U.S. Energy Firms Rewarded With Tax Deferrals
The peculiar reverence for O’Brien, which nothing seemed able to destroy, flooded Winston’s heart again. How intelligent, he thought, how intelligent! Never did O’Brien fail to understand what was said to him. Anyone else on earth would have answered promptly that he HAD betrayed Julia. For what was there that they had not screwed out of him under the torture? He had told them everything he knew about her, her habits, her character, her past life; he had confessed in the most trivial detail everything that had happened at their meetings, all that he had said to her and she to him, their black-market meals, their adulteries, their vague plottings against the Party----everything. And yet, in the sense in which he intended the word, he had not betrayed her. He had not stopped loving her; his feelings towards her had remained the same. O’Brien had seen what he meant without the need for explanation.
The U.S. energy boom is producing a little-noticed side effect: American oil and gas companies are paying less in federal income taxes.
"Tell me," he said, "how soon will they shoot me?"
Energy companies are spending billions of dollars a year to drill in shale formations across the country, sending the nation's daily oil output up by almost 50% in just the past few years. Techniques like hydraulic fracturing and horizontal drilling, which make it possible to tap petroleum in these new fields, make each well cost millions of dollars.
"It might be a long time," said O’Brien. "You are a difficult case. But don’t give up hope. Everyone is cured sooner or later. In the end we shall shoot you."
All that spending has allowed drillers to take advantage of incentives in the tax code for drilling and capital expenditures, deferring billions of dollars in income tax.
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
July 30, 2014.
Movie Film, at Death's Door, Gets a Reprieve
Winston had stopped weeping, though the tears were still oozing out of his eyes. He looked up at O’Brien.
Faced with the possible extinction of the material that made Hollywood famous, a coalition of studios is close to a deal to keep Eastman Kodak Co. KODK -2.97% in the business of producing movie film.
"I have not betrayed Julia," he said.
The negotiations----secret until now----are expected to result in an arrangement where studios promise to buy a set quantity of film for the next several years, even though most movies and television shows these days are shot on digital video.
O’Brien looked down at him thoughtfully. "No," he said; "no; that is perfectly true. You have not betrayed Julia."
Kodak's new chief executive, Jeff Clarke, said the pact will allow his company to forestall the closure of its Rochester, N.Y., film manufacturing plant, a move that had been under serious consideration. Kodak's motion-picture film sales have plummeted 96% since 2006, from 12.4 billion linear feet to an estimated 449 million this year. With the exit of competitor Fujifilm Corp. last year, Kodak is the only major company left producing motion-picture film.
Winston had stopped weeping, though the tears were still oozing out of his eyes. He looked up at O’Brien.
Faced with the possible extinction of the material that made Hollywood famous, a coalition of studios is close to a deal to keep Eastman Kodak Co. KODK -2.97% in the business of producing movie film.
"I have not betrayed Julia," he said.
The negotiations----secret until now----are expected to result in an arrangement where studios promise to buy a set quantity of film for the next several years, even though most movies and television shows these days are shot on digital video.
O’Brien looked down at him thoughtfully. "No," he said; "no; that is perfectly true. You have not betrayed Julia."
Kodak's new chief executive, Jeff Clarke, said the pact will allow his company to forestall the closure of its Rochester, N.Y., film manufacturing plant, a move that had been under serious consideration. Kodak's motion-picture film sales have plummeted 96% since 2006, from 12.4 billion linear feet to an estimated 449 million this year. With the exit of competitor Fujifilm Corp. last year, Kodak is the only major company left producing motion-picture film.
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
July 29, 2014.
To Unplug on Vacation, Your Own Tech Can Help
"No, Winston, you reduced yourself to it. This is what you accepted when you set yourself up against the Party. It was all contained in that first act. Nothing has happened that you did not foresee."
I wanted to write this column over my vacation last week, but my laptop stopped me. "Your time is up," it flashed after 30 minutes online. Begrudgingly I closed the lid, sipped my coffee, looked out at the sailboats on the ocean, then opened a real printed paperback book. I was having a tech timeout.
He paused, and then went on:
I've never been good at unplugging----not from work, not from social media, not from any screen. Of course, I've heard the advice: Disconnecting is good for the mind, body and soul. Yes, but in my guide to Zen, so is aimlessly scrolling through Twitter TWTR +1.74% and Instagram and having zero unread emails.
"We have beaten you, Winston. We have broken you up. You have seen what your body is like. Your mind is in the same state. I do not think there can be much pride left in you. You have been kicked and flogged and insulted, you have screamed with pain, you have rolled on the floor in your own blood and vomit. You have whimpered for mercy, you have betrayed everybody and everything. Can you think of a single degradation that has not happened to you?"
This summer I vowed to myself and my family to spend more of my vacation and weekend time with the screens off. I didn't promise to go cold turkey. Our phones are so core to our personal lives, that almost seems impossible. Instead, ironically, the best way I found to control myself and my screen time was to use the devices I was trying to take a break from.
"No, Winston, you reduced yourself to it. This is what you accepted when you set yourself up against the Party. It was all contained in that first act. Nothing has happened that you did not foresee."
I wanted to write this column over my vacation last week, but my laptop stopped me. "Your time is up," it flashed after 30 minutes online. Begrudgingly I closed the lid, sipped my coffee, looked out at the sailboats on the ocean, then opened a real printed paperback book. I was having a tech timeout.
He paused, and then went on:
I've never been good at unplugging----not from work, not from social media, not from any screen. Of course, I've heard the advice: Disconnecting is good for the mind, body and soul. Yes, but in my guide to Zen, so is aimlessly scrolling through Twitter TWTR +1.74% and Instagram and having zero unread emails.
"We have beaten you, Winston. We have broken you up. You have seen what your body is like. Your mind is in the same state. I do not think there can be much pride left in you. You have been kicked and flogged and insulted, you have screamed with pain, you have rolled on the floor in your own blood and vomit. You have whimpered for mercy, you have betrayed everybody and everything. Can you think of a single degradation that has not happened to you?"
This summer I vowed to myself and my family to spend more of my vacation and weekend time with the screens off. I didn't promise to go cold turkey. Our phones are so core to our personal lives, that almost seems impossible. Instead, ironically, the best way I found to control myself and my screen time was to use the devices I was trying to take a break from.
Monday, July 28, 2014
July 28, 2014.
In Argentina, Mix of Money and Politics Stirs Intrigue Around Kirchner
Winston began to dress himself with slow stiff movements. Until now he had not seemed to notice how thin and weak he was. Only one thought stirred in his mind: that he must have been in this place longer than he had imagined. Then suddenly as he fixed the miserable rags round himself a feeling of pity for his ruined body overcame him. Before he knew what he was doing he had collapsed on to a small stool that stood beside the bed and burst into tears. He was aware of his ugliness, his gracelessness, a bundle of bones in filthy underclothes sitting weeping in the harsh white light: but he could not stop himself. O’Brien laid a hand on his shoulder, almost kindly.
RIO GALLEGOS, Argentina----During the 11 years that Argentine President Cristina Kirchner and her husband Néstor Kirchner have dominated national politics, they accumulated a small fortune.
"It will not last for ever," he said. "You can escape from it whenever you choose. Everything depends on yourself."
Between 2003, when Mr. Kirchner was elected president, and 2010, when he died, the couple's net worth rose from $2.5 million to $17.7 million, according to their annual filings with the federal anticorruption office. A lot of people in Argentina want to know where that money came from.
"You did it!" sobbed Winston. "You reduced me to this state."
A string of judicial inquiries have roiled national politics by calling attention to the business dealings of top politicians and their associates. In late June, Vice President Amado Boudou was indicted on a charge of bribery and influence peddling related to the takeover of a bankrupt money-printing firm. A former transportation secretary was indicted in April on charges of illicit enrichment. Both have denied wrongdoing. Two years ago, a former economy minister was convicted of obstructing an investigation into a bag of cash found in her office bathroom.
Winston began to dress himself with slow stiff movements. Until now he had not seemed to notice how thin and weak he was. Only one thought stirred in his mind: that he must have been in this place longer than he had imagined. Then suddenly as he fixed the miserable rags round himself a feeling of pity for his ruined body overcame him. Before he knew what he was doing he had collapsed on to a small stool that stood beside the bed and burst into tears. He was aware of his ugliness, his gracelessness, a bundle of bones in filthy underclothes sitting weeping in the harsh white light: but he could not stop himself. O’Brien laid a hand on his shoulder, almost kindly.
RIO GALLEGOS, Argentina----During the 11 years that Argentine President Cristina Kirchner and her husband Néstor Kirchner have dominated national politics, they accumulated a small fortune.
"It will not last for ever," he said. "You can escape from it whenever you choose. Everything depends on yourself."
Between 2003, when Mr. Kirchner was elected president, and 2010, when he died, the couple's net worth rose from $2.5 million to $17.7 million, according to their annual filings with the federal anticorruption office. A lot of people in Argentina want to know where that money came from.
"You did it!" sobbed Winston. "You reduced me to this state."
A string of judicial inquiries have roiled national politics by calling attention to the business dealings of top politicians and their associates. In late June, Vice President Amado Boudou was indicted on a charge of bribery and influence peddling related to the takeover of a bankrupt money-printing firm. A former transportation secretary was indicted in April on charges of illicit enrichment. Both have denied wrongdoing. Two years ago, a former economy minister was convicted of obstructing an investigation into a bag of cash found in her office bathroom.
Sunday, July 27, 2014
July 27, 2014.
How the U.S. Stumbled Into the Drone Era
"Look at the condition you are in!" he said. "Look at this filthy grime all over your body. Look at the dirt between your toes. Look at that disgusting running sore on your leg. Do you know that you stink like a goat? Probably you have ceased to notice it. Look at your emaciation. Do you see? I can make my thumb and forefinger meet round your bicep. I could snap your neck like a carrot. Do you know that you have lost twenty-five kilograms since you have been in our hands? Even your hair is coming out in handfuls. Look!" He plucked at Winston’s head and brought away a tuft of hair. "Open your mouth. Nine, ten, eleven teeth left. How many had you when you came to us? And the few you have left are dropping out of your head. Look here!"
On Sept. 7, 2000, in the waning days of the Clinton administration, a U.S. Predator drone flew over Afghanistan for the first time. The unmanned, unarmed plane buzzed over Tarnak Farms, a major al Qaeda camp. When U.S. analysts later pored over video footage from this maiden voyage, they were struck by the image of a commandingly tall man clad in white robes. CIA analysts later concluded that he was Osama bin Laden.
He seized one of Winston’s remaining front teeth between his powerful thumb and forefinger. A twinge of pain shot through Winston’s jaw. O’Brien had wrenched the loose tooth out by the roots. He tossed it across the cell.
From that first mission, the drone program has grown into perhaps the most prominent instrument of U.S. counterterrorism policy—and, for many in the Muslim world, a synonym for American callousness and arrogance. The U.S. has used drones to support ground troops in Iraq and Afghanistan and, particularly under President Barack Obama, to hammer the high command of al Qaeda. A recent study by the Stimson Center, a think tank in Washington, D.C., estimates that U.S. drone strikes in Pakistan have killed 2,000 to 4,000 people. Other countries are trying to get into the act, including Iran, which U.S. officials say has flown drones over Iraq during the current crisis there.
"You are rotting away," he said; "you are falling to pieces. What are you? A bag of filth. Now turn around and look into that mirror again. Do you see that thing facing you? That is the last man. If you are human, that is humanity. Now put your clothes on again."
Drones seem to be everywhere these days, buzzing into civilian life and even pop culture. French players complained before the World Cup that a mysterious drone-borne camera had spied on their training sessions. Amazon owner Jeff Bezos hopes to use drones for faster home delivery. Tom Cruise starred last summer as a futuristic drone repairman in the sci-fi thriller "Oblivion," and Captain America himself faced down lethal super-drones in this spring's "The Winter Soldier." Hollywood is even using drones in real life, helping to film such tricky scenes as the chase early in the 2012 James Bond caper "Skyfall," when Daniel Craig as 007 races across the rooftops of Istanbul.
"Look at the condition you are in!" he said. "Look at this filthy grime all over your body. Look at the dirt between your toes. Look at that disgusting running sore on your leg. Do you know that you stink like a goat? Probably you have ceased to notice it. Look at your emaciation. Do you see? I can make my thumb and forefinger meet round your bicep. I could snap your neck like a carrot. Do you know that you have lost twenty-five kilograms since you have been in our hands? Even your hair is coming out in handfuls. Look!" He plucked at Winston’s head and brought away a tuft of hair. "Open your mouth. Nine, ten, eleven teeth left. How many had you when you came to us? And the few you have left are dropping out of your head. Look here!"
On Sept. 7, 2000, in the waning days of the Clinton administration, a U.S. Predator drone flew over Afghanistan for the first time. The unmanned, unarmed plane buzzed over Tarnak Farms, a major al Qaeda camp. When U.S. analysts later pored over video footage from this maiden voyage, they were struck by the image of a commandingly tall man clad in white robes. CIA analysts later concluded that he was Osama bin Laden.
He seized one of Winston’s remaining front teeth between his powerful thumb and forefinger. A twinge of pain shot through Winston’s jaw. O’Brien had wrenched the loose tooth out by the roots. He tossed it across the cell.
From that first mission, the drone program has grown into perhaps the most prominent instrument of U.S. counterterrorism policy—and, for many in the Muslim world, a synonym for American callousness and arrogance. The U.S. has used drones to support ground troops in Iraq and Afghanistan and, particularly under President Barack Obama, to hammer the high command of al Qaeda. A recent study by the Stimson Center, a think tank in Washington, D.C., estimates that U.S. drone strikes in Pakistan have killed 2,000 to 4,000 people. Other countries are trying to get into the act, including Iran, which U.S. officials say has flown drones over Iraq during the current crisis there.
"You are rotting away," he said; "you are falling to pieces. What are you? A bag of filth. Now turn around and look into that mirror again. Do you see that thing facing you? That is the last man. If you are human, that is humanity. Now put your clothes on again."
Drones seem to be everywhere these days, buzzing into civilian life and even pop culture. French players complained before the World Cup that a mysterious drone-borne camera had spied on their training sessions. Amazon owner Jeff Bezos hopes to use drones for faster home delivery. Tom Cruise starred last summer as a futuristic drone repairman in the sci-fi thriller "Oblivion," and Captain America himself faced down lethal super-drones in this spring's "The Winter Soldier." Hollywood is even using drones in real life, helping to film such tricky scenes as the chase early in the 2012 James Bond caper "Skyfall," when Daniel Craig as 007 races across the rooftops of Istanbul.
Saturday, July 26, 2014
July 26, 2014.
Smart Aid for the World's Poor
He had stopped because he was frightened. A bowed, grey-coloured, skeleton-like thing was coming towards him. Its actual appearance was frightening, and not merely the fact that he knew it to be himself. He moved closer to the glass. The creature’s face seemed to be protruded, because of its bent carriage. A forlorn, jailbird’s face with a nobby forehead running back into a bald scalp, a crooked nose, and battered-looking cheekbones above which his eyes were fierce and watchful. The cheeks were seamed, the mouth had a drawn-in look. Certainly it was his own face, but it seemed to him that it had changed more than he had changed inside. The emotions it registered would be different from the ones he felt. He had gone partially bald. For the first moment he had thought that he had gone grey as well, but it was only the scalp that was grey. Except for his hands and a circle of his face, his body was grey all over with ancient, ingrained dirt. Here and there under the dirt there were the red scars of wounds, and near the ankle the varicose ulcer was an inflamed mass with flakes of skin peeling off it. But the truly frightening thing was the emaciation of his body. The barrel of the ribs was as narrow as that of a skeleton: the legs had shrunk so that the knees were thicker than the thighs. He saw now what O’Brien had meant about seeing the side view. The curvature of the spine was astonishing. The thin shoulders were hunched forward so as to make a cavity of the chest, the scraggy neck seemed to be bending double under the weight of the skull. At a guess he would have said that it was the body of a man of sixty, suffering from some malignant disease.
In September next year, the United Nations plans to choose a list of development goals for the world to meet by the year 2030. What aspirations should it set for this global campaign to improve the lot of the poor, and how should it choose them?
"You have thought sometimes,’ said O’Brien, ‘that my face----the face of a member of the Inner Party----looks old and worn. What do you think of your own face?"
In answering that question, U.N. Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon and his advisers are confronted with a task that they often avoid: setting priorities. It is no good saying that we would like peace and prosperity to reach every corner of the world. And it is no good listing hundreds of targets. Money for foreign aid, though munificent, is limited. What are the things that matter most, and what would be nice to achieve but matter less?
He seized Winston’s shoulder and spun him round so that he was facing him.
The origin of this quest for global priorities goes back to 2000, when Mr. Ban's predecessor, Kofi Annan, picked a set of "Millennium Development Goals," eight challenges to be met by 2015, which were adopted by world leaders. Although some of these goals were woolly, the very brevity of the list and the deadline itself meant that they really did catch the world's imagination and force the aid industry to be more selective.
He had stopped because he was frightened. A bowed, grey-coloured, skeleton-like thing was coming towards him. Its actual appearance was frightening, and not merely the fact that he knew it to be himself. He moved closer to the glass. The creature’s face seemed to be protruded, because of its bent carriage. A forlorn, jailbird’s face with a nobby forehead running back into a bald scalp, a crooked nose, and battered-looking cheekbones above which his eyes were fierce and watchful. The cheeks were seamed, the mouth had a drawn-in look. Certainly it was his own face, but it seemed to him that it had changed more than he had changed inside. The emotions it registered would be different from the ones he felt. He had gone partially bald. For the first moment he had thought that he had gone grey as well, but it was only the scalp that was grey. Except for his hands and a circle of his face, his body was grey all over with ancient, ingrained dirt. Here and there under the dirt there were the red scars of wounds, and near the ankle the varicose ulcer was an inflamed mass with flakes of skin peeling off it. But the truly frightening thing was the emaciation of his body. The barrel of the ribs was as narrow as that of a skeleton: the legs had shrunk so that the knees were thicker than the thighs. He saw now what O’Brien had meant about seeing the side view. The curvature of the spine was astonishing. The thin shoulders were hunched forward so as to make a cavity of the chest, the scraggy neck seemed to be bending double under the weight of the skull. At a guess he would have said that it was the body of a man of sixty, suffering from some malignant disease.
In September next year, the United Nations plans to choose a list of development goals for the world to meet by the year 2030. What aspirations should it set for this global campaign to improve the lot of the poor, and how should it choose them?
"You have thought sometimes,’ said O’Brien, ‘that my face----the face of a member of the Inner Party----looks old and worn. What do you think of your own face?"
In answering that question, U.N. Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon and his advisers are confronted with a task that they often avoid: setting priorities. It is no good saying that we would like peace and prosperity to reach every corner of the world. And it is no good listing hundreds of targets. Money for foreign aid, though munificent, is limited. What are the things that matter most, and what would be nice to achieve but matter less?
He seized Winston’s shoulder and spun him round so that he was facing him.
The origin of this quest for global priorities goes back to 2000, when Mr. Ban's predecessor, Kofi Annan, picked a set of "Millennium Development Goals," eight challenges to be met by 2015, which were adopted by world leaders. Although some of these goals were woolly, the very brevity of the list and the deadline itself meant that they really did catch the world's imagination and force the aid industry to be more selective.
Friday, July 25, 2014
July 25, 2014.
After Flight 17 Crash, Agony, Debris and Heartbreak in Ukraine Villages
"You are the last man," said O’Brien. "You are the guardian of the human spirit. You shall see yourself as you are. Take off your clothes."
PETROPAVLIVKA, Ukraine----Even before Malaysia Airlines 3786.KU -2.22% Flight 17 was shot down, the war raging between Ukraine and pro-Russia rebels created crushing challenges for the mayor of this small, worn-down village.
Winston undid the bit of string that held his overalls together. The zip fastener had long since been wrenched out of them. He could not remember whether at any time since his arrest he had taken off all his clothes at one time. Beneath the overalls his body was looped with filthy yellowish rags, just recognizable as the remnants of underclothes. As he slid them to the ground he saw that there was a three-sided mirror at the far end of the room. He approached it, then stopped short. An involuntary cry had broken out of him.
Natalya Voloshina couldn't pay municipal salaries, pensions or energy bills because money from the central government in Kiev was frozen. The coal mine where her husband and high-school sweetheart works largely shut down. The fighting was creeping closer.
"Go on," said O’Brien. "Stand between the wings of the mirror. You shall see the side view as well."
Then the plane crashed. The second-row cabin's overhead compartment is in a tree across from the village hall----and suitcases and clothes are in backyards and gardens of square-windowed cottages.
"You are the last man," said O’Brien. "You are the guardian of the human spirit. You shall see yourself as you are. Take off your clothes."
PETROPAVLIVKA, Ukraine----Even before Malaysia Airlines 3786.KU -2.22% Flight 17 was shot down, the war raging between Ukraine and pro-Russia rebels created crushing challenges for the mayor of this small, worn-down village.
Winston undid the bit of string that held his overalls together. The zip fastener had long since been wrenched out of them. He could not remember whether at any time since his arrest he had taken off all his clothes at one time. Beneath the overalls his body was looped with filthy yellowish rags, just recognizable as the remnants of underclothes. As he slid them to the ground he saw that there was a three-sided mirror at the far end of the room. He approached it, then stopped short. An involuntary cry had broken out of him.
Natalya Voloshina couldn't pay municipal salaries, pensions or energy bills because money from the central government in Kiev was frozen. The coal mine where her husband and high-school sweetheart works largely shut down. The fighting was creeping closer.
"Go on," said O’Brien. "Stand between the wings of the mirror. You shall see the side view as well."
Then the plane crashed. The second-row cabin's overhead compartment is in a tree across from the village hall----and suitcases and clothes are in backyards and gardens of square-windowed cottages.
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