Corruption in the Court

Part of my internship duties entail interviewing foreign businesses operating in Latvia. These interviews are conducted in order to obtain an outsider's perception towards Latvian corruption. Most interviews are rather dull, composed of quick "yes" and "no" answers. I can't blame them; here I am, some punk intern jutting into their business hours. But sometimes, if I am lucky, these people will have real beef against Latvia. Those interviews are the good ones.

I had one such interview last week. A prominent international business owner from Sweden gave me a few eye popping accounts of his dealings in the Latvian business sector. He also rattled off a few subjective insights.

He said that in his experience, the only country more corrupt in the private sector than Latvia is Russia. Anyone who knows anything about Russia knows that, if this is true, it is a big deal. He mentioned how the 3 largest Scandinavian construction companies completely gave up and withdrew from Latvia a number of years ago because their sector was so bogged down by bribery and under-the-table payments that they could never secure a bid.

He said that in his experience, noting the exceptions of the Scandinavian countries, Germany, Switzerland, and the UK, the European Union as a whole is more corrupt than the US. Anyone who knows anything about the US knows that, if this is true, it is a big deal - the US is nowhere near squeaky clean. He mentioned that the governments are so tied into the private sector that self-indulged bureaucrats run the entire economies. Again, he noted, it has been extremely difficult for foreign companies to win fair contracts there.

He related to me an experience that took place here in Latvia 5 years ago. A Latvian friend of his required an operation. The doctor requested an under-the-table "facilitation" payment of 1000Lats ($2220usd) in order to operate. Unable to afford the bribe, this Latvian friend approached the Swede asking to borrow the money. The money was lent and the operation ensued.

After the operation, the Swede and his friend decided to take the doctor to trail for extortion and taking bribes. A trail ensued. During the hearings, however, it was discovered that the courts themselves were guilty of the same crimes as the doctor: 2 judges involved in the case had accepted bribes from the doctor to rule in his favor.

The doctor was found guilty and sentenced accordingly. But still - after 5 years - no ruling has been made against the judges, despite the efforts of this Swedish business owner and others. The courts are simply too bogged down in their own internal corrupt behavior that nothing is being solved or done.

What a sad and disturbing thing to have happen. Can you imagine living in a country where corruption had permeated even the very courts which hold the responsibility of interpreting and upholding the law?

We can only hope things never get this out of control back home. The slope is definitely slippery when dealing with corruption. We must be willingly to do something about it if it does happen.

The biggest problem facing Latvians is apathy - people view corrupt businessmen, politicians, and courts as simply part of "the system" - it's just the way it is.

The fact is: that is not the way it is. In order to keep a democracy running, we cannot afford to ever forget that.

1 Month to Go and Nothing to Write

As the time ticks away, today marks the day in which I have exactly 1 month left to go here in Latvia. 1 month, that's all. It has gone by rather quickly, I would dare say, and with only a month to go, I hope time does not decelerate. But, I honestly hope that this last month be the best month.

Unfortunately, with 2 months already under my belt, if you haven't already picked up on it, I find myself lacking interesting things to tell of. I don't get lost anymore, nothing is quite as novel, most of the big ooo's and ahh's have already been written about, and I am just here, in the swing of things. And on days like today, in which nothing extraordinary or spectacular happens, it leaves me nearly completely void of anything to write about (hence, The Beard Album). My apologies. I simply cannot bring my mind to think of anything concerning me and/or Latvia that is of sufficient importance to write.

So instead, I will mention a New York Times article. Now I know the New York Times is held by some as the "great perpetuator of the left, the flagship of the liberal media." For those who view it as such, fine. But just for the record, I enjoy it.

The following is a recent column I found particularly provocative and wanted to pass along to all 5 (if that) of you who read this waining blog of mine.

In January 1841, Abraham Lincoln seems to have at least vaguely thought of suicide. His friend Joshua Speed found him one day thrashing about in his room. “Lincoln went Crazy,” Speed wrote. “I had to remove razors from his room — take away all Knives and other such dangerous things — it was terrible.”

Lincoln was taking three mercury pills a day, the remedy in those days for people who either suffered from syphilis or feared contracting it. “Lincoln could not eat or sleep,” Daniel Mark Epstein writes in his new book, “The Lincolns.” “He appeared at the statehouse irregularly, hollow-eyed, unshaven, emaciated — an object of pity to his friends and of derision to others.”

Later, Lincoln wrote of that period with shame, saying that he had lost the “gem of my character.” He would withdraw morosely from the world into a sort of catatonic state. Early in his marriage, Epstein writes, “Lincoln had night terrors. He woke in the middle of the night trembling, talking gibberish.”

He would, of course, climb out of it. He would come to terms with his weaknesses, control his passions and achieve what we now call maturity.

The concept of maturity has undergone several mutations over the course of American history. In Lincoln’s day, to achieve maturity was to succeed in the conquest of the self. Human beings were born with sin, infected with dark passions and satanic temptations. The transition to adulthood consisted of achieving mastery over them.

You can read commencement addresses from the 19th and early 20th centuries in which the speakers would talk about the beast within and the need for iron character to subdue it. Schoolhouse readers emphasized self-discipline. The whole character-building model was sin-centric. So the young Lincoln had been encouraged by the culture around him to identify his own flaws — and, in any case, he had no trouble finding them. He knew he was ferociously ambitious and blessed with superior talents — the sort of person who could easily turn into a dictator or monster.

Over the course of his young adulthood, Lincoln built structures around his inner nature. He joined a traditional bourgeois marriage. He called his wife “mother” and lived in a genteel middle-class home. He engaged in feverish bouts of self-improvement, studying Euclid and grammar at all hours. He distrusted passionate politics. In the Lyceum speech that he delivered as a young man, he attacked emotionalism in politics and talked about the need for law, order and cool reason.

This concept of maturity as self-conquest didn’t survive long into the 20th century. Progressive educators emphasized students’ inner goodness and curiosity, not inner depravity. More emphasis was put on individual freedom, authenticity and values clarification. Self-discovery replaced self-mastery as the primary path to maturity, and we got a thousand novels and memoirs about young peoples’ search for identity.

In the last few years, we may be shifting toward another vision of maturity, one that is impatient with boomer narcissism. Young people today put service at the center of young adulthood. A child is served, but maturity means serving others.

And yet, though we’re never going back to the 19th-century, sin-centric character-building model, for breeding leaders, it has its uses. Over the past decades, we’ve seen president after president confident of his own talents but then undone by underappreciated flaws. It’s as if they get elected for their virtues and then get defined in office by the vices — Clinton’s narcissism, Bush’s intellectual insecurity — they’ve never really faced.

It would be nice to have a president who had gone to school on his own failings. It would be comforting to see a president who’d looked into the abyss, or suffered some sort of ordeal that put him on a first-name basis with his own gravest weaknesses, and who had found ways to combat them.

Obviously, it’s not fair to compare anybody to Lincoln, but he does illustrate the repertoire of skills we look for in a leader. The central illusion of modern politics is that if only people as virtuous as “us” had power, then things would be better. Candidates get elected by telling people what they want to hear, leading them by using the sugar of their own fantasies.

Somehow a leader conversant with his own failings wouldn’t be as affected by the moral self-approval that afflicts most political movements. He’d be detached from his most fervid followers and merciful and understanding toward foes. He’d have a sense of his own smallness in the sweep of events. He or she would contravene Lord Acton’s dictum and grow sadder and wiser with more power.

All this suggests a maxim for us voters: Don’t only look to see which candidate has the most talent. Look for the one most emotionally gripped by his own failings.

Written by David Brooks


Just something to consider. Re-read the last 4 paragraphs. Mr. Brooks is on to something.

See, you can learn a lot from the New York Times.

The Beard Album

Back on April 10th, I wrote about my experience at the Latvian Symphony. Most notable, was the fact that during the monotonous, completely mundane and torpid organ solo I noticed all the older men with beards (See The Maestro, April 10).

In light of the fact that a it seems like a considerably greater amount of men let their faces go in Eastern Europe, I have begun The Beard Album.



Should I feel bad taking all these pictures without these men knowing? I don't think so. They are probably more than grateful to contribute their folliclical energies to the cause of man. They know, that one day, the razor wielding, iron fist that binds both BYU students and "professionals" alike will, in its own dictatorial fury and paranoia, smash itself to pieces. One day, Fashion and Professionalism, the great worldly goddesses worshiped by both old and young, bond and free, will be humiliated and brought low as Baal. One day, no longer will the Head monkey in Paris be followed,* but men will wear their faces as they are so inclined. Lennon said it best: hair peace.

To these men, whom I have covertly taken photos of, I dedicate The Beard Album. Thank you, guys.

*A reference to Thoreau, who, speaking on following the capriciousness of fashion, said with great satire, "The Head monkey at Paris puts on a traveler's cap, and all the monkeys in America do the same."

The Formal Reception

This evening I attended my first formal reception/cocktail party/whatever you call it when you go into a fancy ballroom and drink and eat fancy foods and meet people.

This particular reception/cocktail party/whatever you call it when you go into a fancy ballroom and drink and eat fancy foods and meet people was thrown by The Latvian Council of Foreign of Foreign Investors. Transparency International-Latvia somehow was fortunate enough to garner an invite (We’re unclear of whether the invitation was simply to be nice and recognize us, or to suck up to us so we won’t audit anyone) . It was hosted in what is known here as the “Small Guild,” an old Hanseatic League building owned by the city that now is used for upscale events and receptions like tonight’s.

Waiters with trays of champagne and wine greeted us at the door. I felt like I was in a movie. There was a jazz trio playing in the corner of the ballroom and tables were piled high with the most obscurely fancy orderves (sp?) and finger foods I have ever seen. Some, like the prime rib kebabs, were absolutely the best thing I’ve eaten in over 2 months. Others, such as the pickled pear with blue-cheese spread on top was not so good. And the caviar-like, raw salmon thing was ok.

The majority of those in attendance were high rollers sitting on millions of dollars worth of Latvian investments. My boss - a good guy, father of 4 in his late 30s - and I felt just a tad out of place without the obscenely priced clothing that everyone else was wearing (heak, I didn’t even have on a tie) but it was fine. We sort of just did our own thing in the corner close to the food.

Occasionally, some big wig would come over and speak to us. The conversation always died out rather awkwardly as they realized we were not anyone influential they were trying to rub shoulders with. I’m laughing just thinking about it. I mean, Marcis (my boss) showed up on his bike and I on foot. We were basically there just to mooch free food – and that’s exactly what we did. mmmmm.

Marcis and I. This is after the party had pretty much cleared out. We were some of the last few to leave - never eat and run, only eat.

Not What it Seems

In response to a recent request to post pictures of the KGB prison (thank you Jesse), I must say that I really don't have any. The outside of the building is actually a very nice piece of architecture which sits right on the main thoroughfare through town. You would never suspect that inside held a prison complete with torture rooms and execution chambers. Unfortunately, I did not take any shots of the inside because I was unwilling to pay extra to take photography - I hate when they do that! But here is the front of the building.


As you can see, totally normal. And here is the view looking down the street. It is right in the center of the city when you'd expect it to be in some far off, obscure area.


And you can't really tell, but this is the side of the building and those windows along the foundation are the windows to the prison cells. During the KGB days, the windows were painted over.


And that is all. Thinking about it now, maybe I should have paid the few extra bucks to take pictures inside? because these shots are lame. Come to think of it, I didn't even ask how much it would be!? hmmmm.

Microwaves

When I was still young in the mission, my companion and I got some leftover food from some branch member's party or something once. By the time we got home, the food was cold. Not having a microwave, I was just going to eat it cold but my companion suggested heating it up. "How?" I asked him. "How do you think?" he replied very sarcastically. I really didn't have an idea and I told him so.

It was then that I received the most cynical response I have ever gotten in my life - and it was deserved. "With FIRE," he sternly told me as he got out a frying pan, threw in the left overs, and turned on the gas burner. Oh.

Yes, I felt very sheepish. It's just that always growing up with a microwave, it had never occurred to me that food could actually be rewarmed by just putting it on the stove.

I am now living in similar circumstances without a microwave (only there is no heavy Guatemalan looking at me like I'm the most ignorant and pathetic dummy that ever walked). Sometimes I pull out the frying pan to heat food up but then I run the risk of charring whatever it is I'm wanting to eat. I've discovered a better way.

By resting a smaller pot full of left overs on the rim of a larger pot full of water, I have fashioned a double-boiler that serves the purpose of a microwave. I know! I'm genius! It works great only instead of a quick, minute-and-thirty second warm up it takes about 10 minutes once the water starts boiling. But hey, it works!

Now, whenever I hear that "Wells Fargo Wagon" song from The Music Man (you know - oh, oh the wells fargo wagon is a...comin' down the street, oh please let it be for me!) it has more meaning for me. In one line, a lady blasts out, "or a...double-boiler!" as her wish for what she wants the Wells Fargo Wagon to bring. Ha! I already have one! And I didn't have to wait for some crummy wagon to get it! Ha, lady!.

Vilnius

My weekend was spent in the capital of Lithuania. Vilnius a seriously cool place - by far the best in the Baltics to visit. It really is a neat place to be. There is just a cool, almost chill, vibe there that doesn't exist in either Tallinn or Riga, it just feels much more European than the other two. This is probably due to the relatively low Russian population in comparison with Latvia and Estonia.

The bus arrived in Vilnius around 3pm Saturday afternoon. I was more than thrilled to be off the bus. There must have been 20 kids around the ages of 10, 11, 12 on that bus. I don't know if there is anything more aggravating than 20 Gameboys or PSPs or whatever all blaring their obnoxious video game sounds all at the same time. I couldn't fall asleep for the entire 5 hour ride. I almost lost my cool. I really wanted to just stand up and yell, "TURN YOUR FREAKING SOUND OFF!" but I didn't. I'm not sure they would have understood me even if I did.

I got to Vilnius, and like I said, it was sweet. I've given up paying entrance fees so I didn't actually go inside much - after awhile, it's all the same anyways. Instead I just wandered around, "parading" if you will. I found my way to a park in which they were having their annual folk festival. What luck! It was the best. I spent a good 2-3 hours just chilling in the park, listening to the Lithuanian folk music and eating good Lithuanian food.

I found my way over to the Vilnius Basilica. Now, I've seen a few churches over here but this was truly impressive. It was enormous and ornate in its classical styling. Unlike Estonia and Latvia, Lithuania (like its neighbor Poland) remained Catholic through the Reformation. Interestingly enough, I have never actually seen a Catholic place of worship even half full for mass; until Sunday morning. This place was packed.

Sunday morning I visited on old KGB facility. This place has been left exactly as the KGB left it in 1991 and has now been turned into a museum. I'm not sure I have been in a more disturbing place. The prison was absolutely horrifying. The "boxes," little 3ft. by 3ft. cement cells, the torture rooms, and the execution chamber were almost too much to see without getting completely depressed and disgusted.

In the "exercise yard," an outdoor but enclosed area of maybe 10ft. by 15ft., I sat down on the single bench that occupied the center of the area and just thought. The people interred there, who were not criminals but simply enemies of a motherland they had never professed allegiance to, were subject to such inhumane treatment. It was horribly depressing. What made it even more realistically unnerving was that most of the museum guides were former inmates.

I strolled through town some more after the prison. It was around 12:30pm when I received a text message from a pair of elders back in Riga in response to my query concerning the time and place of church in Vilnius (all 3 Baltic states comprise one single mission). They told me the address and time of church, which was at 1 o'clock; I had a half an hour to get directions to the chapel and get myself there. After asking a few people where the address was, I realized that only by taking a taxi would I get there in time. I grabbed a cab and made it just as the meeting was beginning. It wasn't until the sacrament was being passed that I actually ran the exchange rate and did the math in my head. Holy crap! I just spent $20usd to get to church. Ah man.

When I am in Heaven and allowed to see the replay of my life, I will definitely ask to see my face in sacrament meeting that moment. Twenty bucks; I couldn't believe it. I sure hope I got 20 bucks worth of the Spirit.

Nah, just kidding. It was worth it. I'll just have to budget that money out of the next two weeks' groceries. What can you do.