What Is the Cost of Cool Rockets?

Ashlee Vance on why you can't uncouple Elon Musk's disagreeability from his innovation and that his disagreeability might be a price worth paying.

I initially found this article pretty convincing and it made me like Elon Musk a bit more. There's certainly truth to the idea that some of the disagreeable idiosyncrasies that highly productive/intelligent people exhibit are the same things that make them as useful as they are and that too try to mitigate the idiosyncrasies is to mitigate the individuals future accomplishments. What I should have done next is outline what type of behavior is "disagreeable" and what behavior is harmful. When disagreeable behavior becomes a production function it pivots from disagreeable to endearing. In theory, it should be a simple task to distinguish between quirks and immoral decisions, but some accomplished public figures show that the lines tend to become blurred (likely true for normal human relations as well).

Aaron Greenspan authored a comprehensive "reality check" about Tesla that was equally vindictive of Musk.

It should be noted that Greenspan bears a clear disdain for Musk and his "disagreeability." This shows through and prevents much of a sense of objectivity. In spite of this, there is still a robust and objectively accurate case to be made that Musk has ventured from disagreeable to fraudulent. Are the fraud and lies an additional disagreeability that we must accept in exchange for the chance of putting humans on mars? Does the world want the man at the helm of space exploration to be one who's tweets need a serious dose of scrutiny from the SEC?

Where is the equilibrium between disagreeability and innovation? What is the upper limit on lies that are acceptable from the man who does things like drive SpaceX to send Americans to the ISS from United States soil again? If the cost is acceptable to most where it is, how do you dissuade others from following a similar path of extreme disagreeability and the aforementioned dishonesty and fraud? Maybe most individuals can tolerate fraud in exchange for the wonder of space exploration, but we certainly cannot start tolerating it from anyone else.

Lots of great quotes like this at the link:

"When questioned about how the company reached its conclusions at Autonomy Investor Day, Musk responded, 'We just randomly threw some numbers on there.'"

Small Nations

Originally published in The Pendulum: Clemson University's International Affairs Magazine, November, 2019.

Subsequent to the British referendum on June 23, 2016, three variants of the same debate surrounding the choice to leave the European Union (EU) have been raging in Britain from pubs to parliament: the effects of immigration on the United Kingdom, the financial and trade outcomes of being in the EU trade bloc, and what Britain’s place on the world stage is. The latter of the variations is the most nuanced and least quantifiable issue stemming from the Brexit debate. Influence is difficult to measure and complicated to responsibly assert. According to the National Center for Social Research, 68% of Brits believe that an exit from the EU would have a positive impact on their influence in the world, and world influence is a concept that the British people is historically well acquainted with. But now that the sun does set on the British, the question of how the United Kingdom retains its influence on the world stage must be responsibly managed.

In 2017, then Danish Finance Minister Kristian Jensen stated at a “Road to Brexit” gathering held in Danish Parliament that, “there are two kinds of European nations. There are small nations and there are countries that have not yet realized they are small nations.” British diplomats and pundits alike derided Jensen for his comment and its condescension. What the parties on both sides missed is what being a small country can mean to its power structure on the world stage. As in every other “David and Goliath” style conflict, the bystanders have missed the competitive advantage of David.

Previously, Britain was the international community’s Goliath for hundreds of years. Its navy rivaled that of any other nation, its channel could stifle every invasion attempt, and the resources and manpower of its colonies supported every war effort that it undertook. By all appearances, Britain was a giant with impenetrable armor and endless weapons. Britain had no apparent weakness. In spite of this, the American Revolution still brings to mind images of rowdy farmers routing the most well trained fighting force in the world at that time. Britain has always maintained conventional power at its disposal. What it must learn, however, is that conventional power is no longer a direct indicator of world influence.

On September 1, 1958, Iceland implemented a law that demonstrated just how little conventional power can mean. The law unilaterally extended Iceland’s fishing limits off of its own coast from four to 12 nautical miles (nmi). This acted as an exclusion for all other nation’s fishing in those waters. Surrounding nations criticized the law and the British, whose fishing trawlers had long frequented the cod-rich waters off the coast of Iceland, rejected the ruling and continued their practice of fishing within 12 nmi of the Icelandic coast. In addition to its rejection of Icelandic law, the British sent four Royal Navy warships to ensure that there was no interference with British fishing by the Icelandic. This move was particularly threatening to Iceland who had only eight ships in its standing navy. The island maintained the ships as a coast guard, but at the time of the incident it was said that of the eight ships “only the flagship Thór could effectively arrest and, if necessary, tow a trawler to harbour.” If Britain is the world’s Goliath, Iceland is its David. A nation who had one citizen to every 307 of Britain’s, an ineffective navy, and an economy that was almost entirely based on fishing was making demands of the international community’s Goliath.

Logic says that the conflict deemed by one British newspaper as “The Cod Wars” should have ended as quickly as it started. Iceland had no conventional means of enforcing its will on its fellow European island. Icelandic statesmen understood that their nation’s power did not lie in typical persuasive means. Instead of only threatening Britain for encroaching on the new fishing limits, Iceland threatened the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), which broadly disapproved of Iceland’s actions. Iceland asserted that if the new 12 nmi limit was not recognized, it would leave NATO and expel all United States military personnel from their current naval air station on the southwest tip of Iceland at Keflavik. In the wake of this threat, the USSR became involved. The British began to turn away ships bringing Icelandic cod to their ports. Britain had been Iceland’s largest market for cod sales and if Icelandic fishermen could not sell their catch, their economy would be crippled. The cod that were now being retalitorily turned away at British ports were instead being purchased by the USSR. The Soviets were desperate for a strategic foothold in the Atlantic Ocean, and Iceland’s proximity to the most powerful members of NATO and a base of operations in Iceland could have provided the key to the Atlantic. With the United States gone, the Soviets could throttle the pressure on both the United States and Britain by exploiting the financial needs of the Icelandic. Suddenly, the conflict was no longer about fishing.

Finally, the United Nations Conference on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), a series talks delineating fishing limits between all members of the United Nations, mediated an agreement between the two nations in 1961 that was almost entirely in favor of Iceland. The 12 nmi limit was held with few provisions for British fishing in specific areas and certain seasons. The outcome was widely heralded as a victory for Iceland. The outcome was all but unheard of at that point. Instead of being content with their perceived victory, Iceland once again unilaterally extended its fishing limits, this time extending 50 nautical miles. This was ignored by the British and condemned by all member nations of NATO. The British immediately sent frigates to the newly established Icelandic waters to protect their trawlers, fishing vessels that utilize dragging nets to make their catch. Both classes of ships were watched over by British jets from the Royal Air Force warning British trawlers and frigates of approaching Icelandic ships. Once again, Iceland went to NATO and asserted threats leaving the organization of expulsion of US troops from Iceland. Similarly to the first “Cod War,” concerns over increased soviet involvement in the region forced a deal that heavily favored Iceland’s position. The 50 nmi limit was enforced on Britain by NATO, with few exceptions for British ships in given areas and whose catch was capped.

In 1975, Iceland again extended its fishing limits. The country now asserting a limit of 200 nmi, growing the limit to 50 times larger than what was maintained 17 years prior. The British response was, again, its Royal Navy. This time the conflict became more violent than the previous two wars. While trawlers dragged in their catch, the Icelandic Coast Guard would approach the trawler and launch specially made hooks to cut the nets from the British ship. To prevent the Icelandic ships from successfully cutting the lines, British ships would then ram the Icelandic ships in an effort to cripple the ship or dissuade it from further interference. After a total of 55 rammings and numerous threats of stepping away from NATO, the threat of Iceland removing its membership and the closure of the NATO base at Keflavik proved too much for Britain. The 200 nmi limit was recognized by Britain and the other members of NATO. Iceland now controls fishing limits greater than four times its land mass. By metrics of conventional power, Iceland could never have outweighed Britain. What allowed Iceland to force its will on a much larger opponent was a ploy only discoverable by the realization that the country is in fact a small nation that would have to rely on unorthodox methods for its own advancement.

Throughout the course of Britain’s history, the nation has witnessed example after example of smaller foes who found an advantage against the empire, leveraged it, and won. These victories form a British-built guide on how small nations should assert themselves, even in the face of daunting odds. As Britain’s conventional power shifts, it should look to its own history to learn the new rules of operation. Power is not always tangible. The necessary first step in having influence is to go beyond a nebulous and antiquated concept of power. Influence cannot come from a nation embroiled in its own divides; it extends outward from a unified nation with a keen understanding of its rivals’ and allies’ needs. As Britain strains its relationship with continental Europe, it may be giving up the most crucial key to its power.