Another Reason to Love the 4th of July, or the 3rd

The small town parade. The thing I love the most about a small town parade is the improvisational aspect to it. Unlike the big money extravaganzas in major cities there is some room for surprise and low budget ingenuity. The Montpelier 3rd of July parade is full of both.

(Side note - yes, the 3rd. I believe that the main reason some towns celebrate a day early is because the fireworks companies are overbooked on the 4th and offer a discount. It's actually 50% more historically accurate, since the Declaration of Independence was ratified on the 2nd. John Adams thought that the 2nd should become our national holiday. )

The parade lines up in a network of low-traffic residential streets in a section of Montpelier called The Meadows. Under the direction of volunteer marshals the various pieces are threaded together and march off towards the center of town. The Librarian and I were watching the parade start up when the best float ever rolled by. Click on the photo below for an enlargement.

What do we have here? Something that looks like a large copy of the Declaration on the back. A pole wrapped in spangly Christmas boa decoration holding four flags up front. A guy in a George Washington costume. So far, so...wait, is that an Imperial Storm Trooper from Star Wars?

It is. With a ray gun.

Apparently he's about to pop a cap on that miniature deer near the flags. It also looks as if George and the Trooper have a campfire all ready to cook up some venison while they discuss inalienable rights, consent of the governed, and the chickenshit bureaucracy that is the despair of all front line soldiers.

But really, what is an Inperial Storm Trooper doing on a float with Washington, the Declaration, and a stunted deer? Is it some kind of revolutionaries vs. empire, endless struggle of mankind sort of symbolism? Or am I overthinking this? I'm trying to imagine the thought processes of the people planning the float.

"It's looking a little sparse, y'know?"

"Well, we added the deer."

"Yeah, it looks kinda woodsy, with the campfire, maybe a little Valley Forge thing going there."

"We need another guy in uniform up there. Who has a Revolutionary War outfit?"

(Silence)

"Civil War?"

(Silence)

"French and Indian War? War of 1812? Spanish American War? World Wars? King Philip's War?"

(Pause)

(From the back) "Um, how about Star Wars?"

And so it came to be. Best float ever.

The course of human events

It being the fourth of July, I am musing on our founding document, The Declaration of Independence. One of the many things about it that interests me is the change in its significance between the time of its drafting and the end of the 18^th century.

It was a legal sledgehammer when it was first ratified. It was a declaration in three different ways.

First, it was a declaration of basic human rights and that a government derived its legitimacy from honoring and actively serving those rights. It also based that legitimacy on the consent of the governed. These were novel concepts for a political document at that time.

Second, it was a declaration of the many violations of these principles by the existing government.

(Some of the points made were perfectly valid and some were hyperbole. In particular, there is a reference to the so-called “Boston Massacre”: “For protecting them [Note: British troops], by a mock Trial, from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States” The event in question involved seven British soldiers facing down a rock throwing mob estimated in the hundreds. John Adams himself successfully defended the soldiers in front of a jury.)

Third, it completed the syllogism and declared that the acts laid out in the middle of the document violated the principles of the first section, thus delegitimizing British rule and necessitating the separation. It was brief, logical, and earth shattering.

It became legally irrelevant almost immediately. The Continental Congress drafted articles of confederation, defining the relationship of the colonies to one another and to the world, as well as a method of governance. The United States fought the revolution and defined itself by force of arms as well as force of rhetoric. The Declaration of Independence, having served its purpose, became an historical document, an inspiration rather than a legal force. The drafting of the Constitution put the Declaration behind glass, so to speak. The success of the Declaration put it into the archives.

It is also interesting to look at the nature of the complaints listed in the Declaration. Much is made of the subject of taxation as a source of revolutionary discontent, but that was only one of twenty-six points. Ten of the complaints concern the ability of the colonists to have functioning legislatures and to pass necessary laws. Four concern judicial matters, including judicial independence and trial by jury. Four complain about the imposition of military presence and dominance.

It is intriguing to note, in light of recent battles over immigration policy, that the Founding Fathers were upset at the British government for “obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither”. They wanted to make it easier for people to immigrate.

On a somber note, these two points:

“For depriving us in many cases, of the benefits of Trial by Jury:
For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences”

Guantanamo, indefinite detention, drone strikes, and rendition come to mind.

The final complaint refers to “the merciless Indian Savages, whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.” Our extensive and careless use of aerial bombing over the past few decades makes the Iroquois look like amateurs in the slaughter of innocents. When unintended consequences become common and predictable they become part of our intent, and therefore part of our moral responsibility. The redefinition of “militant” as “any man unlucky enough to be near an exploding drone-fired missile” is a transparent coat of whitewash over the “undistinguished destruction” our founders deplored.

So, there is unfinished business on this Fourth of July. Or, as one of the signers of the Declaration, Benjamin Rush put it, “The American war is over; but this far from being the case with the American revolution. On the contrary, nothing but the first act of the drama is closed.”

The Real World

I realize I’ve been away from the blog for almost a month now. It has been a busy month, but mostly a good one. Your Minor Heretic has projects on top of projects. That aside, I rely on inspiration for my blogging. It shows up or it doesn’t, and I am resisting the lazy practice of posting pieces that say little more than “Hey, look at this!”

I was at the local farmer’s market on Saturday morning. It was a sunny, flawless morning, and the crowds were out. A local folk duo played and sang. A high school kid I know performed juggling and acrobatics to raise money for a circus school scholarship. I bought greens, artisanal cheese, locally baked bread, and a maple glazed cinnamon bun for The Librarian’s lunch.  Bliss.

Part of the market experience is meeting half a dozen friends and having a series of conversations. I met up with an old friend who is a dedicated peace activist and we exchanged greetings. I said something about the glorious day, and then something about how this market, the local meeting place, is what the good life is all about. He agreed, and then made an important point: Part of a living, vibrant community is coming in contact with people you wouldn’t ordinarily, voluntarily associate with. It means dealing with people who annoy you, who disagree with you, and who might find you slightly off-putting in the same way.

He was right. Mixing with everyone, not just your in-group, is important for full personal development and for functional civic life. That’s one thing that Vermont has going for it. Most of us live in small towns. Anonymity is not an option. Clustering with absolutely like-minded people is theoretically possible, but the rest of the population keeps leaking in around the edges. Our geography and small population push us up against each other, but unlike a big city, we are going to see these people again and again. We have to deal with our differences in a civil way.

The same goes double for town meeting. Any moderately sentient resident can stand up and speak. And we do. Unlike the so-called town meetings arbitrarily staged by politicians, we actually have to make some decisions together by meeting’s end. And, unlike those who attend the theatrical forums for posturing and bile, we have to see each other and interact in the days and months after the budget is passed and the church supper is but memory.

I’m a member of our neighborhood online forum. It is restricted to residents of our town, and mostly concerns itself with goods needed and offered, comments on road conditions, wildlife sightings, lost pets, and local events. It is nothing earth shattering in itself, but the key to its virtue is that it engenders a thousand small, face-to-face interactions between people who might otherwise not meet. When I say meet, I mean a real personal meeting, not a nod on the street or a public exchange over a school bond issue. Each meeting is a chance to see another human being as an individual, not an archetype. It humanizes us to each other. It is those endless mundane contacts that provide the glue of a civil society.

My conversation at the market reminded me of a passage from a speech given by the headmaster at The Mountain School, Mac Conard. (I was a student there back in the late 70s) The Mountain School was small, just a few dozen students, isolated on a hilltop farm in Vershire Vermont. We raised a lot of our own food and did most of the physical work around the place. I’ll have to paraphrase what Mac said, but he remarked on the expression, “the real world.” People said to him, “This farm on a hill in the woods is all very nice, but what about teaching these kids about the real world?” Mac responded that this was the real world. Forests and fields, wild and domesticated animals, gardens, chores, and getting along with people you can’t escape – these are the elements of the real world. Cities, high technology, easy mobility and anonymity are common in this country, but these things are also artificial. Ubiquity doesn’t make them any less contrived.

I am concerned with structure. As Herodotus wrote, “Circumstances rule men; men do not rule circumstances.” It is the structure of our social institutions, our architecture, our urban design and our daily lives that pushes us this way and that. Anonymity and isolation are seeds of inhumanity. It is important to build into our society the structures that bring us together, face to face, over and over, even when we annoy each other. It is that repetition, those thousands of unremarkable little interactions that convince us of each other’s humanity. Knowing each other allows us to disagree without contempt. Knowing that we will meet again allows us to lose the argument, this time, with some amount of grace.

So here’s to farmer’s markets and concerts on the green. Here’s to the dog walkers in the park and the people taking their own sweet time about their errands downtown. Here’s to town meeting and this meeting and that meeting and that guy I always disagree with. Here’s to benches and porches and parks. Here’s to wide sidewalks and narrow diners. Here’s to potlucks and work parties and the people down the road having a lawn sale. It all adds up to the real world.

Update on Sunday, August 19, 2012 at 10:23PM by Minor Heretic

A big welcome to the people of Venezuela. For some reason this post has been getting a large surge of hits from your country, plus some from Sweden, France, Germany, China, and a dozen other places around the planet. Anybody care to enlighten me as to the why and how of the international popularity of this post? If you have an idea, please respond with a comment. Just curious. Thanks

M.H.

For the want of a nail

For want of a nail the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe the horse was lost.
For want of a horse the rider was lost.
For want of a rider the message was lost.
For want of a message the battle was lost.
For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.

Proverb, Author Unknown

I’d like to direct your attention to the most important place on earth. It’s not Washington, DC, or Moscow, or Beijing. It’s not Tehran or Damascus or Bagdhad. It’s not even an entire city, but our fates hang on it.

The most important place in the world is a large concrete box about 100 feet above ground level located next to the #4 reactor in Fukushima, Japan. It contains, for the moment, water and hundreds of zirconium clad nuclear fuel rods. The #4 spent fuel pool was damaged by the earthquake and aftershocks of March 11^th last year, and by a hydrogen gas explosion. It is in rough shape. Workers have temporarily reinforced it with steel beams, but all of the observers I have read doubt that the structure would survive another moderate earthquake.

Unfortunately, the earthquake that precipitated this situation has weakened the fault line along the east coast of Japan in the Fukushima area. European seismologists have concluded that the major after shock known as the Iwaki event (magnitude 7) was caused by this weakening. It is virtually certain that another earthquake of this magnitude will occur in the next two or three years.

 What then? The #4 pool will crack open and lose its cooling water, perhaps even spilling fuel rods to the ground. The rods will overheat almost immediately and the zirconium cladding will start them burning like radioactive road flares. That in itself will be a major release, spreading radioactive iodine, cesium, strontium, and uranium in the resulting aerosol. The secondary effect will be the evacuation of the Fukushima site, rendering all work on the other five reactors impossible. Even robots can’t survive such high levels of radiation. These already compromised units will lose their jury rigged cooling schemes, resulting in cascading exposures and fires across the entire site. After 30 days or so the common spent fuel pool next to reactor #4 will lose enough water to expose its rods to the air, with the attendant road flare effect.

From an article in Japan Forum:

“Based on U.S. Energy Department data, I assume a total of 11,138 spent fuel assemblies are being stored at the Daiichi site, nearly all of which is in pools. They contain roughly 336 million curies (~1.2 E+19 Bq) of long-lived radioactivity. About 134 million curies is Cesium-137 - roughly 85 times the amount of Cs-137 released at the Chernobyl accident as estimated by the U.S. National Council on Radiation Protection (NCRP). The total spent reactor fuel inventory at the Fukushima-Daiichi site contains nearly half of the total amount of Cs-137 estimated by the NCRP to have been released by all atmospheric nuclear weapons testing, Chernobyl, and world-wide reprocessing plants (~270 million curies or ~9.9 E+18 Becquerel).”

Consider that for a minute. Eighty-five Chernobyls. Half the world’s cumulative exposure to Cesium-137 over the past 65 years, except that it is released in a month.

What happens to Japan depends upon the wind at the time of the release. Japan was lucky in its misfortune last year as the wind was from the west, blowing most of the radioactivity out over the Pacific. Winter winds from the northwest would drive the plume right into Tokyo. Southern summer winds would drive the plume up the island and over Hokkaido. In any event it would cut off the northern half of Japan from the south with a radioactive no-go zone. Where the cloud goes in the world depends on the nature of the release (steam vs. fire vs. explosion) and the vagaries of seasonal winds.

The problem for the Japanese authorities is that the crane for removing the fuel rods from the #4 pool was destroyed. In fact, the hardware is mostly in the pool, lying on top of the fuel rods. Removal of the rods isn’t scheduled to start until the end of 2013, and it is predicted to take a decade. In the meantime we are relying on the magnanimity of the Pacific tectonic plate. In other words, pure luck.

A few grim questions occur to me.

Evacuate Tokyo? How? To where?

How could Japan function as a nation and an economy after being irradiated and cut in half?

What would the world economy look like if Japan becomes a failed state?

When the ultra-hot radioactive gases from the fire plume up into the jet stream, what happens to Hawaii and the west coast of the U.S.? Or, depending on the wind and altitude, what happens to eastern China and the Korean peninsula? It would all have to fall out somewhere.

There are a number of voices around the world calling for an international effort to stabilize Fukushima. The Japanese government is downplaying the risks and resisting outside interference. Apparently even the Yakuza (Japanese mafia) is making money providing people (with Yakuza debts) to work in the high radiation zones. The emphasis seems to be more on cost control and political damage control than physical damage control. This can’t continue. An earthquake could hit Fukushima tomorrow, next week, six months from now, or two years from now. As the situation now stands the consequences would be world altering.

We need to pressure our government to put pressure on Japan on the following fronts:

• To push aside Tokyo Electric Power Co. and their efforts at cost containment
• To accept foreign assistance and expertise
• To design and deploy emergency containment measures now, in advance of any seismic event

This would be in parallel with:

• A first priority effort to seismically stabilize the Fukushima site
• Acceleration the transfer of radioactive material to dry cask storage

Write or call your senators and representatives:

https://writerep.house.gov/writerep/welcome.shtml

http://www.senate.gov/general/contact_information/senators_cfm.cfm

SMETFO 2 – GSA vs. FCS

Perhaps by now you have heard about the lavish conference put on by the General Services Administration back in 2010. The GSA lived large in Las Vegas with hired entertainment, gourmet food, commemorative coins, and hotel selection junkets. The final price tag was $823,000.

Jeffery Neely, the official responsible for this debauch, was hauled in front of the House Oversight and Government Reform Committee and pleaded the Fifth. Various members of the House, from both parties, took the opportunity to express their shock, disgust, and indignation.

Everybody in Congress is piling on at this point, especially Republicans, who must be secretly rejoicing at this election year gift.

From the Washington Post: Sen. Joseph I. Lieberman (I-Conn.) called the episode “a stupid and infuriating waste of taxpayer dollars.” House Oversight and Government Reform Committee Chairman Darrell Issa (R-Calif.) said it reflects the “waste that exists in a bloated federal government.”

Can’t argue with that, really, except that one man’s bloat is another man’s vital project.

I’d like to direct your attention to the Future Combat System. This was a Department of Defense project, cancelled a few years ago, that promised to link military vehicles with a web of real time positioning information, targeting data and communications that would revolutionize warfare. It failed. It failed right out of the starting gate and got more money thrown at it. It couldn’t pass basic tests of functionality. Test results were fudged and more money was budgeted. It kept failing. This went on for years. It was finally scrapped in 2009. The ultimate cost? Roughly $159 billion.

The hardy partiers of the GSA are austere monks compared to the DoD. I did the math.

The GSA would have to throw a lavish Las Vegas conference every weekend for 3,715 years to equal the amount of money flushed down the Future Combat System. Yes, 3,715 years, 52 booze soaked, commemorative coin flipping weekends per year. Imagine that the GSA had existed in the Early Bronze Age (Circa 1700 B.C.E), when wooly mammoths still roamed Wrangell Island. If Neely’s distant predecessor had started out by milking the Shang Dynasty for performing astrologers and birds nest soup, they’d just be hitting $159 billion right now.

I’m willing to bet that at least four out of five members of congress who have sputtered and fumed about the GSA conference also voted regularly to fund and re-fund the Future Combat System. It’s a good bet, because the military contractors who sucked up that $159 billion cleverly spread out the contracting across 41 states. Change that four out of five to 41/50ths.

Oh right, but the Future Combat System was military waste. That’s different. Military spending is special and magic. Members of congress have argued that government spending on infrastructure doesn’t create jobs, and then argued that pointless and wasteful military contracts (located in their states) shouldn’t be cut because they…wait for it…create jobs.

I will wholeheartedly agree that the GSA Western Regions Conference of 2010 was a waste of time and money. However, its cost was a rounding error on the budget of a moderately sized Pentagon procurement contract. Let’s get our outrage priorities straight.