The Preventables and the Deplorables

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Ayn Rand says somewhere that you don’t understand a specific concept or thing until you can state the general class of objects to which it belongs, and you don’t understand a general class until you can identify some of its specific constituents.

She’s right, of course. The problem is that people can, and commonly do, get the specifics in the wrong classes.

We all know Democrats who meet a Republican and immediately put him or her in the class of Bigots and Dumb Asses. And we all know Republicans who meet a Democrat and immediately put this nice, unoffending person in the class of Destroyers of the Republic. When Democrats or Republicans encounter a libertarian, you can see it going on, right behind their eyeballs — the classification process effortlessly identifying “nice young person” as “good example of the Naïve and Feckless Class.”

Whatever the gunman’s motives, it is difficult to see any way of preventing this kind of thing from happening again, except by holding all public events in a bank vault.

This way of thinking can damage the thinker, as it did when Hillary Clinton naively and fecklessly put many of her potential voters in the “basket of deplorables.” More often, it damages society at large.

We live in a time and place when a vast range of specific problems are automatically put in the class of Things that Can Be Prevented, which is considered equivalent to the class of Things that Should Be Prevented, No Matter What.

The latest example is the horrible massacre at Las Vegas. Whatever the gunman’s motives, it is difficult to see any way of preventing this kind of thing from happening again, except by holding all public events in a bank vault. But before the victims’ blood could be wiped from the streets, talk turned to the question of how to, in effect, construct the bank vault.

I hope that means of putting cancer, insanity, and sheer stupidity in the Can Be Prevented category will ultimately be discovered, but they haven’t been discovered yet. And before you discover a means of prevention, your attempts at prevention are bound to be both feckless and destructive. In fact, if we keep going in this way, we will soon be unable to think, because the only classes of concepts we will have in our brains will be (A) The Preventables and (B) The Deplorables who “refuse” to prevent them.




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Anthem: Third Year and Growing

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On July 10–13, over 2,500 attendees, 150 speakers, and 100 exhibitors filled the convention hall at Planet Hollywood in Las Vegas. The event was FreedomFest, which the Washington Post has called "the greatest gathering of libertarians in the world." One of the most popular features of FreedomFest is the Anthem Libertarian Film Festival, now in its third year and truly growing into its own.

The theater at Planet Hollywood provided the perfect venue for this year’s film festival, with comfortable seating for 250 people. Nevertheless, many of the documentaries hosted standing-room-only crowds as FreedomFest attendees thronged to watch the films. "I could go listen to someone talk about the same subject," one viewer said, "but in a film you can see a wide variety of people talking about the topic, along with music, historical clips, and a great story arc." Many people watched every film at the festival.

First-time filmmaker Cyrus Saidi won the FreedomFest Grand Prize for 2013 with his short narrative L1ttl3 Br0th3r, which tells the story of a Nobel Peace Prize nominee who demonstrates extraordinary courage in order to reveal the evil nature of a totalitarian dictator. Big Brother is watching, we know . . . but, according to this film, so is Little Brother!

"This film is the perfect precursor to our theme for next year, 'Is Big Brother Here?'" said FreedomFest producer Mark Skousen in awarding the $2,500 prize to "L1ttl3 Br0th3r” for demonstrating excellence in filmmaking and libertarian ideals.

An Iranian who immigrated to Canada with his mother when he was 10, Saidi described America as a place of hope as he participated in a panel on free speech at the festival. "This is a very unexpected honor," he admitted in accepting his prize. "As a Canadian-Iranian who really loves America — I will be moving here in about six months — being at this event for the last three days has made me really hopeful about the future of this country and the fact that there are people who really care about what I care about, which is freedom."We expect to see other important works from this fine filmmaker in the future.

Most of Anthem’s documentaries highlighted the unintended consequences of a new kind of war: a war of ideas. Their focus was on the ideas involved in a literalwar between nations (Post Lebanon), a war against business (The Last Week: How Lawsuits Doomed an American Icon, about the demise of the company that manufactured those ubiquitous red gas cans), wars against personal liberty (Exiled from Vanderbilt and Act of Terror), the war against conservatives (Hating Breitbart), and the war against drugs (America’s Longest War). These were some of our strongest documentaries ever. They are insightful — and inciteful.

Libertarian films are about choice, opportunity, and knocking down obstacles. They demonstrate the power of persuasion over the force of authority.

One of my favorite films, Rebel Evolution, directed by Anna Zetchus Smith, interviews half a dozen political activists, including Ted Hayes and Bill Ayers, and traces their evolution from leftist to libertarian (well . . . Bill Ayers doesn't quite make it to libertarian. But we see a much softer, more thoughtful side of him in these interviews). What I loved about this film is how it demonstrates the power of persuasion over force. We all see the same problems in the world; where we differ is in how to solve those problems. I love to see people move from "Somebody oughtta . . ." to "We can fix this ourselves."

One of the most popular films was a seven-minute documentary called I, Pencil, directed by Nick Tucker. It’s based on the pamphlet by the same name, written several decades ago by Leonard Read, creator of the Foundation for Economic Education, the first libertarian thinktank. The pamphlet describes the process of making a pencil and explains that no single indvidual could make something as inexpensive and ubiquitous as a pencil. Through the magic of the free market, however, hundreds of people all over the world cooperate to provide the rubber, graphite, redwood, aluminum, and machinery necessary to create a humble writing instrumentthat can be sold for a quarter. Using gorgeous graphics, the film brings this simple story to life for a new generation. It won the prize for Best Short Documentary.

Libertarians always like to get into the conversation, and Anthem provides that opportunity through Q&A sessions with the filmmakers and formal panels following many of the films. Panels this year included "The Erosion of Free Speech," "Laissez Faire Economics," "Inside the Federal Reserve," "The Unintended Costs of the War on Drugs," "What You Eat Can Cure and Prevent Cancer," and "The Future of Libertarian Filmmaking." Motion Picture Institute Director Adam Guillette provided a detailed, informative panel on "Advice from a Libertarian Film Producer" with MPI fellows Ted Balaker and Naomi Brockwell adding specific suggestions.

Another timely and intelligent film offered a history of the Federal Reserve. Directed by economist Jim Bruce, Money for Nothing: Inside the Federal Reserve won the prize for Best Documentary Feature and will be released in select theaters around the country, beginning in September.

What makes a film “libertarian”? It’s not about overthrowing the government, and it’s not about the Tea Party. Libertarian films are about choice, opportunity, and knocking down obstacles. They demonstrate the power of persuasion over the force of authority. Libertarian films often point out the unintended consequences of government intervention, but they are just as likely to present a protagonist’s personal struggle for self-expression. They show us how to make the world a better place simply by making one's own life better.

Filmmaker Sean Buttimer said, “Being a libertarian filmmaker comes with its own set of complications, particularly concerning reception. Anthem provides more than just a showcase for niche films . . . it's an outlet for like-minded individuals to network in an industry that is generally dominated by hostile kingmakers."

Bob Bowdon, director of the award-winning “The Cartel,” added, “Many of the people who run traditional film festivals seem to be ideologically hostile to the concepts of free markets, capitalism and individual liberty, even though it's those very principles which have given our country the wealth to afford creative pursuits such as filmmaking. Fortunately, those biases against free enterprise do not exist at the Anthem Film Festival — one reason it's become such a successful event in just a few short years.”

Following the awards ceremony, Anthem celebrants danced to the sounds of the Pink Flamingos, an interactive band specializing in golden oldies and audience interaction, not only with great music but also with beach balls in the air, bubble wrap on the floor, blowup guitars on the stage, and even a volleyball net dividing the dance floor. As one filmmaker said with glee, "Where else can you play beach volleyball with Steve Forbes?" Anthem was the place to be July 10–13. Join us in Las Vegas July 9–13 for Anthem 2014 and another great lineup of libertarian films.


Editor's Note: The author does not mention one of the most interesting events of the Anthem festival, the sneak preview of a documentary "Downwinders," about the effects of above-ground nuclear testing, during the 1950s and 1960s, on the people of several western states. The memory of the bomb tests has almost vanished, except among those who may have been victimized by them. The film tells their story, but it does more: it provides a remarkable view of the astonishing cultural changes that have happened in America during the past half-century. The director of "Downwinders" is Tim Skousen, son of the author. – Ed.



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Americana, Boom and Bust

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Making a documentary is a lot like planting a seed you find in the yard; you don't know what you're going to get until after you start filming. When director Lauren Greenfield began filming The Queen of Versailles, real estate was at its height as an investment, and timeshare mogul David Siegel was a billionaire. He and his engineer turned model turned beauty queen turned trophy wife Jackie were building the largest private home in America: 90,000 square feet, 30 bathrooms, two sweeping formal staircases leading to the pillared ballroom, and more bedrooms than Jackie could count.

What could anyone possibly need with 90,000 square feet of house, you might well ask. Well, you have to put the kids' ice skating rink somewhere, right? And maybe someday they'll even take up skating . . . That was the story Greenfield expected to tell. It isn’t quite the story that she ended up with.

At the start, the Siegels were on top of the world as they posed for photographs and preened for their interviews. Siegel’s Westgate Resorts was the largest timeshare company in the world, and its showcase resort in Las Vegas was eclipsing all the hotels on the Strip. Donald Trump complained that he couldn't sleep at night because the Westgate logo shone into his penthouse at the Trump Hotel. David and Jackie both came from humble beginnings, and both were proud of the lifestyle they had come to enjoy: a world full of chauffeured limousines, private jets, celebrity parties, and an overabundance of stuff.

But having "stuff" is not the same as having class. The Siegels’ dream home was patterned (sort of) after Louis XIV's palace at Versailles, but there is nothing regal or even noble about the Siegels themselves. Let's face it: anyone who lives with dog poop on the carpets or takes the limousine to McDonald's is trashy, not classy. Jackie's painfully gigantic breast implants are symbolic of their lifestyle as a whole: overdone and in your face.

The Siegels seem like nice enough people, but I have friends who live in a trailer park who have more class than they do. The film provides a revealing look at this family of ordinary people living in an extraordinary home with unseemly amounts of money to blow on themselves. It's funny, it's shocking, it's sad — and it's fascinating.

A timeshare provides a way of selling the same property 52 times. The purchasers buy one week at a resort and can use that week every year for the rest of their lives, and their children's lives for that matter, as long as the timeshare resort is still operating (which can become a bit iffy). If you get tired of vacationing in that spot, you can trade your week for a timeshare at a resort in another location. On the surface it seems attractive: timeshare resorts are generally nicer and more personal than motels, and it seems like it will save money to own a vacation place rather than rent a room at a hotel. But the purchasers still have to pay "maintenance fees" when they use the timeshares, as well as monthly mortgage payments, since most people just put 10% down when they buy. These "free" vacations get pretty expensive.

Jackie's painfully gigantic breast implants are symbolic of their lifestyle as a whole: overdone and in your face.

So how did the Siegels sell all those timeshares? You can't cheat an honest man, but you can sucker a greedy one. Timeshare operators bait their hooks with the promise of free stuff: free Disney tickets, free Vegas shows, free dinners, free hotel rooms. Like the little fish who thinks he can nibble around the bait and avoid the hook, these potential clients arrive at the timeshare table thinking — knowing! — that they will just spend three hours listening to a spiel in exchange for hundreds of dollars worth of goods. No way are they going to buy anything. But the timeshare sharks know exactly what kind of bait to use for the fish they have in the tank: the ones who feed on “good deals.” So that's how they position their sales marketing — as a very good deal. Taking advantage of the sellers, almost. Very few couples emerge from a timeshare office without a contract — and a mortgage — for a lifetime of vacations.

Of course, the sales reps don't want to think of themselves as predatory sharks. So Siegel gives them a different spiel. He baits them with statistics showing how going on family vacations regularly saves lives and marriages. He conveniently ignores statistics showing that consumer debt strangles families and destroys the same lives and marriages. The thing is, Siegel seems to believe his own statistics, citing the thousands of people who earn a living because of his empire. One would expect him to have contempt for the people he suckers, but he seems genuinely to believe himself when he insists, "I save lives." If he's a shark, he has convinced himself that he is a nurse shark, dosing his patients with the healing balm of a week in Las Vegas or Orlando every year.

Then — with unforeseen effects on the documentary — came the fall of 2008, and with it the fall of the economy in general and of real estate in particular. Suddenly the easy money that Siegel's company had relied on dried up. Without mortgages, new clients could not purchase the timeshares. His existing clients could not keep up with their own mortgage payments. His employees went from the sales table to the collections department. It was not a happy time for anyone at the company, and it shows on their faces as they call clients to ask for payments.

The Siegels got caught in the same overextended net, and found themselves unable to keep up with their own mortgage payments. At the height of his success, David employed 6,000 people (19 of whom were maintaining his house and nannying his children). He needed a constant stream of sales to service all those salaries. But when mortgage money dried up, so did sales. In the post-2008 interviews, he is pensive and withdrawn, no longer the gregarious host. "I never took anything off the table," he recalls. "I put it all into the business."

Even more damning is his admission about the lake property that he and his wife once owned free and clear in pricey Isleworth, an exclusive community in Orlando with the likes of Tiger Woods and Shaquille O'Neal as neighbors. "I paid cash to build our house," he laments, referring to the 26,000-square-foot house where they lived while Versailles was being built. "Then I borrowed against it to expand the business." Siegel did not erect a legal wall between his company and his personal holdings, as wise business owners do. He foolishly did not realize that the house you live in is not an investment. It is a consumer item. A home.

Soon Siegel needs $400 million to save his Las Vegas resort and $100 million to save the unfinished dream home, Versailles. Jackie starts cutting corners by doing her Christmas shopping at Walmart and letting all but two of the domestic staff go. "If I'd known I was going to have to raise them myself, I wouldn't have had seven children," she says, only half in jest, while cooking a dinner of chicken and corn on the cob. She continues to be a compulsive collector of stuff, but it's mostly cheap stuff. She buys three separate "Operation" games for her kids and gives David "Monopoly" and "Risk" for Christmas. (Odd gifts, when you think about it.)

Meanwhile David blows a gasket and refuses to come to dinner when the front door is left open and the lights are left on; "Don't you people care how much electricity costs?" he complains. But the truth is, Jackie's overspending hasn't caused their financial mess; David's overborrowing has. She might have wasted a million, but he has lost half a billion. Jackie repeatedly says that stress is bringing them closer as a couple, but when David is asked point blank if his marriage is a source of strength to him, he responds bluntly and firmly, "No."

Eventually the bank offers the Siegels a way out: let the Las Vegas resort go, so the company will have enough money to keep operating the rest of its holdings, including the house. But David isn’t willing to give up his $400 million in sunk costs, and he is determined not to let the creditors have the crown jewel of his empire. He's stubborn. Or maybe he just believes in fairy dust. At any rate, he seems a broken man. "Aren't we finished with this yet?" he asks the filmmaker. "We're done. I'm done," he declares softly. It's hard to tell whether he means the film, his business, his family, or himself.

When David is asked point blank if his marriage is a source of strength to him, he responds bluntly and firmly, "No."

The Siegels do not appear in what is probably the most revealing and poignant scene of the film. The Filipina nanny invites the camera into "her" house. It is the children's elegant abandoned playhouse, and she has been given permission to use it as her own hideaway. Furnished with a bed, a dresser, and her personal trinkets, it is the place she goes to be alone and enjoy the quiet. In this film about building the largest single-family home in America, she talks about her simple goal: to provide a house for her father. "Owning a concrete house is so important to people in the Philippines," she explains. She has left her own children behind in the Philippines to raise someone else's children and earn money to send back home to her family. "I tried to give that to my father, but he never got his house. Now he's dead. He is in a tomb. I guess that is his concrete house now," she says with a sigh and a tear of resignation.

The juxtaposition of this nanny's simple dream and the dream house of the self-proclaimed queen of Versailles is simple and powerful. The rise and fall of the Westgate timeshare empire is fascinating. The entire film is funny, sad, and revealing. It's an outstanding documentary, one that Greenfield could scarcely have dreamed of when she started making it. Her creation turned out to be the real “Versailles.”


Editor's Note: Review of "The Queen of Versailles," directed by Lauren Greenfield. Evergreen Pictures, 2012, 100 minutes.



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Pulling Punches

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Friday dawned bright with the promise of everyone’s two favorite parts of any LNC: the party platform and bylaws sessions!

Actually, Friday is about candidates trying to court delegates for the precious tokens they bear. In order to enter the Friday night debate, televised live on C-SPAN, candidates must secure 10% of the available tokens; with 528 delegates registered today, the magic number this year was 53.

Two candidates cleared the bar with ease: Gary Johnson would end up with fully 267, and Lee Wrights had a comfortable 127. But none of the others could muster hardly half so much: the next closest were Carl Person with 28, and Jim Burns with 27. Though either could (and would) collect further tokens and be nominated with a mere 30, neither was close to making the debate—and they were far out in front of the other also-rans. At least nine people received at least one token, and the LP wasn’t actually sure how many candidates they had running for president because a number of those who filed failed to correspond in any other way.

So when the lights came on and the C-SPAN cameras started rolling, the stage looked not totally dissimilar to any other American presidential debate: two speakers, both in suits, one wearing a blue tie, one wearing a red—though the latter, Wrights’ tie, had a bit of patterning mixed in that marked him as marginally the more casual. He would be far more so by debate’s end.

After a 12-year-old sang a histrionic version of the national anthem, the format was explained by moderator David Bergland. About halfway through it became clear that he’d been a poor choice; though both eminent and highly respectable, his questions never strayed from traditional libertarian talking points, and certainly never went into current events such as the student loan debt uprising, or the European Union crackup. What do you expect candidates for the Libertarian Party nomination to say when asked about gun rights, or welfare?

Johnson went first, and delivered an opening statement heavy on constitutional rhetoric, applause lines. He made three promises about what he would carry out in his first year as president: first, submit a balanced budget to Congress in 2013; second, veto any expenditures that outstripped revenue—the first chance of many to bring up his veto record as governor—and finally, throw out entire tax system, abolish the IRS, and establish a national consumption tax. He presented this last point, the much derided Fair Tax, as a means of moving toward zero tax—but many in the room only heard this as a plan to introduce a new tax, period. So any time he brought up the Fair Tax—and he did it seemingly every question, really ramming it down the throats of the audience—it got about the same response as a fart in an elevator.

What do you expect candidates for the Libertarian Party nomination to say when asked about gun rights, or welfare?

Wrights played up his history in the Party: “It feels like I’m at a family reunion.” His first act as president would be to “declare peace” in wars on drugs, poverty, other nations. As he got excited, he got louder and drops deeper into his North Carolina accent, so that at times he is almost incoherent. But when not bellowing, he projected a genial, folksy image, well suited to delivering libertarian one-liners, if not substantive analysis. It was an approach better suited to this crowd than Johnson’s, which aimed beyond the immediate crowd and out to the C-SPAN viewing audience.

The early questions all concerned the candidates’ relationships with libertarianism. Wrights takes us back to family again, “born a libertarian from a libertarian father.” Johnson talks of his journey from Republican governor to Libertarian candidate as his “coming out of the closet.”

What is libertarianism? Wrights: “A life decision. A way of life. Making decisions for yourself rather than allowing them to be made for you by people hundreds or thousands of miles away.” Johnson: “Don’t tell me what to do.” He followed this up with the first and only Ayn Rand quote of the debate.

As Garrett Quinn of Reason noted, this “seems more like an infomercial for libertarianism than a debate between two candidates” for the nomination. Much policy discussion, little back and forth between the candidates even when there’s a chance to engage. On a question about immigration, Johnson adocated “easy as possible work visas,” and expressed a belief that the Fair Tax would solve taxation problems. Wrights could have attacked that, but settled for more talk about visas and the need to open borders.

Social security, bank bailouts, Medicare: meat and potatoes libertarian issues, but hardly ways to distinguish between candidates. The first even veiled attack was in a question on foreign policy, where Johnson nearly went off the rails by saying he wouldn’t be above pre-emptive strikes—back on a little bit by saying that even those would have to go to Congress for approval. Wrights insisted he would never deploy anyone, ever, but didn’t press his advantage much further.

Johnson’s constant mentions of the Fair Tax were impossible for Wrights to ignore forever, though, and finally, an hour and a half into the debate, he took his chance: asked about tax policy, he said, “There is no such thing as a fair tax. We need to abolish the IRS and have no tax at all.” The follow-up, for once, was the right one: how then would we pay for the essential functions of government? Wrights replied that if we got rid of whatever’s not essential—“which is nearly everything”—there wouldn’t be any problems. Johnson, meanwhile, went back to his 43% solution for a balanced budget—a cut that would be unimaginably radical for much of the American public, but wasn’t nearly radical enough for the sort of crowd that shows up at a Libertarian National Convention.

He was on stronger ground whenever he could move his answer toward his experiences as an actually elected executive official in New Mexico. A number of times he came back to his extensive veto record—“possibly more than the other 49 state governors combined”—though it was a bit odd to hear him talk proudly about vetoing a bill solely for being too long, and not having the time to read it. Not as weird, though, as when Wrights stated that the first executive order he would sign as president would be one invalidating all prior executive orders.

In closing, Johnson promised to stay a libertarian “for life”—“I really want this job.” Wrights, for about the hundredth time that evening, found himself once again in agreement with his opponent: “I really want this job too!”

On the whole it seemed a measured win for Wrights. Johnson didn’t entirely adjust to his audience—case in point, the unnecessary forcing of the Fair Tax, which was never going to play to the room. But it wasn’t a total loss for him: at no point did he go beyond the pale, and usually he succeeded in talking himself back to an applause line. And he certainly nailed home his experience in executive office.

Wrights though played the audience much better. Which, of course, makes sense: he’s been in the party and around these people for many more years than Johnson has; if nominees were selected solely for their skills at preaching to the choir, Wrights would take the race going away. But moving beyond the insular and, sad to say, rather small world of the libertarian hardcore, there are many other situations a candidate must navigate successfully. Wrights won tonight’s debate, but in doing so paradoxically showed himself a less rounded candidate than Johnson.

The nighttime brought events hosted by several states, including the justly famous Texas shindig, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it Indiana affair, and a small but spirited crossover by Washington and Mississippi. But, conscious of the early start tomorrow, most called it in early tonight, postponing the true revelry for after the election Saturday night.



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Squabbles and Sorcerors

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As the official business of the 2012 Libertarian Party National Presidential Nominating Convention got underway, there was but one question on everyone’s mind: which group of people will be credentialed and seated as the official delegation from Oregon?

Actually, no, very few people cared about that, especially if you count out those with either a direct stake in the matter, or a fetish for obscurities of parliamentiary procedure. But the LP cannot do without drama, so lacking any at the top of the ballot it was left to the individual delegations to come up with some. Oregon came through in spades.

It’s never a good sign when there’s more than one “central committee” of anything, and Oregon brought two, the Reeves group and the Wagner group. The latter is the one recognized by the Oregon Secretary of State; the former is suing to contest this recognition. It’s of those thoroughly Byzantine LP procedural matters that simmers for months before exploding into floor debate that even Robert’s Rules is hard pressed to contain.

So once the proverbial gavel fell (only proverbial because the actual gavel failed to make it to the convention — the TSA, no joke, would not permit it to be taken on a plane), things got ugly real quick. Between conflicts of interest, backroom (even bedroom) deals, and worst of all violations of parliamentary procedure, there were accusations aplenty. As one of the speakers, himself an involved party, noted when addressing the floor: there are “unclean hands on both sides of the dispute.”

Others settled for the fatal passive — “Mistakes have been made, things could have been handled better.” — before appealing to the LP’s “brand distinction” as the soc-called “party of principle.” “If we can’t follow our own rules,” one asked, “then how can we ask the American people for their votes?” Because of course the fight over who is seated as the Oregon delegation is going to be a campaign killer with the American people in the coming election cycle.

The actual gavel failed to make it to the convention — the TSAwould not permit it to be taken on a plane

Hilariously low stakes aside, this dispute is not one that’s going away. The delegates’ decision to approve the credentials report and seat the Reeves faction, though pragmatically ending a fight that was already holding up the keynote address, leaves the status of the Oregon LP uncertain. Even party insiders cannot yet say which side will win out, or even whether the party’s nominee will be able to appear on the Oregon ballot. But it leaves a bad taste in the mouth — as one Oregon delegate, new to the party and unknowingly swept up in this pissing match, said when addressing the floor: “It seems like the Libertarian Party is more concerned with preserving their own personal power than with promoting liberty in the United States.”

With that kerfuffle momentarily sorted, it was back to the same old, same old with Michael Cloud’s keynote speech. If there’s any libertarian idea you care particularly about, chances are he brought it up — but because he spent his time speaking to every possible issue, there was little focus on any single one of them. “Big government is the disease, and libertarians have the cure” is bumper-sticker stuff, practically defining boilerplate.

The list of the day’s speeches proved hardly more inspirational, showing, if nothing else, that the party is in urgent need of fresh blood. And to be fair, two of the speakers late in the day addressed that in particular: Alexander McCobin, president of Students for Liberty, which gathers college students to talk about liberty; and Andy McKean, founder of Liberty Day, a group that tries to raise constitutional literacy, especially in elementary schools. While neither speech exactly concealed its fundraising aim, it’s encouraging nonetheless to see a block of speech aimed at reaching a generation that, by my own admittedly anecdotal experience, they’re doing none too well with to date.

All of this, though, is a sideshow to the real business of the convention: nominating a presidential candidate. But unlike the higgledy-piggledy 2008, this year’s race is more like a coronation march: Gary Johnson announced his intent early and entered the convention as overwhelming favorite to take the nomination; the only real drama in the process by now is whether the vote will go to a second ballot.

But there are other candidates: enough of them, in fact, that the LP itself isn’t actually sure how many of those who have filed to run for president will actually bother to show up and do so. But what is clear is that the field is nowhere near as packed as in 2008, where nine candidates made the debate stage. Reaching that point requires 30 delegate “tokens” (actually slips of paper); but it’s uncertain whether anyone other than Johnson and Wrights will reach even that total.

So why even bother? I asked Jim Libertarian Burns, a perennial candidate (and yes, that is his legal middle name). For him, it’s about making contacts — even friends — and getting the message out that the Libertarian Party is the best hope that the American people (and by proxy people worldwide) have for true political change. At the same time, the LP as presently constructed is “a pile of crap.” Burns has the hope of at least making the debate stage, which — if it did happen — would be far more as a reward to him for decades within the party, than for any particular strength of his campaign. But rest assured: if by some fluke he were to take the party nomination, he would not accept it, but would instead turn it over to Gary Johnson.

Unlike the higgledy-piggledy 2008, this year’s race is more like a coronation march.

The same would certainly not be true of Lee Wrights, Johnson’s main competitor. Another longtime presence in the LP, Wrights has held a number of roles in past years, including vice chair; without Johnson around, Wrights’ campaign would be something like Andre Marrou’s: essentially, a lifetime service award, and one for which Wrights’ slogan “End All War” (e.g., foreign, Drug, On Poverty) would be adequate

With Johnson, however, Wrights has to focus much more on the issues where he and the ex-governor differ — difficult since they’re both anti-war, anti-drug prohibition, anti-entitlements, etc. So what does he have to offer? First and foremost, many more years of experience in libertarian politics, specifically — indisputable since Johnson just joined six months ago, albeit as a life member. Second, an economic plan that isn’t the Flat Tax. Third, a foreign policy farther in the direction of isolationism than Johnson’s non-interventionism. What would a Wrights campaign look like? A grassroots affair, reaching out to local libertarian candidates in a bid to make use of preestablished media relationships — relationships I’m not sure actually exist, or at least haven’t proven terrifically useful in the past. But the talking points are in place for the debate, and Wrights will at least be on the stage with a chance to make them.

But at this point it would take getting caught in flagrante delicto with half a dozen hookers, several farmyard animals, and a choir of castrati for Gary Johnson to lose the nomination. And while some of the above might be on the menu for other libertarian operatives once they get over to the Strip, there’s precious little vice (other than the obvious one) at the resort itself, even in the room parties that fill the convention’s nighttime hours.

The peculiar pleasure to be found in these hospitality suites is instead that of truly bizarre conversation — something like a perpetual Philip K. Dick story, where one comes to realize, again and again, that there is no firm ground to stand on, no intersection between a particular person’s mind and whatever passes for objective reality in the world around us. For instance, last night I spoke with a younger attendee who was absolutely convinced that the greatest problem facing American politics — nay, politics worldwide — was the workings of sorcerers wielding unimaginable arcane power. He supported a blanket ban on all sorcery, speaking approvingly of nations where such laws were already on the books, such as Iran and Saudi Arabia. More specifically, any presidential candidate worth his salt must be willing to take on the leading nest of sorcerers in America, Yale’s Skull & Bones society, which has been responsible for many assassinations over the past half-century or so, most recently Michael Jackson and Whitney Houston.

After a few drinks and a swing across the dancefloor at Gary Johnson’s bumping election party (LMFAO soundtrack included), I called it a night. Tomorrow: candidates court delegate tokens and try to get on the stage for the C-SPAN televised debate. More anon.



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Liberty Does the LNC!

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Starting Wednesday, May 2, Liberty will be covering the Libertarian National Convention live from the floor of the Red Rock Resort in Las Vegas.

Can Gary Johnson take the nomination, or will the LP throw up another Badnarikian curveball? Who will emerge as VP? What clearly insane person will claim his or her 15 minutes of fame?

Join us here for daily (or sooner) reports on happenings at the LNC, and follow us on Twitter at @libertyunbound for up-to-the-minute bulletins on the stories and myriad oddities of this premier gathering of libertarian luminaries.



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Anthem: The Libertarian Film Festival

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Anthem may not be the first libertarian film festival, but after the success it enjoyed at FreedomFest this month, it may well become the most lasting. With 30 outstanding films by rising artists and ten provocative and entertaining panels, Anthem was called by many FreedomFest attendees "the best new idea you've had in years."

Full disclosure: by "you" they meant the management of FreedomFest, but where Anthem was concerned, they meant especially me, since the film festival was my baby. I might debate the "in years" part of that statement — the producers of FreedomFest have added great new programs every year — but I enjoyed the compliment, nonetheless.

FreedomFest is a big conference: 150 speakers, panels, and debates, and ten events going on simultaneously during breakout sessions throughout the three-day event in Las Vegas. Why add a film festival?

First, I love movies. I love entering another world, getting caught up in a conflict, and seeing how the conflict is resolved. I love being surprised. I even love being outraged. Storytelling provides a powerful way to reveal the truth, even when the story itself is fiction. Ayn Rand was well aware of this power. It's the reason she chose to devote most of her writing to fiction (including the novel Anthem) and scriptwriting.

Second, I want to encourage more filmmakers to produce works with libertarian themes, and a film festival is a good way to do that. In recent years film festivals have blossomed around the country, with thousands of small ones focusing on specific niche audiences. These festivals give low-budget filmmakers a following and a distribution chain. Libertarianism is one of those niches. A hefty grand prize offered by our co-sponsor, the Pacific Research Institute, provides still more motivation for films that fit the theme.

Third, the FreedomFest umbrella offers something most festivals struggle to provide: a convenient location and a ready audience. Most of our costs, and our risks, can be absorbed by the larger organization. It's a great way to start small and grow.

I have to admit, however, that my greatest asset in producing the Anthem Libertarian Film Festival was withoutabox.com. What a great company for festivals and filmmakers alike! Withoutabox acts as a meeting place for filmmakers and festival producers. Filmmakers receive notices every week about festivals and everything having to do with them, including themes, locations, deadlines, and requirements. I asked some of my filmmakers how they found Anthem, and most of them told me they looked through the withoutabox listings regularly. The name "Anthem" caught their attention as potentially Randian, and the details listed on my withoutabox account confirmed their expectations. A look at my website (anthemfilmfestival.com) suggested to them that it was a high-quality, professionally organized festival, and my submission fee ($15 for early bird registrations, up to $60 for last-minute submissions) was low enough to be worth a risk.

It was capitalism in action: efficient, smart, convenient.

For festival organizers, withoutabox offers even more advantages. They handle all the paperwork involved with accepting submissions — the application forms, legal releases, submission fees, and even the advertising, all for a startup fee of $500 and a graduated advertising program. Because I wanted to start small, I opted for the least expensive advertising option: four group ads to be sent out two weeks before each of my four deadlines. The people at withoutabox processed all my fees and sent me a check, keeping a small percentage for themselves. It was capitalism in action: efficient, smart, convenient. I was happy to pay them their percentage, in exchange for not having to hire someone else to do the work.

I received 60 film submissions from sources I would never have known without withoutabox. It was thrilling to discover young filmmakers with libertarian leanings who had never heard of Liberty Magazine, or Reason or Cato or Atlas for that matter. They simply understand instinctively the principles of liberty and want to express these ideals through their art. One of the best parts of the festival was getting to know these young filmmakers and encouraging them to continue making films with libertarian themes. All of them expressed a desire to come back to FreedomFest next year, with or without a new film, just to hear the speakers.

Of those 60 films, I selected 30 to present at Anthem. Our movies focused on issues of individual freedom, personal responsibility, and self-reliance, as well as the problems of government intrusion and overregulation. Many were satirical, some outrageously so. But these movies were not preachy or didactic. They were entertaining, moving, and motivating. They were movies first, and libertarian movies second. I think that's important—storytelling must touch the emotions first, and guide the listener or viewer to experience a truth. The new media available today offer great new venues for presenting a message in this way.

As might be expected in a festival like ours, we had more documentaries than feature length films. Several of our documentaries focused on education, including Indoctrinate U, about the loss of free speech on college campuses in the wake of political correctness; Zero Percent, about the remarkable education program at Sing Sing Correctional Facility that is entirely funded through private donations and inmate tuition payments; and The Cartel, about the plight of public education and how to fix it. This film, directed by Bob Bowdon, was awarded the PRI Prize for Excellence in Presenting Libertarian Ideals.

We also had documentaries about public policy issues such as the environment (Cool It), international finance and economics (Overdose: The Next Financial Crisis and Free or Equal), and the justice system (A Remarkable Man). Each of these films was followed by a panel discussion, with speakers from all over the world participating in lively and stimulating conversation. Bjorn Lomborg, who wrote The Skeptical Environmentalist and is the featured narrator in Cool It, flew in from Sweden for the festival,and Bob Bowdon of The Cartel moderated two panels, one on education and the other on how to use the new media. We even had a panel called, “What’s Wrong with Selling Sex?” that preceded Lady Magdalene’s, a narrative feature set in a Nevada brothel that stars Nichelle Nichols, the original Lt. Uhura of Star Trek.

The film judged Best Narrative feature was "alleged," starring Brian Dennehy and Fred Thompson in a fresh look at the famous Scopes “monkey trial” that challenged the teaching of evolution in schools. The film focuses primarily on the role of the press in shaping people’s opinions. Journalist H.L. Mencken, a darling of many libertarians, comes off as devious and mean-spirited — which shows that libertarian films aren't going to follow a party line. The film was especially timely in the wake of the high-profile Casey Anthony trial.

Marathon is a poignant true story about poet William Meredith and his partner, Richard Harteis, who faced the difficult decision of what to do when Meredith suffered a debilitating stroke. It has a particularly libertarian theme, because the two men don’t pity themselves or turn to government or other institutions for help. Harteis takes care of Meredith himself. The title refers to the fact that they were both marathon runners, but it’s also a metaphor for going the distance when life gets hard. Harteis produced the film and was on hand to discuss it, and the work won the jury prize for Excellence in Filmmaking.

I was particularly impressed with the short films, most of which were made by novice up-and-coming filmmakers. Usually they were five to 15 minutes long, and all of them focused on libertarian issues. Some were serious short dramas set in dystopian futures, demonstrating what might happen to individual liberties if governments continue down their intrusive paths. Others were satirical comedies using humor to make the same point. Final Census, which won the prize for Best Short Comedy, was so outrageous that I had to soothe a sweet old lady who didn't quite see the humor of a census taker who calmly determines the social value of the people he is hired to count, but I laughed out loud when I saw it the first time.

Bright, the film that won the jury award for Best Short Drama and the Audience Choice award for Best Short Film, is reviewed separately below. Its production values, from the quality of the acting to the music and lighting, were remarkable, especially for a film festival, where movies are generally made on a shoestring budget. Bright was made for $10,000, for example, and Final Census for a mere $150. Next year we will have a panel called "Fiscally Responsible Filmmaking" to showcase their feats of funding magic. For a complete list of the films we screened this year and the awards they earned, go to anthemfilmfestival.com.

One of the most difficult problems with starting a film festival is, of course, that of attracting audiences. Even though we had a ready audience of 2,400 people attending FreedomFest, each film still had to compete with ten speakers — and one other film, as a filmmaker emphasized with a hint of disgruntlement at my decision to screen two films at a time. This year our screening rooms were located in the Skyview Rooms on the 26th floor of Bally's, a long walk down the hall and up the elevators from the main action in the Event Center. Potential viewers had to be fully committed before coming to the films — they couldn't just poke their heads in and then decide whether to stay. Our late submissions deadlines also made it nearly impossible to promote specific films in advance.

But these are simple problems, easily rectified before next year's festival. In 2012, I will, for example, probably select fewer films and show them more than once, since word of mouth grew throughout the conference, and many people were disappointed to learn that a great film they heard about wasn't playing again.

The Anthem Libertarian Film Festival will definitely be back at FreedomFest next year with a new batch of long and short films expressing libertarian ideals. I can't wait to see them, and to meet the filmmakers who will produce them. I hope Liberty's readers will be there too.

But now, let me introduce you to Bright.

Describing the essential requirements of a "skillful literary artist," Edgar Allan Poe wrote in a review of Nathaniel Hawthorne's Tales from an Old Manse: "The unity of effect or impression is a point of great importance . . . Without a certain continuity of effort — without a certain duration or repetition of purpose — the soul is never deeply moved." Every moment, Poe said, must be "conceived, with deliberate care, [to create] a certain unique or single effect."

These movies were not preachy or didactic. They were entertaining, moving, and motivating. They were movies first, and libertarian movies second.

Director Benjamin Busch has created such a work of art with his short film Bright. It's about Troy (Eric Nenninger), a young man who must overcome a paralyzing fear in order to move forward with his life. Every moment in the film is skillfully and deliberately planned to create a particular effect in the viewer. From its opening moments on, the film establishes a rich atmosphere, filled with symbolic imagery, especially the imagery of light. Troy is raised by a blind adoptive father, Irwin (Robert Wisdom), who represents the iconic blind sage of mythology and guides Troy on what turns out to be a spiritual journey. Irwin is blind, but he can "see"; Troy is sighted, but his back is always toward the light.

In this dystopian future, Troy works as a restorationist, helping people regain a sense of continuity with their past by finding old-style original light bulbs for their homes. This spinoff from the current light bulb controversy is, of course, a metaphor for the conflict between what is natural and what is artificial, what is light and what is dark, in the search for courage and meaning in life.

The pacing is deliberately slow, filmed at "the pace of real thought," according to director Busch, who wants viewers to have time to hear the dialogue. Viewers are able to contemplate the film's philosophically provocative lines: "There's danger in all this safety" . . . "Someone who never sees, never knows" . . . "I miss the light but I can remember it" . . . "I loved and I lost, and I'm glad that I loved" . . . "How much would you pay to be happy?"

Bright is a film to be seen with friends, and discussed in long, leisurely conversations afterward. As Poe said of Hawthorne's Tales, "withal is a calm astonishment that ideas so apparently obvious have never occurred or been presented [like this] before." I think Poe would have been pleased with Bright.


Editor's Note: Review of "Bright," directed by Benjamin Busch. 2011, 40 minutes. Anthem Film Festival Best Short Drama and Audience Choice Award.



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