Monday, January 4, 2010

Rational vs. Traditional Warfare: the Mongols and the Shawnee

The historical origin of the phrase "on the warpath" in American English is underappreciated; in fact, you can go for a stroll on literal, physical warpaths around the eastern United States. Prior to the arrival of Europeans in North America, there already existed in a network of footpaths used for trade, communication, or warfare between nations. Certain of the paths were traditionally used more often than others for war, especially by the well-traveled Shawnee - hence the name, in Shawnee, Athawominee - path where they go armed.


The Great Warpath ran along the Great Valley of the Appalachians (the light pink band on this map).

It's critical to recognize that the warpath was not necessarily the easiest path between two warring nations, but a traditional path used during military conflict. It was a system of war that even enemies agreed on. Traveling the warpath signaled to friend and foe alike that you were going to war. By obeying the same set of mores, this means that enemies had made an inter-cultural agreement of sorts, a Geneva convention for pre-contact America.

It should seem strange that such a tradition would persist. War results when the interests of two nations have become so estranged that at least one party abandons the sub-optimizing but non-zero-sum agreements of civilization to achieve its ends through zero-sum violence. At this stage, there is no negotiation or mutually agreed restraint to be had; adherence to rules when rules are being discarded in favor of brute self-interest would seem to make survival more difficult; and those so naive as to follow some code of conduct would swiftly perish from the Earth. Sometimes in violent conflict, both parties behave themselves (sub-optimize) in ways that obviously and immediately benefit them both; for example, trading prisoners, not shooting at medical personnel, etc. - but even those are quickly tossed out in times of desperation. So how could the idea of a traditional warpath survive?

To a modern military mind, it's bad enough that your army might have to travel through a single pass or over a single bridge, because that means your route will be predictable to your enemy, and they can attack you at your most vulnerable. But to voluntarily use a traditional route only because it's the traditional thing to do seems like sheer folly. If you're a Shawnee chief, it seems the best tactic would be to spread false rumors that your men have been sighted on the warpath, but meanwhile sneak over a ridge and attack your Cherokee foes in their predictable location on the path. The Cherokees might be scandalized by your dishonorable behavior, but who cares? They're dead, and you won.


Traditional Warfare vs. Rational Warfare

Traditional warfare may best be summarized by anthropologist Warren Morrill's comment regarding "wars" in the New Guinea highlands: "It's more like football. They won't fight in the rain because then their make-up would run." You would think that any neolithic people with such a preoccupation with cosmetics would quickly perish from the Earth; not only is this untrue, but until recently in history, traditional warfare was the norm. [Added later: another place where traditional warfare is clearly exemplified, precisely because it can be contrasted against the innovations that changed local norms to rational warfare, was early nineteenth century South Africa, i.e. Shaka Zulu - who "changed the nature of warfare in Southern Africa" which was previously "a ritualised exchange of taunts with minimal loss of life into a true method of subjugation by wholesale slaughter."]

And that is exactly the mystery. For the majority of human history and prehistory, the conduct of warfare probably resembled the puzzlingly cooperative military endeavors on Appalachian warpaths more than it did the rational war that modern armies conduct. By "rational" I mean warfare that is characterized by clear goal-setting, critical thinking to achieve those goals, and disregard of traditional mores in the pursuit of achieving them. Rational war can be, but is not necessarily, total war (involving the deliberate destruction of civilian infrastructure as military objectives). A hallmark of rational war is the adoption (even from the enemy) of innovations based on their effectiveness, and the elimination of military practices involving systems of custom, tradition and honor. It should be emphasized that as "rational" is used here, rational and moral will often be opposed - World War I was a major step forward toward rational war. More often than not rational warfare results in more death and suffering.


Rational War Comes to the Americas All On Its Own

It's important to emphasize that rational war is not an invention of evil Post-Enlightenment Europeans who dragged the world out of Edenic traditional innocence. In eastern North America, immediately to the north of the aforementioned warpath was the Iroquois Confederacy, who at least twice in the seventeenth century practiced total war and genocide in the pursuit of territorial expansion and elimination of adversaries (the Huron and the Susquehannock). It's clear that the Iroquois did not feel any need to avoid dishonor by keeping to the warpath, which is why they earned harsher-than-usual epithets from their neighbors, helpful nicknames like "black snakes" and "penis heads". And they didn't care, because they won.

Sometimes indigenous North Americans did have tricks that the European colonists didn't. When a 22-year-old Colonel Washington fought the French at Fort Necessity, he faced a combined force of French and Indians who used guerilla tactics - hiding behind trees, jumping out to take a shot, then hiding again. While this seems like common sense today, the French had just learned it from the Indians, and as a good British officer, Washington was of course shocked at their cowardice. After all, the honorable European way to fight in the eighteenth century was to stand in rows, fire, then kneel while you reloaded. The French and Indians didn't care, because they won (at least that battle). A little over two decades on, now-General Washington had learned his lesson, and fought his former commanders using the same tactics that had cost him Fort Necessity. The British considered his behavior cowardly, but you know where this is going. While this is far from an exhaustive survey, it certainly seems - and makes sense - that if all other things in battle are equal, if you cheat and throw out honor and tradition while rationally pursuing a clear goal, you win.


Rational War in Eurasia

The Aztecs had wheels on toys, but never thought to use them for actual work. Reading the military history of ancient Eurasia presents innovations that to us seem blindingly obvious but that nonetheless had to start somewhere. In the West at least, there was no such thing as the use of, and training in, standardized weapons and tactics (at least consistently) until they were introduced by Gaius Marius, Julius Caesar's uncle. Accounts of warfare in the ancient world often read more like confused gang-fights with 20,000 on each side than like battles.

Critical thinking about warfare was still surprisingly slow to get off the ground, and like the Eastern American woodland nations, Eurasians were ripe for exploitation. It's been said by military historians that the thirteenth-century Mongols behaved strikingly like a modern army set down in medieval Eurasia. Among other things their officer-equivalents were promoted based on - who knew - meritocracy, rather than family connections or whether they were popular with the local witch doctors and medicine men. There were no warpaths for the Mongols, though they did allow themselves to become sentimental when they executed royal enemies. When the armies of this same people encountered medieval Europeans, encumbered as they were with notions of Christendom and battlefield etiquette, the results were predictable. The Mongols didn't care, and not only did they win, they established the largest land empire ever to exist on Earth.


Game Theory: Traditional Warfare and the Long Term



Hulagu Khan, grandson of Jenghiz, whose army sacked Baghdad in 1258.

One criticism of game theory is that it tends to focus on "winning" isolated contests in the here and now at the expense of the long-term. In extreme cases these are called Pyrrhic victories. This is one limitation of individual reason in general - we employ simplifying abstractions that allow us to solve problems considered semantically in short-term memory. This has proved powerful for humans but results in unintended consequences over longer time periods than the individual's lifespan (and which are therefore more difficult to anticipate.). It's necessary to make simplifying assumptions to develop theories; but a simplifying assumption that a game is one-round or defined-length is anything but trivial to applications of game theory. In real life, games with a clearly defined number of "rounds" are very rare.

For many organisms including humans, most competitions for resources (money, food, territory mates) not only go on continuously for life, they involve frequent contact and even cooperation with conspecifics. Furthermore, game outcomes are not either-or. An aggressive animal always willing to fight may in fact win every fight, but will still accumulate injuries that a more docile animal might not. Always optimizing every round will not necessarily win the game.

The difference between traditional and rational warfare is the application of critical thinking. Humans are the only animal with a brain powerful enough that we can confuse ourselves by being able to solve short-term problems rationally instead of performing instinctive ("dumb") sub-optimization. War is a high-stakes instantiation of game theory, and players who follow traditional warfare rules would seem to handicap themselves by limiting their moves and making themselves more predictable; then again, they're behaving more like our pre-rational ancestors.

So if the Mongol model is so much more effective than the Shawnee model, why do we ever see warpaths, in eastern North America or anywhere else? Why retain any traditions in warfare when it's plausible that they're actively pernicious to the retainers?

To this point there are four possibilities that leap to mind explaining the persistence of traditional warfare. First is that traditional vs. rational models of warfare have no long-term outcome on the success of the culture that holds the associated values; they're just noise. Second, it's possible that this small survey is non-representative and there there is no problem, that just as game theory predicts there really is a global species-wide bias toward rational warfare, and that this small sample is masking it. Third is that it was just a matter of time, and we happen to be in a transition period toward rational warfare; that is, all those remaining traditional-warfare cultures in New Guinea will either have to adapt, or will be assimilated/destroyed by neighbors in the near future.

The most intriguing possibility is that there is actually pressure against rational warfare for reasons which aren't immediately obvious. An immediate parallel to game theory comes to mind, that it's better in Prisoner's Dilemma to forgive single defectors (but not double or worse defectors); otherwise the game turns into a string of mutual recriminations, to the benefit of neither player.

A mechanism for this is more difficult to construct but if these four hypotheses exhaust the possibilities and the first three are incorrect, than this must be it. Could it be (for example) that any culture willing to ignore inter-cultural military conduct codes inevitably implodes due to its disrespect for tradition (a kind of "rational warfare Fermi paradox")? If there actually is some pressure against rational war, it's difficult to imagine how such regulation is being imposed on its practitioners (that is, the Hurons and the Caliphs weren't in any position to make the Iroquois and Mongols start following the rules of honorable warfare). It's also tempting to draw an analogy between the distribution of the rational warfare meme and the self-limiting spread of a too-virulent pathogen, but the virulence mechanism is entirely different. In any event, this homeostasis-like pressure is likely visible over the extreme long-term, in complex ways, after countless game-theory rounds have elapsed. But even given the surprising persistence in modern times of traditional modes of warfare, in terms of casualties from warfare, far and away the predominant character of warfare on Earth today is rational, and it's unlikely that this will change. This is new in history as of the past century and if there will be long-term effects - ones which tend to eliminate the practitioners of rational war from circulation - we should, obviously, try to find out what they are.

Saturday, January 2, 2010

Culture/Climate Mismatches in Speculative Fiction

A skillful writer of fiction can in a few strokes paint a city, culture and climate; often this involves poking a few places in the reader's brain and having the reader fill in the rest, often without realizing they are completing the puzzle with their own impressions. If anyone can beat Italo Calvino at this game, please recommend their work to me. In some ways Calvino's masterpiece If On a Winter's Night a Traveler is a set of one-chapter exercises in this endeavor, and it's no less enjoyable for it.

One of the interesting things about Calvino is he sometimes creates places, whole countries and languages, that aren't even real, and yet because they bear structural similarities to the constellations of characteristics of other places that are real, they seem recognizable. (Witness the gray, windblown, somewhat pointless seashore of the generic northern European country in Winter's Night. Hey, that was just like Poland's Baltic Coast! you might say. No way, it's those barrier islands in the Netherlands. No, it's Denmark!)

Speculative fiction grants many degrees of freedom so it might be interesting to use the exact converse approach - take a real place, but make one major change - government, demography, climate, culture. Imagine urban Iowa, the entire state choked by the smokestacks and shadows of a corroded, sprawling industrial mega-city. St. Louis and the Arch, shivering in the thin dry air of the North American altiplano, ringed by stony Mars-like valley walls shining with year-round snow. Detroit as America's Monaco-on-the-Lake, the decadent playground of heads-of-state and international CEOs. A Memphis apartment dweller goes to her roof in the middle of May to watch the ice break on the Mississippi, and a pod of killer whales soon emerges, chasing a harbor seal. "Okay, I get it", you say. Indulge one last entry: the ever-popular Empire State Building, all but its upper floors concealed beneath the shifting sands of a desert. Any worse than the Statue of Liberty sticking out of a deserted beach?

There are other games you can play in the counterfactual sandbox, alternative history among the most prominent, because that's how you can most credibly play with demographics. Maybe after the killer whales, the people of Memphis watch the Imperial Japanese Navy's icebreakers pass on the way to the international border at Kentucky. Maybe Missouri altiplano air is so thin that the criers of the Sunni mosques have resorted to bells which peal eerily in the wan mountain sun. But unless there are long stretches of time involved, it's hard to imagine, without relying on magic, how the ice could come in the first place. With the Statue of Liberty on the beach, we have some idea, and that's why typically this exercise is done in post-apocalpytic fiction where the world has tilted until it's barely recognizable, owing to some morally-deplorable actions of mankind. But it occurs to me that for these purposes deserts are somewhat oversubscribed. Why that might be is anyone's guess, so here's my guess. A literature unbound from the geography of the real world could, like a textual Rorschach (fancy!), betray the fascinations of its writers' culture. Why should deserts be so interesting to us? Open spaces, psychogenic self-discoveries, alien abductions and ancient civilizations are themes that all seem more at home out in the dust of South Utah more than the Illinois prairie or the warm salty nights of the Outer Banks.

It's interesting to ask to what degree the non-obviously-adaptive features of a culture or its government are uniquely suited to its physical environment, and whether individuals could tell if there were a "mismatch". Then again, maybe it's just familiarity or historical accident. It's easy to see why post-Crusades Europeans would be intrigued by the stories of potentates and harems at palm-fringed oases, or why the classic Greeks might have had such a crush on the Egyptians. But these are cultural, not climactic fascinations, and modern Americans know unfortunately little about the desert cultures that preceded them in the American Southwest. North America at least for the moment is populated by people who, relatively recently, emigrated from a continent that lacks deserts entirely. Even the desert Sunbelt is largely populated by internal emigrants from the wet and temperate East Coast. It's therefore tempting to speculate that once these people got to the deserts, they sensed that these rocky, open places somehow didn't quite square with the adaptive functions of the culture they brought with them. (Not that you would notice this looking at the green lawns in Southern California. Say it with me: "xeriscaping".)

Why this odd insistence on playing with counterfactuals? I think it's a way for certain individuals who love a place and want to internalize it to turn it over like a Rubik's cube, in the subconscious hope that this will somehow enable them to experience and understand it more fully, much like talking about a subject you're studying consolidates your grasp of the material. Michael Swanwick is clearly in love with his hometown of Philadelphia, although in The Drift he shows it to us after a much-more-severe Three Mile Island.

I'd love to see more vignettes of London overgrown with vines and jungle rot and crocodiles cruising the Thames or the people of Buenos Aires huddling with hot rum against another season of long Arctic nights, but maybe first I'll have to show you a new version of San Francisco. I'm not sure how I would abuse the City by the Bay with a pen, but I can promise that I will not feature sun-baked Alcatraz straddling on great dark rock, jutting above an expanse of cactus-studded sand.

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Automation and Unemployment

Since the industrial revolution began there has been speculation about the long-term effect of automation on employment. You can create plausible-sounding but completely opposing just-so stories: that automation will free humans from drudgery to focus on more important work or leisure, or that automation will destroy employment. The first argument is one made by the now silly-seeming futurists of the 1950s who predicted a 20-hour work-week for Americans.

That mid-century naivete works fine if all you want is to maintain 1955's level of productivity - but these decisions do not result from central planning. They result from individual humans that seek status and are competitive and want more wealth if there's more wealth to be had. (Fortunately, this is the path that results in economic growth, rather than stagnation and class sedimentation.) Consequently, the real work-week actually grew slightly in the second half of the twentieth-century.

The second argument - that the machines will put us all out of work - is a more pessimistic version of the same argument. In this scenario, the 20-hour work week exists not because that's all we have to do to maintain our current economic growth rate, but because there just isn't any more work to be done - the machines are doing it all.

There are examples in our past we can point to. Yes, there were labor shocks in the U.S. in the 1970s and 80s, due to automation and offshore competition; yes, the populations of many Midwestern American states are lower today than they were a century ago, because those economies are mostly dependent on agriculture, and one person with machines today can produce what many did a century before. But our population as a whole grew, and became richer in that time, even if in certain industries or geographic areas at certain times there were disruptions. No one in 2009 is complaining that the beaver pelt industry is moribund, because people learned other trades besides trapping. Likewise there are industries besides agriculture, and as economies expand, new industries appear, and with them new needs.

That's why, it's hard to see why we'll suddenly all be out of work, unless we're talking about full self-repairing AI, in which case we'll have other problems. There are many more examples of automation expanding work that we can point to now. What is most relevant for the future is "white collar automation". It's certain that the automation of physical labor that the world experienced in the last century and a half (and which it's still experiencing in many quarters) is not the end of the road, and that computers will start automating white collar tasks much more than they already have. (Forget about outsourcing to India.)

Have there already been "cognitive" tasks automated where we can gauge the impact on the industry in question? Yes. That computers and calculators are widely used does not seem to have put accountants out of business - except, of course, for those accountants who refused to learn how to use a computer - and now one accountant can produce what many did a century ago. The same is true for other white collar professions. The answer is that in the future, on some level, we will all be programmers. (Compared to our parents, aren't we already?) We'll use the much-afeared automation as additional tools to increase our productivity. Just don't be that guy in the office who won't learn how to use Excel, and you'll be fine.

One challenge to the coming white collar automation blitz is the existence of administrative sinecures. The invisible hand has clearly not yet done away with them in the private sector, nor in government or academia. Since their existence flies in the face of economics, it is likely that their persistence is best explained
by universal irrational aspects of human psychology that will exist even in competitor organizations. Once the expert systems start coming on-line in earnest, will these positions survive? Will they, over time, make them seem more and more suspicious and non-contributory? One down-side to the new automation is that sinecures are not quantized; it's likely that some percentage of your time is sinecurity, and the inefficiencies that allow it to persist will be erased, or at least known about. Your little sick days to catch up on soaps? Your argument that you really need to audit that company in Miami? Your coworkers' simulations will catch it.

Alternatively, it's possible to imagine that while producers are staying ahead of the automation blitz by learning to use it to produce, will sinecurists will learn new strategies to justify why their positions are "more art than science" that
can't be reduced to vulgar numbers by mere machines.

Monday, December 21, 2009

Robert Frank, Che Guevara and Chilean Miners

In the Motorcycle Diaries, Che Guevara and his roadtrip buddy come upon a couple huddling at a stony roadside in the nighttime Chilean desert. They're waiting for mining bosses to show up and hire them to work in Chuiquicamata mine. They're poor, and they're cold. Moved by their plight, Guevara and friend give their coats to the people. (This was the period before Guevara was killing his own soldiers for not being enthusiastic enough, something that it would be useful for the world's T-shirt wearers to remember.)

Of course we're led to assume (implicitly) that the Anaconda mining bosses (who are often unpleasant, to put it mildly) are villains. But it's hard to ignore that the mining company is what makes it possible for them to make this living, the unpleasantness of its bosses notwithstanding. I most emphatically don't mean to call this couple whiners, or to diminish the back-breaking grind of mining. But the salient point is that without the mining company and its bosses, the couple in question would go from making at least some living, to making no living. But because in general humans have difficulty thinking about counterfactuals and the effect of status on their actions and happiness, this reality remains masked.

What does that mean? Think about this: imagine you have a chance to be the only person making $120,000 a year in a neighborhood where everyone else makes $100,000; or, you could be the only person making $180,000 a year in a neighborhood where everyone else makes $200,000. For simplicity, let's say you can change neighborhoods at will, so you're not permanently committing. No equivocating about
relative purchasing power - in the second case, you get $60,000 more per year of stuff, including a safer neighborhood. If humans were rational optimizers of external wealth, this would be a no-brainer for everybody - take the $180,000, and who cares that the neighbors think you're low-class, right? Wrong. This is a tough
call for most people, because relative status matters a great deal to human beings. This of course is the classic Frank conundrum.

How does this apply to the miners? When the couple is making a living, their needs are taken care of, but they have to deal with unpleasant mine bosses (often foreign ones); they certainly aren't making $180,000, but they're at least making something, although in earning a living they have to deal with unpleasant and often foreign bosses whose own status reminds the miners of their station in life. On the other hand, when the miners are unemployed, they don't have to deal with unpleasant bosses to obtain the non-money that they're not making. It's a difference between being made acutely aware of their social status and under the control of people they don't like when they're making some money, versus not being hassled by non-bosses who are not giving them money they're not making.

(One obvious solution to diminish any reputation for being abusive imperialists is to enforce fairness in hiring and labor standards above and beyond what is the local norm. This works at home too, as American technology companies in the 1980s competing for talent began to realize. Of course, Anaconda was not forced by any such labor shortage to do so, which is where governments come into the picture. If you think free markets work, it's in your interest to take actions to make other people favor them too. Given their impact on Guevara, unpleasant bosses at Chuquimacata certainly didn't do capitalism any favors in South America.)

The default position of human societies is poverty, not wealth, and sometimes, only foreigners have the capital to begin profitable operations. The unpleasantness of earning a living seems especially acute when the work is difficult and the labor market is imbalanced, and mineral extraction is probably the best example. But if there were no mine, these poor would have been poorer. There is a lesson for Americans in this too. Yes, you might not like your boss, and you might not like that a Japanese company just bought out your plant. Given the state of credit markets in the U.S., without them the plant would have closed. And no one is making you work there. Remember - for simplicity, you can change neighborhoods at will.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Don't Like the Nobel Peace Pick This Year? Start Your Own

Most of the Nobel categories are necessarily open-ended; the achievement that merits the prize is not defined in advance. No one can predict what will be useful in chemistry ten years from now, or medicine, or economics.

This isn't true in the peace category. I think we can all point to specific parts of the world where people are suffering, and exactly what's going on there to make this so. That being the case, why aren't we setting concrete, measurable goals in advance, with prizes to motivate people. Why wait for future Matt Peters and Greg Mortensons to have an epiphany; why not an epiphany catalyst fund?

A new Nobel - call it the X Prize of progress in human welfare - might work like this.

- Specific prizes would be set in advance, after lengthy consideration of rough cost, possibility, and time frame.

- Prize terms would be incrementally measurable solutions to local, measurable, concrete effects. There will be no debate over whether a winner or winners deserve(s) it, because the result will be concrete. No "help the children of Africa"; more like "80% literacy in Zambia by 2020", with staggered decreases for
every percent lower than that. (Or, "twenty million for a five percent increase in literacy in Zambia by 2020, and five million more for every percent increase above that")

- There will be standing conditions for all the prizes. You can't finance your operation leading up to the prize by stripping a place of natural resources; activities will be audited prior to avoiding the prize to root out corruption. The prize committee will establish how it will measure the achievement and include it along with each new prize announcement.

- On the other hand, the award can be distributed however the winners wanted - including to stakeholders. If you can think of a way to get Somalian warlords to establish a lasting government by paying them off in installments, fine.

- The prize committee would be happy to offer help to contenders who don't have the capital to begin the work (that's all of them) by linking them to whatever NGOs or multinational resources are already out there.

- The prize money would be private, and of course, bigger than the Nobel (I'm looking at you, Buffett and Gates and Soros). Start the endowment and announce a bunch of long-term (but still concrete) goals to allow it to compound.


Criticisms:

- Lots of people with money want to make the world a better place but don't want to go to Sudan to make it happen. This outsources the work.

- Target governments might complain to the traditional interfering villains (the US, NATO, EU) - let them. They'll have to come into the light of day in an international forum like the UN to complain that evil imperialists are forcing their people to have clean water, literacy and open elections, and the governments
hosting the teams competing can always say "we can't do anything; they're private citizens". (Note Iran's efforts against Twitter; embarrassing when you're reduced to fighting your adversaries' companies, as opposed to actually confronting your adversaries.)


Pie in the sky? There are lots of people who want to make the world better, and a lot of money. The pie is getting the endowment set up. Writing the goals and getting applications would be a piece of cake. Encourage grad students. Start small and not overambitious; farm output in a single 10 km by 5 km valley? In a single village? Fine. Look at what has worked before and go do it.


Suggested prize targets to start out:
- Internet Censorship in China Ended by Year X

- Open Elections in China by Year X

- Literacy in [Developing Country] 80% by Year X

- Free Movement of People Between the Koreas by Year X

- Everybody in [fill in fourth-world country] Has Non-Cost-Limiting Access to Clean Water by X

- New Mexico Energy Entirely Green by X As Flagship to Rest of U.S.

- Iran Makes Official Announcement Abandoning Nuclear Weapons Ambitions by date X

- First weapons destroyed in Pakistan and India Nuclear Disarmament by X (note: new study shows that global nuclear winter could occur from Pakistan-India nuclear exchange alone)

- Israel and Palestine: No Troop-Driven Violence for Time Period X

- Iraq or Afghanistan (or Even just Anbar Province or Herat) Self-Governing with Minimal US Troop Presence (I daresay a private group outside the US government would be able to plan for this more effectively than has been done)

Sunday, December 6, 2009

Coastline and Wealth

Curve-fitting doesn't give strong R's; forper capita income (purchasing power parity) vs absolute coastline length or coastline per area, there's no linear relationship > 0.19.

However, average per capita income for the 138 countries I had both coastline and PCI data on $13,562, vs $9,040 for those with no coastline that I had PCI data on. No surprise.

Though Liechtenstein is not included in this analysis, it is one of two doubly-landlocked countries (the other being Uzbekistan); Liechteinstein is typically ranked first in per capita income rankings, so geography is not destiny.

Monday, November 30, 2009

Kay Sage and Yves Tanguy

Visited the Philly Art Museum yesterday. Besides their two Roberto Mattas, a couple pieces caught my eye; Kay Sage and Yves Tanguy were married, and produced cool stuff. A nice one from Sage: