The Many Colors of Slavery

Those who deny freedom to others deserve it not for themselves.”—Abraham Lincoln

Whoever does not have two-thirds of his day for himself, is a slave, whatever he may be: a statesman, a businessman, an official, or a scholar.” — Friedrich Nietzsche

As the great continental glaciers receded at the end of the Pleistocene, fertile land emerged, allowing for the transition from hunting and gathering to agriculture. Farming was labor-intensive, and with the rise of permanent settlements came the demand for constrained and controlled labor. Slavery, likely with first roots in Mesopotamia, though independent manifestation by the Pharaohs in ancient Egypt and other early civilizations, made it ubiquitous, and it has never disappeared.

From the bonded laborers of the Pharaohs to the structured servitude in Greece and Rome, from the transatlantic trade that brutalized African populations to the modern exploitation of migrant workers in sweatshops and the sex trades, slavery has evolved rather than vanished. Each era refines its own form of servitude; forced labor, insurmountable debt, bureaucratic entrapment, or corporate exploitation. It is a practice as ancient as prostitution and taxation, deeply embedded in human society, yet constantly shifting into less visible but equally insidious forms. As long as slavery remains profitable its existence will continue to indelibly stain humanities’ collective soul.

Slavery, and its ultimate contrast, freedom, was a persistent theme in the works of sci-fi author Robert A. Heinlein. With a piercing social awareness, Heinlein, who, in his early years, was described by Isaac Asimov as a ‘flaming liberal’—picked up the theme and horrors of slavery with his 1957 juvenile novel “Citizen of the Galaxy”; bringing the many forms of servitude into the personal history of a precocious kidnapped boy named Thorby. Citizen of the Galaxy is a planet-hopping, spacefaring critique of oppression, class structure, and the nebulous concept of freedom. Heinlein crafts a future where contrasting societies across the galaxy reflect varying degrees of servitude and autonomy, if not necessarily total freedom. Man rarely allows himself complete independence.

Heinlein through the lens of Thorby explores the various shades of slavery, beginning with the brutal, controlling enslavement and continuing to more subtle forms that the individual may not even recognize as confinement. (Partial plot giveaways beyond this point.) Escaping his initial enslavement by the graces of a kindly, strict, but loveable old cripple named Baslim, Thorby moves into a hierarchical, structured existence of spacefaring traders then onto a self-imposed, due to a thirst for justice, straitjacket of a corporate bureaucracy on his birth planet of Terra. A life story of how control can be imposed by others or by ourselves.

As Heinlein’s social perspectives evolved, his libertarian leanings took greater prominence in Citizen of the Galaxy. Through Thorby’s life journey, Heinlein emphasizes personal autonomy, resistance to tyranny, and the moral duty to fight injustice. Baslim, Thorby’s first mentor, symbolizes the idea that one person can stand against oppression and make a difference, even if it takes many miles and years to materialize.

This theme runs through much of Heinlein’s work, but here, it’s especially poignant because Thorby is powerless for much of the novel, making his eventual triumph all the more meaningful. Heinlein’s novels, Farnham’s Freehold, Friday, and Time Enough for Love, explore slavery and control, reinforcing humanity’s inherent need for freedom, or at the very least, breathing space.

Source: Citizen of the Galaxy by Robert A. Heinlein, 1957. Graphic: Joseph Sold into Slavery by Friedrich Overbeck, 1816. Vanderbilt University. Public Domain.

Kinder Surrealism

I feel the need of attaining the maximum of intensity with the minimum of means. It is this which has led me to give my painting a character of even greater bareness.” Joan Miro.

Joan Miró (zhwahn mee-ROH, 1893–1983), a Catalan artist, began his career exploring Expressionism and Cubism before rejecting the rational world, which he found suffocating possibly depressing. He turned inward, merging an abstract dreamworld with Surrealism, ultimately evolving into a minimalist, conveying deep meaning through sparse, naïve brushstrokes and colors.

Symbolism became his hallmark; for Miró, the image was secondary to the message which was always open to interpretation. Initially inspired by Van Gogh and Cézanne, he later grew enamored with Picasso and Dalí, but it was Sigmund Freud who awakened his subconscious, plunging him into the mysteries of dreams and hallucinations. In pursuit of these visions, Miró intentionally induced states of hunger and exhaustion, risking madness to capture the fleeting essence of his dreamscapes. His dreams produced a primitive, childlike, whimsical innocence, with no explicit instructions for interpretation.

Miró’s early masterpiece, The Farm (1921–22), serves as a biographical snapshot of his life at 29, capturing the essence of his Spanish countryside upbringing and young adult life. This highly detailed precursor to his later Cubist and abstract works was purchased by Ernest Hemingway for 5,000 francs as gift to his wife.

By 2024, Miró’s works continue to command prices that place him among the top 25 most valuable artists worldwide. His Peinture (Étoile Bleue), or Painting (Blue Star), one of his best-known dreamscapes, sold for £23.6 million at a London Sotheby’s auction in 2012, equivalent to $37 million at the time, or approximately $31.5 million in today’s dollars.

Source: Miró by Gaston Diehl, 1979.  Graphic: The Farm (1921–1922), National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C. (Public Domain)

Decline Post Bretton Woods

Bretton Woods, a monetary system established during World War II, sought to stabilize the global economy by making the US dollar the central currency for international trade. Other currencies were pegged to the dollar, which foreign governments could convert into gold bullion at a fixed rate. This framework functioned effectively for decades, however, by the late 1960s, inflationary pressures stemming from the Vietnam War and the domestic spending initiatives of the “guns and butter” era, coupled with a growing accumulation of US dollars in foreign accounts, strained the system’s stability. In 1971, the United States suspended the dollar’s gold convertibility, effectively collapsing the Bretton Woods framework and transitioning to a market-based system of freely floating exchange rates, setting the stage for the dollar’s decline.

Since the demise of Bretton Woods, the US dollar has lost approximately 85% of its purchasing power due to inflation, a monetary phenomenon driven by increases in the money supply. Free trade has exacerbated US economics, including the loss of 6.8 million manufacturing jobs between 1979, the peak of manufacturing employment, and 2019. Many of these jobs shifted to China after its entry into the World Trade Organization in 2001. Middle-class wages have stagnated, remaining at an average of $40,000 per year (adjusted for inflation) since 1970, while housing costs have tripled to $400,000. Meanwhile, the rising costs of child-rearing, $310,000 per child in 2023, have contributed to a declining fertility rate, which has fallen from 2.5 to 1.6 children per woman.

China’s role in US economic decline is significant with a trade deficit of $263 billion in goods and services for 2024 alone. Chinese tariffs protect key industries such as steel and electronics, leaving US manufacturing unable to compete. Federal Reserve policies, including a 40% increase in the M2 money supply since 2020, have inflated asset prices like homes and stocks but failed to meaningfully raise middle-class wages. Wealth inequality has intensified, with the top 1% controlling 40% of the nation’s wealth while Middle America’s share continues to shrink. Trade deficits reached $1.2 trillion in 2024.

Trump’s tariffs can be seen as a reaction to these trade imbalances and loss of domestic manufacturing. Additionally, new measures are seeking to rewrite regulatory and fiscal policies, to address these global inequalities. By 2030, projections suggest 2 million new jobs could be created, including 200,000 to 300,000 directly tied to tariffs, with blue-collar median wages rising to around $60,000. A stronger dollar, inflation below 2%, and a revived manufacturing base could potentially revive the American middle-class, making families more optimistic about the future. Continuing on the same trajectory as the past 50 years risks further erosion of the American dream.

Real Not Real

Have no fear of perfection; you’ll never reach it.” – Dali.

Salvador Dalí was the entertaining, surrealist voice of the masses. His dreamlike spectacle of melting clocks and flamboyant persona captivated popular culture, injecting eccentric brushstrokes into the lives of the disengaged and disinterested. Dalí spoke directly to the public’s fascination with dreams and absurdity, transforming art into a theatrical experience and a giggly poke at the eminent egos on high altars.

Dalí was a 20th-century Spanish artist who drew from influences such as Renaissance art, Impressionism, and Cubism, but by his mid-twenties, he had fully embraced Surrealism. He spent most of his life in Spain, with notable excursions to Paris during the 1920s and 1930s and to the United States during the World War II years. In 1934, he married the love of his life, Gala. Without her, Dalí might never have achieved his fame. She was not just his muse but also his agent and model. A true partner in both his art and life. Together, they rode a rollercoaster of passion and creativity, thrills and dales, until her death in 1982.

Dalí had strong opinions on art, famously critiquing abstract art as “inconsequential.” He once said, “We are all hungry and thirsty for concrete images. Abstract art will have been good for one thing: to restore its exact virginity to figurative art.” He painted images that were real and with context that bordered on the not real, the surreal. For those who believed that modern abstract art had no life, no beauty, no appeal, he provided a bridge back to a coherent emotional foundation with a dreamlike veneer. Incorporating spirituality and innovative perspectives into his dreams and visions of life.

The Persistence of Memory (1931) is Dalí’s most recognizable and famous painting, but his 1951 work Christ of Saint John of the Cross is arguably his most autobiographical and accessible piece. A painting dripping with meaning and perspective, Dalí claimed it came to him in a dream inspired by Saint John of the Cross’s 16th-century sketch of Christ’s crucifixion. The perspective is indirectly informed by Saint John’s vision, while the boat and figures at the bottom reflect influences from La Nain and Velázquez. The triangular shape created by Christ’s body and the cross represents the Holy Trinity, while Christ’s head, a circular nucleus, signifies unity and eternity: “the universe, the Christ!” Dalí ties himself personally to the crucifixion by placing Port Lligat, his home, in the background. He considered this painting a singular and unique piece of existence, one he likely could never reproduce because the part of him that went into the painting was gone forever.That part is shared with his viewers, offering a glimpse into Christ’s pain, Dalí’s anguish, and his compassion: an emotional complexity that transcends mortal comprehension.

Source: Salvador Dali by Robert Descharnes, 1984. Graphic: Christ of Saint John of the Cross, Dali, 1951. Low Res. Copyright Glasgow Corporation.

Divine Right to Rule–Not

Sir Robert Filmer, a mostly forgotten 17th century political theorist, claimed that kings ruled absolutely by divine right, a power he believed was first bestowed upon Adam.

In his First Treatise of Government, John Locke thoroughly shredded and debunked this theory of divine rights of monarchs to do as they pleased. Locke with extensive use of scripture and deductive reasoning demonstrated that ‘jus divinum’ or the divine right to rule led only to tyranny: one master and slavery for the rest, effectively undermining the natural rights of individuals and a just society.

Filmer, active during the late 16th to mid-17th century, argued that the government should resemble a family where the king acts as the divinely appointed patriarch. He erroneously based his theory on the Old Testament and God’s instructions to Adam and Noah. He used patriarchal authority as a metaphor to justify absolute monarchy, arguing that kings can govern without human interference or control. Filmer also despised democracies, viewing monarchies, as did Hobbes, as the only legitimate form of government. He saw democracies as incompatible with God’s will and the natural order.

Locke easily, although in a meticulous, verbose style, attacked and defeated Filmer’s thesis from multiple fronts. Locke starts by accepting a father’s authority over his children, but, in his view, this authority is also shared with the mother, and it certainly does not extend to grandchildren or kings. Locke also refutes Filmer’s assertion that God gave Adam absolute power not only over land and beast but also man. Locke states that God did not give Adam authority over man for if he had, it would mean that all below the king were ultimately slaves. Filmer further states that there should be one king, the rightful heir to Adam. Locke argues that there is no way to resolve who that heir is or how that could be determined. Locke finishes his argument by asserting that since the heir to Adam will be forever hidden, political authority should be based on consent and respect for natural rights, rather than divine inheritance: a logical precursor to his Second Treatise of Government, where Locke profoundly shaped modern political thought by advocating for consent-based governance.

Source: First Treatise of Government by John Locke, 1689. Graphic: John Locke by Godfrey Kneller 1697.  Public Domain.

Swollen Caricatures

Fernando Botero Angulo, 1932-2023, was a Columbian practitioner of figuraism in paint and sculpture, a style where reality is discernable but changed to reflect the artist’s interpretation of his or her world. His unique style has taken on a life of its own and has become known as Boterismo where he exaggerates reality by inflating his objects, mimicking a fat farm on a carbo diet, injecting, according to some, a humor inherent in his plus sized models but it all seems so melodramatic. A melancholic need to explore life’s downsides, forcing the viewer to share not the beauty of life but its complexities and vulnerabilities. There is no happiness in his paintings, just a humorless life.

His style, not far removed from Legar’s Tubism, was the artist’s attempt to find himself and to relieve the self-inflicted anxiety that came from his mode of outward expression not matching his inward vision. He states that “…the moment comes when the painter manages to master the technique and at the same time all of his ideas become clear: at that point his desire to transpose them faithfully onto the canvas becomes so clear and compelling that painting becomes joy itself.”

Botero’s 1999 painting, “The Death of Pablo Escobar”, a mafioso interpretation of Chagall’s “Fidler on the Roof”, was an attempt to capture the violence that the drug kingpin brought to Columbia and the world. Standing atop Columbian society, Escobar was laid low by his chosen swordian method of rule: bullets. The artist’s son Juan Carlos Botero states that his father wanted to reflect on the magnitude of the tragedy that Escobar’s actions meant for Columbia, but he also magnified the beast in the man, reminding the world that Columbia and Escobar were once synonymous. A cruel man ruling over a dysfunctional society that he created.

Source: Botero by Rudy Chiappini, 2015. Graphic: The Death of Pablo Escobar by Botero, 1999.

Bottle Bottoms

The bottom of your wine bottle is more varied and interesting than one would initially expect. They come flat, convex, textured, embossed, thickened, punted, and two-tiered. As varied as Samwise Gamgee’s potato servings.

Starting with the easiest to manufacture and thus likely the cheapest is the flat bottom wine bottle. And because it doesn’t conform to historical and aesthetic traditions it’s also the rarest. The flat bottom is more likely to be encountered in the spirit world, but Aldi-Chapter and Verse and Garcon wine labels sell flat bottoms, generally to the casual wine enjoyment crowd, with wines rated as good in the 83–85-point range. Interesting enough Garcon bottles with flat bottoms are also squashed into a flat oval like a quarter mile running track, so they fit into UK letterbox openings.

Although rare, a very slight convex bottom is also used on some bottles, mostly liqueurs such as Galliano for aesthetic reasons. The bottles that employ this feature require some additional features to keep them upright on store shelves.

Textured and embossed bottoms are a common feature in the fine wine market. The textured bottoms are mainly for stability, keeping the bottle in one place on a wet surface such as bar or table. Occasionally practical details such as volume or manufacturing symbols are embossed on the bottom of the bottle, with higher end wines also adding in branding, batch numbers, and other unique marks.

Thickened bottoms are usually restricted to bottles needing extra stability when standing upright or to supply structural support for wines under pressure such as Champagne or Prosecco.

Which brings us to the ever-present punt on the bottom of almost all retail wine bottles. They have been in use for centuries creating the classic lost-to-the-past conundrum of why it was there in the first place. This forgotten history has created myriad possibilities for the small inward cone at the bottle’s base. In manufacturing the punt ensures a more consistent base plus it makes the bottle stronger. On the practical side it is theorized that the punt helps collect sediment at the bottom, improves grip on the bottle, or it helps create the illusion that the bottle has a larger volume.  Then there is aesthetics, a punt just looks cool. In the end no one knows why it exists, but everyone has a theory.

Finally, there are two-tiered bases where a flat bottom covers over the punt creating a hollow enclosed cavity. An example is the DobleAlto dual tiered base bottle that mixes and matches the order of the punt and flat bottom such as shown in the graphic where the flat bottom is above the punt. The two-tier base may have been invented for structural integrity reasons but most likely it was a way to make a product stand out from its competitors.

Getting to the bottom of bottoms is an involved process. Happy investigations and cheers.

Graphic: DobleAlto bottle from Global Package.

Paris in the Evening

Henri Toulouse-Lautrec, born in 1864, was a unique figure among French nobility and artists. Despite his diminutive stature and aristocratic lineage tracing back to Charlemagne, Lautrec defied conventional expectations with his eccentric, mischievous character, and individualistic style. While influenced by the Impressionists, exemplified by masters like Monet and Degas, he later embraced the Post-Impressionist movement alongside Gauguin and Cézanne, leaving a distinctive mark on the art world. Post-Impressionists diverged from their predecessors by infusing their work with deeper emotion, personal experiences, and greater individualism. Their bold brushwork, exaggerated colors, and unconventional techniques laid the groundwork for the future, anticipating Expressionism.

Parisian nightlife was a cornerstone of Lautrec’s art, and At the Moulin Rouge: The Dance stands as his most famous painting, portraying fashionable society and featuring many of his friends and family in a composition of overlapping planes with a perspective that subtly defies reality and logic. The artwork is divided into three distinct planes. The static background features figures such as Lautrec’s father, the poet Yeats, and Jane Avril, a renowned can-can dancer nicknamed “Crazy Jane,” who was both a close friend of Lautrec and a frequent model. In the center, the action unfolds as Valentin le Désossé, a gentleman in a top hat, instructs a cabaret dancer in new steps. The foreground is a detailed study of a contrasting passivity from the central swirl. The viewer’s eye swings between the galloping dancer in earthy tones accented by orange stockings and the quiet, introspective woman in pink.

Lautrec intentionally distorted the painting’s perspective, evident in the mismatched linear lines of the floorboards and fluid, swaying shadows that resemble a confused liquid more than lighting effects. These artistic choices enhance the surreal atmosphere of the scene, amplifying the contrast between the hyper-dynamic dancer and the passive, tranquil surroundings. Through At the Moulin Rouge: The Dance, Lautrec masterfully evokes the opposing vibrant activity and a ‘to be seen’ spirits of Parisian nightlife, providing a vivid outline while inviting viewers to interpret the finer details themselves.

Source: Toulouse-Lautrec by Doughlas Cooper, 1982. Graphic: At the Moulin Rouge: The Dance, Toulouse-Lautrec, 1890. Philadelphia Museum of Art. Public Domain.

Black Swans Part II

Last week, we introduced Taleb’s definition of black swans; rare, unpredictable ‘unknown unknowns’ in military terms, with major impacts, exploring historical examples that reshaped society post-event. This week I’m going to introduce a fictional black swan and how to react to them but before that the unpredictable part of Taleb’s definition needs some modifications. True black swans by Taleb definition are not only rare but practically non-existent outside of natural disasters such as earthquakes. To discuss a black swan, I am going to change the definition a bit and say these events are unpredictable to most observers but predictable or at least imaginable to some. Taleb would likely call them grey swans. For instance, Sputnik was known to the Soviets, but an intelligence failure and complete surprise to the rest of the world. Nikola Tesla anticipated the iPhone 81 years ahead of time. 9/11 was known to the perpetrators and was an intelligence failure. Staging a significant part of your naval fleet in Pearl Harbor during a world war and forgetting to surveil the surrounding area is not a black swan, just incompetence.

With that tweak out of the way, we’ll explore in Part II where Taleb discusses strategies to mitigate a black (grey) swan’s major impacts with a fictional example. His strategies can be applied to pre-swan events as well as post-swan. Pre-swan planning in business is called contingency planning, risk management, or, you guessed it, black swan planning. They include prioritizing redundancy, flexibility, robustness, and simplicity, as well as preparing for extremes, fostering experimentation, and embracing antifragility.

Imagine a modern black swan: a relentless AI generated cyberattack cripples the Federal Reserve and banking system, wiping out reserves and assets. Industry and services collapse nationwide and globally as capital evaporates, straining essentials, with recovery decades away if ever. After the shock comes analysis and damage reports, then the rebuilding begins.

The Treasury, with no liquid assets, must renegotiate debt to preserve global trust. Defense capabilities are maintained at a sufficient level, hopefully hardened, to protect national security, while the State Department reimagines the world to effectively bolster domestic production and resource independence while keeping the wolves at bay.

Non-essential programs, from expansive infrastructure projects, research, federal education initiatives, all non-essential services are shelved, shifting priorities and remaining resources to maintaining core social and population safety nets like Social Security and Defense. Emergency measures kick in: targeted taxes on luxury goods and wealth are imposed to boost revenue and redirect resources. Tariffs encourage domestic production and independence.

Federal funding to states and localities is reduced to a trickle. States and municipalities must take ownership of essential public services such as education, water, roads, and public safety. The states are forced to retrench and innovate, turning federal scarcity into local progress.

Looking ahead, resilience becomes the first principle. Diversification takes center stage, with the creation of a sovereign wealth fund based on assets like gold, bitcoin, and commodities, bolstered by states that had stockpiled reserves such as rainy-day funds, ensuring financial stability. Local agriculture, leaner industries and a realigned electrical grid, freed from federal oversight, innovate under pressure, strengthening a recovery. Resilience becomes antifragility, the need to build stronger and better in the face of adversity. And finally, the government must revert to its Lockean and Jeffersonian roots, favoring liberty and growth over control, safety, and stagnation: anti-fragility.

Source: The Black Swan by Nassim Nicholas Taleb, 2007. Graphic: The Black Swan hardback cover.

Chagall and Expressionism

Art critic Raimond Cogniat described Marc Chagall as an artist of opposites, a painter who thrived in the interplay of form and color, color and meaning. Chagall infused his paintings with love and happiness, crafting worlds that felt both fantastical and deeply alive. He shaped reality from his feelings, “making it conform to his inner spiritual logic,” even if, as he once confessed, he wasn’t entirely conscious of his process.

Born Moishe Shagal in 1887 in Vitebsk (now Belarus), Chagall grew up in a Jewish enclave within the Russian Empire. He later embraced France as his adoptive home, blending his Eastern European roots with French artistic flair. Though he briefly explored Cubism during its peak in the early 20th century, he thankfully abandoned that style to carve his own path as an expressionist. Vivid, otherworldly colors, and exaggerated forms defined his style, while his Jewish heritage, evident in depictions of shtetl life, fiddlers, and biblical scenes, remained his anchor. His 1912–1913 painting The Fiddler is said to have inspired the title of the musical Fiddler on the Roof.

In a 1963 speech to an American audience, Chagall reflected on his philosophy: “Any moral crisis is a crisis of color, texture, blood and the elements, of speech, vibration, etc.—the materials with which art, like life, is constructed. Even when mountains of color are piled on a canvas, if one can discern no single object even through great sound and vibration, this will not necessarily give authenticity.” To Chagall, authenticity was more than paint; it demanded the infusion of human experience, blood, and the essence of nature.

Source: Chagall by Raimond Cogniat, translated by Ann Ross, 1977. Graphic: The Fiddler, Chagall, 1912-1913. Public Domain