Author Archives: brunhub

Reality vs Fantasy

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I was just doomscrolling on my phone, waiting for my cohort, Camp, who was unusually late. I was lost in the depressing narrative of the day, coupled with a haze from the fires in the interior. Drives one to drink. 

On the bigger stage it’s just hard to believe that a naïve and vainglorious president, surrounded by an incompetent and ignorant staff and cabinet starts a stupid, expensive and unnecessary war halfway across the world with no plan and no end in sight. 

It is evident that the current administration was neither prepared nor informed about their war of hubris. While the world suffers, the radicals on both sides of this conflict want Armageddon and will go to extreme lengths to win an unwinnable conflict with racial overtones and religious undercurrents, while everybody caught in the deadly exchanges of missiles, drone attacks and mines loses homes, limbs and lives. 

It is a sad reality when day after day we get to watch all that misery on our screens in the comfort of our homes. Nothing we can do about it but lament and shake our heads. We all know who the guilty parties are and we all know that nobody wins these wars of attrition and hubris. Oh, I forgot about the merchants of death, the arms industry, the oil companies and the mercenaries on all sides. They all make out like bandits.

“Looks like you’re having a migraine,” Camp said when he sat down. “I had to go to bank who short changed me on my credit card agreement. Something we talked about a couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh, I was just regurgitating the usual stew of bad news. Nothing like a fresh beer to wash it all down with before it drives me crazy.”

“Close to home are the fires around Lake Okanagan. A total disaster. Thousands of people evacuated and displaced and many square kilometers burned including homes and structures. Also, let’s not forget the tragic impact these infernos have on the livestock and wild animals.” 

‘Yes, it’s been a record hot and dry summer for most of the western world, including Europe. Only here it’s been almost perfect.”

“Yeah, my Swiss relatives were quite happy with the weather here. They even bought sweaters at Mark’s. Two for one. Also, thanks to the lousy Canadian dollar exchange rate they thought we were a bargain on all fronts.”

“Are they as pissed off at the Americans as we are?” Camp asked.

“Not quite, but they never considered themselves friends and neighbours like we did. They never much liked the Americans since many of them are belligerent, loud tourists.” 

“I remember, back in my roaming days, many American travellers stuck Maple Leafs on their back packs or jackets. Everybody liked the Canadians.” 

“My relatives were quite surprised how I scrutinized the groceries and produce at the store for country of origin, trying to avoid anything made in the USA.”

“Which is not easy. We’re so integrated with their economy that it’s almost impossible to separate. Like unravelling a sweater woven of two different colours.”

“There is always escapism. While the world is on fire and climate anxiety is real and rampant; when people only shout at each other on social media, when artificial intelligence endangers jobs and confusion reigns – should we be allowed to escape to a place of fantasy like reading novels and watching movies?”

“You’re asking me? The bookstore owner? Fantasy is the safest place to be; anything is possible, anything goes. Everybody wins.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

Antivaxx and Maxx

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            So far, we’ve had a pleasant summer here at the Sunshine Coast. Warm days, in the low twenties and a bit of rain every week and no extreme temps. No water shortage. I like it like that.  When I read about the Rhein and the Danube drying up and all river travel curtailed, I feel lucky to live here on the Westcoast. Camp and I both toasted our good fortune, once again. 

“Camp, what do you think about the fact that measles outbreaks in the US and Canada are at an all-time high and antivaxx movements are growing.”

“In the US you can start the blame at the top with Kennedy who heads the federal agency responsible for national health care, public safety, and welfare. He has cancelled funding for vaccine hesitance research and downplayed the risks of measles and spearheaded a hunt for evidence that vaccines are unsafe. His wonky beliefs about autism and vaccinations are dictating policy at the highest level. It’s quackery and charlatanism of the worst sort, setting health policies and science aimed at curing disease back decades. Our officials here in Canada are at least more science based rather than religious.”

“As far as I’m concerned, these antivaxxers can all get sick and croak. The problem is they will infect others along the way and want to be treated by the system when they get sick but the real crime is withholding vaccines and treatments from their children who have no choice and some of whom will even die.”

“Exactly, I’m with you. If a Jehovah witness doesn’t want a blood transfusion for him or herself, I couldn’t care less but if they withhold life-saving treatments from their kids they are potentially killing them and should be charged accordingly. Mind you, the real criminals are the policy setters who encourage people to opt out of vaccination programs in the guise of personal health-freedom and choice.”

“Many of those new-age antivaxxers wouldn’t be alive or would suffer from polio or TB if they hadn’t gotten those vaccines when they were infants.” I said.

“It’s infuriating how gullible and naïve these anti-vaxxers are and yet they believe it’s us who are in the wrong. I’m as much a sceptic of the medical system as anybody but I believe in science and the ethics of our scientists.”

“We are living in a world where pro-maxxers, meaning protein freaks, manosphere influencers and fundamentalists combine with antivaxxers against liberals, social democrats, science and women to promote a world of freaks.”

“Who or what is this manosphere?” Camp asked, shaking his head.

“They are a far-right community, mostly on-line, led by influencers that recruit and monetize susceptible young men with toxic masculinity and misogyny. It targets young men who see themselves as romantically rejected, economic failures, alienated and lonely. They also share a dim vision of the future and are drawn to these on-line forums through fitness and weightlifting communities. They have a very low view of women in general.”

“And I bet they are antivaxxers and science deniers. Goes hand in hand with misogyny, ignorance and a lousy education.” 

“And testosterone gone rouge. I read this movement – if you want to call it that – has even found tracking in China where they are missing tens of millions of young women thanks to their one-child-policy and sex-selective abortions that only ended 10 years ago.”

“What a disaster. Another failed social engineering experiment with tragic consequences.”

When Vicky came around with new suds Camp asked her if she takes her vaccinations. 

“If the doc recommends them and they are free I’m in even if I don’t know what’s in them. On the other hand, I don’t know what’s in my yogurt that I eat daily. I trust the dairy company as much as I trust my doctor and the science.”

We both nodded in agreement, surprised once again by our servers common sense. 

Banking

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It was a hot summer’s day with a hazy horizon due to the wildfires around Pemberton. 

“Nothing like the wild-fires in Ontario that make the president’s eyes water and scrambles his mind beyond sanity,” I said.

“He seriously suggested imposing more tariffs because Canadian smoke is drifting south. How about sending up some fire fighters instead,” he said, shaking his head.

We both took a long swallow of cold, golden goodness.

“I don’t know how you do your banking Camp but when I read headlines like: Big banks post record profits I cringe. Of course, we all know banks never loose, they just up their fees and lend out more money.”

“Not sure where you’re going with this my friend. Something must have crawled over your liver, to use an old idiom.”

“Well, you’re right. Here is my little story: Last year we bought in to a spiel about a new and very advantageous credit card, the CIBC Aeroplan Infinite. Big name. Big promises. We were also told that as long we kept a certain amount of money in our chequing account the yearly fees of $ 189.- would be waived. So far, so good. When I went into the branch the other day for another issue, I inquired about this arrangement. I was told that: ‘oh sorry, the terms have changed. You must have gotten an email about this. They have rescinded those terms last November and are now charging the full amount.’

‘You’re kidding? What about the free companion card I was promised?’ I asked. 

‘Sorry, that also no longer applies but the good news is that for seniors they are giving away a $ 50 bonus on renewal.’ 

‘Let me get this right,’ I said. ‘CIBC unilaterally and arbitrary changes the contracted agreement we had and takes away the promised perks that made us buy into this card in the first place. Just like that. Also, I never got an email about this.’ 

‘I’m so sorry sir,’ the managerial person said, ‘I advise you to change to this new card that is absolutely fee-free and has all the same perks your current card has.’

‘Changing to a new card is like losing my present card,’ I said. ‘I would have to change all my pre-authorized subscriptions and bill payments. What’s the point if they can change those terms on a whim. Thank you very much for your help and insights.’

I hope the manager didn’t take my displeasure personal but I was pissed.”

“Those sounds like rich people problems. I do my personal and the stores banking with the Credit Union since day one and I don’t have a credit card. Call me old fashioned but I still use cash. Whenever possible. The reason being that a 50 dollar bill is always a 50 dollar bill. If you use a charge card, several dollars go away and the 50 bucks are suddenly only 48 bucks. The issuer and the banks they represent make money every time you swipe that piece of plastic. I should know because most people use the cards at the store and it costs me every time. Cash is almost an anachronism.”

“You’re probably right Camp. Rich man problems. I wonder where all that cash is that the Bank of Canada prints if nobody is using it?”

“Good question.”

We finished our beers. 

When Vicky came around with another round, I asked her about her payment preferences. 

“I use my card because I don’t have to pay for 30 days but I prefer cash, as in tips,” she said, winking at us. 

We got the message. We agreed to pay in cash from now on. Screw the banks and credit card companies. 

Theatre of the Absurd

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Camp was in a good mood since the weather was perfect: warm days and cool nights, unlike the relentless heat wave in Europe and tourists were patronizing the book store and the beer was fresh and cold. He also had something on his mind. I could tell by the way he tousled his grey curls with the free hand while the  other held on to his pint.

“Here is what I can gleam from scanning the news this week” he said. “The Qatari gifted and gilded Airforce 1 lands in Ankara for the NATO summit and its orange skinned passenger is received like the second coming. All the oxygen is sucked out of the space and guests and onlookers sway and swoon, unsure of their role in this charade. Will they be asked to smile and nod or curtsey or just stand there with hands folded at their backs, choking back bile and clenching buttocks?”

 “As the world watches in disbelieve,” I said.

“I have to say that Trump outdid himself this week. First he inserted himself as chief referee into the FIFA Worldcup.  He made the call to his buddy Fifantino and got the US team’s Folarin Balagun’s red card rescinded. Everybody got mad about this outrageous interference, especially the Belgians who didn’t really know who this guy was until he was suddenly pushed to the front pages. Turns out he plies his trade in France and plays for Monaco.”

 “Isn’t he an American by birthright citizenship, the kind his benefactor wanted the supreme court to disallow.”

“Poor Balogun, not even he could stop the 4:1 trouncing of the Americans by the motivated Belgians. Reverse this! the Belgian soccer federation posted after the game.”

We both shook our heads and concentrated on our drinks for a beat.

“Last Wednesday a federal judge ordered the release of $ 5.8 million to E. Jean Carrol for Trump’s sex abuse and defamation conviction. This comes days after the Supreme Court rejected an appeal by Trump and despite his attempt to get the justices to reconsider. Everybody knows he did it.”

“Everybody also knows now that Trump and his family amassed a fortune somewhere between 3 and 4 billion dollars since his return to the White House, much of it from shady crypto ventures.”

“Yes, and still 36% of Americans approve of this president. What is wrong with these people and what do they want?” I asked, exasperated

“Well, I can tell you that the millions of fundamental religious zealots support him as well as the white supremacy sympathizers and racists and all those that profit from his warmongering and tariff wars,” Camp said.

“Did you read about Meta’s plans to build a 13 million dollar, 1.4 gigawatt data centre north of Edmonton? It will be built on 1750 acres of land, almost twice the size of Stanley Park in Vancouver. Meta claims that if will fully fund a new natural gas generation plant and infrastructure which will consume about the same as 800’000 homes. All this for cloud data storage and AI bots.”

“Remember that Stones song, Get off of my cloud? That should be the new theme song,” Camp said and just in time Vicky served up two mugs of cold, golden lager. Nothing artificial or intelligent about beer.

FIFA World Cup 2026

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“Are you watching any of the world cup?” I asked Camp after we settled into our sunny corner at Gramma’s Pub. 

“My brain and intellect tell me to boycott the whole circus because you know that Trump will politicise the games which became evident when Infantino presented him with the FIFA peace trophy at the Kennedy Center.”

 “Yes, that was such an awful cringe moment. Just as bad as accepting an Order of Friendship award from Vladimir Putin. Infantino, who has an ego to match that of his Orange Idol, will be seen as one of the beautiful game’s greatest cowards or as a Guardian article said:  A petty man who lost control of his own tournament.”

“I guess you’re also talking about the US denying entry to the Somali referee, Omar Abdulkadir Artan, because Trump regards Somalis as garbage and crooks. So much for the all-inclusive tournament. Even Russia allowed visa-free travel for its 2018 World Cup.”

“How much money is at stake,” Camp asked rhetorically and answered his own question. “Fifa is projecting revenues of over US$ 10 billion, double of what the 2024 Olympics in Paris made.”

“I guess it’s all about the money Camp.”

“How much of it trickles down to local programs in host cities?”

“Very little to nothing. Fifa keeps all the revenue streams like broadcast, sponsorships and ticket sales. On the other side of the equation the host cities and taxpayers are on the hook to absorb the operating costs.”

“How much will it cost Vancouver and BC to host 7 games?” Camp wanted to know.

“About 100 million dollars. That’s net, counting projected revenues and federal contributions.”

“I don’t even want to think how many long-term beds we could build for that. I guess it’s all circuses for the masses,” Camp said, shaking his head. “And who is paying for the turf upgrade at BC Place?” 

“Because BC Place is owned by the B.C. government through a Crown corporation, the multimillion-dollar installation of the temporary natural grass surface grown in the Fraser Valley, is ultimately covered by public funds.”

“Are you going to any of the Vancouver Games?”

“I’m not going to spend hundreds of dollars to go to a 90 minute game. I don’t like the insane ticket prices which pushes ordinary working people right out of the market nor do I like the politicisation of the game but I’ll probably watch some matches. Maybe right here at the pub or at home. I watched the Swiss and Canada games yesterday. Both of them emphatically trounced their opponents with plenty of pretty moves and goals.” 

Vicky came around with our refills and I asked her if they will show some of the world cup games. 

“Since there is no more hockey or basketball, we’ll show some games and offer drink and food specials.” 

“What’s the beer special?”

“Michelob Ultra for $ 6, brewed in London, Ontario by Labatt. That makes it a Canadian beer.”

“We’ll try one each.”

Artificial Super Intelligence

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“Hey Camp, I read this article in the Guardian by Astra Taylor and Saul Levin about the growing movement to stop the proliferation of Datacentres. They argue that Datacenters provide a physical place and focal point where people can show up and directly confront out-of-control and otherwise impossible-to-reach tech billionaires. I think they have it about right.”

“I have to admit I’m kind of in the dark about all this AI smorgasbord. I don’t know what’s hype and right, don’t know the difference between a bot and an avatar or a real photo or a fake one. It’s all happening much too fast for ordinary people to do anything about it. It’s like a big storm coming at us and no way to get out of the way.” 

“I know it’s kind of scary. That’s why I like this new movement. This brewing populist resistance against massive electricity gobbling Datacentres represents a critical new frontline in the fight against tech-enabled authoritarianism.” 

“Is it too late to stop the exponential rise and capabilities of the new Super AI that make the human brain look like that of a snail in comparison?”

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Amazon

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Camp is back and in a good mood. It’s almost summer and business in the book store always picks up at this time of year. And yet, the competition from e-readers like Kobo, Kindle and Amazon is fierce. 

“Book stores have to offer more than just books,” Camp said. “We offer atmosphere, knowledge and personalized service. People like that. But you’re right, Amazon is not just driving book stores out of business but every other small-town retailer.”

“I have to admit, we shop on Amazon but only after we exhausted local choices and alternatives,” I said.  “It’s hard to beat one day free delivery right to your front steps and their return policy is not an option for small businesses. Often, they don’t want the item back and just send you a refund or a replacement. Crazy stuff.”

Camp was scrolling on his silly phone. 

“Amazon-Prime is how North America shops. There were about 100 million subscribers before Covid which drove the whole world inside. They have added roughly 30 million people each year since 2020. Industry analysts estimate there are now over 260 million active subscribers globally.”

“Wow, just think of the amount of money they make. It’s insane.”

“Let me tell you the numbers. Here they are: Annual revenue for Amazon’s broader subscription services, including Prime memberships, audiobooks, and video services, reached $49.62 billion in 2025. This reflects continuous year-over-year revenue growth, climbing from roughly $35.2 billion in 2022to $44.38 billion in 2024. Amazon’s value has multiplied roughly 97 times, to $1.76 trillion and is the second-largest private employer in the US, after Walmart, and it is responsible for roughly 40 percent of all e-commerce.”

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State of Emergency

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Camp is away this week so I get to rant all by myself. 

The latest robbery of public funds by Trump with the 1.7 billion dollar creation of the ‘anti-weaponization-fund’ boggles the mind with its scope and absurdity.  

I’ve come to realize that cynicism in the face of corruption with impunity is acceptance and defeatism. The autocrats from Moscow to Bejing to Washington dismiss and disregard cynicism since it is toothless and passive. 

To fight for what’s right takes courage, conviction and exposure of the fighter but if you don’t know the rules or if there aren’t any then the fight resembles Don Quixote’s flailing at windmills. It’s easier to justify moral outrage and retreat into the bubble of complacency, lamenting the state of the world and shouting at the heavens for the injustices and corruption carried out in plain sight. Normalizing bad behaviour and flouting the laws of common decency and morality renders both meaningless. The bullies and autocrats win when the populace resigns itself to a state of imposed anarchy by the ones wielding the power. It’s much more repressive and depressing when that power is granted by the plebiscite. When the governing institutions and courts support and even encourage this state of internal corruption and lawlessness then the population reaches a state of somnambulance and inertia that makes the autocracy a certainty. 

To reverse this process takes either a revolution by a population mired in generational misery and powerlessness or it takes a coup from within the ranks of government or the military. A highly unlikely scenario since all of those lawmakers and generals who oppose the regime have already been purged, dismissed or killed. As long as the population has food and the trappings of modern life like cars, heat, AC and TV, communication devises and entertainment, access to education and healthcare, a revolution is highly unlikely. 

There is no cure for cynical complacency and frustrated anger about the blatant corruption and kleptocracy will not change the outcome. 

We are in a state of emergency as far as our civilisation built on democratic principles and the rule of common law is concerned. We can stand by and watch the disintegration of standards of decency and goodness as they are trampled and dismissed by the oligarchs and autocrats or we can stand up and fight to uphold what we still have and value in places like Canada and Europe. It’s an existential necessity and we need to shun and oppose the purveyors of nationalist, racial righteousness in our midst and get back to a place of tolerance and acceptance. 

We have to go forward to a place where we feel good about ourselves again. Our children and grandchildren deserve to have a comfortable and decent life with solutions and cures, hopes and harmony with nature and each other. It sounds like utopia and maybe it is but those attributes are paramount for our continued existence as a free people. 

We have the tools and the knowledge, the art, the words, the music and the industry to make this world a better place. It is not the natural order for resources and achievements to be plundered and squandered by a few billionaires with their self-serving ambitions and limitless powers. It’s this aberration and infestation of greed and corruption that needs to be stopped, uprooted and abolished before it’s too late. 

I have a fantasy that together we can – with our voices, songs and words. 

The Human Printer

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“Did you know Camp that Natalie Harp, a young woman, writes most of Trump’s posts on Truth Social? She decides what he sees and tells the world. Harp is considered unconditionally loyal and determines which information reaches Trump.” 

“Really, you’re telling me that this woman makes and shapes the US policy by proxy?” 

“Yes, she is also known as the Human Printer, because she always carries a cordless printer around. She is Trump’s communications assistant.”

“Don’t tell me she writes his posts?” 

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. She prepares posts without oversight by the White House staff. There is a growing concern about the uncontrolled power structure behind the president’s Truth Social account. He regularly bypasses official review procedures.”

“How come nobody seems to know about this.”

“The Wall Street Journal did an analysis of 8800 Trump posts since January 2025, often sent in the middle of the night. Although Harp uploads the posts, Trump personally approves every post on paper – therefore the printer – before she publishes it. Often late at night. An investigation found that in April 2026 there were only five days on which the president managed to get a full night’s sleep. On a single Monday, 54 messages were published within three hours, including calls for Obama’s arrest.”

“Who is this Natalie Harp?” Camp asked.

“She is a 34-year-old Californian, from a strictly religious Christian family. She previously worked for the far-right broadcaster One America News Network and now coordinates Trump’s online activities.”

“Did she make up the Obama as monkeys and Trump as Jesus posts?”

“Harp reportedly published the posts on Trump’s direct instructions. She bypasses all control mechanism and only answers to him.”

“Is she always with him?”

“Apparently yes. She accompanies Trump constantly — whether on the golf course or at official events.”

“Unbelievable! I was wondering how he can keep up with all these posts by himself. He posts an average of over 3000 words a week. That’s a sizable essay.”

“According to the Wall Street Journal investigation, Harp described Trump in personal letters as her guardian and protector and emphasized that he alone matters to her. She has significant influence over which information reaches him.”

“And us for that matter. Where do you get all this information?”

“From an article in my Swiss paper by a staff reporter. There are pictures of Harp with an armload of paper at the White House.”

“So we have two women, Lara Loomer, who tells Trump who to hire and fire and Natalie Harp who directs his domestic and foreign policy with his Truth Social account.”

We both finished our first pints just in time as Vicky was serving up a fresh round.

“What’s new in the world boys?” she asked.

“We’re controlled by a human printer,” Camp said.

Vicky looked at me as if I’m the sane one.

“She is 34 years old.”

“You two never fail to surprise me.

The Orange Man Cult

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Once again, the elephant in the room, even at our pub, is the Orange Man in the White House. 

“You know Camp, the ballroom, at 90’000 sq ft, nearly twice the size of the White House mansion, epitomizes Trump’s achievements. The massive hole itself is the most apt monument to his presidency. “

“Indeed, he has proven far more successful at demolishing venerable and respected structures and relationships than building anything new and lasting.”

“The MAGA cult is the most successful cult after the Catholic Church and Islam. It’s a contemporary cult with an ancient playbook: Narcissistic leader that is infallible and never loses, thrives on chaos, has imperial aspirations, sees himself as God-like and is surrounded with sycophants. He enriches himself and his family,” I pontificated.

“Nothing new there,” Camp said. “What is new is that the cult leader is the president of the world’s biggest economy.” 

“What can you and I do to counteract or even fight this cult? It has millions of believers who would drink the cool-aid if asked to?”

“We can be aware of the facts and look for better ways to deal with people. Be compassionate, be real, be truthful and be kind. Try to understand and help out where we can. Stay educated and informed. Don’t be afraid to speak your mind.”

“All noble ambitions Camp but what will it change?”

“Not anybody’s mind that is a follower of the cult, nor will it change the past nor the plethora of lies and conspiracies. Come to think of it, here in Alberta, we have our very own separatist cult led by angry, rich white men.”

“We now have a war that nobody wants, an immigration crackdown that only terrorizes and scares people, voting rights being usurped by the courts and lawmakers, international trade destroying businesses and health policies that prohibit access to freedom of choice drugs amidst false claims about vaccines and medications. Is that what people really want?” I said, downing my pint in one big gulp.

“You need to relax my friend,” Camp urged me. “It’s not healthy to be upset by the news of the day, news that are geared towards negative, sensational outcomes. You need to pay attention to your beautiful wife and garden, to a nice meal or a drink with friends. To hell with the Orange Man.”

Camp of course is right and thanks to a friend who convinced and taught me, I now have discovered making bread. Sourdough bread that is. I have a culture that I nourish and I bake one loaf a week. That’s all we can eat anyway. Costs me about a dollar as in comparison to ten dollars at the store. I told Camp about my new hobby.

“Baking bread is a noble and a satisfying endeavour. Congratulations.”

“What are you guys celebrating?” Vicky asked when she brought another round.

“Baking bread,” I said. “I’ll bring you a loaf next week.”

Ambitions, Goals and Dreams

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            ‘Do you have any regrets Camp, any unfulfilled ambitions or unreached goals?’ I asked my friend after I sat down and had a sip of ice-cold beer. I was bothered by an email from a friend, claiming that we can all plan our lives with what we have and that everybody can live a fulfilled existence. 

‘You know when I was young, I wanted to be a journalist but then I got sidetracked and went to law school until it dawned on me that lawyers only deal with people who have problems. I switched to pedagogy and became a high school teacher for English and Geography. Then I took over a bookstore which curtailed my travel ambitions. Instead, I read a lot and was and am always fascinated with all the aspects of our little planet.’

            ‘Really Camp, I had no idea you were on track to become a lawyer. I dreamed of becoming a priest because they only worked on Sundays or a clown because they made people laugh or a pilot because every boy wanted to be one. 

            ‘You were lucky to be born into a society that allowed you to make choices,’ Camp said. ‘To have dreams and fulfill them; have ambitions and achieve them; to have goals and reach them is not everybody’s domain. The boy in the Gaza strip who can only go to a madras where his main subject is the Koran or the girl in Afghanistan who cannot go to school at all because she is a girl do not have the same playing field as the boy and the girl who were born and grew up in Demark or Switzerland or Canada.’

            ‘But still, even the poorest campesino in Guatemala or the young woman who was just forced into marriage at the age of 14 have dreams, but can they fulfill them, having no choices and no chance to change their situation,’ I said.

            ‘You don’t have to be rich and especially talented to reach your goals but you have to be able to choose: To study, to marry, to have kids, to travel or even to run away. That means the postal code of where you’re born is the most important factor in your life’s trajectory.’ 

            ‘Can all of us chase our dreams and ambitions and if we cannot reach them, are we condemned to a humdrum and unhappy life or drown in addictions like drugs, gambling or watching daytime TV?’ 

‘I think not,’ Camp shook his head.  Ordinary lives have highs and lows and can be special, like falling in love, the joys of children, the arrival of grandkids.’

‘One thing is clear to me,’ I said. ‘It’s a privilege to be able to choose and a cardinal sin not to take advantage of chances and opportunities. We learn from trying and sometimes insights and solutions come from times of chaos and turmoil. At the end of my day I want to be able to look back with no regrets and no stone unturned.’

‘Do you feel lucky to be born in Canada,’ I asked Vicky while she deposited two fresh cold ones. 

‘Yes, I do but luck is relative,’ she said. ‘Everybody born into a loving home is lucky. The rest of life is a matter of wit and circumstance.’

. 

On Writing

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Writing is like gardening. There is always something to do. Both are creative and passionate endeavours and can while away the hours and days. Editing is like weeding; rewriting is like moving and discarding plants. Plants always move because they are in the wrong place, don’t fit, take up too much space or are just plain wrong. Like reworking a manuscript. Both, gardening and writing are not about money, fame or fortune. Success lies in the harvest. Fruit, vegetables and flowers in the garden, accolades and compliments for stories well told. A well-tended garden is very satisfying and gardeners everywhere are proud of their gardens as are writers of their stories. 

When I sit down to write I’m always planting a new idea, create or improve a character or narrative just like fertilizing or pruning an existing plant. Gardeners feel the same creative spirit when they plant bulbs in the fall, wondering what they will look like in the spring. 

Writing is planting seeds in the mind of the reader. They can stir emotions and bring joy or sorrow, as can a garden. If it blooms it can be sheer joy to behold or sadness when it fails to produce the intended flowers or vegetables. 

Some stories are perennial, always there to be read and enjoyed for many years as are plants and flowers that reappear every spring with new found vigour. 

Both gardening and writing are never boring, can be done at any age and both are time consuming and ongoing and are always satisfying and timeless and sometimes frustrating.

Gardens can be wild and chaotic, as can stories. They reflect the gardener or writer and are interpretations of their temperament and disposition. I like gardens that are full of surprises, like peppers which can look benign but are super-hot when eaten just like a story that is about a nice, shy person who turns out to be a sadistic killer. 

I’m not a gardener myself, just a critic and editor. I make suggestions and helpful hints, move unwanted debris like rocks and roots and enjoy the harvests. I need somebody like myself to help me with my writing, somebody that can spot unnecessary adjectives, repetitions and the wrong words in the wrong place. 

I need a gardener.

Everybody loses 

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            ‘Trump’s war on Iran makes everybody a loser. Iran, Lebanon, the Golf states like Qatar, Bahrein, Dubai, the Saudis, even Israel is a country at war now,’ Camp said after we toasted the warm spring weather.

            ‘Except there is one winner,’ I said. ‘Russia, thanks to the high price of crude, fertilizer and the lifting of sanctions. Putin is just swimming in petro dollars right now. More cash for his criminal war in Ukraine.’

            ‘And the rest of the world is feeling the pain. Everything from gas at the pump to plastics and even groceries is dependent on hydro carbons. They drive the modern world from food to transportation and manufacturing. We’re all paying the price for Trump’s war of hubris and self-glorification.’

            ‘The un-holy trinity of Trump, Vance and Hegseth has declared that God is sanctioning their war personally. He likes the good guys, Trump said, meaning mostly himself. When he threatens to bomb Iran back to the stone age, he is dragging everybody along and nobody seems to want to stop him. Certainly not Congress or the courts.’

            ‘He threatened to obliterate bridges and power stations, regardless of the thousands of Iranians who congregated around them. A whole civilization will die tonight and never come back. That’s what he posted on his Truth Social network. He has no clue of the ancient Persian civilization and empire he is threatening to obliterate. Ominous and deranged words that could translate into nuclear annihilation.’

            ‘And then the world waited and an hour before his ultimatum ended, he announced a ceasefire and a deal. He did what Trump does. He threatens hell and damnation and then he turns around. But somebody who utters words like those he did cannot be normalized and explained away. Those words were written and will stand forever. The Republicans, the military brass and the world needs to wake up and do something about this lunatic. He is dangerous, he is narcissistic and he is unhinged. If we don’t stop him, we’re complicit in his lunacy.‘

            ‘I agree Camp but what can we do? We can talk and get upset about it but how can anybody stop this guy and his henchmen? We’re sitting on the sidelines up here in peaceful Gibsons. Two old guys griping into their beers.’

 ‘I meet a lot of Americans at the store, not as many as a few years ago mind you but none of the ones I meet have voted for Trump and yet, he is their president. What can they all do? How to stop this madness?’

 ‘How about a general strike? Just stay home from your job, whatever it is, until they remove him. The 25thamendment? Impeachment? Whatever works,’ I said, slapping the table for emphasis.

            ‘You’re talking revolution my friend. Maybe civil war. Don’t forget there are plenty of people who still think this guy is the second coming and will take them all to heaven.’

            ‘Yes, another reason why we need a revolution.’

            ‘That’s thirsty talk. It’s good to see that you still have the fire in your belly.’

            ‘All I have are words and I can at least offer my opinion. Makes me feel like I’m doing something.’

            ‘What’s all the agitation about, fellows?’ Vicky asked while serving up some fresh brewskies. 

            ‘It’s that beast in the White House,’ Camp said. ‘Get’s him upset.’

            Vicky looked at me and shook her head. ‘You shouldn’t be watching the news every two minutes. Take a deep breath. He will pass. When I’m your age, he will be a distant memory.’

            I didn’t know if she tried to make me feel better or was making fun of me. Maybe just putting this moment in time into perspective. I hope there will be a future when all this can be remembered.  

Viva Cuba 

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‘You’ve been to Cuba?’ Camp asked me after our first brews arrived and we got comfortable in our usual seats on the lovely Gibson’s harbour.

            ‘Yes, a couple of times. Once in January 2008, a few months before Cuba got hammered by a devastating hurricane season. Fay, Gustav and Ike swept through the island causing widespread damage to homes, schools and livelihoods and displaced thousands of people. The other time was over 2019 New Year. We stayed in a pre-revolution villa in Vedado and drove around in Taxis like celebrities. There were items missing every day from the grocery shelves. One day you could get eggs or not, the same with toilet paper or even beer. One time I was told that they were out of beer. Imagine that. All in all, we enjoyed the people, the city of Havana and the dramatic country side in Viñales.’ 

            ‘Obama opened the embassy in 2015 and he was relaxing relationships with Cuba, allowing more visits and exchanges of goods and money with expats. That didn’t last long because in 2017 Trump suspended most services following those unexplained incidents known as the Havana Syndrome, where embassy staffers experienced eerie sounds and troubling brain abnormalities. A sonic device was suspected as the cause but no evidence has ever been found,’ Camp said.

            ‘Weird,’ I said, ‘not what Cuba needed at the best of times.’

            ‘And here we are, 67 years after the revolution and the people in the whole beautiful island nation are in the worst situation ever. Trump stopping Venezuelan oil shipments to the island nation only helped to cripple their economy.’

            ‘I know. It’s a humanitarian disaster. Thousands of tourists cancelled their Cuba vacations, travel advisories told people to stay away; outbreaks of Dengue and Chikungunya, both mosquito born diseases, ravaged the island and then comes Trump with his imperialistic and arrogant ambitions.’        

‘Just the other day he blinked and allowed the Russian tanker ‘Anatoly Kolodkin’ with 730’000 barrels of oil into the port of Matanzas, postponing a human catastrophe, for now at least. Food is scarce and difficult to refrigerate; hospitals are cancelling surgeries because doctors and nurses can’t commute to work; clinics are struggling to provide care because of the frequent power outages; ambulances are parked because they have no fuel and the bankrupt state can’t afford to buy medicines and flights are cancelled due to the lack of jet fuel. Private vehicles have to wait up to a month for a tank of gas and taxis are allowed to fill up once a week. People are siphoning off some of that gas and selling it on the black market for $40 a gallon.’ 

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Yukon – Into the Cold

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Someone said: I’d love to see the Aurora Borealis, commonly known as the northern lights. These are caused by solar storms or flares and coronal mass ejections which interact with the earth’s magnetic field causing these colourful displays of celestial phantasmagoria. Sounded great. Who wouldn’t want to see this natural light show? 

When is the best time to see this? Not in the winter when it’s dark for twenty-three and a half hours. Not in the summer when it never gets dark. Not in the fall when it’s still nice and temperate, even in the Yukon. ‘No, it’s best in the middle of March, just before breakup,’ someone said. Who is breaking up? Nobody. It’s the time when the ice and snow melts and the rivers groan and heave when they break into large chunks of deadly ice, jamming and damming along the banks, under the bridges and also taking away the ice roads which connect the two shores of the Yukon and the Klondike rivers during the winter months. We wanted to be there before that happened. We agreed on the first week of March as the time when all of us would be around (some of us spend the winters in the sun) and before the gardens needed attention. Temps should be wintry but not too cold and the skies would be clear.

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Epic Tragedy

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‘What do you think of Trump’s war against Iran?’ I asked Camp when we met for our weekly beer-chat at the Pub by the harbour.

            ‘You mean Epic Fury? The most arrogant and foolish misadventure of any president or dictator in recent history. There were other vengeful wars started for personal hubris from the Peloponnesian wars to Operation Barbarossa, Hitler’s disasterous invasion of Russia but nothing quite as senseless as this war with Iran. There is no plan, no clear objective and no easy way out. It’s just plain stupid.’

            ‘I knew you’d have an opinion, Camp. What’s really unfortunate is that this pointless war will impact everybody, everywhere and it will make life in Iran even harder for its citizens then it already was. More repressive, more isolated, more hopeless.’

            ‘I’ve read an essay by Peter Barker, former Chief White House correspondent. This is what he said last week: “Epic Fury captures the Trump presidency in its essence. It is a quintessentially Trumpian choice for the name of a war. Not for him an Operation Just Cause (Panama), Operation Restore Hope (Somalia), Operation Uphold Democracy (Haiti) or Operation Enduring Freedom (Afghanistan) or even Operation Iraqi Freedom or New Dawn. No uplifting sentiments like freedom and hope. Trump prefers rage. Everything Mr. Trump does, at least as he sees it, is epic — the biggest, the most, the first, “like we’ve never seen before,” as he likes to say. And much of what he does seems to be driven by fury. This is the Anger Presidency. Anger defines Mr. Trump’s decade on the political stage. Anger at foreigners who come to this country and change its nature. Anger at allies who take advantage of America. Anger at Democrats who cross him. Anger at Republicans who cross him. Anger at appointees he deems insufficiently loyal. Anger at prosecutors, F.B.I. agents, judges, journalists, law firms, elite universities, cultural figures, corporate leaders, pollsters, central bankers and the Norwegian Nobel Committee.”

            ‘Yes, that sums it up nicely,’ I said.  ‘It’s an Epic Tragedy for the whole world. To be ruled by an angry old man with nothing but hate and vengeful fury inside his head is indeed a tragedy unfolding.’ 

            ‘I’m waiting for the ‘No Kings’ demonstrations on the 28th March. A big turnout is expected across the USA. Will it change anything?’ Camp asked.

‘Probably not. It will make Trump even madder,’ I said. He would probably love nothing more than to deploy the troops out into the streets of his own country to squash all dissent and opposition. He will take it personally, I’m sure.’

‘Unless the army brass refuses to attack their own citizens, as they do in Iran and other autocracies, there will be no change, only more retribution, hate and fear. More disruption and chaos.’

‘Something to look forward to including higher fuel costs, airline tickets and groceries. Nothing like shocking the world economy into overdrive. And we got three more years to go unless he chokes on a cheeseburger,’ I said.

We both drank to that and right on cue Vicky showed up with two fresh ones. 

‘Did I hear cheeseburger? I thought you two lived on beer.’

Air-Travel in the Modern Age

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 ‘How was your trip?’ Camp asked first off. 

‘Travelling, or more precisely, flying is just not what it used to be,’ I said. ‘It’s a common refrain that I hear over and over, especially in airports.’

‘I suppose it’s true. It’s definitely not the same as back in the seventies when you could smoke on the plane, gourmet meals were incentives to get travellers to book with that airline, seats were generous and tickets were certainly cheaper,’ Camp said. ‘That’s why I don’t go anywhere. It’s best right here at home.’

‘I remember flying on a Jumbo Jet and the upstairs was an open lounge. Also, there was virtually no security. No searches, no stripping down to your socks at the automated roll-cages, walking through the body scanner and practically being cavity searched. Thanks to Richard Reed, also known as the shoe bomber, who in 2001 tried unsuccessfully to blow up a transatlantic flight from Paris to Miami, millions of people have to take their shoes off at airport security checkpoints the world over until this day. Back in the day, the name on the ticket didn’t even have to be your own. I sold a ticket from Vancouver to Montreal to my friend Derek because I didn’t need it anymore and he got it from me for a bargain.

‘I remember. You could also post your tickets for sale in the newspapers’ classified columns.  And you could show up an hour before your flight time.’

‘Imagine that. These days you have to arrive 3 hours prior to your departing flight and after you passed all the checkpoint and security procedures and pointless searches for contraband like water bottles or too big a tube of toothpaste you get to sit in overcrowded waiting rooms. Shopping is reduced to so called ‘duty-free’ shops which are just shiny booze and perfume outlets.’ 

‘I remember the days when there was a bookstore or two at the airport. A Smith or a Hudson News. Now, a few best sellers are displayed between glamour mags and junk food.’

‘Yes, travelling is a different kettle of fish these days. Hours and hours of pointless waiting in one line or another, waiting on uncomfortable seats with armrests so nobody can lay down. Restaurants are twice as expensive as anywhere else. A pint of beer is twelve bucks, a small glass of wine sixteen dollars. What’s with that? I guess we’re all one-time, no-return customers. Let me tell you about our latest trip, from Toronto to Vancouver. Simple, right? Our flight was scheduled to leave at 10AM. We were at the airport at 6:30. Clare likes to be first in line. After we found where the domestic bag drop was we joined the queue for the poxy security, then sat at the wrong gate until we figured out that there was a gate change.’

‘Nothing like relaxing under pressure,’ Camp quipped. I ignored his remark.

‘Finally, we were allowed to board, along with 300 other people. We found our seats, as usual at the back since we don’t like to pay for upgrades or seat selection. I figure we all get to our destination at the same time. We were lucky to find a space to jam our bag in the overhead bin. We had a middle and an aisle seat back in row 38. There were 42 rows on this Airbus which is more comfortable than the Boing 737. We were almost celebrating that the window seat was going to remain empty which would have given us more space to sprawl. It was not to be. ‘I took a s sip from my pint. ‘Here comes the good part.’

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Darwin vs John

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            As soon as Camp was comfortably seated with a pint in hand, I shared the article I read this morning in my Swiss paper.

            ‘Apparently it was Charly Dukes 90th birthday this month. Does that ring a bell?’

            ‘Can’t say it does, although the name is familiar,’ Camp said.

            ‘Charly is one of four still living moonwalkers. He was the tenth man to walk on the moon. It was the Apollo 16 mission in 1972. Together with his partner John Young, they arrived on the moon exhausted after a 6hour delay. His first words after stepping on the moon’s surface were famously recorded as: ‘Hot dog, is this great!’ He brought back moonrocks that were carbon-dated to be 4.5 billion years old. ‘

            ‘Sounds fantastic and it’s already 54 years ago but what is your point?’

            ‘Six years after this historic feat Charly had an epiphany. He found God and the bible which he believes word for word. It tells him that the universe is only 6000 years old and was created in 6 days. He’s a popular fellow these days as the Americans want to return to the moon. CBS invited him as an expert commentator.’

            ‘That’s all very interesting,’ Camp said, taking a sip of beer.

            ‘Charlie Duke’s dilemma is not unique, it is a reflection of the American, neo-Christian beliefs. Charly decided to believe in God, more precisely in the Book of Genesis or the book of Revelation and the Apocalypse by John that proclaims that the world was created in 6 days. On the 7th day, Sunday, God rested. Charly doesn’t see any contradiction with the age of the moonrocks he brought back. “You either believe what the Bible and God says or you believe in science, neither one of which anybody can prove.” According to the Duke, it’s more likely that science is wrong.’

            ‘Crazy talk but I see where you’re going with this. Charly Duke is not alone.’

            ‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘His views, despite having seen the evidence to the contrary, are pretty well representative of what a lot of Americans believe. Creationism is everywhere but especially popular in the US. According to a Gallup poll in 2024, 37 percent of Americans are convinced that God created the universe and humanity in the past 10’000 years. Only 24 percent believe in the scientific theory of evolution. Also, about 70 percent of US adults believe in the existence of angels.’

            ‘That goes to show why so many believe that grocery prices are sinking, despite the facts to the contrary and that Renée Nicole Good was killed by ICE agents because she drove over an agent not because she wanted to turn left. Millions also still believe that ICE is restoring law and order in Minneapolis and around the country. 

            ‘Well, according to Trump’s address to the nation, we are now in the Golden Age, created by him alone and he’s not talking about his golden throne or the gilded oval office.’

            ‘Yes, that was an embarassing gong show. A circus really, parading the men’s US Olympic Hockey team as the monkeys. Stand up, clap, pump fists, chant.’

            We concentrated on the liquid gold in our mugs. 

            When Vicky came around with another round, I asked her straight out if she believed in God. She looked at me funny, tilting her pretty head. ‘I believe in people and the world people created. God is just an idea and a concept. Too complicated for me.’

Sant Martin/Sint Maarten – West Indies

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Saint Martin/Sint Maarten is about 90sqkm and has around 70’000 residents; 44’000 on the Dutch and approx. 26’000 on the French side. Double that over the winter tourist season. Compare that to Grenada which is about 350sqkm with about 110’000 permanent inhabitants. Saint Martin is not considered a 3rd world country despite the appearance of some neglected neighbourhoods. 

The majority of residents are expats from other Caribbean islands. Both sides of the island have proper minimum wage legislation, social services, mandatory insurance and labor protections laws. Because Sint Maarten has no customs duty importing any kind of goods can be done within a reasonable cost. The stores are well stocked with all kinds of consumer goods and luxury items. In fact, Sint Maarten is a shopping destination for consumers from many other Caribbean islands and not only popular with the cruise ship crowd. 

The island features two main cities, Marigot on the French side and Philipsburg on the Dutch side, along with several smaller towns like Grande Case on the north-east leeward side. The town is a jumble of crumbling, dilapidated Créole houses next to new, modern shops; dirty, narrow alleys and crumbling sidewalks along water front boutiques and restaurants, catering to the tourists and locals alike.

Our friend Pierre introduced us to Lolo’s, a sprawling, busy Creole eatery with picnic tables seating a couple of hundred people right on the water front in Grand Case. The large bbq’s in a haze of greasy smoke were laden with ribs, chicken and fish. A loud, fun place and the prices were decent. The four of us ate and drank for 85 Euros. Ten percent tip included. 

Marigot, the French capital, is built around the harbour front where scores of multi-million-dollar yachts are docked. Ferries from here serve other close islands like St. Barts and Anguilla, both of which can be seen on the horizon. There is a small market offering beach wear and souvenirs and a row of cheap eateries catering to locals and tourists alike. We had a good lunch of crêpes at Sandy’s. 

Philipsburg is home to the international airport and cruise ship docks. A wide waterfront boulevard with beach bars and hotels fronts the harbour, also home to a dozen superyachts. There are two parallel shopping streets, one row back from the waterfront – the first one high-end and closed to traffic, the other one not so much. Both streets were lined with side-by-side tourist stores offering the same gaudy T-shirts, beach wear, souvenirs and luggage along with the usual name-brand fashion outlets and at least a dozen jewellery stores. Obviously catering to the cruisers. We were kind of disappointed. The only redeeming feature were some of the older buildings with Creole style ornamented facades. Philipsburg also has some residential high-rises which is the first thing we noticed while flying in to the island. Multi-storied 4 and 5star hotels and casinos, reminiscent of the other Dutch island, Curaçao, extend towards the Simpson Bay Lagoon and the airport. It looks more like Miami Beach than a small Caribbean island. 

The French side has hundreds of villas and condos spread along the beaches and bays and up the rocky inclines which are overgrown with impenetrable, green, thorny scrub. Both jurisdictions feature large supermarkets, box stores and malls and dozens of hotels and resorts. There are no gardens on the island because there is no water. Water is supplied from a desalination plant, not suitable for watering anything except the toilet and washing machine. 

In 2017, Hurricanes Irma and Maria devastated the island. Ninety percent of all infrastructure was affected, much like Carriacou in 2024. The island is still dotted with ruins that bake away, crumbling in the eternal sunshine.

Cars are forced to drive on potholed island roads with no curbs while pedestrians dodge along parked cars without sidewalks and parking is at a premium. Kamakaze motorcyclists weave in and out of traffic at frightening speeds, many with no helmets or protective gear despite countless speed bumps.  

It is a busy, sprawling island and we have to dig whatever French we know from the recesses of our old brains. C’est la vie. Mind you, most everybody speaks some English, especially on the Dutch side.  Restaurants are expensive and the tourists are mainly American. They are easy to spot.

If you’re a foodie, St. Martin is after all French. Think baguettes, croissants, Camembert, duck breast, pâté foie gras and of course French wines. No taxes, no duties. For example, a box of 18 bottles of 1664 beer is € 7.30 or US$ 8.40. The same goes for cigarettes or cigars. 

We were lucky to have a local friend who drove us around and showed us the local spots like Marcel Beach and the Little Beach. Pierre also had access to a couple of kayaks which we used frequently, paddling out to a couple of small islands in the Étang de la Barrière, on the north side.

It’s hot here, every day. There are mosquitos but not overwhelming. One of the main worries is the Sargassum seaweed that floats in large matt-like masses and clogs up the beaches and waterways. While decaying, it releases stinky and toxic hydrogen sulfide gas, causing health issues and forcing people to vacate their fancy beachfront homes during Sargassum blooms. They occur mostly during the summer months but earlier every year.

I would recommend Grenada over Sint Maarten/Saint Martin, simply because of the vibe, the friendly local people and the fact that it has plenty of water and is therefore lush and colourful. Also, St. Georges has a historic waterfront around the carenage that is both picturesque and authentic. 

AI

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Camp is away this week and I thought I’d take up the slack and dive into one topic that seems to be impacting our world, from finances to politics, from science to philosophy: Artificial Intelligence or AI.

Since neither I nor Camp know an awful lot about AI, I decided to read up on it. While scanning a myriad of articles on the subject a friend pointed me to this guy. Dario Amodei, co-founder of Anthropic, one of the leading AI developers. 

Here are some excerpts from two long essays he wrote in 2023 and 2025 respectively.  The first one: ‘Machines of loving grace’, is a bit of a love-story in which he expands on the usefulness and limitless potential of Artificial Intelligence and its effects on modern democracy and indeed the survival of it. The second essay deals with the possible risks and downsides. A more sober view. Both are very informative, written by Dario himself or his team of experts. 

https://www.darioamodei.com/essay/machines-of-loving-grace

https://www.darioamodei.com/essay/the-adolescence-of-technology#top

One concern in both developed and developing worlds alike is people opting out of AI-enabled benefits (similar to the anti-vaccine movement, or Luddite movements more generally). There could end up being bad feedback cycles where, for example, the people who are least able to make good decisions opt out of the very technologies that improve their decision-making abilities, leading to an ever-increasing gap and even creating a dystopian underclass. 

AI seems likely to enable much better propaganda and surveillance, both major tools in the autocrat’s toolkit. It’s therefore up to us as individual actors to tilt things in the right direction: if we want AI to favor democracy and individual rights, we are going to have to fight for that outcome. I feel even more strongly about this than I do about international inequality: the triumph of liberal democracy and political stability is not guaranteed, perhaps not even likely, and will require great sacrifice and commitment on all of our parts, as it often has in the past.

Just as feudalism became unworkable with the industrial revolution, the AI age could lead inevitably and logically to the conclusion that democracy (and, hopefully, democracy improved and reinvigorated by AI, as I discuss in Machines of Loving Grace) is the only viable form of government if humanity is to have a good future.

Another kind of disempowerment can occur if there is such a huge concentration of wealth that a small group of people effectively controls government policy with their influence, and ordinary citizens have no influence because they lack economic leverage. Democracy is ultimately backstopped by the idea that the population as a whole is necessary for the operation of the economy. If that economic leverage goes away, then the implicit social contract of democracy may stop working.

Related to this, the coupling of this economic concentration of wealth with the political system already concerns me. AI datacenters already represent a substantial fraction of US economic growth and are thus strongly tying together the financial interests of large tech companies (which are increasingly focused on either AI or AI infrastructure) and the political interests of the government in a way that can produce perverse incentives. We already see this through the reluctance of tech companies to criticize the US government, and the government’s support for extreme anti-regulatory policies on AI.

Taking time to carefully build AI systems so they do not autonomously threaten humanity is in genuine tension with the need for democratic nations to stay ahead of authoritarian nations and not be subjugated by them.