Hip Replacement: Lesson One

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“In a soldier’s stance, I aimed my hand
at the mongrel dogs who teach . . .”
                                      — Bob Dylan, My Back Pages (1964)

English, like every other living language, constantly evolves. Every utterance holds the promise of change: a new take, a fresh twist, an old word with a new meaning, or a neatly turned phrase that nudges the language, and the people who speak it, in a new direction. This is Donald Trump in the ’80s: “You have to think anyway, so why not think big?”

New words are created all the time. The verb “mansplain,” coined less than a decade ago, describes a practice at least twice as old: when a man explains something, a new word, say, to a woman in a condescending manner. And, of course, words just disappear. I haven’t heard “tergiversation” since William Safire died. Some words are like mayflies, here and gone. A word used only once is called an “onanym,” which, appropriately, is one.

As changes accumulate, the distance between the old and new versions of the language grows and the older version gradually becomes dated, then archaic, and, eventually, incomprehensible. Read Beowulf. (Or consider that less than 60 years ago we elected a president named “Dick.”)

And, of course, words just disappear. I haven’t heard “tergiversation” since William Safire died.

The sound of English changes, too. Its phonological components, such as tone, pitch, timbre, and even melody, change. If you learned American English, the North American dialect of Modern English, scores of years ago, as I did, you have heard many such changes and, while you can probably understand the current version, provided the slang isn’t too dense, you probably cannot reproduce its sound.

This, then, is a music lesson of sorts, designed to help you, my fellow older American, replicate the sounds of what we will call Post-Modern English, or PME, the successor to American English. Not the slang, mind you, but the sound of it, the music. If you are wondering why you should bother, reflect on this: you wouldn’t parade around in public wearing the same clothes that you wore as a child, would you? Of course not, because fashion changes and we should change with it, provided that we do it in an unaffected way. Choosing to update the sound of your English is as sensible as hanging up your coonskin cap. One must make an effort to ensure that one’s outfit looks snatched, after all.

The lesson includes a short passage from a radio broadcast I heard that contains many of the phonological changes that American English has undergone during the past several decades. While I managed to jot it down, I couldn’t get a copy of the audio. No matter. You can tune into any pop radio station and listen to the banter of the DJs. They are first-rate role models for Post-Modern English. (Dakota Fanning is not. I heard her interviewed on NPR, and to my ear she sounded like nothing so much as the valedictorian at a finishing school graduation, circa 1940. To be fair, NPR features many guests, and hosts, for that matter, whose mastery of PME is just totally awesome.)

Choosing to update the sound of your English is as sensible as hanging up your coonskin cap.

Ready? There are five parts. The first reveals the essence of Post-Modern English, so that you will know how to comport yourself when speaking it. The second will help you adjust your vocal cords to the proper register. The third comprises ten exercises drawn from the transcript of that radio broadcast. The fourth alerts you to a few problems you may encounter once you have mastered PME, and suggests practical solutions. The fifth and final part will put American English where it belongs: in the rear-view mirror. Just as Professor Higgins taught Miss Eliza Doolittle to drop the cockney and pass as posh, so I will teach you to drop your stodgy American English and sound cool. By the end of this linguistic makeover you will sound like a real hep cat. (The spellchecker just underlined “hep.” Bastards.)

* * *

Part One: The Essence

As French is the language of love and German is the language of Nietzsche, Post-Modern English is the language of wimps.

(Just now, you may have jumped to the conclusion that the word “wimps” was deployed in the previous sentence as a pejorative. It was not. It was chosen because it is the word that best embodies the defining characteristics of Post-Modern English. If you’ll bear with me, I think you’ll come to agree.)

When a French woman explains a line from Also Sprach Zarathustra,she sounds as if she were flirting. When a German man puts the moves on a fräulein in a dimly lit hotel bar, he sounds as if he were explaining how to change the oil in a diesel engine. Let us stipulate that the French woman is not a flirt and the German man is not a mechanic. It doesn’t matter; their languages make them sound that way. And when a fluent speaker of Post-Modern English asks you to move your car because he’s been boxed in, he sounds like a puppy that has just peed on your white carpet. He may not be a wimp, but he sure does sounds like one. It is simply the case that each of these languages, at least when heard by Americans of a certain age, creates a vivid impression of the speaker. It is no more complicated than that. So why does the American guy sound like such a wimp?

Post-Modern English is the language of wimps.

At the core of Post-Modern English are two directives that determine not just the attitude but also the moral stance that its speakers assume as they turn to face the oncoming challenges of the modern world. These two directives, sometimes called the Twin Primes, preempt both the laws enacted by governments and the commandments handed down by ancient religions. (Practically, this means that in the event of a conflict between any of those laws or commandments and either of these two directives, it is the latter that will be adhered to, not the laws of God and man, all other things being equal.) You may have heard one or both of the Twin Primes invoked when a speaker of Post-Modern English suspects a violation has occurred in the vicinity.

The First Directive is “Don’t judge.” The Second is “Don’t be a dick.”

How, you may be asking yourself, could two such sensible and straightforward prohibitions make millions of people sound wimpy? Enforced separately, they probably couldn’t, but enforced together, they lay a paradoxical trap that can make even the straightest spine go all wobbly.

When a fluent speaker of Post-Modern English asks you to move your car because he’s been boxed in, he sounds like a puppy that has just peed on your white carpet.

Step by step, now. To judge others is considered rude in Post-Modern English, especially if the judgment is thought to be harsh. A person who judges others in this way and then communicates that judgment to those being judged is often referred to as a dick. If, for example, you saw someone who was judging others and, in a completely sincere attempt to be helpful, you said to that person, “Don’t be a dick,” you would have, in effect, not only made a judgment about that person’s behavior, but also communicated it to that person in a harsh way. By definition, then, by telling this person that he has behaved badly, you yourself would have strayed off the reservation to which PME speakers have agreed to confine themselves, and would have become the very thing that you have judged so harshly: a dick.

Now, Post-Modern English speakers are not stupid. They are aware of this trap and, not wishing to be hoist with their own petards, do what any reasonable person would do. Not only do they rarely call other people “dicks,” but they fall all over themselves to avoid any communication that can be interpreted as passing judgment on others. Simple statements about mundane matters are qualified and watered down so that the likelihood of giving offense is minimized. Explanations are inflected to sound like questions, apologies, or cries for help. Commonplace opinions are framed semi-ironically, often attached to the word “like,” so that they can be retracted at the first sign of disagreement. This feature of the language is called “ironic deniability.” It also allows one to blame irony when the real culprit is stupidity.

As a result, fluent PME speakers, when compared with speakers of earlier forms of American English, sound more uncertain, unassertive, and nonjudgmental. To put it bluntly, they sound more sheepish. Not because they are, you understand, any more than the French woman was flirtatious. It is just that the rules of the language have prodded them, bleating, into the chute that leads inescapably to the waiting tub of dip. In short, to avoid being dicks, they end up being wimps.

By telling this person that he has behaved badly, you yourself would have become the very thing that you have judged so harshly: a dick.

Wake up, old son, and smell the nitro coffee. In this brave new world, wimpiness is cool.

And that, my crusty-but-benign student, is all you need to know. You don’t need a dissertation on the cultural and historical forces that forged this pained linguistic posture; all you need is to imitate its cringe as you complete the lesson ahead and go on to achieve fluency in Post-Modern English. Here’s an aspirational commandment: “Thou shalt be cool.” You can do this. It’s goals.

Part Two: The Vocal Register

Please say, “So, that’s pretty much it, right?” in your normal 20th century voice. OK? Now say it again, but make the pitch of your voice as low as you can.

How’d it go? When you lowered the pitch, did you hear a sizzle, a popping sound, like bacon frying? No? Try again, as low as it will go. Once you’ve achieved this effect, I’ll give you the backstory.

Ready? That sizzle is the sound of liquid burbling around your slackened vocal cords. As you may have noticed, this register, often called vocal fry, has been growing in popularity during the past few decades.

Fluent PME speakers, when compared with speakers of earlier forms of American English, sound more uncertain, unassertive, and nonjudgmental. To put it bluntly, they sound more sheepish.

In the 1987 movie Made in Heaven, Debra Winger played the archangel Emmett, God’s right-hand man, who was supposed to be a chain-smoker. As Ms. Winger was not, she had to simulate a smoker’s voice for the part, serendipitously producing a pitch-perfect proto-vocal fry. While this early mutation event does not appear to have lodged in the inheritable DNA of the language, it is fascinating in the same way that the Lost Colony of Roanoke is.

Vocal fry’s current run on the linguistic hit parade is more likely to have begun when Britney Spears croaked “Baby One More Time” in 1998, although it is occasionally said that the real patient zero was someone named Kardashian. Whatever.

Women tend to use vocal fry more than men. A wag on TV once said that women are trying to usurp the authority of the patriarchy by imitating the vocal register of the male. This would be in stark contrast to the southern belle or transvestite, both of whom artificially raise the pitch of their voices, sometimes into falsetto, to enhance the appearance of femininity.

Isn’t the theory that these bubbling vocal cords were repeatedly sautéed and baked less likely than the much simpler explanation of demonic possession?

Another theory holds that the phenomenon is simply the result of too much booze and marijuana. For this “Animal House Hypothesis” to be taken seriously, however, it must account for the fact that vocal fry did not present in the ’60s (except briefly in Clarence “Frogman” Henry’s 1956 recording of “Ain’t Got No Home”). Considering that the sound more nearly resembles an audition for the next installment of the Exorcist franchise, isn’t the theory that these bubbling vocal cords were repeatedly sautéed and baked less likely than the much simpler explanation of demonic possession? The smoker’s rasp sounds much drier, anyway.

There has been an effort to dismiss the bubbling as a mere affectation. But ask yourself: what are the odds that a vocalization nearly indistinguishable from Mongolian throat singing will be adopted by millions of young people, simply to strike a pose? I’m just not buying it. The simplest explanation may be best: it was an innocently adopted, thoroughly harmless preteen fad that unexpectedly took root in adolescence and grew into a well-established, widespread adult habit, like picking one’s nose.

Don’t sizzle when you uptalk. You’ll frighten the children.

We may not know where it came from, and we may not know why it came, but we do know that vocal fry, while not quite the sine qua non of Post-Modern English, sends the loud and clear message, to anyone who happens to be within earshot, that standing here is a proud master of the 21st-century version of American English, gargling spit while speaking. (I seem to recall once seeing something similar being done by a ventriloquist.)

Learn the sounds in the lesson below; sing them with the sizzle above, while acting like a sick toy poodle at the vet’s, and your quest will be over. The Holy Grail of this Elders’ Crusade will be yours: PME fluency. (Oh, and remember: don’t sizzle when you uptalk. You’ll frighten the children.)

Part Three: The Exercises

So, in the 2016 election, Clinton was really sure she would sort of capture the states in the rust belt, but she didn’t. I mean, the turnout there was pretty much deplorable, right?

1. Discourse markers, sometimes called fillers, such as those used above (so, really, sort of, I mean, pretty much, and right), while not integral to either the meaning or the music of Post-Modern English, enhance its aesthetics, signal that the speaker is part of the linguistic in-crowd, and help the speaker sound as if his grip on what he’s saying is less than firm. It gives him wiggle room and makes him seem all squirmy: the Daily Double. Placing fillers in a phrase to best effect calls for a keen ear, rigorous practice, and a constant monitoring of how it is being done by the cool kids.

Beginning immediately, insert at least one filler into each sentence you speak. Yes, it requires self-discipline, but don’t worry; in time, it will become habitual and you will be able to dispense with self-discipline entirely.

There are fillers galore. To gain perspective, note that like, actually, and dude, while still heard, have grown slightly stale.

Yes, it requires self-discipline, but don’t worry; in time, it will become habitual and you will be able to dispense with self-discipline entirely.

About ten years ago, like was like ubiquitous. Like it was in like every sentence like three or four times. I mean, it had like metastasized. Then, over the next few years, its rate of use fell by 73%, as though it had gone into remission. Often, when a word or fad becomes a pandemic, it burns itself out. There was a sign on a Mississippi country store: “Live Bait – Nitecrawlers – Cappuccino.” It could be that the overuse of like was deemed uncool by some shadowy teen language tribunal and labeled a bad habit, like smoking tobacco. But as with that addiction, many found it impossible to go cold turkey. You’ve probably heard of Nicorette,a gum used by smokers trying to ease withdrawal. Well, the discourse markers sort of, kind of, you know, I mean, and pretty much have been the linguistic Nicorette to millions of like addicts trying to kick the habit. Some former addicts have resorted to saying kinda-sorta. They are sincere in their belief that this constitutes an evolutionary step forward.

Actually, which often sounds a trifle pompous, has largely been replaced by so in the initial position and right in the final position, as demonstrated in the lesson. It can still be used, but sparingly. Once per minute ought to do it, actually; twice, at most.

In place of dude, try bro, or brah, or bruh, or perhaps you could consider using nothing at all.

In summary, “Actually, I like know what I’m talking about, dude,” compares unfavorably to, “So, that’s pretty much, you know, how it sort of is, brah — I mean, right?” While both sets of words still appear in the lexicon of New English, the latter reflects the more gracile stage of linguistic evolution that has been achieved, and is, therefore, preferred. It sounds more woke, too, doesn’t it, or is that just me?

They are sincere in their belief that this constitutes an evolutionary step forward.

2. The first two syllables in the word “election” should be mid-range in pitch, and clearly and crisply enunciated, while the final syllable should be lower pitched and slightly drawn out: “shuuun.” (In other applications, the terminal syllable must be uptalked. This will be covered in Lesson Two.) The increase in duration for the final “shun” is mandatory for all words ending in “-tion.” God knows why. But try it again, with a little sizzle: “elek- shuuun.” Nice.

3. “Clinton” should be pronounced “Cli/en” with a glottal stop entirely replacing the medial “nt” consonant blend. Glottal stops are a thing right now. “Mountain” is “mow/en,” and “important” is “impor/ent,” not to be confused with the mid-Atlantic pronunciation “impordent.” (Note that in the go-to example for glottal stops in American English, “mitten” becoming “mi/en,” it is only the “t” sound that is replaced, as it is in “impor/ent.” Replacing the “nt” seems to be the more recent, bolder approach, and is thus more worthy of imitation.) Practice these glottal stops in front of a mirror. To avoid embarrassment, it’s better to practice when you’re alone than to try them out in public before they’ve been thoroughly polished.

4. The word “sure” should not be pronounced like “shirt” without the “t” but rather as “shore,” rhyming with “snore,” with the long “o” and a strongly vocalized “r.” This pronunciation probably hails from Brooklyn, where it had been successfully detained for decades. Similarly, don’t say “toorist,” say, “toarist.” (By George, you’ve got it.) Again, practice. This is hot stuff. Cutting edge. Hundo P.

To avoid embarrassment, it’s better to practice when you’re alone than to try things out in public before they’ve been thoroughly polished.

5. In the word “capture,” the first syllable, “cap,” should be mid-range in pitch and clipped at the end, with a fraction of a second pause before dropping down to the second syllable, “chur,” which must be at a low pitch and slightly drawn out, so that it sounds like the endearing growl of a small dog.

This rule, first promulgated by anonymous Valley Girls back in the eighties, applies to all multi-syllabic words that end in “-ture” and most words of more than one syllable that end in “r.” The amount of fry used in this application has varied over time, and the appropriate level has been the subject of a lively but inconclusive debate. I take the view that it is a matter of personal taste. Experiment with the sizzle; go ahead. Practice with this list: rapture, juncture, fracture, puncture, rupture. Remember: Start high, go low, go long. Grrrr.

6. In “the rust belt,” “the” should be at mid-register pitch, while both “rust” and “belt” should be about five full notes higher. Yes, this is the famous sound of uptalk. The higher pitch of “rust” and “belt” suggests that a question is being asked. The goal is to create the impression that you are checking to see if the listener knows, as you are pretending to know, exactly what the rust belt is. What is desired is the illusion of a simultaneous, unspoken, empathetic interaction of mutual insecurity, something like, “Are you still with me? Am I doing OK?”, evoking at most an instant, tiny nod from the listener and a silent “Yes, I’m still with you, and you’re doing just fine, I think.” Try not to sound too needy. Aim for a subtle patina of clingy insecurity. It’s more credible. No need to ham it up.

Again, it is the legendary Valley Girls who are credited with this classic innovation. Australia recently filed a suit with the International Court of Justice disputing this claim. As if!

Aim for a subtle patina of clingy insecurity. It’s more credible.

Uptalk, like vocal fry, is used by women more than men, and is frowned upon by some, especially when it is “overused” and “exaggerated.” What crap. When it’s used once or twice per sentence, and the high-pitched words don’t pierce the falsetto barrier too often, uptalk reliably contributes to an authentic-sounding PME fluency. While I’ll grant that it may be something of an acquired taste, with practice and patience you’ll come to find its chirping high notes as precious as I do. Uptalk is cool and is likely to remain so. (I suspect that some men avoid uptalk because it makes their mansplaining hilarious.)

7. Then, after “rust belt,” comes a pause, as though the speaker were waiting for some confirmation of comprehension. This is a faux pause. The pause should not be so long that it gives the listener sufficient time to formulate and initiate an inquiry — in this instance, into the actual membership roster of states or cities in the rust belt. The duration of the pause will vary according to the speaker’s assessment of the listener’s level of expertise. Here, the assessment would involve the fields of (a) voter behavior in 2016 and (b) the deindustrialization of the non-Canadian area around the Great Lakes during the past half-century. To use the faux pause correctly, then, refer to this rule of thumb: Low expertise? Short pause. High expertise? Shorter pause. As always, the primary concern should be style, not substance.

8. The words “but she” should be two full steps lower than “belt” (from the fifth to the third), but “didn’t” should be right back at the same pitch as “belt.” That’s right, another dose of uptalk.

To master the technique, the novice should start by uptalking at least 50 times a day. When I was starting out, I kept a pencil stub and a little note pad in my shirt pocket to tally up my uses of uptalk during the course of the day with neatly crosshatched bundles of five. You might want to give it a try, as it keeps your shoulder to the wheel. I am proud to say that I uptalk effortlessly all the time now, and the surprise and sheer delight on the faces of young people when they hear an older gentleman “talking up” makes all the hours of practice worthwhile. I feel like I’m really making a difference.

While I’ll grant that it may be something of an acquired taste, with practice and patience you’ll come to find its chirping high notes as precious as I do.

A word of caution. When uptalk is employed at a very high frequency, volume, and pitch, and the whole sampler of fillers is tossed in, a critical mass can be achieved that has been known to set off a chain reaction. First your dog, then the neighbors’, then their neighbors’ — before you know it, the whole neighborhood is filled with the sound of a howling canine chorus. Once, when I overdid it, the damned coyotes even joined in. So mix fillers into your uptalk carefully. I’m just saying.

9. The word “didn’t” should be pronounced as a crisp, two-syllable “dident.” The short “e” sound should be clearly heard as in “Polident.” (Think “prissy.”) This same rule applies to “doesn’t,” which becomes “duhzent,” emphasis again on the short “e.” While “couldn’t” and “shouldn’t” also sometimes become “couldent” and “shouldent,” as one might expect, just as frequently they come out as, “coont” and “shoont,” utilizing the short “oo” of “schnook.” (Thinking back, the guys I heard using this pronunciation may have been lit.) Either of these modern variants is acceptable, but eschew the fuddy-duddy standard pronunciations of the original contractions, “could/nt” and “should/nt,” which, oddly, feature glottal stops. (Yesterday, I heard “coo/ent.” Very chill.) Oh, and don’t say “did/nt.” (With all due respect, you’d sound like a cave man.)

10. The final word, “right,” should be pronounced in a way that places it at an equal distance from (a) assuring the listener that what you just said was not only correct, but cool, and (b) seeking assurance from the listener that what you just said was not only correct, but cool. In order to achieve this effect, the coloration of “right” must be subtly blended so as to become a creature of the twilight world between the declarative and the interrogative: not falling, not rising, not whining, and never, ever abrupt. With the proper inflection, “right” will hit this sweet spot, where the listener will wonder, “Wait. What? Is he asking me or telling me?”

Practice these ten exercises. Practice hard, then get out there and commence pussyfooting.

Part Four: Problems and Solutions

As you gain fluency in Post-Modern English, what you seem to lose in self-confidence, you will more than make up for with an increased capacity to appear empathetic. Your use of PME will lower the walls and build new bridges between you and the people around you. Your sacrifice of the ability to assert your will and pass judgment on others will help create a more open, tolerant, and nonjudgmental human community. You will contribute to a world in which nobody will feel the need to say “Don’t judge me,” or “Don’t be a dick,” because there will be no one judging them and no one will be acting like a dick. That’s right: no more judges and no more dicks. It will be a world of greater respect, warmth, and, yes, love.

The bad news is that you’ll have to keep an eye out for three problems that may rear their ugly little heads.

What you seem to lose in self-confidence, you will more than make up for with an increased capacity to appear empathetic.

First, there is backsliding. Although you now sound hip, as you approach your dotage you may find among your life’s baggage a few truths that you feel should be self-evident to everyone. You may even feel a need to share these truths with the people who, sad to say, have not had the pleasure of reading the self-published revisions to your personal Boy Scout Handbook. (You may also feel a constant pain in your lower back. These symptoms often occur together.) Pretending to be wimpy may have grown so taxing that, as therapy, you decide to briefly drop the Post-Modern English charade and revert to your former pre-PME self. But how do you safely remount your high horse?

To avoid unjust accusations of hypocrisy, it is best to choose the venue and target of these code-switching episodes carefully. I’ve heard that a marvelous place to engage in them is on urban motorways. I am told that it is easy to find drivers who are unaware of your exhaustive personal list of driving dos and don’ts. What next?

You may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile. Some knucklehead in a little Kia cuts in front of you without even signaling, missing you by mere yards. Gunning it, you pull up next to him. You lower your window. He lowers his. Then you let him have it with both barrels — figuratively, of course. You tell him, in stark Anglo-Saxon terms, in as loud and clear a voice as you can muster, the obscene fate that awaits him and his mother before their imminent and humiliating deaths. After that, spleen thoroughly vented, you brake and swerve onto the exit ramp, switch back to PME,and reassume your Oprah-like pose of nonjudgmental equanimity.

Here are a few tips. Before you switch codes, make absolutely sure that the knucklehead in your crosshairs doesn’t know who you are. Anonymity is crucial. And avoid the rush hour, when traffic sometimes grinds to a halt. Offended knuckleheads have been known to leap from their cars, screaming obscenities and brandishing revolvers. They are, after all, knuckleheads. (Good thing it’s illegal to use a wireless telephone while driving. No one will be able to post your outburst on the internet.)

The best way to keep from backsliding is, obviously, to get a grip on yourself.

Before you switch codes, make absolutely sure that the knucklehead in your crosshairs doesn’t know who you are. Anonymity is crucial.

Second, should you choose to “just say no” to the temptation to backslide, beware of unsuccessful repression. If, in order to achieve PME fluency, you have to repress the wish to lord it up over everybody, and the repression fails to keep that wish contained, you may catch it sneaking out of that darkened back room of your consciousness, where you’ve been keeping it out of public view, and exposing itself in what is popularly known as a “Freudian slip.”

Attending a lovely garden party, you might intend to say, “Oh, You’re so kind. Thank you so much,” only to find yourself saying, “Why don’t you just go fuck yourself.” Remember, you could have said this to the knucklehead who cut you off, but you didn’t want to be seen as a hypocrite.

What then? The best way to avoid Freudian slips is to keep a civil tongue in your head. If you think that you might need professional help to accomplish this, weekly sessions with a competent therapist for a year or two should do the trick. And don't be put off if the hourly fee is hundreds of dollars. Medicare covers it.

Third, and finally: As bad as that slip would be, there is the possibility of something even more embarrassing. Freud himself believed that a sufficiently strong unfulfilled wish, if locked away in some dark dungeon of the subconscious, could create intolerable internal feelings that were then projected onto an external object in the form of a paranoid delusion of the kind that motivates such modern political extremists as white supremacists and their mirror-twins, the antifas. You may find yourself on the campus of a large university, waiving simplistic placards, shouting incoherent platitudes, and trading ineffectual blows with someone very much like yourself, a person who speaks Post-Modern English fluently but finds it difficult to express his opinions nonviolently. Why, he may even lack the most basic linguistic tools that are needed to engage in civil discourse.

You might intend to say, “Oh, You’re so kind. Thank you so much,” only to find yourself saying, “Why don’t you just go fuck yourself.”

The solution? Just pull yourself together, man. Snap out of it, for the love of God.

Given your age, maturity, and ability in archaic English, spotting these pitfalls early on and avoiding them should not be difficult. If, however, you find that you’re experiencing uncontrollable urges to play the pontiff, convert the heathen, or some such, and you feel the need for relief, there is a category of medications called anti-androgens that lower the testosterone levels often associated with judgmentalism. Most of the side effects are limited to the secondary sexual characteristics and are not life threatening. If this sounds right for you, you should consult your health care provider.

Should the medication prove ineffective and your symptoms persist, there is a growing body of evidence indicating that immediate and lasting relief can be achieved through gender reassignment surgery, provided that you are a male. While this has become a relatively safe and routine procedure, boasting a single-digit mortality rate, a small percentage of otherwise qualified candidates hesitate to “go under the knife.” But if you count yourself among these reluctant few, take heart. There is one more glimmer of hope: the experimental treatment protocol called “strategic relocation.” While there is insufficient data to conclusively prove the treatment’s therapeutic efficacy, the available anecdotal evidence suggests that, at the very least, more research is warranted.

Ferris T. Pranz, a postdoctoral fellow in the Department of Applied Metaphysics of Eastern Montana State University at Purdie, has been observing a band of people living with judgmentalism. These people were individually tagged and released over the past decade by the Montana Department of Behavior Management (MDBM) outside Fertin, a farming town near Lake Gombay, just south of the Missouri River. In his unpublished 2017 field notebook, Pranz records his painstaking efforts to gain the trust of this strategically relocated band at their watering hole, a smoke-filled bar called “Grumpy’s.”

There is one more glimmer of hope: the experimental treatment protocol called “strategic relocation.”

Pranz’s observations have raised some eyebrows in the judgmentalism community in Montana. Despite the Fertin band’s characteristically opinionated and aggressive communicational style and constant abuse of both alcohol and tobacco, they seem to share a gruff good humor while playing at pool, darts, and cards. Interestingly, they often refer to themselves as “blowhards,” apparently without shame or irony, and then laugh loudly. When Pranz would ask the group to explain the laughter, they would invariably laugh again, more loudly. Pranz has recommended that further research be conducted to discern the motives behind this laughter, possibly utilizing a double-blind design.

More broadly, Pranz and his colleagues at EMSUP have proposed a major longtitudinal study to explore the incongruity of the seemingly upbeat ambience in “Grumpy’s” by designing instruments to quantify (1) the specific characteristics of these Fertin people and the effect that such characteristics may have on their communicational dynamics; (2) the effects of the complete absence of treatment by means of any of the experimentally proven therapies for people living with late-stage degenerative judgmentalism. These effects can then be compared with therapeutic outcomes in matched groups receiving such treatments. Pranz has also recommended that the proposed longtitudinal study be completed prior to authorization of an expanded “strategic relocation” program to include areas beyond Fertin. In October of 2017, the Board of Directors of the Friends of Judgmentalism in Bozeman passed a resolution in support of Pranz’s proposal. Pranz plans to apply for a grant through the MDBM in June of 2018.

Part Five: Looking Backward

American English is the language of our past, already dated and quickly becoming archaic. As will be shown, the impression that it makes when spoken is not good. More importantly, it conveys an aggressive smugness that is out of step with today’s world. Even the founding documents of the United States, written in American English, sound absolutist, judgmental, and harsh.

By now, you must have asked yourself: “If French is the language of love, and German is the language of Nietzsche, and Post-Modern English is the language of wimps, then what the heck is American English?” Well?

American English is the language of our past, already dated and quickly becoming archaic. It conveys an aggressive smugness that is out of step with today’s world.

As a native speaker of American English, I am not qualified to answer. To find a place to sit somewhere outside of one’s own language and culture, and then to sit there and listen to one’s language being spoken in order to gather an impression of the speaker, using only the sound of the language, not its meaning, is like trying to street-park a Class A RV on the Upper East Side: while it may be possible, I’ve never seen it done. No, this question should be answered by people who don’t speak the language.

American English began in 1607, when the first British colonist stepped on the shore of the James River. How do you suppose American English sounds to British ears today? I’m told there are three main impressions. First, it is spoken more slowly than British English, giving the impression that the speaker is also a little slow. Second, it is spoken more loudly than British English, and with more emotion. As both of these characteristics are associated with children, the impression is that the speaker is somewhat immature. Third, American English is rhotic, meaning that “r” is pronounced both at the end of a word and before another consonant. As this pronunciation is normally associated with Scotland, Ireland, and remote rural areas, the impression is that the speaker is a bit rustic.

Taken together, then, to British ears American English is the language of dim-witted, childish yokels. One might call it the language of knuckleheads. That is not to say that Americans are knuckleheads. It simply means that our language makes us seem that way.

Post-Modern English, while less given to the glacial John Wayne drawl or the grating Jerry Lewis bray of American English, retains the rhotic accent, even doubling down on it with the vocal fry. Still, in two of the three categories, it constitutes an evolutionary step beyond its parent language. Even British children have begun to pick up Post-Modern English from Netflix, much to the delight and amusement of their parents.

To British ears American English is the language of dim-witted, childish yokels. One might call it the language of knuckleheads.

I was once told by a friend who spoke only the Arabic of the Nejd that French sounded like someone saying, “Loo, loo, loo, loo, loo,” and English sounded like someone saying, “Raw, raw, raw, raw, raw.” That was just one Bedouin’s opinion, of course. It seemed funnier in Arabic, somehow. “Loo, loo, loo.” We had a good laugh.

In 1776, less than 200 years after that first colonist was beached, Thomas Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence. What a marvelous symbolic moment in the evolution of English! He had to write it in American English, of course, because the Post-Modern branch wouldn’t emerge for two centuries. While this does not excuse him, it reduces his level of culpability. Listen:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.

Can you hear his certainty? Why, the phrase simply drips with self-confidence. To assert that a truth is self-evident is an act of rhetorical bravado that positively swaggers. (“Because I said so.”) Note the absence of fillers to dull the sharp edges. He seems to have missed the lesson that explains how “you have your truths and I have mine.” He seems to be saying that “all truths are not created equal,” pardon my French. And what is this nonsense about “men”?

So Jefferson was sure of himself, and assertive. But was he judgmental? Ask yourself: What is this Declaration of Independence, at its core? Is it a celebratory birth announcement, like a Hallmark card? (“Please welcome…”)

It seemed funnier in Arabic, somehow. “Loo, loo, loo.” We had a good laugh.

Far from it. This is Thomas Jefferson leveling a public and harsh judgment against one King George III. It spells out George’s crimes, like a rap sheet or an indictment. It is clear: Tom is judging George. Tommy is calling Georgie a dick. Listen:

A prince, whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.

This white, male, rich, privileged, powerful, slaveholding “founder” of America is writing in the scathingly self-righteous tones of archaic American English. The sound of Jefferson’s voice is clear. He is cocksure and in-your-face. He is your judge, jury, and executioner. The music of his American English is a march being played by a big brass band oompahing down Main Street on the Fourth of July, snare drums rattling like assault rifles. Courage is needed to follow the facts, no matter where they lead. It pains me to have to say it, but Thomas Jefferson was a dick.

Your final assignment is to translate the first of the two fragments above (the one with the “self-evident truths”) from American English into Post-Modern English. You have five minutes. Begin.

OK, time’s up. Answers will vary, of course, but it might be useful to compare your translation with the following:

So, some of us were sorta thinking? that a coupla of these like, ideas? or whatever? we had were, oh, I don’t know, kind of, you know, well, not so bad? I guess, right? And, uh, oh yeah, that all men, I mean, like women, too, kind of like, everybody? I mean, are pretty much, I’m gonna say, created? you know, like, equal? right. or whatever, so...”

It sounds vaguely Canadian, eh?

Yes, it is time to put American English out to pasture. Post-Modern English is not just cooler; it is more in keeping with the zeitgeist. It is the language best suited to the more equitable, inclusive, and nonjudgmental world that we are building together.

It pains me to have to say it, but Thomas Jefferson was a dick.

It is time to hang up that coonskin cap.

* * *

All living languages are continuously evolving — as are we, the species that speaks those languages. Do these two forms of evolution influence each other? Of course they do. Through millennia, the evolutionary pas de deux of our species on this earth has been and continues to be shaped by, and to shape, the words and music of our languages. To the extent that there is intent in this choreography, it is ours. We are making ourselves. The changes we make to our languages have consequences beyond the merely aesthetic. They affect the choices we make that determine our destiny. We should, therefore, make changes to our languages with the same caution we exercise in rearranging the molecules of our genome. Are we good?

“. . . Fearing not that I’d become my enemy
in the instant that I preach.”
                          — Bob Dylan, My Back Pages (1964)




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Cuba, Race, Revolution, and Revisionism

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When Cuba’s serial and multiple African military interventions began in 1963 with Guinea-Bissau’s war of independence from Portugal, Fidel Castro selected black Cuban soldiers and conscripts to man his liberation regiments. Dead black bodies in Africa were less likely to be identified as Cuban, according to Norberto Fuentes, Castro’s resident writer and — at the time — official biographer, confidant, and a participant in the later Angolan wars.

Cuba’s African — and Latin American — adventures were made possible by agreements reached among the USSR, Cuba, and the United States to end the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962. One of those protocols was a promise from the US that it would respect Cuban sovereignty and refrain from invading the island. To Castro, this was a green light to build Cuba’s armed forces for the liberation of the world’s downtrodden instead of having to concentrate his resources for the defense of the island.

Ochoa was the only subordinate who could speak uninhibitedly with, and even kid or tease, the humorless, haughty, and overbearing Fidel Castro.

However, when it came to deploying his black brigades, Castro found himself short of black commanders. Enter Arnaldo (“Negro”) T. Ochoa Sánchez.

Ochoa had been part of Castro's 26th of July Movement ever since its creation, and by March 1957 he had joined Castro's guerrilla army in the Sierra Maestra, fighting against the Batista dictatorship. It was then that Ochoa and Raúl Castro forged a close friendship, one that also led to a certain intimacy with Raúl’s brother, Fidel. According to Fuentes, in his book Dulces Guerreros Cubanos, Ochoa was the only subordinate he knew who could speak uninhibitedly with, and even kid or tease, Fidel Castro — a humorless, haughty, and overbearing caudillo.

Ochoa, of humble Oriente peasant origins, had distinguished himself in the Revolution and during the Bay of Pigs fiasco, subsequently attending the Matanzas War College and Frunze Military Academy in the Soviet Union and rising to the Cuban Communist Party’s Central Committee. But he really distinguished himself in the Ethiopia-Somalia conflict. Cuba aided Ethiopia in this USSR vs. China proxy war, since both boasted Marxist regimes. Ochoa brilliantly defeated the Somalis in the tank battle of the Ogaden. For that he was dubbed “the Cuban Rommel.”

The problem was that Ochoa wasn’t really “black,” a racial classification that could apply to almost anyone in Cuba, especially if one uses the rule of thumb once common in the United States: that anyone with any black ancestry, no matter how distant or dilute, is black. (This author’s DNA test reveals a 1–3% West African ancestry, a detail not noticeable in his phenotype.) Ochoa is very swarthy, in a Mediterranean sort of way; yet his phenotype fails to show any classic “Negroid” features. It was Raúl Castro who nicknamed him Negro (black) by bestowing on him a promotion to “Black” General. The Armed Forces Minister wanted a black commander for the black troops he sent to Africa because he lacked a qualified, real black general who would realize both his political and his military objectives.

Ochoa brilliantly defeated the Somalis in the tank battle of the Ogaden. For that he was dubbed “the Cuban Rommel.”

Now, Cuba’s armed forces actually did include black commanders, among them General Víctor Schueg Colás (see below) and Juan Almeida Bosque. Almeida was a veteran of the assault on the Moncada Army barracks that launched the 26th of July Movement. Along with the Castros, Almeida was caught, imprisoned, amnestied, and exiled to Mexico after that defeat. He was on the Granma yacht as it landed survivors in Cuba, and he fought against Batista in the Sierra Maestra mountains. Later he was promoted to head of the Santiago Column of the Revolutionary Army. Wikipedia, without any sense of irony, says that “he served as a symbol for Afro-Cubans of the rebellion's break with Cuba's discriminatory past.” In his book Como Llegó la Noche, Huber Matos, third in command of the Revolutionary armies after Fidel and Raúl — though later to be purged — describes Almeida as unsuited for military command, a “yes” man. He says that Fidel kept him purely for his loyalty and as a symbol of the Revolution’s inclusiveness of Afro-Cubans. Almeida was the only black commander during the Revolution. He was Fidel Castro’s token black.

Ochoa took the nickname Negro in stride and probably even affectionately, fully understanding the political rationale behind the dubbing. In this author’s opinion, his attitude towards race (and by extension, Fuentes’ attitude) is pretty representative of one general streak of Cuban racial attitudes. Here is my translation of Norberto Fuentes’ description of Ochoa’s reaction to the moniker:

Ochoa, besides being mestizo, was very obstinate. When anyone alluded to Raúl’s reason for the nickname — that the Minister didn’t have any competent, real black generals — Ochoa would begin to vigorously shake his head. And he would continue this stubbornness even when reminded of General Víctor Schueg Colás — el Negro Chué — as he was generally known: a black Cuban general.

Ochoa responded that “el Negro Chué was not a negro who was a general.”

“And what kind of BS is that, Arnaldo?” asked a member of the group.

“He is a general who is black, and that’s not the same thing as a black who is a general.”

For a second I [Fuentes] thought Ochoa was about to write a second volume to Alex Haley’s Roots. My mind reviewed the list of black Cuban generals.

“And what about Kindelán? And Silvano Colás? And Moracén? And Calixto García? And Francis?” I challenged him.

“None of those are either generals or black,” he declared.

“But then what the fuck are they, Arnaldo?”

“Fictions, my friend. Nothing more than nonsense,” he blithely answered.

If you, dear reader, can’t make sense of that, don’t worry. It’s Ochoa’s way of saying that race doesn’t matter, that race is irrelevant, that concerns about race are nonsense. One Cuban-American academic, quoted in Guarione Diaz’ The Cuban American Experience: Issues, Perceptions and Realities, averring that humor is an essential trait of the Cuban personality, describes the archetypal Cuban as “one who jokes about serious matters while taking jokes seriously.” In that vein, there is a deeper intent in Ochoa’s flippancy that Fuentes, in a stream of consciousness rant, then goes on to elaborate.

The Castros were recapitulating the trans-Atlantic slave trade in reverse: shackled by the ideological chains of a monomaniacal dictator and sent back to Africa.

His idea is that Ochoa, in his own irreverent way, was seeking redemption for the tragedy of Cuba’s “stoical, forced, brave, sweet and immense blacks” who had to carry — since 1965 — the full brunt of the Revolutionary Armed Forces’ guerrilla campaigns in Africa, because the Castros believed that dead black bodies in Africa couldn’t really be traced back to Cuba. They didn’t contemplate any POWs.

In Fuentes’ view, the Castros were recapitulating the trans-Atlantic slave trade in reverse: two centuries ago, in physical chains across the Atlantic to the Americas; in the late 20th century, shackled by the ideological chains of a monomaniacal dictator and sent back to Africa.

To Ochoa, race was a trivial issue; to the Castros it was an essential component of their revolutionary tool kit in their struggle for universal social justice. When, according to Diaz, Cubans began leaving the island in droves to escape the repressive regime, “the revolutionary government denied exit visas to Blacks more than to Whites to show the international community that Cuban Blacks supported the revolution and did not flee Cuba.”

Castro himself, coming down to Girón, interrogated the black prisoners — just before their sham execution — accusing them of treason both to their country and to their race.

The Castros’ revisionist racial attitude reared its ugly head again during the Bay of Pigs fiasco when the invading members of Brigade 2506 surrendered or were captured. Black prisoners were singled out for extra abuse. They were perceived as traitors since, in the Castro calculus, the Revolution had been fought — in part — for them. Haynes Johnson, in his book, The Bay of Pigs: The Leaders’ Story, adds that “of all prisoners, Negroes received the worst treatment.” They didn’t fit Castro’s Revolutionary narrative, and their presence on the invasion force infuriated him. He himself, coming down to Girón, interrogated them — just before their sham execution — accusing them of treason both to their country and to their race. Osmany Cienfuegos, a Minister in Castro’s government and brother of Revolutionary Commander Camilo Cienfuegos, second in popularity only to Fidel, lined them up against a wall and told them: “We’re going to shoot you now, niggers, then we’re going to make soap out of you.”

One notable exchange during the prisoners’ trial was with Tomás Cruz, a paratrooper of the 1st Battalion. “You, negro, what are you doing here?” Castro asked, reminding Cruz that the Revolution had been fought for people like him, and of the swimming restrictions at some tourist resort hotels before the Revolution (a pathetic concession to attract American tourists).

Cruz, with all the dignity he could muster, responded, “I don’t have any complex about my color or my race. I have always been among the white people, and I have always been as a brother to them. And I did not come here to go swimming.”

Black is White and White is Black

Broadly speaking, in Cuba, race — in this context meaning skin color — is a relatively unimportant issue, on par with other physical traits such as weight, height, pulchritude, hair color, and even disposition. Unlike in the US, where large proportions of black people distinguish themselves from the broader population with distinctive clothing, hair styles, music, linguistic flourishes, political attitudes, and other traits, all kinds of Cubans share cultural values, patois, styles of dress, music, etc. Even religious affiliation, which in the Unites States often makes a visible difference between the races, tends toward a high degree of syncretism, with ancestral roots and beliefs to the fore instead of any racial overtones — a theme that the Castro regime has falsely exploited by preferential treatment of Santeria over other religions, treating it as compensation to a previously “oppressed” race (in Castro’s revisionist ideology). American hypersensitivity to race is unknown in Cuba.

In Cuba, slaves could marry, own personal property, testify in court, and run businesses.

But how did race virtually disappear as a contentious issue in Cuba, while persisting until modern times in the United States — especially considering that the former eliminated slavery 21 years after the latter?

In spite of the awful conditions of the sugarcane fields, slavery under Spanish colonial rule was nothing like what it had become in the United States by the eve of the Civil War. According to historian Jaime Suchlicki in Cuba: From Columbus to Castro and Beyond, “Spanish law, the Catholic religion, the economic condition of the island, and the Spanish attitude toward the blacks all contributed to aid the blacks’ integration into Cuban society.” After all, the Spanish had lived for centuries under the comparatively tolerant rule of Moors.

In the American south, negritude — to any degree, i.e., the notorious “one drop rule” enacted in several states — equated skin color with a deprivation of rights. In Cuba, slaves could marry, own personal property, testify in court, and run businesses. One 18th-century observer noted that many had become skilled craftsmen, “not only in the lowest [trades] such as shoemakers, tailors, masons and carpenters, but also in those which require more ability and genius, such as silversmith’s craft, sculpture, painting and carving.”

Joining the US became a nonstarter during the US Civil War when Cubans realized how badly Negroes were treated in the South.

Additionally, Spain’s liberal manumission policy “resulted in almost 40% of African-Cubans being free in 1792,” reports Andro Linklater in his book on the evolution of private property, Owning the Earth. The diverging legal and social attitudes toward race in Cuba and in the US presaged future developments in each country. The paradoxical contrasts are striking. Whereas Reconstruction in the US institutionalized policies that had grown more nakedly racist since Independence — equating skin color with the presence or absence of rights and talents — the opposite was true in Cuba. Under the influence of the Catholic Church, the fundamental humanity of Africans was uncontroversially established early on; slavery and skin color were philosophically separated. In the time of Cuba’s Wars of Independence, Antonio Maceo, an Afro-Cuban, became second-in-command of the rebel armies.

At about the time of these wars, a notable segment of Cuban intellectuals favored the Texas model: declare independence from the colonial power and petition the US Congress for admission to the Union. The idea was so popular that the proposed Cuban flag was modeled on the Texas flag: a single star on the left, stripes on the right, and the whole rendered in red, white, and blue. However, joining the US became a nonstarter during the US Civil War when Cubans realized how badly Negroes were treated in the South. It wasn’t just the exploitation of slaves (which also happened in Cuba), but rather the contempt for dark skin color that denied a person’s humanity.

Cuba has always had an amorphous racial climate, one mostly misunderstood or puzzling to Americans. Racism, in the sense of hating or fearing a person for his skin color, is unknown. Skin color was never an impediment to respect. But skin tone snobbery (rarely surpassing trivial tut-tutting or even semi-serious priggishness) was not uncommon. Color gradations, like degrees of body mass index ranging from the skeletal to the morbidly obese, extended into categories of people Americans would consider “white,” with the too-pale also looked at askance, as if they were anemic and rickety.

Fulgencio Batista, while president, was denied membership in the Havana Yacht Club: he was considered too swarthy; although his son, Jorge Luis, was admitted. That he didn’t take the rejection personally and, as a dictator, did not take reprisals, is inconceivable to an American. Instead, the president donated a marina to the Havana Biltmore Yacht & Country Club, as swanky a venue if not more, and, voila! he and his family became members of that club.

Racism, in the sense of hating or fearing a person for his skin color, is unknown in Cuba. Skin color was never an impediment to respect.

This nonchalant — politically-correct Americans might say insensitive — attitude is related to Cubans’ tendency to nickname everyone, even strangers. A person with epicanthic folds will be called Chino, a very black man Negro, a fat person Gordo (my own nickname after immigration), a starkly white-skinned person Bolita de Nieve (Snowball), a skinny woman Flaca, a large-nosed man Ñato, a full-lipped person Bembo (hence, Negro Bembón for a full-lipped black man), a pug-nosed man Chato . . . You get the picture.

But the irreverence also gets manifested post-ironically, in the same vein as Ochoa’s nonchalant whimsy: a very black man might be nicknamed Blanco or Bolita de Nieve, a fat woman Flaca (skinny), and so on.

My favorite example of this is Luis Posada Carriles’ nickname. Posada Carriles, a Cuban exile militant, is considered a terrorist by the FBI. He is generally thought to be responsible for the bombing of Cubana flight 455 in 1976, which killed 73, including 24 members of Cuba’s National Fencing Team. In addition, Posada Carriles is said to have been involved in the planning of six bombings at Havana hotels and restaurants during 1997. His rap sheet is much too long repeat here. Posada Carriles’ nickname? Bambi.

But I digress. Overtones of Americans’ racial (a term I hesitate to use, as you’ll see below) attitudes are making inroads into the Cuban-American experience. One white Cuban-American informant admitted to being fearful of and avoiding groups of black men after dark in the US, a behavior that had never crossed his mind back in Cuba. Would one call his reaction in the US “racism”? I wouldn’t. I’d call it adaptability based on experience, a phenomenon that black economist Thomas Sowell has explicitly addressed in his writings.

The Color of Culture

Americans, both black and white, are quick to cry racism in any untoward exchange between people of different hues when someone is being a boor or a snob or experiencing a misunderstanding or, more often than not, when mild ethnocentricity is at work. Ethnocentricity . . . a big word that simply means the tendency of most people to exercise a preference for congregating with like-minded, like-speaking, like-dressing and like-looking people — people they can easily “relate to.” Expressed hierarchically, people’s instinctive loyalty is first to their family, then to their clan (extended family), town, state, religion, in-group, political party, culture, nation, etc. One can see this in the popular slogans “buy local” and “buy American.”

Imagine you’re a small business owner looking for a sales rep. You interview two applicants, one black and one white. The white applicant is sloppily dressed, needs a shower, doesn’t speak clearly, and seems distracted. The black applicant, on the other hand, is fully engaged, is dressed smartly, and seems keen to join your operation. It’s a no-brainer — the black applicant has more in common with you; skin color is not a factor.

We all share a tendency to look at other cultures solipsistically: we see through the lens of our own values, evaluating people according to preconceptions originating in our own standards and customs.

Now imagine the opposite scenario: The black applicant displays plumber’s crack, reeks, and is unintelligible; while the white wears a coat and tie, speaks in your local accent and displays overwhelming enthusiasm. Again, a no-brainer, with skin color again not a factor; instead of that, it is shared values that determine your choice.

Ethnocentrism does, however, have its extremes, the ones you’ll most often come across in a dictionary, without the nuances of an Anthropology 101 course. The first — and one that we all share to some degree — is a tendency to look at other people and cultures solipsistically: we see through the lens of our own culture and values, evaluating other cultures according to preconceptions originating in the standards and customs of our own milieu. More extreme is the belief in the inherent superiority of one's own ethnic group or culture — an attitude that, taken to an absurd limit, can breed intolerance, chauvinism, and violence.

The Origin of Races

What is race? One doesn’t need to understand race in order to be a racist or accuse someone of racism. Contrary to popular opinion, skin color is not a determining factor of race. H. Bentley Glass and Ching Chun Li were able to calculate from blood group data that North American Negroes have about 31% white ancestry (cited in Stanley M. Garn and Charles C. Thomas, Readings on Race [1968]). For practical or political reasons, biologists and physical anthropologists are divided as to the validity of the concept.

First, the more practical biologists. In biology, race is equivalent to variety, breed, or sub-species. In a nutshell, it is incipient speciation. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, race is “a group of living things connected by common descent or origin” — as uncontroversial and far from the whole-picture definition as one can dream up. But to understand race one first has to understand species.

Contrary to popular opinion, skin color is not a determining factor of race.

A species is a group of living organisms consisting of similar individuals capable of exchanging genes or interbreeding. The species is the principal natural taxonomic unit, just below genus — yet even this is by no means a simple or clear-cut concept. Think of horses, donkeys, mules, Jennies, zebras and zorses (a horse-zebra hybrid); or dogs, wolves and coyotes. These animals can interbreed, with various rates of fertility success, but do not normally interbreed in the wild. To account for this, the classic definition of species was amended by the addition of a qualifier, that the group of organisms in question must not only be able to interbreed but must also do so regularly and not under extraordinary or artificial circumstances.

To further complicate things (or was it to simplify?), Ernst Mayr, one of the 20th century’s leading evolutionary biologists and taxonomists, formulated the theory of ring species (aka formenkreis) in 1942 to explain a natural anomaly in the distribution of closely related populations. According to Wikipedia, “a ring species is a connected series of neighboring populations, each of which can interbreed with closely sited related populations, but for which there exist at least two ‘end’ populations in the series, which are too distantly related to interbreed, though there is a potential gene flow between each ‘linked’ population.”

The term ‘ring species’ is a vestigial remnant of some of the first ring species identified, but the populations need not be in a ring shape. Examples include the circumpolar Larus herring gull complex, Ensatina salamanders, the house mouse, trumpet fish, drosophila flies, deer mice, and many other bird, slugs, butterflies, and others. Most natural populations are bedeviled by such complexities, including our closest relative, Pan troglodytes, among whom the East African subspecies shweinfurthii is separated by the Congo River and half a continent from the West African variant verus.

Gould believed that the concept of "race" had been used to persecute certain human groups to such an extent that it should be eliminated.

So that brings us back to race, or incipient speciation. Charles Darwin, in Origin of Species, identified the speciation process as occurring when a subpopulation of organisms gets separated from the larger group, fails to interbreed with them, and interbreeds strictly with itself. This process increases the smaller group’s genetic complement while reducing — again, within the smaller group — the larger group’s greater genetic diversity. The eventual result may be that the smaller group becomes distinct enough to form a new species. This part of the process is labeled “genetic drift.”

Two other factors usually contribute to speciation: genetic mutation and adaptation (through natural selection) to a new environment or way of life. Here “adaptation” does not carry the sense of individuals “getting accustomed to” a new situation but rather the sense of individuals carrying genes that are detrimental in that situation dying before they procreate — in time deleting those genes from the smaller group. This is called “natural selection.” After a subgroup separates from the main population and before it becomes a new species…this is when the term “race” properly applies.

But Darwin understood the limitations:

Certainly no clear line of demarcations has as yet been drawn between species and sub-species — that is, the forms which in the opinion of some naturalists come very near to, but do not quite arrive at the rank of species; or, again, between sub-species and well-marked varieties, or between lesser varieties and individual differences. These differences blend into each other in an insensible series; and a series impresses the mind with the idea of an actual passage.

Of course, a race may never become a new species; it may well, for any number of reasons, reintegrate back into the main population — which brings us back to human races and the more political anthropological concepts.

Some experts, the late Marxist paleontologist Stephen Jay Gould to the fore, believed that race, as applied to humans, was unhelpful, even invalid. He believed that the concept had been used to persecute certain human groups to such an extent that it should be eliminated. And forget “variety” (humans aren’t flowers) and “breed” (they aren’t dogs) and “subspecies” (the Nazis’ use of unter ruined that prefix).

On the other side stand the Physical Anthropologists (Stanley Garn, Paul T. Baker, Bentley Glass, Joseph S. Weiner, et al.) with the late physical anthropologist Carleton S. Coon, who pioneered the scientific study of human races under the Darwinian paradigm of adaptive and evolutionary processes.

Coon divided Homo sapiens into five races with origins in some distant past, distant enough that genetic and phenotypical differences appeared: the Caucasoid, Congoid, Capoid, Mongoloid and Australoid races. These had diverged not only because of genetic drift, but also as adaptations to their local conditions. The oldest races were the darkest: African Blacks, Australoids and Papuans; while whites, Asians, Pacific Islanders, and American Indians diverged later. Skin color varied according to sun exposure. For example, northern European climates favored fair skin to improve Vitamin D synthesis, while dark skin was a shield from Vitamin D overdose. However, in extremely hot and sunny climes such as the Sahel, too-black a skin would tend to heat a body too much, favoring a more swarthy tone. Along the lands of the upper Nile, tall, lanky bodies helped radiate accumulated heat.

When sickle-cell anemia was discovered in white populations, it clinched the notion that racial adaptations were responses to local environments and independent of adaptations such as skin color

On the other hand, the Inuit were physically well adapted to extreme cold: compact bodies to conserve heat; little facial hair to prevent frozen breath condensation that might freeze the face; lightly protruding noses to protect it from freezing; epicanthic eye folds to reduce the area of the eyes to the elements and yellow or yellow-brown skin. The yellow skin likely evolved as an adaptation to cold temperatures in northern Asia. The yellow color resulted from a thick layer of subcutaneous fat, visible through translucent outer layers of skin.

A more recent adaptation was lactose tolerance, which apparently evolved in whites, permitting adult consumption of milk following the domestication of cattle about 6,000 B.C. But one of the most curious adaptations was sickle cell anemia, a debilitating genetic disease that nonetheless provided partial immunity to malaria to the carrier of one allele. First discovered in black African populations, it was first considered a Negroid feature. However, when it was discovered in white circum-Mediterranean populations, it clinched the notion that racial adaptations were responses to local environments and independent of other adaptations such as skin color — a curious vestigial association from more unenlightened times.

Coon’s classifications — mostly unbeknownst to him because the later fine points post-dated him — were already a mélange built on a vast diversity of prehistoric Homo: neanderthalensis, sapiens, denisovans, floriensis, erectus, habilis, etc. Some scholars define these as separate species, others as separate races. I would argue that it is impossible to define an extinct species within a genus from bone remains alone. (Conversely, albeit ironically, modern skeletal remains often yield their race.) DNA researcher Svante Päävo, one of the founders of paleogenetics and a Neanderthal gene expert, has opined that the ongoing “taxonomic wars” over whether Neanderthals were a separate species or subspecies as the type of debate that cannot be resolved, “since there is no definition of species perfectly describing the case.”

Human evolution, ignoring all the tedious debates, continues to surprise us.

Luckily, some Neanderthal DNA has been sequenced and it was discovered that Sapiens includes some of those brutes’ genetic material — about 2% — in northern European populations. In our history, studies suggest there may have been three episodes of interbreeding. The first would have occurred soon after modern humans left Africa. The second would have occurred after the ancestral Melanesians had branched off — these people seem to have thereafter bred with Denisovans, 90% of whose genetic material is extant in modern Sapiens. The third would have involved Neanderthals and the ancestors of East Asians only, whose percentage of Neanderthal genetic material nears 20%.

One difficulty with Coon was his overly distinct racial categories. To some degree he realized this, even while recognizing many subraces, racial mixtures, and incipient formenkreis (before the phenomenon had a name). The problem was that these incipient races kept interbreeding at their verges (and even farther afield; consider Vikings, Mongols, and Polynesians), and accelerating racial mixture after 1500, when human populations began interbreeding willy-nilly, because of globalization.

And that, dear reader, is why Gould and others eschew human racial classifications.

Meanwhile, human evolution, ignoring all the tedious debates, continues to surprise us. The April 21 issue of The Economist reports the discovery of a new human racial variant in the Malay Archipelago. The Bajau people spend almost all of their lives at sea. “They survive on a diet composed almost entirely of seafood. And . . . spend 60% of their working day underwater . . . They sometimes descend more than 70 meters (240 feet) and can stay submerged for up to five minutes . . . They have lived like this for at least 1,000 years.” The evidence suggests strongly that these astonishing abilities are genetic, the result of mutations and natural selection.

The Bajau spleen, an organ that acts as an emergency reserve of oxygenated red blood cells, is 50% larger than those of neighboring populations — “a difference unconnected with whether an individual was a prolific diver or one who spent most of his time working above the waves on a boat. This suggests that it is the Bajau lineage rather than the actual activity of diving, which is responsible for a larger spleen,” continues The Economist.

There is nothing in any of this to suggest that race should be used for political purposes by governments and demagogues — Hitler, Castro, and others.

DNA analysis tells a similar story: a series of Bajau genetic mutations controls blood flow preferentially to oxygen-starved vital organs; another that slows the build-up of carbon dioxide in the bloodstream and one that controls muscle contractions around the spleen.

What to make of all this? Human racial differences, both behavioral and phenotypic, exist and are worth studying: for medicine, forensic science, DNA studies and just for basic scientific knowledge. Genes are not destiny; they encode broad parameters for modification, in the uterine environment, through nurturing, and now through technology (for better or worse). There is nothing in any of this to suggest that race should be used for political purposes by governments and demagogues — Hitler, Castro, and others.

Will Americans in general ever achieve Arnaldo Ochoa’s insouciance about race? We can only hope. After a Civil War, the Emancipation Proclamation, Reconstruction, the Ku Klux Klan, Jim Crow, segregation, and Civil Rights, we’re now experiencing a heightened sensitivity in the finer details of race relations — probably a good indication of the tremendous progress that has been made in the fundamentals.




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Clueless in Seattle

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In Seattle, where I have spent most of my life, I often walk around a lake near where I live — Green Lake, which is bordered by a strip of public park. It is the most popular park in the city, hosting walkers, runners, skaters, and bicyclists on the paved path around the water. In this urban idyll a coven of campers lives year-round in RVs and tents or, in good weather, sleeps in the open on the ground. If I drive to the University of Washington, I go past another encampment near the freeway exit. Under an overpass by the University Bridge is a rag-and-cardboard hovel surrounded by stolen Safeway carts and piles of garbage.

We didn’t have this when I was growing up here in the 1960s, or many years afterward. Then you could see alcoholics in downtown Seattle, where they sat on park benches and drank. We called them bums. They were male, and mostly white or Native American. They lived in missions and flophouses. They didn’t pitch tents under overpasses and in city parks, because the city didn’t allow it. Legally it still doesn’t, but legality alone doesn’t matter. Seattle does allow it, which is why people do it.

Seattle’s unemployment rate is close to 3%, which is as low as it ever gets. There is plenty of work.

The mix looks different now. I see modern nylon tents, some of them with bicycles parked next to them, or discarded office chairs. Many of the homeless have electronic devices to play music.

The situation is not at all like the famous picture from the 1930s of the “Hooverville” of squatter shacks with the pointed top of the Smith Tower in the background. That was a time of social emergency, of 20 or 30% unemployment. Today the city is booming. Seattle’s unemployment rate is close to 3%, which is as low as it ever gets. There is plenty of work. As I write, within one block of my house are two “Help Wanted” signs on restaurants. Within five blocks are several building sites where work has been repeatedly stopped, probably because of the shortage of labor.

Nor is the problem that Seattle is nasty to the homeless. Quite the contrary. I refer to The Hungry American, a book self-published 2004 by Tom McDevitt, an Idaho doctor who went slumming as his retirement project. Of all the cities in which he practiced being a bum — Pocatello, Salt Lake, Phoenix, San Francisco, New York, and Seattle — my city was the most generous. But in none of those cities, he said, did the homeless starve. The hunger he saw in the Sad Sacks around him “was not of the belly kind, but the gnawing hunger for tobacco, alcohol, drugs and relief for a tortured mind,” he wrote. “In America people are homeless because either consciously or subconsciously they want to be homeless.”

To Seattle progressives this is a cold, insensitive, reactionary, and racist point of view. Their view was correctly expressed in the Seattle Times last November by Adrienne Quinn, who earned $188,662 in 2017 as director of the King County (Seattle) Department of Community and Human Services.

When I see people living in tents on the shores of Green Lake, living out of rat’s-nest cars and RVs within a mile of my house, am I really to believe that it is not their fault?

“Homelessness is a symptom of failures in the child-welfare system, racism, wage inequity, the failure to adequately fund mental-health and addiction services, and skyrocketing housing costs,” she wrote. “Not being able to find an apartment for less than $2,000 a month, or being put on waitlists for housing or treatment, or living in foster homes as a child are not individual failings; they are societal failings.”

I have a relative who is adopting two boys from foster care. Before being in foster care they were living on the street and eating out of dumpsters. Their plight was terrible. But it was the fault of individuals, not “society.” The individuals at fault were their parents, who were heroin addicts.

When I see people — white men, mostly — living in tents on the shores of Green Lake, living out of rat’s-nest cars and RVs within a mile of my house, am I really to believe that it is not their fault? The other day I asked one of the Green Lake maintenance men about the camper that has been parked all winter in lower Woodland Park, a few hundred feet from the sign that says, “No Camping.”

“We can’t do anything about that,” he said. “They send social workers to talk to those guys.” The social workers’ job is to convince the homeless to use social services.

That’s Seattle.

The Seattle Times has a special team funded by outside donors — Starbucks, the Seattle Mariners, the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, and others — that writes about nothing but the homeless. Recently the Times had a story about the death on April 5 of Sabrina Tate, 27, who had been living out of a camper in a city-sanctioned homeless parking lot the politicians called a “safe zone.”

Economically, Seattle is a stunningly successful city.

Sabrina Tate was from Spokane, a city less transformed by entrepreneurial capitalism than Seattle. She got into the drug lifestyle as a teenager, after her parents divorced, and she eventually moved to the Pacific Northwest’s big city. She became a heroin addict and was for some years. In February she had gone back to Spokane and seen her mother, who was alarmed that Sabrina’s legs were swollen and infected as a side effect of drug use. Her mother offered to take her to the hospital to treat her legs and kick the heroin, but Sabrina insisted on returning to the “safe zone” and her camper, where shortly thereafter she was found dead on the floor.

Her parents got back together long enough to come to Seattle to see where their daughter had lived and died. They had never seen it. Inside Sabrina’s RV, wrote Times reporter Vianna Davila

The place was trashed. Flies buzzed around rotted food. There was hardly any room on the floor, though investigators told them that’s where her body was found. Much of the floor was covered with wet clothes, possibly the result of a leak in the roof. This looked nothing like the picture she had painted for them.

Her parents may never know if this was how Sabrina lived. They were told by police that the RV was quickly ransacked after her death.

The Times reporter recorded the reaction of Sabrina’s father, Tommi Tate. “I’m furious,” he said. Furious with his addict daughter? Furious with himself? Of course not. He was furious with the government.

“This kind of stuff shouldn’t happen and it doesn’t need to happen, and it’s only going to stop if people quit looking the other way and if our governments really, truly care,” he said. “Shame on Seattle.”

Shame on Seattle?

Reading that, I wanted to say, “Hey! You're her father. Where wereyou? It wasn’t the government's job to care about your daughter; it was yours. And at age 27, it was hers, and had been for some time. She made years and years of bad choices to get where she was. It had nothing to do with whether public employees ‘really, truly cared.’”

The median price of a single-family house in Seattle has jumped to $800,000. The median rent on a one-bedroom apartment is pushing $2,000.

This story spoke strongly to me, because I have a son the same age as the dead girl. The difference is, he is healthy and has a career and a home. Why is that? Is it because the city employees here really, truly cared for him?

Enough stupid questions.

Economically, Seattle is a stunningly successful city. Recalling the city I knew as a kid back in the early 1960s, I remember the brick buildings downtown, most of them, like the Smith Tower, built in a burst of investment in the second and third decades of the century. That old downtown has been buried in a forest of glass-and-steel skyscrapers, the latest of which are being built for Amazon. For most of my life, the city population was stuck between 525,000 and 550,000. Suddenly it’s at 700,000. Including Seattle, King County’s population is now 2.1 million.

Among the state’s 39 counties, King County, the largest in population, has the highest average per-capita personal income. Seattle’s figure is $40,868, more than 40% above the U.S. average. King County is the home to Boeing’s commercial airplane division, Microsoft, Amazon, Starbucks, Costco and Nordstrom. It is the home of Jeff Bezos, Paul Allen, and Bill Gates.

To the disappointment to the Democrats who run state government in Olympia, Washington does not have a state income tax.

The median price of a single-family house in Seattle has jumped to $800,000. The median rent on a one-bedroom apartment is pushing $2,000. Part of this is because of Seattle’s restrictive zoning code and King County’s growth-management policy, and the Left mostly ignores this, but the commercial growth is the most important reason.

Politically, King County is the most leftwing county in the state. Here’s the picture from 2016, in which Hillary Clinton easily carried the state of Washington. Statewide, Donald Trump took 37% of the vote. In King County, he got 21%. In Seattle, he got 9%. Since the 1980s, Seattle has been a one-party town. To be identified as a Republican in this city is instant political death.

But we do have a communist on the city council.

Am I “red-baiting?” I suppose so. Councilwoman Kshama Sawant calls herself a socialist and says she’s for democracy. But she has identified herself as a member of Socialist Alternative, which the Internet tells me is a Trotskyist organization — meaning Leon Trotsky, former chief commissar of the Red Army. Sawant’s campaign manager told me she was a Marxist, and in listening to her when she first ran for office, I judged that he was correct. She came out for nationalizing Boeing, for example. If all that doesn’t justify the c-word, then I withdraw it. Sawant is pretty far left, though. She voted against Seattle’s famous $15-an-hour minimum wage law because it wasn’t strong enough.

The rest of Seattle’s city council is all deeply Progressive. And given the view around here of the “root causes” of people sleeping in the park, there should be no surprise at the solution the council has reached.

Raise taxes on business.

Seattle is not a low-tax city. We have a property tax that hits most homeowners between $5,000 and $10,000 a year, and a retail sales tax at the nose-bleeding level of 10.1%. (Buy a car here, and feel the pain.) We have a tax on soda pop and a tax on disposable grocery bags. But to the disappointment to the Democrats who run state government in Olympia, Washington does not have a state income tax. The people voted for one in 1932, but the Washington Supreme Court threw it out, and statewide voters have since rejected it four times. Seattle has tried to impose a city income tax, and has been blocked in the courts.

This is a tax on employment to fund non-employment.

Now to the matter at hand, the head tax. This is how Seattle’s ruling class — its political ruling class — proposes to raise the $75 million it wants for the homeless: a 26-cent-an-hour tax on payrolls of companies with at least $20 million in annual gross sales.

Work out the math. Twenty-six cents an hour is more than $500 per employee per year. This is a tax on employment to fund non-employment. And the only employers obliged to pay it would be the for-profit companies. As I read it, the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation would not have to pay, nor would Seattle’s big multimillion-dollar medical groups — Swedish, Virginia Mason, and Kaiser Permanente Washington — nor would Recreational Equipment Inc., a membership cooperative. Neither Boeing nor Microsoft nor (except one store) Costco Wholesale would have to pay, because they are not actually based in the city. But Nordstrom and Starbucks would have to pay, as would Amazon, which put itself right where Seattle progressives wanted, near the light-rail line at the north end of downtown. Amazon would be nailed for some $20 million a year.

And CEO Jeff Bezos, who has Amazon looking for a second headquarters city already, doesn’t want Amazon to pay. Amazon has announced that it is suspending planning for its next Seattle skyscraper, and that if the head tax is passed, it will build somewhere else.

The push for a head tax has not gone unchallenged. An opposition now coalesces.

I haven’t heard anyone say the company doesn’t mean it. The leaders of the Aerospace Machinists did say that a decade ago when Boeing threatened to open an assembly line for the 787 jet transport in South Carolina unless it got a ten-year no-strike agreement in the labor contract. The union guys didn’t believe the company. They rejected the concessions — and Boeing opened the line in South Carolina, just as it said. People in Seattle also remember when Boeing moved its corporate headquarters to Chicago.

They believe Bezos’ threat.

And the Left’s attitude toward this? Katie Herzog, writer for The Stranger, Seattle’s left-wing entertainment weekly, quotes Bezos on The Stranger’s blog saying that he wants to put his personal billions into space travel. Confusing Bezos’s personal money with Amazon’s corporate money, she writes:

“WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK, JEFF BEZOS??? THE ONLY WAY TO SPEND YOUR MONEY IS SENDING IT TO SPACE???? Please, excuse me for a moment while I go burn my Prime membership. (Just kidding. I use my dad's.) Here's one way Bezos, who has yet to make any significant philanthropic mark on the world, could spend his 130 billion dollars: PAY THE FUCKING HEAD TAX.”

I hear people who are angry — and almost all of them are Democrats.

Socialist Councilwoman Sawant, Herzog writes, should lock Bezos in a room and convince him to “get his shining head out of his ass and start using his wealth to help people other than himself.”

That is the Seattle Left in full, in its ideas and its manners.

The push for a head tax has not gone unchallenged. An opposition now coalesces. It includes the Greater Seattle Chamber of Commerce and other business groups long accustomed to the political culture called Seattle Nice. It includes the Seattle Times editorial page, which is urging Seattle Mayor Jenny Durkan to veto it. (Durkan, whom the Times supported for mayor, was Obama’s US Attorney here.) And when our socialist councilwoman and her groupies held a protest in front of Amazon’s new skyscraper, they faced a counterprotest of union ironworkers — the proletarians who would lose the chance to build Amazon’s new skyscraper.

The final vote is not scheduled until May 14. But whatever happens, much good has come of this. I hear people who are angry — and almost all of them are Democrats. Maybe Seattle will develop a two-party system — not a Republican-and-Democrat system, but some kind of opposition, some kind of choice. If it does, I will vote for whoever carries its flag.




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No Cheers for Democracy

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Democracy, the most celebrated religion of both the Left and Right, has spread like wildfire. Zimbabwe has recently fallen for more democracy. Social movements in the Middle East — with the most recent one known as the Arab Spring — are inching the area toward more democracy. Even in reclusive Saudi Arabia democracy is slowly gaining an upper hand. Bangladesh, Myanmar, Pakistan, and Nepal are solidifying their democracies; their military or traditional-religious heads have found it increasingly difficult to assert their will. Many political leaders in Africa now vacate their seats in response to the verdict of their citizens.

Democracy is winning. It is a religion, a faith, which is seen as an objective, universal truth, a truth that cannot be challenged. It is the solution to all ills. It is perfect and cannot be damaged by evidence. When a society does well, the true believers attribute this to an improvement in democracy. When a democratic system does not work — as it doesn’t in Africa, Latin America, the Middle East, and South Asia — the blame must go elsewhere. The true believers always ask for more democracy.

South Africa has continued to become more democratic, with its institutions increasingly reflecting the wishes and the culture of the masses. The political leadership is now openly in support of expropriating farms from the minorities. The masses, quite fallaciously, believe that such acts will improve their lot.

The true believers always ask for more democracy.

In 1994, before the advent of democracy, South Africa had a first-world infrastructure. Today, there are random electrical outages, water supply is in deep crisis, roads are bad, and crime is off the charts. Hate-crime against the minorities, including vicious torture and sadistic rape, is on the rise. For more than two decades the canniest people of South Africa have been emigrating to Canada, Australia, or the US.

The end of apartheid — in 1994 — did not have to begin the rule of the masses, but it did. Democracy has slowly changed the nation’s institutions, adjusting them to the mass’s demands and whims. The minority are whites, so the media and the intellectuals pay little heed to their rights. According to the media’s definition of “racist,” only whites can be that way.

Was South African apartheid a bad policy? Is the Indian caste system regressive? It is easy to say “yes” — and move on. But all changes in social and political systems have their collateral damages. A culture of individualism, decentralization, and the rule of law emerged in Europe to reduce collateral damage. From this point of view, supremacist democracy has been a disastrous regression.

The end of apartheid did not have to begin the rule of the masses, but it did.

South Africa now has apartheid against the whites, one consequence of which has been the destruction of the lives of blacks as well. The white minority — even today — is the intellectual and business spine of South Africa. As the minority loses its grip or emigrates, South Africa is imploding. Can the masses, peasants, and politicians not see what is coming? Apparently they cannot — which is the reason why democracy puts a society in a vicious cycle. Not just South Africa but the emerging democracies of Egypt, Myanmar, Papua New Guinea, and Nepal have been on assured paths to disaster.

Instead of thinking through why democracy might be the reason for the failure of societies, Western intellectuals blame a made-up recession in the number of democracies. When things go wrong, they credit the situation to a lack of democracy, even if democracy has been in ascendancy. If their rationalizations are no longer tenable, through circular reasoning they define and redefine “democracy” to ensure that it stays on the pedestal.

Over the long haul, Turkey and Malaysia have been among the best examples of progress in the third world. Not only have they become increasingly democratic but their GDPs per capita have grown relentlessly, making them middle-class societies. Both also have Muslim majorities; there is likely no other country in which increasing democracy in a Muslim majority society coincided with rapidly rising GDP per capita and maintenance of stability.

Can the masses, peasants, and politicians not see what is coming? Apparently they cannot.

It was not too far in the past that Turkey was under strict secular control by the army. Then, in 1997, the military asked the then Prime Minister, Necmettin Erbakan, to resign. His fault was that he had mixed religion with politics. Pressure from the US and international organizations meant that Turkey had to become more democratic and distance itself from the rule of the military.

It might be claimed that Turkey improved economically and socially because of this strengthening of its democracy. But Turkey was merely one beneficiary of a general trend of economic growth affecting the third world. The economies of Turkey, Malaysia, Latin America, South Asia, Africa, in fact, every country and particularly non-democratic China grew rapidly during the past two decades. None of them grew because of democracy. They grew because of the electronic revolution. Ironically, the growth of non-democratic China changed the economic structure of the world and made it possible for the third world to benefit, as the crumbs fall into its lap. Because it suited their purpose, ideologues credited this all to “democracy.”

But now, as democracy has grown, politics in Turkey and Malaysia increasingly reflect the will of the masses. Masses in the West might care more about hedonism, but it is religion, magical thinking, and the afterlife that occupy the minds of the masses in the third world. Fanaticism — hence totalitarianism and diminishment of the individual — has been growing rapidly in Turkey and Malaysia.

Most people in top positions in the media, the IMF, the World Bank, etc., maintain the usual, regurgitated, and extremely favorable view of democracy and multiculturalism. This has to be the case, for they cannot say (and eventually even think) anything that might be (mis)interpreted as racist, or they will be thrown out of their jobs. The result is that political correctness has absolute control over the institutions of the West.

Fanaticism — hence totalitarianism and diminishment of the individual — has been growing rapidly in Turkey and Malaysia.

Of course, it requires little reflection to notice that democracy isn’t the panacea it is made out to be. Quite to the contrary, it has been an unmitigated disaster for the third world. The Khmer Rouge in Cambodia had massive public support when they took power. During their rule, the guards at the concentration camps soon became the inmates, while the earlier inmates were sent to the killing fields after grotesque torture and dismemberment. Even the topmost “leaders” got caught up in this cycle of brutality. In a period of just over three years, they managed to kill as much as 25% of the population.

What they did in Cambodia is something no sane person, using the lenses of Western culture and political correctness, can understand. But perhaps that is exactly what needs to be understood to see the underpinning problems of democracy. One must understand the psyche of the masses and the peasants.

A vast majority of even the world’s enlightened society is made up of people who have no interest in public policy. While in the West, this is often reflected in an expectation of free-stuff and resulting social welfare programs, the counterpart in the third world is usually tribal and superstitious. In the West, the desires of the masses result in a politics of redistribution and envy, a win-lose paradigm that, like a termite from within, slowly destroys the morals and the institutions of society. In poor countries, these desires result in a politics that is increasingly sociopathic and tyrannical, a lose-lose paradigm.

To see the underpinning problems of democracy, one must understand the psyche of the masses and the peasants.

I travel around the world to understand what is happening, without the lenses of political correctness distorting my understanding. One soundbite that I often hear from economic analysts is that if a country wants to keep growing it has to allow entrepreneurialism to take hold, reduce regulations and the size of the state, and do what is right. If that is the way the world worked, in this modern age of technology there would have been no reason for vast areas of the world to suffer from abject poverty. These economists are either politically correct (or else they would be thrown out of their jobs), living in gated communities (real or virtual), or simply naive. In any case, they are paid well to stay ignorant about the problems that democracy is afflicting on the third world, and increasingly in the first world.

Why can the masses not see the problems they are creating for themselves by voting to destroy their wealth-generating class, the backbone of their society? Why do they not see that they are creating tyranny for themselves by imposing through their vote fanaticism in their institutions, a contest in which there is no winner? Why cannot the wisdom of the crowds — democracy — provide improvement in governance? Why don’t their collective votes align their economic structures for growth?

For the third world, tribalism and magical thinking are the mental and cultural operating system. While they claim to seek peace and economic growth, there is a list of numerous other dominant considerations — superstitions, religious dogma, the afterlife, pride in the tribe, which makes the individual impotent, the everpresent fear of Satan, family entanglements, envy, ego, and a conspicuous lack of understanding of the concept of causality. Even if they are keen on economic growth, their irrationality assures that they do more of what created their poverty, in a vain attempt to remove their poverty.

Economists are paid well to stay ignorant about the problems that democracy is afflicting on the third world, and increasingly in the first world.

The situation gets rapidly worse as you go down the class hierarchies of these societies and arrive at the people who mathematically are the major voting bloc. The peasants are traditionally tribal, superstitious, and envious. In a democracy, the bottom 51% of a society decides the nature of its institutions. Institutions take a long time to change, but eventually the psychology of the masses, their irrationalities, and their tribalism permeates it.

Many people worry ad nauseam that the USA supports the totalitarian regime in Saudi Arabia. But people from that area know that were Saudi Arabia to become democratic, it would become much more fanatical. While isolated locals might ask for more liberties, and their voice be exaggerated by the Western press, making Saudi government look like the one remaining province of tyranny, the masses insist on an increase in totalitarianism. While a few isolated women might burn their hijabs, the majority of women insist on them.

And what about other countries?

Quite in contrast to video images of recent protests, and the Western narrative of Iranians asking for liberties, 83% of Iranians favor the use of sharia law. It is a no-brainer that more democracy isn’t going to change Iran in the way romantics in the West think it will.

A rule of, by, and for the peasantry is the maturing of democracy, and it never ends well for anyone, including the peasants.

Syria is nothing but an advanced stage of the Arab Spring, of the movement for democracy. So, mutatis mutandis, is Venezuela, where the culture of the masses and peasants has seeped into the government. With each gyration of democracy, Pakistan has become an increasingly Islamic state, where a word against the holy book results in a death penalty. India, the world’s biggest democracy, is rapidly taking the same course, as its deep-rooted superstitions, tribalism, and magical thinking continue to permeate its institutions.

We must again ask whether any democratic change would increase the rule of law and the culture of individualism — or whether it would be detrimental to both.

A rule of, by, and for the peasantry is the maturing of democracy, and it never ends well for anyone, including the peasants. The peasant revolutions of Mao’s China, Stalin’s Russia, Pol Pot’s Cambodia, and the innumerable civil wars of sub-Saharan Africa have virtually no competitors in causing misery and destruction. Peasants, except in New Age literature, have high time preference; they lack education, critical thinking, and rationality; and they are unskilled in planning. They focus at best on the immediate accumulation of resources. Allowed to feel victimized, allowed to pass responsibility onto others for their predicament, they happily do so.

But haven’t the elite, the intellectuals, the businessmen, the entrenched classes, the feudal lords not been exploitative?

In Brazil, India, and Venezuela the middle class is extremely corrupt. In the caste system of India, the lower caste does not even exist as human being in the minds of the upper caste. The elites are the exploiting class. But when the peasants get into power, there are no limits left for corruption and exploitation. They enable lose-lose tyranny and brutality — pure, unadulterated savagery.

All power structures are exploitative. The question is which one does the most for society.

The state is a totalitarian instrument. Apartheid was the same. The caste system is the same. Among all these systems, the rule of peasants — democracy — is the worst. Their inability to think of the future and understand public policy means that once in control, they rapidly destroy the institutions, enter a phase of hedonism, go into conflicts over resources, or simply destroy the country’s capital, eventually trending society toward Malthusian equilibrium. One has to spend time in backward societies to see how, as if by magic, the masses instinctively destroy any advantages they get from technology and economic growth.

Capital, civilization, and prosperity do not occur in nature. Increasing capital and even maintaining it is the job of the elite — not of masses or peasants. All power structures are exploitative. The question is which one does the most for society and what steps to take to move society toward more liberty. Democracy isn’t that next step forward.




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Making It Work

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Libertarian policy proposals are often ridiculed for being too impractical and naively idealistic. This article will put forward practical solutions for implementing libertarian policies in ways that can, and will, work in the real world. Privatization and healthcare, two areas in which libertarian policy is hotly contested, are the focus.

I’ll start with a summary of two objections to freedom and follow with a solution for overcoming that objection. I will then add details.

First Objection: infrastructure — such as roads and train lines — and utilities cannot be privatized because they are natural monopolies: two operators cannot compete along the same line at the same time.

Most people are aware that public monopolies are often mismanaged by operators who have no accountability to the public.

First Solution: if the right to operate the space, be it the road, or train line, or power line, were auctioned off for very short periods, at open competitive bidding, it stands to reason that the efficient privatization company would make enough money to place the highest bid at the next round, and would have operated in the best way possible to maximize profits and consumers (if consumers cared to listen to reason). In other words, private operators would compete along the vector of time, not space, with the most efficient one winning the highest profit and likely making the highest bid for the next slot of time.

Second Objection: under the present system, which evolved under capitalism, health insurers pay for the healthcare of the people who pay healthcare premiums, the premiums bearing no direct relation to the healthcare actually received. The system would have to work this way, because the whole idea of insurance is that you pay for the risk that you may one day need insurance, not for the actual healthcare you receive thereafter. This system causes a disconnect between the healthcare buyers and the healthcare sellers, enabling the sellers to jack up their prices. Only big government and a bunch of crusty, arrogant, elitist bureaucrats have the power to step in and force prices down to affordable levels by setting or capping prices by law.

Second Solution: to the extent that health insurance as such poses a structural tendency to sever payment from delivery of service, the problem can be solved not by leaning toward big government but by moving toward greater freedom in free-market competition. Require doctors to publish schedules of what services they offer and at what costs, as would be reasonable in any capitalist system in which sellers must be honest about what they are selling. Then drastically deregulate health insurers so that any entrepreneur can start a health insurance company and compete in any state, across state lines. In this ideal world, health insurers would compete in a marketplace — not a fake Obamacare exchange but a real capitalist free market.

What this natural monopoly thought process ignores is that there are many ways for companies to compete, if you think outside the box.

What will naturally evolve from this is a situation in which, to pass along as much cost saving to customers as possible, in order to get as much business as possible, some health insurers will develop a system for the insureds to prepay for the price services they want, from specific doctors at specific prices. Then, if they get sick and need those services, they will get what they shopped and paid for. The actual payment mechanism would still be the insurer pooling all payments and then paying after the fact for the people who got sick, but price competition would force doctors to lower their prices to competitive levels to get buyers, and this same pricing pressure would force health insurers to pass along the best deal to the buyer. Premiums would be applied after the fact, pro rata, to the healthcare that people chose to buy before the fact. A buyer will compare prices and choose a seller, and buyers and sellers will naturally converge at the equilibrium price point between supply and demand — which as (smart, sane, rational, libertarian) economists know, is the right antidote for monopolistic price gouging.

Details:

Examples of so-called natural monopolies include transit routes, bandwidth, electric utilities and power lines, cable service, garbage collection, and air space for planes or drones.

“Natural monopoly” public infrastructure can be privatized. And they should be privatized. Most people are aware that public monopolies are often mismanaged by operators who have no accountability to the public.

But it is assumed that there can be no competing alternatives, since the land or space simply isn’t there. So let there be a monopoly, but have the government regulate it so it will be forced it to sell at price points below the monopoly price. What this natural monopoly thought process ignores is that there are many ways for companies to compete, if you think outside the box.

Competition in running natural monopoly infrastructure can take place along the dimension of time, not of space, such that, when the natural monopolies are privatized, what is sold is a lease, essentially, to last two or three years, but no longer. The buyer would have every right to do whatever he likes with the land or infrastructure and monetize and run it as he pleases, but only for the term of the lease, at which point the right to buy the next period of time would be up for open bidding and awarded to the highest bidder. Economic efficiency and capitalist theory dictate that the company that can make the most money from such an enterprise will tend to be both the highest bidder and the company that can continue to run it the best. If a transit route is run badly, sales will flag, profits will drop, and the opportunity will arise for someone better to place a higher bid in the next round. Thus, even with only one owner, there will be competition in the economic sense.

If you believe instead, as smart people do, that money is made in a free society by creating high quality at an affordable price where supply meets demand, then the objection collapses.

Additions to the scheme may need to be made, such as requiring a pro rata portion of an operator’s profits to be paid back to previous owners who invested in long-term durable equipment or improvements from which the current owner benefits. But such additions are not difficult to design. As a bonus, if any contractor commits massive fraud against the consumer, this will be easy to see, because if a competing operator wins the next lease bid, when he looks at the infrastructure he will see what the previous operator did to it, and consumers will be protected better than we would be under heavy regulator scrutiny.

Today’s economy already proves that this will work. There are hundreds of huge corporations that buy some downstream service from only one seller, for the term of a lease; and there is ample price competition, even though only one seller can get the deal to be a supplier at one time. The companies that sell “back end” human resources services (outsourced services such as paychecks and benefits management) to Fortune 500 corporations are an example: a buyer can sensibly go with only one seller at a time, but there is a ton of competition. Another example: places exist where various owners own the rights to different heights above the ground of a single plot of land, so that two companies can compete by owning different floors of the same building, competing along the dimension of height, not of length.

The person who made the original objection to privatization will object again, saying that the rich will bid big to get ownership of the monopoly, charge high prices while offering crappy service, and run away after their lease ends — taking profits derived from forcing people to pay a lot for a service with no alternatives. The operators’ costs would have been low, since they didn’t give a damn about infrastructure investments. But this objection reduces merely to the general argument against free market capitalism. The Marxists and socialists think that rich people get rich by fleecing their victims. If you believe instead, as smart people do, that money is made in a free society by creating high quality at an affordable price where supply meets demand, then the objection collapses. Specifically it is wrong because an operator who does a good job will always make more, net, long term, than a con artist, hence the good operator will have more money and more motivation to outbid the crooks.

New York City as subway operator does not, and cannot, spend the money it should to maintain the subway service as it deserves and needs.

This is not to say that the system can never be abused. No system is perfect. Privatization is certainly not less perfect that a regulated natural monopoly, and it would ultimately be far better. Just ask anyone who rides the subway in New York City: in addition to being a vital means of transportation for millions of New Yorkers, it is also the location that the wonderfully brainless liberal politicians of New York have chosen as the de facto living space for the mentally ill homeless people, just to get them off the streets. The bigger picture is that the economic demand for the subway would justify a rise in fares that is politically unpopular and therefore impossible. So New York City as subway operator does not, and cannot, spend the money it should to maintain the subway service as it deserves and needs. The New York Times even ran a crusade to get more spending for the subways, noting how horrible they are and how many people use them, which crusade did not succeed, and could not succeed. The free market would do better.

I have suggested two or three years as the basic contract period for the operation of natural monopolies. It needs to be short enough to enable consumers to hold bad operators accountable so that better ones can step in. Employees may not want two- or three-year contracts, and somewhat more may need to be paid them on this account. Nevertheless, we need to get away from the labor union mentality, according to which the labor pool only works if employees are chained to their jobs and employers are chained to long-term labor contracts. The United States is becoming "the gig economy," as they say, led by the Uber and Lyft drivers. A lot of industries are moving toward hiring employees for a temporary, shorter duration and away from hiring them for permanent, full-time jobs. Employees with strong professional skills are so valuable that no one who purchased a short-term lease on a natural monopoly would want to get rid of them.

As far as planning goes, there are examples in today's economy of businesses drawing up plans for long-term operations, because that is how they can best succeed, but if their basic contracts are not renewed, they just tear up the plans. In business you need long-term plans, but you also need to face the risk that these plans may fail dramatically, at any time. If you don't get investors in your second year of operation, you just eat the third, fourth and fifth years of your business plan, no matter how great those years might have been.

Thousands of small businesses will pop up to become micro-health insurers and facilitate the trade, between doctor and patient, of treatment for money.

Now to some details about healthcare. Free market economics doesn’t work if there is a disconnect between the person who pays the money for a benefit and the person who receives the benefit. The disconnect causes prices and costs to skyrocket, because the buyer cannot force the seller down. Many libertarians already know this: one of our objections to government spending is that the government will overspend because there is a disconnect between the taxpayer and the beneficiary. Healthcare, where the health insurer pays but the patient receives the treatment, and does not directly pay the doctor, and the doctors don’t compete for each individual patient on price, is a great example of a buy-sell disconnect.

The problem with health insurance is that, originally, it was in fact insurance that a person bought to mitigate the risk of getting sick, but it has become a behemoth that pays for all medical expenses and then collects exorbitant and arbitrary amounts from the public, with no connection between payments and collections in an individual patient’s case. The problem arises because, by the time people become sick, their medical costs are typically too great for them to pay, so they must have already had insurance to get treatment, and the insurance will then end up paying all costs.

To reform healthcare, first, require doctors, as a condition of receiving their license to practice medicine, or merely by means of laws mandating truth in advertising, to create a schedule of fees and prices for each of their services, and publish it, and let individual patients receive that care if they pay that fee from the schedule of rates. Second, break up the regulations of health insurance companies so that anyone can start one and can compete in every state with a minimum of red tape. Third, require that each health insurer publish the actuarial tables that each insurer is using, showing what portion of your payment will pay for what medical treatment in the future from what doctor’s schedule of fees. Fourth, allow the consumer to “buy” his future medical treatment by choosing what portion of his premium he chooses to allocate to the doctors’ services that he could potentially get, from the competing doctors’ fee schedules, “through” his health insurance company.

The doctors who succeeded would be those who proved they could deliver successful, effective treatments, but at cheaper prices.

The health insurer would pool the buyers’ payment to make the actual payment to the doctors for the insureds who become sick, but each buyer could take the income that he has allotted for health insurance and “spend” it by choosing the slate of healthcare services he would pay for at that price, selecting his doctor from among the competitors. Doctors would compete on the price to be chosen by each buyer when he decides how to allot his healthcare premium spend.

This would combine two novel approaches: “shopping” for treatment from the doctor, not the insurer, and expanding competition among health insurers by allowing small startup health insurers, akin to what was done for poor businesses in Asia by the “micro-credit” revolution that enabled any poor woman or man to open a business on a small loan. Thousands of small businesses will pop up to become micro-health insurers and facilitate the trade, between doctor and patient, of treatment for money. This would connect the buyer to the seller and enable massive price competition among doctors, so costs would plummet, because many doctors would seek patients by offering cheaper prices at affordable levels of quality. Obviously this would not lower the quality of healthcare, because the doctors who succeeded would be those who proved they could deliver successful, effective treatments, but at cheaper prices. In today’s world, where everyone finds ratings and reviews online, the doctors with the best value propositions, defined as higher quality at cheaper price, would be readily apparent.

The micro-health insurer could also prepay, locking the buyer and seller in at that price while taking profit up front and not when the healthcare is delivered. This would keep healthcare costs locked down at the competitive price the buyer chose to pay, and complete the sale for the buyer at the time of purchase, not after the fact when the patient-buyer becomes sick and his very life depends on paying for healthcare. Right now there are maybe a handful of insurers and 20 health insurance plans that compete in any given state Obamacare Exchange, but the initiative I have outlined would open the door to thousands of health insurers, and potentially hundreds of thousands of healthcare “menus” and “menu items” available to buyers pre-paying doctors a pro rata share of the healthcare premium cost of treatments received.

A free-market system could work for the benefit of all Americans by introducing price competition into the healthcare industry.

The analogy of healthcare options to a menu at a restaurant is apropos. People need food. If you don’t have it, you die, just as a sick person who needs medical treatment gets it or dies. This does not enable the farms to jack up the price of food until it is out of sight, as doctors, hospitals, and pharmaceutical makers are doing. Instead, thousands of restaurants and grocery stores compete, buying food from farms and selling it as a selection of options on a menu. People buy what they want, within the limits of their budget. Consumers win, and have tasty meals and full bellies. Yes, poor people may have to eat at cheap fast food stores, but they don’t starve to death (and the food at Dunkin Donuts is not that bad!). If you are willing to make do with less, such as by purchasing vegetables and cooking your food at home, you can eat quite nicely. So, too, could a free-market system work for the benefit of all Americans by introducing price competition into the healthcare industry, which would create affordable options across a range of price points.

The conclusion to infer from this article is that, while the statists object that libertarian policy cannot be implemented in a practical manner, this is simply not true. Thinking outside the box, and being creative and innovative about policy solutions, will meet the challenge of making liberty work for America.




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The Fake Facebook Scandal

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The Founding Fathers of the United States of America had a vision of an educated public kept informed by a vigilant, incisive press. If a crystal ball had granted them a vision of what the Fourth Estate has become nowadays, they'd have gone home, and we'd be paying taxes in pound sterling.

Case in point: the Facebook affair, a manufactured scandal that would make William Randolph Hearst and his anti-Spanish campaign look like pikers. Granted, we have seen quite a few artificial outbursts coming from a disarrayed press, but this one is rather peculiar and thus deserves a second look.

If a crystal ball had granted the Founding Fathers a vision of what the Fourth Estate has become nowadays, we'd still be paying taxes in pound sterling.

It is no mystery that Facebook painstakingly accumulates a detailed profile of every user. Their locations, habits, purchases, relationships, and opinions are carefully analyzed and stored. These data will then be sold to advertisers or marketers.

Collecting consumer data is not in itself a groundbreaking feature. Since the 1970s, such marketing data giants as Epsilon and Acxiom have made a fortune by collecting and analyzing our credit card purchases, travel habits, magazine subscriptions, and financial information. What Facebook brings is a very precise knowledge of its users, obtained by dissecting their posts, their "likes," and their friend lists. A fast, automated review of user profiles can easily establish their political leanings.

A.M.G. downloaded Facebook data on every American user — so much data that it triggered an alert in Facebook's monitoring system.

Like most companies collecting user data, Facebook exploits this information to sell ads and resell user data to third parties. In exchange for the free service, users click through a lengthy consent form and become the product that Facebook sells. Third-party companies purchasing user data are the actual Facebook customers. Facebook created and published an "API" (Application Programming Interface), a way for third-party programmers to query and receive Facebook user data — provided they pay.

From 2010 to 2015 or so, Facebook allowed customers using their API to download and keep user data. Many Facebook customers took advantage of the feature. Among these customers was the firm A.M.G., which worked for the 2012 Obama campaign to identify hesitant voters in swing states. A.M.G. downloaded Facebook data on every American user — so much data that it triggered an alert in Facebook's monitoring system. Facebook looked the other way and told the campaign it could go on until the election — which is not surprising, considering that Zuckerberg's company was, from the inception, militantly leftist.

Zuckerberg stooped to abject apologies for something that was done legally and publicly.

The 2016 Trump campaign hired a British data mining company, Cambridge Analytica, which also used Facebook user data. It remains to be seen how helpful this was. However, every anti-Trump activist can now blame Facebook for the election of Trump, who obviously — or so the "reasoning" goes — would not have been elected without the Facebook superpowers usurped by Cambridge Analytica. How did Zuckerberg, an irreproachable progressive until then, dare lend some of his divine grace to such a devil? Traitor! Have him drawn and quartered!

Thus the press suddenly turned against Facebook and its creator. The business-as-usual data sale was deemed a "breach" or a "leak," which is actually a redeeming wording, since it implies that Facebook's juicy data were not voluntarily sold to the Enemy.

In a sane world, Zuckerberg would have released an open letter to the press that would go like this:

Dear journalists,

Thank you for amply demonstrating why idiocy-uttering cannot be an Olympic discipline: the arena would simply be overcrowded by you cheap hacks vying for the gold.

The current topic of your inept blabber is the way the Trump campaign used Facebook data to produce targeted ads.

However, a simple foray into the archives of your own papers would show that not so long ago, you were swooning at the cleverness of the Obama campaign’s use of Facebook's technology to unceremoniously slurp the friend list of every American user. The campaign used these data to concoct ads and sway voters soured by Obama's first four years. Back then it was genius. Remember? Hey, I still have the message you sent to your friends recommending the raving article about A.M.G. Right above the pictures of this arugula salad you had for lunch.

Today, you pretend to blush and faint at the "revelation" that several companies, included one Cambridge Analytica, bought similar services and thus got similar info. I got news for you (I know, you aren't doing much of these anymore, nowadays — sorry for the discomfort). I didn't get filthy rich by letting Mrs. Smith upload pictures of little Timmy's pasta collage for his granny. I make money by accumulating detailed data about Timmy, his parents, his grandma, their freaking dog, and the whole entourage of this sadly ordinary family. Along with hundreds of millions of other working stiffs. Then I sold those data to anybody who happened to possess the requisite amount of cash and immorality. Talk to your publisher. See the Facebook button on the front page of your rag's web site? That's right: your employer is selling me data about your readers.

So lose the antics and get back to "reporting" about Russians and the NRA. Or I might follow the lead of my pal Bezos and buy a few of your outfits, replace you with a cheap guy on an H-1B, and make sure that the only job you'll ever find is cleaning spittoons.

Love and kisses,
Z.

Sadly, Mark Zuckerberg didn't write anything of the sort. To the contrary, he stooped to abject apologies for something that was done legally and publicly. He self-flagellated and accepted an imaginary complicity with the election of Trump, an act that makes him despised by his liberal pals grasping at straws to delegitimize the president.

Now, Zuckerberg might be a greedy sociopath and a cloying statist, but he is not an idiot. And he doesn't give off the martyr vibe, either. So what’s going on?

Like every good rentseeking statist, Zuckerberg is now turning to the force of government.

Let's go back to Timmy for a second. He is now 12 and developing new friendships. But Grandma has invaded his Facebook news feed with links to her bingo tournaments, and mom's friends' comments on his potty training are still visible to all in her history. There is no way he can use this trite, embarrassing channel to communicate with his cool preteen friends. And Timmy is not alone. According to market research company eMarketer, 5 to 10% of young users — from preteens to age 25 — are dropping off Facebook every year. Just when they are becoming juicy advertising targets. Not to mention the odd libertarian outraged by the company's shoddy practices and sneaky censorship.

So Zuckerberg needs to stop the user hemorrhage. He can take a risk and change the services and features offered by Facebook. He tried a few times, but these changes either backfired or failed to retain users.

Thus, like every good rentseeking statist, Zuckerberg is now turning to the force of government. He is advocating regulation that would force social media companies to increase transparency on ads and fight hate speech. And ban offensive messages. And vet content. And more.

Interestingly, Facebook is already severely limiting free speech. To voice a non-Marxist opinion on Zuckerberg's platform is to take the risk of being suddenly banned by his anonymous, unaccountable censors. Zuckerberg employs a horde of rabid activists that roam the site, looking for popular pages that contain un-PC keywords, and will block off any user sounding vaguely conservative if he or she becomes too popular. His biased censorship, which would make the Chinese government proud, is starting to attract attention.

Facebook is actively fanning the fires of liberal hysteria over normal — if disputable — business practices and is trying to convert it into a push for regulations.

Zuckerberg is now advocating regulation mandating similar censorship and content vetting for all social media. This is a clever triple play. It would raise costs, and thus the barrier to entry, for all potential social network rivals, thereby keeping these pesky competitors at bay. It would absolve him from his anti-conservative witch hunt, since he would merely be implementing a regulation. And it would deprive banned users of a tribune where they can publish their horrid un-PC diatribes.

The latter implies that all censorship would systematically be biased toward statism. Wouldn't some regulated social media company limit its censorship? It's unlikely. Think about the type of person who would want to be hired as a "content verification specialist." Would this censor job attract the average Joe? Or the average libertarian? Or would it be a magnet for vengeful social justice warriors looking for an outlet for their resentment?

Facebook is actively fanning the fires of liberal hysteria over normal — if disputable — business practices and is trying to convert it into a push for regulations. It's the old tale of Br’er Rabbit (a charming tale probably censored by Facebook for its “racist” depiction of a dark-colored figure): "Please don't throw me into the briar patch." It turns out that Br’er Zuckerberg was born and bred in the briar patch of governmental regulations and would simply love for his clumsy critics to throw him into the thickest of it.




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Butterfly Police

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The iconic orange- and black-winged monarch butterfly, one of North America’s insect wonders, is on the path to extinction. Its population has collapsed by 90% since the 1990s.

Each fall, the butterflies travel up to 3,000 miles from their breeding grounds in the US and Canada to their winter sanctuaries in the oyamel fir forests of central Mexico. In late winter, they mate, and begin the return trip to the US and Canada, where they lay their eggs on milkweed plants, and die. The eggs hatch into caterpillars, who feed exclusively on these host plants, until they fly back to Mexico.

Freezing temperatures in March! In central Mexico! Blamed on global warming!

The reported population decline is based on annual estimates of the number of butterflies overwintering in Mexico. That number is, in turn, based on the number of acres occupied by the monarchs. In 2016, ten acres were occupied, compared with 44 acres 20 years ago. The cause of the decline has been attributed to habitat shrinkage, both in Mexico (trees, because of illegal logging) and in the US (milkweed acreage, because of urban sprawl and agriculture). The problem, of course, is anthropogenic: global warming and pesticide use. So says the Center for Biological Diversity, and the solution, of course, is “immediate action to rein in pesticide use and curb global climate change.”

And, of course, there is no real-world connection to either. Regarding devastation of the monarch’s Mexican habitat, environmentalist Homero Aridjis wrote, in 2016, "The Mexican government should be taking measures to mitigate the probable effects of climate change on the [monarch butterfly] reserve.” The operative word is “probable.” In March of that year, Mexico experienced the destruction of 133 acres of forest, in a storm that froze or killed an estimated 6.2 million monarch butterflies. Said monarch expert Lincoln Brower, "Never had we observed such a combination of high winds, rain and freezing temperatures.” According to Weather.com, “this storm was unexpectedly intense, fueled by shifting temperatures due to climate change.” Freezing temperatures in March! In central Mexico! Blamed on global warming!

As to the habitat effects of illegal logging, most of the land occupied by overwintering butterflies is owned by indigenous Mexicans, who must cut the forest to survive. To stave off such habitat devastation, conservationists have tried to convince impoverished landowners that “the forest is worth more to them in terms of tourism when left standing instead of being cut down.” The thinking apparently is that if the conservation pitch is successful, then future tourists will joyously snap memorable pictures of a soaring monarch migration, as it descends onto oyamel fir forests — whose then-dense canopy will hide the waning, forgotten indigenous farm and mountain communities, as they descend into deeper poverty.

No announcements have been made as to how the butterfly police will handle the environmental crimes of bark beetles.

But in case destitute locals cannot be persuaded to give up their supplemental logging incomes, “Mexico's government announced it would create a special national police squad to patrol nature reserves and fight environmental crimes.” No announcements have been made as to how the butterfly police will handle the environmental crimes of bark beetles, whose infestations of the monarch sanctuary have no doubt destroyed at least as many trees as has illegal logging.

Not to be outdone by Mexico, the US has concocted measures of equal inanity. For example, the Obama administration proposed a “fly-way” program in which milkweed refuges for the butterflies would be created along highways that follow monarch migration routes. “According to the national strategy plan released by the White House, the fly-way is intended to increase the population to 225 million butterflies by 2020.” Another plan calls for placing the monarch on the Endangered Species List. “Our government must do what the law and science demands, and protect monarchs under the Endangered Species Act, before it’s too late,” scowled George Kimbrell, legal director at the Center for Food Safety. As a resident of Alabama, I pledge that as soon as the insect appears on the list, never to stomp on a monarch that lands in my yard, and to encourage my fellow Alabamians to demonstrate similar restraint. Good God, it’s our state insect.

"Monarch Watch" counted milkweed instead of monarchs?

Unfortunately, what science demands is evidence. And the scientific evidence does not support the climate change or pesticide propaganda. According to an exhaustive study of World Wildlife Fund and citizen scientist butterfly migration data, it is most likely that neither milkweed nor herbicides limit monarch population. “Monarch numbers begin declining at the end of the summer, when the butterflies begin their long migration to Mexico, and the numbers continue to decline as they travel. During this southern migration, adult monarchs do not feed on milkweed,” wrote lead author Anurag Agrawal. “By the time they get to Mexico their numbers are plummeting, but at the end of the summer when they start their migration, their numbers are not down . . . Herbicides are not likely to be the problem, and genetically modified crops that are herbicide resistant are not likely to be the problem for the monarch.”

In their incurious haste to blame the plight of monarchs on the climate change and pesticide boogeymen that they so vividly, and obsessively, imagine, crack US scientists relied on the overwintering counts estimated by crack Mexican scientists. They didn’t think to estimate the number of butterflies that depart the US in the fall. They counted the milkweed loss (up to 6,000 acres of potential habitat a day, because of US land development, says Monarch Watch), but not the monarchs. Monarch Watch counted milkweed instead of monarchs?

Had that storm not occurred, the headline story might have been the miraculous resurgence of our cherished monarchs.

Who knows what is happening to the monarch butterfly? Most of its population decline — as any non-environmentalist would guess — seems to be occurring during its arduous 3,000-mile journey to Mexico. Some of the decline in Mexico may be caused by illegal logging, and some by the bark beetle. But even this possibility is suspect. It’s extremely difficult to believe that tenacious monarchs could not find 44 acres of sufficiently dense and healthy fir trees, unassaulted by loggers and bark beetles, somewhere in their 138,379-acre biosphere reserve. And none is caused by the shrinkage of milkweed acreage in the US.

The monarch population had been rebounding in the few years prior to the March 2016 storm. Had that storm not occurred, the headline story might have been the miraculous resurgence of our cherished monarchs. Instead, the storm was used to blame climate change and pesticides for their demise. One can only hope that this silly, condescending, ideological attribution — that millions of monarchs were frozen to death, in the spring of the year, in central Mexico, by global warming — causes a similar decline in the population of braying environmentalists, and the rapid extinction of moronic, politically motivated scientists who come up with ideas such as butterfly highways and butterfly police.




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Why I Won’t Be Watching the Oscars This Year

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I used to love the glitz of Oscar night. I saw all the movies, reviewed them for Liberty, rooted for my favorites, and predicted the winners. I looked forward to Billy Crystal’s opening monologue, the mashup of Best Picture nominees, the performances of the nominees for Best Songs, Barbara Walters' pre-show interviews, the schmaltzy in memoriam list, and even the acceptance speeches. My friends gave fancy black-tie viewing parties and held contests to see who would correctly forecast the most winners. I wouldn’t miss Oscar night.

But I’m not watching the Oscars this year. I’m writing this before the ceremonies, so you can compare what I say with what actually happened; but I’m not changing my mind. It’s not that I’m boycotting the ceremony; frankly, it isn’t important enough to boycott. I just don’t care anymore. The awards shows have made themselves obnoxiously political and tediously irrelevant. Last year it was “Not my President.” At the Golden Globes it was black dresses and #MeToo. Now it’s “Boycott the NRA.” Do we really need Meryl Streep lecturing us about gun control this week? How do they even find time to make movies with all the activism they’re involved in?

It’s not that I’m boycotting the ceremony; frankly, it isn’t important enough to boycott.

For some actors, the answer is: they don’t. Four-time Oscar nominee and one-time winner Jennifer Lawrence recently announced that she’s taking a year off from making movies to teach kids about the importance of “getting big money out of government.” (Not sure if she means “from government” or “away from government,” but there you have it. She’s involved.) The 27-year-old middle-school dropout explained to Stephen Colbert, “When Trump got elected, my head spun off. And I read all these books and I have really learned myself good about our government.” (Yes, that’s how she said it. She learned herself good.) She went on to admit that she didn’t know how to answer any of the students’ questions during her first high school visit. “They were so smart!” she said incredulously. Nevertheless, she will spend the next year visiting schools to teach children about corruption in politics because, you know, she plays a spy in Red Sparrow.

And then there’s the Harvey Weinstein scandal, with everyone in the entertainment field expressing outrage as though they had been learning about his sexual aggressions and manipulations for the first time. I have to admit I miss Harvey a little bit: how can we get excited about the Oscars or even know which movies are “The Best Film of the Year!” without Weinstein out there promoting his entries with full-page ads in all the papers for the past two months? The stardust is gone. I just don’t know what to do or what to think without his help.

Nevertheless, Lawrence will spend the next year visiting schools to teach children about corruption in politics because, you know, she plays a spy in Red Sparrow.

Oscar is responding to the scandal by protecting its ingénues with items in the famous swag bags given to each attendee. In a press release the security systems company Sabre said that it planned to “help others by inspiring self-empowerment,” and therefore would be handing out items including a keychain pepper spray, gel pepper spray, and personal body alarms, as well as a testing kit that determines whether a drink has been drugged.

The irony of all this “pepper spray” is that it wouldn’t have done a bit of good in the Weinstein scandal, since all these women had to do to protect themselves was to get up and walk out the door. Or how about not going through the door in the first place? Who “takes a meeting” in a hotel room at 2 a.m.? On the other hand, being able to tell whether your drink was spiked with roofies is probably a good tool to have when you’re partying with Hollywood bigwigs. So thank you, Sabre, for inspiring our ingénues with empowerment. And for handing them a weapon.

Kimmel argues that entertainers have an obligation to use their platform for politics. I don’t find that particularly entertaining. Or pleasant.

In an interview with Good Morning America, Oscar host Jimmy Kimmel (who loaded last year’s monologue with digs at the newly elected President Trump) said he wants to be kinder this year. “This show is not about reliving people’s sexual assaults,” he said. “It’s an awards show for people who have been dreaming about maybe winning an Oscar for their whole lives. And the last thing I want to do is ruin that for someone who is nominated for, you know, best leading actress or best supporting or best director or cinematographer or whatever, by making it unpleasant.”

Unless you happen to be a nominee whose politics don’t mix with Kimmel’s. Then he’ll be as unpleasant as he likes. In that same interview he hinted that he will be delving into politics and voicing his opposition to President Trump, arguing that entertainers have an obligation to use their platform for politics. I don’t find that particularly entertaining. Or pleasant.

And what about the movies the Academy has chosen lately as Best Picture? Yes, there are some good nominees this year. I like the new policy of nominating up to 10 films for Best Picture. It allows unexpected little gems such as last year’s Mad Max: Fury Road and this year’s Get Out to have a moment of glory. My favorites this year are The Shape of Water, Dunkirk, Get Out, and Darkest Hour. Each is artistically stunning and each has an engaging storyline with strong character development. But they won’t win.

There ought to be some connection between the films people like and the films that are considered best picture.

And that’s why the Oscars have become irrelevant. The audience-pleasers don’t have a chance any more. In the past ten years, only one of the Best Picture winners (Argo) has earned more than half a million dollars on opening weekend, and most have earned under $300 thousand. Only three of them have broken through the $100 million barrier in lifetime worldwide box office receipts. I mean come on — The Hurt Locker ($50 million) beating out Inglourious Basterds ($300 million) and Avatar ($2 billion) in 2009? Even the animated film Up ($780 million — also nominated in 2009) would have been a better choice than The Hurt Locker with the viewing audience that year. I’m not suggesting that box office should determine the award, but there ought to be some connection between the films people like and the films that are considered best picture.

In short, middle America doesn’t have a dog in the race any more. The Academy insists on awarding the coveted statue to “important” films rather than the best film of the year, and most movie goers simply don’t care enough to sit through three-plus hours of self-adulation and snide remarks about their president to cheer for a film they haven’t seen. Neither do I. Sure, I’ll check out the results on Monday morning, and I might catch some of the speeches on YouTube if I learn that something outrageous has happened — like last year’s erroneous announcement that La La Land won instead of Moonlight, while the man whose sole purpose is to stand in the wings with the list of winners and quickly step in to make the correction if someone ever makes such a mistake was distracted backstage taking a selfie with the beautiful Emma Stone, who had just won the Oscar for Best Actress. Now that was worth watching. Almost.




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OPEC Death Watch

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A number of recent articles suggest that OPEC — that kleptocratic cartel that has artificially jacked up oil prices for so many decades — is in its death throes.

The cause is something upon which I have long commented in these pages: the roaring renaissance of the American oil and natural gas industry, a renaissance produced by entrepreneurial capitalism — as opposed to interventionist statism. While the Department of Energy funded wind and solar power, along with biomass and ethanol production, all of which together have accounted for only a tiny sliver of American energy production, and that only with massive subsidies and draconian mandates — private enterprise backed the winners: oil and natural gas.

But the recent dramatic increase in production and exportation was occasioned by Speaker Paul Ryan’s success in enacting into law the right of American energy companies to export those resources. This allows frackers (and ordinary drillers) to increase production, because they now have an unlimited world market within which to sell their products.

There's a roaring renaissance in the American oil and natural gas industry, a renaissance produced by entrepreneurial capitalism — as opposed to interventionist statism.

And this is already happening, as several noteworthy articles report. One is a Bloomberg report that of all countries, no less than the United Arab Emirates (UAE) — the fourth largest oil exporter in OPEC — is buying oil from shale wells in Texas. It turns out that the Texas crude is much “sweeter” (lighter and of superior quality) and more useful to the UAE’s refining than the local brand. The 700,000 barrels of oil that it is buying are their first purchase from us.

Bloomberg notes that while American exports to the UAE are not projected to continue, the explosion of American oil exports will. Shipments from America rose from a mere 100,000 barrels per day (BPD) five years ago to 1.53 million BPD in November of last year.

Besides increasing American exports of oil, the fracking revolution has reduced non-American imports to below 3 million BPD, the lowest level since data were first gathered 45 years ago. Our current net imports are only one-fourth of what they were in 2006, and we are likely to become a net exporter in about a decade — sooner, if ANWR is finally tapped, and new offshore areas are opened up for drilling.

The 700,000 barrels of oil that the UAE is buying are their first purchase from the US.

A second story reports the rapid growth in exports of domestically produced natural gas. It reveals that China has signed a long-term contract with Cheniere Energy — a major exporter of liquefied natural gas (LNG) — under which Cheniere will ship LNG from the Gulf Coast to China. Under this contract, Cheniere will provide 1.2 million tons of LNG annually to China, starting in five years, and lasting for 20 years after that.

And there is a third story, which notes that besides a rapid rise in American LNG shipments to China, we are seeing an explosion of exports of American crude oil shipments to that country. These exports have mushroomed from zero, before two years ago, to 400,000 barrels per day during the past two months. And again, if we bust open ANWR and the coastal waters of Alaska, such exports will increase even more quickly.

One nice side effect of this is that the more oil China buys from us, the lower our balance-of-trade deficit is with China. Two months ago our trade deficit with China was $25.55 billion. Last month it dropped to $21.895 billion.

Our current net imports are only one-fourth of what they were in 2006, and we are likely to become a net exporter in about a decade.

For the foreseeable future, of course, China will continue to buy most of its oil from Russia and the OPEC countries. But our share of the Chinese market will grow, for two reasons. First, at $60 per barrel, American crude is more than $4 cheaper than the benchmark (Brent) price. Second, while there are certain infrastructure bottlenecks that have to be overcome, they are being addressed. For example, while we don’t yet have ports capable of handling the biggest oil tankers (“Very Large Crude Carriers”), we have already started expanding one of the largest ports on the Louisiana coast.

All of this has added to the stress on OPEC that may result in its collapse as a cartel: the members of the cartel may go their own ways. The recent uptick in oil prices above the $60 per barrel range has helped OPEC find some relief. The recovery of the old price from its lows in the $40–50 range has two causes.

One is the meltdown of socialism in Venezuela, which has cut its oil production dramatically. Venezuela, a founding member of OPEC, is allocated by the Cartel to produce 1.97 million BPD. But the near civil war in Venezuela has dropped actual production to only 1.64 Million BPD. In fact, Venezuela’s production dropped by a whopping 30% last year alone. This is a steeper decline than that experienced by Russia when the Soviet Union broke up, and that experienced by Iraq following the 2003 invasion!

As noted by the Wall Street Journal article that I am referencing, the drop in Venezuelan petroleum output will likely continue, if not accelerate, because the nation is trapped in a vicious socialized spiral. As it exports less, it receives less foreign currency, which cuts its ability to buy food and other necessities that its own dysfunctional economy cannot produce, which in turn increases its hyperinflation and thus the political and economic failure. Moreover, Venezuela’s declining shipments of crude are deducted to paying creditors (such as Russia) and are in constant danger of being seized by creditors.

All of this has added to the stress on OPEC that may result in its collapse as a cartel: the members of the cartel may go their own ways.

In short, the ill winds that have so badly buffeted the hapless Venezuelan people have blown great good to the rest of OPEC. I suspect this is the real reason why Russia — no longer itself socialist — so strongly supports the Venezuelan socialist regime: it keeps a formidable competitor on the ground. The Russians want nothing so much as fair competition — the history of their Olympic teams shows that!

Speaking of Russia, the second major reason that OPEC has been able to keep the price of oil as high as it has recently (i.e., in the $60–70 per barrel range) is that so far Russia has stuck to its agreement with OPEC to hold down production. In early 2017, OPEC and Russia — which, while not a member of OPEC, is certainly an ally of it — agreed to cut back Russia’s production. This agreement has held up for thirteen months, now, and the Russians have signaled that they are inclined to keep to the bargain through the rest of this year and even into the first half of next year. However, the Russian oil oligarchs are expressing doubts about the deal — since Russia needs to maximize its income in order to arm itself maximally.

Vadim Yakovlev, deputy CEO of Gazprom Neft, the giant Russian oil company, has said that the company views the OPEC agreement as only temporary, and it irks the company to be forced to hold back production. Gazprom’s CEO Alexander Dyukov has said, “Following the OPEC agreement, instead of growing at eight to nine percent, we [Gazprom] have increased by just 4.5 to five percent. Which is, without a doubt, a negative factor for us.”

At this point, American production is a regulator of world prices: whenever the price rises much above $60, the industry jacks up production, and the result brings the price right back down.

It is clear that OPEC’s day of rule is coming to an end. America — already the greatest producer of oil and natural gas combined — is on track to become the world’s biggest oil producer this year. Energy research firm Rystad Energy estimates the US production will rise by 10%, hitting 11 million BPD. America hasn’t been the global leader since — 1975!

The report from which I have drawn that last piece of information notes that in 2015 the Saudis drove oil prices down to $26 a barrel. This lowered American production by 11%. But the American oil industry, not destroyed, became stronger — and more efficient, able to turn a profit with prices as low as $30 a barrel. While some experts are not so sanguine about the US becoming number one, it is clear that our production will continue to grow. At this point, American production is a regulator of world prices: whenever the price rises much above $60, the industry jacks up production, and the result brings the price right back down. A recent article spells this out — oil prices have been driven down by American production’s rise to a new high of 10.25 million BPD.

In sum, the days of OPEC — an evil cartel of evil states, from socialist Venezuela to religious-fascist Iran to duplicitous Saudi Arabia to revanchist neofascist Russia — are numbered. The free market will at last prevail.




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Run for the (Sea)Wall

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Every Memorial Day for the past 30 years a now-grizzled convoy of Viet Nam vets astride choppers swarms the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, DC. Groups of two, ten, twenty and more, hailing from every corner of the continent, converge at minor and major crossroads into a host of hundreds of thousands. This grassroots commemoration is known as the Run for the Wall. It was started in 1989 by two vets on Harleys. By last count the run numbers 350,000.

At the nation’s capital, Army, Navy, Marines, and Air Force; enlistees and draftees; non-coms and warriors; enlisted men and officers, relatives and sympathizers; WWII, Korea, Vietnam, Granada, Afghanistan, Iraq, and, yes, Bay of Pigs vets (everyone is welcome) — all long in the tooth, mostly hirsute, amply girthed and outfitted in Harley Davidson garb — cry like spurned orphans as their fingers graze the black granite of remembrance searching for the names of long lost comrades. The tears are contagious. Onlookers mist up or avert their gaze in respect and abide the circumstance.

The men harbored much resentment and bad blood: against Castro for their inhumane treatment; against Kennedy for condemning the operation to defeat.

This past Christmas Eve, an entirely different group of vets commemorated its 55th anniversary of freedom. On Christmas Eve, 1962, the last of the 1,113 Bay of Pigs POWs of Brigade 2506 were released after nearly two years of incarceration in Fidel Castro’s prisons. My cousins Carlos “Cachorro” León Acosta and Armando “Armandito” Lastra Faget, both 19, were the first to taste liberty that day. For Carlos, that was the night he was born again.

The Brigade had signed up to liberate Cuba from Castro’s communist fist. For a variety of reasons, and in spite of inflicting nearly 5,000 casualties on the Castro troops and suffering only 67 combat deaths, the Brigade was unable to achieve its goal.

Contrary to the narrative Fidel Castro has popularized — that the Bay of Pigs operation was a US CIA invasion manned by mercenaries — the true nature of that debacle has seldom been put into words. This is mainly because the freed prisoners were sworn to press silence, to avoid offending either the Castro or the Kennedy government and imperiling nascent and fragile agreements between the two countries. The men harbored much resentment and bad blood: against Castro for their inhumane treatment; against Kennedy for condemning the operation to defeat.

Fidel knew this was a Cuban vs. Cuban affair, and that if his forces fired on the US, the behemoth would retaliate and taps would sound on his revolution.

In contrast to Castro’s narrative, the true version is that the Bay of Pigs invasion was part of a civil war in which one side was supplied with arms, money, and training by the USSR, East Germany, and Czechoslovakia, while the other side was supplied with the same kit by the US, Guatemala, and Nicaragua. If anyone doubts this version, let him examine the event’s rules of engagement, to which both sides scrupulously adhered: US forces never fired a shot at Castro’s combatants, and Castro’s forces never attacked offshore US support ships. Fidel knew this was a Cuban vs. Cuban affair, and that if his forces fired on the US, the behemoth would retaliate and taps would sound on his revolution.

The Bay of Pigs was the second climax in a Cuban civil war that began on March 10, 1952 when Fulgencio Batista wrested control of Cuba in a coup. Immediately, a variety of disparate groups declared resistance to the new regime, Fidel Castro’s 26th of July Movement being only one of many. The first climax in these civil wars was Castro’s triumph over Batista on December 31, 1958.

Within four days of Castro’s victory, a nascent resistance — reading the writing on the wall and unrelated to the Batista regime — declared against Castro. The Bay of Pigs invasion two and a half years later was the second climax in the ongoing civil war.

Whenever the next climax occurs and whatever it brings, it will be peaceful.

The Bay of Pigs veterans are dwindling in numbers, many having added their eternal energy toward Cuba’s liberation. Only 550 are left. My cousin Armandito died in 2010. The latest to pass away was Maximo “Ñato” Cruz just a short while ago, on November 26. Cruz was an exceptional hero, the leader of F Company, 2nd Battalion, who distinguished himself in combat during the Battle of the Rotonda to such a degree that he received the only battlefield promotion during the fight.

Whenever the next climax occurs and whatever it brings, it will be peaceful. All of the exile and resident anti-Castro groups have renounced violence in achieving their aim of a free and democratic Cuba.

To commemorate the 55th anniversary of the Bay of Pigs veterans’ release, a small group of vets and vets’ relatives — in sincere flattery and imitation of the Run for the Wall ride — participated in a real (pedal) bike ride from the Bay of Pigs Memorial in Little Havana to Key West — as close to Cuba as possible. We called this our Run for the (Sea)Wall. Here’s my account of the journey.

Forget Little Havana and Calle Ocho — they’re full of gringo and European tourists. All of south Florida has become Cubanized. Ubiquitous are Cuban coffee (espresso brewed with sugar), Cuban sandwiches (roast pork, ham, Swiss cheese, and pickles stacked between sliced French bread and ironed in a plancha, a waffle press-like flat grill), and black beans (as a standard side in nearly all restaurants). We heard Spanish more often than English, though everyone, except for the very recent arrivals (mostly Venezuelans), speaks both languages and uses them interchangeably. Unlike immigrant enclaves elsewhere, south Florida is no “enclave” of struggling refugees lacking in skills, knowledge, or financial nous and isolated from its native residents. On the contrary, the mélange is dynamic, inspiring, and surprisingly free of cross-cultural frictions.

My wife Tina and I left Boca Raton on fully loaded bikes in a drizzly dawn, aiming first for Miami. We’d been staying with my Venezuelan cousin, Marta, who’d finally gotten her green card two years ago. Our next destination was Key Biscayne, 72 miles away, where another cousin, MariCris — a Cuban this time — would put us up at her corporate condo.

Forget Little Havana and Calle Ocho — they’re full of gringo and European tourists. All of south Florida has become Cubanized.

We reached Key Biscayne in one day, and on the next met with the president of the Bay of Pigs Veterans Association, Humberto “Chino” Argüelles, and a handful of veterans and family members at the Casa, the museum and headquarters of Brigade 2506. I was presented with a Brigade 2506 emblem and flag. One 82-year-old vet, Emilio “Ernesto Guerra” Martinez Venegas, had not been a member of the invasion force. Instead, he’d been a key participant in the subsequent infiltration programs, had been captured, and had spent 15 years in Castro’s prisons.

After touring the Casa and meeting with some of the veterans, we proceeded to Calle Ocho’s Bay of Pigs Monument, where — over the noise of traffic and tourist passersby — I explained the purpose of our ride: “Today we don’t mourn [the fighters’] defeat; we celebrate their freedom.” Our ride was "in remembrance of the patriots who gave their life, fortunes, and honor for Cuba’s liberty. Today we are all Cubans. Viva Cuba Libre!”

Launch of the ride. L to R: Carlos "Cachorro" León; the author; Humberto "el Chino" Arguelles. At the eternal flame, Bay of Pigs Memorial, Little Havana, Miami.Launch of the ride. L to R: Carlos "Cachorro" León; the author; Humberto "el Chino" Arguelles. At the eternal flame, Bay of Pigs Memorial, Little Havana, Miami.

One passing Danish tourist, captivated by the event, offered to photograph our entire group in front of the monument. Carlos, a veteran paratrooper of the Bay of Pigs (and the cousin earlier mentioned) handed over his camera. Afterward, the Dane asked Carlos if he’d fought “on the Cuban side.” The query was symptomatic of how pervasively the Castro narrative has permeated the public. Carlos, momentarily baffled yet no stranger to such ignorance, just answered “Yes.”

He then offered to take his family members to lunch. I suggested Versailles, the iconic Cuban exile restaurant where the movers and shakers of the Cuban community had met for years to impress one another, argue politics, and concoct financial and insurrectional plans. He gave me the same look he’d given the Danish tourist, saying, “Versailles’ food is no longer what it used to be; Cubans no longer go there; it’s a tourist magnet with long lines. I know a better place.”

He led us to a Spanish restaurant full of old Cubans — all of whom he knew — taking advantage of the $12.95 set lunch, and introduced Tina and me to all of them. He flirted with the waitress — he was a regular — and she reparteed back. After she took our order, Carlos leaned over and said, “She’s Russian.” The fortyish blonde was the daughter of minor Russian functionaries once assigned to Cuba, where she’d grown up and learned Spanish.

The query was symptomatic of how pervasively the Castro narrative has permeated the public.

After a delicious meal of caldo gallego, merluza a la plancha and flan, we went to Books&Books in Coral Gables. It’s the flagship of south Florida’s best book store, and a microcosm of south Florida’s intellectual milieu. Books&Books is old fashioned: huge, rambling, encyclopedic — with books arranged thematically, irrespective of language, on the same dark oak shelves — liberal with easy chairs for tome dipping, and hosting a sophisticated coffee and snack bar. The staff is multilingual, knowledgeable, and very helpful. Apparently, the many customers in the aisles were unaware of the “death of the independent book store.” (And yes, they carried my book, Closing the Circle: A Memoir of Cuba, Exile, the Bay of Pigs and a Trans-Island Bike Journey. Whew!)

The next day we saddled up early and headed for the Florida Keys, along Miami’s M-path, a dedicated bike trail under the city’s elevated tramway. Carlos met us partway on his bike for a photo op along a defile of Royal Palms, the Cuban national tree. Because of injuries acquired at the butt end of a rifle from a sadistic guard in Castro’s Modelo Prison, Carlos has to lay down his bike, step into its triangular frame, lift it up, and step out of the frame to straddle the bike in order to mount it. Afterward we joined him for breakfast at the Rinconcito Cubano, an unassuming breakfast and lunch joint where, again, he knew all the patrons and waitresses and introduced us to them all.

Armandito had been an outsized character at the Battle of the Rotonda in the Bay of Pigs operation, muscling a .30 caliber tripod machine gun continuously during the 48-hour siege of Playa Larga.

By lunchtime we reached Homestead, home of the Air Force base that welcomed the freed Bay of Pigs prisoners back on that Christmas Eve in 1962. Alina Lastra, sister of my late cousin Armandito Lastra, met us along the dedicated, tarmacked bike path. Armandito had been an outsized character at the Battle of the Rotonda in the Bay of Pigs operation, muscling a .30 caliber tripod machine gun continuously during the 48-hour siege of Playa Larga. Again, we took pictures — this time with the Brigade 2506 flag and a rendition of the MAGA hat with “America” replaced by “Cuba.”

But now we faced the Everglades’ aptly named Overseas Highway, a single traffic lane each way, with a divider, over 20 miles long, connecting the tip of Florida to Key Largo over swampland and sea. But that is merely the first key in an improbable island chain that stretches 113 miles to Key West (Cayo Hueso). Luckily, the shoulder was six feet wide — wide enough to shield us from the impatient, albeit 55 MPH controlled, continuous traffic. Boring and stressful!

Key West was first connected to the road grid in 1928, with a couple of intermittent ferries. All the bridges along the way, including the famous seven-mile bridge, were completed and open to traffic in 1938, when FDR toured the finished highway. We did not enjoy the amenities of his tour, but after a 64-mile day, we were relieved to find a motel on Key Largo and indulge in a pricey blackened Yellowtail dinner.

An iguana, on the way. It would be hard to leave him out.

An iguana, on the way. It would be hard to leave him out.

Of course, winter’s cold seldom finds the Florida Keys. New Year’s Eve welcomed us with 70 degree temperatures under bright sunshine in the morning. Hurricane Irma debris lined Highway 1 and sometimes blocked the adjacent bike path, a dedicated trail that often included its own connecting bridges separate from the vehicular bridges. Fishermen, some with tents and BBQs, lined these long bike and pedestrian spans. At times we had to dodge colorful iguanas, which otherwise mostly sunbathe on abandoned abutments and supporting berms, scurrying away when troubled.

Fifty-two miles to Marathon Key. Our tiredness and the isolation of our motel shielded us from the New Year's celebrations — raucous in a population given to no-shirts, no-shoes, and lots of recreational boozing.

* * *

Over the years Key Largo and Marathon Key have played a little-publicized but outsized role in US-Cuba relations. After the serial imposition of progressively stricter US embargos on the island, the Castro nomenclatura found itself in want of both luxuries and specialty technical apparatus. Even when these items could be obtained through convoluted schemes involving passthrough countries or ingenious smuggling, little foreign exchange was available to pay for them. So Fidel — or someone close to him who provided plausible deniability to the Comandante en Jefe — came up with a two-part idea implemented by the De la Guardia twins, Tony and Patricio, heroes of the Angola war, with popular (second only to Fidel) General Arnaldo “Negro” Ochoa, also from the Angola (and Somalia) war playing a supporting role.

Some funds for the operation were generated by charging Colombian drug runners a safe passage fee when traversing Cuban territorial waters. These funds were laundered by Fidel’s criminal asylee, Robert Vesco, the fugitive financier. Another part of the scheme involved stealing luxury yachts from Florida marinas. Since these were heavily insured and were owned, after all, by rich capitalists, the insurance companies reimbursed the owners promptly, and little fuss ensued. As Nobel-nominated author Norberto Fuentes, best friend with Ochoa and Tony De la Guardia, relates in his book, Dulces Guerreros Cubanos, the yachts were then employed in the “Caribbean Express,” smuggling Marlboros, specialty arms, and technology obtained through the services of shady Florida arbitragers and go-betweens. The delivery, loading, payment, and shipping took place on Key Largo and Marathon Key. Everyone involved skimmed and squirreled away thousands of dollars (the principals, hundreds of thousands of dollars) — insurance policies, commissions and brokerage fees being frowned upon in socialist Cuba.

Since these stolen yachts were heavily insured and were owned, after all, by rich capitalists, the insurance companies reimbursed the owners promptly, and little fuss ensued.

In 1989, for reasons that I can’t — yet — quite understand, Ochoa, the De la Guardia twins, and author Fuentes, all intimates of the Castros, were purged in a series of show trials reminiscent of Stalin’s in the 1930s. The charges had to do with drugs; the ostensible reason was the Castros’ desire to improve their image before international opinion. But there were other, murkier reasons, all too complex to elaborate here.

Ochoa and Antonio De la Guardia went to the firing squad. When Raúl Castro announced the verdict to Cuba’s rubberstamp constituent assembly, he was drunk and tearful and wore a bullet-proof vest; Arnaldo Ochoa was one of his best friends. Norberto Fuentes was saved through the special pleading of Fidel’s friend, Nobel laureate Gabriel Garcia Marquez, the Colombian writer. Fuentes now lives in Miami surrounded by his Castro-era memorabilia, in the same building as my cousin Carlos’ son. Fuentes and Carlos were schoolmates before the Revolution.

And the stolen luxury yachts? These became part of the fleet that takes rich tourists out on exclusive fishing excursions around Cuba.

* * *

The run down to Key West, at 48 miles, was our shortest — and most expensive, with a basic Best Western room costing over $300, not untypical of Key West prices. Carlos tells a story of impetuously driving down to Key West 30 years ago on New Year’s Eve for his honeymoon. At the first likely lodging he encountered, he inquired about a room. The attendant asked if he had a reservation.

“No,” answered the newlyweds. The attendant immediately began laughing. Carlos avers that, to this day, the man is still laughing. He adds that every subsequent motel they tried — even as they then began driving back to Miami — was fully booked. Nevertheless, we had our Best Western room and at 5 p.m. headed for El Siboney, a popular Cuban restaurant only two blocks away, hoping to avoid the crowds that are given to much later, Latin eating habits. Still, Tina and I — by now our small group had been reduced to just the two of us, for a variety of reasons, most having to do with age, health and the holidays — had to wait in line.

End of the ride. Author and his wife unfurling the Brigade 2506 flag, Key West.End of the ride. Author and his wife unfurling the Brigade 2506 flag, Key West.

Then, on January 2, at dawn, we packed up and headed the three blocks to the monument that marks the southernmost point of the US and declares in bold print, “90 Miles to Cuba.” It was a blustery day with tourists already posing before the giant faux buoy for pictures. We waited our turn. Then we posed our bikes before the monument, unfurled the Brigade 2506 flag, and recited José Martí’s La Rosa Blanca:

Cultivo una rosa blanca                            I cultivate a white rose
en junio como en enero                              in June as in January
para el amigo sincero                                 for the sincere friend
que me da su mano franca.                        that proffers his open hand.
Pero para el cruel que me arranca             But for the knave that rips out
el corazón con que vivo,                             the heart that gives me life,
cardo ni ortiga cultivo,                              I cultivate neither thistle nor nettle,
cultivo la rosa blanca.                               I cultivate a white rose.

I then pivoted towards Cuba, saluted the Castros with a single finger, folded our flag, and headed back to Boca.

* * *

After enduring nearly two years in Castro’s prisons, 240 out of approximately 1,400 Bay of Pigs veterans enlisted in the US military. Most fought in Vietnam. Both operations ended in defeat. Both sets of vets were widely spurned upon their return to the United States. But that attitude is finally changing.




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