international understanding. If you watch enough foreign movies, you soon realize that although there are profound cultural contrasts, in fundamental ways, we are not so different at all.

Though I have enjoyed many a Hollywood movie, I don’t think the dominance of the movie business by U.S. corporations for so long has done the world any favors—but then I am skeptical of excessive corporate power and monopolies generally (regardless of nationality). If the movie industry was dominated by the Serbians, I wouldn’t feel any better about it—and I have nothing against Serbs.

Will I say any more about  Hollywood culture?

No, I don’t think I will—except to comment that the phrase is an oxymoron.

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September 12 2014. You know that since I write every day, you would think I would get used to writing. I don’t. I still regard the process with wonder—and each piece as a miracle. I have no idea how I do what I do. I do know that the secret of writing is a burning desire to write followed by blood, sweat, tears, and time. And sex helps. Wine doesn’t hurt. And you need at least one friend who believes in you. After you first become a writer—as you struggle and seem to produce nothing—over time, virtually everybody will lose faith in you (including, quite possibly, your nearest and dearest). You, yourself, don’t have that option. Though you will be tempted to quit, you must endure regardless.

“Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.”
George Orwell

“Write while the heat is in you. … The writer who postpones the recording of his thoughts uses an iron which has cooled to burn a hole with.”
Henry David Thoreau

“We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.”
Ernest Hemingway

“Every secret of a writer’s soul, every experience of his life, every quality of his mind, is written large in his works.”
—Virginia Woolf

“The greatest part of a writer’s time is spent in reading, in order to write; a man will turn over half a library to make one book.”
Samuel Johnson

“Writers are always selling somebody out.”
Joan Didion

“Keep a small can of WD-40 on your desk—away from any open flames—to remind yourself that if you don’t write daily, you will get rusty.”
George Singleton

I am an absolute admirer of George Orwell—both as a writer and as a man. Though he is normally most associated with 1984, his memoir of fighting Fascism in Spain, HOMAGE TO CATALONIA remains one of my favorite books. Nonetheless, I don’t agree with him that: “Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness.”

I love the actual process of writing—perhaps because it is such a struggle. But I agree with him that it is an exhausting business—and that “One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.”

All true. Thank God for such demons.

V.

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Experienced professionals normally radiate confidence. Just as well. I’m not sure one would feel too good if one’s pilot paced up and down before a flight—microphone in hand, his faced creased with angst—muttering: “Can I fly this thing? I think so—but I’m not sure. Supposing I forget what to do while taking off? What then? We’ll all be killed. And how does flying work anyway? Why do we we go up? What if the engines cut out? This thing glides like a stone.”

Bring on the robots.

I don’t pace up and down before I write—unless for exercise—and I’m not consumed with self-doubt (where writing is concerned) but I am saying no more than the truth when I declare that I don’t know how I do what I do.

Well, I know how I plot a story—and I know how I structure a chapter. Such things come from technique. But I don’t understand how I actually write. Sometimes I search for a word—but normally I don’t. The things just appear and—so to speak—self assemble.

How does that all work? It’s a mystery.

I had a certain facility with words when I was at school—and won numerous prizes. All were books. I lent most of them to my sister, Desiree, for some reason—who lost them.

Dizzy was like that. Trained as a ballet dancer. Very beautiful and very ditsy. I spent a year trying to her get off drugs. Succeeded. She went to visit my mother in Spain—and went right back on them. She married a Dutch criminal who I rather liked. Not sure about her taste in men overall, but she was a lovely person. Tragically, she died from cancer a few years ago—way too young.

I miss those books. They represented that tuning point in my life  when I transitioned from being a much bullied victim to having success after success. It was very strange. I even grew tall though was unaware of it for quite a time. When you have been the smallest boy in school for years (I was over three years younger than my peers initially) you tend to think you still are.

I lost that facility with words when I was in business—and virtually couldn’t write at all when I decided to give up my business career and become a writer. To make matters worse, I couldn’t type. I had a manual typewriter—which I hated—but it was a necessary prop.

So how did I fill my day? I spent a great deal of time lying in the bath thinking—I’m very fond of hot baths (with or without company)—and reading. I like reading in the bath. It combines two exceptional pleasures. Then I normally went walking for a couple of hours—maybe longer. I would then dawdle over lunch—more reading—and eventually climb the stairs to my study. There I would stare guiltily at my typewriter —before starting to read.

I had no problem with the evenings. They were normally devoted to the opposite sex. I was in love for part of that period—and in lust for the balance. Let me re-phrase: I was in lust the whole time, but I slept with the woman I loved for only part. She left me to marry someone sensible. She made a correct decision. A writer-in-waiting is no person to hook up with. Besides, I was moody in those days (much less so now). I love her still—though I have loved other women. She was, and remains, a wonderful woman.

So, in effect, I started my writing career by being unable to write. Thinking, walking (which also meant thinking), reading, and sex constituted my training. There are worse ways of learning one’s craft. Virtually no actual writing was involved—and I didn’t even read books about writing in those days. Instead, I read a great deal of fiction, a considerable amount of military history, and a range of non-fiction books covering everything from the economy to the environment to biographies. During that period, I was reading at least three books a week—excellent preparation for writing, as it happens.

I didn’t even keep a journal —and I wrote very few letters. I was a writer who didn’t write. It wasn’t even a matter of writer’s block. You can’t be blocked when you haven’t even started.

In fact, I had started, but didn’t know it at the time. Writing starts with preparing the mind. It helps greatly to have the time to think. A conventional working life is not kind in that regard. Thinking takes time—a great deal of otherwise empty time. Walking promotes thinking. Eventually, pondering a matter leads to conclusions—which somehow seem to form themselves into words. You start writing in your mind… You think you forget most of what you write but your subconscious stores it away. Later, you draw upon all this material.

Is that really how it works? No. I’m just theorizing. What I can tell you is that what seems like idle time spent walking and thinking is time well spent.

None of this might have mattered too much if it had only gone on for a few months, or even a year or two. In reality, it went on for years—with my sallying forth every now and then to carry out a consulting assignment. The work paid well. I didn’t even hate it. It’s hard to hate something you excel at. I just would have preferred to have been doing something else.

I’m actually a very good consultant. I think strategically, I’m intellectually curious, a demon researcher, observant, empathetic, intelligent, analytical, persistent, get on with people, creative, and I write well. I’m also very good at seeing matters from a customer’s point of view—and formally trained in marketing. However, I have one serious weakness. I am not political and tend to tell the truth rather than say what is expedient. Since consultancy is heavily political—one is normally brought in by someone with an agenda—such candor is a disadvantage. Still, I never found an issue I couldn’t resolve—and I tackled some fairly major assignments. In fact, in one case one of my reports not only was the lead story in one of Ireland’s Sunday papers, but got a government department closed down. I have always been particularly proud of that. How many people have bureaucratic scalps hanging from their belts? Actually, I doubt anyone lost their job. The department was closed, but I suspect the staff were just moved to another department.

Throughout this time, I never thought of myself as a consultant. I thought of myself as a writer who did consulting. If I had been interested in material rewards, I would have stayed a consultant and forgotten about writing—but it was my obsession to become a writer. Nothing else interested me. I had no serious material ambitions. I wasn’t remotely concerned with fame and fortune. I just wanted to write—to be able to convert thought into the entertaining written word.

I had plenty of thoughts. The process of converting them was a mystery to me. Being considered a good writer at school and university didn’t cut it. Now I was trying to play in the big leagues and I didn’t even know where to begin. Or so I thought. In fact, I started with my main protagonist, Hugo Fitzduane, and got to know him, his background, and his lifestyle, pretty well before I stumbled across a story that fitted. Though I didn’t know it at the time, starting a book with a character was quite a neat move. All the best stories are character driven.

Hugo was normally in my thoughts when I went walking. He is a fiction—but he was as real to me, when I was thinking about him, as if he was a friend. He still is.

Then came my discovery of a hanging during one of my morning walks—pretty much as described in GAMES OF THE HANGMAN. It was a pivotal event. Suddenly, I had the basis of a story—the beginning anyway. The ending came to me fairly quickly. The details took much longer. A few months in Switzerland helped a great deal. I came up with my villain’s Cuban background in Athens, Greece. Travel not only broadens the mind. It helps with plotting.

Structuring the book apart, it was consulting that got me back into actual words-onto-paper writing mode. Every assignment required a report and, as time went on, I found I got better and better at writing them. They were also difficult—money, politics, careers, ego, and jobs were always at stake—so gave my brain a good workout. Mine were long but comprehensive. I found I was comfortable with length. Generally speaking, my reports were conversational in style. I loathed business English and found my clients did too. They liked the way I wrote. When I write, I’m blessed with a very clear mind. Prior to that, confusion rules—but I keep that aspect to myself.

Strangely enough, a confused mind is supposed to be helpful creatively. It means ideas that one would never connect—if  thinking calmly, logically, and rationally—bump into each other, and counter-intuitive connections are made.  In short, an original cast of mind has its roots in chaos.

Do I really believe that? This is where I wish I knew more about cognition (the subject I intend to study when reincarnated). But, essentially I do—though I’m not sure that terms like “a confused mind” and “chaos” are correct. I think having “an open mind” may have more to do with it. In short, whereas an expert might strip away the apparently irrelevant, and zero in on the issue in question and come up with the generally accepted answer, the truly creative person will consider a much wider spread of data—even if it seems irrelevant—and then come up with a counter-intuitive answer (which he then has to justify). 

It’s not easy being creative. Non-creative people often have no idea what the creative type is talking about—or they initially reject out-of-the-box thinking. Then they accept it as being blatantly obvious, so no big deal—or claim it as their own idea.

Once I got into the habit of writing again, I really never looked back.  Then came computers—the start of a long love/hate relationship. Out with my hated Olympus typewriter. In with a machine which made the end result look as if I knew how to type. If computers—troublesome things though they were and are—hadn’t been invented, I’m not sure I would ever have made it as a writer.

In essence, I have learned to write by writing—and in the process seem to have drastically re-wired my mind. I think differently when I write. I can do things which seemed impossible when I started (largely because then they were). I now evaluate everything as to its potential application to my writing work—and I do mean everything.

There is no such thing as a secret to a writer.  Our credo is clear: It’s all material. We may disguise a statement, an incident, and its source, in a myriad of ways—and I always do—but I will still make use of everything I know (and a great deal that I feel).

The thing which impresses me most about my writing career has not been such successes as I have had (though they are much appreciated)nor my many thousands of fan e-mails (which are particularly near and dear to my heart) but the fact that I have been able to take the long view and stick to writing regardless of the odds. By any conventional standards I should have given up on writing before I even started—and I have had enough setbacks since to justify quitting. There are many easier ways of making a living.

To be frank, I am not brave, and I do falter—and sometimes I freeze—but, regardless of the pressures, I seem to be incapable of quitting.

But that is just stubbornness. No, it’s not. It’s a combination of an absolute commitment to writing, together with a belief in my own talent. There is a great deal that I can’t do in this world, or where my handling would rightly be regarded as mediocre, but, these days, I know I can write—and better than most at that.

Does that mean I think I’m a great writer? I make no such claim—nor do I think in such a manner. I’m just vastly relieved and happy that I can finally, and in good conscience, call myself a writer. My judge, in this context, is my inner voice. 

That interregnum (as I tend to think of it) during which I thought of myself as a writer, but didn’t actually write (except consultancy reports) lasted over a decade.

I then spent five years writing my first book. Since then, I have written a further nine—over 22 years (though I have done other things as well—such as spend longer than I should have on military related work—and then there was a space project…).

No, I’m not making this up. I am easily seduced by adventurous projects (and not all are women).

A book every 2.5 years isn’t particularly impressive, but I’m a believer that a book takes as long as it takes. As it happens, I’ve got faster recently, and look like hitting a book a year plus something smaller (novella, short stories, essays) while continuing to blog. I hope to write 20 books in all before I die—and to have completed the last one before keeling over. It would be tremendously frustrating to check out leaving a story unfinished—downright careless, in fact.

If nothing else, I seem to have faith and stamina. Sanity? One wonders at times.

Has it all been worth it?

Writing is better than I can describe, better than anything I can dream, and beyond value as far as I am concerned. It has been my salvation. I know, beyond any doubt, that it is my purpose in life.

It is also Paradise—with 72 sexually experienced women thrown in (Quite why Islam stipulates virgins escapes me). If virgins are the only option—what the hell!—I will endure.

And there you have it.

72 virgins! Oy vey!

But I still don’t know how I do what I do—and I am far from sure I need to. Doing it is its own reward. No, I don’t mean fucking (I think). I mean writing.

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September 11 2014. Lord of the Engines--the remarkable Duke Engines compact, lightweight, valve-less axial engine—and its implications

Exploration is the engine that drives innovation. Innovation drives economic growth. So let's all go exploring.

Edith Widder

The automobile engine will come, and then I will consider my life's work complete.

Rudolf Diesel

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I tend to associate New Zealand with sheep—but clearly I am selling that country short (not that I have anything against sheep). But, I think it is fair to say that one doesn’t automatically associate New Zealand with advanced technology.

Excellence in rugby? Yes. Ferocious Maori war dances (their rugby team, the All Blacks, starts each game with one—a Haka—to intimidate the opposing team)?  Absolutely. Extraordinary terrain (as seen in THE LORD OF THE RINGS)? Certainly. But cutting edge engineering innovation? I don’t think so.

That may change. Duke Engines, based in Auckland, have taken the internal combustion engine and re-thought it in the most fundamental way. Best to go to Duke Engines website at www.dukeengines.com to see how the engine works. Most new engines are simply more sophisticated and efficient versions of the status quo. The Duke is a radically new approach to engine design—and it is hard not to be impressed by the sheer originality of the design. It’s awesome.

The result yields the following.

• THERMODYNAMIC EFFICIENCY.  The following is a brief extract from a Gizmag piece. 

Duke Engines' 3-liter, five cylinder test mule is already making a healthy 215 horsepower and 250 lb-ft of torque at 4,500rpm – slightly outperforming two conventional 3 liter reference engines that weigh nearly 20 percent more and are nearly three times as big for shipping purposes. With an innovative valve-less ported design, the Duke engine appears to be on track to deliver superior performance, higher compression and increased efficiency in an extremely compact and lightweight package with far fewer moving parts than conventional engines. The Duke engine is an axial design, meaning that its five cylinders encircle the drive shaft and run parallel with it. The pistons drive a star-shaped reciprocator, which nutates around the drive shaft, kind of like a spinning coin coming to rest on a table.

• FUEL FLEXIBILITY.  The Duke will run on any fuel that ignites with a spark plug.
• MINIMAL VIBRATION. There is a direct relationship between vibration, engine reliability, and passenger comfort. Vibration is destructive and fatiguing. The Duke is nearly vibration free.
• SIMPLICITY.  Uses significantly fewer parts. Less costly to manufacture. Easier to maintain. More reliable.
• LIGHTER. Roughly a 20 percent weight saving. That, in itself, yields improved fuel economy.
• MORE COMPACT.  The Duke is only about a third of the size of a conventional internal combustion engine.

Automobile manufacturers have invested so much in proprietary engine technologies that it is difficult for an outsider to penetrate that particular marketplace—no matter how innovative. Still, the advantages of the Duke seem overwhelming. It seems to me they are particularly compelling for:

• AVIATION.
• GENERATORS.
• RANGE EXTENSION.

A helicopter is sometimes described as “a flying machine that spends its time trying to vibrate itself to pieces.” There is some truth in that. Vibration is enormously significant where rotary aircraft are concerned—as are space and weight. Apart from passenger fatigue, one consequence is that helicopters are maintenance heavy. They have to be. It’s not good if your engine fails and you are in an aircraft without wings. Its even worse if the Jesus Nut vibrates off. Parts get fatigued as well and have to be replaced on a scheduled preventative basis. Think maintenance hours per flying hour. Expensive.

Personally, I think it is about time we moved towards hybrid-electric use in aviation. Here the Duke would be ideal as the compact, lighter, lower maintenance, low vibration generator.

Where the military are concerned, I see endless applications. Aircraft apart, the Duke would be particularly useful in armored vehicles. Here, the whole idea is have as much space under armor as possible while keeping the overall vehicle as light and compact as you can.

‘Light’ is a relative term where armored vehicles are concerned. They are all heavy. They get even heavier over time because, as anti-armor weaponry improves, extra armor tends to be added. A combat loaded M-113 weighs about 14 tons—substantially more if up-armored. An M1A2 Abrams is about 68 tons. There is no standard weight for up-armoring. It depends what, and how much, you use. Think three to 10 tons as a rough guide..

Anyway, you would be surprised by how heavy and bulky the engines of most armored vehicles are—which means they take up a ridiculous amount of that valuable protected space. A Duke engine powered hybrid electric alternative would increase the space under armor dramatically—while having all kinds of other advantages.

TRADITIONAL M-113 ENGINE – 275 HP - HEAVY, BULKY, NOISY, & VIBRATES. A DUKE HYBRID-ELECTRIC COMBINATION WOULD RESOLVE THESE ISSUES

(ENGINE APART, THE M-113 IS A GREAT VEHICLE & COULD BE EXTENSIVELY UPGRADED AT REASONABALE COST—BUT IT’S MORE FUN TO BUY NEW STUFF)

By the way, you need more space under armor these days not just because soldiers are becoming bulkier (they are) but to accommodate all the electro-optical gear that is now being employed.

The Duke engine is a development worth keeping an eye on. Is it scalable? I see no reason why not.

THE BEST IS YET TO COME. A point to note is that, although far advanced, the Duke is still in development and still being tweaked and refined. Based upon the findings so far, and the normal pattern of such developments, that suggests that there will be further performance improvements—particularly in terms of fuel economy. At present it is made from conventional materials, but it is clear its weight could be further reduced by using lighter alloys.

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September 10 2014. What is a short story anyway—and should I write some? The trouble is I’m not sure I can. They are damnably difficult. Writing’ short’ is way harder than ‘writing long. But what a challenge!’

Women want love to be a novel, men a short story.

Daphne du Maurier

Short stories consume you faster. They're connected to brevity. With the short story, you are up against mortality. I know how tough they are as a form, but they're also a total joy.

Ali Smith

You can write a short story in two hours. Two hours a day, you have a novel in a year.

Ray Bradbury

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When I look back on it, I’m amazed that I had the nerve to write a classic Big Thriller as my very first work of fiction.

If I had had any sense, I would have started with short stories and worked up from there. But the truth is that GAMES OF THE HANGMAN was my very first work of fiction—and it is about 16o,000 words long. In terms of pages, that depends upon the layout, but you are talking the bones of 500 printed pages.

Incidentally, WAR & PEACE—one of the longest novels ever written—has 560,000 words. First novels are generally supposed to have substantially less than 100,000 words. I broke the rules with a vengeance.

I must have been insane. Actually, I had several things going for me.

• I had no formal training in fiction writing. Though I believe in education, I feel very lucky to have escaped Creative Fiction 101. It  might have helped me—and I would certainly have mastered technique sooner—but I didn’t want to be confined to a set of rules I felt were no more than arbitrary. I still feel that.
• I had no one to advise me and tell me it couldn’t be done. Mentors are a fine thing, but they can also be inhibiting.
• I was too ignorant to know I couldn’t do it. Ignorance is a much under-rated asset. The trouble with knowledge is that you know the risks—and have learned to fear them. Daring—which is what works—suffers. The SAS motto of He Who Dares Wins is not just bravado. Trust me on this. I know.
• I have always liked Big Thrillers so I was very familiar with the form. This was vastly important. I just felt comfortable.
• I had no experience of writing short stories—even at school—so wasn’t tempted to start with something I already knew something about. Also, I wasn’t confident that I could come up with the kinds of twists that short stories require. I didn’t then have that kind of mind. Do I now? I guess I’m going to find out.
• I had a story which I felt fitted the Big Thriller format in scale and scope. It did. It does. It is, in truth, a great story—and, of course, it is rooted in reality.
• I naturally “write long.” This not necessarily considered to be a good thing. All I can say is that it has worked for me—though I will admit that I have learned to write tighter. Blogging has helped in that regard. But, the core trouble is that the professionals have become prisoners of convention—but convention is rarely right. Almost by definition, it is a day late—and, all too often, just plain wrong. 

Pause while I shudder.

Starting line after line with “I” is bad form—though hard to avoid when writing a blog of this nature within time limitations that really don’t permit re-writing.

Where short stories are concerned, what has changed?

• There is now a commercial need. Specifically, I need something which I can give away, or sell cheaply, to promote my name and help build up my mailing list.
• A combination of the trend towards reading on mobile devices and our lifestyles seems to point towards an increasing demand for the short.
• Blogging has made me quite enthusiastic about “writing short”—especially since I pretty much hated it initially. Working away at it has brought me around to the point where I seem to have developed a facility for it.
• Hitting my 70th birthday has made me realize that, if I am to achieve my ambitions, I had better get a move on. And one of those ambition has long been to be able to write short stories.
• Good stories seem to have wills of their own—and demand to be written whether the author will it or not. Yes, I know that sounds crazy—but it is no more than the truth.
• I have a number of short story ideas which I have been mulling over for years so I won’t quite be starting from scratch.
• The challenge attracts me.

But what is a short story? As always, I turn to Wiki—today’s Delphic oracle—and a great deal clearer.

A short story is a brief work of literature, usually written in narrative prose.^[1] Emerging from earlier oral storytellingtraditions in the 17th century, the short story has grown to encompass a body of work so diverse as to defy easy characterization. At its most prototypical the short story features a small cast of named characters, and focuses on a self-contained incident with the intent of evoking a "single effect" or mood.^[2] In doing so, short stories make use of plot, resonance, and other dynamic components to a far greater degree than is typical of an anecdote, yet to a far lesser degree than a novel. While the short story is largely distinct from the novel, authors of both generally draw from a common pool of literary techniques.

Short stories have no set length. In terms of word count there is no official demarcation between an anecdote, a short story, and a novel. Rather, the form's parameters are given by the rhetorical and practical context in which a given story is produced and considered, so that what constitutes a short story may differ between genres, countries, eras, and commentators.^[3] Like the novel, the short story's predominant shape reflects the demands of the available markets for publication, and the evolution of the form seems closely tied to the evolution of the publishing industry and the submission guidelines of its constituent houses.^[4]

The short story has been considered both an apprenticeship form preceding more lengthy works, and a crafted form in its own right, collected together in books of similar length, price, and distribution as novels. Short story writers may define their works as part of the artistic and personal expression of the form. They may also attempt to resist categorization by genre and fixed form.

Determining what exactly separates a short story from longer fictional formats is problematic. A classic definition of a short story is that one should be able to read it in one sitting, a point most notably made in Edgar Allan Poe's essay "Thomas Le Moineau (Le Moile)" (1846). Interpreting this standard nowadays is problematic, since the expected length of "one sitting" may now be briefer than it was in Poe's era. Other definitions place the maximum word count of the short story at anywhere from 1,000 to 4,000. In contemporary usage, the term short story most often refers to a work of fiction no shorter than 1,000 and no longer than 20,000 words. Stories of fewer than 1,000 words are sometimes referred to as "short short stories",^[5] or "flash fiction."

As a point of reference for the genre writer, the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America define short story length in the Nebula Awards for science fiction submission guidelines as having a word count of fewer than 7,500.^[6]

Longer stories that cannot be called novels are sometimes considered "novellas" or novelettes and, like short stories, may be collected into the more marketable form of "collections", often containing previously unpublished stories. Sometimes, authors who do not have the time or money to write a novella or novel decide to write short stories instead, working out a deal with a popular website or magazine to publish them for profit.

So what are my standards going to be?

• No longer than 10,000 words—and probably much shorter.
• To be written within a week.
• To be very tightly written.
• Always to have a twist.
• To be multi genre.
• To incorporate humor as much as possible.

Do I have a favorite short story? I have two.

• ROLLERBALL by William Harrison
• LEININGEN VERSUS THE ANTS by Carl Stephenson

When it comes to short story writers, I tend to think of

• SAKI (H.H. Monroe)
• SOMERSET MAUGHN
• GIOVANNINO GUARESCHI (Don Camillo)
• G.K. CHESTERTON

The photo is of Saki. The text below is from Wiki.

Hector Hugh Munro (18 December 1870 – 13 November 1916), better known by the pen name Saki, and also frequently as H. H. Munro, was a British writer whose witty, mischievous and sometimes macabre stories satirize Edwardian society and culture. He is considered a master of the short story, and often compared to O. Henry and Dorothy Parker. Influenced by Oscar Wilde, Lewis Carroll and Rudyard Kipling, he himself influenced A. A. Milne, Noël Coward and P. G. Wodehouse.^[1]

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September 9 2014. All Americans are equal—but some are more equal than others. And some—corporations in particular—have no sense of social responsibility. Corporations are people, aren’t they? Mitt Romney says they are. But don’t you have to be human to be a person? Not in America. Here, inhuman will do fine—and you can behave accordingly.

How adept at avoiding taxes have America’s CEOs become?

This adept: In 2013, corporate profits jumped $93 billion, says the Commerce Department, but the taxes U.S. corporations paid on those profits dropped by over $15 billion.

Sam Pizzigati, www.toomuchonline.org

The moral is to the physical as three to one.

Napoleon

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A policy of underpaying workers to the point where millions need government assistance to keep them out of poverty—which is the current situation—does not speak well of the American Business Model.

• DEMORALIZED WORKFORCE. It makes for an unhappy and demoralized workforce—which is scarcely conducive to productivity.  Currently, it is under 1 percent—less than half the typical historical figure.
• NEGATIVE SOCIAL CONSEQUENCES. There are all sorts of negative social consequences from poverty, to being food insecure, to undermining family cohesion, to health issues, to fostering crime.
• LOW DEMAND. It suppresses demand which undermines economic growth.
• WEAKENS U.S. MARKET. Because demand is suppressed, it undermines sales—and thus profitability—of corporations which are primarily dependent on the U.S. market—which, in turn, undermines employment and investment.
• BUSINESS SUBSIDY. It amounts to yet another business subsidy.
• MARKETPLACE DISTORTION. It distorts the marketplace.
• GOVERNMENT EXPENDITURE DISTORTION. It distorts government expenditure. Funds spent on such subsidies are not available for infrastructure or other more desirable uses.
• NATIONAL DEBT. It adds to our National Debt.
• HYPOCRITAL. It is grossly hypocritical—and is the antithesis of the free market system we purport to follow.

The negative side effects of low pay are already widely in evidence. We have just experienced the worst recession since the Great Depression and the recovery—even after five years—is the slowest we have ever seen. Unemployment is finally beginning to fall, but millions who want full time jobs are only working part-time, investment in plant and equipment is worryingly low, and out infrastructure is in a terrible state.

True, corporate profits have never been higher, and the stock market is booming, but this situation primarily benefits only an affluent elite—and graphically demonstrates the unhealthy dominance of financialization and speculation of the U.S. economy.

I really don’t understand this U.S. corporate obsession with treating workers badly. It is not universal, but it is widespread. The notion that a workforce is a disposable commodity is a serious cultural problem. People do not give of their best when they feel under-valued. Then there are other issues like:

• INADEQUATE MINIMUM WAGE. A minimum wage which is far too low.
• PERVASIVE WAGE THEFT. Wage theft (which is widespread).
• HOURS DELIBERATELY RATIONED. Limiting hours to keep under the minimum where some benefit kicks in (and thus keeping the worker in poverty).
• ARBITRARY SCHEDULING. Near impossible scheduling.
• NO JOB SECURITY. Arbitrary dismissal.
• SHORT TO NON EXISTENT PAID VACATIONS. Minimum or non-existent paid vacations.

Northern Europe has shown that this kind of gratuitous meanness is unnecessary—and that, in fact, profits—and life in general—can be a whole lot better if you treat your workers well.

The Costco story is an interesting one (and there are others like it). Let me quote from a recent Business Week story.

Costco Wholesale (COST), the second-largest retailer in the U.S. behind Walmart, is an anomaly in an age marked by turmoil and downsizing. Known for its $55-a-year membership fee and its massive, austere warehouses stocked floor to ceiling with indulgent portions of everything from tilapia to toilet paper, Costco has thrived over the last five years. While competitors lost customers to the Internet and weathered a wave of investor pessimism, Costco’s sales have grown 39 percent and its stock price has doubled since 2009. The hot streak continued through last year’s retirement of widely admired co-founder and Chief Executive Officer Jim Sinegal. The share price is up 30 percent under the leadership of its new, plain-spoken CEO, Craig Jelinek.

Despite the sagging economy and challenges to the industry, Costco pays its hourly workers an average of $20.89 an hour, not including overtime (vs. the minimum wage of $7.25 an hour). By comparison, Walmart said its average wage for full-time employees in the U.S. is $12.67 an hour, according to a letter it sent in April to activist Ralph Nader. Eighty-eight percent of Costco employees have company-sponsored health insurance; Walmart says that “more than half” of its do. Costco workers with coverage pay premiums that amount to less than 10 percent of the overall cost of their plans. It treats its employees well in the belief that a happier work environment will result in a more profitable company. “I just think people need to make a living wage with health benefits,” says Jelinek. “It also puts more money back into the economy and creates a healthier country. It’s really that simple.”

Quite.

The U.S. corporate argument that unions and decent wages are incompatible with being globally competitive and profitable is demonstrably untrue—as Northern Europe demonstrates.

The following is a short extract from THE CRASH OF 2016 by Thom Hartmann.

Actually, Germany paid their autoworkers about $67 an hour (including wages and benefits). But the United States paid its average worker only $33 an hour (also including wages and benefits). On top of that, German car manufacturers were highly profitable, despite the comparatively large paychecks of their workers. BMW earned a before-tax profit of 3.8 billion euros, and Mercedes-Benz hauled in profits of 4.6 billion euros.

So how did Germany just completely blow up the myth that car companies have to pay their workers less to be more profitable and manufacture more cars? How can Germany do the opposite: pay their workers more, be more profitable, and make more cars?

The answer: democracy.

First, Germans have completely democratized the auto plant by unionizing nearly every single autoworker in the country—under IG Metall, the German autoworkers union. With such a high union membership rate, autoworkers hold a lot of sway when they threaten to go on strike. That’s how workers have been able to keep wages high and working conditions satisfactory. But as Horst Mund, the head of the International Department of the German autoworkers union, pointed out, unions hardly ever go on strike in Germany “because there is an elaborate system of conflict resolution that regularly is used to come to the sort of compromise that is acceptable to all parties.”

BLOWBACK. Sooner or later there is going to be blowback against 40 years of U.S. corporate greed, short termism, and obsession with shareholder value to the exclusion of other stakeholders such as employees, suppliers, the local community, and society in general. In fact, there are some signs it has started already—both in the workforce where Fast Food workers are pushing ever more strongly for a $15 an hour minimum wage (which you might expect) and in the business community where entrepreneurs such as Nick Hanauer have been speaking up (which is particularly encouraging).

Will it show up in the Mid-Terms? Possibly too soon. 2016? Almost certainly.

But it is going to happen—largely because it has to. The present grossly unjust economic situation is unsustainable.

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