Pam ŷch chi yna o hyd?

A clash on the pitch by two teams who don’t know how to play rugby. The England fans should appreciate the fervour of their opponents, who are neighbours, so I commissioned a version of the Welsh fans’ song, adapted for England fans to sing, if they can read Welsh, as all cultured men and women should:

Anghofiwch eich breuddwyd Macsen
Dim ond Eidalwr marw yw e
Mae mil a chwe chant o flynyddoedd
Yn amser rhy hir i’r segura
Pan aeth Macsen Wledig o’r Gorllewin
Gan ysgwyd ei ben mewn anobaith
A gadael y mynyddwyr
A heddiw wele chi!

Pam ŷch chi yna o hyd?
Pam ŷch chi yna o hyd?
Er gwaetha popeth y gallech fod
Er gwaetha popeth y gallech fod
Pam ŷch chi yna o hyd?
Pam ŷch chi yna o hyd?
Er gwaetha popeth y gallech fod
Er gwaetha popeth y gallech fod
Er gwaetha popeth y gallech fod
Pam ŷch chi yna o hyd?

Edrych yn ofalus i’r Dwyrain
A’r byd y tu hwnt i’r môr
Roedd eich hynafiaid
Yn rheoli’r ynys gyfan
Felly i ble aethon nhw?
Ry’n ni yma o hyd!
Rydyn ni’n Brydeiniwr cystal â chi
Pam aros yn y tywyllwch?

Pam ŷch chi yna o hyd?
Pam ŷch chi yna o hyd?
Er gwaetha popeth y gallech fod
Er gwaetha popeth y gallech fod
Er gwaetha popeth y gallech fod
Pam ŷch chi yna o hyd?
Pam ŷch chi yna o hyd?
Er gwaetha popeth y gallech fod
Er gwaetha popeth y gallech fod
Er gwaetha popeth y gallech fod
Pam ŷch chi yna o hyd?

Adael ein gwlad yn un darn
Prydain yw’r genedl fwyaf pwerus
Gadewch iddo sefyll tan Ddydd y Farn!
Er gwaethaf pob rhanwyr
Er gwaetha ‘rhen Ddrakeford a’i griw
Byddwn yma hyd ddiwedd amser
Gadael yr iaith yn y bryniau.

Pam ŷch chi yna o hyd?
Pam ŷch chi yna o hyd?
Er gwaetha popeth y gallech fod
Er gwaetha popeth y gallech fod
Er gwaetha popeth y gallech fod
Pam ŷch chi yna o hyd?
Pam ŷch chi yna o hyd?
Er gwaetha popeth y gallech fod
Er gwaetha popeth y gallech fod
Er gwaetha popeth y gallech fod
Pam ŷch chi yna o hyd?

Pam ŷch chi yna o hyd?
Er gwaetha popeth y gallech fod
Er gwaetha popeth y gallech fod
Er gwaetha popeth y gallech fod
Pam ŷch chi yna o hyd?
Pam ŷch chi yna o hyd?
Er gwaetha popeth y gallech fod
Er gwaetha popeth y gallech fod
Er gwaetha popeth y gallech fod
Pam ŷch chi yna o hyd?

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Books

Productive and Unproductive Labour

My taxes support an army of wasters. It is unsustainable (in the proper sense of the term) just as Adam Smith taught us two and a half centuries ago. We need a refresher course.

An argument for ‘No representation without taxation’ will not get of the starting blocks, allowing only to those who make a net contribution to vote, but it is what I think when particularly frustrated as a (mostly) economically productive man in my way, gasping at the army of civil servants and hangers-on feeding off tax money while creating nothing themselves.

Adam Smith made the distinction between productive and unproductive labour and, crucially, identified that labour can be valuable and indeed necessary but still be unproductive of value. A society thrives economically only if productive labour dominates, but today the balance has shifted to unsustainable unproductivity.

Smith wrote:

“There is one sort of labour which adds to the value of the subject upon which it is bestowed; there is another which has no such effect. The former as it produces a value, may be called productive, the latter, unproductive labour.

Thus the labour of a manufacturer adds generally to the value of the materials which he works upon, that of his own maintenance, and of his master’s profit. Though the manufacturer has his wages advanced to him by his master, he in reality costs him no expense, the value of those wages being generally restored, together with a profit, in the improved value of the subject upon which his labour is bestowed. But the maintenance of a menial servant never is restored.

A man grows rich by employing a multitude of manufacturers; he grows poor by maintaining a multitude or menial servants. The labour of the latter, however, has its value, and deserves its reward as well as that of the former. But the labour of the manufacturer fixes and realizes itself in some particular subject or vendible commodity, which lasts for some time at least after that labour is past. It is, as it were, a certain quantity of labour stocked and stored up, to be employed, if necessary, upon some other occasion. That subject, or, what is the same thing, the price of that subject, can afterwards, if necessary, put into motion a quantity of labour equal to that which had originally produced it. The labour of the menial servant, on the contrary, does not fix or realize itself in any particular subject or vendible commodity. His services generally perish in the very instant of their performance, and seldom leave any trace of value behind them, for which an equal quantity of service could afterwards be procured.

The labour of some of the most respectable orders in the society is, like that of menial servants, unproductive of any value, and does not fix or realize itself in any permanent subject, or vendible commodity, which endures after that labour is past, and for which an equal quantity of labour could afterwards be procured.

The sovereign, for example, with all the officers both of justice and war who serve under him, the whole army and navy, are unproductive labourers. They are the servants of the public, and are maintained by a part of the annual produce of the industry of other people. Their service, how honourable, how useful, or how necessary soever, produces nothing for which an equal quantity of service can afterwards be procured. The protection, security, and defence, of the commonwealth, the effect of their labour this year, will not purchase its protection, security, and defence, for the year to come.

In the same class must be ranked, some both of the gravest and most important, and some of the most frivolous professions; churchmen, lawyers, physicians, men of letters of all kinds; players, buffoons, musicians, opera-singers, opera-dancers, etc. The labour of the meanest of these has a certain value, regulated by the very same principles which regulate that of every other sort of labour; and that of the noblest and most useful, produces nothing which could afterwards purchase or procure an equal quantity of labour. Like the declamation of the actor, the harangue of the orator, or the tune of the musician, the work of all of them perishes in the very instant of its production.

Both productive and unproductive labourers, and those who do not labour at all, are all equally maintained by the annual produce of the land and labour of the country. This produce, how great soever, can never be infinite, but must have certain limits.

Though the whole annual produce of the land and labour of every country is no doubt ultimately destined for supplying the consumption of its inhabitants, and for procuring a revenue to them; yet when it first comes either from the ground, or from the hands of the productive labourers.”

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Books

A time to rend, and a time to sew

Why do we weep at the changes of life, even things not of ourselves? What is the sadness for the loss of those things which were not ours to mourn?

We crave, all of us, our stability, even if we effect to crave destruction. Change is mournful. We may weep, or retreat into petty concerns. As Alaric smashed his way into Rome, the Emperor Honorius fed his chickens – the one thing he could still do. And Augustine wrote “Why do you weep for a city that burns so easily?”

A man who loses his wife or a child may throw himself into dulling work, or enclose himself in a dark room to try to think of nothing.

These are grand losses though – all change is loss, in a destruction of a familiar, comforting part of life. The nation mourned deeply this autumn for the loss of our Queen, truly beloved beyond the conventional commonplaces, and it seemed the world had turned, so that nothing we knew would be familiar again; but the genius of our system is of course that the King continued without upheaval, changing and renewing things but continuing our familiar patterns.  These were things for which the end was ordained at the beginning, as part of the beginning. Change is necessary, to develop and grow into new endeavours, but we need not like it.

A death, or a birth, a job ends, a new one begins, moving house, or everyday things like replacing the family car, have a grip on the heart in their own way.  I find even finishing a book, if a truly great one, feels like a little death; the familiar companion of the evenings has departed me. It will lead me soon enough to another book (and I have a house full of books in every room) but it is a change and change is discomforting.

Hobbes wrote that “For if a man banished, be neverthelesse permitted to enjoy his Goods, and the Revenue of his Lands, the meer change of ayr is no punishment”, but I am not so sure: in literature exile is universally a mournful thing.

It is in this necessity of reluctant change that we are presented with the famous Chapter 3 of Ecclesiastes; “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:…”  There is, as the Preacher says, “A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;”, but for making out own changes too: “A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew”, and all through the changes of life.

There is much that we may miss from the Chapter, and the whole book: here the Preacher gives the uncomfortable observation that man is one of the beasts of the earth and goes to the same end (and there is nothing better, than that a man should rejoice in his own works; for that is his portion: for who shall bring him to see what shall be after him?) In our work we create, and to create is to build something new, unfamiliar, but in that there is joy from the procreator – it is not unfamiliar but from his own self. Mournful change is often outside our control.

There are whole books on this nature of ourselves – not books taking about it (there may be; dry and unread) but every good novel ever written understands it and works its plot around our universal truths.

Change is also part of our portion. We need to embrace it – we may weep, mourn, or embrace the new way with timidity, or thrill to the new to hide the sadness of loss of the old, for all things change for good or ill and there is nothing new under the sun.

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Books

A behemoth rises twittering

Convulsions at Twitter do not excite me, except that it is Elon Musk, whose works are always fascinating. He creates the best cars in the world, the best rockets in or off the world and co-created the world’s on-line payment system.  Twitter is a step down, but that is because it has been run without vision.

For most, Twitter is a leisure thing; an opportunity to shout at the air without consequence, and no matter that no one is listening. Mary Wakefield in the Spectator recently called it a playground, so Elon Musk is the kid with the biggest bouncy castle in the world. Good for him. He deserves the childhood once denied to him.

For others, Twitter is a marketing tool – a part of their business or their political campaign. They cannot expect to get it for free any more than they could expect to put billboards up on the highway without paying. Those making a fuss at paying a tiny monthly subscription fee for a special position on a marketing tool worth far, far more to them are disingenuous.

It certainly needs more than the dribble from those $8 a month blue-tick payments. I was astounded to read of the depth of the losses suffered by Twitter – it is a wonder that investors had any faith in it with no hope of an income. It recalls the dot-com boom and bust, which recalled the bubble that burst in the Wall Street Crash, which recalled the South Sea Bubble, for there is nothing new under the sun. The dot-com boom saw countless millions of dollars hosed into start-ups whose only real asset was a slick-looking website, which could never deliver a profit; and the crash was quite foreseeable. Twitter has also failed to make a profit.

However, there were enormous successes from the dot-com boom, by companies which did deliver a paid-for service. The boom was a bust for most, but generalisation must not tarnish the whole era:  Amazon soared from this, and those which did provide the service they promised: delivery was the key.

Twitter though is something people do not pay to use, so what is its purpose? Its income, as I understand it, is that adverts appear, largely unregarded, and it sells data on trends and so forth. This could be a good income if the site could be set free with no work needed to be done on it, but somehow that does not work, and so a new master mind is needed to find and exploit the opportunities. Opportunities can hardly be far away when you have a billion customers.

Just being a billboard for people to spraying rude messages is pathetic. If Twitter is to be anything, then the μ-blogging is just the loss-leader to attract customers to the real business. There are things the billions drawn to the honeypot want to buy, and a trusted brand can make the most of this. The man who co-created PayPal will know this.  The man who realised that an electric car can be exciting and practical will understand. An app can do so much more, and we can only be shocked that those who created Twitter threw all those opportunities away.

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Books

 

Adhaerence; credulity; curiosity

Ignorance of remote causes, disposeth men to attribute all events, to the causes immediate, and Instrumentall: For these are all the causes they perceive. And hence it comes to passe, that in all places, men that are grieved with payments to the Publique, discharge their anger upon the Publicans, that is to say, Farmers, Collectors, and other Officers of the publique Revenue; and adhaere to such as find fault with the publike Government; and thereby, when they have engaged themselves beyond hope of justification, fall also upon the Supreme Authority, for feare of punishment, or shame of receiving pardon.

Ignorance of naturall causes disposeth a man to Credulity, so as to believe many times impossibilities: for such know nothing to the contrary, but that they may be true; being unable to detect the Impossibility. And Credulity, because men love to be hearkened unto in company, disposeth them to lying: so that Ignorance it selfe without Malice, is able to make a man bothe to believe lyes, and tell them; and sometimes also to invent them.

Anxiety for the future time, disposeth men to enquire into the causes of things: because the knowledge of them, maketh men the better able to order the present to their best advantage.

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Books