CJC.org

I picked up Hernando de Soto’s The Mystery of Capital in London at the Economist store on a whim. It’s a very interesting book, bridging development economics and libertarian notions of property rights.

De Soto’s argument is that the main thing holding back economic development in the Third World is the lack of clear property rights. Large swathes of developing world populations are considered “squatters”, living in places that they have no legal right to do so. They’ve, however, improved the properties that they’re occupying, say, by building actually buildings, bringing in ad hoc electrical and water supplies, etc. The reason they have to resort to these extralegalities is because of the tangled mess that is developing country property rights.

A piece of developing world property may have multiple, contradictory claims upon it: land may be held by the traditional tribe, the local governor or party official, the state governor, and so on. Documents describing property may be non-existent, non-standardized, or may simply exist in the memory of the local headman, so one piece of property can’t be compared to another. This inhibits the “squatters” from using the property as collatoral for loans, etc., and makes the property “dead capital” that cannot be used productively.

De Soto argues that formalized property laws in the West happened so incrementally and gradually, over the course of centuries, that we’ve forgotten how impossible it is to create these sorts of institutions out of whole cloth. Development advice that doesn’t at least pay attention to property laws miss out on a important resource — potentially trillions of dollars worth of “dead capital” — as well as ignoring a possibly necessary institutional step.

In the developed world, the vast majority of anything that can be owned, be it real estate, objects, and abstractions such as fixed income derivatives, are tabulated in the developing world, and are owned by someone. Because ownership is clear — legal titel is well-defined — the owner can capitalize his property, basically make it collateral for liquid assets through loans. The owner also doesn’t have to spend all his time making sure someone doesn’t move into his house or swipe his cash; these are protected by abstractions, but they are protected, and they can be lent out, inherited, and so on. That’s what generates productive capital, and leads eventually to abstract notions of ownership — shares in a company or claims to a particular portion of an income stream — that can be leveraged even more productively.

1.5 cups warm water
2 tbs sugar
1 yeast
.75 cups cool water
.25 ts baking soda
6 cups flour
2 ts coarse salt
1 tbs melted butter

sugar & yeast & warm water

soda & cool water, mix w yeast mix

stir in flour gradually, firm but sticky

rest at room temp, 1 to 1.5 hours

butter 2 6-cup loaf pans

turn dough w lightly buttered hands, divide in pans

let rise until doubled in size

bake @ 400 for 30 min. Hollow sound tapping on bottom

Here’s Paul Kennedy’s article in the Financial Times about America’s “unipolar moment”:

In global military terms now only one player on the field now counts – the US. In the wake of September 11, Paul Kennedy examines America’s new position as the world’s policeman – and the implications for us all.

The greatest voice mail message ever, and part of the folklore of everyone who was at Columbia in 1990.

ch’io non avrei mai creduto
che morte tanta n’avesse disfatta
— Inferno, Canto III, 56-57

The first time I was at the World Trade Center was in grade school, on a class trip in the 1970s. I don’t remember exactly when. I do remember going up to one of those tall, narrow windows on the observation deck to look down at the city below, and being badly startled when a loose floor tile gave a quarter of an inch underneath my feet. I thought I was going to plunge through the window.

The first memory I have of the WTC that wasn’t lost in my childhood haze was going to the Concourse level, probably sometime late in high school, perhaps senior year. We were geeky teens who had just discovered a mall to meet at, lame though it might have been as a mall. I remember being surprised that this underground mall even existed in Manhattan.

The time I worked there was in 1994, a year after the bombing. This was for one of my SIPA internships, and it was at some small Port Authority group that did trade promotion for New York City. That group was re-orged away sometime in 1995, being vaguely silly in its scope. Locally made beauty products being shipped to Asia? I’d be surprised if they ever shipped more than a pallet-ful of that. This was only for a semester, and we were in the north tower (WTC1), I think on the 30-something floor, and the reasonable PA cafeteria I got lunch in was at least one Sky Lobby above us. I’ll always remember the thrill of walking out of the Concourse and into the huge, magnificent lobby of the tower. Compared to the florescent-lit Concourse, it was filled with light.

Over the years, like a lot of New Yorkers, I was in, out and around the WTC. It’s where the Broadway IRT stopped downtown, where there was a nice Border’s bookstore, the first in Manhattan I think. In 1993, I worked at the city’s Campaign Finance Board, down at Rector Street and under the shadow of the Towers. Over the past couple of years, I returned a number of times to Windows on the World to set up trade show laptops and LCT displays for Random Walk; these were probably the first times I’d been above the 100th floor since elementary school — New Yorkers don’t often go to tourist attractions, and I’d forgotten what the view was like from up there.

I heard about the first plane when I was getting ready to go to work, listening to radio. NPR flickered with static for a moment, and shortly after that the radio announcer said that a plane had struck the Twin Towers. I turned the TV on — it was CBS, and was just as good as any other channel — and made some phone calls. I thought it was a Cessna, but the hole in WTC1 was too big. Someone on NPR said it was big, like a 757. Shit, a lot of people must have died, probably a couple hundred. I turned away for a bit, and there was an explosion on the second tower, and the TV announcers started gibbering in shock. They rewound the live feed a few seconds, and there was another plane. The camera angle they had was bad, and it look like a small, slow moving plane. I realize now that the 767 had approached from behind the Tower, and the small line I saw was the wing peeking out from around the side of the bulding. But at the time, I thought it was, I don’t know, a police aircraft that was doing a survey of the damage on the first tower that had somehow lost control and slammed into the second tower, one awful accident after another. I didn’t realize that the explosion I saw was the jet blasting through from one side to the other.

I got through on the phone to work. I was going to come in after the first plane struck, thinking there’d be some disruption downtown, but that’d be it. I was told not to come in, and that a bunch of people from the office were supposed to be at Windows on the World. I went back to watching TV, something I’d do for the rest of the day, sort of for the rest of the week.

When WTC2 collapsed, I just stared. I though the newscaster was making a mistake, that the Tower was just behind that cloud of dust, that the cloud of dust was kicked up by some secondary explosion from jet fuel, something. The dust cloud began to clear, and I still thought I could see the Tower, a shadow in the cloud. But that’s all it was, a shadow in the cloud. I just sat and stared for minutes.

Grace came back early: she’d been in the Kings County ER, volunteering to help with the flood of wounded. People were sent away after 3PM, because there just weren’t any. That night, I didn’t feel like cooking, so we went out to dinner in a Park Slope sushi place. Walking down Seventh Avenue, we could see a clear sky, except for cloud-like plume of smoke from Manhattan. There was a smell of burning in the air. That evening, the wind was blowing south.

We came into Manhattan for the first time on Wednesday afternoon. We took the Q train in — the trains that go through the Financial District weren’t running. When the train crossed the Manhattan bridge, what little conversation in the subway car stopped, and everyone quietly moved to the south side of the train and stared out the windows. Through the smoke, we could see the towers of the World Financial Center, towers that we could never see from the bridge before.

I had a bunch of newspapers from the previous week in my apartment that I hadn’t gotten around to reading yet. I tried to read them, but wound up throwing them out. These were news stories about another world, now gone.

I remember some statistic that was thrown around in the old world about how it’s more likely for an American to be struck by lightning than to be victim of international terrorism. In this new world, every New Yorker knows someone who knows someone who’s been struck by lightning. Every American knows someone who knows someone who did some sightseeing at where the lightning struck. I found out later that not everyone scheduled to be at Windows on the World got there on time. We haven’t heard from the two who were there.

I heard a funny comment yesterday: if there ever was a time to have a gun-slinging Texan in the White House, this is it. I don’t believe we can negotiate with people who have not reconciled themselves with the end of the Caliphate and the arrival of Crusaders in the Holy Land, and believe that mass murder will recall a golden age that passed before the Pilgrims landed in Massachusetts. This is a cancer that must be cut out. The conditions that allow this mentality have to be addressed, but those possessed of this hatred of us for simply being are probably beyond hope. The cutting out has to be careful, so as not to spread this cancer, but cut it out we must. Hopefully, our policy makers are up to that task.

I saw more American flags hanging from buildings in New York, hanging from backpacks, purses and hats, than I’ve ever seen before. Bin Laden has called America a paper tiger that will crumple after a few blows, and one of the Taliban recently proclaimed that these attacks have turned the United States from a “superpower to a zero power”. This is like what the fascists said in the 1930s. I don’t believe he and others like him quite comprehend what they’ve set in motion, quite understand the whirlwind they’re about to reap.

Tomorrow, I’m going to make blueberry pancakes, and hopefully I’ll remember to spray the claims-to-be-nonstick griddle with Pam.

Here are a few of the photos taken during the recent West Coast trip. The photos are generally better than what we got out of the scanner.

Update (8/6/2003): these were originally in a static page format. I’ve moved the badly formatted page displaying these pictures into the super slick image view script I’ve written for b2.

From the NYT

Time: 20 minutes

1 tablespoon wasabi powder or paste
2 or 3 large cloves garlic
Salt
1 tablespoon canola or corn oil
2 large or 4 small rib-eye steaks, 24 to 32 ounces.

1. Prepare a gas or charcoal grill or heat a large heavy skillet until it is just smoking.
2. Place wasabi powder in a small bowl, and add about 1 tablespoon cold water. Stir to dissolve, adding water if necessary to make a paste. If you are using the paste, squeeze it into a bowl. Smash and peel garlic, then sprinkle it with salt, and mince it finely. Stir into wasabi along with oil until smooth.
3. Grill the meat on one side until well browned, 4 or 5 minutes. Season the uncooked side with salt, then turn, and smear the cooked side with the paste. Cook 2 to 5 minutes longer, depending on the doneness you like, and serve.

Yield: 4 servings

Prized for their fine flavor and texture, blue-green French lentils hold their shape well during cooking.

2 cups French green lentils
2 tsp. olive oil
1 medium yellow onion, finely diced
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 cups fresh arugula or spinach, stemmed and torn into 1 pieces
1 tsp. ground cumin
1 tsp. grated lemon zest
2 cups low-sodium vegetable or chicken broth
2 Tbs. chopped fresh cilantro Salt, to taste

In a large pot over medium-high heat, combine lentils with 5 cups water and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer until lentils are tender, about 30 mm. Drain and set aside. In a soup pot over medium heat, warm oil, add onion and garlic and saute, stirring occasionally, until golden, 68 mm. Add arugula or spinach and cook, stirring, 2 mm. more. Add lentils, cumin, lemon zest, broth and 2 cups water. Simmer, uncovered, stirring occasionally, about 15 min. Add cilantro and salt, stir and serve immediately.

Serves 4.

Recipe By :
Serving Size : 8 Preparation Time :0:00
Categories : Main Dish Low-Fat
Crockpot

Amount Measure Ingredient — Preparation Method
——– ———— ——————————–
1 c Garbanzo beans
7 c Water
1 Onion, coarsely chopped
2 Yams or sweet potatoes,
-chunked
1 Carrot, sliced
1 Celery stalk, sliced
1 Leek, sliced
2 c Broccoli pieces
1 tb Lemon juice
1 tb Soy sauce
1 t Ground coriander
1/2 ts Ground cumin
2 ts Pure prepared horseradish
1/8 ts Hot pepper sauce
ds Cayenne pepper (opt)

Place beans and water in a large pot. Soak overnight.
Bring to a boil, cover, reduce heat, and cook until
tender, about 2 to 3 hours. Add onion, yams, carrot,
celery, and leek. Cook for 30 minutes. Add remaining
ingredients. Cook an additional 30 minutes. Serving
Suggestions: Pour into individual bowls or over any
whole grain. Also good as a topping for potatoes or
whole-wheat bread. Helpful Hint: This dish can easily
be made in a slow cooker. Add all ingredients at once
and cook on the high heat setting for 8 to 10 hours.
Be sure to soak the beans overnight before you begin.

Time 15 minutes

1 tablespoon neutral oil, like canola, grapeseed or corn

1 1/2 to 2 pounds fillet of striped bass (or red snapper, sea bass or grouper), skin on and scaled

Salt

Cayenne pepper

1 cup sour cream

1 tablespoon prepared horseradish, or to taste

1/4 cup snipped chives, plus a few chives for garnish.

1. Preheat the broiler and adjust the rack so that it is within four inches of the heat source. Oil the surface of the broiling pan and place the fillets on top, skin side down. Sprinkle with salt and cayenne and broil until firm and lightly browned, 5 to 10 minutes, depending on thickness. (The fish is done when it is just about opaque all the way through, and offers no resistance to a thin-bladed knife.)
2. Meanwhile, gently warm the sour cream over very low heat in a small pan, stirring occasionally. While it is heating, add some salt and cayenne. The sour cream need not get hot and it should certainly not boil; you just want to take the edge off its chill and thin it out a bit. Keep it warm while the fish finishes cooking.
3. When the fish is done, stir the horseradish and snipped chives into the sour cream. Taste and add more horseradish, salt or cayenne if necessary. Serve the fillets with a bit of the sauce on each, garnished with a couple of chives.

Yield: 4 servings.