Mull of the future?

(Also published on Arc of Prosperity.)

highland village photo
Photo by kingary
I woke up to the crowing of the rooster and the smell of freshly baked croissants.

My butler minion gently opened the door to my bedroom. “Would you like your breakfast in bed, master?” “That’d be great, Bob.”

Bob buzzed in on his wheels and served the croissants together with a gorgeous cup of cappuccino. I’ve spent years searching for the perfect recipe, and I finally found it on a website somewhere in Italy. It was worth the hassle, though. People keep asking me for it, but I’ll not share it for any less than 1kg of scrap copper.

“Master, what would you like for lunch?” asked Bob. “Perhaps a mushroom omelette? Tim found some lovely wild mushrooms in the forest this morning.” I grunted my approval. Tim is my foraging minion, and he always finds the best stuff. At least it sounded a bit more filling that the salads Bob has been feeding me for the past week – I guess my weight is back to where it should be. Not that Bob ever tells me.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” I asked. “You’ve got dairy farm duty from 10 to 12, you’ve got a work meeting at 14.30, and finally you’ve invited your girlfriend for dinner at 19.00.”

I spent the next hour inspecting my home farm. The minions were zooming around me at the same time, collecting eggs, weeding the lettuce and cleaning out the pigsty. I love my home farm.

At 9.50 a car stopped outside the gate, and I strolled out and got in. Yukiko and Pierre, two of my neighbours, were already sitting in it – we do farm duty together. They greeted me with a cheery “Madainn mhath! Ciamar a tha sibh?” and we started chatting in Gaelic. It’s not our native language, and to be honest it probably would be easier to speak English together, but when the founders of our village decided to resurrect the village of Crackaig on the Isle of Mull, they decided that it should be Gaelic-speaking, so it’s now a requirement for moving to the village that you learn the language and use it when interacting with people. Fortunately language-learning is so easy these days – the linguist minions are just sublime language teachers.

At 10 o’clock the car stopped at the dairy farm, and we got out. The car zoomed away, either to park or to drive somebody else somewhere. My grandparents keep telling me that they used to drive cars themselves when they were young. It sounds like a really dangerous and wasteful way of going about it. Computers are obviously much better at driving than humans, and in those days every household had one or more cars, which meant that they spent most of the time being parked. Crazy.

Dairy farm duty is generally pretty easy. The minions do practically all the work, and all we need to do is basically to walk around and talk to the cows – humans can sometimes use their intuition to spot a problem that the minions have overlooked.

This was not one of the easiest days, however. It was time to say goodbye to two of the bulls and hand them over to the butcher minions. I walked with them up the hill, and then the minions led them away into a shed and did their stuff. The minions have perfected bovine psychology, so the bulls didn’t seem to feel any anxiety.

I’ve read that lots of people were going vegetarian or even vegan towards the end of the capitalist era. It was mainly a reaction against factory farming, however, so once people started repopulating the villages and producing almost all their food locally, they started eating meat again. This was reinforced by the realisation that microplastics were destroying the environment, and this led to a complete ban on the use of synthetic materials in clothing and footwear, and having access to leather thus became more important again.

The late capitalist society must have been pretty mad. Instead of feeding your food waste to your animals and letting your cows graze on unproductive stretches of grass, they threw the food waste into landfills and then grew cereals for the sole purpose of feeding animals which they kept in huge factory-like farms. Apparently they even killed many male calves at birth because it would be too expensive to raise them.

In our village most of our clothes are made out of wool, hemp or flax, and we mainly use leather shoes. That’s fairly typical for Scotland, but of course different materials get used in other countries.

I walked home after farm duty and then sat down to enjoy Bob’s delicious mushroom omelette.

Afterwards I stepped into the VR room to commence the work meeting. I’m part of a small team working on carbon capture technology to roll back global warming. We have created a virtual Greek olive grove as our work environment, based on Plato’s Academy. Lots of other people keep telling us that you want walls, chairs and blackboards in order to work efficiently, but we disagree. Sitting on blocks of marble dressed in a toga while munching on olives is great. To make it even more realistic, we’ve decided to adopt Ancient Greek as our working language. Yes, it’s mad, but we need a lot of creativity to come up with better ways to capture carbon, and creativity and madness are of course closely related.

It’s strange to think that schools for so long were mainly places to learn facts and techniques, when today they’re places to bring out everybody’s innate creativity. Of course you need a certain amount of knowledge and skills for your creativity to kick in, but at the end of the day computers are much better at every known task than humans – however, they’re still pretty bad at coming up with the new and surprising answers, and at dealing with new situations. So of course that’s what we humans have to focus on now.

After work I started getting ready for dinner with my girlfriend, Salome. I was going to bring her some flowers from my greenhouse, but in the end I quickly 3D-printed a pair of golden earrings for her using a traditional pattern from Guatemala.

Salome and I were going for sushi in a neighbouring village modelled on a traditional one from Hokkaidō. A lot of people said at the time that a traditional Japanese village doesn’t really belong on the Isle of Mull, but I must admit that it’s really nice to see something completely different without travelling more than 10 km. In fact, the idea is spreading. More and more villages get the builder minions to rebuild everything in some exotic style – just on Mull we’ve now got places that look like they belong in Bavaria, Viking Scandinavia, Māori New Zealand, and the Shire (from The Lord of the Rings books).

Over dinner we discussed whether we should go on holiday to Paris at some point. The old centre is supposed to be stunning, but like all other former cities it’s surrounded by enormous areas of crumbling ruins that still haven’t been converted back to villages and farmland.

At least the former cities aren’t dangerous in Europe. However, in many other parts of the world they never nationalised the land like they did here, so people who didn’t own any land were left practically destitute when the value of labour dropped to nearly zero after capitalism collapsed. They’re now typically living in the skyscraper ruins and trying to make a living selling personal services (mainly sex) to everybody else. It’s horrible, and we’re so lucky in Europe where we introduced a universal basic income early on and then nationalised the land and gave everybody the right to borrow a plot for the rest of their lives.

Of course it would take a while to get to Paris – flying is completely prohibited for holiday purposes – but we could sail there or take a sleeper car, and that’s good fun in its own right.

We took a boat back to Salome’s village. Life on Mull is pretty good.

Population growth in independent countries and Scotland

Two weeks ago, the Better Nation blog contained a posting by Jeff Breslin which contained the following passage:

Perhaps the saddest aspect of Ireland’s current difficulties is the number of bright young things leaving the country for better prospects abroad. One could argue that this isn’t a road that Scotland would want to go down through independence and, yet, that is precisely what is happening now. (I know this from experience as I moved to London strictly because Scotland couldn’t provide the PhD that my partner wished to study. Wales, incidentally, could).

The Irish population in 1961 was 2.8m. The population today is 4.5m.

The Norwegian population in 1961 was 3.6m. The population today is 5.0m.

The Icelandic population in 1961 was 179,000. The population today is 318,000.

The Scottish population in 1961 was 5.2m. The population today is 5.2m.

There is clearly only one stagnant, problem child in the above list and that is because there is an historic, corrosive brain drain taking place in Scotland that is damaging growth from both a population and an economic viewpoint. It is little wonder that ‘London-based parties’, to use an unfortunate phrase, are championing the continuation of the UK when it is London that is the prime beneficiary of this very brain drain.

Kids wanting to get away from it all in Sweden move to Stockholm, kids wanting to get away from it all in Norway move to Oslo and kids wanting to get away from it all in Iceland move to Reykjavik but too many kids wanting to get away from it all in Scotland move to London, and we are haemhorrhaging talent and creativity as a direct result.

I decided to have a closer look at this. Using figures from Wikipedia (look for the articles called Demographics of …), I’ve made two graphs.

The first one (top right) shows the populations of Scotland, Ireland, Denmark and Norway from 1900 to 2010. In 1900, Scotland was by far the most populous country of the four, with almost as big a population as Norway and Denmark combined. Scotland and Ireland had almost stagnant populations for the following decades, while Norway and Denmark grew rapidly. A while after Ireland became independent, the Irish population suddenly exploded, and it has now almost caught up with Denmark. Scotland seems to have experienced modest growth after the introduction of the Scottish Parliament in 1999.

The other graph (on the left) adds Sweden and England, but instead of using absolute numbers, the graphs are relative to the populations in 1900.

The second graph clearly shows a difference between non-independent Scotland and pre-independence Ireland on one hand, and the independent countries (or the dominant part of the union, in the case of England) on the other.

If Scotland had experienced the same relative population growth as Denmark since the year 1900, the population in 2010 would have been around 10.1m instead of 5.2m. Would this have happened if Scotland had regained her independence under Queen Victoria, or are there other reasons why Scotland would never have been as fertile as Denmark?

En analyse af zarka-kulli-sproget

(Opdatering: Den seneste version findes nu her).

I anledning af min fødselsdag i går sås flg. dialog på Facebook:

Lars Ræder Clausen: Emfle birnan smörja dunku! “Tillykke med det ekstra år!”
Simon Kristensen: Kulli waflu? “Hvad ville alternativet være?”
Thomas Widmann: Zarka gunku, zarka gunku! “Mange tak, mange tak!”

Dette sprog er også kendt fra vers 11 i sang nummer 57 i TÅGEKAMMERETs Jubilæumssangbog (PDF):

Vi kan ikke lide folk fra lingvistik. . .
Kulli waf?i zarka gunku
em?e birnan smöja dunku.

Betydningen af dette vers har længe været ukendt, men der er jo et stort overlap her. Læg dog mærke til de subtile forskelle: Lars sagde “smörja”, hvor sangen har “smöja”, og Simon sagde “waflu”, hvor sangen har “waffli”. Vi må antage, at dette ikke er slåfejl, men sprogligt signifikante forskelle.

Hvis vi antager, at sangen har flg. betydning, falder alt på plads: “Alternativet gør os ikke glade, det er tidsspilde med det ekstra år” (sangen refererer her til det ikke-indoeuropæiske propædeutiske sprog, der indtil for nylig forlængede lingvisters studium med op til et år).

Her er analysen af vores korpus:

“Tillykke med det ekstra år.”
“Hvad ville alternativet være?”
“(Det) gør (mig) glad.” (Den normale måde at sige “tak” på.)
“Alternativet gør ikke glad.”
“(De har) spildt tiden med det ekstra år.”

-a suf (danner perf. part.)
-an suf med
birn sb år
dunk sb tid
emfle adj ekstra
gun- vb at gøre
-i suf (markerer nominativ)
-ja suf af (markerer genitiv)
-ku suf (præsens)
kull sb alternativ
-lu suf ville være (copula subj.)
smöj- vb at spilde
smör sb lykke
-u suf (markerer akkusativ)
waffli adv ikke
waf interrog. pron. hvad
zarka adj glad

Vi kan nu skrive nye nyttige ting på dette smukke sprog, fx:

Smöri wafku? “Hvad er lykke?”
Zarka kullian birni “Et år med glade alternativer”
Waffli dunku smöjku! “Du spilder ikke tiden!”

(2. reviderede udgave – nu med nominativ og akkusativ.)

From each according to his ability, to each according to his need

Fathers 4 Justice
Originally uploaded by minifig

The CoLD coalition’s new proposal on legal aid in England is quite scary, given that so many people will be unable to go to the courts even when the law is completely on their side, simply because the cannot afford to.

However, legal aid was already unavailable to lots of people who couldn’t realistically pay the lawyer’s fee (without having to sell their home).

The way I see it, the price for going to the courts should depend on your ability to pay – it shouldn’t be limited to rich people and those on legal aid. Ideally, it should be free if the courts decide you’re in the right, and cost a certain percentage of your wealth/income if you’re in the wrong.

The same goes for compensations received. It’s ludicrous that you can get more money for the same injury if it was the fault of a big corporation than if it was caused by a poor person – to the injured, the consequences are the same.

The solution would be to pool everything: All legal fees and damages should be determined by people’s ability to pay and put into one massive pot, and compensations should come out of this according to need.

In that way, nobody would we priced out of using the legal system, and nobody would lose their home or become instant millionaires depending on the outcome of a court case.

Are we related to people born before 1575?

Babbitt Family Tree
Originally uploaded by FrodoBabbs

While sampling some nice beer in Århus earlier this year with my good old friend Thomas Mailund, we had an interesting discussion about how long our genes live on for.

I was reminded of this discussion when I managed to find my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather on Google. His name was Georg Widmann, and he was born around 1532 in Heiningen in Württemberg.

However, as I discussed a few years ago, we get half our genes from our father and the other half from our mother; we therefore get 25% from each grandparent, 12.5% from each great-grandparent, etc., so when do we reach a point when there’s nothing left?

According to Wikipedia, the “haploid human genome contains ca. 23,000 protein-coding genes”. 23,000 can be halved 14.49 times, which equals around 435 years (at a generation length of 30), and this means that any ancestor born before the year 1575 is likely to have contributed less than one gene to our genome. (Georg is of course an exception – ignoring the possibility of adultery and mutations, my Y chromosome is an exact copy of his.)

One can look at the numbers differently, too. Genes are defined by the “2.9 billion base pairs of the haploid human genome”. 2,900,000,000 can be halved 31.43 times, taking us back 943 years to the year 1157, but that will include ancestors who have only contributed junk DNA.

The “human genome contains vast regions of DNA the function of which, if any, remains unknown. These regions in fact comprise the vast majority, by some estimates 97%, of the human genome size.” 3% of 2.9 billion base pairs is 87 million base pairs, which would take us back 791 years to the year 1219.

However, the “nucleotide diversity between humans is about 0.1%, which is 1 difference per 1,000 base pairs.” That would take us down to 87,000 base pairs that actually matter, and that number can be halved 16.41 times, which would take us back 492 years to the year 1608.

To conclude, I’m not absolutely sure what the cut-off point should be. There’s definitely no point in doing genealogy further back than the year 1157 (except for pure patrilineal and matrilineal descent), but there are good arguments also for stopping in 1219, 1575 or 1608.

Changing England’s borders

One of the main reasons there are so many people in favour of separate parliaments for Scotland, Wales, England and Northern Ireland is that England is dominating the UK so heavily.

Just look at the pie chart on the right – England constituted 84% of the UK’s population in 2001.

I therefore decided to investigate some ways of fixing the English problem by changing England’s borders. I’ve mainly used the English Regions for the following maps and figures.

My first idea was to extend Scotland (adding Cumbria and the North-East) and Wales (adding Cornwall and the rest of the South-West), bringing both up to about eight million inhabitants.

It’s nowhere near enough, though – England is still more than big enough to run the show undisturbed.

To make this approach work, I guess Scotland would have to be extended all the way down to the Humber, and Wales would have to encompass the West Midlands, but that would completely undermine the Scottishness of Scotland and the Welshness of Wales.

My second idea was to split England into East and West along a line extending down from the Pennines, but that isn’t enough, either: East England would be able to run the show on their own (but only just – moving a few counties such as Hampshire from East to West would take the East down under 50%).

One might also argue that Cumbria is much more similar to Northumberland than to Somerset, so it might not be a very natural split.

I also wonder whether London would dominate the East so strongly that the genuine needs of the peripheral areas would be completely overlooked.

Another option would be to create a Greater London by merging London with the East and South East of England. This would actually work fairly well – although Greater London would be a lot less populous than the Rest of England, it would probably be able to hold its own given the way London dominates the whole of the UK.

This might also be a very good way for the remainder of England to build up a identity separate from London, perhaps centred around Manchester or Birmingham.

Finally, I tried to recreate the Danelaw. This would actually balance the two halves of England very neatly and would from a mathematical point of view be the best solution. However, it would place London on the border (just south of it, to be precise), and I’m not sure whether that’d be a good or a bad thing.

From the point of view of Danelaw, its economy would be hugely influenced by London (and many people would be commuting from Danelaw into London), but it wouldn’t have any influence on over it.

From the point of view of non-Danelaw England (Wessex?), it would completely dominated by London, although it would be in periphery.

Vale, Hans H. Ørberg!

Jeg opdagede først i dag, at Hans H. Ørberg afgik ved døden den 17. februar i år, 89 år gammel.

Han var forfatter til det fantastiske latinkursus Lingua Latina per se illustrata, som formår at lære den interesserede elev latin uden at bruge andre sprog end latin overhovedet.

Denne måde at skrive sprogkurser på (“Naturmetoden”) var ikke Ørbergs egen opfindelse (se nedenfor), men han forfinede den og holdt fast i den, da den ellers var ved at gå i glemmebogen.

Jeg overvejede en overgang at skrive speciale om Naturmetoden, og jeg udvekslede derfor et par emails med ham. I maj 2001 skrev han flg. til mig:

Arthur M. Jensen er idémanden bag naturmetoden især inspireret af Otto Jespersen og den ‘direkte metode’, men han har mig bekendt aldrig skrevet noget om den teoretiske baggrund for metoden – selv henviste han altid til sit forord til det engelske (og franske) kursus. Han har heller ikke selv formået at praktisere metoden i synderlig grad, for hans forfatterskab indskrænker sig vistnok til de indledende, temmelig indholdsløse kapitler af ‘Engelsk efter Naturmetoden’, resten er, så vidt jeg véd, skrevet af hans datter Thurid Grièse (og hendes mand?) og for en del af Knud Schibsbye; det franske kursus er skrevet af Oleg Koefoed (bortset fra kap. 1-8, som Thurid Grièse har ansvaret for), og det italienske og russiske kursus er helt igennem skrevet af Oleg Koefoed. Alligevel står Arthur M. Jensen som forfatter på titelbladet! Det ønskede han også på det latinske kursus, som han knap nok har gennemlæst, men det protesterede jeg imod. Da jeg forelagde ham mit første udkast i 1952 foreslog jeg titlen ‘Lingua Latina per se illustrata’, men det blev afvist til fordel for ‘Lingua Latina secundum naturae rationem explicata’ (ordet ‘naturmetoden’ skulle indgå i titlen).

Selv er jeg ikke nogen teoretiker, praksis er for mig det vigtigste (og det skal ikke nægtes at det var en hård opgave at tilpasse denne form for direkte metode så den kunne praktiseres på et grammatisk sprog som latin), men i de foredrag jeg har måtte holde om mit latinkursus ved forskellige lejligheder, har jeg prøvet at formulere principperne for hvad jeg kalder ‘kontextuel induktion’ – sidste gang 19. maj i år ved en konference for franske latinlærere i Paris. […]

Arthur M. Jensen var først og fremmest forretningsmand og hans virksomhed ‘The Nature Method Institutes’ havde stor succes i mange europæiske lande, hovedsagelig med det engelske kursus. Jeg var fast medarbejder 1952-61 med den opgave at skrive kursus i latin. Da det var helt færdigt i 1957, arbejdede jeg med metodisk kontrol af Oleg Koefoeds italienske og russiske kursus foruden med følgemateriale til og revision af det latinske. I 1961 søgte jeg tilbage til gymnasieskolen (Ordrup Gymnasium) og kom i 1963 til Grenå. Herfra samarbejdede jeg med Erik Hoder og Knud Schibsbye om en tiltrængt revision af det engelske kursus, som ikke nåede at blive gennemført.

Arthur M. Jensen døde i slutningen af 60’erne og virksomheden blev først videre af hans yngre kompagnon Erik Hoder, som længe havde været den egentlige leder. Erik Hoder døde i 1975, og derefter gik det rask tilbage for virksomheden, som helt ophørte i løbet af 80’erne. Derfor kan man nok ikke få naturmetodekurserne i de moderne sprog idag (især det italienske kursus er fortrinligt).

Som det ses, var der ikke skrevet meget lingvistisk om metoden, så jeg opgav at skrive speciale om den.

Lige siden har jeg dog ment, at det er en stor fejl, der ikke findes Naturmetode-kurser i alle sprog. Jeg brugte selv et tilsvarende kursus til at lære esperanto med, “Esperanto la? Naturmetodo/Esperanto la? Metodo Friis” (den anden titel blev vist taget i brug, da Friis opdagede, han ikke han lov til at bruge varemærket “Naturmetoden”), og det var også fremragende.

Hans H. Ørberg er nok død, men hans værk vil leve i meget lang tid!