This is the blog which temporarily achieved local fame in and around the London School of Economics in the spring of 2006. I got into a lot of trouble for what I wrote on these pages.

I like to think of The Footnotes as an educational service I provided to the LSE and to members of the British establishment. My aim was to teach them a thing or two about the meaning of freedom of speech. I think I succeeded reasonably well.

I’m not updating these pages any more, but I’m still reading comments so please leave one. In the one year of its existence this blog had 97,467 visitors.

yours always,

Erik

P.S. Btw, my new blog, “Too Many Mangoes,” is now up and running.

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It’s February 1st and I no longer work at the LSE. I wrote a letter of resignation to Howard Davies. There’ll be a pdf here of course — and here it is!

I worked at the LSE for some 12 years. Much of it was great. Above all to get a first proper job, to have a monthly salary, to develop courses and to interact with students, to have reading and writing as a career. Meanwhile Diane and I started our adventure together, in our new house, with one kid after another. What in life could be better?

On the darker side: the LSE version of the British class-system and the pretentiousness of some colleagues in the Government Department. They always suspected that I didn’t take them seriously, and they were right of course. Then the whole blogging and free speech issue — everyone from Howard Davies down trying to shut me up. Sigh. Deep sigh.

My new university, NCTU, is a great improvement in these respects. It’s not a commercial venture, they are not dependent on student fees, and they don’t give a damn what I say in my blog. Besides I like living in a country where I’m forced to learn things every day. Learning things, after all, is what my life’s about. London has already receeded behind the horizon.

But the real excitement is happening away from academia. We are looking for a Chinese-style house up in the mountains outside of Hsinchu. We’re going to keep goats and grow papaya. The kids are getting settled. Rima is already fluent in baby Chinese and Saga is quickly becoming a Chinese teenager. We look forward to many more years here. Again, what could life offer that’s better?

“I put down my robe, picked up my diploma,
Took hold of my sweetheart and away we did drive,
Straight for the hills, the black hills of Dakota,
Sure was glad to get out of there alive.

And the locusts sang, well, it give me a chill,
Yeah, the locusts sang such a sweet melody.
And the locusts sang with a high whinin’ trill,
Yeah, the locusts sang and they was singing for me,
Singing for me, yeah singing for me.”

Bob Dylan, 1970.

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We watched the notorious Loose Change video last night. It’s very interesting, if not necessarily for the reasons the film-makers suggest. I love the critical, storm-the-king’s-palace, attitude of these young kids. Question authority! I also love the power that’s been given to 20 somethings with laptops and internet connections. What talk-radio was to the conservatives in the 1980s, blogs and the internet are to the neo-radicals today. Power to the people!

But why should I go on and on about it when I actually can show it to you:

So, did Bush do it? Of course not. Not even Dick Cheney or Rumsfeld. They clearly aren’t well-organized enough. This kind of an operation would have required “military precision,” but we all know what American military precision is worth.

What I do know is that if more people like these kids had been speaking out three years ago, the Iraq war could have been prevented. Most Americans are such flag-waving dupes, but this film reminds you that there is another American tradition of irreverence and critical thought. Great stuff.

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As some readers have pointed out, the Chinese translation of this page provided by Google isn’t actually proper Chinese — and in addition it’s kind of embarrasing. As a result I’ve decided to rename it 谷歌文 (”Googlese”). Click on the button at the top of the sidebar for this strange hybrid of a lingo.

Please remember that Westerners are allowed into East Asia mainly in order to entertain and bewilder the inhabitants with their mispronounciations and mistranslations of the local language. I’m just doing my part.

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The fall semester has now finally ended even in my part of the world. We’re off for a six week New Year’s break! It was a long slog, and I must admit I was pretty fed up already around December 24/25. That’s just the way I was conditioned. But we made it in the end.

New Years itself is not until February 17. Diane got us tickets to Macao and Hong Kong for two weeks. Despite all my years in Asia, I’ve never actually set foot outside of Hong Kong’s airport. Everyone says two weeks is too long but I can see a prolonged visit to HK Disneyland coming up. Let’s hope I can fight off my Marcusean instincts. Why always be so cynical about everything?

Btw, only 10 days to go before I finally resign from the LSE. I resigned in my mind a long time ago — see more below — but the paperwork must be updated. Besides, I’d like to start my new work for real before I quit. That’s happening on February 1st. I’m thinking of what to write in the letter to Howard Davies. Something short and sweet. Perhaps you have some suggestions?

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My kids just did their final exams. They like exams in Taiwan. And if Taiwanese kids do badly they get punished. Saga tells me “nearly everyone” in her class gets spanked if their results are under 95 percent. Anything to get into those Ivy League schools! The teachers used to spank the kids too, but at least in our school that’s no longer practiced.

My TA firmly believes that my students would work harder if I punished them. That’s just a little bit weird, no? I’m really uncomfortable with corporal punishment. I also don’t believe in mixing pedagogy with sexual excitement — even if some students ask for it.

Considering how much they love hurting each other in school, Taiwanese sex life — well, what I’ve noticed of it — seems surprisingly wholesome. Not much prostitution and little by means of “red light” activities of any kind. There are some sex shops to be sure but they mainly seem to sell lingerie. Few signs of any spanking implements.

My social science theory is as follows: spanking is only translated into an adult sexual fetish in strongly hierarchical societies. This surely explains the English fascination with S & M. Judging by the little cards attached to London phoneboxes, the English spend more time on spanking than on traditional penetrative sex. Clearly they find hurting each other’s bottoms more fun. It also fits far better with the general nature of their social relations.

Universities are of course strongly hierarchical too and spanking is the fetish of choice of many professors. The most famous case at the LSE was the great conservative icon, Michael Oakeshott. The man loved horses and apparently he loved the sound of the whip. According to a living LSE legend, stacks of spanking mags were carried away from his office after he retired. You don’t have to be a conservative to be a sadist, but it probably helps.

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All our remaining goldfish suddenly died on us. We changed the water, cleaned the tank, but apparently we did something wrong. We are all strangely affected. Eating a fish for dinner is OK but having one die in your hands is heartbreaking. We were responsibile for them and we failed.

Should we try again? Maybe fish just isn’t our thing. Couldn’t we go back to children, pretty please?

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We’re looking for somewhere new to live. Right now we’re renting an apartment in the middle of town. It’s fun, hectic and overwhelming in a Chinese inner-city kind of way but for the longer run we’ll need more space where the kids can play. We went for a drive around Hsinchu yesterday and there are all kinds of things available. Much of it pretty manky it must be said, and there are lots of developments put up by fly-by-night contractors with a taste for faux Greek columns.

To our horror we really took to a development with large, American-style, houses. Suddenly we understood how our parents felt back in the 1960s when they migrated to the suburbs. We who always hated the suburbs.

Then we took a road leading up into the mountains. After only a few minutes a large vista opened up. Mountain range after mountain range lined up in that unlikely pattern which Chinese ink paintings make famous. We looked around and saw oranges on the trees and tea plantations. Now this is the place to live. Imagine waking up every morning and tasting mountains for breakfast.

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I’m finally learning about Facebook and I’m writing about it in my blogging book. I knew I was out of the loop on this one but I never realized just how out of the loop I was. 85 percent of US college students are on Facebook but it’s a world professors know little about. Some 11,000 plus current and former LSE students are registered in the network but no full-time academic staff. Facebook is a party organized by kids while the parents are away.

If 90 % of going to a university is about socializing and hooking yourself up and 10% is about academic pursuits, it makes a lot of sense for students to spend 9 hours a day on Facebook and 1 hour in the library. It’s a perfectly rational use of one’s time.

Still, I’m embarrassed by my ignorance. I thought you were taking notes on your laptops during my lectures. Only now do I realize that you were facebooking each other. Sigh.

My write-up is below:

Read the rest of this entry »

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They are writing about me in The Beaver again, the LSE student newspaper. Yes, I did cc them in on the “Xmas Card to the LSE bosses.” An institution like the LSE must learn to live by its own rules.

Btw, the Amazon.uk web page has started listing my blogging book as forthcoming. It’s just a dummy page so far — and I’m not sure about the title the publisher has chosen, “A Blogger’s Manifesto” — but the price is just right — 8.99 pounds. It’ll come down to about 4-5 pounds when resold.

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I have finally taken some time off to install a new plugin for videos. The Footnotes have gone videoblog! What better way to celebrate than with a Dylan clip? A really cool version of “Highlands” from 2001 or thereabouts.

Hi Bob, welcome to my blog!

It should even be possible to download the clip to your hard-disk. Click on the “get it?” link. Copyright implications? Of course not. I’m only linking. Only linking.

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Illustration: www.fudge.cz

The Footnotes is one year today! And what a year it’s been. Lots of posts, lots of comments, and well over 97,000 visitors. As a way to celebrate 365 days of impertinence, I here republish the very first post:

A funny thing happened at work today. The most pompous of my colleagues — Oxbridge education, plummy accent, egg on waist-coat — was giving a long and particularly tedious talk. Then he drew something on the blackboard. An impromptu map, I think, but at this stage I was no longer paying attention. He continued speaking but turned around repeatedly and added to the map. For each addition the picture began to look more and more like a penis. After a while there was no doubt. There it was: a perfectly formed manhood in all its fully erect glory. Testicles, pubic hair and everything. I began laughing. First a little snicker, than a louder guffaw. Heads were turning in my direction. I whispered my observation to the person next to me who made a face of disgust. How dared I! Not funny. Not funny at all.

It was childish of course. Very childish. Both to laugh about it and to blog about it. “I can’t write that,” I thought, “my colleague is too easily recognizable.” Then again the joke was mainly on me, not on him. If I chose to be childish in public, it was my decision. Besides, this is a free country, right? I can say what I like. And I did.

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Yes, we hear you loud and clear. The results of the latest poll are just in and you obviously don’t think we should have any more kids. You are no doubt right. How sensible of you. We will refrain (or try our best anyway).

As you remember, the question was “should we have another child?” and the results were as follows:

• 0% — no, four is enough
• 19% — yes, if you think you can take care of him/her
• 12% — why not play Scrabble in the evenings?
• 69% — maybe you should switch to dogs?

We have actually already acted on your suggestion. Instead of getting dogs, however, we have decided to go for goldfish. We went to the aquarium shop and bought a small tank and all the paraphenalia that go with it. We also bought five small goldfishes — of which four still are alive.

The great advantage of goldfish is of course that you can have a lot of them. Especially once we’ve learned how to stop them from dying on us.

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Dear Prospective Asian PhD student,

I know you really want to go to the United Kingdom to study. There are very famous universities there — Oxford, Cambridge, LSE, and many others. This is, you’ve been told, where the best students in the world meet the best professors. If nothing else, your parents will be endlessly proud of you and you’ll have a future job in the bag. The prestige value of a UK PhD is immesurable.

Still, I suggest it’s a scam. They are taking advantage of your eagerness to get ahead in life through educational means. Perhaps it’s time for a short reality-check:

• English universities really aren’t all that good. Far inferior than the best American universities and certainly not much better than universities in Scandinavia, Germany or France.
• Don’t forget, PhD programs in UK universities, in contrast to American, have no course component. All you get for your tuition fee — some 12,000 pounds per year — are a few chats with your supervisor. When you factor in the cost of living in a city such as London, this is likely to be about as much as your family’s entire annual income.
• Add the lousy weather, the lousy food and it all becomes very unattractive indeed. Yes, and I forgot the barely concealed racism against anyone with an East Asian accent. They’ll take your money, but they won’t take you seriously. More on British racism here.
• If you go ahead with your UK PhD, what you’ll soon realize is that you’ll be far better off doing your research back in your home country. You’ll save money that way and most likely you’ll be closer to your primary sources. Before long you’ll find yourself sending 12,000 pounds off to the UK every year and getting absolutely nothing in return — no library access, not even an absent-minded supervisor.  It’s like an international aid program in reverse. Before long the absurdity of the situation will be hard to ignore.
• The only thing you’ll get in the end is the alleged prestige of a UK degree. Yes, this is still worth something today but only since universities and employers in East Asia are slow to catch up on the serious trouble that UK academia is in. The Singaporean authorities have. They are not encouraging students to travel to the UK for a PhD anymore. Other Asian countries will soon draw the same conclusion.
• Let’s assume that the prestige of UK universities has a half-life of about 50 years. If that’s true, your PhD won’t be worth nearly as much by the time you are ready to go on the job market, and it’ll be worth even less some decades into your career.

The obvious alternative is to do a PhD in one of the many outstanding universities in East Asia itself. There are many that give courses in English, full of world-class professors and world-class students. NCTU, where I work, is a great example. The cost here is far, far lower — including living costs — and you’ll have a much easier time adjusting. There is no racism and no behind-your-back condescension. There are no woolly sweaters and no woolly grub. And most importantly, the prestige value of your East Asian PhD is a commodity whose value is on the rise.

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Diane and I are actually thinking of having another child. We only have 4 after all. That’s nothing! In our grandparents’ generation they had from 6 to 12. We could just about slip one in — so to speak — before the biological clock ticks its last tock.

It was never really clear to me why we ended up having such a lot of children. OK, I know the biology involved, but not quite the psychology. Perhaps we tried to recreate a bustling family-life in a country — Enland and now Taiwan — where we have no other relatives? Perhaps it was a way to avoid having to go to parties, to the movies, and in general to have a social life? Perhaps there is some deep existential motivation. For a long time it seemed we had another child whenever someone in our family died. Conception was our sweaty and heart-pounding protest against the human condition.

Still, five does seem like a lot. The question is of course how to weight the pros against the cons.

pros:

• one more child is one more person to love, to care for, hang out with, get to know. Our family matters more to us any anything. The more the merrier.
• it would be one more friend for the other kids to play with, give piggieback rides to and teach naughty words.
• the kid would be born in Taiwan and learn to speak properly from day one.

cons:

• we’ll be too old when the kid turns 20. In fact, we’ll be too old when the kid turns 5.
• children cost money and we both have academic salaries. We can’t afford it. Then again, we couldn’t afford the first one either.
• it might turn out to be a boy. Boys have weird habits and tiny weenies between their legs. Disgusting!
• what if he/she is stupid, ugly and generally unpleasant? How would he/she ever fit in with the other kids?

What do you think? Please help us out by answering the questionaire in the sidebar to the right.

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This is a Chinese experimental version of this blog. Let’s pretentiously call it a “beta” version.

• 忘記的腳註 (Forget the Footnotes)

No, no, I didn’t translate it myself. The automated lexicographers at Google did. I can’t even read the page, although I’m struggling with parts of it.

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We had an earthquake last night. Suddenly about 8.30 the floor started shaking and the lamps swaying. We ran out on the street but no one else seemed too bothered. We are earthquake virgins after all.

Still the quake was powerful enough to be reported on the BBC web page (”Strong Quake Hits off Taiwan“). The Taiwanese seismic office measured it as 6.7 on the Richter scale. The epicenter was in southern Taiwan. No one was hurt although Some six people died in the south and books fell of shelves as far north as in Taipei. Telecommunications throughout Asia were disrupted since a cable on the ocean floor snapped.

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Swedes eat rice porridge, risgrynsgröt, for Christmas. In fact we even feed it to our Santa Clauses. A Santa who doesn’t get his gröt is sure to return and make trouble for you during the year ahead. We serve it with cinnamon and there is supposed to be a peeled almond mixed in with the glutinous substance. The person who gets the almond will be married within the year. But there was clearly something wrong with the almond aspect of the tradition. I got many almonds over the years before I got hitched.

This year we did a South-East Asian version of the meal. We boiled sticky rice with coconut milk and added durian. Durian is a tropical fruit famous for its weird prickly exterior and nauseating smell. I’ve relied on it in the past as a talisman, but now we actually ate some. It’s heavenly. Yes, indeed, heavenly. Me and Diane had second and third helpings. As it turns out it goes perfectly with the smallest glass of whiskey. In addition, Santa had brought a Jimmy Hendrix CD which we put on, and I swear the gröt had psychotropic properties.

Durian is reported in Southeast Asia to work as an aphrodisiac. Hence the popular saying “when the durians come down, the sarongs come off.” Durian, I’ve come to realize, is the real reason why many people in this part of the world have such satisfied smiles on their faces. Does it work? Well, let’s put it this way, gröt with durian is more reliable than gröt with almonds.

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Merry Christmas from Taiwan. 聖誕快樂 – Shengdan Kuaile! May Santa bring you the presents that you always wished for. Personally, all I want is world peace and for my daughters to stop fighting with each other. The outlook for world peace is more promising.

Actually we thought we could get away with not having Christmas this year. Only some 1 percent of Taiwanese are Christians and our kids don’t even have the 25th off from school. My university courses grind on through the holiday just as before. Nothing much changes until the Chinese New Year in mid-February.

But as it turns out Christmas is heavily celebrated in shopping-malls. There are Christmas trees everywhere and endless encouragements to consume. Ever eager to follow local customs we bought a new car! (The first car I’ve owned in 16 years — in London we always relied on Ken Livingstone to take us places). And yesterday we celebrated by going to IKEA. They have pepparkaksgubbar there — gingerbread men — and Christmas candles.

Today we will mainly be assembling furniture and watching the YouTube Christmas specials. No, Santa’s workshop is not in the North Pole, it’s in Taiwan (although much of the actual work is subcontracted to elfs in the Chinese mainland).

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This time every year we hear those tedious calls for a “return to the true meaning of Christmas.” What various kill-joys and wet blankets want us to do is to celebrate in a simpler style, with less eating, drinking and groping of colleagues in broom-cupboards at the office Xmas party. Inevitably they then start saying something about Jesus, the “message of Christmas,” and some similar notions, equally woolly and vague.

Now, let me tell you a few things about the true meaning of Christmas. A thusand years ago us Scandinavians celebrated Midvinterblot at this, the darkest, time of the year. The “mid-winter sacrifice” was a ritual to convince the sun to return to the dark north. By all accounts it was a great party. They ate a lot, drank even more, and no doubt some groping of co-tribalists was taking place. The Vikings, by all accounts, didn’t need broom cupboards.

Have you ever considered why Christmas trees have red decorations? Originally they were dead animals the Scandinavians hung up as sacrifices. Queen Victoria’s German husband Albert took the Christmas tree with him to England and the tradition caught on. Few Anglo-Saxons know the gory origins.

When Christians missionaries appeared in northern Europe a thousand years ago they decided to do something about this great pagan party. People were clearly enjoying themselves too much. Gradually they turned it into a Christian holiday. Sacrifices were banned, together with over-eating, over-drinking and over-groping. The ruse should have been easy to expose: their man, Jesus, was actually born in the spring.

Luckily old traditions die hard and Midvinterblot will long outlive Christianity. So next time someone tells you in a superior tone of voice to “return to the true meaning of Christmas,” answer with a drunken cheer and tell them in no uncertain terms to stop messing with your celebration.

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My last cohort of LSE students just graduated in London. Yes that’s right, somewhat perversely the Master’s students who have their exams in the spring only graduate in December.

For graduation, students from around the world fly back to London, often together with their proud parents. But not that many academics bother to show up for the ceremony. LSE faculty, famously, like to bugger off as soon as the term ends. The graduation itself consists of a mock-Oxbridge costume party and a cocktail thingy with watered down champagne and taco chips. I wonder what the parents make of it? Is this what they paid all that money for? Yet they are consistently very, very proud.

Let’s forget about awkward graduation ceremonies and about taco chips. We had some exciting times together. You were good friends of mine for a while. So full of ambition and fun, intelligence and self-doubt. I learned from you and I hope you learned something from me.

My life has moved on since London and so have yours. It’s a good thing. A life that moves on is always better than a life that grinds to a halt. Good luck to you all! Don’t follow leaders, watch the parkin’ meters.

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Christmas is a time when you look back on the year that’s been and you send Christmas cards to those you remember particularly fondly. Of course I couldn’t stop myself from thinking of my bosses at the LSE. Where would I be without you? Not the owner of a semi-famous blog and not an emotional asylum seeker in Southeast Asia..

Anyway here it is … to be delivered by the Members of the LSE Free Speech Group.

Read the rest of this entry »

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In Taiwan foreign brand-names are selling at a premium rate. A large pizza at Domino’s, for example, is 600 NT, that is $18.48 or 9.40 pounds. Compare this with the 50 NT I pay for a first-class lunch at NCTU. Yes, that’s right, one faked pizza is equivalent to 12 authentic Chinese meals!

Who buys pizzas here? Largely people who want to distinguish themselves from other locals and flaunt their foreign credentials — and who can afford to do so. You are what you eat — eat tacky American food, become a tacky American! A person who eats 600 NT foreign food is 12 times more foreign than a regular Chinese person. And 12 times tackier.

It makes you wonder what it’s like to be in charge of Domino’s Taiwanese franchise. Is this a rewarding thing to do with one’s life, to sell greasy pizza to status conscious locals? Shouldn’t the person in charge apologize and go home to the US of A?

But perhaps I am no better. They want me here because I bring that foreign je ne sais quoi to their university. What that is, however, no one really knows. Allegedly they like the educational brands I’ve been associated with. You are what you study — study rehashed foreign ideas taught by a rumpled foreigner and you’ll be “ready for the 21st century.”

Should I apologize and go home? Well, at least I’m not asking for much money. From February next year I’m here full-time and I’ll be a Domino’s pizza for the prize of a bowl of noodles.

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It’s my birthday today. I just turned 46. Happy birthday to me! But I must confess, this is a thoroughly crappy age to be. This is the age when …

• … your concentration begins flagging and your thoughts wander. How much further to go? How far will I make it? There is so little achieved, so much still to prove, and time is slipping away. Like a 1500 meter runner beginning the third lap.
• … you are too old to be young but still young enough to remember recently having been young. You remember that cute chicks noticed you, that fashionable clothes used to fit, that there was more to Saturday nights than an evening in front of the TV.
• … you are too young to be considered wise and respect-inducing. You can’t really look back on past achievements yet and you aren’t a grizzly old geezer or even a dirty old man (but I’m working on that one).
• … it no longer is possible to double your age and pretend that you have half of your life ahead of you. You can still do this at 45. 2 times 45= 90 did not sound impossible. But 2 times 46 = 92 is out of range.
• … even web pages begin to insult you. When registering for a site there are boxes to tick if you are between 18 and 19, 19 and 22, 23 and 28, and even 32- 45. Then there is that residual box covering all the ages between 46 and 105.

But of course, getting older isn’t actually the problem. We all get one year older per year. And under all circumstances that is far better than the alternative … The issue is not whether we get older but what we do with the time we have. The move from London to East Asia was very good in this respect. I would have hated to have looked back on my life and realized I had spent it all in London.

This is a partially consoling thought. But the truth is, 46 sucks.

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The most recent poll attracted an unprecedented 130 voters. As you recall the question was “The American mid-term elections show that …” and the answers:

• … Americans don’t know what’s good for them. 4 %
• … Bush is a lame duck. 4%
• … Hillary should run for president. 2%
• … Americans are finally coming to their senses. 91%

There is consequently a clear liberal bias among the readers of this blog. Shock, horror! Sorry Hillary — in 2008, don’t bother, OK?

I’ve added a new poll which fits better with the season. It should be possible to add your own candidates for songs if you don’t like the ones I picked.

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“Erik,” it was Diane on the phone, “something terrible has happened! Something TERRIBLE!”

Terrible things are always, well, terrible, but as a father of four the word “terrible” has a particular resonance. “Not ‘terrible,’” someone screams inside your head, “anything but ‘terrible.’” My wife spoke in strange disconnected sentences, absent-mindedly yet somehow frantic.

“We’ve been disconnected. The broadband has been down all afternoon.”

So that was it. The strange bill which we couldn’t decipher and which we didn’t know how to pay had turned out to be a broadband bill. And now we were disconnected from the world. Our individual consciousness had been severed from the collective consciousness which is the internet. We were alone, left to our own devices. Forced to, well, talk to each other, to our children, to read books and things.

“We’ll manage,” I said. But as the words left my mouth I realized there was no conviction in them. I sounded like an alcoholic trying to convince himself that he doesn’t want another drink. “Maybe this will mean a new start for us all.”

The next day we went to the phone company. Paying the bill turned out to be really easy and the broadband was back within minutes. We plugged ourselves back in. We calmed down, exhaling contentedly like two drug addicts who finally get their fixes. We never had to try that other life. What a relief.

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It’s a rarely remarked-upon process, and I wouldn’t have noticed it if Diane hadn’t pointed it out, but people in rural areas around the world are turning red-neck. Yes, that’s right, hicks and country bumpkins the world over don cowboy boots and hats and crank up the country music in their pickup trucks as they go off to line-dancing practice. You see men in string-ties in northern Sweden and women in enormous wigs in rural Taiwan– and who’d ever thought people would wear such large belt-buckles in the backwaters of Estonia!

Countrysides were of course always ignored by city-dwellers. Civilization is everywhere a matter of giving hicks the blessings of city-life. The word itself tells the story — “civilization” has its root in civis meaning “city.”

The only exception is the US. It is only in the US that civilization, such as it is, is based on rural values. Americans don’t actually believe in civilization, they believe in rurification. Not surprisingly, countryside types from around the world go for it like a hillbilly farmer goes for his sister. Red-neck culture gives you a way to talk, a way to walk, and a cultural idiom of resistance. So what if you look stupid?

I never cared much for these cultural expressions myself although I suppose my roots in rural Sweden provide me with a license. I chewed tobacco for a while, but I never shot squirrels or demanded that members of the same sex squeal like pigs. Still some of the paraphernalia is pretty cool and here in East Asia it adds an unexpected Occidental twist to the most Orientalist of experiences.

Diane and I spent a memorable evening in Nankai, northeastern Thailand, a few years ago. They had a restaurant on the roof of the hotel where we were staying and a duo was in charge of the entertainment — a Willie Nelson look-alike and Nankai’s own Tammy Wynette with frizzy hair and fuck-me heels. We ate deep-fried rat and red ant egg sallad while the moist midnight air carried the gentle twang of the steel-guitar across the Mekong river. I wonder what the remnants of the Hmong guerrilla over in Laos, on the other side of the Mekong, made of it. Come to think of it, they were probably off line-dancing.

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Yes, I too got dooced in the end, kinda. I just heard from the LSE Summer School people and I don’t get to do a course next year. Since we have to go to London next summer to sell our house, and since I’m still on LSE’s books, teaching a course would have been interesting. I’ve emailed the person in charge trying to find out why they don’t want me, but I have a feeling I know the answer …

I’ve been doing this summer school job for some eight years by now. It’s been great fun and the money paid for my children’s daycare and trips to Sweden. This past summer I had a record number of students and the course got its usual good reviews. Of course they won’t mention my blog in the official statement — they’ll surely invent something else. But I have no doubts: I’m being fired for my rebellliousness and for maintaining this blog.

If you care to reread the LSE Code of Practice on Free Speech, you’ll find it here! Don’t believe what they tell you about academic freedom. Don’t believe what they tell you about conjectures and refutations.

Am I surprised? Of course not. And this provides a befitting conclusion to the LSE chapter in my blogging book. You don’t have street cred unless you’ve been dooced at least once.

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Thanks to my compatriots at Pirate Bay, the collected cultural heritage of mankind is now about to become available to every person with access to the internet. Music, films, tv programs — the lot! With the help of Bittorrent software, all computers everywhere are borrowing files from each other in what surely must be the greatest cultural exchange program ever devised.

Forget the latest Hollywood blockbusters, they leave me cold. What I want are things like Rasta Hunden, a ska-punk band from my days growing up in Sundsvall, northern Sweden. Rasta Hunden had a great record out in 1980 which, for a while, was a minor hit even outside of our dreary industrial wasteland of a town. Sitting here in Taiwan, I rediscovered it and now I can play it to my children while telling them about my misspent youth.

The same goes for a lot of old music. We bought those albums as LPs, we bought them as cassettes, we bought them as CDs. The original artists and their record companies got our money already three times over. It’s not their music anymore, it’s ours.

Besides, the technological innovations which made it possible to continuously charge us for the same products did not originate with the big record or movie companies. They are just profiteering from technological breakthroughs which others have achieved. Sock it to the greedy bastards!

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I went to the annual meeting of the Taiwanese Sociological Association this past weekend. That’s the only professional association of which I’m a member these days. (Adieu science politique – ye cruel mistress). At the conference there were lot’s of papers on subjects ranging from the problems of aging in Shanghai to high-tech industries in India and the future of Chinese-style capitalism.

The last session was on Georg Simmel. A lecture hall packed with students and 5, 6 professors. For some two hours they went through the man, his life and thought, in excrutiating detail. It was very lively; questions, critique and jokes were flying through the air; students were laughing, the professors were strutting their stuff and vigorously disagreeing with each other.

No, Simmel is not dead. He is alive and well and living in Taichung, Taiwan. He has lots of friends here, more friends than he had in his first incarnation. They are young, easily excitable, and they talk about him until their heads start spinning.

It’s weird though. This deification of old Europeans. All intellectual debates in Taiwan seem to concern an old European and what he possibily could contribute to an understanding of topic X or Y. Why is Taiwanese academia so hung up on Europeans? Where for example is the Chinese tradition? It’s just like Taiwanese factories in the end, churching out products invented and designed elsewhere. They are very, very good at it but also pretty unoriginal.

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Have you tried to email me recently without getting a reply? The mail servers here in Taiwan are doing strange things. The IP address I use at home is blacklisted by several computer systems because my ISP, Hinet, is a notorious source of spam. Mail I send bounces back or sometimes it just vanishes into thin air. The mail server at NCTU has given an “IP address possibly forged” message for the last couple of days. Sigh.

Yes, I know, it is grad school application time in the US and many old students want letters of recommendation. If it’s very urgent try leaving a message here on the blog.

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The latest issue of the Journal of World History has my article on giraffes. You can get it here, here or here.

In the 15th century Chinese ships were travelling to Africa and as part of this trade a giraffe appeared at the court of the emperor in Beijing. A few decades later another giraffe appeared in Florence, Italy, as Amerigo Vespucci and his fellow sea captains were preparing to across the Atlantic. There is a puzzle here. In the 15th century, when the Chinese suddenly stopped their overseas discoveries, the Europeans began theirs. My idea is that the two giraffes could help tell us why.

There are already a few references to the article — here and here. Everyone loves reading about giraffes! It was fun writing about them too although I was terrified my LSE colleagues would find out and start suspecting I wasn’t taking my work seriously. Somehow comparative giraffology just isn’t good enough for a political scientist. Now I can finally come out of the closet with my giraffes (and if you ever spent any time in a closet with two giraffes you know how great that feels!)

The secret reason why I wrote this article is that I wanted to make a reference to one of the most amazing book I’ve ever come across in my various readings:

L.C. Rookmaaker, The Rhinoceros in Captivity: A List of 2439 Rhinoceroses Kept from Roman Times to 1994 (The Hague: SPB, 1998)

Now that’s what I call scholarship!

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This is kinda interesting: a list of the recent Google search terms that have taken web-surfers to this site.

• bigpricks
• US PhDs better than UK PhDs
• cecile fabre zlatko PhD take to court
• “sprung a leak”
• unofficial guide to lse
• killing Tony Blair
• eric ringmar lse
• acromegaly in horses
• career day speeches
• “ain’t no altars on this long and lonesome road”
• getting laid in hsinchu
• lse freedom of speech blog
• swedish girls are so beautiful
• US mid-term elections
• dooced from the LSE
• famous lse anthropologists
• what are footnotes and their importance
• howard davies utter fool of himself
• why I hate IKEA

Diane suspects it’s MI5 or the CIA that googles for “killing Tony Blair.” I’m telling her they have more sophisticated methods of catching terrorists. I’m right, aren’t I?

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Of course it’s not actually that Americans suddenly have become left-leaning and European. Americans haven’t really changed. What’s changed is their perception of Bush. What Americans want more than anything is success — economic success for themselves and military success for their country. More than any other people, Americans want to be able to feel good about themselves. This was what Bush couldn’t deliver and that’s why Americans turned on him.

Economic growth and military adventures are also the best ways of concealing growing inequalities in a society. Over the last five years, since ordinary Americans were making a few bucks more per week they didn’t notice that the super rich were stuffing their already overstuffed pockets. Since America was seen to stand up for good things in the world, a few dead soldiers was a price worth paying.

As a country addicted to success, the US will be in very dire straights if there ever is a period of prolonged economic recession or military failure. Say five years of serious difficulties. That day average Americans will suddenly realize what’s been happening to themselves and their country and they will demand retribution. It’s not going to be pretty.

Europeans are better off in this respect. We’ve learned to grit our teeth and bear the humiliation of our countries with a shrug of the shoulders. Since our welfare states are taking care of us we are also less dependent on personal economic success. We do failure with style.

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I’ve finally completed the copyediting and indexing of my Why Europe Was First book. Amazon and other online booksellers announce it as appearing in November 2006. Well, that’s not going to happen, but it looks like an early 2007 launch. That’s fine, the book is not really a stocking-filler anyway.

This is the final version of the cover:

Thanks for all suggestions on the draft for the cover picture. Here is the back-cover blurb:

For most of its history Europe was a thoroughly average part of the world. Poor, uncouth, technologically and culturally backward. By contrast, China was always far richer, more sophisticated and advanced. Yet it was Europe that first became modern, and by the nineteenth century China was struggling to catch up. This book explains why. Why did Europe succeed and why was China left behind? The answer, as we will see, does not only solve a long-standing historical puzzle, it also provides an explanation of the contemporary success of East Asia, and it shows what is wrong with current theories of development and modernization.

Would you buy this book? At $23,07 in the US and 14.00 in the UK maybe someone will. Btw, here are the solicited quotes:

“A thought-provoking and well-written book that provides a unique and idiosyncratic contribution to world history” Professor John M. Hobson, author of Eastern Origins of Western Civilisation, CUP 2004.

“Ringmar provides the most concise and powerful explanation fo these phenomena that I have read, and in enjoyable and skillfully-wrought porse. This is an intellectual feast.” Jack A. Goldstone, Hazel Professor, George Mason University.

Too generous of course, but backcover blurbs are that kind of literary genre. In my defense I should point out that neither of the two are friends (although I briefly met John Hobson at a conference once).

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The results of the American mid-term election are now in. The House is in the hands of the Democrats, the Senate too, Rumsfeld is leaving, Bush is acknowledging that the outcome of the election “has something to do with Iraq.” These results have almost restored my faith in America and its people.

Of course the rest of the world saw the Iraq disaster coming already three years ago. We tried to tell you Americans about it. Three years is a long time in an era of instantaneous communications but the walls that protect Middle America from the rest of the world are also very thick. You Americans don’t know what goes on in the world and as a result you make horrible mistakes. But I’m glad the messages eventually reached you. I’m glad you seem to understand, that you react, try to set things right. You Americans aren’t stupid after all, only about three years too slow.

What must happen now is a thorough investigation of the lies and misrepresentations that led to the invasion. Bush must be impeached. Americans owe it to themselves and to the rest of us. If the crimes of Tony Blair are investigated in the process, democracy in Britain might be restored too.

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The mid-term elections in the US are upon us:

Btw, isn’t it about time Iraqis were given a right to vote in American elections? After all, they are the ones who really feel the impact of what the US government does.

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“I read about you on a Chinese website,” says my friend Chipen. “They got upset since you said that the students at the LSE are very good but that the teachers aren’t that good.” “Well,” I say, “not exactly but …” “You know,” he says, interrupting me, “I went to one of the best highschools in Taichung and we always used to say that the students there were first-rate, the school facilities second-rate, the teachers third-rate and the principal fourth-rate.”

Later in the evening, reading New York Review of Books, I came across an article by J.M. Coetzee on Friedrich Hölderlin. As a boy Hölderlin went to the top seminary in Wurtenberg. “Intellectual stimulus,” Coetzee explains, “came not from his teachers — whom he looked down on for their obsequiousness in the face of authority — but from fellow students, who in his cohort included G.W.F. Hegel and Friedrich Schelling. He himself stood out: ‘It was as if Apollo himself was striding through the hall,’ a classmate recalled.”

These are obviously conclusions that students have drawn in all elite schools everywhere. You could even say that this is a definition of an elite school. It’s a point of logic: unless the students at the best schools go on to become teachers at those same schools, the teachers will always be intellectually inferior to the students.

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Here are two articles I just finished. Academic style — with footnotes and everything.

The first one, “Empowerment among Nations,” is going into a volume on the concept of power in world politics edited by Felix Berenskoetter and Mike Williams. Felix and Mike are PhD students at the LSE, former Millennium editors, and — get this — they got Steven Lukes, Joseph Nye, Ned Lebow, John Gaventa and Joe Grieko to contribute pieces!

The other article, “The Power of Metaphor: Consent, Dissent, Revolution,” I wrote for a volume on Discourse, Identity and Politics in Europe edited by Richard Mole at UCL. The contributors here are a more po-mo kind of crowd. I always wanted to write something on the topic of metaphor and the creation of social order. Here it is.

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Dr Oliver Curry has hit the headlines with a prediction regarding the future of the human race. According to research reported on the BBC, in The Sun, Der Spiegel and just about everywhere else, mankind can look forward to tall women with very pert breasts and womankind can look forward to men with big pricks. Apparently we’ll divide into two subspecies — the tall, genetic, elite and the dwarfish illiterates with low foreheads and even lower IQs. In addition we’ll all be coffee colored.

Oliver Curry is no biologist, he got his doctorate from — of all places — the Government Department at the LSE! His PhD was heavily funded by something called Darwin@LSE which specializes in passing off assorted right-wing bullcrap as scientific research. If you want to know what Dr Curry thinks of women, check this out.

As for racism among LSE staff see this piece in the Guardian (more “evolutionary psychology,” I’m afraid …)

There are lunatics in every discipline but for some reason political science is particularly bad at keeping them in their padded cells. Dr Curry’s PhD supervisor was professor Keith Dowding, who must have been dozing just informed me he was wide awake the day this joker slipped by to get his degree. Dr Curry will no doubt go on proudly displaying his LSE credentials to every media outlet and rightwing think-tank.

Does this prove that the government department at the LSE now has evolved to a stage where it only produces degenerate offspring or was this a freak mutation?

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