By far the best analysis of Syrian situation that I have seen. Perhaps Obama needs to read this!

So, What’s It Going To Be?

"COMMENTARY • Opinion • ISSUE 49•35 • Aug 28, 2013

By Bashar Al-Assad

• 53.

Well, here we are. It’s been two years of fighting, over 100,000 people are dead, there are no signs of this war ending, and a week ago I used chemical weapons on my own people. If you don’t do anything about it, thousands of Syrians are going to die. If you do something about it, thousands of Syrians are going to die. Morally speaking, you’re on the hook for those deaths no matter how you look at it.

So, it’s your move, America. What’s it going to be?

I’ve looked at your options, and I’m going to be honest here, I feel for you. Not exactly an embarrassment of riches you’ve got to choose from, strategy-wise. I mean, my God, there are just so many variables to consider, so many possible paths to choose, each fraught with incredible peril, and each leading back to the very real, very likely possibility that no matter what you do it’s going to backfire in a big, big way. It’s a good old-fashioned mess, is what this is! And now, you have to make some sort of decision that you can live with.

So, where do I begin? Well, this is just the tip of the iceberg, but let’s start with the fact that my alliance with Russia and China means that nothing you decide to do will have the official support of the UN Security Council. So, right off the bat, I’ve already eliminated the possibility of a legally sound united coalition like in Libya or the First Gulf War. Boom. Gone. Off the table.

Now, let’s say you’re okay with that, and you decide to go ahead with, oh, I don’t know, a bombing campaign. Now, personally, I can see how that might seem like an attractive option for you. No boots on the ground, it sends a clear message, you could cripple some of my government’s infrastructure, and it’s a quick, clean, easy way to punish me and make you look strong in the face of my unimaginable tyranny. But let’s get real here. Any bombing campaign capable of being truly devastating to my regime would also end up killing a ton of innocent civilians, as such things always do, which I imagine is the kind of outcome you people would feel very guilty about. You know, seeing as you are so up in arms to begin with about innocent Syrians dying. Plus, you’d stoke a lot of anti-American hatred and quite possibly create a whole new generation of Syrian-born jihadists ready to punish the United States for its reckless warmongering and yadda yadda yadda.

Okay, what else? Well, you could play small-ball and hope that limited airstrikes to a few of my key military installations will send me the message to refrain from using chemical weapons again, but, c’mon, check me out: I’m ruthless, I’m desperate, and I’m going to do everything I can to stay in power. I’d use chemical weapons again in a heartbeat. You know that. And I know you know that. Hell, I want to help you guys out here, but you gotta be realistic. Trust me, I am incapable of being taught a lesson at this point. Got it? I am too far gone. Way too far gone.

Oh, and I know some of you think a no-fly zone will do the trick, but we both know you can’t stomach the estimated $1 billion a month that would cost, so wave bye-bye to that one, too.

Moving on.

I suppose you could always, you know, not respond with military force at all. But how can you do that? I pumped sarin gas into the lungs of my own people, for God’s sake! You can’t just let me get away with that, can you? I mean, I guess you easily could, and spare yourself all of this headache, but then you would probably lose any of your remaining moral high ground on the world stage and make everything from the Geneva Conventions to America’s reputation as a beacon for freedom and democracy around the world look like a complete sham.

And, hey, as long as we’re just throwing stuff out there, let’s consider a ground invasion for a moment. Now, even if you could reasonably fund a ground invasion, which I’m pretty sure you can’t, what exactly would such an invasion accomplish in the long term? I suppose it’s possible that you could come in and sweep me out the door and that would be the end of it. It’s possible. You know, like, in the sense that seeing a majestic white Bengal tiger in the wild is possible. Or, more likely, you could find yourself entrenched in a full-blown civil war that drags on for 15 years and sets off further turmoil in the rest of the region, leading to even more dead bodies for your country and mine, and even more virulent hatred of America. In fact, boy, maybe this is the one option that should be totally off the table.

Oh, and speaking of me being toppled from power, let’s say, just for fun, that tomorrow I were to somehow be dethroned. Who’s in charge? Half of these rebel groups refuse to work with one another and it’s getting harder to tell which ones are actually just Islamic extremists looking to fill a potential power vacuum. We’ve got Christians, Sunnis, and Shias all poised to fight one another for control should I fall. You want to be the ones sorting through that mess when you’re trying to build a new government? I didn’t think so.

So, all in all, quite the pickle you’re in, isn’t it? I have to say, I do not envy you here. Really curious to see where you go with this one.

I’ll leave you with this: I am insane. Not insane enough to generate worldwide unanimity that I cannot remain in charge of my own country. That would make this a lot easier. No, unfortunately, I’m just sane and stable enough to remain in power and devise cunning military and political strategies while at the same time adhering to a standard of morality that only the most perverse and sociopathic among us would be capable of adopting. But nevertheless, I am insane, so do with that information what you will.

Long story short, I’m going to keep doing my best to hold on to my country no matter what the cost. If that means bombing entire towns, murdering small children, or shooting at UN weapons inspectors, so be it. I’m in this for the long haul. And you will do...whatever it is you’re going to do, which is totally up to you. Your call.

Anyway, let me know what you decide. I’ll be waiting."

Drinks anybody?

Drinking has many adherents and sometimes they wax eloquent in poetry. Here are but two samples from India:

Khushwant Singh, a member of the Delhi Gymkhana Club at 92 years, wrote this poem for the DG Club newsletter!

Pickled In Rum

The horse and the mule live for 30 years, And know nothing of wines and beer; The goat and sheep at 20 die, And never get a taste of Scotch and rye. The cow drinks water by the tonne And at 18 is mostly done Without the aid of rum and gin. The cat in milk and water soaks, And then in 12 short years it croaks. The modest, sober, bone-dry hen Lays eggs for others, then dies at 10. All animals are strictly dry, They sinless live and swiftly die. But sinful, ginful, rum-soaked men Survive for three score years and ten, And some of them, though very few, Stay pickled till they’re 92. Cheers __._,_.___

And here is the most famous poem on drinking by Amitabh Bacchan s father!

               Madhushala (The Tavern)

  Seeking wine, the drinker leaves home for the tavern.
  Perplexed, he asks, "Which path will take me there?"
  People show him different ways, but this is what I have to say,
  "Pick a path and keep walking. You will find the tavern."

  Hark! The wine gurgles and splashes as it falls from the goblet.
  Hark! It sounds like the tinkling of bells on the feet of an intoxicated girl.
  We have reached there, a few steps are we from the tavern,
  Hark! Hear the laughter of the drinkers, as the fragrance of the tavern wafts through the air.

  Call it not lava, though it flows red, like a tongue of flame.
  Call it not the blistered heart, for it is only foaming wine.
  Lost memories serve the wine, that intoxicates with pain.
  If you find happiness in suffering, come to my tavern.

  He who has burnt all scriptures with his inner fire,
  Has broken temples, mosques and churches with carefree abandon,
  And has cut the nooses of pandits, mullahs and priests ---
  Only he is welcome in my tavern.

  Alas, he that with eager lips, has not kissed this wine,
  Alas, he that trembling with joy, has not touched a brimming goblet,
  He that has not drawn close the coy wine-maiden by her hand,
  Has wasted this honey-filled tavern of Life.

  My beloved wine-maiden seems a priest; her wine as pure as the Ganga's waters.
  With unbroken pace, she rotates the rosary of wine glasses.
  "Drink more! Drink more!" she intones in prayer.
  I am Shiva incarnate and this tavern is my temple.

  Only once every year, the fires of Holi are lit.
  Only once is the game played and are garlands of lamps lit.
  But, O, those who are lost in the world, come and see the tavern any day,
  The tavern celebrates a Holi, every morning and a Diwali every night.

  Whatever the taste on my lips, it tastes like wine.
  Whatever the vessel in my hands, it feels like a goblet.
  Every face dissolves into the features of my wine-maiden,
  And whatever be in front of my eyes, they fill only with visions of the tavern.

  Ah, Beautiful, your lovely face is like a crystal bowl,
  Whose precious gem is your beauty, sparkling like sweet, intoxicating wine.
  I am the wine-maiden and I am the guest.
  Where sit we together, there indeed is the tavern.

  A mere two days she served me but the young maiden is sulking now.
  She fills my goblet and passes it curtly to me.
  Her coquetry and charms are lost arts;
  All the tavern wishes now is to fulfil its obligations.

  Life is short. How much love can I give and how much can I drink?
  They say, "He departs," at the very moment that he is born.
  While he is being welcomed, I have seen his farewell being prepared.
  They started closing the shutters of the tavern, as soon as they were raised.

  O maiden! Which burning heart has been pacified by drinking?
  Every drinker repeats only one chant, "More! More!"
  Seeking satisfaction, he leaves behind so many desires.
  Of how many such hopes is this tavern a tomb?

  Yama will come as the wine-maiden and bring his black wine,
  Drink, and know no more consciousness, O carefree one.
  This is the ultimate trance, the ultimate wine-maiden and the ultimate goblet.
  O traveller, drink judiciously, for you will never find the tavern again.

  Each day, O companion, spills more wine from my life.
  Each day, O fortunate one, this goblet, my body, is burnt.
  Each day, O lovely woman, this wine-maiden, my youth, distances itself from me.
  Each day, O beauty, this tavern, my Life, is drying up.

  When from the earthen jar of my body, the wine of life is emptied,
  When the final wine-maiden comes with her bowl of poison,
  When my hand forgets the touch of the goblet, and my lips the taste of wine,
  Whisper in my ears, "the wine, the goblet, the tavern!"

  Touch not my lips with tulasi, but with the goblet, when I die.
  Touch not my tongue with the Ganga's waters, but with wine, when I die.
  When you bear my corpse, pallbearers, remember this!
  Call not the name of God, but call to the truth that is the tavern.

  Weep over my corpse, if you can weep tears of wine.
  Sigh dejectedly for me, if you are intoxicated and carefree.
  Bear me on your shoulders, if you stumble drunkenly along.
  Cremate me on that land, where there once was a tavern.

  Pour on my ashes, not ghee, but wine.
  Tie to a vine of grapes, not a waterpot, but a wine-goblet.
  And when, my darling, you must call guests for the ritual feast,
  Do this - call those who will drink and have the tavern opened for them.

  If anyone asks my name, say it was, "The Drunkard".
  My work? I drank and passed the goblet to everyone.
  O Beloved, if they ask my caste, say only that I was mad.
  Say my religion worshipped goblets and then chant with your rosary, "The tavern, the tavern!"

  O son, raise not water at my final rites, but wine in your palms.
  And sit somewhere, having filled the Ganga with wine.
  If you can wet the earth somewhere, my soul will be satisfied.
  Offer your libations to your ancestral spirits by reading repeatedly, "The tavern, the tavern."

-- Harivansh Rai Bachchan

For Facebook addicts- finally a cure...

"Well, Facebook is officially the bad habit of internetting—that fixation you can't seem to kick, feel really guilty about, but sneak it anyway at night while no one's looking. As studies have shown, using Facebook makes us feel depressed and lonely, yet we still spend almost seven hours a week browsing, stalking, and “liking” the time away, because social networking is super addictive—perhaps even more so than cigarettes or alcohol.

So, a couple of PhD students at MIT—finding themselves too addicted to do their actual research—developed a system that tracks your online activity and zaps you with a painful shock if it sees you’re spending too much time on Facebook.

They’re calling it the Pavlov Poke, after 19th century Russian physiologist Ivan Pavlov, famous for discovering classical conditioning—the concept of using positive or negative stimuli to encourage a behavior change. We employ the psychological trick all the time: Finish homework, get cookie, the homework gets done. Cat jumps on counter, gets sprayed with water bottle, it no longer jumps on counter. The Pavlov Poke works like an electric fence: you're the dog and Facebook is the neighbor's yard.

“To be truly effective, many shock exposures are probably needed. Proper conditioning procedures should be followed," wrote Robert Morris, one of the students, for an article on Medium. However after electrocuting themselves several times in the name of science, the pair decided the shocks were a bit too unpleasant, and decided to try a different approach: peer ridicule.

They enlisted Amazon's Mechanical Turk and paid strangers $1.40 to call them up and yell at them for wasting too much time Facebooking. The callers read from pre-written scripts: "Hey, stop using Facebook! What the hell is wrong with you? You lazy piece of garbage. You're a dumb freaking idiot, you know that? Get it together!”Here’s how the technology works. Computer use is tracked with a Mac UI Inspector. If a distracting site is visited too frequently, a processing script sends an alert to the screen, or onto the Mechanical Turk workers, who then call and scold you. Or if that isn't enough, an Arduino connected the computer can activate with the alert, and start the shock circuit, sending up a current through metal conductive strips on the keypad, up through the palm of your hand.

“After a few shock exposures, these automatic behaviors seemed completely rewired. I no longer visited the site unless I wanted to. My fingers no longer started spelling Facebook as soon as I opened a browser window,” Morris wrote. “I still visited the site, but I wasn’t dragged there by some mysterious Ouija-esque compulsion.”

Clearly, the project is testing a concept; the students won’t actually be selling the device—it's meant to start a conversation about the growing problem of addictive technology and possible solutions. But I wouldn’t be surprised if in the not-too-distant future the shelves of Best Buy are lined with products like this, say, for parents to censor or limit the time their kids spend online.

Already people have been turning to slapdash DIY tricks to try and resist the temptation. A friend of mine has a piece of masking tape that says NO FACEBOOK stuck to his computer screen. And this guy hired a girl on Craigslist to sit next to him while he worked on his laptop and slap him upside the head every time he strayed off task. There's also the iFreeFace application that, when downloaded, blocks online distractions and lets you set a limit for the amount of time you're allowed to spend on the site. The app's website boasts that it "Helps to cure mild Facebook addiction."

"As new technologies become more mobile, they become harder and harder to resist, writes Morris. “Indeed, the more ubiquitous and accessible the technology, the more addictive it can become.” More than a billion people around the world are on the social network, and the companyjust announced a plan to spread internet access (and Facebook) to the next five billion. Hopefully the voracious netizens of the future can muster a little self control, before the shock treatment starts in."

By Meghan Neal 

Cashew, the miracle nut

Cashews were a luxury when I was growing up, only brought out on special occasions. There’s almost nothing you can’t do with a cashew. Not only does it lend its nutty sweetness to savory dishes, it also gives desserts a deep richness. In fact, it’s fantastic with butter and sugar or honey in just about any confection: brittle, fudge, halvah, spiced baklava, or cashew-caramel cake bars.

The cashew, botanically-known as Anacardium occidentale, is the seed of a tropical evergreen plant related to the mango, pistachio, and poison ivy. Originating in Brazil, the cashew plant made its way to India in the sixteenth century via Portuguese sailors. 

Unlike most fruits where the seed is found inside the flesh, the cashew seed hangs from the bottom of the cashew apple. Although the fresh cashew apple fruit is not only edible but delicious, it is only available to those who grow the plant. It is much too perishable to bring to market. Cashew apples begin to ferment as soon as they are picked and will barely last 24 hours. Cashew apples are highly prized in their growing locale, where they are sometimes found canned, in jams, or used to make liqueurs. 

The kidney-shaped cashew nut is encased in a hard shell with two layers. In between these layers is a black substance called cardol, which is extremely caustic and can cause blistering of the skin upon contact. This substance is removed during the shelling process and is used in the making of such products as varnish, insecticide, paint, and even rocket lubricant. For this primary reason, cashews are never sold in the shell.

 It is interesting to try to imagine how early humans discovered what was edible and what wasn’t. Who figured out that when you cooked stinging nettles, the sting would go away completely? How many people had to die before the relative toxicity of wild mushrooms became widely known? Who was the first human to survive a feast of fugu, the Japanese blowfish whose liver and other organs are as poisonous as cyanide but whose skin is safe to eat?

In the case of the cashew, someone, somewhere, a long time ago determined that it had to be roasted. The cashew was once nicknamed the blister nut, because if you try to eat it raw from the tree, your mouth pays the price. The cashew is not a nut, however; it’s a seed. On the tree, the fruit that contains it looks like a bloated green kidney bean or a boxing glove dangling comically below an upside-down red or yellow bell pepper, the swollen stalk of the fruit, called the cashew apple.

Just as the cashew isn’t really a nut, this so-called apple is a false fruit. Nonetheless, it’s juicy and edible, but it’s too perishable to ship, lasting only a day off the tree before becoming moldy and starting to rot, which is why it’s not sold in the United States. But in warmer countries like Vietnam, Brazil, and Tanzania, where cashew trees flourish, the cashew apple is juiced, candied, or made into jams and chutneys. Brazilians make it into wine. In Goa, India, where Portuguese sailors brought the cashew in the seventeenth century, cashew apples are trampled by foot, fermented, and distilled to make a liquor called feni.

Unlike other nuts (false or otherwise), cashews aren’t sold in the shell. That is because the testa skin, the inner lining between the outer shell (the actual fruit) and the kernel (the cashew), is toxic. A relative of poison ivy and poison sumac, the cashew contains the same rash-inducing chemicals, known as urushiols, as its kin. Heating the whole green fruit hardens this toxic stuff, allowing it to be separated from the seed. Once removed, this caustic goo is used in industrial materials such as waterproof paint, varnishes, lacquers, and brake linings, and meanwhile, cashew workers often suffer from skin and eye irritations and minor burns. The processing of cashews is therefore incredibly labor intensive, since most of the many steps—roasting, burning, boiling, soaking, cracking, and peeling—are completed by hand, labor performed by workers in factories primarily in India and Brazil.

Once rendered innocuous, the delicious, kidney-shaped little seeds, which turn from green to golden brown when roasted, are sorted, packaged, and shipped all over the world. They’re made into creamy cashew milk; rich, sweet cashew butter; and various highly addictive specialty snacks, including trail mix, Trader Joe’s Thai Lime and Chili Cashews, and Planter’s Honey Roasted Peanuts and Cashews (a double whammy of false nuts, because peanuts, of course, are legumes).

The best culinary use of the cashew, arguably, is in a dish found in just about every Chinese restaurant anywhere, from upscale Chinatown eateries to strip malls to takeout holes-in-the-wall. Cashew chicken consists of chicken-breast pieces marinated in a slurry of soy sauce and cornstarch—often also with sesame oil and oyster sauce—cooked with cashews and, usually, broccoli, onions, and/or green peppers. It’s reliably always edible, even in the most dubious of dining establishments, possibly because it’s so simple to prepare (it’s hard to screw it up), but also because cashews and chicken are one of those perfect, immortal flavor power couples, like apples and cinnamon, cheese and honey, or lamb and rosemary.

A close second for the best use of cashews is in curries, whether Indian, Sri Lankan, or Thai. The cashew’s sweet, nutty crunch is compatible with just about everything, sweet or savory: garam masala and curry spices, coconut milk, tomato paste, chickpeas or lentils, prawns, chicken or lamb, mango or raisins, almost any vegetable, and condiments such as chutneys, spicy pickles, or raita.

Cashews also are fantastic in Moroccan and Algerian tagines, with any combination of spices, sweet— fenugreek, coriander, and cardamom—or savory—garlic, paprika, turmeric, and black pepper, along with apricots or olives; chicken, lamb, or chickpeas; and preserved lemons or hot chilies.

Cashews are a major star in contemporary vegetarian cooking, too. , according to the Hindu medical treatise, cashews are very calming, incredibly nourishing, and helpful for insomnia, as well as an aphrodisiac. “I almost always have a bowl of them on our dining table,” she went on, “as a kind of insurance that my skinny boys will grab them on the fly, though it seems that mostly us thickening middle-aged folks eat them. They’re one of my favorite foods of all, my number-one nut. My favorite recipe to eat them in is a simple stir-fry that includes broccoli and peanut sauce.”

In happily-ever-after tradition, this semitoxic “false nut,” so arduous and complicated to process, turns out to be a stand-alone treat and one of the easiest ingredients to cook with.

What is money?

 What is money? Is it a hard asset like gold? Or is it instead "tradeable debt" -- IOUs that can be used by the noteholders to pay for other goods and services? While even today the debate rages, an unexpected discovery in the remote island of Yap provides a profound insight into the question of what is money.

As author Felix Martin reports: "In the early 1900s, an unexpected discovery was made on the tiny and remote Pacific island of Yap [or Wa'ab] that eventually came to the attention of a young John Maynard Keynes, the most influential economist of the twentieth century. For the inhabitants of Yap, money came in the form of stone wheels as large as twelve feet in diameter!"

"In 1903, [a brilliant and eccentric young American adventurer, William Henry Furness III] made a two-month visit to Yap, and published a broad survey of its physical and social make-up a few years later. He was immediately impressed by how much more remote and untouched it was than Borneo. Yet despite being a tiny island with only a few thousand inhabitants -- 'whose whole length and breadth is but a day's walk', as Furness described it -- Yap turned out to have a remarkably complex society. There was a caste system, with a tribe of slaves, and special clubhouses lived in by fishing and fighting fraternities. ... But undoubtedly the most striking thing that Furness discovered on Yap was its monetary system."

"The economy of Yap, such as it was, could hardly be called developed. The market extended to a bare three products -- fish, coconuts, and Yap's one and only luxury, sea cucumber. There was no other exchangeable commodity to speak of; no agriculture; few arts and crafts; the only domesticated animals were pigs and, since the Germans [explorers] had arrived, a few cats; and there had been little contact or trade with outsiders. It was as simple and as isolated an economy as one could hope to find. Given these antediluvian conditions, Furness expected to find nothing more advanced than simple barter. Indeed, as he observed, 'in a land where food and drink and ready-made clothes grow on trees and may be had for the gathering' it seemed possible that even barter itself would be an unnecessary sophistication.'

"But Yap had a highly developed system of money and its coinage was extremely unusual. It consisted of fei -- 'large, solid, thick stone wheels ranging in diameter from a foot to twelve feet, having in the centre a hole varying in size with the diameter of the stone, wherein a pole may be inserted sufficiently large and strong to bear the weight and facilitate transportation'. This stone money was originally quarried on Babelthuap, an island some 300 miles away in Palau, and had mostly been brought to Yap, so it was said, long ago. The value of the coins depended principally on their size, but also on the fineness of the grain and the whiteness of the limestone."

BIG MONEY: A man in traditional dress with a piece of the island's currency.

"At first, Furness believed that this bizarre form of currency might have been chosen because, rather than in spite of, its extraordinary unwieldiness: 'when it takes four strong men to steal the price of a pig, burglary cannot but prove a somewhat disheartening occupation', he ventured. 'As may be supposed, thefts of fei are almost unknown.' But as time went on, he observed that physical transportation of fei from one house to another was in fact rare. Numerous transactions took place -- but the debts incurred were typically just offset against each other, with any outstanding balance carried forward in expectation of some future exchange. Even when open balances were felt to require settlement, it was not usual for fei to be physically exchanged. 

'The noteworthy feature of this stone currency,' wrote Furness, 'is that it is not necessary for its owner to reduce it to possession. After concluding a bargain which involves the price of a fei too large to be conveniently moved, its new owner is quite content to accept the bare acknowledgement of ownership and without so much as a mark to indicate the exchange, the coin remains undisturbed on the former owner's premises. 

Furness recounts the story of a  village near by about a family whose wealth was unquestioned -- acknowledged by everyone -- and yet no one, not even the family itself, had ever laid eye or hand on this wealth; it consisted of an enormous fei, whereof the size is known only by tradition; for the past two or three generations it had been and was at that time lying at the bottom of the sea! This fei, it transpired, had been shipwrecked during a storm while in transit from Babelthuap many years ago. Nevertheless it was universally conceded ... that the mere accident of its loss overboard was too trifling to mention, and that a few hundred feet of water off shore ought not to affect its marketable value ... The purchasing power of that stone remains, therefore, as valid as if it were leaning visibly against the side of the owner's house, and represents wealth as potentially as the hoarded inactive gold of a miser in the Middle Ages, or as our silver dollars stacked in the Treasury in Washington, which we never see or touch, but trade with on the strength of a printed certificate that they are there."

"When it was published in 1910, it seemed unlikely that Furness' eccentric travelogue would ever reach the notice of the economics profession. But eventually a copy happened to find its way to the editors of the Royal Economic Society's Economic Journal, who assigned the book to a young Cambridge economist, recently seconded to the British Treasury on war duty: a certain John Maynard Keynes. Furness' book, he wrote, 'has brought us into contact with a people whose ideas on currency are probably more truly philosophical than those of any other country. Modern practice in regard to gold reserves has a good deal to learn from the more logical practices of the island of Yap."

Schadenfreude, or, pleasure caused by the misfortunes of others.

When other people suffer misfortunes, we feel sorry for them. Or do we?

More than we probably want to admit, we sometimes are secretly pleased. Does a Red Sox fan feel happy to see a Yankee fan miserable over a humiliating loss? Would a Democrat ever tire of watching replays of Mitt Romney's Etch A Sketch moments? Do you find yourself consuming the tabloid news, riveted by coverage of disasters in the gossip columns?

The German language has a word for this feeling, schadenfreude, or, pleasure caused by the misfortunes of others.

Most people feel uneasy taking pleasure in the misfortunes of others. Our parents gave us stern, shaming looks if we laughed when others got into trouble. Maybe this is one reason why there is no word for schadenfreude in some languages, such as English. Just because we don't have a label for it in English doesn't mean the feeling doesn't exist. It's very real, and you must have experienced it at some point in your life, or know someone who has.

So, why do we feel schadenfreude?

As Gore Vidal said : "It is not enough to succeed; others must fail." The emotion of pleasure-in-others'-misfortune (Schadenfreude in German) is generally regarded as morally evil. It is often considered to be less acceptable than envy, which is regarded as a deadly sin. It would appear to be morally more perverse to be pleased with another person's misfortune than to be displeased with another person's good fortune.

Indeed Arthur Schopenhauer argues that to feel envy is human, but to enjoy other people's misfortune is diabolical. For Schopenhauer, pleasure-in-others'-misfortune is the worst trait in human nature since it is closely related to cruelty.

A major reason for being pleased with the misfortune of another person is that this person's misfortune may somehow benefit us; it may, for example, emphasize our superiority. However, it is not sufficient to characterize pleasure-in-others'-misfortune as including our pleasure and the other's misfortune. There are three additional typical characteristics: (a) the other person is perceived to deserve the misfortune, (b) the misfortune is relatively minor, and (c) we are passive in generating the other's misfortune.

(a) A central feature of pleasure-in-others'-misfortune is the belief that the other person deserves her misfortune. For example, when stuck in a traffic jam, should a driver pass us on our right by driving on the hard shoulder, our anger will be replaced by pleasure when we see a policeman giving the driver a ticket. The belief that the other person deserves his misfortune expresses our assumption that justice has been done and enables us to be pleased in a situation where we seem required to be sad. Moreover, this belief presents us as moral people w The more deserved the misfortune is, the more justified is the pleasure. Norman Feather shows in a study of people's attitude toward the downfall of those in high positions that the fall was greeted with positive approval when the fall was seen to be deserved, but reactions were negative when the fall was seen to be undeserved.

(b) Another characteristic of pleasure-in-others'-misfortune concerns the minor nature of the misfortune. This characteristic is associated with the comparative concern prevailing in this emotion. Comparison is possible when the two parties are not too far apart, when they are considered to belong to the same comparative framework. Accordingly, pleasure-in-others'-misfortune is concerned with small differences. When the misfortune is severe, pleasure-in-others'-misfortune often turns into pity. For example, should our noisy, inconsiderate and snobbish neighbor find out that his wife is having an affair, we may feel some pleasure; however, if his daughter becomes seriously ill, we are more likely to feel compassion or pity. We can admit that in some circumstances the other's misfortune may be grave, but it is still not significantly graver than that caused by this person to other people-especially ourselves and those related to us. Some may be pleased when a brutal dictator is murdered, as many Romanians were when Ceauşescu was executed, because such a murder seems well-deserved given what Ceauşescu did to his people.

(c) Pleasure-in-others'-misfortune is associated with the passivity of the agent enjoying the situation. An active personal involvement is contrary to the rules of fair competition; it would present us as deliberately harming the other, and hence as not being the real winner in the ongoing competition. It may also be considered an offense; although the other person might deserve misfortune, or even punishment, we lack the authority to impose it. Typically, one of the greater contributions to the pleasure we take in others' misfortune is the feeling that the failure of our competitor is not due to our own wicked behavior. It is as if justice has been done in the spirit of the Talmudic saying: "The tasks of the righteous get done by others." This is a kind of unsolicited gift.

When we consider pleasure-in-others'-misfortune as pertaining to minor misfortunes and involving our belief that justice has been done and that we are not responsible for eliciting the misfortune, then this emotion is not so reprehensible from a moral point of view. The conventional view, which severely condemns pleasure-in-others'-misfortune, stems from considering cruelty and sadism as prototypical cases of this emotion. We have seen that this view is mistaken.

One reason comes down to the simple fact that we often gain from other people's misfortunes. Much of life involves competition. Napoleon advised, "Never interrupt an enemy when he is making a mistake." Misfortunes happening to rivals can level the competition. Any sympathy we might feel is mixed with the pleasing effects of the benefit that may come our way. Self-interest is a powerful motive, and it is only natural to feel good if we are gaining from an event, even if it is from another person's misfortune.

Schadendreude is a natural feeling, and there is little use in berating ourselves over its easy arousal. But let's not encourage it, either. Apparently, those who experience schadenfreude may also express willingness to harm a rival fan or group. So let's keep schadenfreude in check.

 H. Smith is professor of psychology at the University of Kentucky and author of "The Joy of Pain: Schadenfreude and the Dark Side of Human Nature (Oxford University Press).

Wisdom in 140 letters

Ever wondered just how much insight and wisdom you can cram into 140 characters. Turns out, it worked great for Jesus, Descartes, Shakespeare, Emily Dickinson, Martin Luther King Jr., Fran Lebowitz, and Donald Rumsfeld. Here is a selection of this wisdom:

• I think, therefore I am. (24)
• It’s funny because it’s true. (29)
• I am large; I contain multitudes. (33)
• Neither a borrower nor a lender be. (35)
• Eighty percent of success is showing up. (40)
• Let he who is without sin cast the first stone. (47)
• The vice-presidency isn’t worth a pitcher of warm piss. (55)
• Parting is all we know of heaven, and all we need of hell. (58)
• It’s not the size of the ship; it’s the motion of the ocean. (60)
• Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. (68)
• Government is not the solution to our problem; government is the problem. (73)
• The opposite of talking isn’t listening. The opposite of talking is waiting. (76)
• Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country. (79)
• What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. (83)
• I look to a day when people will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character. (113)
• It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God. (112)
• It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. (117)
• There is not a Black America and a White America and Latino America and Asian America; there’s the United States of America. (124)
• There are known unknowns. That is to say, there are things that we know we don’t know. But there are also unknown unknowns. (123)
• You can fool all the people some of the time, and some of the people all the time, but you can’t fool all the people all the time. (130)

Gandhijis ten rules for changing the world

1. Change yourself.

“You must be the change you want to see in the world...As human beings, our greatness lies not so much in being able to remake the world – that is the myth of the atomic age – as in being able to remake ourselves.”

2. You are in control.

“Nobody can hurt me without my permission.”

3. Forgive and let it go.

“The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong...An eye for eye only ends up making the whole world blind.”

4. Without action you aren’t going anywhere.

“An ounce of practice is worth more than tons of preaching.”

5. Take care of this moment.

“I do not want to foresee the future. I am concerned with taking care of the present. God has given me no control over the moment following.”

6. Everyone is human.

“I claim to be a simple individual liable to err like any other fellow mortal. I own, however, that I have humility enough to confess my errors and to retrace my steps...It is unwise to be too sure of one’s own wisdom. It is healthy to be reminded that the strongest might weaken and the wisest might err.”

7. Persist.

“First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win.”

8. See the good in people and help them.

“I look only to the good qualities of men. Not being faultless myself, I won’t presume to probe into the faults of others...Man becomes great exactly in the degree in which he works for the welfare of his fellow-men...I suppose leadership at one time meant muscles; but today it means getting along with people.”

9. Be congruent, be authentic, be your true self.

“Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony...Always aim at complete harmony of thought and word and deed. Always aim at purifying your thoughts and everything will be well.”

10. Continue to grow and evolve.

”Constant development is the law of life, and a man who always tries to maintain his dogmas in order to appear consistent drives himself into a false position...You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty...The difference between what we do and what we are capable of doing would suffice to solve most of the world’s problem.”

The great Goat Gorgefest

Here is another whimsical story in line with the tax drummers of Bangalore..

" The herd of 25 goats rumbled into the Congressional Cemetery in Southeast Washington, passing tombstones engraved with words such as the "Honorable" and "Edgar Hoover". They had been taken there for a mission. Over the next week, the mission of these goats was to eat more than an acres worth of poison ivy and English ivy, which are imperiling the historic cemetery's trees and endangering the gravestones.

The 206 year old cemetery is owned by Christ Church of Washington and has about 60,000 people buried there with about 1000 spaces left. Aside from Hoover, the cemetery's other major celebrity is John Philip Sousa, the American composer famed for his patriotic marches. Dozens of of members of congress, 10 Washington mayors and numerous Indian chiefs are buried on the grounds. Now the cemetery conducts two burials a month, brisk business compared to five years ago.

The operators of the cemetery figure that these goats are a cheaper and less toxic way of cleaning up the 35 acre property. As these goats strode into the woods, biting their way through morning glory, honeysuckle, poison ivy and other vines, they solved an expensive problem. The more the ivy smothers the trees, the heavier a tree gets and the more susceptible they are to crashing down damaging gravestones. The ivy's leaves also can interfere with the trees photosynthesis killing them. After all the herd of 25,  which grows  to 55 only costs $ 4000 per week.

And how effective are these goats? The spokesman pointed out that "although his goats won't eat some of the areas vegetation, they should clear enough leaves and stems off trees from seven feet high down to the ground. They've got very very nimble lips and tongues."

Institutions to remember

Few of us revisit institutions- academic or others- once we have graduated from them or left them for greener pastures. Most of us visit our old institutions of learning rather infrequently-- once to receive some award they may have deemed to give you and other times when you take your children and grandchildren to show them the corridors of education that shaped you. Other institutions, where you may have worked for some time, are not also usually on the beaten path. They tend to forget you as soon as you have left them.

So it was a particular pleasure when I was invited to visit Engineers India Limited (EIL) -- an organization I had left in 1979 after almost ten years. It was the first and the largest consulting company in Asia at that time and I had had some modest role in its development. So, if nothing else, it was good to be remembered.

I had just completed my book on "Pioneers of offshore technology in India" where EIL had played such a key role and the history of those days was still fresh in my mind. After the obligatory introductions by the chairman of the company, the assembled fifty or so managers and directors were keen to learn about the birth of offshore technology and how it had grown to be such an important part of the company in such a short period of time. 

The fact was that starting from scratch in 1970, India had put together a committed group of young professionals, working with the best expertise the international industry to achieve its long-term objective - mastering offshore technology. By 1985- in just fifteen years, India had over 50 offshore platform off the coast of Bombay. It had discovered its largest oil and gas fields offshore and able to develop them within a short space of a decade. It had designed and built not only offshore well platforms, but also the most complicated and complex of process platforms that were able to separate oil and gas offshore and to transmit them to the shore. It had built a large number of major and minor submarine pipelines. It had developed an indigenous capability to design all offshore installations, which by 1985 was responsible for almost 80% of all offshore work. India had been able to convert three shipyards to build the latest offshore platforms and pipelines. It had over 20 offshore drilling rigs operating offshore, many of them owned and operated by Indians. These structures, most designed, fabricated and constructed indigenously enabled oil and gas production of over half a million barrels of oil and by the mid eighties and set the country towards self sufficiency. So it was a story worth telling...

I recounted the four turning points in the development of the offshore technology in EIL. The first one was how EIL started its journey into the offshore industry. In 1970, having just returned from the US with a doctorate in design of offshore systems, I was keen to engage in the creation of the industry in India. But I was met with cynicism and hostility. The chairman of ONGC advised me that “We are a nation of beggars and we shall remain a nation of beggars. We will never be able to do anything so complicated ourselves. Don’t waste your life here. Go back to America.” These words hurt to the  quick and young as I was - I was but 32 years- I was determined to prove the cynical chairman wrong and build India's offshore industry from scratch. And I did, but it took me ten years.

Our first breakthrough came when Indian Oil Corporation decided to build an offshore oil terminal at Salaya, on the west coast of India. This would be the first major offshore installation in the country for the import of oil, and I was determined that OED should participate in its design and installation. In a meeting in the Planning Commission, its managing director, C.R Dasgupta, proposed building the Single Buoy Mooring (SBM) terminal. I raised an objection stating that other alternatives – and I reeled out at least six other kinds of terminals --needed to be considered as well as plans made for appropriate transfer of technology to India before a decision could be made. Over Dasgupta’s objections, the planning minister entrusted EIL with evaluating the various options prior to a decision being made. From that concept report grew the idea that EIL should act as the consultants to IOC and other oil companies in the selection, design, fabrication and installation of offshore systems, and thereby also ensure that the closely held technology in this area could be transferred to India. This was our first major offshore job and its success presaged a bright future for the team that I was building. But not all worked out well and even in the first year we encountered a failure that almost wiped out the team.

The "Sagar Samrat" incident could have easily sunk the EIL's fledgeling program before it had even fully taken off. The ONGC offshore jack up unit, Sagar Samrat, which was delivered in 1973, was to jack up at a location in offshore Bombay. To determine whether it was safe to do so, ONGC had appointed a French soil consulting company, TLM, to calculate the penetration that Sagar Samrat would have in the seabed. EIL had subcontracted with TLM to assist them in this project and to learn in the process. This was one of our first assignments with ONGC. TLM was using a measuring tool of their own-patented design and after field tests, had certified that the spot chosen by ONGC was safe. But when Sagar Samrat started lowering its legs at that location, the penetration was considerably greater than what was predicted. ONGC staff, who had never really liked the idea of EIL meddling in their affairs, let out a howl saying, “We told you so, that EIL does not have the competence in offshore area and should be kept out.” I argued that the work was done by TLM and EIL was only their subcontractor and if ONGC had any beef regarding technical competence, it should be with TLM and not EIL. Fortunately, Sagar Samrat had been moved a few thousand meters away and jacked up successfully by then and the furor died down. And when a few months later, the first exploration well turned out to be a discovery, perhaps the shift in location was a heaven sent gift, for this well led to the beginning of the Bombay High discovery and to the development of the OED team in EIL.

Over the next few years we continued to make progress in developing our capabilities in the offshore area in EIL. But the fact was that our team had little practical experience in actually designing new offshore installations required us to develop a new strategy. It was then that I came face to face with another facet of working in a developing country – no domestic company and certainly not the government owned public sector companies wanted to hire domestic consulting companies.

“Look,” one of the chief executives of an Indian public sector company explained to me, “I am responsible for quality and cost of all major investments and design, and engineering costs are generally less than 10% of the investment. By hiring your company, I may save perhaps 1%, which while large is really insignificant in terms of the total projected investment. But if anything should go wrong – a design mistake, an equipment failure due to your inexperience - the cost to my company would be huge. And worse, the same self reliance crowd today urging me to develop domestic capability will be braying for my blood! If I were, however, to hire the best international consultancy company, I would pay a higher fee but if anything went wrong, at least I would not be pilloried and investigated by the parliament. So, quite frankly, there is really no incentive for me in the present system to promote domestic design or engineering competence.”

Recognizing these limitations, we formulated a different strategy- we would buy this experience and expertise by associating with an international consulting company in the initial stages and gradually take over the entire design effort over time. With a staff of 130, we became involved in designing three to six platforms per year, accounting for a turnover of over $7 million and in the short space of ten years,  not only managed to acquire and digest this high technology, it also set up an aggressive R and D program.  

Bombay High North process platform was the key component of the offshore system and we were keen to be awarded the contract for designing it. With the help of the chairman of ONGC, we were finally given this assignment if we could find an international consultant to review our designs and provide us technical assistance. We soon ran into problems as the staff of ONGC, hostile from the beginning and with knowledge only of the onshore oil industry started making demands on the specifications of design. The chairman finally put his foot down and we were instructed to provide an international level process platform rather than an onshore hybrid. This led to a development that all installations were to be of international standards in the future- a decision that has served the country well. 

By the end of the decade, we had become the chief designer of all offshore installations in the country. 

Now came the question and answer session:

"What was the most important decision you made in the creation of the capability?" asked one

" To put together a team of the best Indians in the world"

"How did you deal with difficult clients?"

'By understanding the pressures they were under and formulating strategies that answered their concerns"

" How did you use international consultants?"

" We developed a long term strategy of working with international consultants where our process of learning was gradual and where we only replaced them when our team was fully ready."

"They say that Indian institutions are incapable of successfully managing complex technology. What is your view?"

" It was Ezra Vogel who said"I wanted to understand the success of the Japanese in dealing with practical questions. My first inclination was to examine how such Japanese virtues like hard work, patience, self discipline, culture etc contributed to their success. But the more I examined the Japanese approach to modern organization, the business community and the bureaucracy, the more I became convinced that Japanese success had little to do with traditional character traits than with specific organizational structure, policy program and conscious planning, that successful management organizations and style are not the result of some cultural pattern or historical inevitability but are the result of good corporate  planning, proper management structure and the most effective leadership."

The tax man drummeth

I saw this little piece by Arun Bhatia and was struck by its innovativeness in the most complex of areas- collecting taxes!

" Swaying in the heat of downtown Bangalore, a young man named Manu gives his fellow percussionists a look. And, as surely as if he'd hollered "faster", the tempo rises. Hunched outside a local builders posh mansion, Manu, Anil,Gopal and John bang their tamate drums more and more feverishly, aiming for that moment when their audience can take no more.

This is not an act; it is meant to be a nuisance. The drummers are paid by the Bangalore city council to perform outside the residences and businesses of tax evaders. They come with banners bearing their targets name and the amount owed, and aim to embarass and annoy deadbeats into submission.

"This is much cheaper and faster than prolonged litigation and the courts", explains a clerk in the city office. "Quite often, the defaulters cough up at least part of the money owed!"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=600UtH9Qj5g

An incident in Delhi

Caught in delhi traffic, I had always wondered how emergency vehicles and ambulances ever made it to their destination. I was soon to find out first hand.

On Monday,the day I was to leave Delhi for the US, I had what the doctors politely called an "episode". It was four in the morning when I woke up suddenly, finding myself sweating profusely and generally very restless. So much so that the entire family gathered around with deep concern in their eyes. I had once had had such an episode a few years ago but then with the sheer drop in blood sugar had been sudden, that I had gone into a brief coma and remembered nothing of the furor it had caused. All I remembered when I came to was that I was lying on the ground beside my bed with three young interns watching me anxiuosly as the glucose coursed down my blood stream. Shibani was there along with her mother anxiously watching the proceedings. I was taken to the emergency room of a local hospital and was discharged within a few hours.

The tale in Delhi was a trifle different. There was one doctor who seemed to know what the problem was when he arrived. Also I was fully conscious though a little groggy, demanding "wheres my orange juice". The last time I remembered our house had only sugarless things- from pea nut butter to jam. So the demand for orange juice was well placed as my sister Rekha noted.

The immediate crisis over,the doctor insisted that I had to go the hospital for a more thorough checkup. So off we went in an indian ambulance- which was somewhat similar to the Chinese one I had used some eight years ago in Beijing. It was sparsely fitted and barely had enough room for the doctor, his intern and my wife. But more troubling was the fact that it could not find a quick way to the hospital. The ambulances, even with their flashing lights and blaring sirens could only crawl to the hospital. Indeed people casually walked by our ambulance-- yes it was that slow--peering in to see who it was who was in the bed. Another interesting thing was that there was no general 911 number like in the US, we could select the hospital whose emergency room we wanted to go to. So we had chosen Max clinic because it was the closest to where we were and also because it was the hospital I had been airlifted to from Beijing some eight years ago. It was lucky for us that we did because emergency rooms in Delhi are scarce and the early bird apparently gets the bed while others wait....

At the hospital, the interns were swift and efficient and I was soon made comfortable. Then began a long process of consultations among the gathered doctors. I remember reading a book " How doctors think" which said that most doctors diagnose the problem in the first few minutes and spend rest of the time finding corroborative evidence for that that diagnosis through a number of tests.

There was soon a parade of specialists who trooped in beside my bed. Each one looked at the medical records , examined me briefly and went on to write their diagnosis. As part of this protocol, one of them recommended an endoscopy. Now endoscopy is a nonsurgical procedure used to examine a person's digestive tract. Using an endoscope, a flexible tube with a light and camera attached to it, your doctor can view pictures of your digestive tract on a color TV monitor.During an upper endoscopy, an endoscope is easily passed through the mouth and throat and into the esophagus allowing the doctor to view the esophagus, stomach, and upper part of the small intestine. But it could often lead to complications and there seemed to be no particular symptom  justifying such a procedure. So to their consternation, I declined.

Of course this created a crisis of sorts when it became time to discharge me. Someone had to reconcile the conflicting diagnosis. As I became a trifle impatient at their request for more and more tests, I heard the word "lama" from one of the junior doctors. Lama I thought what had a lama to do with my condition. But actually that turned out to be the magic word. It meant " leaving against medical advice" thus absolving the hospital of any responsibility. 

I signed the lama and returned home. I am now back in my apartment in the US. But it was an experience indeed. And I learnt a great lesson that day which had nothing to do with hospitals, emergency rooms or doctors. I learnt that greater gift hath no man than one who has a loving family and friends. Cherish them dearly!