Welcome back to the deep dive either today. We
are Well, we're not just unpacking a standard
biography today. No, definitely not. We are essentially
looking at a a Glitch in the matrix of political
history That's a great way to put it because
we have this stack of documents here that frankly
just shouldn't belong to the same person Right.
The variety is staggering. Yeah. I mean we have
naval service records from the absolute height
of the first world war we have dusty minutes
from the Auckland City Council in the 1960s.
And then we have these personal letters that
read less like a memoir and more like a psychological
thriller. They really do. So we are unpacking
the life of a man named George Frederick Harry
Forsythe. It is a life that really just defies
categorization. Like, if you pitched this as
a movie script, the producers would tell you
to pick a genre. Right. Is this a war movie or
a political drama? Exactly. Because it feels
like three different movies stitched together.
You have the war movie, the working class hero
drama, and then this incredibly tense... political
tragedy at the end. Yeah. And the reason we are
doing this, the mission for this deep dive isn't
just to recite dates. No. Or list the battles
he fought in, though, you know, those are incredibly
impressive. Very impressive. But we want to understand
a very specific, very painful human dilemma.
The tension. The tension, yes. Between loyalty
to a team, whether that's a political party,
a trade union or the Royal Navy. and loyalty
to your own rigid personal code of conduct. Because
Forsyth is the ultimate test case for that, isn't
he? He is. He's what happens when you completely
refuse to compromise, even when that refusal
threatens to destroy literally everything you
have spent a lifetime building. That is the key
theme we need to keep coming back to for you
listening today. This is a man who fits that
Forrest Gump archetype. Right, popping up everywhere.
Yeah, he keeps popping up in the middle of these
massive historical events, but he doesn't have
that naive go -with -the -flow attitude that
we associate with Gump. Definitely not. Forsythe
is sharp, he's difficult, he's gritty, and he
creates friction wherever he goes. He's the Forrest
Gump who would... argue with the bus driver about
the route. Yes. And then file a formal complaint
about the suspension system on the bus. That
is a perfect description, and he would probably
organize all the passengers into a union before
they even got off. So true. So let's look at
the sources we have. We have the military archives,
which are intense. Yeah. We have the union records,
which span nearly half a century. And we have
the political fallout reports from the New Zealand
Labor Party. And just as a quick reminder for
you listening, when we dive into the politics,
left -wing, right -wing, AOP, we aren't taking
sides here. Right. We're just reporting what
the sources say. Exactly. We're just looking
at the historical record impartially. But looking
at all this paper... Where do we even start with
a resume like this? You have to start with the
noise. The noise. Yeah, you have to start with
the sheer industrial violence of his youth. Because
everything George Forsyth becomes later, the
rigid disciplinarian, the stubborn city counselor,
the man who yells at the mayor, it's all forged
in the North Sea between 1915 and 1918. Okay,
let's set the scene. He was born in England in
1898. Right. So when the First World War breaks
out, he is just a kid. Barely a teenager. And
he joins the Royal Navy. And I want to pause
on the Royal Navy part because it's vital for
you to understand the culture he's entering.
It's strict. Beyond strict. This isn't a democratic
organization where you vote on where the ship
goes. No, it's the ultimate hierarchy. It is
the absolute definition of do what you are told.
It is obey orders instantly, without question.
It is a machine. And Forsyth... Remarkably, thrives
in it. He really does. His service record is
baffling for someone so young. He isn't peeling
potatoes in some quiet port down in Cornwall.
No, he's in the thick of it. He is at Dogger
Bank. He is at Heligoland. He is at the Zeebrugger
raid. And the big one. The biggest one? The Battle
of Jutland. Jutland, the largest naval battle
of the First World War, the only time the full
might of the British and German dreadnought fleets
actually smashed into each other. We are talking
about 250 massive ships. I was reading the accounts
of Jutland to prep for this deep dive. And the
scale is just hard to comprehend. It's apocalyptic.
It really is. It's not just ships shooting at
each other. It's the sky turning completely black
from coal smoke. Ships exploding and vanishing
in seconds. Thousands of men dying in minutes.
And Forsyth is a teenager watching this happen.
Insane. He is seeing what happens when discipline
holds, and he's seeing the catastrophic cost
of error. When you survive Jutland, when you
watch a battle cruiser like the Queen Mary explode
because of a magazine detonation. Just vaporized.
Exactly. It wires your brain differently. It
instills a fatalism, sure, but also a terrifying
clarity. Stop caring about feelings or popularity.
You just care about the rules. Right. You care
about, is the ship watertight? Is the gun loaded?
Are we following procedure? Because if you don't
follow procedure, you die or your friends die.
Exactly. So fast forward 40 years to a city council
meeting about a bus terminal. Right. Everyone
else is thinking about polling numbers or political
favors. Forsyth is thinking. This is the procedure.
This is the right way. Why are you arguing with
me? He brings that battleship mentality into
a democratic debating chamber. Which is a complete
recipe for disaster. It really is. Yeah. But
before we get to the politics, there is this
bizarre Hollywood moment in his service record.
Oh, this is fascinating. It's almost too perfect.
He's serving on a destroyer, the HMS Sportive.
That's right. It's 1918, towards the end of the
war. He's off the coast of Syria and Palestine.
And he meets Colonel T .E. Lawrence. Lawrence
of Arabia. Yes. The sources completely confirm
it. Forsyth, this young petty officer, a rank
that is entirely about enforcing rules, by the
way, bumps into Lawrence. The contrast is just
wild. Now think about the contrast here for a
second. Lawrence is the ultimate irregular. He's
wearing robes. He's ignoring orders from headquarters
in Cairo. He's waging a guerrilla war out in
the desert. He is the embodiment of making it
up as you go along. And Forsyth is the embodiment
of the rule book. Exactly. Forsyth cited this
as one of his most vivid memories. We don't have
a transcript of the conversation, sadly. I wish
we did. Right. But you have to wonder if Forsyth
looked at Lawrence and thought, impressive results,
but look at the state of your uniform. That's
not how we do things in the Navy, Colonel. Where's
your shaving kit? Precisely. And this is a foreshadowing
moment. Very much so. Because later in life,
Forsythe's greatest enemy, his absolute nemesis
in politics, is a man who is very much like Lawrence.
Oh, completely. Charismatic, irregular, breaks
all the rules. And Forsyth absolutely hates him.
It's like he spent his whole life trying to stop
the Lawrence's of the world from messing up his
perfect system. That's a brilliant way to put
it. Yeah. He valued this system over the star
power. So he stays in the Navy until 1930, but
he eventually moves to New Zealand in 1923 as
a seamanship instructor. So his first real job
in his new country is literally teaching people
how to follow naval rules. Perfect fit. And then
World War II hits. And the uniform comes right
back out. Of course it does. He commands the
Auckland Home Guard. He is a man who runs toward
responsibility. He wants to be the one in charge
of the defense. So by the time the war is over
and he's settling into civilian life properly,
his character is set in stone. Cemented. He is
a commander. He is a man of discipline. But here
is the pivot. He doesn't stay in the military.
He becomes a union man. Which sounds contradictory
at first. It does. And this wasn't just a brief
stint. We are talking about a 44 -year career.
Looking at the specific union he led, it's not
the one you'd expect for a guy who fought at
Jutland. No, not at all. When we think of New
Zealand labor history, or really labor history
anywhere, we think of the muscle unions. The
big guys. The war fees, the dock workers, the
miners, the rail workers. The guys who can shut
down the entire economy just by folding their
arms. The guys who get into fistfights with the
police. The guys who block the ports. Right.
Forsyte didn't lead those guys. Who did he lead?
He was the president of the Auckland Caretakers,
Cleaners, Lift Attendance and Washmen's Union.
Lift Attendance and Watchmen. Talk about the
invisible workforce. It is the absolute definition
of invisible. These are the people who unlock
the doors at five in the morning. They polish
the floors while everyone else is sleeping. They
sit in the lobby watching a security monitor.
Exactly. And they have almost zero economic leverage.
If the cleaners go on strike, the office is dirty
the next day, sure, but the business keeps running.
It's not like a dock strike where the exports
physically stop and millions are lost. Exactly.
So how do you lead a union like that? You can't
just bully the employers. You have to be smarter.
You have to be incredibly organized. You have
to use the arbitration courts, the legal system,
the specific clauses in the employment contract.
This plays perfectly to Forsyth's strengths.
Perfectly. He was a bureaucratic warrior. He
fought for these people, the little guys, the
people with no voice for four decades. He retired
as president at age 74, right? Yes. And he was
made a life member. And he wasn't just local
either. He took this role to the national stage.
He did. He became the national president. He
sat on the Auckland Trades Council for years.
He even represented New Zealand at two conferences
of the International Labour Organization, the
ILO. That is a huge jump. from representing lift
attendants in Auckland to sitting at the ILO
table on the international stage. It shows his
capacity to scale up. But it also reinforces
his core identity. He saw himself as a champion
of the working class. Specifically, the little
guy within the working class. Yes. And this is
crucial for understanding what happens later
in the political arena. He built an identity
as a working class hero. He wasn't some wealthy
lawyer who'd join the Labor Party for clout.
No, he was in the trenches. Literally in World
War I and metaphorically with the cleaners and
caretakers. So when he enters politics... He
feels like he owns the moral high ground. He
feels he's earned it through blood and sweat.
In his eyes, absolutely. He enters the political
arena properly in 1953 when he's elected to the
Auckland City Council. And he's re -elected in
1956. Right. So everything seems to be going
to plan. He's a loyal labor man sitting on the
council doing the hard work. But then in 1958,
we get the first crack in the hall. The first...
breakup, if you will. This is a very telling
incident. It's 1958 and Forsyth straight up resigns
from the Labor Party. And this is where you expect
some massive scandal. What was it? Corruption,
embezzlement. Some torrid affair. A Western bus
terminal. A bus terminal. Literally a bus terminal.
You're joking. No. Specifically, it was a disagreement
with the Auckland Labour Representation Committee
regarding the council's plan for a Western bus
terminal. Okay, break that down for us. Forsyth
supported the council's plan. He looked at the
logistics and agreed with it. The Labour Party
machine, however, did not. They censured him
for defying party policy. But most politicians
would just swallow their pride, vote with the
party, and move on. Right? I mean, it's just
a bus terminal. But Forsyth quits the party over
it. Yeah, he just walks away. He quits. And this
analyzes perfectly back to that naval background
we were just talking about. The captain's word
is law. On a ship, if the captain, or in this
case, his own judgment as a counselor says this
is the right course, You follow it. He valued
his own assessment of the city's needs over the
abstract discipline of the party machine. Exactly.
He felt that as an elected official, his duty
was the city first on that specific logistical
issue. So he's out of labor, but he doesn't stop.
In 1959, He runs as a civic reform candidate.
Which was a ticket combining labor people and
united independence. And here is the kicker.
He wins. That's the key takeaway. It is. He proved
to himself and to the city that he could win
without the official party machine backing him.
That is a dangerous lesson for a politician to
learn if you want them to remain loyal later
on. Very dangerous. It validated his belief that
he was the brand, not the party. Right. He thinks
they voted for Forsythe. Not for the labor logo.
Exactly. So eventually fences do get mended.
By 1962, he's back in the labor fold. But the
piece doesn't last long. Because a new character
enters the story. The nemesis. Of Meyer Robinson.
Even the name sounds like a character from a
novel. Robinson was a force of nature. He was
the sitting mayor of Auckland. He was charismatic.
He was eccentric. And he was a decided individualist.
And we've firmly established that Forsythe the
Navy man, the union president, is all about the
team, the structure, the collective. Exactly.
You have a massive personality clash here. Robinson
was incredibly popular, but he wasn't a party
man in the way Forsyth understood it. So what's
the context for their first real clash? The 1962
election. Forsyth rejoins Labor. He runs for
council with Alex Draver. But there is this widening
rift between the Labor Party apparatus, specifically
Forsyth, and Mayor Robinson. And this is where
Forsyth gets pretty petty. or principal, depending
on how you look at it, because in 1962, instead
of backing Robinson, who, let's be clear, had
a lot of support from left leaning voters, Forsyth
campaigns for Edgar Faber, who was the president
of the Chamber of Commerce. So the lifelong trade
unionist, the leader of the cleaners and caretakers,
is actively campaigning for the Chamber of Commerce
guy, just despite the incumbent mayor. It looks
like pure spite, but Forsyth would argue it was
rigorous adherence to principle. How does that
logic work? His argument was this, the working
class deserves a labor option, a real official
labor option on the ballot. Robinson actually
had policies that labor liked. He wanted better
public transport, he wanted council housing,
he wanted inner city redevelopment. So on paper,
they aligned. Yes, but he wasn't labor. To Forsyth,
Robinson was getting a free ride. He was harvesting
labor votes. without submitting to labor discipline.
Exactly. It's the difference between I like your
ideas and I need you to wear the jersey. Forsyth
needed everyone to wear the jersey. Precisely.
Forsyth believed that by letting Robinson run
unopposed by labor, the party was weakening itself.
They were outsourcing their job to an independent.
He felt that if you are a labor voter, you should
have a box to tick that says labor for every
single position, including mayor. That was his
core belief. This brings us to the 1965 mayoral
campaign. Forsyth decides he's completely done
watching from the sidelines. He wants a full
labor ticket. Right. In March 1965, he proposes
this motion to the party. Initially, the leadership
defeats it. They know Robinson is popular. They
don't want to rock the boat and lose. But the
matter gets referred to the local branches. And
here is the surprise. The local branches actually
agree with Forsyth. The rank and file want a
candidate. They do. They believed that having
a mayoral candidate at the top of the ticket
would create a coattail effect. Meaning, even
if the mayoral candidate didn't win, the excitement
of having a real labor choice would bring out
more voters, who would then vote for labor counselors
down the ballot. Right. So Forsyth gets his wish.
he becomes the mayoral candidate. And he does
not hold back. I mean, the rhetoric in this campaign
was blistering. He attacked Robinson personally.
He did. We have the quotes here. He was quoted
saying, civic leaders are so busy creating an
image for themselves, they're forgetting the
people they should be serving. That is a direct
shot at Robinson's celebrity style. And my favorite
quote, he described Robinson as someone who had
set himself up as a god. Strong words. It highlights
that clash we mentioned earlier. The celebrity
mayor versus the service -oriented counselor.
Forsythe saw himself as a public servant doing
the unglamorous work. He saw Robinson as a public
performer. But the voters didn't quite see it
that way. No. The result was, frankly, a total
disaster for labor. Forsythe finished a distant
third. He got 3 ,373 votes. That's nothing. But
the real damage was the spoiler effect. Because
by running, he split the left -leaning vote.
Exactly. He pulled just enough votes away from
Robinson to allow the Citizens and Ratepayers
candidate, Roy McElroy, to win. The conservative
candidate wins. Yes. McElroy won by about 1 ,100
votes. If Forsyth hadn't run, or if those 3 ,000
labor votes had gone to Robinson, Robinson likely
would have coasted to victory. And what about
that coattail effect? Did he at least bring in
a bunch of new labor counselors? Zero. None.
The predicted surge of labor counselors completely
failed to materialize. Wow. Forsyth got re -elected
to the council and his running mate Drever got
in, but that was it. The strategy was a total
failure. You would think, looking at that math,
looking at the absolute wreckage of the 1965
election, Forsyth would say, okay, lesson learned.
We can't split the vote. You would think that,
but you would be wrong. This sets the stage for
what we call the unthinkable act of 1968. The
stakes are even higher now. McElroy is the mayor.
Robinson wants his job back. Labor is stuck right
in the middle. So Forsyth tries one last power
play. He invites Robinson to a meeting. Face
to face. Face to face. And he issues an ultimatum.
Join the Labor Party. Subscribe to our principles
and policies. If you do that, I will support
you for mayor. Join the team. Wear the jersey.
And you have the union man's blessing. But Robinson
predictably declines. He values his independence
just as much as Forsyth values the party structure.
Unstoppable force meets immovable objects. Exactly.
So Forsyth withdraws his support. But the Labor
Party leadership. The strategists who are actually
looking at the numbers, they realize they cannot
win a three -way race again. They know it's suicide.
And they know that most labor voters actually
prefer Robinson. Why wouldn't they? Because Robinson
wants rapid rail. He wants cheaper transit. That
actually helps working -class people. McElroy,
the citizens and ratepayers guy, didn't really
have policies for the working class. This is
the crux of the tragedy. On a policy level, Robinson
was clearly the better choice for the people
Forsyth claimed to represent. Rapid rail would
have been a game changer for the cleaners and
watchmen living out in the suburbs. It would
have. But Forsyth couldn't get past the independence
label. He just fundamentally disagreed with the
party's pragmatic decision to sit out the mayoral
race and let Robinson run against McElroy. So
what does he do? He goes rogue. He fails to get
the labor nomination because the party wisely
decides not to run a candidate. So Forsyth resigns
from the Labour Party, again. Second time. The
second time. And he runs for mayor anyway as
a Labour Independent. That label is incredible.
Labour Independent. It's a complete oxymoron.
It's his way of saying, I am the only true Labour
person here, even if the Labour Party disagrees
with me. He views himself as the sole guardian
of true principles. He really believed the party
had lost its way by compromising with Robinson.
And the public reaction to this was ugly. It
got very dark. This wasn't just a polite disagreement
in the council chambers anymore. The campaign
turned into what Forsyth himself called Chicago
-style opposition. Chicago -style? That conjures
up images of gangsters and strong arming. In
the context of 1960s Auckland, it meant real
intimidation. Forsyth started receiving anonymous
threatening phone calls. Threatening his life.
At least half a dozen of them telling him to
back down. People refused to give their names
but made it abundantly clear he should drop out.
That's intense. Even worse, his family was verbally
abused while riding on public buses. That is
horrifying. His family getting yelled at on the
bus just for being related to him. It just shows
how heated local politics had become. People
were furious that he was going to spoil the election
again and hand it to the conservatives. How did
Forsyth react to the threats? He lamented it.
He said he wasn't worried about the callers.
Personally. Remember, this is a Jutland veteran,
a phone call won't scare him, but he thought
it was a pretty poor state of affairs that a
man couldn't offer himself for public office
without this kind of abuse. And what was the
result of the election? Crushing. His vote count
was halved from 1965. Halved. So people really
abandoned him. Completely. He was humiliated
at the polls. Robinson, despite Forsyth's interference,
actually managed to win the mayoralty back this
time. He defeated McElroy. But Forsyth... Forsyth
lost his seat on the city council. He was entirely
out. That is a tragic fall. He stood on principle
or stubbornness and he lost everything. His seat,
his party, his influence. There is a bitter irony
here too. What's that? Forsyth and McElroy, the
opponent, the right wing citizens and ratepayers
candidate, were actually friends. Really? They
liked each other. They viewed each other as team
players. Forsyth actually respected McElroy more
than he respected Robinson simply because McElroy
followed the rules of his own party. He preferred
an organized opponent to a chaotic ally. Exactly.
He understood McElroy. He didn't understand Robinson.
That is fascinating psychology. He'd rather lose
to a proper enemy than win with a rule breaker.
It tells you everything about his worldview.
Now, before we write him off as just this grumpy,
obstinate spoiler, we need to look at the other
side of the ledger. We do. Because section seven
of our deep dive reminds us that his principles
weren't just about party rules or personal vendettas.
He took some brave, genuinely unpopular stances
on real moral issues. This is crucial to understanding
the whole man. He wasn't just a bureaucratic
infighter. He had a deep moral compass. Like
the housing issue in 1967. Right. He was a member
of the Auckland State Housing Allocation Committee.
That's a very powerful position for a local politician.
It is. You decide who gets a roof over their
head, and he resigned from that committee in
protest. Over what? Because of the Holyoke government's
policy regarding the housing of Pacific Islanders.
He felt the policy was discriminatory. Yes. He
felt the government was actively failing to provide
equitable housing for Pacific Island immigrants
coming into Auckland. Resigning over that, in
1967, was a significant stance on racial and
social equity. It wasn't a popular cause for
a white politician at the time. It shows he really
did care about the marginalized, the people the
system was actively ignoring. Just like his cleaners
and lift attendants. Exactly the same principle.
And then there's the Vietnam War. This one always
amazes me. It connects right back to his youth.
In 1968, the absolute height of the conflict,
Forsyth proposed visiting Hanoi personally. He
wanted to go to North Vietnam. He wanted to fly
there and negotiate an end to the Vietnam War.
That sounds almost delusional. A city councilor
from Auckland solving the Vietnam War? It does
sound crazy. But also incredibly poignant. It
is poignant. You have to remember this is a veteran
of Jutland. He knows what industrial slaughter
looks like firsthand. He's seen the water turn
red. Right. He's not a young hippie protester
holding a sign. He's an old sailor who has seen
the absolute worst of humanity. He genuinely
believed that perhaps one veteran talking to
the leadership could cut through the politics
and make a difference. It shows a naive but really
noble desire for peace. And we also see his leadership
in disaster relief closer to home. The Kaita
was sinking. Yes. When the MV Kaitawa sank in
1966, it was a terrible tragedy off Cape Ringo
where all hands were lost. 29 men died, I think.
Right. And Forsyth immediately stepped up and
chaired the relief fund. That brings it all back
to the sea for him. He never forgot the sailors.
When that ship went down, he was the one making
sure the widows and the families were looked
after financially. So you have this incredibly
complex picture. A man who could be infuriatingly
stubborn about a bus terminal or a mayoral ticket,
but who would also fiercely fight for Pacific
Islander housing and the widows of drowned sailors.
He was entirely consistent in his own mind. So
after the 1968 defeat, he's out of the council.
But he's not dead yet politically. He stays active
on various boards. He kept serving. He was on
the regional authority, the Metropolitan Drainage
Board, the Electric Power Board. And the fire
board. Yes, he was chairman of the staff committee
on the fire board. Again, always looking after
the workers, the staff. But we have one final
plot twist. The year is 1974. Forsyth is 75 years
old. And he decides to make one last comeback.
And this is the twist that just makes your head
skin when you read the archives. He declares
his intention to run for council again. But not
as labor? No. Not as an independent? He announces
he is going to run as a candidate for citizens
and ratepayers. The opposition. The conservative
ticket. The party of his old rival, McElroy.
The party he had literally spent his entire adult
life fighting against as a trade unionist. It's
stunning. How do we even explain that? Is that
the ultimate betrayal of everything he stood
for? Or is it the final evolution of his anti
-Robinson crusade? I think it's the latter. I
really do. By 1974, his hatred of the independent
chaotic style of politics was so deep and his
friendship with men like McElroy was so real
that he felt more at home with the orderly opposition
than with the chaotic left. He valued the team
player aspect more than the actual ideology.
Exactly. He would rather be on a team that followed
the rules, even if it was the wrong team ideologically,
than support a disorganized mess that happened
to agree with him. Decently and in order. That
was the phrase used in one of the history books
about Auckland local government. Forsyth wanted
order above all else. He did. Sadly, we never
got to see how the voters would have reacted
to that final switch. Because he passed away
before the election. He died in August 1974.
He was buried at Wykemeat Cemetery. a very quiet
end to a very loud, turbulent life. His papers
are now sitting at the Auckland War Memorial
Museum. If you're listening, ever go there. You
can see the paper trail of a man who fought at
Jutland, met Lawrence of Arabia, cleaned up the
unions, and tore his own political party apart
twice. All in the name of principle. It's a legacy
of absolute contradictions. He was a hero to
the lift attendants and the watchmen. He gave
them a voice when nobody else would. But he was
a massive spoiler for the broader progressive
movement in Auckland. He likely delayed the implementation
of things like rapid transit by years because
of his personal feud with Robinson. He definitely
did. It really brings us back to that question
we started with the top of the dive. When you
look at George Forsyth, you see a man who completely
refused to compromise. And we usually praise
that. We do. In a movie, we cheer for that guy.
Mr. Smith goes to Washington. That's right. We
love the guy who won't back down to the machine.
We do. But in reality, in the messy, practical
ecosystem of a running city, that refusal to
compromise can have terrible costs. It can mean
the good gets defeated because you were holding
out for the perfect. Or holding out for the rule
following. Exactly. Forsythe believed he was
the sole guardian of the temple. But by barring
the doors to anyone who didn't know the secret
handshake, like Robinson, he ended up locking
himself out, too. So. Here's the thought we want
to leave you with today. Imagine you were standing
in that voting booth in 1965 or 1968. You have
two choices in front of you. A tough choice.
Very. You have the stubborn principles candidate,
the man who has fought for the little guy his
whole life, but who is currently wrecking his
own party's chances out of spite or a rigid adherence
to the rules. Or you have the pragmatic celebrity,
the guy who might be a bit of an egoist, might
not follow the party line, might think he's a
god, but actually have the policies that will
tangibly help people tomorrow. Who gets your
vote? Exactly. The man of principle who loses,
or the man of ego who gets things done. It's
a question that doesn't just apply to 1960s Auckland.
It's one we face in almost every single election
today. Absolutely. George Forsyth might be gone,
but the Forsyth dilemma is alive and well. That's
it for this deep dive. Thanks for listening,
and we'll catch you on the next one.