Expiring Minds Don’t Want to Know

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I fear for many of my friends. I fear for my country. Because of many of my friends, I fear for my country.

Earlier this summer, I attended a pool party hosted by the local chapter of a gay and lesbian Catholic organization. Though a precious few of us are libertarians or conservatives, it shouldn’t be hard to guess the political sentiments of the rest. And sentiments they are. I’ve come to believe that they amount to little more.

Prior to the Era of Trump, these people talked about politics only slightly more often than anyone else. Since this past November, they’ve been obsessed with the president. Specifically, they’re obsessed with the notion of deposing him from power.

In their minds, Vice-President Mike Pence has morphed from a homophobic zealot into a genial and benevolent soul, sort of an amiable dunce.

How are they going to accomplish this? Though the details are fuzzy, it has something to do with the Russians. They’ll find some other reason when the Russian thing poops out — as it eventually and mercifully will. And after that, there will be another, and then another. Their logic about each reason will be as murky as it was about the one before.

Reason itself is now considered, by the enlightened souls who have taken it upon themselves to enlighten my friends, to be Western and Judeo-Christian, white-skinned and patriarchal. Therefore it has been banished from Left World. I’m not sure what’s supposed to replace it. But if the leftists I know give any indication, what they say scares the hell out of me.

In the minds of my “progressive” pool party friends, Vice-President Mike Pence has morphed from a homophobic zealot into a genial and benevolent soul, sort of an amiable dunce in the tradition of their cartoon-character Reagan (rehabilitated from villainy when it suits them), who will be a “responsible caretaker president” in a time of new political peace. Which, of course, they’re currently convinced the nation will enjoy, once the Evil Donald has been driven from the White House. It’s what they are evidently being told by those who tell them what to think. When I told them what I thought would really happen, they reacted as if I were as unfabulous as the Wicked Witch of the West, swooping down on herbroom to snatch Toto.

Because of my pesky and apparently incurable habit of thinking without seeking permission, I became a heretic.

What I said was that Trump is not going to be impeached. But that if he were, the Republicans would probably not permit another Democrat president to finish a term for some time to come. And that in the meantime, the leftist puppeteers and their puppetettes would quickly turn from seeing President Pence as a harmless caretaker into damning him as the Devil. He’d almost certainly give them a lot more to be outraged about than Trump ever would.

How soon they forget that the same Mike Pence advocated taking money from research on HIV/AIDS and using it, instead, “to provide assistance to those seeking to change their sexual behavior.” That he defended “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” by calling it “a successful compromise” and warned that permitting gays to serve in the military without hiding their orientation would “advance some liberal domestic social agenda.” That he declared, “There’s no question [that] to mainstream homosexuality within active duty military would have an impact on unit cohesion.” And that he imagines Disney engaged in a dark plot to corrupt the tender flower of American womanhood, having once said, of the movie Mulan, he suspected “that some mischievous liberal at Disney assumes that Mulan’s story will cause a quiet change in the next generation’s attitude about women in combat and they just might be right.”

Do my friends even realize the next step to which they’re being led by their lords and masters? The goal, of course, is not merely to get rid of Trump. By whatever means necessary — no matter how illegal or unconstitutional — they want to control the government of this country and the lives of its people. This means that however benign the Left’s leaders may sound about the vice-president at the moment, they will not ultimately let him stand in their way.

Whatever must it feel like, to be told exactly what to think and not to be permitted to think anything else, on peril of excommunication from the Church of Progressive Feelgood? I don’t know; because of my pesky and apparently incurable habit of thinking without seeking permission, I became a heretic. I was a libertarian even before I knew what a libertarian was. I left the Left for many reasons, but perhaps the main one was that being led around like a sheep is little better than a walking death. The greater distance I place between myself and my former political comrades, the more horrifying their mentality becomes to me.

Would they want to live in a country where the peaceful transfer of power from one administration to another was no longer possible?

Another friend of mine, an 80-something Hillary Clinton Democrat, recently remarked of Trump that “we need to get him out of there.” Once upon a time, simply to avoid an argument, I would have let that slide. But I’ve gotten so tired of listening to all the mean-girls-in-the-cafeteria sniping that I asked her for an explanation. She spluttered a little, then changed the subject.

I don’t think she knew why she thought “we” needed to get President Trump “out of there.” She just knew that she was supposed to think it. And she was perfectly comfortable saying so, because she assumed I knew that I’m supposed to think it, too.

Do the leftist demigods’ obedient little do-bees even realize what life in this country will be like if our electoral system is destroyed by nonsense like this? Would they want to live in a country where the peaceful transfer of power from one administration to another was no longer possible? There’s a lot about our political life that I dislike. That doesn’t mean I want to see the United States turned into a Third World hellhole.

Our political environment is beginning to resemble one of those horror movies in which an evil entity possesses people, transforms them into zombies, and programs their terminated brains so they’ll destroy the country. That may sound hyperbolic, but I’m no longer sure that isn’t really what’s happening. As the undead rise out of the cornfields wielding scythes, they aren’t even allowed to suffer a stray idea. If there are any other ideas, expiring minds don’t want to know about them.

It simply isn’t natural for a huge population of human beings to have such uniform opinions. When their views are truly their own, unanimity is impossible. Even if they were all inspired to random acts of kindness and goodwill toward all, their uniformity would still be creepy, although it might make the world a nicer place. If they were all possessed by the spirit of self-reliance and fiscal responsibility, they could save the country. But the ideas they share are almost all abysmally stupid and destructive. It’s hard to understand how even a few of them could come up with such foolishness by their own best mental efforts.

There’s a lot about our political life that I dislike. That doesn’t mean I want to see the United States turned into a Third World hellhole.

There is no way to turn this idiotic tide by dint of any collective counteraction. As big a job as it is, it must be tackled by a great many of us as individuals. It won’t be pleasant, because we’ll need to be the skunks at an endless number of garden parties. But I’m beginning to find that it isn’t as difficult as I feared. I keep making an infernal, contrary nuisance of myself, but I haven’t lost a friend yet.

What I do, in polite conversation, is the equivalent of waving a hand in front of their faces, snapping my fingers, shining a flashlight in their eyes (or ears) and saying — as encouragingly as I can — “I know you’re in there somewhere.” I tell them they’re too smart to believe the things they say. Instead of calling them idiots, I say that the people telling them such rot are mendacious hucksters who think (quite wrongly!) that their audience must be idiots. A surprising amount of the time, this works at waking them up,at least for a fewminutes.

They live in such a bubble that many of them honestly don’t know there’s any other way to think, but friends don’t let friends become zombies. Every expiring mind is worth saving. As they’re probably sure former Vice President Dan Quayle once said, “A mind is a terrible thing to lose.”




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A Field Guide to Humanoids

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In one of Woody Allen’s best films, Manhattan, he portrays a television comedy writer who gets fed up with the triviality of his job. He doesn’t want to make audiences laugh at people anymore, because he no longer finds people very funny. Only as he’s quitting do we learn the name of the program for which he writes: Human Beings — Wow! There are surely times — perhaps daily — when our sentiments echo those of that title. Sometimes we find the fellow members of our species funny, but painfully often we can’t.

Equal parts children of the gods and descendants of the apes, we possess about the same number of traits from each. If aliens from outer space were to come to earth, intent on learning all they could about us, they’d probably be puzzled. Just as birdwatchers consult field guides to the species native to their area, our visiting aliens might make good use of a field guide to humanoids. Having studied the human drama all my life, I think I could write a pretty decent one. I know just what I’d want to tell them, especially if they ever obtained the vote.

One of the main strategies of statists is dehumanizing the opposition. It must be evil, and it must never change.

The political forces that would control us want to keep us alienated from one another. They employ the time-tested tactic of divide and conquer. They don’t want us to understand human nature, because then we would learn how to get along with one another. We’d never achieve perfect harmony, no matter how much we understood, but we’d certainly be able to function without constant, heavy-handed government supervision.

One of the main strategies of statists is dehumanizing the opposition. It must be evil, and it must never change. If it could be seen to improve, gradually becoming less evil and generally better, the state would no longer be needed to protect its minions from that wicked force.

What does it look like when people change their minds about an issue? Our statist lords and masters don’t want us to know. If we came to recognize it, we might be more patient with those who disagree with us. If we realized how effective nonaggressive persuasion can be, we’d be willing to use that instead of the coercion to which we feel we must resort if we’re sure nothing else will work.

Most of my friends and relatives are leftists. When I try to get them to understand what’s really going on in this country — as opposed to the twaddle they’re told — I get dogged resistance. They don’t want to understand the changes that are taking place. Their heads are stuck deep in the 20th century, and a mythical version, at that.

If aliens from outer space were to come to earth, intent on learning all they could about us, they’d probably be puzzled.

When people change their minds, the process is usually one of gradual evolution. They usually think (or want to think) that they arrived at their new opinion totally on their own, without having been persuaded by anyone else. Sometimes they even try to pretend that they never thought any other way.

They’re not going to publicly flagellate themselves for their errors, no matter how cathartic the spectacle might be for others. I know that I don’t like getting even a private flogging for mine. I sometimes do from conservatives, when I admit that I used to be a leftist. “So you know you were wrong, now . . . huh, huh, huh?” They actually think that treating me like a poorly housebroken dog and grinding my nose into a pile of poop will get me properly trained.

It shouldn’t be made personal, because it really isn’t, as the trite saying goes, “about us.” Truth existed for eons before we were born, and it will endure long after we are gone. It’s bigger than we are. We need it, but it does not need us.

I’ve seen tremendous change in many conservatives, particularly on issues like gay rights. Leftists are deathly afraid to admit this. Donald Trump is probably less hostile to gays than any president in history before Obama, but the LGBTQWERTY left has utterly convinced itself that his administration is going to herd them into boxcars and ship them off to some new Dachau.

After hearing this fear expressed for at least the five thousandth time, I finally blew my stack. I asked a sad and quaking, safety-pin-wearing friend exactly what he thought it would look like if conservatives finally changed their minds about gays — humoring him by assuming, for the sake of argument, that a great number of them already haven’t. He gave me a long, blank look, like a schoolboy who’d failed to study for an exam. Then he launched into a litany of government actions that conservatives “must” support to show how really, really, really, really sorry they are for having been such meanies.

They’re not going to publicly flagellate themselves for their errors, no matter how cathartic the spectacle might be for others.

The concept of change happening organically in society — instead of being engineered by government — is totally foreign to him. He can’t fathom the possibility that people might be persuaded by logic and experience. Everything must be forced to happen. People who think this way are abysmally and inexcusably ignorant of human nature. It’s almost as if they came to this planet along with those visiting aliens and — like them — were seeing it now for the very first time.

If we don’t learn to understand each other, eventually we will destroy each other. There have been legends about extraterrestrial visitors since the days of the Pharaohs. We keep scaring ourselves by speculating that they might someday try to conquer and colonize this planet. I don’t think we need to worry.

They’ve been watching us through their binoculars and muttering, “Human Beings — Wow!” Like Woody Allen, they may not mean that as a compliment.




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The Smallest Minority

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After the terrorist attack on the Pulse nightclub in Orlando, some pious souls in the media called for 24 hours of dignified silence before the politicizers launched into their usual politicizing. I don’t think it lasted even 24 seconds. In the length of time it takes for the shot-clock to run out in an NBA basketball game, the players were at it again.

From the right came cries for tightened restrictions on Muslim immigration. “The Religion of Peace strikes again!” conservative pundits crowed. And from the left, somber words of comfort for “the LGBT community.” They’d ban all those horrible guns this time. Oh, and this heinous crime was most certainly not the fault of radicalized Muslims, but of anti-gay Christians who don’t want to bake cakes.

The concept of the individual is as dead as the human beings liquidated in the Pulse attack.

A meme almost immediately made the rounds on Facebook. Where “gays” — meaning all of us, evidently — needed to be schooled on how stupid we “all” are because we side with the gun-banning appeasers of terrorists who want to kill us. Or something.

I left a comment reminding these “libertarian conservatives” that collectivist thinking and mindless identity politics are supposedly the sole province of the Left they so despise. That by no means all gay people think the way they assumed every one of us did. I was readily assaulted by a battalion of overaged third-graders, screeching that I had to be an hysterical, gun-grabbing, Muslim-appeasing leftist (what else could I be?). One patriotic gentleman told me that I had the IQ of squashed fruit. Pun almost certainly intended.

If this is the state of “libertarian conservatism,” then heaven help us. These people have been sucked headfirst into the same black hole that has already swallowed millions of leftists. The concept of the individual — defended by Ayn Rand as “the smallest minority” — is as dead as the human beings liquidated in the Pulse attack.

Members of any so-called community of minorities who permit themselves to be lumped together into a faceless glob are committing a sort of suicide.

The full Rand passage is this: “The smallest minority on earth is the individual. Those who deny individual rights cannot claim to be defenders of minorities.” I guess the battalion on that Facebook post missed that in their quick scan of the CliffsNotes.

Members of any so-called community of minorities who permit themselves to be lumped together into a faceless glob are committing a sort of suicide. They are sacrificing their very selves. No politician or activist who demands this of them has any genuine regard for them as human beings. When people are rounded up together like cattle, it is not very often by those who care about them, or mean them well.

The Orlando shooter was able to kill so many because they’d corralled themselves into a confined space. Not because of cowardice or any coercion, but because that was where they could have a good time. The reasoning of those who would exert power over us “for our own good” also presses us together into a crowd, where we are indistinguishable from everybody else, can’t assert our individuality and can be more easily manipulated. We also find it more difficult to defend ourselves from harm, and nearly impossible to escape it.

In the aftermath of the Pulse massacre, of course many of the usual people are repeating their boilerplate blather. They’re obsessed with “gun violence,” about which we supposedly must “do something.” But the master programmers of this blather seem less confident than they have in the past. An increasing number of gay people are now deciding that the “something” we must do is something else.

As first responders moved among the shattered bodies of the dead in that nightclub, they heard the ringing of victims’ cellphones. Calls that would never be answered. Calls from friends and relatives who were not trying to call “the gay community,” or “stupid liberal gays who hate guns,” but merely loved ones for whose lives they feared, and whom they’d called too late.

I will need to be more careful, from now on, about where I go and whom I’m with. I’ll need to watch the exits when I’m in a predominantly-gay crowd. Of course I’m not always allowed to bring a gun wherever I go, and in the types of gatherings where large numbers of gay people will be, firearms will almost certainly be forbidden. Yes, I take it personally that 50 people were murdered because they were gay. But I take it as no less of an affront that a few elites, who think they’re better qualified to see to my safety than I am, are doing their utmost to keep me from defending myself.

I will need to be more careful, from now on, about where I go and whom I’m with. I’ll need to watch the exits when I’m in a predominantly-gay crowd.

They’ll tell me I’m stupid when I protest that I have the right to self-defense. Others will call me stupid simply because “all” gays must be presumed not to care about defending themselves. There are already many, many more Muslims in this country than there are gays. The Left — which really cares about nothing but power — can certainly do the math. If they couldn’t use it as a pretext for disarming the citizenry, or for slandering all Christians yet again, many of them wouldn’t bother shedding a single tear for those of us who are murdered.

In one way or another, every one of us gets thrown into some demographic group, which then becomes a voting bloc, of interest to the political class only because it wants something from us, or can get something out of us. The individual is indeed the tiniest minority. Yet if enough of us remember that individuality is the one feature we all share, perhaps we can rise up and reassert a commitment to our common humanity. And if that does happen, maybe those cellphones won’t have rung in vain.




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The Few, the Proud, the Insufferably Entitled

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Students at the University of Oregon have demanded that a quotation by Martin Luther King, Jr., be removed from the wall of their student union building because King’s remarks were not “inclusive” enough. The offending words? “I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character. I have a dream . . .”

It seems that King did not acknowledge the LGBT community when he argued for racial equality, and that makes him privileged and insensitive. So, off with his head — and his quotation.

Never mind that King was risking his own life to lead the way for racial equality (a risk that ended in his murder). Never mind that he was a minority voice with no political power save the art of persuasion. Never mind that his dream of his children being judged by the content of their character can include minorities of all kinds, or that the LGBT community and the feminist movements were blazing trails of their own at the time. King is privileged and insensitive for not including them specifically.

When you’re blazing a trail, you cut away the biggest obstacles first, and leave the paving of the road for those who come behind.

Change is a process. You install new carpet and then realize the walls need new paint, which makes the curtains look dingy so you replace those, and before long you have a whole new room of furniture. Yet these same students who are so self-righteously criticizing the leaders of the past have no idea whose rights they are ignoring — or even trampling — today.

It was, in fact, Oregon students who 30 years ago demanded that the university replace its motto, “Leader in the quest for the good life for all men,” with the King quotation, after feminists objected that the motto did not include women. Too bad they didn’t think of the LGBT community back then. (And too bad they didn’t realize that the word “men” originally was inclusive of both genders.) The point is, when you’re blazing a trail, you cut away the biggest obstacles first, and leave the paving of the road for those who come behind. It’s a process, not a destination.

This same criticism is made against the Founding Fathers because they did not address the slavery issue when they declared independence from Great Britain. And yes, they were Founding Fathers. Not a single woman signed the Declaration. But that doesn’t mean women weren’t involved. They were managing family farms, running family businesses, overseeing their children’s education, maintaining home security, and ensuring there would be enough income and capital to allow their husbands to focus on freedom. These were partnerships, even if the women’s names didn’t appear on the documents.

I dream of a time when people will be judged by the culture of their own times, and not by the social progress of the future.

Should they have emancipated the slaves at the same time? From our perspective, of course. But the country wasn’t ready for that much change. Slavery had been an economic institution for millennia, and few people realized that you could persuade people to do the grunt work without a whip, simply by paying them a good wage. It was a revolutionary idea to think that a country could be governed of, by, and for the people without a monarch in charge. To proclaim that everyone had been born with certain inalienable rights took six bloody years to prove. They blazed the trail. Blacks and then women would pave it.

I dream of a time when people will be judged by the culture of their own times, and not by the social progress of the future. I forgive the imperfections of past leaders, because they were blazing new trails for me, cutting through oppressive underbrush and battling archaic beliefs, so that I could travel their broad highways while searching for new trails to blaze.




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Compassion Fatigue

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We are a compassionate society. Or at any rate, so we keep being told. Why is it, then, that as the list of those deemed worthy of our compassion grows — ever longer — we find it more difficult to overflow with it? Our human kindness comes forth, much of the time, at no more than a trickle.

I keep hearing that libertarians are unkind. That we’d starve our grandmas for a tax break, or something to that effect. But the people most inclined to exalt themselves as paragons of compassion often behave the most hard-heartedly. They say they are compassionate, so we’re supposed to believe them. Yet in their interactions with their fellow human beings, they show precious little evidence of it.

Most of us have had the bizarre experience of being informed what we believe, even before we can tell others what we think.

The genius of libertarian philosophy is that it honors the individual, even as it acknowledges the universal. We can — at least theoretically — empathize with any other person because we share a common humanity. Yet even though each of us shares in the human condition, every one of us is unique. You and I can appreciate, in those we love, that each of them is distinct from every other human being who ever has been or will be born.

It’s a privilege for me to know the people I love, and even the ones I merely like. My life would be far less meaningful if it lacked a single one of them. None of them is enough like another that I could lump them together and sum them up. Each is a beautiful stone in the mosaic of my personal world. If I saw all of them as alike, instead of seeing each of them as a unique part of a mosaic, I’d be looking at nothing but the antiseptic wall of a public bathroom.

Compassion fatigue sets in not because we’re lacking in that particular quality, but because it gets exhausted. We’re shamed into genuflecting before a political altar, but that is hardly the same as feeling solidarity with our fellow human beings. This is the bitter fruit of statism. As individuals, the state considers us useless. We matter to it only as a herd, so we’re conditioned to behave, and to treat each other, like livestock.

I happen to be something called a white Christian gay female middle-class American. That’s quite a lot to wrap my mind around. I very much prefer to think of myself as me. In any interaction that I have with each of you, I prefer to think of you as you.

When I started living as openly gay, I began to notice that instead of being recognized more fully as an individual, I’d merely joined another herd. I wasn’t even expected to have opinions or preferences of my own; they were all assigned to me by others. People with fixed opinions about gay issues are always telling me what I should believe, what I can’t believe, or what I do believe — whether I actually believe those things or not. To those who care only about power, our individuality is nothing but a nuisance.

The latter treatment is given tolibertarians in general. Most of us have had the bizarre experience of being informed what we believe, even before we can tell others what we think. Even though many of the things we’re told that “all libertarians believe” bear little or no relation to our actual convictions.

On the libertarian spectrum, I’m left of center, but center-left. I used to be much more of a statist progressive. I still care about the same issues, my concerns having changed very little. I simply no longer believe that government action is capable of making the world a better place. All I’ve seen it do is create one gigantic mess after another, and make life even worse for those it endeavors to “help.”

Were we able to give of ourselves voluntarily, without the guns of government compassion pointed at our heads, I suspect that we would prove ourselves as generous as anyone.

I’ve become something of a gadfly for better treatment of the mentally or emotionally ill. I’m also involved in work on behalf of alcoholics, drug addicts, and the homeless. Of course I care about women’s issues and gay rights. But I no longer trust in politicians to save anyone. All they do is say pretty things, while doing whatever serves their own, petty interests.

The “compassionate” left hasn’t yet figured out how to exploit people suffering from psychological disorders — beyond offering them Obamacare, which is to say, offering them no help at all. Women and gays are of interest to social justice warriors only so long as we obediently march in their army. Alcoholics, drug addicts, and the homeless tend to vote only when they’ve succeeded in freeing themselves from the curse of perceived helplessness foisted upon them by “progressive” politics. And then, they’re dangerously likely to vote for those who tell them they’re capable of running their own lives. Truth be told, no one’s plight is of much interest to the ostentatiously compassionate unless it can be exploited in one way or another.

My progressive friends fear that I’ve gone over to the dark side. I’m frequently accused of having lost my “compassion.” But when I try to interest them in actually getting off their bums and doing things to help those for whom their hearts bleed, I often get blank stares or even anger. They are afflicted with compassion fatigue.

All thatmany of them think they need to do, for those they’re officially informed they should care about, is vote for the potentates who claim they’ll accomplish what needs to be done. Thus assured, they’re likely to sit back passively and do what they’re told — to give whatever is demanded of them, without asking what’s done with it. They are always admonished to obey their self-appointed superiors — those who insist that they know best.

Given the limited view they have of the world, I can hardly blame them. They are perpetually being told to feel for this gripe-group or that one. Never are they encouraged to recognize anyone in these groups as actual, flesh-and-blood people, with names, and faces, and stories of their own. But on behalf of separate and disparate groups, victimized by the disembodied forces of evil, their compassion is milked daily. We can only take so much of that before we are milked dry.

Libertarians like to save our milk for the nourishment of those we truly care about. We recognize that it belongs to us, and that no one else has any automatic claim on it. Certainly, we know that no one else’s claim on our milk supersedes our own, or that of those to whom we choose to give it.

Were we able to give of ourselves voluntarily, without the guns of government compassion pointed at our heads, I suspect that we would prove ourselves as generous as anyone. Maybe more than most. Those who truly need our help would likely never find it lacking. What a shame it is that because it is so often squandered, when it’s actually needed and deserved we may have nothing to offer but an empty pail.




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Are Mobs a Good Thing?

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In recent days, the Indiana “religious objections” law has often occupied the number one spot in the news, despite competition from the Iran nuclear negotiations, the mass slaughter of Christians in Kenya, the machinations of leading candidates for the presidency, and other inarguably more important topics.

I’m no expert on the law, and I won’t pretend to be, but I suspect that neither the governor of Indiana nor the gay and liberal lobbies that are attacking him could ever be convicted of libertarianism. We knew that, coming in.

It does seem obvious, however, that both conservative and liberal lobbies have made a lot of money on this controversy, and will make plenty more on mass emails with 20-point type. Less obvious, but vaguely predictable, is that the conservatives will benefit from a sizable backlash and, even more, from the precedent set by liberal lobbyists in promoting business boycotts that crippled the governance of a state, and all because of something that is, in itself, pretty clearly a minor issue.

From this, I believe, libertarians can learn two equal but opposite lessons.

1. In America, in the digital age, boycotts can actually work; and a minor issue can be the best thing to use in promoting such boycotts. Campaigns about minor issues don’t have demonstrably worrying entailments. They can be reduced to simple messages and used to embarrass people who don’t join a boycott. “What do you mean, you don’t celebrate Cesar Chavez Day? What do you mean, you don’t start your meetings with a flag salute?” Not libertarian examples, I know . . . but given a little ingenuity, people inclined toward liberty could use this weapon to mobilize opposition to governmental entities that offend in some clear though minor way, thus encouraging them not to offend in mightier ways.

2. In America, moral mobs are easily formed. America is, for good and bad reasons, a moralistic country. It’s a country that had Prohibition, for God’s sake. It’s the kingdom of political correctness. Anyone who claims to be offended in America can elevate the “issue” to moral status and make the alleged offender wish that he or she were dead. Libertarians are just as vulnerable to this treatment as anybody else, and the precedent set by the liberal mobs zeroing in on Indiana — or Duke University, or the University of X, or Company Y . . . fill in your own favorite atrocity — is not a happy one. It appears less happy when one reflects that even after the mobs have been shown to be lynching the wrong people, their impetus doesn’t go away. They just find another victim.

Two lessons. No conclusions. Sorry.




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Apple Pie, Puppy Dogs, and Sunshine

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Those promoting a political idea usually sell it to the public by portraying it as pure wonderfulness. “We want apple pie, puppy dogs, and sunshine for everybody!” And really, who wouldn’t want that?

I thought that by now I would have finished with the recently-failed Arizona SB 1062 “religious freedom” bill — the subject of my previous essay in Liberty. But the reaction my opinion has received, from several people I know, makes me realize I’ve only scratched the surface of a deeper problem, one that is, in the long run, far more interesting. To those of us who love to watch political theater for the sheer entertainment of it all, the phenomenon is fascinating indeed.

As the state held its breath to see if the governor would sign or veto SB 1062, I sat in an ice cream parlor with some friends. Inevitably, the subject came up, and I gave my take on it. Across the table from me, my friend John underwent an amazing transformation. For a moment, I thought he was going to turn into the Incredible Hulk.

Leaning into his whipped cream, his eyes bulging and forehead arteries popping, he said, “It’s about religious freedom, okay?!”

Apple pie, puppy dogs, sunshine, and religious freedom for everybody. Okay? But where does this leave people who know there’s a poison pill inside that candy shell?

Issues are framed this way, by those who promote them, so that anyone who opposes them looks like the baseborn child of Snidely Whiplash and Tokyo Rose. I like John very much, so I didn’t want to leave him with that impression. “I don’t think the bill would really do what it’s claimed to be trying to do,” I said. And then I told him why.

We are not an unfeeling nation. We do a powerful lot of feeling. But that we do precious little thinking has become painfully obvious.

Three or four people — out of all the millions in this country — filed silly lawsuits against merchants who refused, “for religious reasons,” not to serve them. We would never accept the notion that because of what three or four heterosexuals did, all of them should be judged guilty. But that is exactly what was done here. And it is done to gays and other minorities all the time, and for no other reason, apparently, than because it can be.

How does that serve liberty? How is it possible, on such a basis, even to make an intelligent or responsible decision about legislation — which is itself government intrusion, no matter how attractively it’s packaged — that affects the lives of millions? Appeals to wield the club of government this way are nearly always made on the basis of raw emotion. A free people who would remain free would be wise to pause, breathe, and think about the issue in the light of fact.

John responded to my opinion not with reason but emotion. He may have thought he was giving me a reason — “religious freedom” — but I was not questioning whether that is a good thing. I was challenging whether religious freedom would best be served by the bill proposed. I thought the measure taken was too extreme to be warranted by the incidents that provoked it, which might better be addressed in other ways. And I thought that its passage would bring consequences not only unintended but undesirable.

As I suggested in my previous piece on the subject, we could reform the civil court system to discourage frivolous lawsuits. If we absolutely could not resist passing yet another law protecting religious freedom, we could include a clause requiring merchants who would refuse to serve certain patrons to post their policy publicly. Far better, we could sidestep government coercion altogether and encourage those who proudly serve all customers without bias to participate in a plan to publicize this. In Arizona, for example, businesses can take the Unity Pledge. As those wishing to refuse same-sex couples’ business for religious reasons have no justification for hiding their light under a bushel, it’s difficult to see why they would want to keep their convictions a secret.

Other people with whom I have discussed this legislation have responded the same way John did. Motivated by passion, they want to act on passion. On cue, everybody — feel, feel, feel!

I might suggest that we are not an unfeeling nation. We do a powerful lot of feeling. But that we do precious little thinking has become painfully obvious.

Majorities tend, all too often, to resort to brute force. They do it simply because they are the majority, so they can get away with it. This is behavior conducive not to liberty but to license. Those who worship the power of the state seem unable to distinguish between the two. Those who believe in liberty — if we would keep that liberty — would be wise to make the distinction.




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Earps vs. Clantons at the Tolerance Corral

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Arizona has a reputation as a politically nutty state. I’ve lived here all my life, and I prefer to think of it as Goldwater country: a feisty outpost of individual independence. I don’t like the idea that millions of other Americans think I live in loony-land, but given our occasional, highly publicized spasms of hysteria, I can see where they get the notion.

We’re seen as the Wild West. Land of the O.K. Corral. Still, at heart, an untamed territory, crawling with cowboys and yokels. But I don’t think our problem is really that different from problems anywhere else in America. We’re degenerating into an entire nation of spoiled and very bratty children.

We all remember the bullies from elementary school. Most of us had some classmates we liked, and others we didn’t. If we didn’t like somebody, we probably hung around with somebody else. But bullies aren’t content simply to dislike people. When they dislike us, they want to make it our problem.

There are bullies on both sides of the “tolerance” issue. I view the conflict with the detachment born of distaste. I don’t see why spoiled children, on either side, should carry the day. In this instance, thanks to Gov. Jan Brewer, they haven’t.

The other evening after Mass, some of my very left-of-center friends summed up our latest brush with lunacy by saying, “Well, the governor did the right thing by vetoing that stupid bill . . . but after all, it was just business.” Our Republican governor, in other words, pandered to those evil business interests. What a neat and tidy way to make sense of it all.

I know why the opinion-shapers to whom they listen are telling them that. Because the statist left is getting ready to punish the “religious freedom” crowd by pushing for statewide public accommodations laws, forcing every merchant to serve everybody. Now that they’ve won one showdown, their blood is up and they’re spoiling for another. It’s the Earps versus the Clantons all over again.

Hurting people’s feelings is not a crime, and it never should be. If peace is to reign in any society, those who simply want peace must be permitted to have it.

Many social conservatives will see this as all the gays in the state conspiring to violate their precious religious freedom. Though many gay people I know express opinions similar to mine, I can speak for no one but myself. I simply want to be left the hell alone. I want to live in peace.

I think it’s high time the Wild West was tamed, but I don’t think the Man with the Badge is the one to tame it. We, the ordinary citizens, need to tame it ourselves. I’ve seen enough of those old westerns to know that when the marshal rides into town, that’s when the real shooting starts.

Let’s begin with some clarification of what “public accommodation” means. Police, fire protection, and other basic, life-and-death services — for which we are all taxed to pay, regardless of our sexual orientation — are the true public accommodations, and as such, they must remain available to everybody. It is the marshal’s job to protect us all, whether he likes us or not. 

Those of us who respect liberty are interested in a solution that lets you be you and me be me. One that doesn’t force anybody to do anything. Bullies aren’t interested in peaceful compromise. They want a shootout every day. There are plenty of bullies on both the right and left, and those of us who want to clean up the town need to stop letting them goad us into needless conflicts.

When Arizona’s SB 1062 was being slopped together into a bill, it was suggested that a clause be added mandating that merchants who wanted to take advantage of the religious exemption publicly post that they were doing so. They didn’t like this. Not only did they want to be able to deny service to those of whose “lifestyles” they disapproved (meaning gays), but they wanted to be cowards about it. Though I agree that they should be free to discriminate against me, I do, however, think it’s only fair that they should warn me. According to my own religious convictions, bigotry is a sin. I believe that the Religious Right is as close to an Antichrist as any entity has ever been, and I don’t want one dime of my money supporting it. I don’t like these people, and I want no more to do with them than they do with me. But if they leave me alone, I’m perfectly content to leave them alone.

Along with reforming our civil court system to discourage frivolous lawsuits (like gay couples suing photographers for refusing to take their wedding pictures), we should exempt from litigation merchants who loudly and proudly post warnings that — because they’re such good Christians — they refuse to serve gays. That would bring an end to the clamor for heavy-handed legislation to protect the religious freedom of everybody who decides, willy-nilly, to discriminate against everybody else. It would also take the state out of the business of determining whose religious beliefs are really “sincere” and whose are not. Hurting people’s feelings is not a crime, and it never should be. If peace is to reign in any society, those who simply want peace must be permitted to have it.

I’m very glad we’ve gotten rid of lynching, and I’d like to see the gunfights come to an end. But there’s one Old West tradition I’d very much like to see revived. Some people ought to be tarred and feathered and ridden out of town on a rail. Those who persist in disturbing the peace by making their dislikes everybody else’s problem richly deserve to be dispatched in this way. When the mob forms to clear the country of them, I’ll be the first in line.




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The Kiddies Get Played Again

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The Duck Dynasty brouhaha is over, and for that we can be thankful. Many of those who got excited over it are somewhat embarrassed now. At least they should be. The way it ended — with the show’s resumption just as A&E was almost out of reruns — reveals it to have been a PR stunt and largely a sham. As a commenter on one of my favorite blogs put it, “Merry Christmas! We’ve been played!”

I wasn’t as entertained, or as exercised, as a lot of people. I was watching not the media-manufactured drama, but America’s reaction to it. Those on both the political Left and the political Right who usually get taken in by such nonsense were sucked in yet again. What I found reassuring was that so many others weren’t.

Americans may be waking up from their long, hypnotic daze. They now hear the show’s star, Phil Robertson, pontificating about the virtues of menmarrying 15-year-old girls, and even those who rah-rahed his anatomically-explicit anti-gay tirade in GQ magazine are revolted. This may be another Terri Schiavo moment, when the social right overplays its hand so grossly that its fraudulence is exposed for all to see. That people who’ve expended so much effort trying to get the government to censor others are now rushing to the barricades to defend their “religious freedom,” and that they’re so confused about what censorship is or isn’t that they think a business has no right to suspend an employee, is rich indeed.

It is high time we woke up. Those who blur the line between free speech and censorship most likely do so because they intend to cross it themselves. This is a sorry crowd to be lecturing anybody about the freedom of anything. Not that their political adversaries conducted themselves any more nobly. To their credit, many in the public recognized this, too.

Those who fancy they’ve “taught A&E a lesson” are apparently too dull-witted to realize that they did exactly what the network wanted them to do.

All the predictable people did all the predictable things, and a good portion of the audience is getting bored with the act. GLAAD, which fancies itself something of a gay Anti-Defamation League, leapt in immediately after the GQ article came out, demanding that Robertson be punished. If they could have called in the troopers to kick in the door to the family mansion and drag the entire clan off to jail, they probably would have. I got emails from several gay rights groups, telling me how outraged I should be — and shilling for donations.

Though I’m reassured that many people were sensible enough to see the mummery for what it was, I’m worried that so many others weren’t. Activist organizations on both sides of the controversy raked in piles of money. Several politicians — some of whom I would have expected to behave with more restraint — seized the chance to grandstand. There is no one I would vote for now that I wouldn’t have before, but there are about a handful I might have supported, but now, as a matter of principle, would vote against.

What is wrong with those who permitted themselves to be so cynically played? Are they really so hollow inside, and do they truly have so little sense of themselves, that they can be trained to salivate, like one of Pavlov’s dogs, at the ding-ding of a bell? Those who fancy they’ve “taught A&E a lesson” are apparently too dull-witted to realize that they did exactly what the network wanted them to do.

I would feel sorry for them, if I weren’t rather frightened. I don’t think that Jefferson, or Adams, or Franklin ever envisioned the possibility that 230-odd years into the future, so many Americans would be so childish, shallow, gullible, and grasping. They probably wouldn’t fall for the charms of a bellowing little man with a funny mustache and a swastika armband, but anybody who makes them feel like godly patriots, or evolved progressives — depending on their illusion of choice — could seduce them into following him (or her) anywhere.

Are there enough grownups left in this country to run it? Liberty presupposes that citizens who have reached the age of majority are capable of functioning as adults. A media-manufactured controversy like the Duck Dynasty blowup demonstrates, with stark clarity, who belongs at the big table and who should be sitting with the kiddies.

Perhaps Duck Dynasty should become a watchword — a shorthand warning — for every time the bell again goes ding-ding-ding. It may be enough to jerk some people into adulthood, or at the very least to jerk them awake.




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