It’s time to rename Artifical Intelligence

Although AI is now a common part of our high tech lexicon, I have a problem with its semantical origins. As the European Union and national governments undertake complex debates about the legal, political, and ethical status of things containing AI, I think the source of this acronym – Artificial Intelligence – is fundamentally misleading.

First, here are the common definitions of these two words:

Intelligence = “the ability to acquire and apply knowledge and skills”
Artificial = “made or produced by human beings, rather than occurring naturally.”

According to these definitions, if intelligence is produced by human beings, it must be artificial. Thus, distinguishing between Human Intelligence and Artificial Intelligence is misleading. Both are a product of the human mind.

Perhaps the problem lies with the above definition of artificial. It separates human beings from the natural world, i.e. if something is made by humans it doesn’t occur naturally. But humans are a part of the natural world. We are flesh and blood animals, subject to all the same laws of nature that apply to lions, bees, and trees.

On a practical, purely functional level, ‘artificial’ is easy to understand. We all know the difference between a real hand and an artificial hand, real sugar and artificial sugar, real flowers and artificial flowers, etc. These are all physical objects that can be seen and touched and tasted. Common sense tells us the difference between real and artificial. But intelligence is an abstract concept.

Juval Noah Harari says that man is distinguished from other animals because we make up words for things that don’t exist in nature. These are abstract concepts. We have no trouble agreeing on the meaning of words that refer to palpable physical objects: a tree, a rock, a lion, a bird. But we also have words that apply to things you cannot see, touch, smell, or hear: justice, freedom, empathy, and yes, intelligence.

Language is only necessary between two or more people. An isolated, solipsistic hermit doesn’t need words to deal with his physical environment. However, when two or more people choose to live, work, hunt, and survive together, they need words to communicate. Words for physical objects are easy to agree on. But when it comes to abstract concepts, like justice or love, each person develops an image and meaning in their own head and tries to match it with what another person understands by those words. But we cannot get into another person’s head. We assume we share an understanding and maybe come close, but we never know for sure. The concept of love in one person’s head can be very different from that in another’s.

Over time we have developed an elaborate and complex system for defining words, based on common usage, accepted definitions, and socially agreed upon standards. But none of these are absolute. None of it exists outside the individual human mind, or the collective human mind we call society. Abstract entities like love, justice, freedom, and beauty don’t exist in the natural world. Other animals can’t see them. They exist only in the minds of humans. And because we each understand these abstractions differently, we debate their meanings. We have even gone to war over differences in our definitions of these concepts. (Religious schisms, which have led to the slaughter of heretics on both sides, often arise over the definition of one word.)

Intelligence too is an abstract concept. We can argue endlessly about what it means and how we recognize and define it. But it’s all in our heads. It’s human-made. And according to the above definition, anything that is human-made, and doesn’t occur in the ‘natural’ world is artificial.

Something is wrong here. I think it’s the definition of ‘artificial’. Everything, including humans and what they produce, are a part of the natural world. It can’t be otherwise. (Unless, of course, you want to bring in the supernatural, but that’s another topic.) But if you discard the word artificial and narrow it down to “made by humans”, you still have a problem. What we think of as intelligence – the aquisition and application of knowledge – is a human activity. It’s a human product. And it remains a human product whether you store it in your flesh and blood brain, or program it into an algorithim trapped in a silicon chip.

Either all intelligence is artificial, or none of it is. It’s time to put our minds to rethinking how we describe what we know.

Since AI has become a part of our accepted lexicon, perhaps we can resolve this problem by retaining the familiar acronym, but changing what it refers to. Two possibilities come to mind. Augmented Intelligence, or Autonomous Intelligence.

“Augmented” refers to something that has been made greater in value or size. A computer, silicon chip, or algorithm that can access, retain, and process more data than the average human mind could be called augmented. It knows and works with more.

“Autonomous” is sometimes defined as “having the freedom to act independently.” An algorithm built into a program is designed to perform its functions independently. You create it, kick start it, and it goes off on its own. One can argue that it isn’t totally independent because it is constrained by the program that created it. Nevertheless, once it begins to function, it does so independent of the humans who created it.

Perhaps there are other terms that can be used. I’m sure many will think of them. They may be better or more precise than my suggestions. But I offer them as a starting point for a discussion which I think will be necessary if we hope to get a handle on the legal, practical, or ethical implications and applications of AI.

One of the ironies of globalization (the natural phenomenon, not the ideology) is that many who seemingly oppose it are themselves inadvertently furthering it.

Since the advent of the Westphalian nation state it has been a mantra of traditional statesmanship that “we don‘t comment on or interfere in another country‘s internal affairs.” Interference, of course happens anyway, but until recently those in power reserved this for clandestine activities while publicly pronouncing their respect for the sacred sovereignty and territorial integrity of their global neighbors. We all wink and look the other way.

Not anymore. Since 2016 some of the most outspoken economic nationalists, anti-federalists, and anti-globalists have openly, actively, and brazenly interjected themselves into the politics of other countries. Thanks to Steve Bannon, a US President has proudly proclaimed his support for the Brexiteers in the UK‘s great domestic debate and had no qualms about identifying his favorite politicians in Britain‘s and Israel‘s recent selection of prime ministers. To return the favor, British politicians like Nigel Farage have joyfully expressed their preferences in a US presidential election. 

It comes as no surprise that former, still unreformed imperialist states like Russia actively pursue strategies to influence elections in other countries, especially real (but fragile) democracies. It‘s no secret that Russian money has funded Euro-sceptic political parties across Europe, influencing domestic elections as well as that of the European Parliament.   

But it‘s not just Russia. Many other sovereign states had a stake in the outcome of the recent US elections, be it to protect energy interests, further foreign policy priorities or spread ideological preferences. The extent to which they may have directly funded and supported individual US politicians is not yet fully known, but the evidence is growing. For example, according to a recent US House Oversight Committee finding, the United Arab Emirates helped write an ‘America First’ energy policy campaign speech for presidential candidate Donald Trump. 

When Robert Mueller was asked by a US Congressman if the exchange of information between Russian oligarchs and US election strategists was becoming typical for political campaigns, Mueller bluntly answered “I hope this is not the new normal, but I fear it is.”

What exactly is The New Normal? It‘s not totally clear yet, but the outlines are coming into view. Unilateralism is merging with multilateralism and vice versa.

On the one hand, anti-globalists disdain organizations like the UN and EU because they inhibit national sovereignty. Yet the same anti-interference advocates have no qualms about openly engaging in the policies and election campaigns of other countries. Your country is not only your business, it‘s our business too. 

Traditional statesmen of the old school continue to insist that Brexit is a decision for the British people to decide. But Phil Bryant, the Republican Governer of Mississippi recently spoke at a fundraiser for a new US-based organization called “World4Brexit”. Peggy Grande, Chair of W4B proudly stated, “We are here to support the democratic vote of the British people – they voted to leave the European Union and we want to make this happen.”

Unlike those Americans who welcome the breakup of the European Union as such, many potential ‘leavers’ within EU countries have backed away from their own Brexits and focused their guns on the creeping federalization of the EU. Here, the campaign to ‘Euro-globalize’ EU elections in 28 member states has already begun.

For example, Europeans have established many pan-European parties, some of which already function as European Parliament party groups in Brussels. Organizations like Volt want to go even further in the European Parliament elections and replace national party lists with pan-European candidate lists. Instead of voting for local parties and candidates from their own country, every European citizen would be choosing candidates from across the continent in all 28 countries. 

So far, these attempts at denationalizing the EU parliamentary elections have been rejected. But the longterm goal is clear: allow politicians, parties, and political strategists from one country to directly engage in the national elections of another. Achieve that at the European Parliament level and the slippery slope to ‘multi-national’ national elections gets liberally lubricated.

Some fear that globalization will concentrate power in capitals like Brussels, Beijing, or Washington, D.C. But when the leaders of one country pick favorites for leading other countries, they are globalizing world politics in a different way.

Attempts to influence the politics of other countries are not just the work of spycraft. It‘s a lucrative – and legal – business. Professional consultants, many from the US, are already collecting big fees for advising politicians in other countries. (In my country of Latvia, a former Republican campaign strategist openly advised a local Moscow-friendly party during the last parliamentary election.) But when those advisors become elected officials, take over governments, and continue to push their favorites as their official administration policy, the old concept of non-interference loses its meaning.

If this trend continues, multinational business interests, stateless oligarchs, and other national election ‘influencers’ will be supplemented by governments that openly support, finance, and endorse local parties in elections around the world.

In this dystopian future, the voters of France will be choosing among parties openly sponsored and represented by the governments of China, the US, Saudi Arabia, Russia, and Germany.  The parliament of Italy will consist of MP‘s representing parties called “The US Knows Best”, “Deutschland Uber Alles”, and “Russia Today and Tomorrow”. Imagine CNN hosting a future US Presidential Primary debate in Omaha between the Presidents of Turkey, Russia, and Hungary on a dias with the Prime Ministers of the UK, India, and Brazil. Each will argue why their interests best serve American interests. Each will have a favorite US party and a direct stake in the outcome of every election, be it local or national.

In a sense, the anti-globalists who feared that the UN would emerge as a world government will have achieved their goal. Power will not be centralized in a single global capital run by One World Politicians and an army of transnational bureaucrats. Power will be distributed around the world. But it will be wielded by everyone, everywhere and anywhere on the planet. And it will be controlled by those who have the money, know how, and resources to nimbly work The New Normal. 

In that case, the ultra-nationalists who disdain the cooperation that is encouraged by multinational bodies like the UN, IMF, World Bank, and EU will pursue it through through their own political party-based ideological transnationalism. One hand not only helps the other, it also votes for it. 

In a way, that‘s not so different from The Old Normal we have come to know and loathe. It‘ll just be more openly global than ever before.

(Contemplations on content and context)

Kindle and Spotify are my best friends. They are my favorite digital apps because they bring me two of my favorite things in life: words and music. I have turned to literature and music all my life for inspiration, comfort, edification, and pleasure. I loved books and records, not as physical things but because of what they conveyed. As techies are wont to say these days, they are wonderful “data carriers”, but it’s the cargo they deliver that really interests me.

Of course, as you savor a pleasure, you tend to become fond of the objects that bring it. I liked the feel of a book in my hand, and never turned up page corners or folded paperbacks in half because I didn’t want to sully their structural integrity. I liked them crisp, clean, and intact. I did sometimes write notes in the margins, albeit reluctantly because I disliked disrupting the purity of the page and its orderly rows of dutifully aligned words and sentences.

I also treated LP’s with tender care, if only to prevent scratches that would destroy their sound. The black shiny discs did have a groovy coolness about them that required a respectful handling by the edges, and the ritual of sensually slipping them in and out of album sleeves just added an elegant importance to the music it contained.

I especially enjoyed studying album cover art and their liner notes. They were objects of affection because they housed and conveyed such delightful sounds, and offered a visual dimension to the artistic message inherent in the music. Especially when some musicians like Frank Zappa took an active role in designing the visual packaging that housed his musical offerings. It was more than just music, it was a multimedia artistic statement.

But in both cases, the real object of my pleasure was not the packaging that delivered it, but the pure content. I read to understand and enjoy the ideas that are conveyed by the manner in which writers use words to form sentences and then assemble them into paragraphs and pages. For me, reading is a twofold pleasure: the artistry of the language and the depth of the ideas that are conveyed. It’s the same with music. Imaginative album design may enhance and expand the message in the music, but it’s the pure music, best enjoyed with eyes closed, that reaches deep inside me and stirs thoughts and emotions that few other stimuli can produce.

When I first discovered e-books I too was sceptical. But when I received a Kindle as a Christmas gift, I was forced to give it a try. It didn’t take long to embrace this new way of receiving those sacred words, sentences, and ideas. I had already been introduced to the concept of words on a screen thanks to computers and the Internet. As I soon learned, my Kindle did it all so much better.

Acquiring information through words is a professional necessity for me. My first exposure to digitalized newspapers quickly proved to be a much more efficient way to acquire large batches of information quickly. Reading the news on a TV-like screen of an IBM monitor didn’t have the physical embrace of holding a hefty newspaper in my hand but it sure did give me a lot more information in a substantially shorter period of time. The laptop brought the experience even closer, and the hand-held tablet started to feel like what reading a book or newspaper used to feel like. And with each technological innovation, the ease and efficiency of fishing for, hauling in, and processing large batches of information from increasingly more distant corners of the world became exponentially better.

The Internet gave me magazines, newspapers, blogs, articles, essays, and countless other sources of words and their inherent ideas, but my Kindle gave me books. Thousands of books. A seemingly endless array of books. Not everything in the world, but more than I could ever dream of reading. It gave me any book I wanted in seconds. Entire books, from the prologue to the epilogue.

In the past, if I heard or read of a book that sounded interesting, it would take weeks or even months to search for it. It meant going to the library or the book store, unless I knew someone with a copy. In any case it took time. But the Kindle in my hand was a magic door into a enormous library that contained almost as many books as Borges famous infinite Library of Babel. And I could open any one of them, any time I wanted, and start reading. Not only could I take books out of the Kindle library, I could keep them for as long as I wanted.

I once used to collect books and stack them on endless shelves. Now I could keep them all in my jacket pocket. Pocket books indeed. All I had to do was take my Kindle, poke the right buttons, and my Personal Library opened up right before my eyes. Anything man had written, published, disseminated, and stored over the last few thousand years was there for my taking. I could dialogue with Socrates, will my power with Nietzsche or run the streets of Dublin with Roddy Doyle. All while waiting in line at the airport.

While I remember a lot of what I read, I forget a lot as well, and like to go back to refresh my memory or lift a clever quote. In the past, relocating a passage I liked required two searches: first, I had to rembember where in the blazes I had stuck the book. My shelves were somewhat organized, but not greatly so. Second, once I had the book, I had to plunder thru the pages in search of the quote, not sure whether I had underlined it or not. Often enough, either task became too formidable and I gave up.

My Kindle cured all that. It takes a second to open my Kindle, another to open any book, and only a few seconds more to find anything I had highlighted, underlined or otherwise noted. It was all there. In Kindle, anything you highlight in a book gets compiled in a handy file that keeps each quote in sequence and can be instantly accessed with a tap. The file itself becomes my personal Cliff’s Notes summary of the author’s best and brightest observations. I can navigate any book at will, jump back to earlier passages, and re-read entire sections from different points of view.

I love words, collect as many as I can, and relish discovering the meanings of those I don’t understand. Kindle helps there as well. It’s a got a built-in library that delivers meanings at the touch of my finger. Another tap takes me to Google where I can expand my exploration with pictures, maps, and a near infinite web of pages that flood my curiosity with explanations and edifications. As a student I often passed over place names and other references, vowing to look them up later but I rarely did. I missed a lot.

Kindle gives me words and Spotify gives me music. A seemingly endless stream of music that pours down invisibly from the heavens in glorious torrents every minute of the day. Heraclitus be damned, this is one stream you can step into over and over and over again.

When radio was all there was, I was a captive audience of the ratings-driven marketing mavens who packaged everything they and their sponsors wanted me to hear. The airwaves were public but the sounds that traversed them were mercantilistically commercial. We had AM and FM and little transistor radios to catch the trickle-down tunes that were spoon-fed to us in between the ads. We grabbed whatever sounds came our way.

Of course, if I really liked something, and had the money, I would buy an album. Black vinyl had a brittle delicacy to it that enhanced the near ritualistic gesture of placing the disc on the roundtable and dropping the needle into a welcoming groove. But an LP was just a data carrier and what I was after was the music it conveyed. I wanted lots of it. Since albums cost money every impending purchase led to the same old dilemma: do I buy more of someone I like or explore new musical frontiers? The music that slowly filled my existential musical cocoon was wonderful but I knew that it was just a microcosm of all that was out there. The few sounds that I could get and store on vinyl, tape, cassette or CD were just the tip of the musical iceberg that was far out of my physical and financial reach.

Spotify broke the barriers of time, space, and meagre finances and put a world of music at my fingertips. Literally. Not only new music, but old music, odd music, familiar and obscure music. With a few taps I could access everything from classical to kinky. But the clever Swedes who created Spotify learned how to get into my head, figure out what I liked, and proceeded to give me even more of everything that tickled my musical fancy.

If I liked a particular genre, like blues rock, and listened to Walter Trout and Joe Bonamassa for a day, on the next day those clever cyberelves at Spotify would dish up a dozen other artists of the same ilk. “If you liked that, you might like this.” More often than not, I did. My music collection grew exponentially. It was all in my smart phone and that put it all directly into my head.

The old radio stations forced me to listen to prepackaged pop, while Spotify offered hundreds of genre-specific radio stations and playlists that far exceeded anything I could imagine. Spotify had mastered the mind-reading of which Gordon Lightfoot had so solemnly sung. They even read stuff that wasn’t in my mind but should be. I’m a big Steve Earle fan and find that I tend to like what he likes, but rarely had the opportunity to know what he listens to. On Spotify I can spend an evening sipping whiskey, sitting with Steve and digging the stuff that he digs. Invariably I have discovered dozens of new artists that have both inspired and emulated him.

Back in the previous century I used to make my own musical mixes on tape cassettes, which was time-consuming and filled endless boxes. Spotify streamlined all that. It lets me create playlists instantly, on the run, as I’m listening. And when I’m not assembling my own playlists, Spotify offers theirs, based on what they think I may like. Their insight is uncanny. One of my favorite Spotify-produced playlists is called ‘Swagger’, where I uncovered the feisty likes of Bones Owens, Barnes Courtney and Devon Gilfillian. Spotify wasn’t just a musical provider, it was a creative partner. We make and take beautiful music together.

While Spotify gives me a lot of new artists, it also allows me to rummage back into the past and discover old classics that I missed because in my youth when I was too broke to buy their albums for myself. These days I can explore the full repertoire of bands like Alice Cooper, Dream Theater, and Pentangle, while discovering heretofore unreleased releases by Bob Dylan, Alabama 3, and Jethro Tull.

Unlike a crystal ball, my smart phone can’t reveal the future. But it is a remarkable window into the past and is pretty nimble at keeping up with the present. I’m man of words and music, and my obsessively updating digital devices deliver them both. In spades. In seconds. In full color and stereo sound. At a moment’s notice, whenever and wherever I want

In his book ‘Sapiens, Yuval Noah Harari argues that the thing that makes our species so special is its uncanny ability to communicate. He writes, “We can connect a limited number of sounds and signs to produce an infinite number of sentences, each with a distinct meaning. We can thereby ingest, store and communicate a prodigious amount of information about the surrounding world.”

My Kindle and Spotify are nothing more than the latest technical iteration of that distinctly human penchant to communicate. Once we did it with smoke signals, tribal drums, and epic poetic recitals around the bonfire. Today those same words and sounds are suspended in the endless ether that envelopes us and we just have to reach out and pluck them. Doesn’t matter how it gets there, it all eventually goes to our heads.

Dylan needed a dump truck to unload his head. Kindle and Spotify keep filling mine up. A modern-day Dylan would simply call up an app that’ll clean out his cognitive cache. The times are still changing and so is the way we choose to harness them. But the song (and the thoughts) remain the same.

Ojars Eriks Kalnins

January 2019

Globalism vs Nationalism?

Not necessarily. We each define these terms as we see fit, but in my worldview they can be complimentary concepts rather than conflicting ones. I am a Latvian nationalist by conviction and profession but I see it in terms of protecting and preserving a culture, language, and traditions in the historical territory where it all came about. I live in a period of human history where the nation state is a still popular form of social organization among the 7 billion or so who share this planet, so taking pride in my nation’s small place on this earth tends to comes naturally.

But there are countless others on this planet who enjoy a different place, culture and perception of the world. We are many nations out there and all have an equal claim to pride of place. In my eyes, we are equal and different. That’s what makes life so interesting. Oddly enough I find myself appreciating my own nation more when I begin to appreciate the same – yet different – qualities in other countries. The more I travel, see, hear, and feel the diversity of human society, the more I enjoy my inherited bond and innate loyalty to my country. None of us are “better” than the others, but we are different and that’s a big plus. I may prefer one genre of music over others, but that doesn’t diminish the pleasure I get from the symphony of sounds the rest of the world has to offer.

So while I am a Latvian, I’m fascinated by what’s happening in the rest of the world. Each culture is unique and intriguing on its own, yet culture takes on a whole new dimension when these different cultures begin to interact, blend, and produce something totally new. Call it global culture. It’s a mixed mash of influences and inclinations that undergo spontaneous chemical reactions to create art and understanding of a very different nature. I see it as a bonus culture, one we can add to all the other national ones, including our own, for our mutual enjoyment. I may love single malts, but savor a masterful blend with equal intensity.

Like Aberlour and Chivas Regal, nationalism and globalism can coexist. I enjoy them both. As long as it’s a nationalism of pride and not superiority. And as long as that which is global doesn’t threaten or diminish that which we cherish as national.

Politically, national interests can be furthered by mastering the machinations of the cultural, technical, and social globalization happening all around us. It’s individual nations that make up the multinational organizations we participate in. It’s up to them to shape these organizations to serve their shared as well as national interests. Like joining any club, we try to further and enhance our individual interests by working together with others. Latvia has a much better chance of being Latvian by joining the European Union and working with Germans, Italians, Swedes, Dutch, and Luxembourgians who share our respect for national sovereignty, territorial integrity, and cultural identity. When countries that once fought each other start working together, they all have a much better chance of surviving and thriving. On their own, and together.

It all comes down to balance. Thanks to modern technology, the gravitational pull of globalization is inescapable. Even as we cling to our national identities, we are drawn to the currents, trends, and pressures of everything global. It affects our food, music, literature, film, sports, fashion and philosophy. Our daily national consciousness is endlessly invaded by international things. There’s no reason we can’t embrace both. My knowledge of English and French doesn’t diminish my fondness for Latvian. My enjoyment of lasagne, tacos, sushi, and kimchee detracts nothing from the rustic taste of Latvian rye bread.

I reject nationalism and globalism as ideologies. To me, they are natural phenomena that need to be understood and managed. They are not doctrines to be used as tools to further some particular set of values. But as long as values differ, and some are compelled to impose theirs on others, people will use whatever’s at hand to further their cause. Today, both nationalism and globalism are defined, exploited, and imposed in a wide variety of ways, and as always, for some it leads to conflict and contention. Sadly, when that happens, all sides lose.

We may want to fly, but gravity pulls us down. It’s pointless to curse it. Better that we learn how to use it to help us stand up, move about, and get to wherever we want to go. Eventually, while working with others, we can get off the ground much higher than we ever expected. Globalism, like gravity, is not a threat. It’s just a force we need to work with. Do it right and it can take us anywhere.

Ojars Eriks Kalnins

June 15, 2018

Why deviants of the world will never unite

Frank Zappa once said that the world cannot progress without deviation. That’s why deviants are so necessary.

One can quibble over the definition of “progress” but if you replace it with the word “change”, then Zappa’s judgement seems to ring universally true.

The world cannot change without deviation. Without deviation, to the right, to the left, up or down, everything stays as it is. It stagnates. It dies. Life is constant movement. Doing something. Anything. Just doing. The moment you stop doing you stop being. And every movement is a deviation from some previous position.

You can, of course, move straight ahead and will achieve something that could be perceived as progress. It may bring some change over time, but gradually. If it’s faster and more fundamental change that you seek, you must deviate from the norm. Leave the beaten path. Break out of the box. (Pick your metaphor.)

Global society must move to stay alive as well, which is why it has constantly changed over the last 30 thousand years. Some will say “progressed”, but that’s an argument that will persist until the proverbial cows come home. (Cows move too.)

Definitions of progress are based on designations of what is good and what is bad. Values. But even the endless arguments over values and the purpose of life (progress presumes a purpose) are another form of movement, action, and activity that keeps us alive and kicking. Disagreeing over progress always brings change in some form or another.

It applies to each of us individually and to society as a whole. We do because we must. What we do has no higher purpose than that which we ourselves give it. And it’s the clash of purposes that brings about change.

Looking over the 30 thousand year timeline of human existence it becomes evident that change in human existence comes about and is largely measured by human conflict. We mark our history by wars, revolutions, and other cataclysmic events. Yes, there are long periods of relative tranquility in between, but the major changes in society take place after conflict of some sort or another.

Deviations. The men who have moved society have been deviants. The movers and shakers. Those who shake things up and bring things down. They are active players who deviate from the norm and send society hurtling into a new direction. Whether what they do is good or bad depends on your point of view. But you can’t deny that they are doers and without them life would stagnate.

Stagnation was a fashionable word in the latter Soviet days but it’s been evident elsewhere whenever a society no longer accepts the status quo and seeks change. The United States I grew up in during the late 60’s was shaking off a period of stagnation and Frank Zappa was one of the many deviant factors that brought about major changes in society.

History shows that human societies have always sought change. Change for the better they hope, but change nevertheless, even if it goes bad.

Which it often does. Change arises from deviation and conflict, and in conflict there are winners and losers. Survival, one of the primal driving forces of life in all its forms, does indeed go to the fittest. While many humans have embraced the concept of equality as a desireable state in society, the very nature of life itself opposes that.

Granted, some life forms such as ants may appear to achieve and accept a state of equality in order to work for a common goal, but even that is impossible without a queen. And compared to all the other ants, equal as they may be, the queen is a deviant. She’s the driving force that keeps those ants moving and alive.

Changes that take place in the animal world are usually not viewed as progress, but simply evolution. A species gets “better” at its primary task – being alive – by evolving over time. Humans have a need to speed up the process.

That’s why we require deviants. We may love them or hate them, but without them nothing would change.

Which raises the question, is change a good thing, in and of itself? Why can’t we reach an acceptable state and keep it that way forever? That’s what Faust wanted, and it took Mephistopheles to remind him that nothing lasts forever. Constant change is the natural condition of life and if you hope to maximize your comfortzone while being alive, you best learn to accept and adapt to change.

And while the vast majority of people on this planet are struggling to accept and adapt to constant change in their lives, some, a select few, are trying to control it, guide it, and drive it. They are the deviants.

Probably the only thing deviants could ever unite on is their common desire to inaugurate change. And that’s good. Because if all the deviants of the world agreed on which way to go and why, they would cease to be deviants. And nothing would change.

August 30, 2017

Unlike the weather, everybody not only talks about war, but many actually do something about it. Some start them, others try to end them, and over the centuries mankind has devised all kinds of rules and regulations in a desperate attempt to control them.

I’ve been invited by the UK Parliament to participate in a Westminster conference debate in March over whether parliaments should have war powers and why. Since Latvia’s constitution gives all the power to the parliament (the voters elect us and we elect the government and president) the Brits have asked me to take the side of the “more power to the parliament” adherents. Someone else will take an opposing position, and the conference participants will take a vote. A very British ritual.

Which means that I have to take some time to study the history, legality, politics, and philosophy of declaring war. How has mankind done it for thousands of years, how has it changed, how is it now, and has anything in this whole warmongering process gotten any better? And what does ‘better’ mean when it comes to war?

One of the first things I learned was that Latvia has only declared war once in its 99-year history, and we “won” it. Back in 1919 the nascent Republic of Latvia formally declared war against Germany, and ended up on the right side of history when the Allies won and the Central Powers lost.

Oddly enough no wars have been “declared” since WWII, although it seems like there are wars of some kind or another going on all around us all the time on almost every continent. Nowadays we call them conflicts, military actions, joint operations, and armed aggression, but none of them have been declared as wars with the constitutional pomp and circumstance that once was common among nation-states.

Although no countries have declared war in over 70 years, every country with a constitution has a formal procedure for doing so. Just in case. Yet it’s difficult to imagine a case where a member of the UN could declare war since the UN Charter seems to forbid it. More or less. It allows for use of armed forces to defend one’s self, and the UN Security Council has authorized military force in places like Korea and Afghanistan, but these are not legally referred to as “wars”.

But most countries have a constitutional procedure for declaring war, and in most cases that declaration can only be made by a parliament. In Latvia, the President can only declare war if the Saeima has taken a decision to do so. The same applies to the use of armed forces in a conflict outside of Latvia. Only the 100 elected representatives of the voting public can decide to make or declare war.

The rational is simple. It’s the one versus many argument. Since war is undesirable, all efforts should be made to make it difficult. One leader – president, monarch, dictator – can do so on a personal whim. A group of elected officials is less likely to do so. Plus, the actual “wagers of war”, the soldiers, are members of society, and thus need to decide if they wish to fight. They also need the blessing of that society to fight. And if that society is united behind its parliamentary majority, there’s a better chance it will be united in conducting a successful war.

In addition, many constitutions assert that citizens have the responsibility and obligation to defend their country. If so, it seems logical that they would have the authority to decide when to defend and how, be it through a military action or formal declaration of war. Since the citizens elected the parliament to represent them, the parliament has the authority to decide – on behalf of the citizens – whether it is time to fight.

The bottom line? Nobody wants to go to war, and 21st century humankind has made all kinds of laws, regulations, and treaties to prevent war. But maybe, just maybe, if war seems necessary or inevitable, we humans make up rules to run it. We hedge our bets. We consider all possibilities. And even if we don’t want to do something, we figure out how to do it if we have to.

A few years back when nation branding expert Simon Anholt was interviewing civic leaders in Latvia he began each conversation with a simple question, “What is Latvia for?”

Anholt usually poses this question to help governments get their priorities straight before committing themselves to a nation branding strategy. What politicians invariably discover is that the pursuit of economic growth, tourism, and investment (the usual reasons nations seek a brand) is much easier if it is built on a solid set of clearly stated values. Ones they actually believe in.

A recently proposed text for a preamble to Latvia’s 91-year old constitution does exactly that. It tries to explain what Latvia is for, why it was created, and why it matters so much to the Latvian people.

Most constitutions tell us how someone plans to run a country, but they don’t always explain why. Many, like ours, were written right after a war and the number one priority was to get things running again. To the founding fathers, Latvia’s ‘reasons for being’ were self evident enough not to require a lengthy explanation. They figured someone else could do that in more stable times.

It appears that the required stability has arrived because a lot of people in Latvia from all walks of life are starting to actively debate the whys and wherefores of putting a preamble in front of our longstanding constitution.

The point of a preamble is to explain what you are for, and this one does it.

It states that Latvia is for many things, but most of all, it says that Latvia was created to allow the Latvian people to live in their native land, where they can fully embrace their language, culture, history and traditions.

While keeping Latvia as Latvian as it can be, the preamble also guarantees the same rights for everyone else, regardless of ethnicity, race or creed. It encourages a civic society and proposes three guiding principles of nationhood: democracy, justice and social responsibility. For all.

There are plants and animals that thrive best in a particular valley, along a particular river, in a locally distinctive climate, nourished by the food and water that exists only there. The same goes for human beings who have developed rich and varied cultures through this living interaction between man and nature. If we truly value this planet for its diversity, these cultures and their unique habitats should be preserved, nourished and encouraged. While Latvians can grow anywhere, they do it best in Latvia. The preamble encourages others to do so as well.

By tradition, a preamble should offer the legal and historical grounds upon which a state is based, and in Latvia’s case, that all began in 1918, was threatened by a half century of occupation, and was won back once again when full independence was restored in 1991. Legal experts call it continuity, but to the rest of us it simply means we are willingly accepting a legacy left to us by our grandfathers.

Once the legal precedents are established, the preamble presents the primary responsibilities of the Latvian state. In this case, they are: To promote the spiritual, social, cultural and material welfare of all who live here. To provide them with order and justice in a secure environment. To protect the land we love and all the things that grow, live and thrive on it.

It also adds one relatively new responsibility that may or may not be a sign of the times: it recommends that we pursue our economic interests in a ‘humane way’. After the global economic crash, many long for a kinder, gentler capitalism.

In forming a state, a society can agree on certain red lines that can’t be crossed without compromising the very reason the state was created. The preamble lists those as independence, territorial integrity, the sovereignty of the people, and Latvian as the only state language. In the minds of the authors of this text, these are Latvia’s untouchables. If the will of the people ends up approving this preamble, it places upon them a solemn responsibility to preserve and protect these principles.

But civic responsibility doesn’t end there. We are urged to take care of ourselves, our loved ones and our fellow neighbours for the good of society as a whole. We are asked to leave this state and land in good condition for the next generations. And we are reminded that both traditional and Christian values have shaped the historical Latvian identity.

Thus, in addition to the guiding principles of the state, the preamble also spells out the basic social values of the people who choose to live here. They include a respect for freedom, decency, honesty and solidarity, as well as the family unit.

But Latvia is not an island floating in the vastness of space, so the preamble also expresses some internationally state-like thoughts about its place in the global community. It stresses Latvia’s active contribution to the humane, sustainable, democratic, and responsible development of Europe and the world. Here we announce our desire to be good global neighbours.

The first draft of the preamble has been made public and as expected, a vigorous and lively debate has ensued. Some question why we need one, some wonder whether we’ve said enough. Everyone will have a say and the process could take a long time before we all agree on the words and the way they reach final approval, either by parliamentary vote or referendum, or both.

It does answer Simon Anholt’s existential question, and someone even saw it as a pre-birthday present for Latvia’s 100 anniversary in 2018. Of all the commentaries I have read, my favourite is a woman who took to Twitter to share a revelation after reading the preamble over and over again. Her observation was aptly poetic. She saw it as a love letter to Latvia. I’m all for that.

October 30, 2013

A cursory look at Latvia’s National Development Plan 2014-2020 would suggest that foreign policy seems to play a very small role in Latvia’s future. The Foreign Ministry is solely responsible for only one section and that primarily deals with strengthening Latvia’s political and economic interests abroad.

However, each ministry is assigned a “Territory of Responsibility.” Here the Foreign Ministry takes on enormous importance, because its sphere of operation is designated as “The Whole World”.

Clearly, Latvia’s foreign service cannot embrace the entire world, so it is natural to divide that world into regions of priority. For the purposes of the Latvian Parliament’s annual Foreign Policy Debates, I’ve chosen to isolate those priorities by segmenting Latvia’s foreign policy world into concentric circles of interest. I have identified six such circles.

The first and closest circle includes our immediate neighbours: Lithuania, Estonia, Belarus and Russia. While relations with all these countries are important economically, they are much more complex and diverse politically. They will remains a top priority in 2013.

The second circle is slightly larger, and includes the Baltic Sea region and the Nordic countries. Here we continue to develop good ties in such multi-lateral formats as NB8, the Nordic-Baltic Council and the Council of Baltic Sea States. This year Latvia hosts the Baltic Development Forum and in 2015 during our Presidency of the European Union, we plan to organize a special forum on the EU’s Baltic Sea Strategy.

But in 2013 most of our attention will be focused on the third circle, where I have placed the European Union and NATO. Both organizations expand our areas of direct foreign engagement, although at the moment the greatest challenges lie in the EU itself, and our place in it.

This third circle also reveals the geographic direction of our interest in the fourth circle: the EU’s Eastern Partnership. Cooperating with and supporting such eastern neighbours as Georgia, Ukraine, and Moldova has always been a priority for Latvia. Direct person-to-person ties in these countries dating back to pre-independence periods has enabled Latvia to make robust use of Cooperative Development programs, which need to be expanded. Latvia also plans to host an Eastern Partnership Summit during our EU Presidency in 2015.

History, economic interests, and Latvia’s foreign policy priorities also determine the geographic direction of our sphere of interest in the next, fifth circle: Central Asia and Afghanistan. Latvia’s embassies in Uzbekistan and Kazahkstan have been extremely successful as contact embassies for NATO, and have developed a special expertise and respect in the entire region. This needs to be expanded.

Latvia’s role in the NATO ISAF mission in Afghanistan has produced a unique opportunity for long-term economic development as well. Working together with the US, Russia, NATO and regional countries, Latvia plays a key role in the Northern Distribution Network – the transport corridor for shipping NATO ISAF supplies from Latvia to Afghanistan. This has enormous future potential, for the moment that this network becomes a commercial transhipment corridor and connects to the planned New Silk Road, the door will open for Latvia’s road to the sixth and last circle, the Far East.

If until now such countries as China, Japan, Korea and India didn’t seem within reach of Latvia’s foreign policy grasp, then today they are very palpable. China and Japan have very active embassies in Riga and soon will be joined by South Korea. These countries are part of one of the most dynamic and rapidly growing regions in the world, and are looking with growing interest at Latvia’s strategic location in Northern Europe. The time has come to focus much more attention to this region, and determine how economic and political developments there can be aligned with Latvia’s long-term national interests. While some commentators have made much of the United States’ ‘pivot’ to Asia, it’s only natural that Europe does the same. Thanks to Latvia’s eastward tangent through the six circles of foreign engagement, this once distant region of the world is the logical next step in the long-term expansion of our international diplomacy.

Last year, the Latvian Foreign Ministry took a bold (and necessary) step in providing the framework for Latvia’s ‘pivot to the Far East’. It established an ‘External economic policy coordinating council’, which brings together the Foreign, Economic, Transportation and Agricultural ministries, as well as other state institutions. This institutional model of cooperation is ideally suited to review and analyse just how Latvia’s economic interests, geostrategic location and existing logistical and transportation links to the east can be further developed to promote our national interests. Suddenly, the Far East no longer seems so far.

Latvia cannot embrace the world, but thinking strategically about our potential long-term interests in specific geographic directions and regions, Latvia’s foreign policy can play an essential role in promoting our national interests. We are moving in the right direction. But we must move faster, further and with a greater understanding of Latvia’s unique place in a globalized world.

(Adapted from a speech given during the Latvian parliament’s foreign policy debates on January 24, 2013.)

You probably don’t have a ‘policy’ toward foreigners. Most people don’t. We just deal with ‘em as we meet them.

If you live in a city like London or New York it feels like everyone is a foreigner. Them or us in an ethnic sense doesn’t mean much in a melting pot; we all become strangers in the big stew. If you have a policy of any kind, it’s toward people as such, regardless of their passports. You just want to know whether they are good or bad.

But if you are a country, or represent one, a foreign policy has always been a necessity. We live in a world of nearly 200 countries, and regardless of which one you happen to be, the other 199 are ‘foreign’. That’s by definition. They not only speak different languages, they have different laws, traditions, anthems and national sports. Not to mention visa requirements.

Every country has its internal policies, but every country also has a foreign policy for dealing with those 199 other “foreign” countries that share this planet.

This month Latvia will mark the 90th year since it first established a foreign policy. Such a policy came about because 90 years ago, on January 26th, 1921, Latvia became a foreign country too, along with all the others in the world. If you have a country, you need a policy toward everyone else, and in 1921 Latvia began to earnestly regulate its relations with the rest of the globe-spanning international community.

Those relations were abruptly cut short in 1940 by the Soviet occupation of Latvia. That was followed by a Nazi occupation, which was followed by a second Soviet occupation, which lasted until we declared our independence once again on May 4, 1990. One year later, on August 21, 1991, the international community restored its broken relations with Latvia, and Latvia in turn began rebuilding its ties with everyone else in the world.

We were back in business, globally speaking, and that meant the restoration of direct diplomatic contacts and the re-establishment of embassies, consulates, missions, permanent representations and other forms of interaction with the world’s other countries. We also joined every international organization that would take us, from the UN, OSCE, and WTO to NATO and the EU.

Looking back at Latvia’s foreign policy since 1991, you could divide it into three periods. 1) 1991-1995, re-establishing international relations and removing Russian (former Soviet) troops; 2) 1995-2004, preparing for membership in NATO and the EU; 3) 2004-2010, learning what it means to be EU and NATO members.

Latvia’s last official Foreign Policy Concept was written and approved in 2006 and lasted until 2010. It was largely focused on NATO, the EU, regional Baltic relations, promoting economic interests, and strengthening ties with Latvia’s diaspora.

This year, on January 27 (a day after de jure recognition day) the Latvian parliament will do something it has never done before. It will hold debates on foreign policy. 100 deputies will have a chance to express their views on how Latvia should relate to the 200 or so other countries in the world. The question of the day is very straightforward: what kind of a foreign policy does Latvia need to be a vital and thriving member of this planet? (And a good place to live?)

No doubt many of the issues that dominated our foreign agenda for the last 5 years will continue to shape our national priorities: the EU, NATO, the economy, the Baltic Sea region and bilateral relations with neighbours and other countries around the world. We want to do business with the world and share our knowledge, culture and values with others.

While political scientists make a respectable living analyzing the strategy, tactics and practices of modern foreign policy, it still all comes down to people. There are over 6.8 billion of us sharing this planet, and we’ve found that organizing ourselves into 200 or so countries (which form thousands of additional international and transnational organizations) is one way to regulate our lives and relate to one another.

We do so as countries because despite the unrelenting tsunami of cross-cultural globalization, we retain a firm, stubbornly primeval grasp on the joys of national identity. At least Latvians do. We created this country in 1918, lost it in 1940, got it back in 1991 and have been shaping and forming it ever since. We may not always agree on what to do with it, and will continue to engage in endless debates about where it should be going, but the bottom line at the end of day is this: we sure enjoy having it.

In Latvia, we celebrate the anniversary of our independence by laying flowers at the foot of our biggest dreams.

We pay homage to a past that seems larger than life and is no doubt both worse and better than it really was. The truth of Then comes to life in the conviction of the Now. Historians can and should argue about the facts, but for those of us who embrace the joys of nationhood, it’s the feelings that count.

It feels good to live in a country that speaks your language. In a place where you truly feel at home. Such feelings, of course, can exist in any language in places all around the world, but fate made me and a few million others into Latvians, and like everyone else on this planet, we think that our feelings are unique.

Well, of course they are. They are hard to describe sometimes because feelings are driven by emotions that can’t always be put into words. Poets try, and sociologists vie with psychologists to explain it all in terms only they understand, but the bottom line is a gut feeling that defies all verbalization.

So we express it through sacred rituals, like placing flowers at the foot of a monument in the heart of Riga. The monument was built only 75 years ago but it seems to embody a national feeling that goes back distant centuries. It depicts selfless warriors, founding fathers and all-embracing mothers. We use symbols of the past to give us strength in facing the future.

In our national anthem we sing of girls that blossom and boys that sing, and then pay tribute to another big dream: that our sons and daughters will dance in happiness in this land. We know that life consists of ups and downs, and in the last few years the downs have dominated, but when we sing about our kids and look at Mother Latvia at the tip of our monument, we look up.

Are things looking up in Latvia today? Latvian Independence Day is one of those times when even the most cynical and skeptical Latvians are allowed to dream. We dream about our ancestors and invite them into our hearts and homes to visit, hoping they will remind us why having a country called Latvia is so important.

We also dream about our children and grandchildren and their children as well, and hope that they will take our dreams even further. Then we take those kids to the foot of the monument and teach them the power of flowers. And the magic of dreams.

I happen to be a firm believer that dreams can come true. And that’s not a feeling, it’s a fact. Because back in 1978 I stood at the foot of that monument in the heart of Riga and had a dream that was truly bigger than life and beyond the realm of rational expectation. It defied the odds of probability and flew in the face of the ruling realpolitik and prevailing political prognostication.

That’s why I’ve been going back to that monument ever since. If you find a place where dreams can come true, you should stick with it. And always bring flowers.