Frederich Hayek, a Poem and a Seagoing Tale

This posting includes a brief article on economist Frederich Hayek, an "interactive" short story by Harvey Sage and a short poem.  Enjoy....  but please, where are your contributions?  This blog isn't just me !


*****     *****     *****     *****     *****

More on Frederich Hayek

On occasion I have mentioned Frederich Hayek in this blog, and said that I would follow up on him.  Here goes.

Hayek was a Nobel  Prize-winning Austrian economist who is most remembered (he died in 1992) for this 1944 work, The Road to Serfdom, in which he argued that (1) state control over the economy led inexorably to totalitarianism, and concluded that “only capitalism makes democracy possible”  and that  “economic control is not merely control of a sector of human life which can be separated from the rest:  It is the control of the means for all of our ends.” 

These arguments have been used today by conservatives who look at Hayek’s ideas as the antithesis of the views of John Maynard Keynes who believed that government had the responsibility of spending to stimulate an ailing economy.  It should be noted that both Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan were followers of Hayek’s ideas.  Based on what I have read, I feel that Hayek’s ideas were greatly influenced by the economies of Stalinist Russian and Nazi Germany. From that viewpoint, his arguments make sense since there was no democracy in those situations.  The roads there indeed led to serfdom.  The pertinence of these ideas today, however, I question.  Some conservatives would have you believe Hayek's position is valid today because they feel that our government's economic stimulus programs can only lead to still greater dependence on government, and eventually, in Hayek's words, to "serfdom."

I have tried to get my hands on a copy of Hayek’s book without success, and have relied on secondary sources in my research.

JL

(1)   Morgenson, Gretchen, The Capitalist’s Bible, New York, NY 2009. pp. 98-99, 226-227.

*****     *****     *****     *****     *****

Old Faces

Old faces, jowly and wrinkled !

How must they have looked in their prime?  

Unfurrowed with muscles still firm

Not sagging down below the chin,

With eyes still bright and not weathered

By what they viewed over the years,

With skin unblotched and soft to touch

And not sprouting unwanted tufts,

Without leath’ry toughness where once

Peachy smoothness begged to be kissed.

Old girl, Old boy, it’s plain to see

How fair and gallant once you were 

And in the eyes of some, still are,

And in the eyes of some, still are.

JL 

*****     *****     *****     *****     *****

Stranded

Harvey Sage

This is an open ended story which challenges the reader to work through clues and come to a decision.

The huge storm generated wave struck Truffles like a tsunami, pushing the chartered craft as if it were a cork, high and closer to shore.  It dragged the anchor and settled at a fifteen degree list,  parallel to the beach. I was horrified.  Water could cascade over the boat’s side and swamp me, sweeping me overboard. I closeted myself below deck, securing the hatch so no water, or anything else, could enter.  I was particularly terrified of the crocs.

            The last time I saw my husband of two weeks was three hours ago, just after we’d enjoyed rutty sex.  “I’m going for a swim dearest,” were his last words.  I heard his dive and kicking as I lay on a bed, relaxing. Then there was silence. I climbed to the deck of the mid-sized cruiser and saw a blood red froth halfway to shore. The agitated churning indicated that a crocodile had seized my husband.  I peed in my swim suit.

“Damn you Rick. Why did you have to go for a swim? You knew that this deserted hideaway, our honeymoon delight, was part of an island chain known for its isolation  and large sea crocs. Now here I am, stranded, and I don’t have a clue what to do!” That’s when I prayed in earnest. “Lord help me please.”  I also decided to write down all my experiences and leave them in a watertight jar on the desk. People should know.

We have a radio and Rick was supposed to show me how to work it.  But one thing led to another and he never got around to it.  The Truffles is powered by twin engines. However I don’t have the slightest idea how to work them. Another thing Rick never showed me.  Why not? Didn’t he think me capable? I searched the galley for provisions.  There is plenty of food and water. Enough to survive till help comes. Night time will fall soon. I’ve got nothing to do so I begin to look through Rick’s papers.

Besides the usual things such as passport, marriage license, and business contacts, there is something that caught my eye. Weird. An insurance policy worth a million dollars, and twice that amount if either of us died by an accident. Double indemnity they call it.  Rick’s signature was on the bottom, and so was mine. I never signed this thing. I’m sure of that. Like I said, weird. I started thinking about Rick. Did he intend for me to be rich?

We had met by happenstance on the tennis court. Was it fate that he and I became partners in doubles?  A lunch date followed and he swept me off my feet.  He was a senior VP in a big corp, or so he said. He seemed to have a lot of money and he lavished it on me- dinner, shows, flowers, jewelry- the whole nine yards. Would I marry him? In a heart beat.   In less than a month since we met we were on our honeymoon, motoring through this island chain in the Pacific, enjoying every moment. Until his swim.

             Truth be known, I really didn’t know much about Rick. Even our marriage ceremony was strange.  Rick insisted on a quiet, no frills, civil union by a “friend” of his, a notary. I didn’t like it  but I didn’t want to rock the boat. Whatever made the man of my dreams happy.

            Last night I shivered in fear in the cabin as periodic thumping sounds came from the deck.  Were the crocs on board?  Something tried to open the cabin door. Thankfully the lock held. I thought I would die of a heart attack. Then the noises went away and I drifted off to sleep. Morning had arrived. I ventured out to the deck. 

            The tide was out and I could see tracks in the sand leading from the boat. Some of them looked like crocodile tracks, pointed toe shapes that were deep.  Were there also human foot prints among them? I thought this island was deserted. Anyway, I have decided to get off this boat and explore.  Maybe I’ll meet up with some friendly natives. I’ll fix up a sack full of food and off I’ll go.  If anyone finds this message in the jar, please, come look for me.

The patrol craft Beaver found Truffles which the tide had righted.  They had been searching the islands since being alerted by the charter service after Truffles had failed to make its daily situation report.   Officer Higgins found the jar with the message and showed it to Captain Blume.  At that moment there was a voice, hailing them from the shore. A man was waving to them.

Rick Simmons told them how his wife of a few days went for a swim and was attacked by crocodiles.  He cried big tears as he related his futile efforts to save her.  Captain Blume kept a straight face as he questioned him, but Simmons’ story never changed.  The Beaver affixed a tow line to the Truffles and they started to leave. Simmons went down below in the patrol boat to rest and wash up. Both Blume and Officer Higgins were at the helm when they rounded a spit of land jutting away from the island. They spied a young bikini clad lady standing there, waving frantically. Higgins turned to his captain and said “Now sir, this should prove very interesting.”  Captain Blume roared with laughter. “Interesting? Yes indeed.” 

From here on in, what happens is up to you, dear readers.  Feel free to post  your comments.