When someone ten years your junior asks you to drop your pants you know it's going to be an interesting evening. Saturday started normally. My partner and I were hosted by good friends, Adrian and Pat, at the final day of the Melbourne Cup Carnival. Down a few dollars I left the track for the public transport trip to Tel Aviv. Presumably the Qatari passport stamp sent me to be privately screened at Bangkok airport. My satchel was taken away for an ''X-ray'' before being handed back 40 minutes later with its contents missing. I was then taken to a private room and asked, ''Are you wearing underwear?'' Mum would've been proud they were clean as I stood for ten minutes as Israeli security inspected every part of my jeans before I reclaimed my dignity and boarded.
In Tel Aviv I met up with my media colleagues participating in the Rambam Israel Fellowship programme organised by the Australia/Israel & Jewish Affairs Council. The comprehensive introduction to Israel included a tour of the old city of Jerusalem and the ancient fortress of Masada, and meetings with politicians, academics and journalists. Our Palestinian guide took us to the Aida refugee camp in Bethlehem for an uneventful, educational experience about how the locals live. The local Palestinian kids decided to perform and threw rocks at the nearby Israeli soldiers. The soldiers also performed by firing two tear gas canisters in the sky, before one landed five metres away, bounced and laid to rest at my feet. Sadly I couldn't find a T-shirt that said ''I was tear gassed by the IDF and all I got was this T-shirt, stinging eyes and a decongested nasal passage.''
Tear gas is nothing compared to the experience of the small township of Sderot. If Sderot residents hear the words ''red colour'' in Hebrew, they have 15 seconds until it rains Qassam rockets sent from the Gaza strip only a kilometre away. That isn't very long, especially as it took five for our bus to stop and open its door. I counted. Fortunately Hamas weren't in the performing mood the day we visited. I only have one bit of advice if you are considering travelling to Israel: go!
For my sins, I observe international climate talkfests annually. This year 8,000 environmental activists, rent-seeking businesses, media and negotiators attended. Based on the current negotiating timeline a new global carbon cutting treaty is supposed to be concluded in Paris in 2015. I'll have to make sure I am extra sinful that year. I wasn't expecting to be greeted by a ''Green Warrior of Norway'' handing me a condom at the Polish National Stadium. On the prophylactic's packaging were quotes about the evils of overpopulation and overconsumption. Thankfully even far-left green activists recognised recycling's limits by warning that the product was for ''one usage only''.
A rare joy of attending these summits is spending time with like-minded, long-suffering free marketeers from across the globe, all three of them. A fellow lonely sole at these events is Ron Bailey from the US-based libertarian Reason Foundation. A disappointment of my travels is that they overlapped with the C.D. Kemp lecture. This year's lecture was delivered by the best-selling author Matt Ridley. He quoted Bailey for his erudite definition of the precautionary principle: ''Never do anything for the first time''. Bailey is a good dinner companion on cold Warsaw nights, but we have very different tastes in wine.
Climate talks are rarely eventful. Negotiations are behind closed doors. Journalists sit in the press centre typing copy. The real colour and light is offered by activists. They've mastered the art of providing snappy quotes and visual stunts for a gullible and bored media. As climate change has dropped in public importance so have activist numbers. The usual stunts are gone. They symbolically walked out of the conference in anger at the progress of talks while chanting ''we shall overcome''. After spending minutes in Warsaw's November climate they walked back inside to enjoy the warmth provided by the nearby coal-fired power station.
Each year a key negotiating theme develops. This year developing countries wanted a ''loss and damages'' fund to help them finance the costs from major climatic events. They used the Philippine typhoon as justification. On the third last day the UN Secretariat installed donation boxes at 5pm so attendees could individually help Filipino victims. By 7.15pm there was a solitary donation, and I am pretty sure it was put there to prime the pump. Australia wasn't very popular at the conference. Disconnected-from-reality activists and bureaucrats weren't impressed we elected an Abbott government that thinks carbon taxes are for repealing, not increasing.
I went through London to get home. Aussie expat Jason Groves and his British civil partner and celebrated classical pianist Charles Owen organised a dinner in a rather swank Belgravia restaurant with fellow expat Gordon Adams and long-time friend and former Kiwi Shane Frith. The quote of the night came from Charles who said, ''Not many British classical musicians regularly read The Spectator. But the truth is, as soon as it arrives, I almost wet my pants with excitement.'' Over dinner I broke the cardinal ''one Martini is all right, two is too many, three is never enough'' rule. Packing my bags to fly home the next morning was a challenge.
In light of the limitations of neoclassical economics, there is a need to move toward economic paradigms characterising economic agents as fallible, yet capable of efficiently allocating resources even through enterprising behaviour, and duly acknowledging the prospective damage rendered by coercive state action to highly functional economic coordination by fallible, yet capable, beings. Australian economist Wolfgang Kasper, together with fellow economists Manfred Streit and Peter Boettke, make serious strides toward a systematic account of economic phenomena, without the neoclassical downsides, in Institutional Economics: Prosperity, Competition, Policies.
High taxation represents a more intensive extinguishment of property rights, reducing the rewards associated with productive economic conduct, whereas prescriptive regulations can artificially direct entrepreneurs towards less productive lines of action. Wasteful expenditures by government, particularly for redistribution, reduce opportunities for private sector agents to direct resources for their own priorities and may encourage people to divert their attentions away from serving others and towards seeking political favouritism.
In the History section, Palmer critiques the Marxist interpretation of history and explains how a liberal interpretation is more accurate, as well as outlining how the modern concept of liberty has been cultivated over time. Palmer sees history more as a struggle between the individual and the state rather than class-based, focusing on the separation between church and state, the limiting of the powers of kings and the rise of constitutionalism as essential developments in human history. These are summarised in an article on mankind's biggest achievements of the last millennium, written by Palmer in 1999. Though that article certainly comes close, it is Palmer's 1990 article on the collapse of socialism in the Soviet Union which is no doubt the standout of this section.
Burke served in the House of Commons for 29 years from 1765 to 1794, and while he only held office for a brief period, his career demonstrates that holding office and having lasting significance are two entirely different things. Given his comparatively humble Irish roots, it was a tribute to Burke's intellect and writing skills that he came to be seen as a potential gained access to some of the leading cultural groups in London, mixing in clubby fraternity with the likes of Samuel Johnson, Joshua Reynolds and David Garrick. However, his key patron was to be the Marquis of Rockingham, who engaged Burke as his private secretary, and then a few months later secured Burke a "pocket borough" in parliament.
To engender sympathy for Burke's position on the French Revolution, Norman paints it in the colours of Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Thus Burke's views are juxtaposed against one of the least palatable philosophers in history. Of course, this leaves out a vast range of positions, particularly liberal ones. What lifts Norman above the role of pamphleteer is that he has the decency to point out to his readers that "in some ways the two men [Burke and Rousseau] had more in common than either might have cared to admit". In similar vein to his use of Rousseau, Norman selects Jeremy Bentham as the apogee of liberalism, an odd choice, but one which allows him to what he clearly regards as the most favourable representation with Burke's conservatism.
For Burke and Norman, a free society is the product of a well-ordered society, not as liberals would see it being the other way around. Given the number of well-ordered societies which have not had much liberty, history would hardly seem to support their case.
The common experience of the men who left the land for work in the factories and warehouses of the nascent industrial hubs was that the work they performed there was "better than the labour which had consumed their fathers' energies ― and often their own early labours as well," according to Griffin. There is a certain romanticism associated with pre-industrial rural life that leads us to believe people's lives were simpler, healthier and better than the lifestyles brought on by mechanisation and industrialisation. The problem with this view is that it is not reflected in the first hand accounts of workers who experienced the change. For our autobiographers, "rural roots were something to escape, not glorify". Throughout the book we hear stories of the dissatisfaction of rural life. Jobs were too few, and what jobs there were paid too little. Agricultural wages were unreliable, hard to come by and barely enough to eke out the most basic existence for a man and his family.
Walking away from a job, however awful and low-paying, was unheard of before the Industrial Revolution got going. Once it did, deference and submission gave way to autonomy and independence ― things which the working poor rarely achieved while struggling under the yoke of rural poverty. We should not underestimate the powerful social changes unleashed by this shift in the balance of power.
It's no coincidence, then, that this period also coincided with the birth of political engagement by working class people. It's often assumed that working people mobilised into a political force at around this time in response to poor working conditions. Griffin provides a counter-narrative to this idea, arguing that such mobilisation would never have been possible before industrialisation unleashed new opportunities for social and political participation for working people. She writes that "the flowering of clubs and societies at this time was not a symptom of the workforce's growing discontent but of new levels of freedom, confidence and autonomy."