International law? There’s No Such Thing

 

The United States invaded another country
to arrest its president. Is that legal?

When Russia invaded Ukraine, international law was invoked. When the Trump administration began to blowup alleged drug ships off Venezuela, it made another appearance, as it did after the arrest of Nicolás Maduro, and as it does whenever President Trump threatens to seize Greenland.

Have Putin and Trump violated international law? For that matter, has Maduro? Does anybody care?

This is nothing new.

After the 2003 U.S. invasion of Iraq, United Nations Secretary General Kofi Annan said in an interview with the BBC World Service that he believed there should have been a second U.N. resolution to determine the consequences of Iraq's failure to comply over weapons inspections. 

Asked if he viewed the U.S. invasion of Iraq as illegal, he said: "Yes, if you wish. I have indicated it was not in conformity with the U.N. charter--from our point of view, from the (U.N.) charter point of view, it was illegal."

When diplomats such as Annan talk about international law, they usually fail to explain that what is called international law is very different from the ordinary, everyday law to which you and I are subject. Annan hinted at it with his carefully qualified answer.

If we break a law and are found guilty by a court, we can go to jail, or be required to pay a fine, or required to pay some sum of money to another person. Ultimately, the government body in question (whether it be a city, state or nation) has the authority and power to enforce its rulings, by force if necessary, and usually they do so without hesitation. 

My options for avoiding those penalties are few.

If, like most people, that is what you think of when you see the word “law,” then by comparison “international law” is a euphemism. 

Advocates of international law would like everyone to equate it with the common understanding of “law.” That is why they call it that. But if there were truth-in-advertising in international rhetoric, the term “international law” would have to be banned. 

In reality, international law is a web of multi-lateral and bi-lateral agreements among and between sovereign states. The first international laws were trading agreements that became standardized and to which most nations subscribed. It grew from there to encompass most other aspects of international relationships.

Today, the various courts of international law operate under the auspices of the United Nations. If you understand the United Nations to be to international law what the State of Illinois is to Illinois law (I live in Chicago), you can begin to see the problem. All persons, whether natural (you and me) or unnatural (corporations), are subject to Illinois law. The state of Illinois can send armed officers to take me into custody to enforce its laws. It can order my bank to give it my money. It can even kill me, legally.

With international law, sovereign nations are its subjects. What can the United Nations or one of its courts do to a member state found guilty of violating an international law? If it imposes sanctions on a nation, it relies on member states to abide by the sanctions regime. International law only works when it is in everyone’s interest to go along. When it is not, they don’t, and there isn’t much the U.N. or anyone else can do about it.

Unless, that is, they have a military and the willingness to use it. Then so-called international law can provide a handy justification for a powerful state’s military action, as it did for the Bush administration in 2003.

In an Illinois courtroom, at least ideally (and, in fact, in most cases), the law applies equally to everyone. When we cheer "the rule-of-law," we're celebrating law that transcends politics. This may be true of international law in theory, but it is always political in practice. Might makes right, which is the rule-of-law's exact opposite.

Nations voluntarily submit themselves to various bodies charged with hearing cases and making rulings about alleged breaches of international law. They can cooperate during a trial and then say, “no thank you” to the verdict, or they can say “no thank you” to the entire process. As a rule, nations abide by international law except when they don’t. When they don’t, the political part kicks in, first prodding and persuasion, then maybe sanctions, which might or might not be effective at punishing the violator, depending on the violator’s susceptibility to international pressure and on the willingness of other nations to bring it. Imagine if the IRS collected taxes that way.

It is often said the United States Constitution is not a suicide pact, meaning any right can be reasonably limited when permitting its full exercise would threaten the nation. Likewise, international law is not a suicide pact. Sovereign nations never will submit voluntarily to rulings that threaten their sovereignty, as they perceive it, and the United Nations has no independent ability to compel them to submit.

So, the United States invoked international law to defend its invasion of Iraq and the war’s opponents invoked it to condemn the invasion as illegal. Who was right? Neither? Both? Both sides had a case but, ultimately, so what? The Bush administration did what it wanted, just as the Trump and Putin administrations are doing now.

That is what “law” means when you put “international” in front of it. Ultimately, not much. 

Whiskey's Biggest Lie

 

In fact, their whiskey sucked.

Back in 2016, when Beam dropped the 9-year age statement from its Knob Creek bourbon, the brand's fans were outraged: "This is so unfair to the consumers and fans," "Flavor/Taste profile is a joke to justify keeping the same price using younger juice," "What happens to all the awards and medals that the real Knob Creek won?"

When producers make changes, many drinkers balk reflexively. Why are we so unwilling to accept change? Because those very producers have told us for years that change is bad.

In 2005, when the company now known as Suntory Global Spirits created its first major TV advertising campaign for its flagship Jim Beam Bourbon, the theme was “true to our original recipe for 209 years.”

Bulleit Bourbon, a product created within the lifetime of most persons of legal drinking age, purports to be made from an ancient recipe passed down to Tom Bulleit from his great-great-grandfather, Augustus. Mr. Bulleit blushes when asked about this story. Like the Beams, he has no parchment to show you, just a ‘tradition’ passed from father to son, and who can argue with that?

The problem with these and every other claim about an ancient, unchanged bourbon recipe is twofold. (1) Bourbon today is much better in every way than what they were drinking in 1795 or 1830, and (2) the claims are untrue, because whiskeys, like most products, are constantly changing.

Mashbills*, for example, have always been flexible. Ingredients can vary based on cost and availability. They varied widely in the pre-Prohibition era. Today there is more consistency, but there are still variations. Different batches of grain can vary in significant ways. Often products are made by combining whiskeys made from different recipes at different distilleries. Changes to stills make a difference. When energy is costly, distilleries run a thicker mash to reduce energy costs. Wood characteristics vary from tree to tree. Today, all large distilleries are run by computers. The humans just watch. Every change, however small, makes a difference in the final product.

Because there are so many variables, producers don't rely on recipes, they rely on taste. Every distillery has a library of bottles that record in liquid form how different batches have tasted over the years. Every producer has a panel of tasters whose job is to compare each new batch to the standard for that product. If a new batch doesn't measure up adjustments are made, generally by adding whiskey that possesses the missing characteristic. 

They are limited in these efforts by labeling rules. If a product is age-stated, 9-years-old for example, no whiskey may be used that is less than 9-years-old even if the profile calls for it. If it is labeled as bourbon, it must be at least 51 percent corn, and so on.

Virtually all whiskey producers strive for consistency, as do most manufacturers regardless of the product. At the same time there is a seemingly-contradictory impulse to constant improvement. This varies with product type. Technology products have to improve or die. With other products, such as whiskey, long-term consistency seems the higher value.

Thirty to forty years ago, when America was awash with whiskey no one wanted, many producers routinely put 8- to 10-year-old whiskey into their standard NAS products. They didn't publicize it because they knew it was temporary and no law required disclosure. There were few complaints. Now, however, people taste those glut-era whiskeys and pronounce modern whiskeys inferior by comparison.

Until recently, rapid demand growth outstripped the industry's supply side. Because whiskey has to be aged, you inevitably over-produce or under-produce. It is almost impossible to get it just right. The challenge is always to meet as much demand as you can with the inventory you have, and to do it as profitably as possible.

Because of that demand growth, everyone was distilling as much whiskey as they could as fast as they could. It appears now that bourbon's crazy growth spurt is over. That shouldn't mean an inevitable decline, just slower growth. Producers are adjusting accordingly.

Marketers of all kinds know a lot about consumer behavior. With whiskey, there are two sure ways to piss off your most loyal customers, raise the price or change the taste, and between those two changing the taste is worse. Everything else, including label changes, has a lower priority.

So, producers will continue to like the "nothing changes" claim, but what you should hear is "we're doing everything we can to keep everything you care about the same." That may not be as snappy, but it has the virtue of being true.

* In a multi-grain whiskey, 'mashbill' describes what grains are used and in what proportions. 

Is Humanity Finished with Alcohol?

 

The "drunk monkey" hypothesis suggests humans
evolved from primates that ate fermented fruit.

A recent article in The Economist features this headline: “How humankind’s 10m-year love affair with booze might end.”

“Alcohol is poison” has become a popular catchphrase. As The Economist points out, “Ethanol is so toxic that most animals that consume it either quickly get drunk or poison themselves. Humans, unusually, have a pair of enzymes that turf it out like night-club bouncers. Our ability to process alcohol has deep evolutionary roots.”

It continues: “Ten million years ago a common ancestor of humans, chimpanzees and gorillas acquired a mutation that let them remove ethanol from the body more efficiently. This adaptation coincided with a change of habitat. Tropical forests were collapsing… Some 90% of apes went extinct. One lineage survived by leaving the trees and foraging on the ground. 

“Whereas apes in trees gobbled fresh fruit, those on the ground found fallen fruit, which ferments. Thus, our ancestors may have acquired a taste for alcohol–which allowed them to use these scarce calories.”

You pretty much know the rest.

Evidence in the form of yeast residue in pottery jugs suggests intentionally fermented beverages existed at least ten thousand years ago, near the end of the Stone Age. 

The ability to make beverage alcohol made civilization possible because it was healthier to drink than water. Humans in large numbers, then as now, tend to pollute local water supplies with their waste. Even a small concentration of alcohol can kill most of the nasty bugs that sicken people, allowing populations to grow.

Another way alcohol made civilization possible was by helping people get along. Perhaps there is more fighting today because there is less drinking.

After 1492, Spain’s New World colonies in Central and South America exported gold, silver, and sugar. The equivalent in the north for the British, French, and Dutch was fur, mostly beaver. Most trapping was done by indigenous people. What did European traders give Indians for those pelts? We’re always told “trade goods,” but mostly it was alcohol, primarily rum made from the residue of Caribbean sugar production.

The trade preferred alcohol not because they wanted to drink it, though some did, but because it was easy to trade. In a barter economy, alcohol is the nearest thing to currency. It’s portable as well as potable. It’s easy to divide and always in demand.

So, yes, alcohol--ethanol--is poison. But it is poison with benefits. Its ability to kill harmful microbes we didn’t even know existed was just one of its boons. Like ephedra and other Stone Age drugs, it alters consciousness in ways that may have prompted the first religions.

When European-Americans spilled over the Appalachians into the American interior, they established communities based on a nexus of cereal farmers, millers, and distillers. Alcohol taxes fueled government at every level. Until income tax, alcohol taxes were the principal source of funding for national defense. 

All the way up to Prohibition, the profitability of alcohol businesses, both producers and merchants, allowed many to function informally as community banks. Many distillers were also millers and livestock feeders, so they sold more to the community than booze. Henry McKenna, a distiller in Fairfield, Kentucky, gave his suppliers and customers the equivalent of a free checking account, even floating small interest-free loans. It was good for his business but good for the community too.

You weren't taught any of this in school. Our inability as a society to be honest about alcohol may be part of the problem. Everything children are taught about alcohol is contradicted by their own experiences.

In part because it is so ubiquitous, alcohol is implicated in many social problems. We blame alcohol for traffic accidents and domestic violence, but don't give it credit for facilitating successful business deals or courtships. 

Today, the press is full of stories about young people turning away from alcohol, for health reasons or because they prefer other intoxicants. Weight loss drugs seem to suppress the appetite for alcohol too. Beer, wine, and spirits have all seen sales decline. The threat of trade wars is disrupting the international market. All of the arrows seem to be pointing down, but if young Americans, or any people anywhere, permanently and voluntarily stop consuming alcohol in large numbers it will be a phenomenon unprecedented in human history.

I wouldn’t bet on it.

Last week, Bobby Kennedy's Department of Health and Human Services released its new dietary guidelines. For a long time, the government's guidelines recommended "moderate" alcohol consumption, which it defined as no more than two drinks per day for men and one for women. A "drink" is defined as a beverage containing 0.6 fluid ounces or 14 grams of pure alcohol. That's one beer, one glass of wine, one cocktail, or about 1.5 ounces of 80° proof whiskey.

The new guidelines just say, "consume less alcohol" and abstain altogether if you have certain health conditions.

What's a drunk monkey to do?