At the beginning of the new century the volatility of the dollar betrayed the structural weakness of the American economy, an economy based on indebted consumption and enormous military spending. In my native Argentina I spoke to many citizens through whose eyes I could see the first signs of a potential geopolitical restructuring and the incipient emergence of new blocs. Those Argentines were always interested in the broader world as well as in my experiences on the ocean as an offshore sailor.

It wasn't easy explaining to them how tropical cyclones take shape and grow—the kind of storms called hurricanes when they batter the Atlantic and typhoons when unleashed in the Pacific. However, I tried my best, since I found they served a perfect analogy. A hurricane takes shape gradually at first, but then strikes with catastrophic results. Moist air from warm waters rises to phenomenal heights (from the atmosphere to the troposphere, grazing the stratosphere). The navigator's barometer registers a tremendous drop in atmospheric pressure. The mass of air rises in a revolving fashion. In the Northern Hemisphere, this revolution is counter-clockwise. Upon reaching the highest strata the air mass, instead of running into a reverse air flow that would brake its circulation, runs into another current flowing in the same direction that imparts amazing velocity to this high cloud spiral-speeds in excess of 74 miles per hour.