On y Va, Astérix?

Les Irréductibles Gaulois

Today on the way to work, another "I'll be damned" moment, courtesy of Direct Matin (the free mini-newspaper available in the trains in Paris.)  As I stated before here, Direct Matin has an item each morning wherein some bit of arcanum is explained - the origins of the croissant, the history of the galettes des rois, why the icons of saints have auréoles over their heads.

In the news today was the question as to why the image of France - in sport, for example; the football, rugby, basketball, and other team jerseys - is a rooster (le coq).  If one visists the Palais de l'Eysée (the home of the president of France), the main, ornamented gate has a gold rooster above it.

Given the recent behaviour of President François Hollande, turns out that the choice may be appropriate.

According to the article, the rooster arose as a sort of insult from the Romans when they arrived in present-day France.  Apparently, they found the French to be braggards and noisy ("frimeurs et bruyants"), whilst at the same time weak in comparison with the Roman Empire.  Playing on the fact that the the local tribe of Gallic Celts had as a name the homonym "gallus" (in Latin, a sort of chicken), the Romans mocked the French people as puffed-up, noisome, but ultimately weak people.

Charles de Gaulle indeed...

Fractals, the One Per Cent, and "Le Loup de Wall St"

The Original Wolf of Wall St, circa 1939

The Updated Version

I read this morning a recent column by New York Times economics columnist (and Princeton Nobel laureate) Paul Krugman.  In it, Professor Krugman is discussing the numerical and social implications of the current desire in the US to define the "One Per Cent" as class enemies.

One per cent may seem at first blush to be a small number, but it confronts what I call "the denominator problem."  That is to say, a fraction of a huge number is not small absolutely.

A couple of years ago, a somewhat ragamuffin melange of  protestors had a few minutes of fame (infamy?) squatting in a small pocket park in lower Manhattan, rallying round a battle cry agains the perceived unfairness of the grasping rich.  President Obama, Paul Krugman, and others picked up the cry, and it still can be heard today, still loud if somewhat faint.

Setting aside the moral judgment that Professor Krugman and others inject about what various people "deserve," the argument had and continues to have serious practical problems.  Some of these may be becoming apparent to the more thoughtful.

Proessor Krugman - who has at least an apparent grasp of real mathematics, not like the president  - recognises the challenge of defining a group that is so large as the "one per cent."  Obviously, one per one hundred is a relatively small fraction, but the denominator problem immediately presents - one per cent of 300 million is the city of Los Angeles.

"The one per cent" is a useful short-hand for the intellectually lazy, who require slogans rather than ideas or workable solutions.

I wonder, though, if Krugman's epiphany has less to do with a mathematical "a-ha" moment, and more to do with his recognition that this definition puts him in the class enemy list, a place where he and other country club communists are loathe to be?

(As an aside, among Professor Krugman's manifold grievances is the continuing climb in the costs of a university education - self-awareness is apparently not among his long suits, as he seems either oblivious or wilfully ignorant that he has been an employee of Princeton for much of that time, and its tuitions have not been exactly flat over the past 25 years.  But of course, the money lavished on professors who every year teach less and less is completely deserved, not like the gross acquisitiveness of a guy working in the grubby realm of commerce.)

Now, it's true that "most of the gains" have gone to "the top one per cent."  And within that top one per cent, to the top one per cent.  Et cetera.

Krugman is bumping into the problem of a distribution that may be quite fractal in nature - that is to say, a small piece of it reproduces the same properties as the large one - hence one per cent of the total looks remarkably like one per cent of that sample, and so on.

The paradoxical challenge that folks like President Obama and others face is that, in order to prop up tax-spend policies, the net must be large enough.  It's not really possible to pay for all the 'free' stuff the Democrats desire by taxing only the group that Krguman would go after, unless you are going to confiscate virtually everything they earn AND  a good chunk of their accumulated wealth as well.  A trillion is a massive amount.  If you target the  really big earners (say, to be generous, one per cent of the one percent), you're suddenly down to 30,000.  Some quick maths will show how much you will have to take to cover a trillion dollar deficit.

Every year.

Just to cover the FEDERAL deficits.

Good luck with that.

So, the denominator has to be larger as a matter of course.  Thus, the net to catch enough class enemies must be enlarged, or the scheme will not work.

One other thing - I've seen it written that the distriution of liberal supporters (take those who vote Democrat as a proxy) is U-shaped - most of the really poor, and most of the really rich.  If you start singling out too small a group and naming them... Well, I don't think that calling some of his best supporters class enemies will make the president - or Paul Krugman - very welcome for summer parties in the Hamptons.

The Future Belongs to those Who Are there to See it

Director Woody Allen once made a comment that quickly went from witticism, to accepted truism, to cliche with amazing speed, that 80% of success is just showing up.  I've heard an interesting corollary, I believe first offered by contrarian writer John Derbyshire that the future belongs to those who show up for it.  Derbyshire made the remark in discussing the dysgenic fertility patterns in the developed world (Europe, the US, Japan).

A few years before I was born, a famous (infamous) book appeared, The Population Bomb, by the Stanford biologist Paul Ehrlich.  In 1968, Ehrlich observed the rapid population growth of the post-World War 2 world, and delivered a canonical, Malthusian prediction of what the world would become in our lifetimes - overcrowded, starving, and war-torn over natural resources.  Much of what Ehrlich prophesied should have occurred by now.

But, much like the suppositions of "Back to the Future" of a world powered by Mr Fusion devices, or "The Jetsons" of flying bubble cars, much of what Ehrlich proposed did not come to pass.

In fact, much of the developed world has a sort of opposite pathology, and that is, that the West plus Japan (and now, China) are no longer producing sufficient numbers of children to remain stable.

Yesterday, the vital statistics for 2013 in France were released, and France in 2013 had a fertility of 1.99 live births per woman.  That number actually put France near the top for the EU, with Germany and Italy being strong laggards, at about 1.3 per woman.  (The US was in 2012, just above the 2.1 necessary for replacement, but as I pointed out here, much of that is being driven by the children of immigrants, legal and otherwise.

One need not be a Fields Medal winner to reckon what that means, and hence, Derbyshire's remarks.

The local newspaper has ascribed some of the reluctance in France for couples to have children to the effects of the recent implosion of the French economy.  It's a sensible point- people should become more cautious about starting (or enlarging) their families when the economic footing is on slipper rocks.  But that only, I think, explains a part of the problem.  Germany - in much worse shape demographically than France - has a lower birth rate for its native population.

Governments are facing very difficult choices - for a start, the famous socialist compacts in Europe rest upon a quasi-Ponzi scheme to function.  SOMEONE has to work to pay for the benefits of pensioners who retire at 60.  Since the people have no interest in the proposed "austerity" (in France, Nicholas Sarkozy was tossed out in no small measure because he decided to fight with the unions and to reform the retirement system - he was replaced with someone perceived to be much more pliant to the needs of the unionists), the models only work if there is a growing workforce.

The French specifically and the Europeans more broadly are not up to the task.

Why is this?

Have we reached the point of affluence where children are seen as a nuisance to the BOBO lifestyle that dominates the popular media?  Think of the most popular movies, television programmes, and books.  How many of them contain any sort of "typical" (read: traditional) family models?  Children are just not compatible with a hipster lifestyle; they make it difficult to spend time tweeting about the latest "ironic" restaurant you are going to attend with your friends.

There is a movie now making the rounds in the US - "Her" - about a sort of post-modern lifestyle,  A man with a "hip" job, living in a "hip" apartment in the de-suburbanised future of Los Angeles, replaces actual human contact with a barely-concealed version of Apple's "Siri."

Apparently, only one child - shown occasionally, and living in the only single family home left in LA amid the glorious, post-ironic Utopia of high-rise apartments - appears in the movie.  Children are, I guess, not really going to exist in the future, save for as a sort of nostalgic reminder, rather like a rotary telephone in a museum.

The ideal future is a child-free one.  But then, there are also no old people, so maybe it will be OK.

Think also of the 'hot' places to live - San Francisco, or TriBeCa, or Williamsburg or Cobble Hill in (God forbid) Brooklyn.  "Walkable" areas marked by trendy restaurants and faux-antique hardware stores.  They are not family-friendly.  San Francisco - perhaps the pinnacle of hipness - has the fewest children per capita of any large American city.

The future belongs to those who show up, but that, apparently will not include creative classes.  The unpleasant task of having and raising a family will be outsourced.

François Hollande: "Moche et Minable" (Gross and Shabby)

The news in France today got a bit funnier.  For those not familiar, the president, François Hollande, has added to his growing list of problems getting caught in an affair.  Now, the affair itself would likely not be a problem - past French presidents made little effort to hide their indiscretions, and this sort of thing can be summed up in the two word response of former head of state François Mitterand, when confronted with his latest peccadillo:  "Et alors?" (so what?)

The French news and public opinion are reacting not to the affair, but the rather classless way it's been handled by Hollande.

It seems that the economy and social order are just two among many affairs that he is incompetent at dealing with.  Jokes about him sneaking off to a small apartment on a dingy scooter in a plastic helmet under dark of night, and having his security spirit in croissants the next morning are all about. (NB: in France, the croissant is a cheap breakfast food - the least Hollande could do would be to provide some decent coffee and a pain au chocolat).

The video above from a local news broadcast is making the rounds today in France.  Sorry for the non-French speaker, but it is all in French.  But no matter, the operative items here are when the reporter on camera asks the Primer Minister Jean-Marc Ayrault,

Comment avez-vous trouvé le Président de République (how did you find the president)

one of the newsreaders back in the studio, in synch with the question, responds

moche et minable (gross and shabby)

to a round of laughter.  It seems she failed to note that her microphone was still on.  Later, the male newsreader apologises for the audience having heard "the little joke of Michelle, who thought her microphone was off."

You Learn Something New Every Day

Contemporary Flag of the
Ottoman Empire, ca 1680

The Famous Viennoiserie: Le Croissant

One of the small pleasures that riding the train every day to work is the opportunity to spend thirty minutes reading, rather than gripping the steering wheel in growing frustration at the stupidity of other motorists around you (pace George Carlin).  In Paris, there is a number of "free" news sheets that are on offer in the entrances to the various Métro stations, and I usually try to grab one on the way in.  I have found this to be a way to stay in touch with the basic local and world goings-on, to brush up my language skills, as well as an enjoyable way to pass the time.

The particular news I usually read is in Direct Matin.  The writing tends to be a bit on the sensational side (e.g., yesterday, there was a report of a shooting in Paris, where the victims were described thusly: "Leurs jours ne seraient toutefois pas en danger." (their days would not be in danger).

One of the interesting features of Direct Matin is a daily section called "Pourquoi?" (why?), where a reader's question on some quotidian topic is answered.  Yesterday's question concerned the origin of the halos seen above saints in religious paintings and statues.

Today's offering asked why croissants have their distinctive shape.  The answer I found quite surprising - it turns out, the famous pastry is not French - a fact that I ought to have suspected, I guess, from the fact that they are generically referred to as Viennoiserie, a cognate most English speakers will be able to sound out.  As that name implies, the croissant has its origins in Austria, and its shape from further to the east.

As it turns out, during the siege of Vienna by the Ottoman Turks in the seventeenth century, bakers, who work very early in the morning before dawn, apparently heard the Turks trying to undermine the city walls, and raised the alarm, helping turn back the invasion.  As an homage to the bakers and in celebration, the government authorised the new pastry, to be shaped like the crescent moon seen in the Ottoman flags.

The pastry came to France some years later, apparently, with Mary Antoinette (in France, often referred to as Marie Autriche - Marie the Austrian), who herself was a Viennese import.  Obviously, the croissant lasted longer and was more beloved than the queen, who later became associated with a rude quip about eating bread.

Another thing that was revealed is that, due to its origins, the eating of croissants is explicitly banned by many fundamentalist Islamist militants.  Seems that they know their pastries in addition to their military history.

So, enjoy a croissant and thumb your nose at the radical jihadists who, it turns out, may actually hate us for our freedom...to choose flaky pastries for breakfast.

Billions and Billions

Cover Art from Classical Text on Fractal Geometry

Read a quasi-scientific news release from the BBC that reported that scientists have mapped our universe to within one per cent accuracy.  Announced at the 223 meeting of the American Astronomical Society (AAS) were the findings of the Baryon Oscillation Spectroscope Survey (or, BOSS - how nice), in which a new "gold standard" has been set.  To quote from Professor David Schlegel (a professor of physics at Lawrence Berkeley Labs, and no relation to Immanuel Kant):

There are not many things in our daily lives that we know to 1% accuracy. I now know the size of the universe better than I know the size of my house. 

Twenty years ago astronomers were arguing about estimates that differed by up to 50%. Five years ago, we'd refined that uncertainty to 5%; a year ago it was 2%

Don't know how precisely I know the size of my house, but plainly, he is talking about tolerances, and this is an odd sort of comparison.  I would guess he knows the size of his house to within a few square metres, so in one sense, he surely knows its size much better than he does the size of the universe.  Precision as measured by effect size is a bit of tricky sledding.

Still, the announcement and information are remarkable, and provoked a discussion on whether the universe is finite or infinite.  Of course, I had always been of the impression that it was infinite, but it turns out that that may not be accurate. Quoting Professor Schlegel once again:

While we can't say with certainty, it's likely the universe extends forever in space and will go on forever in time. Our results are consistent with an infinite universe.

What would it mean for the universe - which it turns out, is actually quite flat; suddenly, those "flat earth society" jokes aren't quite so funny, huh? - to be flat boggles my mind at least.  Flat and finite. Hmmm....

One of the comments I read said, rather of matter-of-factly, that "of course the universe is infinite.  If it were finite, then one would simply go to the end, and then go a bit further," offering a bit of a pseudo-mathematial inductionist argument.

I'm not so sure that that flies.

I was reminded of my days in high school when the concept of proof by mathematical induction was introduced to me.  (NB:  quickly, the way an inductive proof is made is to take a fixed case, show that the conjecture is true for THAT case, set this case to "N," and then show it to be true for the case of N+1.  The argument is then bootstrapped into the general case).

It was, as I recall, all quite elegant.

A cartoon was used in the book to illustrate the principle, describing a parable of a young boy, who, upon approaching a guru, asked as to how the earth stood "up" in space without falling.  The guru immediately answered that there is a giant, invisible elephant in space holding up the earth.

The boy then asked what held the elephant in space.  Well, of course, another elephant held the first.

After several asked-and-answered questions, the guru tired, and said that the universe itself is simply held by elephants, one holding the next, ad infinitum.

I find these sorts of arguments - the inductive as well as the guru and elephant - less than satisfactory.  Topology does not translate directly and perfectly to the real world.  Reaching the edge of the universe, if it be indeed finite, one cannot simply go beyond.

Topology works in the case of the Heine-Borel theorem.  It may not stand up to the Prime Directive.

Anyways, it's a big breakthrough, and if the universe turns out to be, indeed, finite, then the elephant guru's life just got that much simpler.

Dieudnonne: Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite

My family and I left the US for life in Paris, France a while back, and have been enjoying it immensely.  Contrary to American stereotypes, the people have largely been quite nice and accommodating.  And of course, life in Paris has a lot to be said for it - the architecture, the food, the history.

The official motto, if not philosophy, of la république, is the famous battle cry of the past: "Liberté (freedom), Egalité (equality), Fraternité (brotherhood).  I've heard that if the list were put in the order of actual importance, equality would come first, and liberty at the end.

That said, France is the land of Voltaire, who is often (wrongly) associated with the famous quote that one may "disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it."  In fact, the quote belongs to Evelyn Beatrice Hall (herself English) who wrote a biography of Voltaire.

One frequently hears self-proclaimed liberals invoking the quote.  Sometimes, just before they condemn someone whose politics they don't like, and just after passing a speech code.

In the US, there is a First Amendment, guaranteeing one the freedom to say what one likes without risk of government prosecution.  There are limits, of course.  No such explicit right exists in France, though it is generally true that one may say what one likes so long as one stays within certain vague boundaries.  That's, of course, not real free speech, but close to it.  Something like the way that Velveeta - a "cheese food product" emulates cheese.

Anyhow, this has become clear in France as we witness the déroulement of events surrounding the "humourist" Dieudonné M'bala M'bala.  Known more broadly in France by his given name Dieudonné (his actual name, as irony would have it), the provocateur has irritated the local government and chattering classes with a thinly-veiled anti-semitic "salute" which he has named la quenelle.

Being that I am not French, I had never heard of this guy, but he is quite well-known as a second-rate comedian, third-rate actor, and bottom-feeding politician. Despite this, he is currently dominating the news in France, largely because the government, led by the Interior Minister Manuel Valls (he is the head of domestic policy, including the police), have decided that enough is enough with Dieudonné, and have thusly moved to block his shows.  Citing a vague threat to "public security," the socialist government sought court action to ensure that the show not go on.

(As an aside, in French, these shows are called spectacles, which I do not doubt that they are, in the English sense.)

Make no mistake - I have zero sympathies for a thug like this guy, but I am shocked to see the government here - the land of Voltaire - move to ban his performances.  In essence, they are making what amounts to offensive speech illegal.

My feelings all along have been that freedom of speech exists not to protect speech we like - even North Korea allows one to offer fawning encomia to the current (insert obsequious superlative) Leader; freedom of speech means tolerating - even defending - speech we find repugnant.

Not sure if this 'news' has made it to the US, but I presume it has in one sense - the local paper ran a story about basketball player Tony Parker, a French citizen, who made a quenelle during a game, and has subsequently been brow-beaten into an overwrought apology.

Equally disturbing - France has, despite its greatness, very real problems.  Unemployment is very high.  The torching of 1100 cars on New Year's Eve represents a reduction over 2012.  A couple of thousand soldiers are deployed in God-forsaken central Africa despite overwhelming public opposition.  The recent PISA (school tests) results show the schools here slipping.  The country has massive camps of illegal immigrants festering just beyond the gleaming cities, with sky-high crime and other social maladies, which the government seems utterly impotent to do a thing about.

And the top priority for the government is to try to crush out an obnoxious, unfunny comedian.  Valls was headlined today, after an appeals court overturned another lower court who had ruled that the ban was a violation of basic free speech, commenting that "la République a gagnée" (the republic has won).  Well, the republic - the state - may have won; but its citizens have lost something.  Something more important.

I personally think this is the ultimate bread and circuses sideshow.

But I am further reminded of an equally famous comment by William F Buckley - to paraphrase: Liberals claim to want to defend and listen to other views, but are then shocked and even offended to discover that there in fact, are views other than their own.

Putting the Language to a REAL Test

I understand that back in the US, there has been a period of terrible cold recently - images have made their way to France of frozen people trudging through mounds of snow.  One can imagine the howling winds.  My teeth begin to chatter just by looking (almost).

What a perfect backdrop for the mail that landed in my inbox this morning, from Stub Hub.

Lauded as "Old-school hockey" returns.

Matches are set for play later this month in outdoor venues.  When I was younger, I can remember playing pick-up hockey on a frozen pond in Hanover, New Hampshire, so I can appreciate to a degree the appeal.

The matches will be played at Yankee Stadium (New York Rangers and Islanders) and Soldier Field in Chicago (Blackhawks will welcome the Pittsburgh Penguins).

While "Yankee Stadium" is no longer the House that Ruth built, the original having been torn down and replaced in 2008, and while the Islanders and Penguins are not from The Original Six, there is a sort of old-school feel to a battle played in the cold. And incidentally, what is more of a "tough guy" image for a hockey match than playing in "Soldier Field?"  Perhaps the best name for a stadium in professional sport.

But then, one sees the final matchup.  The Los Angeles Kings will take on the Anaheim Ducks.  At DODGER STADIUM.

Hmmm...

To call that "old school" strains credulity to the point of breaking.

Incidentally, I hope the fans in Southern California remember their cotton pull-overs.  Winter in Los Angeles can be quite nippy...

Ne Mets Pas Tes Mains Sur Les Portes!

Le Lapin RATP (aka "Serge, le Lapin Rose")

Today, because my wife had some business to take care of, I took our eight-year old son to his school.  This afforded me some extra time on the RATP (the famous Metro of Paris), as his school is the opposite direction of my usual trip to work.  This time was further augmented when I connected to the suburban RER-A that carries travellers out of Paris to the ring suburbs - an announcement was made that "a cause d'un panne de signalisation a l'Auber, le traffic est fortement ralenti dans l'ensemble de la ligne..." - and thus was further delayed on my out-journey.

I'm not a public transit fetishist like many of my former friends, peers, and acquaintances in northern California.  But I do appreciate the utility in certain circumstances.

Today was one such.

Living in a city of many millions of people, one can easily appreciate the up-side to an efficient and well-run (the panne de signalisation to the side) is.

The trip from my son's school in one of the western arrondissements of the city to Rueil includes two Metro lines - a switch at Trocadero - and one RER - which one reaches at the Etoile station.

During rush hour, the trains seem either by good planning or good fortune to be in relative synchrony.  In the corridors, the foot traffic is (for a Latin country) well-co-ordinated: People headed to the RER keep to the right, those headed back to the Metro the left.  There are stair wells where one must go down ("Passage Interdit") and those which one must ascend, and the conventions are obeyed.

But what strikes me the most is the silent way people go about getting from A to B.  A friend who also is currently living in Paris on a sabbatical - another Bay area refugee of sorts - remarked about how odd it was that, in the crowded subway cars, the French are practically silent.  I had not noticed it, but in paying attention, he is correct.  People are crammed together, but save for the occasional "pardon" one hears when a fellow passenger wishes to get off (or on) the train, words are generally not exchanged.  In the tunnels between the platforms, if there is not a busker, one hears the clop, clop, clop of hard-soled shoes as the people march from train to train.  In the cars, the creaking of the breaks or the rattle of the wheels - occasionally broken by the messages one hears when there is a slow-down - are all that meets the ears.

It's an eerie feeling.  In Paris, not like, say, the New York MTA, people seem to observe that 'their' space begins and ends within themselves and that others on the train have their own space, and thus don't talk loudly on their phones or to one another.  Relative quiet is valued, a stark feeling for an American.

The whole scenario takes some getting used to, but one that I think makes a crowded, somewhat stressful environment eminently more tolerable.

I Saw a Ship a Sailing, Part 2

Some months ago, I wrote of the news of an old college friend who had had a brain tumour; the tumour turned out to be cancerous.

Yesterday, Ben (the friend) celebrated his 44th birthday - so he's older than I am.

He celebrated the birthday in grand form, and shared pictures of himself skating on a rink that had been set up in Boston's Fenway Park.  Ben and his family have been kind to update those of us far flung on his progress, which I am happy to say has been good.

Also shared were holiday pictures, including a couple with the Boston Red Sox's (Sox'?) 2013 World Series Trophy - Ben is from New England, and a life-long fan of the Red Sox.

Now, I personally hate the Red Sox, but am willing to let this go.

Hope to see of him singing the national anthem again at Fenway this year (as he has done in the past), though sorry; still cannot bring myself to cheer for a Boston victory.

Friendship has its limits.