Black Racists!

None of us is born a racist. Early accounts make it clear that when our forefathers first met they were bright-eyed and curious, even admiring.

Look at what Father Guy Tachard wrote of Khoikhoi in 1685: “They are faithful, and the Dutch give them free access to their houses without fear of being robbed by them. They are charitable and helpful, although they possess scarcely anything. When given something that can be divided, they share it with the first of their fellows they meet: they even seek out their companions with this intention, and they usually keep the smallest portion for themselves.” And de la Loubère in 1698: “They are so nimble that many of them can outrun a horse. They are good shots with bows and arrows, and courageous almost to recklessness. At times they even overcome a lion, provided they have enough skins or old clothing to protect their left arm; this they thrust into the animal’s jaws, and stab him with a spear or knife held in the right hand.”

And then the first encounters with Xhosa: John Barrow in 1797, “There is perhaps no nation on earth that produces so fine a race of men as the Kaffers: they are tall, stout, muscular, well made, elegant figures,” John Shipp in 1799, “The Caffres are certainly a most formidable enemy. They are such expert marksmen with their darts [assegais] that they can be certain of their aim at sixty, or seventy, paces distant,” William Holden in 1866, “They have outwitted our ablest governors, our most astute diplomatists, and our very acute officers and magistrates. They are equal to any English lawyers in discussing questions which relate to their own laws and customs.”

We become racist. It is only with time that we absorb ignorant prejudice, or learn informed tolerance, and these can become cultural norms. By adulthood, we are all touched by racism, and we need to accept that we are all racists to a degree. We all have prejudice no matter how hard we try. Admit it. I do.

Whether you are black, white, asian, polynesian or anyone else, you have prejudice, and no one is innocent. Racism is a characteristic of our species and it will never go away. In some societies, prejudice determines the national outlook. In others, racial tolerance is developed to such a high degree that differences can be ascribed to cultural and economic disparities, and that respect, dignity and opportunity are accorded to all people, in law and socially. Informed racial tolerance as opposed to ignorant prejudice, and not an absence of racism, is the skill that will bring peace - even in a historically racist society.

Racism is usually manufactured. During that most racist of centuries, the Twentieth, two ethnically almost identical European neighbours fought a war of annihilation over a manufactured ethnic principle - which scientifically was complete bullshit.

I want to talk about manufactured South African bullshit.

First of all I want to say to blacks – strangers, those I know, and my friends: you are racist too, and are part of the problem. A big part… sorry if I hurt your feelings. Of course, white ideological racism was originally to blame, based on ill-informed pseudo-science and pseudo-history floating around in the Nineteenth Century, and it should not have survived so long or become institutionalised. Our forefathers’ wars were essentially territorial and not racial. That came later. While racial prejudice certainly existed, many people chose to overcome it (and were free to do so) and there were alliances and intermarriage - even mutual admiration.

Ideologies however are dangerous and powerful things and become deeply rooted “truths”. The biggest tragedy of white racist ideology in South Africa is that its victims came to believe it, and now are unable to let it go. This is the crux of the matter, and our biggest challenge - black acceptance and belief in racist ideas. Today, to be sure, some white South Africans cling to a bitter and dangerous ideological intolerance, and probably some always will. Its embarrassing to other whites. But they will always be near, and I guess the best thing is to ignore them and watch them hopefully diminish. But we must never let the intolerance of others determine our own generalisations.

Most whites have worked hard on their tolerance in this country, truly. During the Mandela years harmony seemed feasible. Unfortunately blacks were content to be the recipients of this gesture without realising that their own resentments were unrestrained. Today these resentments are seething and they provoke and feed a growing, brand new white racism. Unscrupulous politicians are using it to great effect, like Julius Malema who has done this country terrible, terrible harm.

The older ANC generation is fixated on the past. They copy the extinct Soviet dinosaurs at whose feet they once sat. We see this in many of their actions – their reckless brinkmanship; the idea that the struggle never ends; the creation of a spiritual figurehead (Mandela) for the ideology; the noisy spin that hides inaction; the compulsion to centralise government; the non-representational party list system; the raising of Party above State and their drive towards a one party state; their isolated elitism; the piecemeal erosion of the constitution; and their high-speed motorcades. It is all so very Soviet – and so passé!

In 2012 the ANC is still blaming Apartheid and racism for everything, like a stuck record! Well, I think its time now that they accept responsibility for the recent past, the present and future. How convenient it must be though, to govern and never have to be accountable! But the truth is that the ANC has for nearly 20 years signally failed to satisfy its electorate or establish a healthy economy let alone state. To hide its failure and shame, it has begun loudly reviving racism in a campaign to scapegoat whites, as if they are actively working to make black lives miserable.

This is wrong! We whites bought into the idea of a collective sacrifice as reparation to redress the past, and bowed willingly to BEE and Affirmative Action. It was a free choice. But we did assume our contribution would be used with the greatest good faith and wisdom. That was the spirit of that time, and it was, in effect, a wonderful and inspiring agreement between those whites present who were responsible for Apartheid, and those blacks who suffered from it. But so far, it seems, a whole generation’s worth of compensation for Apartheid has been wasted, and I ask: how much damn longer? If the contribution is not being used as agreed, it amounts to a breach of contract and I see no reason to continue. Remember this was never a pile of ready cash. It is the result of hard work by millions of people for nearly twenty years. Its starting to look as if good money is to be cast after bad in perpetuity – or until something breaks. Isn’t it time to change tack?

I’m just an ordinary man. I’m in my forties and have lived in two kinds of South Africa. I am no longer sure which has been worse; they are starting to look the same. My family opposed Apartheid actively, but we were not the only ones, and we also had relatives who supported it. This is the reality of this land. I have been in opposition much of my life and I don’t expect anything else. Being on the winning side is not as important as being on the correct side – in a democracy, balance is more important than victory. I went to the army as a young unwilling conscript, and I fought against foreign enemies. I never despised the ANC. I always regarded them as South Africans with whom we would hopefully one day make peace, and actually, some of their high ideals could have been mine. I just never imagined that they would themselves turn out to be racists.

It is noteworthy that one of the first actions of the ANC on assuming power was to keep racial classification in documentation (Nice Mr. Mandela was president). If you thought that official racism was put to bed in 1994, take a good hard look. It is still with us. The aim is that through BEE and Affirmative Action, whites are to be made to work for blacks, forever – or if you have you noticed a time limit to these programs, please tell me. To make this morally feasible, and happen, the accusation of racism needs to be renewed and kept alive in peoples’ minds. The ANC spares no effort keeping racism alive, thereby nurturing white guilt. If something can be turned into a race issue it will be, in the grand theatre of the media.

I am starting to think that without racism the ANC is nothing; and that mobilising the majority against a minority is decidedly fascist. It reminds me of the Nazis and the Jews. Racism is to the ANC what The Total Onslaught was to the Nationalists in the 1980s, a call to arms and an election winner. And yet all the while, millions of South Africans just want to live out their ordinary lives in reasonable comfort and without drama. In a world where economic stability is all that really counts.

I reject utterly the idea of collective guilt.

Apartheid is history and everyone under the age of 40 was a child or unborn during Apartheid. It may no longer be used as an excuse for the government’s failures. Every day fewer whites are to blame, and most already are not. Sins of the fathers? Spare me. The ANC have had a good chance to improve South Africa for nearly twenty years now, and honestly? They have wasted it in a welter of chaos and corruption. But my first position is that I will never emigrate. I am of this land and feel this deeply and spiritually, and this is what motivates me now to say things as they are. I want to help bring clarity and fairness to this circus that South African politics has become. The government, in the name of democracy and non-racialism, have damaged them badly, concentrating the land’s wealth among a smaller group of billionaires than even during Apartheid (but black billionaires this time), while the poor have become worse off with all services failing. They have damaged democracy and brought South Africa to the threshold of being a failed state. Indeed some say it already is a failed state; it survives on diminishing reserves and natural resources, and the final uphill battle of private enterprise. Be absolutely clear that we are following the path of Zimbabwe, our government’s ally.

If we wipe away the splatter of wrong perceptions we should be able to see that the country’s ills are to be blamed largely on racism’s products: not whites, or blacks, but on a black victim complex, black moral entitlement, and an aid mentality, for the white economic windfall is exactly like foreign aid. We have a culture of dependency, because blacks do not really need to be self-accountable. Instead you expect support from the state, and school education results seem to prove this. It seems black school kids lack the ambition to seize the huge potential rewards the economy offers and that are available to absolutely anyone who tries. Thus, except as passive labour, you are taking little part in developing the economy. The ANC seems not to give a fig for education, because of two apparently inexhaustible and reliable sources of wealth that are available to those in power: natural resources, and the white goose that lays the golden eggs.

This short-sighted state of mind is rather like not worrying about having a car accident because insurance and hospitals will make things right again. Good in theory but in reality we get hurt. And to use another silly analogy, to dispel what I see as a common black perception of capital as an inexhaustible lake: capital is like a herd of cattle. If you do not look after them, or slaughter them too quickly, they will cease to exist. And if you prevent the herdsmen from enjoying milk and meat, they will lose interest and wander off into the hills, and you will have to spend all day looking after the cattle yourselves. Do you know how? Learn fast.

I had a relative living in Bali, not a typical expat long term vacationer, but rather more embedded, in a small peasant village. An odd situation, but nevertheless… I went there a couple of times, and sank into the hospitality of these traditional good people. I ate pig skin stew and durian stew. I went to tooth-filing and scary god-invoking ceremonies. I had wounded, living, yet decomposing dogs strolling into my bedroom at night, and spent my days in the company of Wayan and his brother Nyoman and their friends. And I worked out that these aesthetic people subsist on about R1.20 a day.

And yet, poverty is not apparent. Though each family member of almost any age works a long day carving wooden figurines for tourists, or weaving, or tending rice, or washing restaurant dishes, to gather in the R1.20 needed for each member, there is still time for dwelling compounds to be tidy and embellished with homemade artwork and fresh religious offerings. Their clothes though old are always immaculately presented, and they spend hours turning the many religious occasions into social events of bright colour, music and happiness. They have pit latrines and wash in rivers. They make an effort of life, knowing that if they don’t, no one else ever will or even give a damn.

This, after centuries of Dutch colonisation. So please, please, don’t let me hear you blame colonialism. Its so tired already.

The rewards of the Balinese people’s efforts are a learning amazement to foreign visitors. Its worth going there, just to experience the robust positivity. That is all they possess… what is the meaning of life, anyway? When I cast my mind once from that island across to dusty, squalid, demanding Africa, it seemed, perhaps simplistically, that I understood. Poverty is a state of mind. Poverty is helplessness. Poverty is blaming someone else. Poverty is sitting on your arse when you should get up and do something. I admit there are many other important aspects to this argument not presented here, but years of experience, new ideas and thought have not moved me very far from this basic position. Poverty can end quickly when a state does something large and effective about it, and this usually means enabling people to unleash and focus their constructive energies.

On this dusty continent we whites seem willing to continue to sacrifice more and more effort and reserves to a diverging, sinking, demanding majority, while all the time our own returns and living standards shrink. At what point will the goose become so thin that the golden eggs just stop? You blacks, in your dependency, will in the end only harm yourselves. Many whites, till 20 years ago, were responsible for Apartheid (and I say till 20 years ago because they have been redressing it ever since and I feel the debt is just about paid). Today some still cling to economic advantages inherited from Apartheid, but taking these away will bring no advantage to anyone else. Finger-pointing and blaming is ultimately counterproductive, as only the future now matters.

ALL South Africans of ALL races are today jointly responsible for our future. Even if you still believe that all whites will always owe all blacks something, so what? In the end its not do-able. In the end, white capital and effort will fail, whites will either join the desperate poor or wander off into those foreign hills, and South Africa will be a basket case, flung back to the stone age, or rather, to something like an overpopulated, pre-colonial famine. Is the motive for squeezing whites merely revenge? Or do you want some of the cattle? In that case, breed your own, for this is the gift of freedom. Its what whites are doing. Do you want something good to come from it all? We whites thought something good was going to come from it, but its just not happening!

Whatever you believe, one solid truth is that all South Africans need to start pulling on the same rope. Blacks, you need to take a sober look at the world economy and strive to join it. Drop the fake smiles and begging hands. Demand, and get, not aid but a good education, do well in school and stop being victims. You are free people in a free country in the Free World, and like everyone else in it you have none to blame but yourselves. Stand up and be accountable. Make yourselves wealthy. You can.

And whites? You are in a democracy now, so let your voice be heard. Stop apologising, like Max du Preez! Be loudly oppositional – not to blacks, but to racism, and false accusations of racism, and bad policy. Refuse to feel guilty anymore, especially all of you under 40. Its fucking over already. Your guilt only makes you democratically ineffective, unable to be creative, unsettled in your own country. Resist racist classification and legislation; resist unfair property rates, taxation and land redistribution. Man up. It’s the democratic way.

I often daydream frustratedly about a fair and moderately prosperous democratic society, not what our ANC has given us, nor even what it promised. All they do is talk. My daydream sees no reference to race in the workplace, nor in taxation, nor socially. In it, democracy is representational and MPs live in their small constituencies and speak out for them in parliament. In it, politicians are not allowed links to business. In it, merit counts. To make this work, the poor would be identified not in terms of their colour, but in terms of their capacity to earn and the opportunities that their physical communities provide. They would be assisted by work-finding agencies in a flexible, enabling labour economy.

To defeat poverty, excellent education really would become the central concern, to instil a culture of confidence, accountability and capability. This is the true cure for poverty.

You should be proud of whoever you are, and I take that away from no one.

Unholy fascination - a brief overview of the AK-47

My interest in firearms grew out of a general fascination for European military history of most periods, particularly the development of warfare and tactics through the Classical Period, Migration Era, the Norman influence on Mediaeval warfare, the Napoleonic Wars and Modern warfare.

I was struck at an early age by the interaction of culture and new technologies with modes of fighting – which ultimately means weapons and equipment and their uses. A higher technology and organized use of it always gave peoples the edge over their opponents; competition demanded the improvement of technology; and technology transformed the activity (or organization) of warfare. In all this I find three subjects of particular interest.

One is the advance of pre-industrial metallurgy from around early Roman times, until the birth of refined alloyed steel production around 1100 A.D., in other words, hammer- or pattern-welding of swords, axes and spears together from small smelted iron ingots of different consistency. This process required high skill and was expensive, and thus gave politico-military pre-eminence to wealthier classes. I possess some swords, and intend to collect superb pattern-welded replicas from such modern master-smiths as Paul Binns (www.paul-binns-swords.co.uk).

The second is the design history of the tank, whose form follows function perhaps most faithfully of all man-made artifacts, balancing mobility, firepower and armour.

The third is the evolution of the assault rifle through the submachine-gun - service rifle debate that preoccupied the first half of the Twentieth Century, which found its culmination in an effective combination of the two, in both form and ammunition caliber adjustments.

Specifically, this subject focuses on the AK-47.

The AK-47 family of weapons, evolving over fifty years and still continuing, may be used to demonstrate, by analogy, a thesis of parallels with phenomena observed in evolution both in the natural world of physics and biology, and in all man-made artifacts. The phenomena are “speciation”, linear, circular and reverse evolution, complexification and stagnation. While at the same time the AK-47 group arouses admiration, it also in the final analysis succumbs to conservatism and fails to take us further – to a new generation of small arms and fighting culture.

My grandfather (O. G. Davies) was a colonel in the SAAF during World War Two. He sparked an intense interest in reading on the subject, which found its ultimate focus on the epic struggle between Germany and the Soviet Union on the Eastern front. Though a large part of this history is played by the relative organization and application of human resources, weapons development was also paramount.

My membership of 61 Mechanised Battalion of the SADF in 1982, when I was in combat myself as a mechanized infantryman in Angola, brought the context of personal experience. Thus I am interested in infantry skirmishing techniques, armour warfare, and their combination; but I especially came into contact with the reality, and the mythology, of the AK-47. I began to reflect on its origins and its practicality for modern war.

It was in purchasing hunting ammunition in the last years of the 1990s that I had the idea of a collection of military weapons – never an intention previously. A semi-automatic (modified) AK-47 Type 66 of Norinco (Chinese) manufacture was on sale in a Cape Town gun shop. I recognized its historical significance as an early mark, and conceived the idea of a collection that traces the historical development of this family of weapons, which has become very widespread and diverse – and with a wide scope in itself. This weapon thus became the seed core of the intended collection, and I quickly saw it as defining the collection too. Since then my interest in the AK-47, its development and evolution has grown and expanded.

While my main interest is those weapons that have actually passed trials and been adopted for the Russian armed forces (in other words, been shaped by the uncompromising reality of warfare), there are numerous side branches – secondary forms that have been discarded at prototype stage or been used for purposes other than the military; and these are nevertheless interesting in the context of the evolution of the weapon.

In contemplating the scope of the future collection, it was important to determine some restrictions. Firstly, it was important to realize that the AK-47 was itself a direct product of the experience of the Second World War, and might be thought of as merely an upgrade, in a war that was ongoing. Therefore, precedents were to be found mainly in that war, seldom earlier. It may be that mechanical design ideas were drawn from by the design teams that originated in much earlier types, but they had to be excluded (it is to be remembered that the AK-47 was not, as some believe, a spontaneous original design, but went through many changes while still on the drawing board, as existing ideas were sifted and discarded by many designers and review teams). The influences that produced it were literally in the hands of the designers during the war years, and came from both German, and Russian, as well as Western Allied (lend-lease), armouries. The Soviets were never ashamed to borrow or steal.

Precedents include the main infantry small arms either carried by Soviet troops, or enemy weapons which were enviously admired. It might be thought admissible to include such weapons as the Mosin-Nagants and the Mausers G98 and K98, but these are of only unrelated interest to me as they do not substantially differ from thousands of other bolt action rifles around the world. The focus should be on integrated, blowback or gas operated small arms such as the Fedorov Avtomat and StG44 (if available!), PPSh-41 etc.

Since the end of the Second World War until the present day, the basic form, or typology of the AK-47 has undergone several main strategic improvements as the Soviets, and subsequently the Russians, have restructured their fighting ability. These improvements centre around caliber options, accuracy, tactics, production issues and portability / ergonomics. But during each phase, too, numerous adjustments have been made for specialized needs, and cheap mass-production particularly brought in new forms not just in the Soviet Union but among its satellites and allies of the Cold War.

Added to this, the mechanical typology (the typology of a spoon being equivalent to the typology of a pot – each having the elements container and handle) has been used to produce new weapons that are not assault rifles, but are other forms, for example light machine-guns, submachine-guns, sniper rifles and specialist weapons for limited special needs.

The AK-47 has also been copied by other nations to produce entirely new assault rifle identities, recognizably unique in form but adhering to the same mechanical typology. For example: the Israeli Galil group and descendents.

All these many categories are admissible in the collection, if their typology adheres to the requirement, namely, a box-shaped receiver containing a rolling bolt in a bolt-carrier, fused to a long stroke gas piston in a cylinder above the barrel; a captive return spring assembly; a dust cover / safety lever; and having large clearance between the bolt group and the receiver walls.

A cautionary note has to be made regarding the many unauthorised copies or replicas that are being made by civil manufacturers for commercial consumption, particularly in the USA. These fall outside the parameters of the collection.

The currently in-vogue bullpup forms and variations are also to be excluded. To me they are a side issue, the theoretical advantage of a long barrel within a short overall length not being borne out by significant combat superiority, while designs suffer from over-complexity.

To return now more specifically to the thesis of evolutionary parallels, one may note the “speciation” of the weapon in an environment of specific stresses and demands, creating a product radically different to all that had gone before; to a linear improving evolution through successive similar types as the martial environment altered through the Cold War years; the circular evolution beginning in a blowback submachine-gun era, through the assault rifle, and ending in modern gas operated submachine-guns having greater complexity, lower rate of fire, and that are arguably inferior in certain design comparisons (doing less with more); complexification embodied in the Nikonov AN-94 Abakan, which while undeniably remarkable as a design feat and as a weapon, depends for its existence on forgiveness in an industry not known for it – it has some obvious faults, like the eccentrically weighted magazine and the fact that greater penetrating power can be provided simply by changing ammunition; and the stagnation and conservatism that have given us the highly accessorized yet fundamentally unaltered AK-200.

What is highly interesting is that in the stringent trials for an assault rifle for the Red Army, the AK-47 was not the leading contender in all categories. In fact it performed poorly when it came to accuracy and especially so in full automatic mode, always the primary mode in Russian military doctrine. The Bulkin AB-46 / TKB-415 came first in this category, but was finally rejected in favour of the AK-47’s superior durability and reliability. It was considered more astute to start production on the reliable and production-ready AK-47 and improve its accuracy in successive types. With hindsight, it might have been better to commit to other options sooner; the AK group’s relative inaccuracy has been a constant issue until the present day.

This discussion may further be expanded to concede the effects of the politics, socioeconomics, the demand economy, fashion and culture of the Russian people, technological constraints, as well as the actual personalities and group dynamics of the design teams and their masters.

It has to be admitted at once that opportunity plays a part in the selection and purchase of collectables. Desired items may never become available or be too expensive, and conversely, affordability and availability may include an unexpected item in the collection. So, opportunity is thus a criterion, and may be allowed to extend the parameters slightly, although the basic rules apply.

This said, I have formulated the following needs:-

1.    The weapon should have a service history. It should have been used in a historical context, a particular war or incident, or have belonged to earmarked for a notable unit or person. It should not be new, nor be a copy produced for civilian markets, although for certain rare forms, or types still classified within Russia, exceptions may be made.

2.    It must be definitively a Type, recognizable as such with clear markings and manufacturing history.

3.    It must be in relatively good condition, a good example of the Type. (For example, I possess a PPSh-41, which has original flaws in the metal of the block. This makes it more interesting, as it is evidence of the stresses of both uncritical hurried manufacture, and over-use during WW2. This makes it better than a copy).

4.    The weapon must be semi-automatic or converted to semi-automatic.

5.    The weapon must specifically be a direct WW2 precedent of the AK-47, an AK-100 series rifle, or be a submachine-gun, light machine-gun, sniper rifle or special needs weapon derived from the AK typology.

6.    Unlicensed copies or adaptations by other nations’ militaries are admissable.

7.    It is preferable that the weapon has passed the litmus test of being the weapon of choice for a national military, and is not merely a version produced for commercial reasons.

Certain key weapons are particularly desirable for this collection. These are the main stages of the weapon’s evolution, as well as extreme variations, even if these have not yet been adopted for the Russian military. In defining the scope of this collection, these items, specifically are:

Fedorov, the earliest assault rifle produced

PPSh-41, the main WW2 infantry sub-machinegun

SSK, SVT-40, M1 Carbine, early self-loading rifles

Stg.44, the German WW2 assault rifle, the earliest in active use

AK-47, AKM, AK-74, AKS-74, AKS-74U – the AK group in linear development

The balanced action AK-107/108

The remarkable blowback shifted pulse AN-94 Abakan

PP-19 Bizon and SR-3 submachine-guns as examples of this adaptation

RPK, RPK-74 light machine-guns

SVD Dragunov quick-firing sniper rifle.

=

I learned several years ago to interpret the world in terms of critical reality. Whatever views you yourself espouse, there will be instances when all other formulations are discarded, like if you are caught in the hills in a hailstorm, or are being herded toward a gas chamber, or are attacked by lions. Our responses are emphatic, immediate and final; to declare, as did the rabbi at Auschwitz, “There is no God,” or to be infused with adrenaline and act. In my own case, I was attacked by lions. There was no time to ponder existential theories of reality, and afterwards it was useless.

This is, in a way, to argue anthropically. On the basis of my own existence and nature, the world, because I experience it so, is thus. The domain of our subjectivity constitutes a proper and essential sphere of investigation into the nature of the universe (Sam Harris, The End of Faith). In other words, if we do not use consciousness to discover some facts, they might never be discovered at all. One must also remember that our experience of life is dualistic – in which we the subject observe the object. This is the product of our particular evolved consciousness – and not necessarily useful when contemplating phenomena we CANNOT observe, such as atomic particles and quanta, black holes and the start of Universe. Perhaps it is this failing that prompts us to conjecture deity, the remote observer manufactured by our consciousness to witness and account for that which lies forever beyond our gross perception. Our subjectivity throws up dust before our eyes.

There are many instances where an anthropic argument has been used conclusively to satisfy questions that have no other means of clarification. For example, the universe (I will name it “Universe” in the same way we speak of reality, as opposed to the reality) is the way it is because, were it any other way, we would not be here to see it. I am a product of the world; my chemistry is the world’s chemistry; I must have the wherewithal to know it truly, even if to do this I must think indirectly. For metaphor and intuition are the tools of the unknowable. God has been a metaphor for all things unseen till science opened expanding vistas of knowledge. Yet even scientists employ metaphor and abstraction to comprehend quantum physics, the deep past and the nature of time and space - places where our thoughts and senses struggle to go.

Having done some reading myself, and quite probably not nearly enough, I am about to present to you an original and new view of Universe based on my own reasoning, using the anthropic principle. It differs a little from the mainstream scientific viewpoint, and yet I (humbly) think it’s important. I know its heavy stuff (I mean, writing this caused some brain pain) but please try your best and give me your opinions.

Here goes:-  

e=mv² is the old formula that gives us the energy of a moving object: if you weigh m (mass) kilograms and are running from a lion at v (velocity) metres per second, then your e (energy) can be calculated. e=mv² had been around for 200 odd years until (having done some reading), in an accomplishment of pure thought, Einstein reasoned that since no velocity higher than the speed of light is possible for matter, this limiting factor must be integral to the relationship between energy and mass. And thus, e=mc². c is the velocity of light, incorporating distance and time. These are the basic constituents of Universe: energy, mass, and spacetime, and in fact the basic constituents of our reality. Together, they are reality.

But what about = ? Is it not as intrinsic a part of this reality? “Equals” represents the activity of a verb, or verbs, but fails to tell us what actually happened, for the process of obtaining energy out of mass is anything but simple. The formula, we must remember, is a mathematical statement replete with unsolved mystery. Saying that Einstein had a brainwave is an understatement, is itself a colossal understatement! Some, who knew him, thought that he himself may even have understood the formula! All = tells us is that mc² becomes e, but it fails to qualify this in any way. As = also appears in a myriad of forms, its generic use here shrouds a wide field of enquiry. It is the elephant in the room.

Black holes, the Table of Elements, the Big Bang, Hiroshima: all these can be understood in terms of e=mc². Almost all is understood, yet the need to invent God survives still in the lingering human questions containing “why”. Perhaps the human child in us simply needs to be told “because why is a crooked letter”. There are many times when the why question is neither useful nor welcome – it is thinking inside the box.

In the beginning was the word. “Word” and “verb” are etymologically related, verbum being the Latin for word. It may well be that ancient desert musings intuited accurately that at the core of all the reality we can perceive is some, personal or not, volition. (I don’t see why my own stream of ideas should not have been repeated many times by others down the ages). For what caused the Big Bang to be, in all its blinding light? It most definitely occurred in a process contained in = , the relationship between the participants in reality.

So what is this word, or sentence, or recipe, that describes the relationship? If we can find its meaning, perhaps it will be the meaning of all we have ever sought, this relationship between energy, matter, distance and time; and it may also flesh out the mystifying pivotal instant of inevitability immediately prior to the Big Bang, when reality came into being.

It has to be more than a simple word, most probably a complex sentence or understanding, with qualifications and provisions. The formula stands alone quite satisfactorily as a mathematical statement. But we know that for a large part of the life of Universe (i.e. during reality) most matter, and most energy, are not actively engaged in the formulaic process of transformation. Thankfully for us. It happens under certain circumstances, to be found in very heavy elements, stars, and some bigger reactions. Most matter is stable and most energy remains energy. So first of all, conditions have to be correct for = to operate.

The object, or rather Situation, that existed prior to and became the Big Bang was neither energy nor matter nor did it have dimension or duration. These were all unrecognisably transformed. It incorporated all, in a combination for which we have no conception or practical description. It also, like a super-black hole, exerted a field of almost infinite gravity. This definitely does not mean void, as the pre-primal non-substance is biblically named. Far from it. This was simply a non-reality thing. We, being products of Universe where energy, mass and spacetime are interdependently discrete, and gravity is weak, can only use the now-unbundled tools of this (our) reality to observe them. e=mc² emerges as the very definition of reality itself.

Now pay attention! Transcending the absolute moribund nature of this Situation, was its ability to transform – we know it did, for we are here. It seems as if = represents the requirement to transform, a Law of Progression, or Law of Unlimited Compulsion. (This is not to be confused with the Second Law of Thermodynamics, which, only within Universe, dictates an increase of entropy, making possible the changes of Universe, including the production of forces and particles, and the evolution of elements and life). It is as if, with e, m, and timespace collapsed upon each other, = still retains its freedom of action: it stands outside.

I believe that the extreme tension between collapsed matter and the resultant  intense gravitational field caused a reversal in the disposition of energy, somewhat analogous to a reversal in polarity. I do not think there was a Big Bang as it has been suggested up till now: an explosion. Instead, the gravitational field became evenly infused with all (i.e. the total amount of all) the energy previously locked in the Situation, the energy dissolved, forming a uniform distribution of energy particles as a pressureless colloidal dust, or field matrix plasma. Simply put, the gravity “vacuumed” the energy from an inwardly collapsed state into an outwardly open and distributed state. This occurred with a commensurate dissipation of the gravity – and a surge of released spacetime (with some attributes of superconductors) which is still continuing, even as gravity again accumulates (for gravity results from the accretion of mass. Bear in mind that gravity distorts and bends spacetime in on itself). This explains the observed uniformly expanding nature of Universe as well as its residual electromagnetic radiation; imagine dots on an elastic sheet which is being stretched.

I feel it is necessary to paraphrase this explanation simply, lest its meaning escapes us. The Big Bang does not emerge explosively from a point; it erupts equally everywhere into energy, and there is an oscillation of states of being as equilibrium is maintained (gravity – spacetime – gravity). The singularity was not a point but a pervading field having the potential for transformation into energy and spacetime.

There are parts of Universe we cannot see because their light has not yet reached us. In conventional Big Bang theory, for this to have occurred, the speed of the explosion must have been great indeed. Those invisible parts must have reached their destination at speeds greater than the speed of light… or else we could see them. Is this speed possible for matter? Is not an Instant Universe a more compelling theory?

For those who would disagree I ask: Where is the singularity located? In an infinite gravitational field, CAN it be located?

The field yields a sudden even distribution of elementary energy particles which, from a momentary matrix of average symmetry, are, through freedom of motion, and cooling and convection, thrown into interactions which result in uneven, asymmetric concentrations of forces, and the onset of angular momentum. These concentrations are the factories of proto-mass, recreating gravity again, to begin the evolution of matter and stars. It is in the emergence of energy particles from gravity that unifies it with the other forces.

It was in this super-hot, elementary particle “flour” in which collisions and associations between particles led to elementary mass particles akin to the theoretical Higgs Boson, and subsequently to hydrogen atoms. It is the non-regular, angular momentum of elementary particles and their resultant increase in speed that gives rise to their relativistic mass – or protomass – in unstable packets of short duration. Some transmutation occurs, inducing interactions of strong nuclear forces and permanent relationships.

Were elementary particles initially as various as those we have recently discovered? Or are many of these the offspring of later stars, elements and cosmic combinations? I guess that the initial mix was simpler, yet complex enough to produce hydrogen, and helium. Simple hydrogen therefore might contain the original recipe.

We know that the bonds that keep mass from reverting explosively to energy are very strong. We now know that in achieving fission in the most unstable of elements, this is only partial. But what about the opposite process? What about ongoing solidification of energy into mass?

We live in the Universe Epoch. It may well be incorrect to speak of alternate universes: such things may have been so strikingly different to Universe (our reality), that we could neither experience them, let alone describe or name them.

Universe functions by means of intrinsic laws and actors – forces, energy and mass, gravity and linear spacetime. Without these, including the Second Law of Thermodynamics, we simply could not be here.

Indiens

I got the job by chance. Petrus had seen me ride bareback – he’d accompanied me to test a young arab mare, out in the reserve. Two years later, I got a call, an emergency: specialist bareback riders needed for a film shoot, casting TOMORROW!

That afternoon I bridled Phantom (the most bombproof of my rides, with a deep back) and took him for a ten kilometre trip in the veld, bareback of course, with lots of trotting and transitions, to find my seat and rediscover some of those muscles…

Next morning I stepped out of my bakkie at the old Culemborg sidings where a police pony, immaculately schooled, had been hired to test the applicants. I put my name down and settled to watch. Take the reins, jump on unassisted, then walk, trot and canter back to the start and leap off in-canter before the camera tripod. The casting agent was a slight, fit, tanned gay guy who’d never smelt a horse before, but he’d approached Petrus for contacts. It was a synch, though I baulked at the jump off manoeuvre – simply because of my habit formed by training my own horses to stand like statues when dismounting.

After a month of waiting I got the call to an evening measuring gathering, and found pretty much those guys I’d earmarked myself at the casting, including Petrus himself. We were twenty five, and according to the storyboard, I was “Stunt Double for Indian Chief” which sounded propitious. It seemed we had to wear loincloths with bumflaps, moccasins, tasselly leggings, wigs and feathers. The loincloths were of leatherette vinyl and I pointed out to the scary costume chick that the vinyl piping meant to go between our legs (a great big thick g-string in essence) was going to cause considerable pain. I was ignored, though I was quite right, of course.

Then came the shoot. It was a big one, an advert for the French Lottery. We were lifted out to Worcester before dawn and delivered to a 2 Star hotel. We filled it. The first afternoon, we were taken to a remote part of Nuy farm, where a railway track ran straight to some rolling Karoo hills.

So far only the horses had arrived – tomorrow was the shoot itself, and in track suits we practiced a few dry runs. We lined up on the causeway bank next to the tracks, and at a signal turned left and took a controlled canter next to the metals, an easy procedure and after a couple of times we were bored. Next day there was a steam train and everything changed.

Well. It was winter. We’d been woken at 3 a.m. to kit up. The makeup chicks were cute but it was too early for flirting. The leading man, the Chief (alias Tony Caprari) loudly demanded coffee – the hotel staff panicked. Tony barely acknowledged me, he seemed an arrogant bastard but by the end of the day I was to like and respect him. Makeup – first a layer of sunblock then a red skin from head to toe. Then war paint – circles on the arms, stripes on the face, pretty cool really. Then the heavy pigtailed wig, held on with pins. My hair was short and one of the pins spent the whole day embedded in my scalp. But it was all so uncomfortable I could barely notice. Finally, stuff not seen before, and just off a plane - a trial of the Chief’s war bonnet, all four kilograms of it and beautifully made, plus a breastplate of carved bones and feathers, precise replicas of nineteenth century Sioux paraphernalia researched in the Royal Cultural History Museum, London. But I wasn’t to wear them continually – they passed between myself and Tony throughout the day. We were each then given a tracksuit, to keep.

Finally, the set… predawn, July, Karoo… about -5°C. That’s when the tracksuits were needed, and the warm horse fur beneath us. It dawned crystal clear, with the train building up steam a click or two up the track, facing us. It had been given a great red chimney trumpet and a red cow catcher. It looked the real thing. Along the tracks, on the left facing the train, the fence had been removed for about 300m and the scrub flattened. On the right, the fence remained. The concrete sleepers for this distance had been painted brown to imitate wood.

The set was now huge. Apart from the horse trucks and paddocks, there were pantechnikons full of who-knows-what; mobile toilets and change rooms; an open air restaurant (lunch was fresh seared swordfish); trailers; and a fair sized parking lot. There were about two hundred people, including a few local sightseers.

We were marshalled for the first take. The train coasted down the slight incline towards us so the driver could take instructions from the Director. Suddenly as it drew near it let off steam. In the chill dawn, still fairly quiet, this had a devastating effect on the horses. An atomic bomb would not have caused more reaction. The steam shot up like a mushroom cloud in the icy air, with the rising sun behind it – and remember, these things are quite big. The noise, too, was like the hiss of an RPG.

The horses, and riders, departed helter skelter all over the veld. The train reversed back to its start point, and we got our now-quivering horses back in front of the big camera boom. The director team were from London, and they gave us a quick lecture on what they wanted. Already we were starting to know better. We lined up, myself in regalia nearest the camera.

‘Chief, shout something motivational to your men, it doesn’t matter what, then all turn left and canter next to the track towards the train. Those with revolvers fire them into the air. We want to see the smoke.’

That sounds easy, but I nearly panicked while thinking of something to say. After all, many eyes were now on us. No one had told me I would actually have to act.

The train in the distance started its run. At 500m, the director, loudly, shouted,

‘Action!’ Cameras were rolling. I paused, looked left, stiffened melodramatically. I punched my spear skywards, stood straight up with my knees, and bellowed,

‘Skiet hom in die hol!’

My horse reared, tried on its hind legs to walk backwards down the steep causeway slope, and fell on its back. The other horses ran helter skelter all over the veld. But now the train was coming down fast on me, and I was right next to the track. Having thrown my spear away I held onto his neck with my right hand, and twisted sideways to make him fall on his side, so we fell close together with only one of my legs under him, without my losing the reins. So in all this funny leather and yards of feathers I had to run with horse right behind me over bushes away from the track – I wanted at least 50m between us and the train when it arrived, or the horse would do something bad to itself. It ran over me twice, and twice I went down, getting my foot stood on quite badly. I remember passing Petrus lying on his back. He was laughing uncontrollably at the sky.

Take 2. I was given a light snaffle instead of the mediaeval thing my horse had arrived in, and things started to go better. He, by the way, was a handsome skewbald by the name of Apache, and he moved like the wind. He really fucked off.

We did twenty-one takes. If this doesn’t sound like a big deal, you’d better read on carefully. I took all day, ten hours in the – sorry, bareback. The vinyl ground into our arses. I had sneaked a tanga onto the set and in a toilet break I surreptitiously changed. That was much better. The horses could never be controlled again, and they soon learned the word ‘Action.’ To them, it meant, fly from standing into a flat out gallop. When we passed the train and it roared above us, they went faster still. The Director couldn’t believe his luck – here was an unprecedented bit of wild riding such as only the Sioux themselves ever attempted.

After each ride, which took less than a minute, we walked our horses back from wherever we had managed to stop them, blown and bruised, wranglers running out to retrieve some of the more difficult ones in hand. Before each ride, we felt real fear. It took courage to face the next charge. The horses ran in a tight pack; there was no leadership, it was a wild herd. Our legs bashed against other legs, and against horses, promising to throw us off. We knew that if we fell, we would die quickly among thrashing legs and hoofs. Sometimes we sat so lightly we were flying, and the horses jerked and sidestepped unexpectedly.

On one memorable take, the press of the herd forced me up the causeway slope and between the tracks. I was galloping across the concrete sleepers with stones in between. Below me on my left was the herd, an impenetrable pack. I couldn’t go there without the horse collapsing and probably causing a pile up. On my right was the fence, and there I would be caught between the train and the fence – certain death as I saw it. My only option was to overtake. I screamed and kicked at the horse and we pelted straight at the front end of the train, riding high above the causeway. I threw the horse left into the leading horse heads with less than 50m to spare: a sideways jump down at full gallop.

Apache in a gallop led with the right leg. My left foot in its light suede took the full knock of his powerful elbow with every stride. Next day my foot was so contused I limped with difficulty.

I know now, in a small way, why cavalrymen were considered courageous. A charge is an immense thing, something that once started cannot be stopped, or changed, or opted out of. It is incredibly dangerous. Even without live weapons going off, you can be killed instantly, every single time, violently; and this in spite of all the skill in the world.

In our burned out exhaustion we felt a glorious glow of achievement in a way no one watching or anyone else could understand. After the last take of the day, we rode back into the low orange sun, me standing straight, the horse jogging. Then a wind came up from behind and the great red and white war bonnet flapped open with a crack! and the power of a sail, and I knew we looked magnificent.

During the day I had several chats with Tony. He was no Arrogant Bastard – I soon saw he was a Real Man. A dedicated professional actor, he had mastered most things, and I watched him mastering the hands-free Indian leap onto a horse’s back, which he did expertly. He had first approached me in the midmorning coffee break to say,

‘Hey Evan that’s incredible riding, we’ve never seen anything like it. Thank you SO much for making me look so good.’

And then the day was over, redskins in Combis being gawked at in the Worcester rush hour at traffic lights, and a long drive home in the dark, winding down into reality.

Mind your own energy!

In 1807 Thomas Young first used the word ENERGY in its modern sense, from the greek word energeia meaning activity. Some time later, about 1824, the Prime Minister of England asked Michael Faraday, a pioneer of electromagnetism, just what use electricity was; to which Faraday is supposed to have replied, why, someday you can tax it.

Energy was no-one’s business.

Even if this ironic story grew with dramatic hindsight, we now have the situation, and this has never happened before in history, where states supply and indeed monopolise all the significant energy used in the world – to their great advantage. At first it was cheap. Colonial powers discovered massive stores of fossil fuel in subjected territories, and set about developing ways of using it. This led pretty soon to runaway growth in our energy needs (which had been quite modest up till then).

Today we are in crisis. Energy has become the one resource that is most likely to drag nations and the world into war – its done so a couple of times recently. The problem is not that energy is running out – quite the contrary. The universe appears to provide almost infinite amounts of it, in largely untapped and renewable forms. The real problem is that states control it. Remember, this situation has overtaken us really quickly. Zoom back to 1807… What were people doing? They were helping themselves! And their governments had not the slightest interest in getting involved. I can imagine they avoided such commitments nimbly. If you wanted hot water or home heating, you got wood or peat or dried cowdung and burned it. And if this was not absolutely free, it certainly was part of a local limited economic chain. And sustainable.

In fact, it was this dependence on renewable but very limited resources that kept explosive development and population growth in check. In other words, an economical and ecological balance was maintained. The sudden use of fossil fuels added, to man-hours, almost uncapped potential virtual man-hours. And at the same time it gave birth to megalithic corporate states with ever more totalitarian powers.

We have nearly reached the end of stage one of the Energy Revolution, the fossil fuel or carbon era. For stage two, many hopefuls are waiting in the wings to take us beyond. Wind, sun, waves – and others – are amply able to provide vast amounts of electric power. Then there is nuclear power, hydrogen, various forms of thermodynamic and chemical latent energy. We have not even started to imagine what the search for the Higgs Boson may reveal, but it may seem quite, magically, miraculous. E=mc²… this means that in the universe, if you take all the mass there is (yourself, interstellar dust, gas and dark matter plus the boring old stars and lumps of rock out there, quite a lot of them), multiply this by the speed of light, 670 million miles per hour, multiply your answer by the speed of light AGAIN, you will have calculated just how much energy exists in the universe.

Our, human, energy needs, now and forever, are insignificantly tiny considering what’s out there.

So. There is enough energy. More than enough. It should be free. And yet, it will never be as long as we keep expecting (or are given no choice for) states to deal it out. They have become so fat on energy, taking it from them will be like pulling teeth. Energy IS their teeth! Imagine what will happen if suddenly, whole communities become self sufficient and fail to see the need to pay large rates and taxes bills any more.

Remember the parable of the Boiled Frog – whether true or not. Put a frog in a pot of cold water, put the pot on the stove and turn the stove on. Apparently – and here we have to rely on the word of some anonymous psychopathic scientist – the frog’s nervous system is unable to notice a slow gradual increase in heat until its dead. Don’t try this at home, but true or not, it’s a useful simile for my argument.

Between 1807 and today, we’ve been frogs. We have let ourselves believe that we need states to supply energy. We have become locked into one of the most inflexible economic dependencies the world has seen.

I think it can all be reversed painlessly, though. Although I myself am largely off-grid, there is no self-congratulation or moral posing. It has taken incremental years and is not easy. There are many pitfalls, the greatest perhaps being that we merely swap a state dependency for a corporate one. I realised this after several years of solar powered equipment, when it all started needing expensive replacements and overhauls. So while we people on the ground feel the desire to be off-grid, corporations are gearing up to make a lot of money from this.

I want to introduce to you my idea of Capital Energy vs Vernacular Energy ©, so please read on.

The answer, to me, is to go low-tech and to reduce our expectations as far as possible. Systems should be locally made and repairable. This returns us to a pre1807 balance of neither living beyond our means nor expecting Big Brother to carry us. We humans are remarkably resourceful and vigorous animals with self-improving powers; yet we become flabby sitcom cripples in the twinkling of an eye. We might all be in wheelchairs considering the imbalance in the flow of resources towards us. States serve us, indeed, but in the way that farmers serve finely ground GM soya to chickens – as long as the eggs are laid. Without realising it, we also give a great deal back in exchange.

I said earlier that stage two will have many alternatives to fossil fuel to choose from. Now Capital Energy is energy that can only be harnessed using state or corporate capital. It takes big resources to develop oils wells on land or sea. Wave power is no option for a little old lady in a seaside cottage. And I have decided not to run my farm with a pocket nuclear reactor. The resources that only Big Brother can exploit do, definitely, have their place. But there is another, entry-level source, which is Vernacular Energy. It is freely available and the means to exploit it are available to individuals. Some are cheap and low tech.

Solar water heating, electricity generation, we are familiar with these. The scope however is much, much bigger. There is private transport, for example. Back in the day, we used our own horse that grazed our own grass. We need to unboil our froggy brains to get back to this sort of individual freedom.

I recently read all about the new South African electric car about to be released. The Joule is revolutionary, stylish, sufficient and impressive as a car. I admire its truly professional design and applaud its designers. But – and this is a big one – its batteries remain the property of the supplier and you must perforce rent them, and they may only be charged on mains supplies. Damn it! In one stroke, the Joule takes us to the very brink of total independence and then jerks us back to corporate and state bondage. Why was I so stupid to think a company would be even slightly altruistic?

I want a car I can charge from my own solar (or whatever) generators, for free. I want my transport to be as free as the backyard horse. And do the Joule designers really think that after the country’s recent debilitating power outages (or in real English power failures), all South African households will blithely plug their cars in every night?

HUH?

The answer of course, is to get a Joule or Joule-like, car, circumvent the battery contract and use a home made power source. But I’m starting to spiral off the thread. The point is that Vernacular Energy is available for every household’s needs, including transport. We have only to GO there.

Capital Energy has its place, and always will. Public transport, health, industry, the military and so on… but why should it go to households? Only because we’re become so lazy. A growth of Vernacular Energy use will not only free up Capital Energy for where its really needed, but it should downsize government. This will not happen overnight, and if too dramatic it will provoke oppositional reactions and regulations. So I suggest that what needs to happen is that we, the people, start slowly boiling our froggy governments.

In Thomas Young’s world, all energy was vernacular. It was available locally, at little cost. No one complained. Its possible now.

The earth receives (and loses) 24/7 huge quantities of electromagnetic energy. Life learned long, long ago to use it. Plants converted it chemically  and stored it. We call it food. Anyone warmed by a ray of sunshine is in the position to convert it too, and use it for any number of things. The trouble is, we have got used to just a few particular types of energy, and their gadgets. To take full, meaningful advantage of the birth of stage two in the energy revolution, many habits and expectations need to change.

All our domestic appliances and gadgets may soon survive only in museums. Well I hope so. Plasma screens, bread machines, fridges and stoves in their present forms can not be fuelled by Vernacular Energy. I could be wrong of course, things may stay as they are, but this will happen at the expense of ever increasing levels of environmental devastation, political imbalance and social illness.

But don’t worry about losing all those wonderful doodahs – low tech can also be high tech, paradoxically. Its just a question of our comprehension of our gadgets. We need never be starved of the wonderful new things we have become used to looking forward to. Technologies are ever-improving.

Comparing our energy use today with Young’s world gives a very useful perspective. It would have seemed crazy in that green and quiet time that one’s energy consumption was anyone else’s concern. And truly, it is crazy. History could have flowed differently. Its just a fluke that fossil fuel (in the hands of a few)  was the driving force for development, after all, electricity was known to come from other sources first. But it led to central control of Energy, and it was a better product than Coca Cola.