Descending from the heights, part Zombie!

Nope, we're not talking about "cruel, demented, vicious pirates who cannot be killed," though that's interesting too:



But rather, as has been extensively well-documented on the pirate blog, Catherine and I are perhaps understandably concerned with being taken seriously, not in spite of, but rather because of, our study of something as popular as pirates. So we're always on the look-out for cases where popular culture is treated as analytically relevant to scholarly research, and the BBC today was happy to oblige. According to an article entitled "Science ponders 'zombie attack'," mathematical researchers at the University of Ottawa have used the hypothetical scenario of a zombie attack as an exercise in infectious disease modeling.

Professor Robert Smith? (the question mark is part of his surname and not a typographical mistake) and colleagues wrote: "We model a zombie attack using biological assumptions based on popular zombie movies. We introduce a basic model for zombie infection and illustrate the outcome with numerical solutions."

The researchers only considered old-school slow zombies, but even so, the results were worrying:

... their analysis revealed that a strategy of capturing or curing the zombies would only put off the inevitable. In their scientific paper, the authors conclude that humanity's only hope is to "hit them [the undead] hard and hit them often". They added: "It's imperative that zombies are dealt with quickly or else... we are all in a great deal of trouble." According to the researchers, the key difference between the zombies and the spread of real infections is that "zombies can come back to life".

This study (available in full here) is an example of the "popular culture as a mirror" approach outlined in the introduction to Harry Potter and International Relations (11-13), as can be seen from the article's abstract:

Zombies are a popular figure in pop culture/entertainment and they are usually portrayed as being brought about through an outbreak or epidemic. Consequently, we model a zombie attack, using biological assumptions based on popular zombie movies. We introduce a basic model for zombie infection, determine equilibria and their stability, and illustrate the outcome with numerical solutions. We then refine the model to introduce a latent period of zombification, whereby humans are infected, but not infectious, before becoming undead. We then modify the model to include the effects of possible quarantine or a cure. Finally, we examine the impact of regular, impulsive reductions in the number of zombies and derive conditions under which eradication can occur. We show that only quick, aggressive attacks can stave off the doomsday scenario: the collapse of society as zombies overtake us all.

Meanwhile, on his Foreign Policy blog, Daniel Drezner briefly and light-heartedly applies some theories of International Relations to a zombie attack. While Drezner's analysis is not fully fleshed-out (sorry!), a brief survey (n=3) I conducted in the last 5 minutes unanimously suggests that zombies should probably be considered alongside Kosovo to understand IR theory. As Daniel Nexon and Iver Neumann write, "The mirror approach is broader than simply deploying popular culture artifacts as a teaching aid. IR scholars can examine popular culture as a medium for exploring theoretical concepts, dilemmas of foreign policy, and the like" (12). As an important caveat, 2/3 of respondents conditioned their response on zombie attacks, unlike extraterrestrial visitations, remaining confined to the realm of hypothetical thought experiments.

How do you hide an elephant?

The Maltese-flagged, Finnish-chartered ship that reported being attacked by pirates in the Baltic sea on July 24 has apparently disappeared. The Arctic Sea, a cargo ship carrying 6,500 tons of timber, was supposed to have reached Algeria on August 4 and was last spotted on July 30 when it passed through the Bay of Biscay, but the Portuguese naval commander states that, "We can guarantee that the ship is not in Portuguese waters nor did it ever pass through Portuguese waters." This bizarre occurrence has sparked confused debate about whether or not the ship could have fallen victim to a pirate attack. Some maritime experts are hesitant about attributing the disappearance to pirates, suggesting a commercial dispute instead. From today's AP article:

"There have been no attacks in European waters," said Pottengal Mukundan, director of the London-based International Maritime Bureau. "It's not the kind of area where pirates would find it easy to operate." Nick Davis, the chief executive of the Merchant Maritime Warfare Centre, told the BBC that if anything had happened to the ship, cargo would have been found. "I strongly suspect that this is probably a commercial dispute with its owner and a third party and they've decided to take matters into their own hands," he said Wednesday.

Other maritime security experts have labeled this scenario "a new type of piracy" and have expressed amazement at the disappearance of a 4,000 tonne ship in the world's best-traveled shipping route:

Graeme Gibbon-Brooks, managing director of Dryad Maritime, an intelligence company specialising in piracy, said that if the ship may have been the victim of a new kind of piracy.

“If this is a criminal act, it appears to be following a new business model. It seems likely that the vessel will head to the west coast of Africa,” he said.

Mark Dickinson, general secretary of seafarers’ union Nautilus International, said: “It is alarming that, in the 21st century, a ship can apparently be commandeered by hijackers and sail through the world’s busiest waterway with no alarm being raised and no naval vessel going to intercept it.

“It is unbelievable that a ship can sail around for more than a fortnight with no one seemingly knowing its precise location or who is in control.”

The International Maritime Bureau, for its incredulous part, has not classified the incident as piracy: "We are not going to classify this as a piracy event, mainly because of the location and circumstance," he [Jeremy Harrison of the British Chamber of Shipping] said. The bureau is unaware of any piracy in recent memory in the waters off Sweden," spokesman Cyrus Mody said.

The Russian navy has joined in the hunt for the ship, and its warships and nuclear submarines have have been told to “take all necessary measures to find and free” the ship and its 15-man Russian crew. According to CNN, Mikhail Voitenko, editor of the Russian Maritime Bulletin Web site said he believed the vessel was carrying "some kind of secret cargo" which made it attractive to potential hijackers. The crew's account of the July 24 attack suggests a drug connection, a possibility the Telegraph has speculated about.

The New York Times reports that Maltese officials believe the ship to be headed out into the Atlantic.

Somalia and its pirates - back in the news again

While in Kenya last week, US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton pledged greater support for Somalia's incredibly weak transitional federal government, met with Somali president Sheik Sharif Sheik Ahmed, and threatened sanctions against Eritrea for supporting al-Shabab and the other Islamist militias which are reported by the Somali president himself to control all but a few city blocks of Somalia. In keeping with the tone of Clinton's remarks (including those made after the meeting), much of the recent coverage of Somalia has been focused on the threat of terrorism (including this interesting story about an attempt by a Minneapolis radio station to counter extremist propaganda with Somali-language VOA news coverage; apparently airing a program in produced by US public diplomacy is illegal in the US).

However, the renewed discussion of Somalia's identity as a failed state has obvious implications for addressing piracy off its shores. The recent rebirth of the Somali navy has attracted a moderate amount of news coverge, though a Coast Guard anti-piracy task force might be more effective. This BBC article on Somali's new Navy chief highlights the absurdity of commanding a Navy in the absence of a government, ships, equipment, and control of the coastline, but the Somali government has long maintained that training such a force is the best way to prevent piracy. Writing for Information Dissemination, Robert Farley suggests that the need for training represents an opportunity for the US to "influence the institutional development not just of the Somali Navy, but also of the various other navies of East Africa, and the rest of the world." The EU has already announced its plans to train a Somali anti-piracy security force, but it appears this would be distinct from the nascent Navy.

The relationship between shoring up Somali governmental institutions and the media focus on piracy cuts both ways. In a briefing on the semi-autonomous Puntland region published today, the International Crisis Group states that:

The [Somali] government must take advantage of the piracy-driven international attention to mobilise funds and expertise to carry out comprehensive political, economic and institutional reforms that address the fundamental problems of poor governance, corruption, unemployment and the grinding poverty in coastal villages. The international community needs to refocus on the long-term measures without which there can be no sustainable end to that practice or true stability. Equipping and training a small coast guard is obviously a necessary investment, but so too are other steps, such as to improve the general welfare and help impoverished fishing communities.

Meanwhile, a Turkish frigate working with NATO forces in the Gulf of Aden captured five suspected pirates today and is claiming to have prevented a possible ship hijacking, and the Hansa Stavanger, the German ship released last week, is headed home to Germany where Defense Minister Franz Josef Jung has called for a constitutional amendment giving German armed forces a greater role in hostage rescue situations, citing the length of time it took for German police forces to deploy to the Horn of Africa after the Hansa Stavanger was hijacked.

US officials too are worried about the threat of piracy in the Gulf of Aden. Citing dangers to US shipping (and thereby linking pirates to the "trade" commonplace in our analytical model), Elijah Cummings, Chair of the House Subcommittee on Coast Guard and Maritime Transportation, recently wrote an op-ed about his amendment to the National Defense Authorization Act that "would require the Department of Defense to place small teams of armed security aboard those few U.S. flagged ships truly at risk of being boarded when they carry U.S. government cargo through an area where there is a high risk of piracy." The House passed the Act and Cummings's amendment last month.

Pirate attacks in the Gulf of Aden are expected to increase in coming weeks with the end of monsoon season in east Africa.

We made a movie!

The video below demonstrates the ways in which a finite number of rhetorical commonplaces (morality, romance, law, marginality, history, trade, nation, and violence) were configured during five eras of the pirate tradition (the Golden Age of Piracy, the period between the Golden Age and the Civil War, the Civil War era, the 20th century, and today). The straight lines represent links made between commonplaces; the dashed lines represent distancing mechanisms, that is, when the commonsensical link between two commonplaces was severed. For instance, in the first slide, the commonplaces of "marginal" and "nation" are both linked and distanced. This is because some key texts from that period articulate a link between pirates' marginal identity and a given nation, while others carve out space for pirates within the national discourse. The linking mechanism occurs in a 1699 letter, published as a broadsheet, and calling upon Parliament to stamp out piracy in the Americas by "bring[ing] all these Colonies to a more immediate dependence on the Crown." Distancing can be seen in the preface to the second edition (1684) of Buccaneers of America, which talks about "the unparallel'd, in not inimitable, adventures and Heroick exploits of our own Countrey-men ... whose undaunted and exemplary Courage, when called upon by our King and Country, we ought to emulate."


(For some reason, creating an animated version of the rhetorical topographies we drew up last week seemed like a good project to start around 11:30 last night ... When I finished in the wee hours of the morning, I couldn't figured out a better way to turn a PowerPoint presentation into a video than the following, though clearly it has some problems. We are, of course, working on a formal analytical write-up of this complex process during the daylight hours.)

Book Critique: The Invisible Hook

The following critique is from a first draft of our literature review. It is deliberately analytical, rather than normative, in keeping with the orientation of our own research project. This is why, instead of objecting to Leeson's characterization of torture as rational on normative grounds, I have pointed out the empirical contradictions in his analysis of torture and looked at his arguments as a means to undermine the explanatory power of rational choice theory on this subject. This is not to suggest that I in any way agree with the normative implications of Leeson's hagiographic treatment of pirates, but merely that for the purposes of our project, it made sense to confine my critical reading to the analytic realm.
***
In his 2009 book The Invisible Hook: The Hidden Economics of Pirates, economist Peter T. Leeson argues that rational choice theory is the only way to understand “flamboyant, bizarre, and downright shocking pirate practices” of the 18th century (6). Leeson’s thesis is that ostensibly modern societal ideas such as the democratic process, power-sharing, and racial equality emerged not as liberal ideological ends, but as rationally efficient means by which pirates could operate as a successful criminal social group. Leeson offers an economic basis for accounts of piratical democracies, codes of conduct, and racial tolerance; presents flying the Jolly Roger and torturing captives as rationally-motivated examples of economic signaling; and argues that conscription was the inefficient exception, not the rule, aboard pirate ships. However, because Leeson begins with the assumption that pirates were rational actors (5), his subsequent empirical proof of how pirates’ actions were rational is unnecessary, rendering his analysis an unimpressive contribution to understanding the pirate tradition¹. Indeed, The Invisible Hook is better viewed as a particular configuration of commonplaces than as a conceptual history of piracy (Hansen 2006: 81). There are three main problems with Leeson’s work as a piece of analytical literature: flawed reasoning; empirical errors; internal inconsistencies.

Leeson’s account is unique among modern sources on historical piracy in its acknowledgment of the important role perception plays in the pirate tradition. He argues that pirates deliberately crafted a terrifying image of themselves in order to more efficiently elicit information from hostages, punish government officials, and regulate conduct on board the ship. “Pirates skillfully deployed their infamous instruments of terror, generating a reputation for cruelty and madness that spread throughout the maritime world” (108). Similarly, by flying the Jolly Roger, pirate ships signaled their identity to merchant ships in order to minimize resistance (90), and to capitalize on the fact that merchants were less likely to resist pirates than state-sanctioned attackers (99). Leeson’s research suggests that pirates quite deliberately linked their marginal identity to a discourse of barbarism and excessive violence. Although this argument reveals a particularly interesting rhetorical positioning of piratical identity, as an analytical justification for pirates’ rationality, it is fundamentally tautological. If we begin with the assumption that pirates are rational actors, then of course pirates’ actions can – indeed, must – be read as rational, but this is little more than an elaborate definition of the original assumption, akin to Leeson’s statement that “Pirates’ system of private governance was highly successful, a fact reflected in the success of piracy itself” (79). In addition to being a tautology, the conclusion of this statement is not entirely true. By the late 1700s, piracy would be virtually eliminated as large-scale threat for close to 300 years. The Invisible Hook only explains a discrete moment in the pirate tradition; it does not consider how interpretations of the threat of piracy changed over time nor does it explain how piracy ceased to be regarded as a credible threat at all.

Leeson’s empirical evidence for his claims about pirates’ rational actions is flawed or incomplete in several places. Many of his arguments about piratical democratic institutions and systems of governance are based on so-called pirate codes (58). While there is indeed evidence that pirates drew up such agreements, there is much less to suggest these codes were reliably enforced. There are three reasons to regard the presumed adherence to these codes with skepticism. First, Leeson presents Charles Johnson’s account² of such articles aboard Captain Robert’s ship as evidence for pirates’ private governance (62). Aside from the obvious point that existence of an ostensibly liberal democratic constitution does not in any way guarantee liberal democratic rule, there is textual evidence in the Johnson account itself which suggests that the articles enumerated therein were incomplete and probably whitewashed:

These, we are assured, were some of Roberts's Articles, but as they had taken Care to throw over-board the Original they had sign'd and sworn to, there is a great deal of Room to suspect, the remainder contained something too horrid to be disclosed to any, except such as were willing to be Sharers in the Iniquity of them ... (Defoe 1724: 233)

Second, Leeson also offers Alexander Exquemelin’s description of 17th century buccaneers’ articles of agreement as further evidence of the triumph of piratical private governance. However, if Johnson expressed doubts about the content of the articles aboard Roberts’ ship, the anonymous author of the preface to the 1699 edition of Exquemelin’s Buccaneers of America specifically calls into question the enforcement of the articles designed to prevent negative externalities:

However it is very remarkable, that in such a lawless Body as these Bucaniers seemed to be, in respect to all others; that yet there should be such an Oeconomy (if I may so say) kept and regularity practiced among themselves, so that every one seemed to have his property as much secured, as if he had been a member of the most Civilized Community in the World; tho at the same time when I consider of some of their Laws, such as those against Drunkenness and the like immoralities, I believe I have a great deal of reason to remain suspicious of their Sincerity. (Esquemeling 1699: 5. Emphasis added)

Although neither of these quotations specifically says that pirates’ compliance with their articles of confederation was less than exemplary, they do indicate that even pirates’ contemporaries had reason to doubt the adherence to liberal democratic norms aboard pirate ships. Leeson’s uncritical acceptance of piratical obedience indicates a lack of analytical rigor for the sake of theoretical coherence, since rational choice theory only tells us something about pirate laws if these laws were actually obeyed.

Finally, because Leeson walks a fine line in his analysis (pirates were only just violent enough to craft a public identity for themselves as violent), he ends up undermining his initial claim that adherence to pirate codes was purely voluntary. Leeson contends that private governance is superior to state governments, and he alleges that the primary difference between the two is that governance is voluntary while government is characterized by coercive force (47-50). It is therefore essential that he prove that pirate codes were consented to voluntarily, an argument he makes in his application of Tiebout model to competition among pirate crews (61). Actually, because Tiebout competition describes how governments (not forms of governance) compete for citizens, this concept directly refutes Leeson’s earlier assertion that “If you don’t like the rules government sets up, it’s too bad. You don’t have the choice of saying … ‘no thank you, I don’t much care for your rules, so I’m going to take my money and live according to my own rules’” (50). Tiebout competition assumes citizens can, to use Leeson’s formulation, say, “I don’t much care for your rules, so I’m going to take my money and live according to some other rules.”³

Leeson’s initial assertion is not only a questionable application of social contract theory⁴ and theoretically inconsistent with his use of Tiebout competition, but most importantly it is empirically refuted in his chapter on impressments. Leeson begins this chapter by asserting that conscription and forced adherence to pirate law was seen as inefficient and therefore rare aboard pirate ships (136). However, the empirical accounts he uses to support this assertion suggest that coercive force played a significant role even in “voluntary” adherence to pirate codes:

When Edward Low captured Philip Ashton, for instance, he began with the pirates’ traditional inquiry of the captured crew about who would join them. As Ashton put it, “according to the Pirates usual custom ... [he] asked me, If I would sign their Articles and go along with them.” A man of strong moral fiber, Ashton declined. When this failed Low returned to him later and “asked the Old Question, Whether we would Sign their Articles, and go along with them?” When Ashton refused again, Low waited and then reapproached Ashton, this time demanding “with Sterness and Threats, whether I would Joyn with them?” On his third refusal the pirates “assaulted” Ashton -- but not with fists. Rather, they subjected the upright sailor to “temptations of another kind, in hopes to win me over... [they] treated me with an abundance of Respect and Kindness,” offering Ashton a drink and doing all they could to “sooth my Sorrows.” Only when Ashton rebuffed the fourth advance did a frustrated Low resort to violent intimidation, declaring, “If you will not sign our Articles, and go along with me, I'll shoot you thro' the Head.” Much to Low's consternation, Ashton remained obstinate, and the pirate captain dragged Ashton with him anyway. (137-138)

Though Leeson inexplicably reads the repeated attempts to convince Ashton to sign the articles as evidence of the high value pirates placed on volunteers, there can be no clearer articulation of coercive force than, “If you will not sign our Articles, I’ll shoot you through the head.” The bizarreness of this interpretation is underscored by Leeson’s earlier statement that, “Voluntary choice requires that our options aren’t framed under the threat of force” (50).

Leeson goes on to say that “Some prisoners ‘converted’ because pirate crews denied conscripts the rights afforded to volunteers, such as participation in the ship's democratic decision making, the right to their shares of plunder, and the right to settle disputes with other crew members by duel” (141). However, the denial of rights to those who will not adhere to the laws is yet another example of the sort of coercive force Leeson so strongly objects to in governments (50-51). Despite his professed preference for private governance, Leeson does seem to tacitly admit the necessity of government in some cases. In his chapter in the rational applications of torture, Leeson writes that “In terms of the costs and benefits they faced of bringing justice⁵ to abusive merchant ship captains on the high seas, pirates were better suited to this task than government” (127). However, he later notes that “absent any controls, pirate justice could be unfair, excessive, and in more than a few cases was probably totally unwarranted” (132). This is essentially Hobbes’ argument for why coercive government is necessary.

In addition to being empirically weak and internally inconsistent, Leeson’s book ends up telling us little more than the following: If we assume pirates were rational actors, then we can construct rational explanations for their actions. Leeson has attempted to do this, resulting in an analytically empty tautology that says that rationally self-interested cooperation can lead to ostensibly democratic social groups, excessively brutal torture, racial equality, participation in the slave trade, and colorful flags.

¹Furthermore, Leeson concedes that rational choice theory fails to account for all piratical actions, noting that “although pirates overwhelmingly tortured ‘with purpose,’ there are cases that were no more than sadism as well” (132). The distinction between “rational” torture and “sadistic” torture is left wholly unclear.

²Some editions of A General History of the Pyrates have been inaccurately attributed to Daniel Defoe. Although present-day research indicates that Defoe was not in fact the author, our citations reflect the author listed on the edition being cited.

³Or more formally, “In a Tiebout model, local jurisdictions compete for citizens by offering bundles of public goods. Citizens then sort themselves among jurisdictions according to their preferences.” (Ken Kollman, John H. Miller and Scott E. Page. “Political Institutions and Sorting in a Tiebout Model.” The American Economic Review, Vol. 87, No. 5. Dec. 1997: 977)

⁴For example, Rousseau argues that sovereign authorities only gain their authority from the general will and that when the people are displeased by a law, they can dissolve and reconstitute the existing sovereign and its laws. The distanced formulation “I don’t much care for your rules” is meaningless in such a government. Indeed, most social contract theorists articulate answers to the question of individual disagreement with societal laws. For instance, one can construct a defensible reading of Locke’s Second Treatise on Government that says it is entirely possible and acceptable for people to remain outside a government they have no interest in joining. “This [forming a civil society] any number of Men may do, because it injures not the Freedom of the rest; they are left as they were in the Liberty of the State of Nature” (John Locke. Two Treatises of Government. Ed. Peter Laslett. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989: 331). However, a further extension of this kind of critique is rendered largely unnecessary by the internal contradictions in Leeson’s work.

⁵Leeson is apparently condoning torture as an acceptable form of justice. Although my present critique is deliberately analytical, not normative in orientation, it is worth noting how Leeson’s application of rational choice theory positions piracy as outside the realm of ethical judgment.

Salayan sailors and Somali swashbucklers

While there have been several news and human interest stories about US and European victims of piracy -- and several articles about the Somali pirates themselves -- the perspective of non-Western victims of piracy has not received the same level of coverage. However, the BBC has a radio report here about the plight of one Gujarati community whose maritime economy is being impacted by Somali pirate attacks, offering a more poignant perspective on the impact of piracy than that of higher insurance premiums and multi-million dollar ransom payments from large shipping companies.

An alarming amount of our project can be illustrated using Dinosaur Comics

http://www.qwantz.com/index.php?comic=209

Debatable indeed.

Anti-whaling pirates

Whales and whaling seem to have worked their way into our project in a variety of subtle ways this summer, beginning back in May with our theory and methodology reading, when we read Charlotte Epstein's The Power of Words in International Relations: The Birth of an Anti-Whaling Discourse. This book is not only an excellent example of how to conduct a discourse analysis in International Relations, but also examines what James Rosenau would call a "genuine puzzle": how the anti-whaling discourse became dominant and created normative changes that then made certain national and international policies possible.

We ran into whales again in Mystic Seaport (after we had finished our time in the archives) where we watched a video on whaling practices explained through passages from Moby Dick (a significant work in the construction of the anti-whaling discourse for the way in which its representation of whales creates a distance between actual whales out in the ocean and the whale in the story -- a narrative reappropriated by anti-whaling activists) and handled a bronze whaling gun:
However, perhaps the most interesting pirate-whaling link we've come across has been the appropriation of pirate imagery and identity by the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society, the organization featured in Animal Planet's popular show Whale Wars (a connection we found out about from this Foreign Policy photo essay). Apparently some members of this society have taken it upon themselves to harass Japanese whaling vessels which they believe to be whaling for commercial rather than research purposes (though they would clearly object to the latter as well). This show is of note, first of all, for the extent to which it vividly illustrates Epstein's thesis about the "real-world" power of the anti-whaling discourse and the construction of (disputed) political space for non-governmental environmental actors. It's hard to see the same show being made with another environmental discourse (I can't see the Environmental Liberation Front's burning down of a Colorado ski lodge to save lynx habitat mobilizing quite the same level of enthusiasm), and even more challenging to envision a non-environmental non-state illegal group garnering such wide-spread popularity.

But, an even more interesting twist (at least from the standpoint of our research), involves the deliberate appropriation of the pirate identity by the Sea Shepherds. Faced with accusations of piracy by Japanese whalers, Sea Shepherd Captain Paul Watson asserted his pride in being a "pirate of compassion" in an op-ed published in the Guardian. The op-ed is worth reading in full, but several points jump out.

First, Watson deploys the "pirate as (national) hero" commonplace that enjoyed great popularity in the early 18th century with English descriptions of Captain Morgan and again in the early to mid 19th century in American representations of John Paul Jones and, later, Jean Lafitte. Indeed, these are the pirate heroes that Watson cites:

At least proper piracy has a long list of renowned and admirable practitioners: John Paul Jones, who founded the navies of both the US and Russia; Jean LaFitte, who stood with General Andrew Jackson in defence of New Orleans; and Sir Francis Drake and Sir Walter Raleigh, knighted by Elizabeth I. I stand in honourable company as a modern-day pirate, though I've not shot anyone, burned any ships, looted any cargos or kidnapped anyone.

Watson's grasp on history is tenuous (he denies the British Navy had anything to do with the suppression of 18th century Caribbean piracy, attributing it instead to Henry Morgan), but his strategic deployment of the same pirate-legitimating commonplaces used centuries ago is quite interesting to observe.

Second, having made note of the pirate imagery used by the Sea Shepherd and Whale Wars, I was intrigued to read about both the deliberately defiant way in which it was deployed and also the popular appeal it lent to the Sea Shepherd's controversial cause:

My ship, the Steve Irwin, does fly a modern version of the Jolie Rouge, the original name of the banner that evolved into the skull and crossbones of the Jolly Roger. We decided years ago that if people were going to call us pirates, we would adopt our own version, and designed the crossed Neptune trident and shepherd's staff with the skull.

As soon as we hoisted that black flag, kids from around the world began to write to us in support. Our Jolly Roger hats and shirts have become our most popular merchandise. Why? Because there is a romance associated with piracy that is separate from the reality. Some pirates were noble heroes and some were dastardly villains. It's all a matter of perspective. If you love whales, we be heroes; but if you eat whales then we be pirates.

Finally, the introductory paragraphs of Watson's op-ed suggest he is aware of just how persuasive the popular imagery and language of pirates can be in summoning up enthusiasm:

Shiver me timbers, boys and girls, we is awash in a sea of pirates down here in the Southern Ocean and it's time for a parley to do a little 'splaining on the subject. This ocean now rivals the 17th century Caribbean for reported acts of piracy. The only thing lacking is the Sea Shepherd member Orlando Bloom.

Japanese whalers are accusing the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society and Greenpeace crew members of being pirates. Sea Shepherd and Greenpeace are accusing the whalers of being pirates. The whalers and Greenpeace are accusing Sea Shepherd of being pirates. The Japanese government is throwing the word piracy about as freely as the governor of Jamaica once did.

No one has sunk any ships, looted any cargos, kidnapped any damsels (just a couple of blokes) or forced anyone to walk the plank yet - but listening to the rhetoric, the public could be forgiven from thinking these activities are ravaging the Southern main.

That the deployment of pirate rhetoric is being used to legitimate (some) illegal non-state actions in the 21st century is a striking illustration of the extent to which the pirate discourse has shifted throughout history. That the deployment of the same word -- and some of the same commonplaces -- would, at the exact same time, be used to delegitimate other illegal non-state practices (most notably Somali piracy) indicates that, like Epstein, we too have an IR maritime puzzle to explain.

(Photo from: http://www.melbourne.indymedia.org/uploads/sea_shepherd_in_hobart_dec_06.jpg)

Pirates of the Baltic?

While some are looking back to the Barbary Wars to make sense of the Somali pirate attacks, the tempting parallel for recent events in the Baltic Sea dates back to the Viking Age. According to Bloomberg, the Arctic Sea, a Finnish cargo vessel carrying a shipment of wood from Finland to Algeria, was hijacked in the Baltic Sea on 24 July. The crew was tied up and beaten while the pirates searched the ship, though it is not clear if they what they were looking for:

The Arctic Sea was en route to Algeria from Finland with timber when it was boarded between the Swedish islands of Oeland and Gotland in the Baltic Sea on July 24 by the group who identified themselves as police officers, Swedish police said in a statement today. The ship is owned by Oy Solchart Management AB, sails under Maltese flag, and has a crew of 15 Russians.

Sweden has provided warships and soldiers to the European Union’s anti-piracy operation, Atalanta, in the Gulf of Aden. Pirates have attacked vessels off the coast of Somalia 130 times so far this year, with 28 ships seized, the U.S. Navy has said.

Incidents like the detention in the Baltic Sea have never happened “in my life,” Victor Matveev, chief executive officer of Solchart, said in a telephone interview from Helsinki today.

“We’ve operated this vessel for many, many years on a consecutive voyage basis between Finland and the Mediterranean, and this is more than disturbing,” Matveev said. “All the crew members have been working for our company for several years, they’re professional, well educated, and there are no newcomers. It makes us wonder what happened.”

Monsters and Critics has a bit more detail:

According to the ship's 15-member Russian crew, the armed men claimed to be drug enforcement agents and thoroughly searched the ship, reacting violently to anyone who got in their way, including using a rifle butt to knock out teeth from one crew member. The ship was held for 12 hours before the hijackers men left again without taking anything. Investigators speculated that the 'pirates' may have actually been a drugs gang that was acting on a tip to search for contraband.

Meanwhile, in the Gulf of Aden, Somali pirates released a German ship, the Hansa Stavanger, and its 24-man crew after receiving $2.7 million in ransom from the owners. On Monday, a Malaysian-owned tugboat was also released.

Captain Blood .... in Space!

We've been meandering our way through some famous pirate movies of the early 20th century this summer (since the pirate discourse shifted to the silver screen from the 1920s onward) and one of the less interesting pirate movies we've watched has been Captain Blood. Although it held great promise, what with the dashing charms of Errol Flynn, the background of the Monmouth Rebellion, a man named Blood, and swashbuckling on the high seas, it was actually marked only by the quicksilver shifting of the protagonists' motivations and character, the incomprehensibility of the plot, and a grand total of one somewhat lackluster sword fight. (Please note this is not a sneering condemnation of old movies held up against the glittering, CGI-enhanced jewel of Pirates of the Caribbean; The Black Pirate from 1926 was an infinitely more exciting film with several way-cool sword fights.)

However, in complete disregard for my lousy review, it turns out that Warner Brothers are playing to remake Captain Blood ... by setting it in outer space! Producer Bill Gerber explains:

"When it comes to swashbuckling, you just couldn't go back to the pirate era, not once you've experienced the juggernaut that is 'Pirates of the Caribbean,' '' he explains. "So we needed to find a new way to tell the story."

For Gerber, the best option was not a present-day story involving the Somali pirates -- who are probably too vile and desperate to base an entertainment around -- but a story set a couple of hundred years in the future. "It's still the classic 'Captain Blood' storyline: Peter Blood has been wronged by the powers-that-be and he wants to get even. But the best way to recreate that is by putting it in space, where you can have a totalitarian style of government that's actually pretty similar to what England was like in the 17th century."

This is some pretty informative commentary, as it notes both the shifts that happened in contemporary pirate discourse that accompanied Pirates of the Caribbean as well as the Somali pirate attacks. And while I'm a bit skeptical of sword fights in outer space, there's precedent for space pirates and Geoff Boucher imagines a "live-action version of the Disney film Treasure Planet" which was sort of ok. Ultimately, there's no doubt that, far from being "a partnership that never should have begun," the new Captain Blood has the potential for great box office success, bringing together as it does three of America's favorite things to watch on screen: space, pirates, and (if this LA Times blogger has his way) Robert Pattinson.

Here, for your entertainment, is the swashbuckling scene from the 1935 Captain Blood (skip ahead to 3:44):