Hidden away in a sunlit mountain valley …

The Wall Street Journal carries a review by Trevor Butterworth of The Enlightened Economy by Joel Mokyr, former editor of the Oxford Encyclopedia of Economic History. This is a book which aims to explain why the industrial revolution happened in Britain before it happened anywhere else. Thoughts on the book itself will follow, perhaps. Right now, I’m more worried about the review:

The reason for Britain’s exceptionalism, Mr. Mokyr says, lies in the increasing hostility to rent-seeking—the use of political power to redistribute rather than create wealth—among the country’s most important intellectuals in the second half of the 18th century. Indeed, a host of liberal ideas, in the classic sense, took hold: the rejection of mercantilism’s closed markets, the weakening of guilds and the expansion of internal free trade, and robust physical and intellectual property rights all put Britain far ahead of France, where violent revolution was needed to disrupt the privileges of the old regime.

This is the first time I’ve seen ‘rent-seeking’ defined as ‘the use of political power to redistribute rather than create wealth’. It’s a bad definition, since we naturally tend to think of ‘political power’ as something wielded by government; this particular definition, then, will lead us to think of ‘rent-seeking’ as primarily an activity of government. Which it ain’t. Things like ‘robust physical and intellectual property rights’ may privilege any suitably placed individual or private company: Sky TV, for example. But let’s take the main point as given: at one time, Britain was comparatively liberal, France was comparatively regressive. And France did indeed experience revolution. Of course, you’d think that revolution might allow France a bit of a catch-up opportunity. Apparently not:

Such political upheaval in Europe, notes Mr. Mokyr, disrupted trade, fostered uncertainty, and may well have created all kinds of knock-on social disincentives for technological and scientific innovation and collaboration with business. Much as we might deplore too many of our brightest students going into law rather than chemistry or engineering, it is not unreasonable to think that many of France’s brightest thinkers were diverted by brute events into political rather than scientific activism (or chastened by poor Lavoisier’s beheading during the Revolution).

Admit it, people, the real thesis here is: heads the Anglos win, tails the Euro-weenies lose. I note also that ‘France’ and ‘Europe’ are treated as synonyms, but hey.

I suppose it’s mostly fairly difficult to untangle the prejudices of the reviewer from the subject, where the subject itself is a representation in writing of someone’s thoughts, but I suspect this particular review gets close to the limiting case: i.e. the case where everything you see is the prejudice of the reviewer. Stock tropes only; nothing substantial or falsifiable to be given away.

Incidentally, I think there’s a way to understand the Murdoch publications paywall: it’s journalism going Galt. They’ll come out as they went in; how else could it be? I think it’s a shame Rand had the first-handers hide themselves away in the Rockies, though; I’m imagining a South American tepui, Conan Doyle Lost World style.

Update: I’ve realised that there is a reading of ‘the use of political power …’ which brings it more into line with how rent-seeking is usually understood. This is the reading in which political power (of government) is held ready for someone outside government to make use of: government as a utility, if you like. Even on this reading, I still think it’s a poor definition. It’s understood that it costs a petitioner something to engage with government – hence there’s an efficiency argument to be made in connection with rent-seeking – but terms like ‘use’ and ‘manipulate’ suggest that policy can be flipped on and off like a light. So, how would I define ‘rent-seeking’, you might ask. Perhaps like this: rent-seeking is the attempt to influence public policy in search of policy privilege.

And a welcome to readers from University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, also.

Extra cooks wanted for hot kitchen

It’s dawning on me that everyone is off on their holidays just at the moment, or is otherwise enjoying the nice summer weather, far from the screen of any computer or mobile device. Which is why it’s so quiet. Anyway, that must mean that I get to play the role of late night radio DJ for afoe, except that instead of lining up a few gentle Isabelle Boulay tracks for the benefit of Norbert Dentressangle truckers, I’ll be putting up a post every couple of days for y’all, mostly on an extremely dry topic of my choosing.

But now, back to the ArcelorMittal Orbit. It was announced today that architects Ushida Findlay have designed a ‘silver coil’ to wrap around Kapoor and Balmond’s Olympic tower of sadness. At first I thought this was a guerrilla publicity move by Ushida Findlay – a bit like the stuff the Smithsons used to do when some major project was announced and they weren’t invited to contribute – and I was quite excited. I like the idea of designers piling onto a failed project in an attempt to effect some positive change, or alternatively perhaps a terminal subversion. But turns out Ushida Findlay are part of the official team. You can see their contribution here (link intermittently paywalled, but there’s also some images here, apparently gotten from the official planning application).

And it has to be said there’s not much new to see. The ‘silver coil’ seems to have been there all along, clashes and bad geometry and all. What’s more, it’s not even very silvery.

Round of Sixteen

Wasn’t there some sort of sporting event going on?

So both the finalists from last time have been sent home in various combinations of sorrow and shame. As one observer noted, “The really weird thing is how attractive I find most of the cultural products of these countries otherwise. Lots of people hate France on principle, [but] the puzzle is how two countries this great produce football teams that are so reprehensible…”

Mind, now that the initial euphoria over Italy’s departure has passed, in the cold light of day we must acknowledge that Holland-Slovakia is not quite as thrilling a prospect as Holland-Italy would have been. But at the end of the day, it’s hard to be sorry.

And, hey, England-Germany.

Consider this an open thread.

Scenes from an internal devaluation

I’ve recently been in Budapest. The city was stinking hot and full of abandoned construction projects, and the Danube was over its banks, flooding the tramway tunnels beneath the approaches of the Chain Bridge, closing the roads on the riverside.

Walking the plank

There were a remarkable number of people sleeping in the streets, although at 35 degrees’ heat, you might have thought they were doing it by choice. Until the incredible assortment of biting insects sailing down the river got to you; I’m still scratching. There weren’t many more than in London or Leeds 15 years ago; in the integrated core of the Euro-Atlantic community, we arrange these things more efficiently. Thatcher never attained a one-year decline of 8% of GDP, which implies that the UK achieved a much greater return of misery per unit of economic recession.

Meta-photo

On Erzsebet tel., there’s an abandoned tube station, brand new, empty. The huge stairwell into the ticket hall has been unofficially taken over and used as a nightclub; it’s invisible from street level. I suppose it’s the Big Society, but this doesn’t work as well for cardiac surgery as it does for hipsterism.

Sudden stop

All over there are monuments to the era of EU enlargement and forex loans; huge, crystalline investment ruins in the city centre, shockingly cheap mall developments in the airport suburbs. I stay in the Kempinski, a postmodernist battleship of Zizek’s Happy 90s decorated to please a German privatisation consultant. It’s the architecture of plunk!, not relieved by the cod-jugendstil detailing on the roofline God knows how far above the street, and it has a giant circular glass atrium that renders everything under it intolerably hot.

It’s just possible to make out the outlines of the hopeful era of revolution and accession; you can just about see it, if you screw your eyes up. Back then, the privatisations and shutdowns were justified with the better times to come. And now? The dead malls are often next door to the equivalent buildings of the Communist attempt at a consumer society. There are a lot of people visibly working the streets.

pirate republic

Iceland is proposing radical new laws that will create a safe haven for investigative journalism and therefore the release of this kind of shocking footage, which exposes a cover-up, as well as the true nature of a war where a superpower deploys its weapons on a third world country, in this instance cutting down, among others, two people working for Reuters. The Icelandic Modern Media Initiative (Immi) will allow organisations likeWikileaks to provide the strongest possible protections for sources and whistleblowers releasing sensitive material that big business and secretive states want to suppress.

 Having flown from Britain last Tuesday where our disreputable Parliament was about to pass the Digital Economy Bill with virtually no scrutiny and certainly no concern for freedom of expression, it was remarkably refreshing to read the following from the official website of the Immi, which, incidentally, is supported by all parties here. "The goal of the Immi proposal is to task the government with finding ways to strengthen freedom of expression around the world and in Iceland… we also feel it is high time to establish the first Icelandic international prize: the Icelandic Freedom of Expression Award." 

To get the cynicism out of the way upfront, one suspects a plan to market the country as a haven for well-heeled geeks. The “Icelandic Freedom of Expression Award” is brochure stuff, like those economic freedom ratings which consist of counting the yachts in the harbour. 

 And why not? There’s a both a corporate and state-level landgrab on data and virtual space going on and so the logical outcome of Iceland’s policy would be to provide a physical safe haven for people who resist or fall foul of it. 

 Henry Porter suggests that the yanks aren’t pleased by all this. I suggest the following response: 

damn ye, you are a sneaking Puppy, and so are all those who will submit to be governed by Laws which rich Men have made for their own Security, for the cowardly Whelps have not the Courage otherwise to defend what they get by their Knavery; but damn ye altogether: Damn them for a Pack of crafty Rascals, and you, who serve them, for a Parcel of hen-hearted Numskuls. They villify us, the Scoundrels do, when there is only this Difference, they rob the Poor under the Cover of Law, forsooth, and we plunder the Rich under the Protection of our own Courage; had you not better make One of us, than sneak after the Arses of those Villains for Employment?"

put the knife down

I was trying for a bit of cheap election snark by comparing what we’ve heard so far from Brown, Cameron and to a lesser extent Clegg to the speech patterns of schizophrenics. It doesn’t really hold up. Schizophrenic speech is free in the most fundamental way, full of random association, stuffed with neologism, repetition and the bizarre juxtapositions generated from crossed synapses and odd biochemical combinations.

I got the wrong end of the stick. Current political speech is more like that adopted by people talking to schizophrenics, and, in particular, trying to get them to co-operate in some way. There’s nothing internal about it. It’s concocted rather than originated. The aim is basically negative: to close down neural pathways and opportunities for mental association and to shepherd the listener down the desired pathway – to a future fair for all, for instance, where we are all in it together. Just get down from the ledge and get into the ambulance…that’s right…one step at a time…this way. Don’t worry. We have plans for you. We are in the future business.

The ArcelorMittal Orbit

The ArcelorMittal Orbit is compared by its sponsors to the Statue of Liberty and the Eiffel Tower, two nineteenth century French constructions. I think a better comparison is with the Atomium, left over from the Brussels World’s Fair of 1958. The Atomium is accessible to visitors, and gives the kind of view of Brussels you’d expect from its peripheral location in Heysel Park, north of the city, with the addition of a hundred metres or so of elevation. Originally, of course, it gave a modestly elevated view of the World’s Fair. Show us what you can see from a hundred metres above a suburban festival park, plus lunch: it’s not a strong brief for a project, but in that something like the ArcelorMittal Orbit or the Atomium can be said to meet a practical purpose at all, this is that purpose. The Statue of Liberty? That gives you a view of the Manhattan skyline from across the water of New York Harbour; not life-changing, perhaps, but notable. The Eiffel Tower? That gives you a view over Paris from the city centre, plus an excellent lunch (if you can afford it). At the time of construction, the Eiffel Tower was the world’s tallest structure (taking the title from the Washington Monument, surprisingly). If – as is not the case with the Orbit – your pointless project can claim a compelling location and at least one superlative, you’re off to a reasonable start.

Beyond function, though, lies the issue of icon-icity. The ArcelorMittal Orbit is supposed to do the cultural job of a Statue of Liberty or an Eiffel Tower; It’s supposed to be a draw, simply in virtue of its design. Here, my tone is snarky, but I actually do think we have something that doesn’t just fall short, we have a wreck. I’m going to try to say why this is, and why it matters.

Many pubic artworks get a beasting, of course. People have come to love Gormley’s Angel of the North after hating it. I don’t think this will happen with the ArcelorMittal Orbit.

First, there’s a problem of resonance. What connections are we supposed to make when we experience the Orbit? The Atomium – my preferred comparator – is defiantly ahistorical. It’s said to represent an iron molecule; if we were to think sufficiently airy thoughts about the Atomium, we might say that it stood as a metonym for its own substance: steel, mostly. Materials science: very 1958. You have to try that bit harder with the ArcelorMittal Orbit. The designers talk vaguely about the idea of structural instability and the Tower of Babel (intending the Breughel painting, I’d guess, but it’s possible that they got in a muddle and were actually thinking of the Monument to the Third International). Now those are odd choices: the confounding of language, the scattering of nations, things falling over; is there a cautionary intent here? Are we celebrating these things? As for what’s unstated, I suppose the creative team would be pleased if spectators were to think of any of the following clever things (in no particular order): Klein bottles, Calabi-Yau manifolds, trombones, flayings. But the ArcelorMittal Orbit also calls to mind the dull precedents of Wembley Stadium (the tubular latticing) and the observatory towers of the New York World’s Fair of 1964 (the round observation deck). I don’t think the designers intended those associations; I think they just stumbled into them.

Worse, the design is conceptually weak. This isn’t an accusation to be tossed around casually, but I have reasons. Early sketches show a continuous, looping line or thin tube of constant thickness. Apparently the team then attempted to force a lift, a stair and a viewing platform / restaurant into that form, distorting it in the process. What’s more, the designers didn’t apply a ‘language’ to these new but essential items; instead, they used ordinary geometry and neutral colours. This suggests a wishing away. Most architects recognise (eventually) that wishing away won’t work and learn to integrate what’s needed within the framework of a concept that’s developed in anticipation.

There’s also compromise in the proposal’s major expressive component: the looping tube(s). In other pieces by Kapoor, tubes appear as you’d expect tubes to appear: as continuous surfaces. In the ArcelorMittal Orbit, though, the tube(s) is realised as an open lattice. This contradicts the design team’s formal choice. Now there are good structural reasons for using a lattice; triangles are very rigid and surfaces offer more wind resistance than open frames. Wind forces on tall structures are significant. One major structural concept selected for the Eiffel Tower aims to optimise for wind overturning; this concept gave the tower its tapering profile. (I say ‘aims to optimise’; it may in fact not be optimal.) But there’s no such alignment of thinking in the Orbit. It looks instead as though a decision was made – cynically – to maximise the use of steel componentry. The project’s sponsor, of course, is Lakshmi Mittal.

Finally, and worst of all, the ArcelorMittal Orbit is literally repulsive; it’s blood red, it looks biological, like intestines. Here, we leave the Atomium far behind: the Atomium doesn’t disgust. I don’t want to speculate on human psychology but it’s conceivable that disgust responses are ‘hardwired’, as they say. If this is so, then even if the current cohort learns to love the ArcelorMittal Orbit, having mastered its own shock reaction, there’ll be future generations who’ll be disposed to hate it.

Some say they enjoy being shocked. Some film directors know this. In his War of the Worlds remake, Spielberg has his aliens keep humans in steel cages slung beneath the rear of their tripods; when the aliens get peckish, a round hatch like a camera iris gapes open (cue horrible screaming) and a large hollow blood red tentacle comes out and has a good feel around for a flailing limb. Once it limpets on, it sucks the victim into the tripod interior. You see this and you think: OK, Mr Spielberg, you got us, that’s truly disgusting. You are the master here. Anyway, the point is that the ArcelorMittal Orbit reminds me of that scene. You too, most likely. So visitors to the 2012 London Olympics are going to get to enjoy something that resonates with gore. You might wonder if that’s what they will have been wanting.

Any public benefit / disbenefit point is of course arguable. Like most, I think we’re better off with a permissive approach to public art; one that steers well clear of entartete kunst thinking. But we’re not talking about your run of the mill art project. To the extent that the ArcelorMittal Orbit is supposed to represent Britain – not that Britain asked to be represented in this way – it looks to me like a bad mistake to pull out something like this. Obvious interest-promotion; a failed attempt at cleverness; laziness; provocative sourness, even. Probably not what you want in an official culture, if you’re going to have one at all.