5 step plan to help America's youth deal with the real world

1. Go to the medicine cabinet.
2. Grab the Ritalin and any other mood-altering medicine.
3. Dump pills into toilet.
4. Flush.
5. Deal.

An unexpected life

I'm not entirely sure what draws me to visit The Unexpected Life of The Green Frog on a regular basis. It's certainly not the insightfully insightful insights into the politics of the day or the human condition.

I just like to see where Frog is today.

The blog is simple but hypnotic. Maybe that's all it is.

Make something

Something in the human soul makes us creative. We make things, for ourselves and for others. Created things are the basic unit in the massive, unwieldy structure that has been dubbed The Economy.

I remember a comforting detail about the belovedly strange television program The X-Files: At the close of the program, a very young voice proclaiming with pride, "I made this." Little boys and girls have an inherent understanding of the joy of creation, the satisfaction that comes from building or making something.

I remember a chill going through my soul when I heard they were closing the last Zenith plant in the US of A, and no Americans anywhere were to be building television sets anymore. It is a little more than 15 years later now, but it was about then that I started to believe the U.S. economy might reach the precarious stage where it now seems to be perched.

The key to success in the marketplace is to make something other people need or want. I'm all for the things produced by a service economy — I'm a wordsmith by trade, for God's sake — but I have always had an uneasy feeling about moving the facilities to create things far, far away. Steel factory closings, automobile factory closings, television factory closings, shoe factory closings — labels that say Made in China, Korea, India, Sri Lanka, Japan — I'm not declaring patriotic platitudes here; I'm simply asking the question: What is left for my neighbors to make? Where does the steelmaker or the shoemaker get her next meal?

This is not intended to be an appeal to your fears, although these words and phrases are often cobbled together by fear mongers to make you afraid. But I am saddened and troubled by words attributed to Barack Obama from Tuesday night's audience with journalists: "... with the private sector so weakened by this recession, the federal government is the only entity left with the resources to jolt our economy back to life."

"... the only entity left ..."? I suspect many people will not recognize in Obama's words the fulfillment of Mencken's ancient prophecy, the one I have quoted here more than once: "The whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed (and hence clamorous to be led to safety) by menacing it with an endless series of hobgoblins, all of them imaginary."

It is always false that "only" the federal government can lead an alarmed populace to safety. You certainly understand this in your soul, or you wouldn't be attracted to writings like this one. If you want resources to jolt the economy back to life, look at the ends of your arms. Peer into the mirror and consider the resources between your ears.

What we call an economy is the cumulative product of billions of exchanges among folks like you and folks like me. You have created something I want or need, and I have created something you want or need, and we exchange them. It doesn't all begin with the federal government. It begins with your hands and your head.

The president or Congress do not have the power to feed you or clothe you or shelter you. Arguably they can only get in your way. Again, I am not saying this to scare you. I am saying this to empower you.

If you want to jolt the economy, learn how to make something, and make it. The rest will follow.

A question of rights

Reading this blog in a vacuum, one might conclude I have drifted away from writing of late, when I've just been writing elsewhere. I want to import one post that I tossed into the fray over at Sunni Maravillosa's place in a lively discussion of whether rights really exist or whether they are asserted in a process akin to blind faith:

It seems to me this question of rights boils down to the fact that the only actions I can control are my own. I can persuade or enter into contracts or (if I was someone else) attempt to do it by force, but in the end I can't make you respect my rights or property.

That's why the Zero Aggression Principle is so important to the free life. The more people adopt ZAP, the more likely it is that agreements will be honored and exchanges will be peaceful - or at least nonviolent.

The concept of rights presents a neutral, immutable appeal to a third party in conflicts - if we've agreed on what those rights are, we have something to gauge who's right and wrong. But it requires agreement on the basic principle.

I'm a Christian in part because I believe Jesus asserted ZAP when he said all law is summed up in two statements, one of which is "Love your neighbor as yourself." (You can accept the other statement or not; I do.) I'm a Browncoat in part because I believe in the words Joss Whedon put in Malcolm Reynolds' mouth: "I got no need to beat you; I just want to go my way."

I happen to think we'd all live better lives if we adopted that philosophy, but if I demand it, it won't work. I can't make you do anything. I can only try to persuade.

F—IW

UPDATE: Second link fixed. Thanks Joel!

It was long past time I read Eric Frank Russell's classic novella "And Then There Were None," and if you haven't yet, go do so. Here is one easy way to do it.

A military ship carrying an ambassador of the Terran empire lands on a remote planet that was settled about 400 years ago and hasn't had any contact with the empire since. The ship's mission is to bring the planet into the great imperial fold.

Things go awry from the start, beginning with the farmer who, asked to bring them to his leaders, doesn't seem to understand the concept of a "leader."

First published in the June 1951 issue of Astounding Science Fiction, "And Then There Were None" is a great glimpse at an alternative way of managing human interaction. You may recall (and if you don't here's when I said it) that I thought Ayn Rand copped out in Atlas Shrugged when she justified her superior rational woman blowing away an indecisive minion who couldn't decide whose side he was on. Without giving too much away, Russell offers one of the best explanations I've ever encountered regarding why, six years later in Rand's novel, the oh-so-rational Dagny Taggart committed an irrational act.

The theme of violence vs. nonviolence as a response to tyranny is central to my novel in progress, The Imaginary Revolution. I've hit several roadblocks as I attempt to bring the concept into focus in an entertaining way. Now I see Russell has already walked that path for me. Encountering "And Then There Were None" was like bumping into a fellow who, as I'm trying to thrash a path through thick brush, pulls me aside and shows me the trail through the jungle that he's already cleared.

An election party where nobody came

Well, it's been a quiet week in Freedomville, my hometown ... I sense a disturbance in the Force, or something. It's an uneasiness in a soul that has chosen not to participate in the charade we call a "presidential election." Or the anxiety, if that's the right word, is something other than that.

The discomfort must be something more than resigning myself to the fact that the two branches of the Party have presented the US of A with finalists in the presidential reality show who each proposes to be the dictator of our lives, improving only the efficiency of a safety net woven from chains that purports to protect us from cradle to grave while regulating, licensing or prohibiting nearly every known individual choice or course of action. Maybe it's something as easy as realizing that everyone who was voted off the island was also anxious to be our dictator.

But this is nothing new. Perhaps it's that this is my first "presidential election" since my disillusionment in this process became complete. I have reported to a polling place and voted for the Libertarian Party candidate for four of the last five of these exercises, which gave me some sense of empowerment. I never bought into the "if you vote for a third party, you've wasted your vote" nonsense. If you vote for someone who doesn't share your values or views in any meaningful sense of the words, THEN you've wasted your vote, I have always said. It's not about winning, it's about representation, and if the numbers show your viewpoints aren't representative, your views will be ignored. Or so I believed.

Now it seems clear that my views will be ignored anyway. And so I will join the majority that votes "None of the Above," who is not on the ballot. I have seen unopposed candidates fret because they received only 94 percent of the vote, wondering how they could have disillusioned as many as 6 percent. So I know the fewer people vote, the more it will get the attention of our rulers. The fewer people vote, the more it will trouble good men and women.

The dilemma is it's also true that the fewer people vote, the easier it is for a devious minority to maintain control, because all you need is 50.1 percent of a small minority to win the election. That's a motivation for voting for the "lesser of two evils." But the better choice between two evils is still evil. The only sane choice is neither, not one or the other.

I know and understand all of this, so why do I sense a disturbance in my heart? I wonder if it's something as basic as finally understanding to the core that the extent to which I am free has nothing to do with politics, nothing to do with the chains so many freely choose. The extent to which I am free is up to me. The extent to which I have not been free was my responsibility. Freedom is not something granted by rulers; it's an "unalienable right" that I have given away.

How do I get back my freedom? First I understand that I never lost control of it, I merely chose not to be free. How do I get back my freedom? I take it back, gently but firmly. One small step is to note that neither Barack Obama nor John McCain represents me in any way, shape or form. Freedom is not about having the right ruler. Oh, wait, yes it is. Freedom is understanding that I am the boss of me.

Fool me once, shame on you ... fool me a hundred times ... ?

Having once been a rabid attack-dog Republican, I am tempted to give Bob Barr the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he really has rethought his positions about the war on drugs, gay rights, freedom of religion, and all of the other areas where he once was as libertarian as Barack Obama or John McCain ... as John Roberts notes ...

Though he has softened somewhat with regard to the drug policy reforms so popular with Libertarian activists, for instance, Barr was once an ardent critic of medical marijuana and an over-the-top advocate for militarizing the "war on drugs."

Barr has also been a big-government man when it comes to restricting abortion rights (he's 100 percent anti-choice), marriage rights (he sponsored the Defense of Marriage Act) and freedom of religion (he once pressured the Pentagon to bar the practice of Wicca in the military).

When Barr was booted from Congress in 2002, Libertarians ran television ads condemning him.

Now he's their candidate.

Now, 10-12 years ago I may have held some positions that seem foolish to me now, so I will not spend any time questioning whether Bob Barr is sincere or just looking for a side road to the White House. After all, the next Libertarian presidential candidate to win the election will be the first one, so either he's sincere or he's insane enough to commit political suicide.

But there are some crystal clear facts about life. One of them is that states exist to suppress individual rights, even those states based in documents that assert states are created to "secure those rights." That's why 18th-century individualists insisted on another document that spells out some of the rights that the state is not allowed to suppress. That even seems to work from time to time, although most rulers feel free to ignore those documents with impugnity.

Another crystal clear fact is that going to a polling place operated by an oppressive state lends a false sense of legitimacy to that state. Barr is welcome to campaign for president, and he certainly offers a better statist alternative to those offered by the two branches of the major political party. Again, though, the least of three evils is still evil.

Liberty will be advanced outside of this political process, which has been corrupted beyond recognition. Freedom will be advanced one nonviolent individual act at a time, including the act of rejecting the charade that free people choose our leaders. Free people lead our own lives.

Once upon a time we thought of choosing representatives to represent our political views in the halls of government, but those representatives inevitably confused themselves with rulers. Give it a try if you wish, Mr. Barr. Just don't come to this corner looking for aid or comfort.

B.W.'s Book Report: Listen, Little Man!

OK, when both Jomama and Sunni M highly recommend something, it's worth a look. The glimpses they (and the link that quotes a big portion) gave into Wilhelm Reich's book Listen, Little Man! were enticing enough that I used overnight shipping to buy (if the computer is to be believed) the last copy Amazon.com had in stock the other day.

Having now digested the full 128-page tome, I found Herr Reich to be a little carried away with his own personal greatness, and the persecutions he suffered along with it. But in between examples of how little people failed to recognize his genius and chose a lowlier road than the one they'd find if they'd only trust his insights, Reich has some extremely important things to say about the greatness within each soul that could be tapped if we only dare reach for it.

Written in 1946 — or perhaps written over three years beginning in 1943 — the book is described on the back cover as "a great physician's quiet talk to each of us, the average human being, the Little Man." Heck with this "quiet talk" nonsense; Reich slaps the reader upside the head with a 2 by 4, grabs him by the lapels and gives a good shake.

Reading between the lines, little men and women have taken their toll on the author, who seems to have developed a theory of healthy living that involves a more free application of sexuality than was common in the early 20th century. And he really lays it on thick over some now-forgotten personal slights and abuses. "I understand your cancer, and your little Health Commissioner forbids me to experiment on mice. I teach your physicians to understand your case, and your Medical Association denounces me to the police." From time to time it becomes, "Jeez, Will, give it a rest and get to the point."

But his point — whoa.

Take his medical theories with however many grains of salt you like — even embrace them if they make sense to you — but pay careful attention to how Reich describes the person living a healthy life. At points in this book I was ready to set it down and say, "Enough!" as he seems to come from the school of education that rips the student to metaphorical shreds before rebuilding him in the teacher's image. I felt like I was being exposed to a drill sergeant ("Listen up, maggots!") as Reich describes how little men through the ages have made the wrong choices and led nations and societies into the gutter. But way back in the distance is a sense that Reich's harshness stems from the frustration of someone who knows how great this life could be if "little men" would simply take responsibility for their personal fates and live free in every sense of the world.

And from time to time, especially at the end, he brings that sense from the background onto the front burner. See what he sees as a healthy lifestyle:

You'll have a good, secure life when being alive means more to you than security, love more than money, your freedom more than public or partisan opinion; when the mood of Beethoven's or Bach's music becomes the mood of your whole life — you have it in you, little man, somewhere deep down in a corner of your being; when your thinking is in harmony, and no longer in conflict, with your feelings; when you've learned to recognize two things in their season: your gifts and the onset of old age; when you let yourself be guided by the thoughts of great sages and no longer by the crimes of great warriors: when you cease to set more store by a marriage certificate than by love between man and woman; when you learn to recognize your errors promptly and not too late, as you do today; when you pay the men and women who teach your children better than politicians; when truths inspire you and empty formulas repel you ...

There's much to be found in Listen, Little Man! about the individual who discovers that his worth is defined within himself, not by adherence to a state or by allegiance and blind obedience to "bigger men." "You yourself are your own liberator," he says early on as he's getting warmed up. Reich loses me a bit as he bemoans his travails against some of the littler little men, even sounds a bit whiney in spots, but his tract redeems itself with his message of individual worth and the joy that could come to every man and woman, if we just weren't so afraid of it.

This one's going to stick with me for a while. Let me be the third this week to say it: Highly recommended!

The Enemy is Always the State

Lew Rockwell has a nice summary of why opposing statism seems to make people wander all over the political spectrum, as "both sides" of our current political debate embrace statism in all its ugly power and glory.

The link led me to the Web home of the Ludwig von Mises Institute, where Tuesday's lead article is "The Government's Statistical Whopper of the Year," as Robert P. Murphy deciphers how — believe it or no — the U.S. government reported that gasoline prices fell 4.6 percent in April. No, really. And I took Rockwell's advice to read "Our Enemy the State" by A.J. Nock and downloaded the short book off the Mises literature site.

This fun little excursion is all courtesy of Ender's Review, Tom Ender's weekly digest of "Web articles of likely interest to individualists found during the preceding week." I almost never get through the whole list because I end up on side excursions like the one described above. There doesn't seem to be enough time to find and post links to all of the good writing about the state and the individual that is written every week, so I'm grateful for Tom's weekly effort. I don't think I've mentioned that enough, so I just did.

Running with the mute-ants

OK, for a while I've been less prolific and wondering if I was just too busy with the day job and such, or if something else was going on. Then I found myself nodding in agreement with much of what Taran Jordan is experiencing ... some excerpts:

It’s an odd thing, but for months now, I have felt very little desire to speak out on issues, or get into debates with sheeple. Even, or maybe especially, about freedom ...

Now, too, when I hear of abuses, I don’t get het up with anger or outrage anymore either, the way I used to. (And it was that energy of fed-upness and violated justice that motivated a lot of my writing.) I do often feel for the victims, if true innocent victims they are.

But the feeling I now experience toward the perpetrators is a cross between indifference and quiet resistance. And I think it’s that quiet aspect that has me not talking or writing about my thoughts, concerns or plans.

It’s a struggle within, because one voice in my head says, “But these issues are vital and should get some exposure, and you can give them that!” The other voice, though, counters, “Those who care at this point are already aware. The rest aren’t interested in being preached at by you. Let reality educate them, as it soon will.”

No coincidence, then, that last week, heavy into this mood, I decided to reread Atlas Shrugged.

I can't say I feel exactly the same — I'm not ready to do the gulch thing and I continue my plans to race into print this summer to speak out with a collection of thoughts called Refuse to be Afraid — but I feel Lightning's pain, if pain is the right word to describe it.

The voice of freedom these days is a lonely voice crying in a wilderness. The statists who declare man and woman to be herd animals have long held the upper hand, to the extent that we who seek to live on a little land in a wooded area find ourselves fighting a nagging feeling that we are guilty of a selfish something called "urban sprawl." Why would a good little human want to separate from the herd and inhabit an area larger than a comfortable little lot surrounded by other good little humans, after all?

But then there's the bigger nagging feeling, the one that feels like The Real Me yearning to break out, the one that says man and woman are not dogs, not pack animals. You cannot define me by the color of my skin, my sex, the ethnic history of my family, the region of the world I have chosen to inhabit, or even the philosophy I have have adapted and adopted as my own, because there has been no one quite like me in the history of the world and never will be again — I am, in short, a unique individual, and you cannot lazily define me with words like "white man" or "libertarian" or "journalist" or "Scandinavian American" — and this is the most important part: Every soul I encounter today is just as unique, even (perhaps especially) those whose eyes are glazed over and are running with a pack, and I cannot dismiss them as anything less than a distinct individual.

Atlas Shrugged portrays a nightmare world where the herd mentality has won the day, but those chosen as shepherds have had enough of perfectly capable humans expecting them to be sheep herders, and they separate themselves, leaving those who believe themselves part of a herd to fend, unsuccessfully, for themselves.

In the memorable dystopian TV fantasy The Prisoner, our protagonist screams, "I am not a number, I am a free man!" even as he is forcibly kept captive in a jolly village and always addressed as Number Six — we never learn his given name. I understand Taran's feeling of quiet resistance, just as I understand the gulchers in Atlas Shrugged, but I don't think her weariness is indifference. I think it's just weariness. Rest a while, mute-ant friend, and see what comes next. Seems like for all this quiet, a novel is chugging its way along the rails of your soul, for example, a novel that addresses many of these themes — so you're not as indifferent as you might believe. You're just quiet, and resisting.

Funny thing about freedom, though: It's hard to stay quiet. You know everyone has a Real Me screaming to get out, and sooner or later you have to get up, run to the window and urge people to start yelling. We are free men and women, after all.

B.W. At The Movies: Horton Hears A Who

Sometimes when you least expect it, you find a message about how Authority can't be trusted and maybe a little individualism — dare one say anarchy? — ain't the worst thing in the world.

Horton Hears A Who can't quite decide how far it wants to go with this individualism stuff — after all, the main antagonist is a kangaroo who "pouch-schools" her child, and we are intended to see well-intentioned evil in that decision. It sets up her world view as authoritarian, even though the average home-schooling parents are seeking to protect their children from authoritarian government schools.

But there's a strong message in the film about the power of the individual against a wrong-headed authority. The kangaroo in question even does a credible channeling of Hillary Clinton as she exhorts The Village to crush Horton The Individual for The Good of The Children, warning the alternative could be Anarchy!

It's a little muddled in the end. Everyone's learned the important lesson that "a person's a person no matter how small," but we are left with the suggestion that the fools in authority will muddle along as wiser authoritarians as a result. I suppose I shouldn't object too hard — in fairy tales, everyone does live happily ever after. I guess I was just hoping "happily" was defined as not needing those fools in the first place.

On our collective wisdom

For the first time in a long time, I watched the president's State of the Union address, and I was struck by a clever semantic trick he pulled early on, even before he launched into the litany of things he proposes to do to make our lives easier and free the world at gunpoint.

"As Americans we believe in the power of individuals to determine their destiny and shape the course of history. We believe the most reliable guide for our country is the collective wisdom of ordinary citizens. And so in all we do, we must trust in the ability of free people to make wise decisions and empower them to improve their lives for their futures."

In one remarkable sweep of the tongue, Mr. Bush shifted gears from celebrating individualism to asserting statism. It was as simple as 1-2-3.

1. "We believe in the power of individuals to determine their destiny and shape the course of history." This is indeed what Americans once believed, and some of us still do.

2. "We believe the most reliable guide for our country is the collective wisdom of ordinary citizens." The individuals and their wisdom are now a collective, and those who a moment ago each had the power to shape the course of history are now a mass of "ordinary citizens" whose wisdom is rooted in majority rule.

3. "And so in all we do, we must trust in the ability of free people to make wise decisions and empower them to improve their lives for their futures." In all "we" do - "we" referring now not to the ordinary citizens but to those in the room, "we" who have The Power - we must empower "ordinary" people "to improve their lives for the future." In other words, The State is the source of power, and its benevolent dictators must transfer some of that power so we common folk can improve our lives, something (despite the first sentence) we really can't do on our own.

What follows is a long list of ways in which The State must work to improve the lives of "ordinary citizens" - help home "owners" refinance mortgages, make health care more affordable and accessible, reduce the number of high school dropouts, "stop, slow and eventually reduce the flow of greenhouse gases," give federal tax dollars to faith-based charities, save entitlement programs for our children and grandchildren ... oh yes, and export freedom to the world, especially the Middle East, by force if necessary.

These were not the words of someone who believes in the power of individuals to determine their destiny. Nor does anyone in the room believe that. But they want us to believe that they do, and so lip service was given to individuals and then we were quickly diverted to a celebration of individuals who submit their will to the collective. A clever trick, but a trick none the less.

Here is the text for those who may be interested.

B.W.'s Book Report: Atlas Shrugged

When she entered the room, she knew immediately that he had finished reading the book. His eyes surveyed the lines of her dress approvingly, as if remembering his glorious exploration of the underlying body and recognizing its perfection, content in the knowledge that he knew and understood every contour. As he looked around the room, she could tell he saw the furniture, the appliances, the ashtray full of crushed stubs with the telltale dollar sign, in a way he could not have seen fully unless and until he had read and absorbed every page into the core of his being.

"I want you to stand there quietly for a few minutes," he said, without greeting, getting straight to the point, his eyes still meeting hers with an honesty that said, we are equals among equals and human in a way mere humans cannot bear to know. "Because what I have to say must be said completely, and you must hear all of it, because I have earned this and, well, I know I shall never be able to say it again after tonight."

She nodded, granting him the right to make an interminable speech even though she knew what he was going to say, by the way he held his chin, by the panther-like tension in his shoulders, and by the way every mannerism declared he knew who he was and his purpose in being.

"I don't need to tell you I have finished the book, because so much has passed between us that I know you know I know you know I have completed the journey," he began evenly, the smoke from his last cigarette hanging in the air, mingling with the confident assurance of his smile. "It has been an exhilarating trip at that. While walking vicariously in the shoes of Dagny Taggart, Hank Reardan, Francisco Domingo Carlos Andres Sebastián d'Anconia and John Galt, I revisited all those pivotal days of my life when I chose between the excellent and the good-enough, between the very best my mind could offer and the quotidian. I knew with certainty the days when my path diverged from the best my life could be, and I resolved never again to shrink from that path. I resolved that my life would be a celebration of exultation and exaltation, that I would exult in the act of exalting and comprehend the difference between the words.

"However," he said next, and her heart jumped because she knew in the way he hesitated before saying the word that this would be the last time they would speak together. Then, as if to extract the dagger and plunge it once again into her heart, not out of spite but because it represented his highest purpose and, she knew, he knew she knew, he repeated the word before he continued.

"However, I am troubled by the author's conclusions and the dénouement of her fable. Can it truly be that the unclouded mind, seeing reality as fully and clearly as reality truly is, would willingly stand by while those of lesser mind and the practitioners of non-thought lead the world to its inevitable destruction, then triumphantly return to rebuild from the ashes? As these superhuman thinkers and doers walk freely among the lesser lights again after withdrawing their services, do they truly expect that the survivors crawling up from the destruction will welcome them back with open arms, eager to go to work for them and help them build their superior products and exchange value for value and live happily and triumphantly ever after? Perhaps that is why she ends the story before they actually go back.

"It has been said that no matter how successful a workers strike has been, the workers will never gain back the wages and the quality of life they could have been earning while they were gone. In an especially bitter strike, the lingering animosity and loss of trust is never fully overcome, and while the two sides may finally settle and begin to work together again, they are cautious and more wary of each other from that point forward, never quite trusting each other to the extent they did before the strike. How much more wary and untrusting, then, will be the survivors of a strike that was the catalyst of the complete collapse of civilization as they knew it?

"As brilliant as the story was — and I do not deny its brilliance; I have spent every available moment of my leisure time for these three weeks engrossed in the story — in the end I found myself as puzzled as I was by the conclusion of the author's previous novel. In writing that previous book, did she really believe that the power of her philosophy was such that, having heard that philosophy proclaimed, a jury would find a man innocent of a violent act that left a woman injured within an inch of her life? In writing this novel, did she really believe a dying nation was best left to die, and many thousands and millions dying with it, and that those who stood by and permitted that death were best equipped to lead the subsequent rebirth and renewal? Did she really believe that, having heard a dry and scholarly dissertation on the reasons why the best and brightest should stand by and allow civilization's collapse, that the survivors would comprehend and welcome the return of the best and brightest as the opening fanfare of a new and better utopia?

"I find her stories inspiring and thought-provoking, but her end scenarios — if I may use the word — illogical. But I see I may not use that word here."

The gun fit in her hand so naturally that she almost was surprised to find it there, even though she had known she would draw the weapon from the moment she entered the room. Now, she met his gaze and exulted to see the look of peace and comprehension on his face. "Is that all that you wished to tell me?"

"Not quite," he said with an understanding smile. "I found the author a bit too willing to rationalize the initiation of force when her heroes committed violence."

"Her heroes never initiated the use of force," she said quietly. "They only killed in response to the force initiated by others."

"No," he said with calm assurance. "That's not true, especially in the novel's closing pages. For so much of the author's fable, A is A. But her heroes did not wait to use violence until it was their only remaining resort, and therefore it appears to me that A is not A."

"Check your premises."

"I did, and in this case I believe the author checked her own premises at the door and neglected to cash them back in. I believe that after all of that struggle and all of that angst, Dagny Taggart, John Galt and their friends jumped the shark. And that is why I am finished here."

"Yes, you are," she said, holding her voice steady and emotionless as she struggled for control of her emotions. "I love you and all that you have been to me."

Calmly and impersonally, she, who would have hesitated to fire at an animal, pulled the trigger and fired straight at the heart of a man who had wanted to exist without the responsibility of consciousness.

Oddly, she did not live happily ever after.

About those newsletters

I suppose this is a positive sign; the Ron Paul phenomenon has gained enough momentum and attention that someone has bothered to dig up some dirt on him. At the heart of the controversy are newsletters that went out under Paul's name, especially in the early 1990s, with some seriously racist and homophobic kinds of stuff in them. Stuff like:

Order was only restored in L.A. when it came time for the blacks to pick up their welfare checks three days after rioting began.

and

I miss the closet. Homosexuals, not to speak of the rest of society, were far better off when social pressure forced them to hide their activities.

Paul says this crap was vomited out by a "ghostwriter" and folks like Wendy McElroy seem to have a clear idea who that ghostwriter is, urging him to come forward and accept responsibility for these words. Problem is, what if he's still a close associate of the congressman? Then we're not talking about the early 1990s, we're talking about now.

Does the ghostwriter still believe such horrid stuff, and does Paul still condone it? If so, they have failed a more basic litmus test for libertarianism than Walter Block's.

There's no place whatsoever in libertarian thought for clumping people into groups by skin color, religion, creed or any other criterion. Either you recognize the worth of every individual or you don't. As Paul himself said in his interview with Wolf Blitzer, racism is a collectivist notion because racists see people in groups.

He does a nice job in the interview with Blitzer of reassuring supporters that he repudiates those statements - Blitzer himself admits that after numerous interviews and other contacts with Paul, the old newsletters caught him by surprise. I don't believe Paul believes that garbage now, if he ever did.

However, Paul's response to questions about the origins of those writings has been pretty typical of a member of the political class, and that sure doesn't bode well. "I was busy," "I never read that stuff," "I don't know who wrote it, but the editor might"? If a newsletter was going out with my name and face blazoned across the top of the front page, I'd make damn sure the contents reflected what I believe.

The lesson in all of this is that if you place your faith in one person, especially one politician, to change your world, you will inevitably be disappointed. Ron Paul is still the only person among the current crop of presidential candidates worth giving a damn about, but he's not a savior - far from it.

Liberty is not something imposed by presidents or any other government officials. Their purpose is to determine the extent to which our liberty will be curtailed - Paul represents the light touch of the slave master's whip, and in that sense he is a far better alternative than any of the other candidates. If you yearn for freedom, you'll find it by the efforts of your hands, your mind and your heart, not by turning the reins of your life over to another person.

P.S. to lewlew - Yep, I noticed. Thanks, and I'm honored to be asked! I'll tackle that matter next.

Remember voting as an individual decision?

Bottom line: There are compelling reasons to vote for Ron Paul in the Republican primary. He's the only viable candidate in years talking about limited government and fiscal responsibility. I'm not going to criticize any libertarian or even an anarcho-capitalist who goes back on a pledge never to vote again.

Bottom line: There are compelling reasons not to vote for Ron Paul or anyone else ever again. The lesser of two evils is still evil. The use of government force by a comparative libertarian is still the use of government force. I'm not going to criticize any libertarian or anarcho-capitalist who takes a pass on Ron Paul.

While Paulistas are wasting time chastising and therefore alienating the small community of libertarians who have not been won over to the cause, they're missing opportunities to work on the vastly larger community of Republicans.

UPDATE: I switched the post time from AM to PM to sneak it to the top and highlight the comments.

And now it's going to be 2008

Listening to: Uncle Warren's Attic #46

"Francisco, what's the most depraved type of human being?"
"The man without a purpose."

*****

"I don't like the thing that's happening to people, Miss Taggart."
"What?"
"I don't know. But I've watched them here for 20 years, and I've seen the change. They used to rush through here, and it was wonderful to watch, and it was the hurry of men who knew where they were going and were eager to get there. Now they're hurrying because they are afraid. It's not a purpose that drives them, it's fear. They're not going anywhere, they're escaping. And I don't think they know what it is that they want to escape. They don't look at one another. They jerk when brushed against. They smile too much, but it's an ugly kind of smiling: It's not joy, it's pleading. I don't know what it is that's happening to the world." He shrugged. "Oh well, who is John Galt?"

*****

Thanks for visiting this little spot on the Web from time to time. May your new year be one of purpose.

Abolish slavery instead

Listening to: "Thunder Road," Bruce Springsteen

Walter Block has a few words for libertarians who have been unable to bring themselves to actively support Ron Paul for president. It's interesting to hear what Block thinks of us, but in terms of a response (having recently read The Fountainhead), I have to go with Howard Roark's memorable response to Ellsworth Toohey:

Toohey: Why don't you tell me what you think of me? In any words you wish. No one will hear us.
Roark: But I don't think of you.

Sunni Maravillosa, who is among those called out by Block in his essay, has more patience with the guy and has a detailed rebuttal. Block lost me long before he explained why voting for Paul would be a valid defensive act:

Suppose a slave master allows his slaves to choose between Overseer Goody, who has a very light and judicious touch with the whip, and Overseer Baddy, who never met a bloody back he didn’t like. The slaves take up the master on his offer, and vote for Goody. Are they thereby demonstrating support for slavery, for goodness sakes? No; they are only registering a preference for Goody over Baddy.

This is a perfect analogy. We have more than a dozen overseer wannabes who are itching to bloody backs, and one guy who promises "a very light and judicious touch with the whip."

Don't you see, Walter? He's still going to use the whip.

I admire Paul and, if we have to have a Great Ruler, acknowledge he is the best of the lot. But voting to give someone the whip is not an option for a free man.

Freedom time

I can't remember who I heard say this first, or when, but I think it was sometime in the mid-1980s when there were a whole bunch of movies involving time travel - or perhaps the movies all had an even narrower plot device, one where it would be hard to explain how so many similar movies were made at the same time, like the more recent glut of movies about penguins.

"It's just penguin time," the person would say. His theory was that forces in the universe build up to create an irrepressible need for penguin movies, for example - so they all get made.

It seems like it's freedom time. And maybe it's simply a reaction to the Ron Paul phenomenon, if it's really big enough to be called a phenomenon. I keep running into blog entries and other essays that come to the conclusion that we beat our heads against a brick wall by making the state's inexorable attack on freedom our focus - instead the focus should be on remembering that freedom begins and ends in our hearts and heads.

I was way overdue finding dare2befree's take on this, "Freedom - what are we waiting for?" A fragment of this gem:

WTF are we waiting for? What do you personally want to be freer in your life? What is preventing you from doing that? What would make things more enriching for your family? TPTB will never tell you that it is ok to live your life as you see fit. Go ahead, hold your breath until they do. They don’t give a shit about anything except more power, more control, more minions to bully. Why wait for them to give you permission to do what you want to do?

Sunni, today, draws attention to a brilliant cartoon that Dale produced over at Anarchy in Your Head, which opens up the same thoughts.

And I love and say amen to how dare2befree finishes:

I refuse to allow anyone to scare me into being a good little sheep anymore. I plan to live the life I want — not someone else’s version of what I should do with my life.

And of course my mind keeps coming back to the song I posted in my comment to Sunni:

Take my love, take my land,
take me where I cannot stand -
I don't care, I'm still free ...

Ten essential books

I walked into Target for cat food and dog food, but of course I always browse through the bread and circuses. Fun to see Sandra Bullock's sweet movie While You Were Sleeping is down to $5.50 and I almost bought it, but seeing as I own it on VHS and the VCR(s) still work fine, what would be the point?

But I got curious passing the paperback aisle, and I walked down to see if they had any "classics" on sale. Target's not the first place you think of when you're jonesing for literature. But sure enough, they had one row of one rack - 10 books in all - and the selection was so interesting that I wrote 'em down.

Little Women - Louisa May Alcott
Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Fahrenheit 451 - Ray Bradbury
Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Animal Farm - George Orwell
To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
1984 - George Orwell
Catcher in the Rye - J.D. Salinger
The Hobbit - J.R.R. Tolkein
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn - Mark Twain

(Odd that the authors were in alphabetical order but they split up the two Orwell books.)

Needless to say, it's thrilling to see three warnings against totalitarianism among their 10 classics - and all of these books have strong individuals in them. I suppose some sort of sales research led to these particular books landing on that precious shelf space - but if so, that's a very good sign. Even in this era of collectivism, classic books celebrating the individual are still selling.

B.W. At The Movies: The Fountainhead

My mind keeps lingering over what seems to me to be the single glaring difference between the novel and the film The Fountainhead: Big Newspaper Publisher Gail Wynand's final fate. After his last conversation with Randian Man Howard Roark, the camera lingers in Wynand's office to view something that does not occur in the book. I have found that the change was made to accommodate the notions of Hollywood censors of the era, but it was such a jarring change that it cinched my opinion: Not surprisingly, the film does not live up to the novel. Wynand's character is deeply flawed, and while he considers this action when we first meet him in the book, his exit from the flick is a decision that would be out of character by the end, in my humble opinion. Strike three.

Strikes one and two are the performances of lead actors Gary Cooper and Patricia Neal. Ayn Rand created characters who might best be described as eccentric when compared to us common folk - deep thinkers, lovers of the best that humanity can create, disdainful of compromise. But there's a word Rand throws into the mix that is utterly lacking in the performances of Cooper and Neal: exaltation. As cynical as they might be of the collective mentality that was infecting the world in Rand's time, they loved life.

When a man entered [Stoddard's Temple of the Human Spirit], he would feel space molded around him, for him, as if it had waited for his entrance, to be completed. It was a joyous place, with the joy of exaltation that must be quiet. It was a place where one would come to feel sinless and strong, to find the peace of spirit never granted save by one's own glory.

Howard Roark and Dominique Francon as portrayed by Cooper and Neal are not in touch with the joy of living or the exaltation of being free spirits. Their faces reflect the constipated angst of people who know they're right but haven't been able to convince the world otherwise. The "real" Roark especially never wasted a moment worrying about what other people thought of him. Cooper has a couple of moments where he conveys that aura, but often he seems angry and/or troubled, emotions that are mostly absent in the man Rand created.

In the "Making of" featurette that accompanies the DVD, it's said that once Cooper saw the whole movie in context, he wished he had delivered The Big Speech at the end in a different manner. No kidding. Cooper runs through it like an oration that he'd memorized during a long sleepless night; Roark would have spoken from the heart, eyes and body flashing with energy and virility. And, after watching the movie, I was more convinced than ever that a real-life jury would send this guy to prison. It's a shame, too, because in movies like Meet John Doe, Cooper has proved he can play a man of ideals and individuality who's comfortable in his own skin. He just didn't pull it off this time.

It was an interesting exercise to watch the film just a few days after finishing the novel. Rand the screenwriter did a notable job of telescoping her sprawling landscape into a portrait that strikes the notes she considered most important. Still, Leonard Maltin gives the film 2 1/2 stars and calls it "ambitious but confused." I can't disagree with him.