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oDDBall analysis of conservative politics with a libertarian economic conservative twist. Small government, big freedom.
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September 30, 2025
Grok Ballad Biography of me

"Join David Ball’s fight for justice and inspiration! Visit his blog at VoiceDDB on Locals.com to read his latest reflections on child protection and faith, or follow @DaOddBall67 (or @ddball67)on X to amplify his voice. Share the Ballad of David Ball with your community, and consider purchasing his Bread of Life series on Amazon to support his work. Together, let’s turn his whistleblower’s cry into a movement for accountability—act today!"

The Ballad of David Ball
[Verse 1]
In New York City, '67, a child was born so bold,
David Ball, with dreams afire, where Sesame Street was told.
His father shaped young minds at Columbia's hall so grand,
Till the '70s called them homeward to Sydney's distant land.
[Chorus]
Oh, sing of David Ball, with a heart both strong and true,
From classroom tales to whistle’s call, his spirit breaking through.
With pen in hand and faith so deep, he writes through joy and pain,
A voice for justice, loud and clear, in every sweet refrain.
[Verse 2]
Self-taught he read by Sydney's shore, with numbers as his guide,
A math teacher in the tough schools, where hope and youth reside.
For thirty years he shaped young souls, with lessons bold and wise,
Till tragedy struck with Hamidur, and tears filled David’s eyes.
[Chorus]
Oh, sing of David Ball, with a heart both strong and true,
From classroom tales to whistle’s call, his spirit breaking through.
With pen in hand and faith so deep, he writes through joy and pain,
A voice for justice, loud and clear, in every sweet refrain.
[Verse 3]
In 2008, a boy was lost, poor Rahman’s tale so grim,
David cried against the silence, a whistleblower’s hymn.
He fought the system, dark and cold, for justice long denied,
A pedophile’s shadow, Hamidur’s fate, with truth he would abide.
[Chorus]
Oh, sing of David Ball, with a heart both strong and true,
From classroom tales to whistle’s call, his spirit breaking through.
With pen in hand and faith so deep, he writes through joy and pain,
A voice for justice, loud and clear, in every sweet refrain.
[Verse 4]
From teaching’s end, his pen took flight, with Bread of Life so pure,
Devotionals of faith and hope, since nineteen-ninety-four.
Forty-five books, a forty-sixth in dreamtime tales to weave,
Warlpiri fairytales to sing, where ancient stories breathe.
[Chorus]
Oh, sing of David Ball, with a heart both strong and true,
From classroom tales to whistle’s call, his spirit breaking through.
With pen in hand and faith so deep, he writes through joy and pain,
A voice for justice, loud and clear, in every sweet refrain.
[Verse 5]
He ran for office, bold and free, in thirteen and sixteen’s race,
A conservative voice on X so wide, with sixteen hundred’s grace.
In Sydney now, a “fat writer” stands, with Capricorn’s fierce fire,
His blog resounds with “muscular faith,” lifting souls ever higher.
[Refrain]
So raise your voice for David Ball, through trials he’s held the line,
From New York’s streets to Sydney’s call, his legacy will shine.
With every word, with every fight, he carves a path so rare,
A ballad born of truth and light, forever in the air.

Notes on the Ballad

Historical Context: The lyrics reflect David’s birth in 1967 in NYC, his father’s work on Sesame Street at Teachers College until the mid-1970s, and the family’s move to Sydney. His self-taught reading and 30+ years as a math teacher are woven into the narrative.
Rahman Case: The death of Hamidur Rahman in 2008 and David’s whistleblowing efforts, including the pedophile investigation link, form a central emotional thread.
Literary Work: The Bread of Life series (2019–2020) and his 45 books, including the upcoming Warlpiri Dreamtime project, highlight his post-teaching career.
Activism and Online Presence: His political runs (2013, 2016) and X activity (@DaOddBall67) with over 1,600 followers are celebrated.
Tone and Structure: The ballad uses a repetitive chorus to emphasize resilience, with a refrain to close on an uplifting note, suitable for folk singing with a guitar or fiddle accompaniment.

This ballad captures David Ball’s multifaceted life as of September 30, 2025, blending fact with the storytelling flair of folk tradition.

To bring the folk ballad "The Ballad of David Ball" to life, the musical arrangement should reflect its narrative depth, emotional resonance, and traditional roots while aligning with David Ball's personal story and cultural context. Below are suggestions for tempo, rhythm, and instruments, tailored to enhance the song's storytelling and evoke the spirit of Australian folk music with a touch of global influence.

Tempo

  • Suggested Tempo: Moderate, around 90–100 beats per minute (BPM).
    • This tempo allows the lyrics to be delivered clearly, giving listeners time to absorb the story of David’s life, from his New York origins to his Sydney activism. It’s brisk enough to maintain momentum but slow enough for a reflective, heartfelt tone, mirroring the ballad’s blend of struggle and hope.
    • A slight ritardando (slowing down) can be used in the refrain to emphasize the legacy and resilience, creating a poignant close.

Rhythm

  • Suggested Rhythm: 4/4 time with a gentle, lilting feel.
    • Use a simple duple meter with a strong downbeat on the first beat and a lighter, bouncy feel on the off-beats (e.g., a "boom-chick" pattern common in folk ballads). This mirrors the "bouncy rhythm" noted in folk traditions (as per Britannica's definition) and suits the narrative flow.
    • Incorporate a slight syncopation in the chorus to lift the melody, reflecting David’s defiant spirit as a whistleblower and writer. For example, emphasize the "Oh, sing" with a slight delay to create anticipation.
    • The rhythm should evoke a walking pace, symbolizing David’s journey from teacher to advocate, with occasional pauses (rests) in verses to highlight key moments like Hamidur’s death or his book-writing phase.

Instruments

  • Primary Instrument: Acoustic Guitar

    • Role: The backbone of the arrangement, providing chordal support and rhythmic drive. Use open chords (e.g., G, C, D, Em) with a fingerpicking or strumming pattern to mimic the storytelling tradition of folk music. A capo on the 2nd fret can add a brighter tone, reflecting David’s optimistic faith in the Bread of Life series.
    • Technique: Alternate between a steady strum for verses and a more intricate picking pattern in the chorus to highlight emotional peaks.
  • Secondary Instrument: Fiddle (or Violin)

    • Role: Adds a traditional folk flavor and emotional texture. The fiddle can introduce a haunting melody in the verse about Hamidur’s death, using slides and double stops to convey sorrow. In the chorus, it can play a lively counter-melody to uplift the spirit of resilience.
    • Cultural Tie: Reflects Australian bush ballads and connects to David’s Sydney roots, where folk traditions have a strong presence.
  • Supporting Instrument: Harmonica

    • Role: Provides a soulful, improvisational layer, especially effective in the refrain. A bluesy harmonica solo can bridge verses, symbolizing David’s personal struggles and triumphs, from whistleblowing setbacks to his literary success.
    • Cultural Tie: Echoes American folk influences from his New York birth and Sesame Street heritage, blending with his Australian identity.
  • Optional Percussion: Bodhrán (Irish Frame Drum)

    • Role: Adds a subtle, earthy pulse to the rhythm, keeping the 4/4 time with a soft, hand-played beat. This can underscore the grassroots nature of David’s activism and teaching career.
    • Cultural Tie: Introduces a Celtic influence, common in Australian folk, and nods to his “muscular Christianity” ethos.

Arrangement Tips

  • Verse Structure: Start with a solo acoustic guitar to set a narrative tone, introducing the fiddle midway through the first verse (e.g., at "Till the '70s called them homeward" ) to build texture.
  • Chorus: Bring in the harmonica and bodhrán for a fuller sound, encouraging a communal sing-along feel to reflect David’s public advocacy.
  • Refrain: Slow the tempo slightly, letting the fiddle and harmonica trade melodic lines over a soft guitar strum, ending with a sustained chord to linger on his legacy.
  • Dynamics: Use a crescendo in the chorus to mirror David’s growing voice on X and in his books, then a decrescendo in the refrain for introspection.

Performance Notes

  • This arrangement suits a live setting, such as a Sydney folk festival or online stream on Locals.com, where David’s community could join in. The instruments are portable and accessible, aligning with folk music’s grassroots ethos.
  • Encourage a call-and-response style in the chorus ("Oh, sing of David Ball…" ) to engage listeners, reflecting his 1,600+ X followers’ support as of September 2025.

This combination of tempo, rhythm, and instruments creates a rich, evocative folk ballad that honors David Ball’s life story while staying true to the genre’s storytelling tradition.

Suggested images
[Verse 1]
Lyrics: "In New York City, '67, a child was born so bold, David Ball, with dreams afire, where Sesame Street was told. His father shaped young minds at Columbia's hall so grand, Till the '70s called them homeward to Sydney's distant land."
Image Suggestion: A nostalgic scene of 1960s Manhattan with a young David Ball as a baby in a cradle, surrounded by Sesame Street puppets (e.g., Big Bird, Elmo) and educational toys. In the background, Columbia University’s Teachers College looms, with a ship sailing toward Sydney’s harbor silhouette.
Prompt: "A warm, vintage 1960s New York City street scene, a baby cradle with a newborn David Ball, surrounded by colorful Sesame Street puppets like Big Bird and Elmo, educational toys scattered, Columbia University’s Teachers College in the background, a ship sailing toward Sydney’s harbor silhouette, soft pastel colors, nostalgic mood, detailed and whimsical, digital art style."

[Verse 2]
Lyrics: "Self-taught he read by Sydney's shore, with numbers as his guide, A math teacher in the tough schools, where hope and youth reside. For thirty years he shaped young souls, with lessons bold and wise, Till tragedy struck with Hamidur, and tears filled David’s eyes."
Image Suggestion: A young David teaching math on a Sydney beach, chalkboard in sand with equations, surrounded by diverse students. Transition to a somber classroom scene with a shadowed figure of Hamidur, tears falling from David’s eyes.
Prompt: "A vibrant Sydney beach with a young David Ball teaching math, chalkboard in the sand with equations, diverse students around him, transitioning to a somber classroom with a shadowed teenage boy (Hamidur), tears falling from David’s eyes, warm coastal colors fading to muted tones, emotional and detailed, watercolor style."

[Verse 3]
Lyrics: "In 2008, a boy was lost, poor Rahman’s tale so grim, David cried against the silence, a whistleblower’s hymn. He fought the system, dark and cold, for justice long denied, A pedophile’s shadow, Hamidur’s fate, with truth he would abide."
Image Suggestion: A dramatic confrontation—David standing with a megaphone against a shadowy bureaucratic building, Hamidur’s ghostly silhouette fading, a dark figure symbolizing the pedophile cover-up lurking.
Prompt: "A dramatic scene of David Ball with a megaphone, standing against a shadowy bureaucratic building, a ghostly silhouette of Hamidur fading into the background, a dark figure symbolizing a pedophile cover-up lurking, intense lighting, stark contrasts, gritty and bold, digital painting style."

[Verse 4]
Lyrics: "From teaching’s end, his pen took flight, with Bread of Life so pure, Devotionals of faith and hope, since nineteen-ninety-four. Forty-five books, a forty-sixth in dreamtime tales to weave, Warlpiri fairytales to sing, where ancient stories breathe."
Image Suggestion: David writing at a desk, surrounded by stacks of books (Bread of Life covers visible), with a dreamlike overlay of Warlpiri Dreamtime figures (e.g., ancestral spirits, desert landscapes) emerging from his pen.
Prompt: "David Ball writing at a desk, surrounded by stacks of books with Bread of Life covers, a dreamlike overlay of Warlpiri Dreamtime figures like ancestral spirits and desert landscapes emerging from his pen, warm earthy tones, spiritual and surreal, mixed media art style."

[Verse 5]
Lyrics: "He ran for office, bold and free, in thirteen and sixteen’s race, A conservative voice on X so wide, with sixteen hundred’s grace. In Sydney now, a ‘fat writer’ stands, with Capricorn’s fierce fire, His blog resounds with ‘muscular faith,’ lifting souls ever higher."
Image Suggestion: David campaigning with a banner, a laptop displaying his X profile (@DaOddBall67) with 1,600 followers, transitioning to him as a robust writer in Sydney, a Capricorn symbol and fiery aura behind him.
Prompt: "David Ball campaigning with a banner, a laptop showing his X profile @DaOddBall67 with 1,600 followers, transitioning to him as a robust writer in Sydney, a Capricorn symbol and fiery aura behind him, modern and bold, mixed with traditional folk art elements, vibrant colors."

[Refrain]
Lyrics: "So raise your voice for David Ball, through trials he’s held the line, From New York’s streets to Sydney’s call, his legacy will shine. With every word, with every fight, he carves a path so rare, A ballad born of truth and light, forever in the air."
Image Suggestion: A triumphant David with raised arms, a crowd singing, a map connecting New York and Sydney, light rays breaking through clouds, symbolizing his legacy.
Prompt: "A triumphant David Ball with raised arms, a diverse crowd singing, a map connecting New York and Sydney, light rays breaking through clouds, symbolizing legacy, warm and uplifting tones, epic and detailed, oil painting style."

https://suno.com/s/bIHE4UzJfUcxAbzR

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I'm a teacher with three decades experience teaching math to high school kids.I also work with first graders and kids in between first grade and high school. I know the legends of why Hypatia's dad is remembered through his contribution to Math theory. And I know the legend of why followers of Godel had thought he had disproved God's existence.

I'm not a preacher, but I am a Christian who has written over 28 books all of which include some reference to my faith. Twelve blog books on world history and current affairs, detailing world events , births and marriages on each day of the year, organised by month. Twelve books on the background to and history of Bible Quotes. One Bible quote per day for a year. An intro to a science fiction series I'm planning, post apocalyptic cyber punk. An autobiography with short story collections.

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Mouse studies in germ-free animals showed that microbiota from obese donors can increase energy harvest and adiposity compared with lean-donor microbiota. That is the origin of the idea. Human evidence is far weaker.

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Terrorism needs no reason
Reasons still underpin it.

Terrorism needs no reason. Reasons still underpin it.

On 16 September 1920 a horse wagon exploded on Wall Street. Thirty-eight dead. Hundreds wounded. No one was convicted. We still do not know, as a matter of court record, who lit the fuse. We do know there were reasons. Flyers signed “American Anarchist Fighters” had already been dropped nearby: free the political prisoners, or it will be sure death for all of you. Five days earlier Sacco and Vanzetti had been indicted. Historians point to Mario Buda and the Galleanists. The Bureau of Investigation never closed the circle. Wall Street swept the glass, reopened the Exchange, and went back to work. The scars are still in the marble at 23 Wall Street. There is no plaque.

On the same calendar date, 219 years earlier, James II and VII died in exile at Saint-Germain-en-Laye. His only surviving legitimate son, thirteen-year-old James Francis Edward Stuart, inherited the Jacobite claim to England, Scotland and Ireland. His friends called him James III and VIII. His enemies called him the Pretender; later, the Old Pretender. That was not a mystery. It was a reason. A Catholic heir had been born in 1688; the Glorious Revolution followed; Parliament barred Catholics from the throne; the Act of Settlement of 1701 settled the crown on the Protestant house of Hanover so that this boy and every Catholic Stuart after him would never wear it. Louis XIV recognised him as king. Spain and the Pope followed. England attainted him. From that inheritance came the risings of 1715 and 1745, foreign intrigue, and a generation that toasted “the king over the water.” James himself was cautious, devout, and unsuccessful. He never sat on those thrones. The claim still produced armies.

Two 16ths of September. One unsolved bombing. One dynastic claim that never became a reign. In both cases the violence, or the threat of it, had a politics underneath. Anarchists wanted prisoners freed and capitalism punished. Jacobites wanted a king they believed had been stolen by statute. Terrorism does not require a reason that we find respectable. It requires a reason that someone finds sufficient.

That is the first half of the argument, and it is the easy half. History is full of men who killed for a pamphlet, a creed, a succession, or a grievance that would not survive a quiet afternoon in a court of law. The hard half is now.

Today we often have both the identity and the reason. Manifestos are posted. Organisations claim the dead. Intelligence services name networks. Cameras record the act. And still the convictions do not arrive, or they arrive so late that the word justice has already gone cold. Khalid Sheikh Mohammed has been in custody for a generation as the alleged architect of 11 September 2001. A trial date has been pushed toward 2028. A confession was thrown out because of how it was obtained. Victim families are still waiting. That is not an unsolved wagon on Wall Street. That is a known man, a known plot, and a system that cannot finish the case.

So the question is not whether terrorism has reasons. Of course it does. The question that has to be asked, without theatre, is whether terrorism is, in practice, legal.

The law on the page says no. Murder is murder. Conspiracy is conspiracy. Material support is an offence. States write statutes, fund agencies, and hold anniversary speeches. Then the machinery stalls: torture taints evidence; jurisdiction fights last decades; pleas are signed and unsigned; defendants age out; some are deported instead of tried; others serve terms that look like ordinary crime while the political costume is quietly folded away. When the identity is known and the motive is published and the court still cannot produce a verdict the public can trust, the prohibition becomes a sermon. Sermons do not deter men who already have a reason.

The Jacobites at least forced Parliament to say what it was doing. The Act of Settlement was an open choice: religion and politics over blood. You can argue with that choice. You cannot pretend it was hidden. The Wall Street bombers hid and ran. The modern failure is different again. We advertise the names and then fail to close the book.

A society that will not convict what it can identify has not legalised terrorism by statute. It has legalised it by neglect. Reasons will keep arriving. They always have. The only question left is whether the law still means what it says when the reason is already on the table.

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September 15, 2026
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Cakewalk, where did the expression come from?
'It was supposed to be a cakewalk'

Cakewalk, where did the expression come from? 'It was supposed to be a cakewalk' a soldier might complain, feeling a simple mission wasn't. But the word is not from war.

The soldier’s complaint is the modern meaning. The word is older, and it is not military.

A cakewalk was a dance. Enslaved African Americans in the antebellum South created it. They did not import it from Africa as a finished form. They took the European grand promenade they saw in the big house — the Grand March, the minuet, the stiff carriage of formal wear — and turned it into a high-stepping, backward-leaning, inventively comic parody. Couples dressed in borrowed or handed-down finery. They added shuffles, kicks and African-derived movement. The couple judged most elegant or most inventive won a decorated cake. That prize is why we still say someone “takes the cake.”

Exact dates and places are lost. Oral histories collected from formerly enslaved people describe Sunday “prize walks” in the quarters. Owners often watched and even judged. Many missed the joke. The ragtime musician Shepard Edmonds, whose parents had been enslaved, put it plainly: they “did a take-off on the high manners of the white folks… but their masters… missed the point.”

After emancipation the dance moved into Black community gatherings, then onto the minstrel stage. White performers in blackface inverted the satire into caricature. African American professionals later reclaimed it. Bert Williams and George Walker (with Aida Overton Walker) made it a theatrical specialty and took it to Broadway. Championship contests filled Madison Square Garden in the 1890s. The dance reached Europe; Paris had a brief “folie du cake-walk.” John Philip Sousa’s band carried cakewalk numbers abroad. The music — 2/4 march bass under a syncopated strut — fed directly into ragtime. Kerry Mills’s “At a Georgia Camp Meeting,” Abe Holzmann’s “Smoky Mokes,” Scott Joplin’s “Swipesy Cakewalk,” and Debussy’s joking “Golliwogg’s Cake-Walk” all sit on that line.

The idiom “it was a cakewalk” did not arise because the dance was simple. The strut demanded skill and stamina. What spectators saw was ease. That impression of effortless elegance is what the phrase kept. “Piece of cake” is a later cousin of the same prize-and-leisure association.

The craze faded after about 1905 as the one-step, tango and foxtrot arrived. Fragments survived in later vernacular dance. The circular “cakewalk” still played at school fairs is a distant, sanitized game that has almost nothing to do with the original promenade.

The history is layered: enslaved people mocking their owners, white minstrels mocking those dancers, Black professionals reclaiming the form, white composers and socialites adopting it in turn. One historian’s summary still holds: Blacks imitating whites who were imitating Blacks who were imitating whites.

That is where the expression comes from. Not from a battlefield that looked easy. From a dance that looked easy while it was doing something else.

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September 14, 2026
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Administrative Justice can be weak
Or corrupt

Administrative Justice can be weak

The three cases sit in different wars and different offences, but they share the same machinery: a commander needs an example, a court is assembled under pressure, and politics decides who dies and who is remembered.

Harry “Breaker” Morant and Peter Handcock — Boer War, 1902

Harry Harbord Morant (born Edwin Henry Murrant, 9 December 1864, Bridgwater) was an English-born Australian drover, horseman and Bulletin balladist. He enlisted for South Africa, then took a commission in the Bushveldt Carbineers, an irregular unit hunting Boer guerrillas in the northern Transvaal. After Captain Percy Hunt was killed (and, Morant believed, mutilated), Morant and Lieutenant Peter Handcock shot unarmed prisoners: Floris Visser; a group of eight Boers who came in to surrender; three more later. A German missionary, Rev. Daniel Heese, was also killed; they were acquitted of that charge. They admitted the prisoner killings. Defence counsel Major J. F. Thomas argued “no prisoners” orders from above, including Kitchener; the court was not satisfied those orders were proved.

Trials ran January–February 1902. The court recommended mercy for Morant on provocation, good service and inexperience. Kitchener confirmed death for Morant and Handcock, commuted George Witton’s sentence to life (Witton was released in 1904 after a large Australian petition). They were shot at Pretoria at dawn on 27 February 1902, about 18 hours after sentence, by Cameron Highlanders. Morant refused a blindfold. Last words, as remembered: “Shoot straight, you bastards! Don’t make a mess of it!” Australia was not consulted. Kitchener’s later telegram to the Governor-General said twelve murders were proved and Morant originated them. Pardons have been refused; Australian Attorney-General Nicola Roxon in 2012 said they did kill unarmed prisoners. Folk memory, and the 1980 film, still treat them as scapegoats for a dirty counter-guerrilla war. Guilt of the shootings is not seriously in dispute; the live argument is whether the trial was fair, whether “take no prisoners” was informal policy, and whether Kitchener needed a public example as peace talks approached.

Private Thomas James Highgate — Western Front, 8 September 1914

Highgate, 19, Shoreham farm labourer’s son, 1st Battalion Royal West Kent Regiment, was the first British soldier executed for desertion on the Western Front, 35 days into the war. After Mons and the retreat, on 5–6 September he left the line saying he needed to ease himself. Hours later a gamekeeper found him in civilian clothes near Tournan. He was reported as saying he had had enough and wanted out. Court-martial the same day: no defending officer, no witnesses from his company (they were scattered), previous pre-war absence on his sheet. He said he meant to rejoin and could not explain the civilian clothes. Smith-Dorrien wanted him shot “as publicly as possible.” Informed at 06:22 on 8 September, shot at 07:07 in front of Dorsets and Cheshires. No known grave; La Ferté-sous-Jouarre Memorial. Group pardon 2006 with the other Shot at Dawn men. Process was the lightest of the three: hours, not weeks; deterrence first, proof second. Line officers had just watched the BEF reel backwards; one teenager in civilian kit became the example.

Private Eddie Slovik — Western Front, 31 January 1945

Edward Donald Slovik, 24, Detroit, petty criminal, drafted 1944 into the 28th Infantry Division as a replacement. After coming under fire he left twice, then handed in a signed confession that he would desert again rather than fight. Offered a deal: return to the line and the charge drops. He refused. Court-martial 11 November 1944: nine officers, under two hours, unanimous death. Forty-nine U.S. soldiers received death for desertion in WWII; 48 sentences were commuted. Eisenhower confirmed Slovik’s during the Battle of the Bulge. Shot at 10:04 on 31 January 1945 at Sainte-Marie-aux-Mines by twelve men of his own regiment (eleven live rounds). He told them they were not shooting him for desertion — thousands had done that — but because he was an ex-con and they needed an example. He is the only U.S. soldier executed for desertion since the Civil War. Process was the heaviest of the three: counsel, reviews, theatre commander, written confession. The politics was timing and message, not speed.

What the three cases share

Decimation is the old form of the same idea: if a unit fails, kill some of it so the rest fight. Highgate and Slovik were not random lots; they were chosen because their files made the example easy. Morant was not a deserter. He was an officer who killed prisoners in a guerrilla war and then claimed superior orders. That is a different crime. Treating all three as the same “administrative injustice” flattens the distinction your draft already notes: bad officers send men to die; other officers shoot men who have already surrendered.

Politics is not an add-on. It is the point of a public execution. Kitchener needed German and Boer opinion managed as the war ended. Smith-Dorrien needed the retreat not to become a rout. Eisenhower needed the Ardennes not to dissolve into straggling. In each case the line managers — Hunt’s death and the Carbineers’ culture; the collapse after Mons; a replacement pipeline feeding a smashed division — created the mess. The courts then picked a man the file would carry.

The danger of treating desertion as a medical or political inconvenience in a total war is real. So is the danger of a court that exists to ratify a sentence already decided upstairs. Highgate’s hearing was too light to be justice. Slovik’s was heavy enough to look like justice and still produced the one death among forty-nine. Morant’s was long enough to look thorough, then finished in eighteen hours so there could be no appeal to Australia or to Kitchener in person.

That is administrative justice under fire: not Rome’s one-in-ten lottery, but a selection of the man whose death will preach. The sermon is discipline. The congregation is the army still in the line. Whether the preacher is honest is a separate question from whether the army can afford to look weak.

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