By Scott Krane

Editor’s note: Scott Krane is a freelance writer based in Israel where he is a post-graduate student at Bar Ilan University in Ramat Gan, Israel. He is a freelance blogger and researcher.

Some of the most disputed and loathed concepts are the most meaningful to humanity. Because of their lofty essence they are concepts that constantly necessitate explanation. Take for instance, Zionism and Poetry.

Jewish causes have long necessitated defense. In the 14th century, in Barcelona, the Sephardic Rabbi Nahmanides had to defend Judaism from Papal Catholicism in the famed Disputation. Theordor Herzl’s manifesto, The Jewish State, is about the need for a state where Jews from East Europe could defend themselves against violence and persecution.

The old Zionist militia in Palestine was called the Hagana – Hebrew for defense; and consider the Israeli Defense Forces. In his 16th century essay, Defense of Poesy, the English poet, Sir Philip Sidney writes, “Among the Romans a poet was called vates, which is as much a diviner, foreseer, or prophet, as by his conjoined words vaticinium and vaticinari is manifest.” He continues, “And may not I presume a little further, to show the reasonableness of this word vates, and say the holy David’s Psalms are a divine poem?” To defend poetry from Puritans, Sidney had to illuminate what he saw in them as divine.

I am not only struck by parallels between this classic defense of the art-form and the prophetic artist and contemporary Zionism – including my gallant comrades who choose to live in Judea and Samaria beyond the 1947 UN partitioned borders – but I also feel that what Aristotle, Sir Philip Sidney and Percy Bysshe Shelley saw as value in poetry, I see as value in Zionism. It can be expected that Poetic Genius will come under attack by Puritan Englishmen or Socratic Athenians, much the way a Hebrew country on the ancient Jewish homeland will come under attack by those who are envious. Much the way Michal glared at King David in jealousy when he danced with Torah in Jerusalem.

Sidney writes, “There is no art delivered to mankind that hath not the works of nature for his principal object, without which they could not consist, and on which they so depend, as they become actors and players, as it were, of what nature will set forth.” And in drawing parallels between Poetry and contemporary society, the same may be true, as Sidney expresses here, as in the case of all known cultures, religions and nations. “Only the poet” however, continues Sidney, “disdaining to be tied to any such subjection, lifted up with vigor of his own invention, doth grow in effect another nature, in making things either better than nature bringeth forth, or, quite anew, forms such as never were…”

This is not to say a modernized Hebrew country in Palestine isn’t a return to the Jewish homeland, or it is in some way fake or contrived. It is however, like Poetry, misunderstood; and alas, difficult to explain. Zionists may at least understand the argument of some who are wary of a new state for the Jews that has been at war since its founding. “It is surrounded by enemies,” they say, “it will never work.” They blame the settlers, those who embody the essence of the Zionist movement.

One famous contemporary writer, an American Jew, recently wrote in his New York Times column, “continuing to build settlements in the West Bank, and even housing in disputed East Jerusalem, is sheer madness.” However, recall that once Socrates claimed poets were false artists who drive men to a state of sheer madness.

The opposite is true. The Victorian English poet, Percy Bysshe Shelley, wrote in his Defense of Poetry, “Poetry is a mirror which makes beautiful that which is distorted.” We have short memories: the world was distorted long before the state of Israel. Sir Philip Sidney writes: “Neither let it be deemed too saucy a comparison to balance the highest point of man’s wit with the efficacy of nature; but rather give right honor to the heavenly Maker of that maker, who having made man to His own likeness, set him beyond and over all the works of that second nature…” To Sidney, the artificial world of poetry, deemed useless by Socratics and Puritans, is complimentary to nature.

Likewise, the hands of the men and women of the first Aliyahs who built and defended Israel, and the hands of the men and women who continue to build and defend Israel – Judea and Samaria – are too doing honor to that “Maker.”

If such a magnificent art as poetry needs to be defended, it is because of its high value; like the Jewish State, on its own borders, which exists today. And oh my God, is it worth defending.

My Life As A Woman:  Breaching Definitions
By Aleathia Drehmer

It is very curious to have endured a night in which I felt I was bullied by a man into his ideal of woman.  He had me write a poem in the first person after pushing me relentlessly to reveal my biggest fear in the world.  This action had me crying silently in the soft lit room alone.  His persistence dragged me into the very idea of how a woman should react to a man.

I wrote the poem under protest with the main focus something suggested, possibly demanded, by him.  He wanted a poem that was free and in which the two of us had a kiss, nothing sexual, but a kiss that would release me from this position of imagining I am someone else instead of bleeding myself onto the page.  But a kiss that isn’t sexual only exists between children and parents.  When a woman steps to a man and kisses him, she is exuding something primal and sexual.  She is looking for a satisfaction.  She is looking for redemption.  She is looking for approval of her wiles.  When humans kiss they exchange pheromones and DNA.  How is this not sexual?  How is this not the man testing the woman’s mettle? Or vice versa?

His intension was true in looking back on it.  He was making a point that I keep my work at arm’s length.  He was telling me that I am not willing to be proud of what I feel enough to lay it on the paper.  He was challenging everything I believed I was doing right.  He made me vulnerable to not only him, but to myself.  In those wee hours I felt raw to the pressures of men I had spent the last few years trying to undo.  This apprehension building over 37 years on a journey that was imposed by “man” yet kept vital and vigilant by my own hand.

The poem is of decent quality, but it is not mine.  It is the seed planted by a man with designs to somehow bridge the gap between us that cannot be spanned.  I often fall trap to such things in my life, being subservient when every fiber of my being screams otherwise.  What made me write this poem under duress?  Why did I allow that to happen when I’ve worked so hard to find my own way?

I went to bed angry and full of disgust for men, which I do love in their own way, and a certain apathy for myself.  I gave up my own power and there was seemingly nothing given in return.  It made me consider my choice to live alone in these times of discovery.  I have spent my life in the company of men—always choosing men over women as this was what my primary female role model, my mother, showed me.  My mother was always surrounded by men, always being betrayed by other women.  I grew up thinking this is how it was and how it would always be.

My mother had a dichotomy to her that always confused me, but I seem to have adopted for my own anyway.  She always attempted to be stronger than a man—to push outside the boundaries they have set for women, yet she was continually embroiled in the mesh of her own desire to be near them, to have them think she was special, thus negating the hard stance of being strong, because they knew in the end she would fold in the hand of affection only to be broken.  I understand this dance.  I have lived it for most of my life, first by osmosis, and then for real.

This entire encounter with the man and the poem transpired in the night while purging my closets of a life that I do not aspire to live.  I was letting go of the spider webs that blind me and bind me to history’s fated path for a woman.  Everything removed is another space I can grow into.  Every space is another adventure whose outcome I don’t fully control.

I awoke still unhappy with what I’d allowed to happen and set out on a morning walk reading the essays of Adrienne Rich, whose work I admire for its painful honesty and bravery to be truthful in the face of society with its familial and historical pressures, and let my worry go.

In the essay “When We Dead Awaken:  Writing as Re-Vision”, Rich notes her beginning college adventures which she then traded to plunge into the typical American woman’s life.  It met her with an internal resistance she knew existed in all the women that came before her.  I identified with this passage below immensely and found my eyes watering in the corner chair of the coffee shop with the recognition that I was living a life she knew well:

“About the time my third child was born, I felt that I had either to consider myself a failed woman and a failed poet, or to try to find some synthesis by which to understand what was happening to me.  What frightened me most was the sense of drift, of being pulled along on a current which called itself my destiny, but in which I seemed to be losing touch with whoever I had been, with the girl who had experienced her own will and energy almost ecstatically at times, walking around a city or riding a train at night or typing in a student room” –Adrienne Rich

The great thing about life and being human is this power to recognize where life goes wrong and being able to change it.  My experience with that man last night was painful and went against everything I set out to achieve when I left my husband and broke away from the traditional American view of woman and family.  But in the exchange, I found the real reason for leaving that I had labeled with more romantic/domestic ideas because at the time, the words had not come to me in the upheaval and transition.  What I had desired and still desire, is personal freedom to be the kind of woman I want, the kind of woman that is not definable, not over looked, but taken seriously while still retaining compassion and humility for all of mankind.  The exchange last night was a revolution.  It was a coup d’etat that I had not expected.

It has turned to gold this summer morning.  It has turned to affirmation that my direction in life is pointing to that western horizon of existence—the direction associated with change and bravery and pioneering of the soul.  Life is as it should be.  I am here standing strong with my will intact and a renewed understanding of my life as a woman, of my life as a human.

“I am an instrument in the shape
of a woman trying to translate pulsations
into images         for the relief of the body
and the reconstruction of the mind.”

–Adrienne Rich “Planetarium”

Aleathia Drehmer 2011

A BRIEF INTRODUCTION TO THE RULE OF LAW

By Mark D. Friedman

When searching their tiny brains for a simple term that will describe a pluralistic, tolerant society, politicians and media commentators often use “democracy” as the appropriate word, as in “the protestors are demanding democracy for Egypt.” This usage is either a product of historical ignorance, outright stupidity or both. Democracies can be benign or oppressive, depending on the will of the majority. Russia and Venezuela are examples of the latter, as was the Jim Crow south.

Somewhat more sophisticated talking heads and pundits will substitute “rule of  law” for “democracy” when attempting to describe a stable, just polity.  However, in most cases this concept is employed in such a way that robs it of any explanatory value. Specifically, it is used as a synonym for societies that have enacted such constitutional safeguards as “due process,” “equal protection,” the separation of powers, etc.

But, history shows that constitutions are often ignored or suspended, and their lofty proclamations of rights have frequently proven useless against budding tyrants. This realization prompted the great political economist and theorist F.A. Hayek to elucidate a more penetrating understanding of the “rule of law.” In his view, the “rule of law” cannot refer to what is written in constitutions, but to those overarching societal values that ensure that such safeguards are respected in practice.

For Hayek, the “rule of law” exists only in those societies where there is an enduring political consensus that ensures that the law functions solely as a neutral framework enabling citizens to plan and conduct their affairs. It protects honest citizens against force and fraud, and otherwise leaves them alone. A classic example is our traffic code, which lays out “rules of the road” that permit us to get to our desired destinations, without dictating to us where we should travel. At the same time, it punishes drunk and reckless drivers, improving safety for all responsible drivers.

When the law ceases to be an indispensable “roadmap” that benefits all citizens, and instead becomes a tool for social engineering, it can then be used as a weapon by the most politically powerful elements in society. All too often it is turned against political dissidents and disfavored minorities.  Obviously, some paternalistic and redistributive government programs are very popular, particularly those that dispense benefits far out of proportion to actual contributions made by the recipients. But, those who support them implicitly accept that coercion may justly be employed against unwilling citizens in order to realize political objectives, and thereby surrender any moral basis for objecting to programs that they don’t happen to like. Societal acquiescence in political coercion for economic purposes is antithetical to the political ideal that maintains the rule of law generally, and is thus inherently dangerous.

Hayek identifies respect for private property rights as the lynchpin of the rule of law. When the state is able to manipulate the levers of economic power, it can maintain its corrupt political control by rewarding its friends and punishing its enemies. Secure property rights prevent this, as financial winners and losers are determined in the marketplace and not by politicians. The exiled Russian revolutionary, Leon Trotsky, observed that Stalin was using food as a political weapon, and then (belatedly) wrote, “In a country where the sole employer is the state, this means death by slow starvation. The old principle: who does not work shall not eat, has been replaced with a new one: who does not obey shall not eat.”

The primacy of free markets as the means of determining economic outcomes also promotes the evolution of social attitudes, such as individual initiative and self-reliance, that underpin the rule of law. People who take responsibility for supporting themselves and their families are more likely to back private sector solutions rather than the “Great Society” approach in addressing social problems. On the other hand, the beneficiaries of government programs tend to support the activist state; few people are willing to bite the hand that feeds them.

Obviously, the “rule of law” is for Hayek an ideal. It is never been fully realized in practice, and our society is certainly no exception. In my book, I use “case studies” from Great Britain, Germany and Mexico to illustrate the benefits and hazards of adhering to or rejecting the rule of law. Sadly, from the New Deal onwards we have consistently moved away from this ideal, as I will show in future posts.

Chase-d Away

By Thomas Sullivan

My old bank suffered through the largest bankruptcy in US history. Its $20 million-a-year CEO retreated from the wrath of shocked customers, dismissed employees, and wiped-out shareholders to a mini-mansion on a hill, where he got busy shifting his other homes into residential trusts. But his work with the bank wasn’t done yet. He was summoned to Washington D.C., where he played the neglected child card, claiming before congress that regulators seized the bank unfairly in 2008 because it “fell outside of an inner circle of banks that were too clubby to fail.” It’s funny how banks always fight back against government intervention until they desperately need it to survive.

Before all this happened, Washington Mutual was a well-regarded bank. The branches were relaxed places that had cushy chairs to recline in while for waiting for help and large plants sprinkled around the lobby area. Friendly tellers that knew you by name would take extra time to chat and even joke around a bit. This was, I’ve learned from an acquaintance who worked there for twenty years before the collapse, not a coincidence. The physical bank and its human culture were purposely designed to feel informal and comfortable, and for many years the corporate marketing slogan was “Friend Of The Family.” It was small-town friendliness applied to large city banking. It was humane, and it largely worked.

In my local branch, a digital photo machine stood near the entrance to the line for the tellers. The device displayed pictures of customers’ pets, looping through shots of poodles, beagles, and other small dogs with cheery names like “Peppy” and “Skip.” Watching Sunshine frolic with a stick in the front yard or nap on a couch was a great way to liven up the minor burden of standing in line.

But unbeknownst to most of us, the executives were busy turning the 120-year-old regional bank into “the Wal-Mart of banking”. Branches were springing up throughout the country and mortgages were becoming things with Always Low Prices, available to Dimebag Darrell and anyone else with a pulse. It’s debatable as to whether this benevolent democratization of lending was genuine or simply an I-Feel-Your-Pain-And-Want-To-Help, Now-Send-Me-To-Congress-So-I-Can-Cash-In-Later type of ploy by executives. I suspect the latter — in banking as in politics, the most deceptive are usually the most “successful,” at least in the short run until they blow themselves up. Regardless, the dramatic lowering of lending standards quickly doomed the institution. The bank collapsed and JP Morgan Chase bought it for a discounted price that would make Wal-Mart smile.

When I heard the news, I told my favorite teller that if the new owners removed the dog-photo machine, I was moving my money. She promised with a smile to pass along my concerns to the higher-ups. Chase came in a week later with its buttoned-down approach and removed the machine. They were the stern step-parent that knew order and discipline had to be applied to the new family. There was no room in a serious endeavor for frivolous things like pet photos. I balked at my idle threat and left my money in the account, not wanting deal with the hassle of finding another bank. I figured I’d see how things went with the change.

Shortly after the transition, billboards started popping up around town, welcoming us into the Chase family. The messages were designed to convince Seattleites that, despite being headquartered in New York, the bank really was “one of us” and interested in the same things that appealed to us. The first sign I saw showed a guy in bike tights hoisting a mountain bike over his shoulder, as if carting it to a pawn shop to pay off a brutal late-fee. Other billboards celebrated regional culture-markers like coffee, music, and perhaps computer programming (Gt $ fstr), but no one is quite sure what that one was really about.

I didn’t know much about Chase but didn’t really mind that they were non-local. Banking is just banking, I thought, so who cares? I’d been with a different local bank ten years earlier that got absorbed by Bank Of America, and that experience had worked out fine. But I decided to poke around online and do some research anyway. It was like looking into the crawlspace at John Wayne Gacy’s house. My Google search turned up blog after blog describing account errors and customer service horror stories where frustrated account-holders were actually encouraged to leave. I found out that, despite the billboard’s professed affection for mountain sports, Chase is the largest funder of mountaintop removal in the Appalachians. I learned that they were a large funder of Massey Energy. I read about how few mortgage modifications troubled homeowners were able to get through Chase. I read about the fees on debit cards from Chase that some states now use to pay out unemployment insurance (one man’s job loss is now apparently just another man’s ideal revenue stream).

But I hadn’t had any problems, so like many others I kept my money where it was.

By this spring, however, discontent seemed to be bubbling up. In April a branch in Seattle was vandalized by anarchists, who as a group were far too out of Chase’s comfort zone to ever have a chance of appearing on one of its billboards. Three weeks later a second branch was vandalized. Opposition to the bank started coming from other unexpected places. In May a group of clergymen gathered at the steps of Chase’s New York headquarters and performed an exorcism, claiming that the bank was “possessed by the demons of selfishness and avarice.”

Lazily, but increasingly shamefully, I stuck with the bank. It still hadn’t gotten personal.

Credit card offers started appearing in my mail a few weeks ago. One was a Chase “Freedom Card”, with which I was free to plunge deeply into debt. After a brief but temporary respite, the credit assault on the credit-unworthy (ie people like me) appeared to be returning.

I ripped them up but stayed with the bank.

But then I walked into the branch of Chase near my new apartment. I finished filling out my little slip and shuffled into line just as the altercation started. A teller behind the counter was attempting to explain to an older woman why her account was in the red. It was due, she said, to an overdraft fee of thirty-five dollars. The woman shuffled back and forth in her Velcro-strap sneakers, becoming agitated as she questioned the size of the fee. The teller tried again as a weary manager walked up to them. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled before joining the discussion. The volume picked up with the addition of the new combatant and the scene devolved into a Three Stooges routine without the humor. The people in line with me looked down and around in a futile attempt avoid the unpleasantness. The woman suddenly reared her head back and shouted “That’s my last thirty-five dollars for the month! I need that money to fucking live!” Then she stormed out of the building in tears.

The customers stood there for a moment in silence before the teller blandly said “Next?” Everyone around me, including the employees, seemed embarrassed. Business resumed in an eerie and solemn quiet, with customers approaching the counter as if they were preparing to view the body at a wake.

It didn’t involve me directly, but it had finally gotten personal. You hear the stories, but it’s different when you see it up close and in person, and not on a blog or in a newspaper. I realized that they just don’t care. They want it all and will do whatever is needed to get it. Nothing is off the table and nothing is out of bounds. It’s become a real-world zombie film, where the brain-dead hunt down anyone that still has money left. It’s not a business strategy, it’s a pathology. And to remain a willing part of it is like watching porn – you need to suspend your humanity and accept the humiliation of people you don’t know. And then pay for that privilege.

I made my deposit, grabbed a mint from a jar in the waiting area, and headed for the exit. Approaching the door, I thought about the woman and envisioned her as a newly minted anarchist tossing a molotov cocktail through the spotless glass. If that group ever wanted to do a recruiting drive, the curb out front of Chase would be the perfect place to set up a booth.

The experience was sad and ugly, but there was also no need to remain angry. It was simply time, as Willie Nelson once said, to “plow around the stone.” A week later I joined the local credit union. They don’t have a pet-photo machine, but it’s also a not-for-profit operation, which seems to make a lot of sense given what the for-profit banking world has put us through recently. The for-profit model used to work for regular people, but not anymore. People are slowly realizing that this is a brand new era, where taking your last $35 is how a zombie-CEO “earns” $20 million.

My new bank’s motto is “It’s more than just money”. That sounds right to me.

Blood

by Roger Porter

I was at the boxing gym one day jumping rope while watching these two men spar in the ring. One of the men was young, tall, and frail. The other was older, shorter, but more muscular. The younger fighter was around 20 years old and he turned out to be no real match for the more experienced boxer. By the end of the 1^st round there was a slow trickle of blood streaming from his left nostril. The trainer of the young fighter sent him out for two more rounds and although he showed heart he took a lot of punishment for it.

By the end of the session blood flowed freely from both of his nostrils. He tried to sniff it up but it began to pour onto his top lip as he climbed out of the ring. Perhaps it was because he was embarrassed or perhaps he was still high off of adrenaline or maybe it was both but as he approached me he wore a deep goofy grin—the kind I’ve seen on the faces of teenagers high on ecstasy pills. Before he went to the bathroom to clean his face he said to me;

“That’s the only time I feel alive when I’m in that ring.”

Initially it sounded troubling coming from the mouth of a man so young but as I began to ponder his statement the truth was undeniable. As adults we learn to keep everything inside until the time is appropriate to release it; all of our fears, all of our pain, and all of our regrets. When we bleed, however, it is a rare instance of when what moves around inside of us comes out for the world to see. If one has ever seen his or her own blood pouring from ones flesh then one knows that initially it is almost always shocking to be exposed in that manner. For everyone knows that blood is the fluid that courses through our veins but to actually see it is something else all together. In a very real sense blood represents life. Thus when we bleed it makes a moment real.

And then sometimes when we don’t bleed it makes a moment even more real.

As in when one discovers that they are going to have a child. When the normal flow of blood is interrupted by a new life it forever alters ones universe. I received this information from my girlfriend at about 11:00pm one night. It was a very surreal conversation that took place over 6 years ago. It was a wild experience for her to discover that there would be no more blood for at least 9 months; no heavy flow, no light flow, no flow at all. Something that had been a regular occurrence to her since adolescence had vanished and there was an actual creature moving, growing, and kicking inside of her. It took away her appetite sometimes and increased it at others. Ultimately it consumed every aspect of her being until alas a woman child was born; a little 6 pound thing that shared our blood and screamed with life. This little baby now represented more than the stoppage of blood, she was now truly alive.

During my existence on Earth I’ve seen blood in many forms. I’ve seen it flow in rivulets, I’ve seen it collected in pools on the concrete, I’ve seen it make white shirts bright red, and I’ve seen it make blue jeans dark and wet. Every time I see blood I become hyper-sensitive to the world around me. I am forced to remember that life can be such a brutal journey. I realize that it is everything beneath the flesh that gives us depth and makes us real, for everything else is merely on the surface.

Editor’s note: Mark D. Friedman is a retired attorney, now practicing political philosophy without a license. His book, Nozick’s Libertarian Project: An Elaboration and Defense (London: Continuum International Publishing), will be released here in May. For a fuller discussion of rights-based libertarianism, please visit his site: NaturalRightsLibertarian.com.

SMOKERS, THE PERSECUTED MINORITY

By Mark D. Friedman

Tobacco consumers are clearly one of the favorite whipping boys of those who run the Nanny State.  Extremely heavy and discriminatory taxes are levied on tobacco products, their public advertisement has been severely restricted, scary health warnings are mandated on their packaging, public service announcements decry their use, and our politicians have enacted smoking bans in or near public buildings, and even outdoors in public parts. Sadly, this campaign is closer to paternalistic hysteria than a reasoned approach to a public health issue.

Although I discuss it, my primary concern here is not the taxation of smokers, but rather the trend towards the ban of smoking in commercial buildings. Although the state may be acting unwisely when it bans all smoking in its own facilities, mandated bans affecting private businesses are a frontal attack on property rights. We will show that the free market solution to the regulation of tobacco use is far superior in every way than the methods employed by the Nanny State.

The most obvious justification for anti-smoking legislation is the notion of negative “externalities,” i.e. as Jane Gravelle has expressed it, “the financial spillover costs from smoking that are incurred because we have social and medical insurance systems that charge uniform premiums and don’t differentiate those premiums according to whether or not you smoke.”  As everyone knows, smokers have a greater likelihood of premature death from lung cancer, heart disease and stroke.

Naturally, it is expensive to treat these conditions, and the estimates one reads that conclude that smoking costs us a gazillion dollars are based on a methodology that simply attempts to add up all the various costs involved. But this approach is like compiling a financial balance sheet that only counts a company’s liabilities and not its assets. Because smokers are more likely die of lung cancer, etc., they are less likely to die of other diseases and they don’t tend to linger for long periods in nursing homes.

Therefore, there is substantial scientific evidence that smokers do not create negative externalities, although as one would expect the evidence is far from conclusive. See the studies cited by Cnossen, “Tobacco Taxation in the European Union” (May 2006). Our effort to nullify what we assume to be the disproportionate healthcare utilization by tobacco consumers takes the form of heavy discriminatory taxes on this product. The revenues collected can then be used to offset these supposed costs. Such taxes consist of a federal tax of $1.01 per pack and state excise taxes that vary widely, but average $1.45 per pack.  Although it is impossible to demonstrate this definitively, it is almost certain that the taxes collected from cigarette smokers far exceed the extra costs, if any, that they impose on our healthcare system.

Therefore, insofar as we are considering only their self-regarding behavior, far from earning their status of social pariahs, smokers are actually more like a persecuted minority. They are the victims of special taxes that make no more sense from the point of view of fairness than would equally arbitrary taxes on golfers, birdwatchers or quilters. Therefore, those who wish to ban smoking in public places do not solely rely on the spillover argument, but also typically invoke the dangers of secondhand smoke or “ETS” (environmental tobacco smoke).

However, laws that prohibit smoking on private property are inconsistent with libertarian principles, as the right to set such ground rules rests solely with the owners, or to those to whom they have sold this right, i.e. their tenants. The point here is that the state has no right to regulate private property unless the owner is conducting or permitting some activity on the property that violates the rights of others.  Smoking on private property when permitted by the owner does not violate the rights of non-smokers, since shoppers who object to being exposed to ETS can patronize other stores, potential employees can restrict their job search to smoke-free workplaces, and renters who object to ETS in public areas can seek out completely smoke free apartment buildings.

Libertarians support the right of a private property owner to act even in an economically irrational manner so long as they do not violate the equal rights of other people. Thus, from this moral perspective, this case is closed. However, it is worth noting that even from the utilitarian point of view, respect for property rights will more justly balance the competing interests of smokers and those who object to ETS.

Note first that smokers obviously enjoy this activity, and this pleasure should be incorporated in any utilitarian calculation. At the same time, many people find ETS objectionable. The obvious advantage of the laissez faire solution over an inflexible legislative one is that since potential customers and employees can “vote with their feet,” the owner’s profit motive should cause her in each case to balance the stakeholders’ overall preferences and their intensity, yielding the optimal balance of smoking and smoke free establishments.

For example, the preferences of the individuals who might potentially patronize an art gallery or fine dining restaurant may be such that a total ban on smoking might yield the best business outcome. In other contexts, such as commercial office space, it might make sense from the perspective of the property owner to have a designated smoking area or special smoking rooms.  Finally, for certain bars and restaurants it might maximize profit to allow smoking throughout the establishment.  In each case, the profit-maximizing owner will tailor her policy to the preferences of her customers or clients which will maximize utility overall.

*                            *                            *

On a personal note, my book, Nozick’s Libertarian Project: An Elaboration and Defense, is now available for purchase. It is only published in hardcover and its primary target market is academic libraries, so it is very expensive (I get only a tiny percentage). Therefore, I suggest that those who wish to read it without going broke request that your local library purchase a copy for your reading pleasure.

About Groove

by Scott Krane

There are many ways to be in the groove. The commission-driven salesman, always in the lead, finds himself in the groove – the business groove.

The preacher in a Southern Baptist church finds himself, on a particularly inspired Sunday morning rant, in a rhetorical Groove.

The writer whose fingers dancing on the keyboard cannot keep up with the ideas racing through his mind in order to succinctly express them on the page is in a writing groove.

The jazz trio whose drummer and bass player are locked into a clock-like rhythm creating a canvas for the piano soloist to paint on, stealing from the exciting energy of each fresh moment as it flies through time, are in a groove; a musical groove.

The dancers, hearing this music, flailing their arms and throwing their partners along sensed waves of rhythm, shaking their hips and shuffling their feet in perfect grace are in a groove – a dancing groove.

And the sliding window that never fails to slide or, fall off its track, is in a groove; a mechanical engineering groove.

While these associations of groove are diverse enough to confuse even the most organized thinkers, they do share a common denominator. Ergo there is such a phenomenon, be it physical or other, known as groove. It is unchanging, whether being applied to a sliding window, swing dancers, jazz musicians, a writer, gospel preacher, salesman, or even a cheese grater.

I think I encountered the essence of groove twice in my life. The first time, when as a guitarist playing in a quartet, I experienced communication with the other musicians in which we did not need to speak, but we made silent agreements on a psychic plane about the direction the improvised music would take.

The second experience happened at a wedding. On the dance floor there seemed to be a unity among the people moving their bodies, all agreeing on the steps of some un-choreographed tribal dance; so that no two people on the floor ever bumped into each other and there was a psychic connection so what I was doing with my body seemed to present a reaction to what the person next to me was doing with theirs, or vice versa. Or we were all being spun, twisted, twirled, bumped and playfully shoved by Terpischore, perched on a cloud above!

The vibrations were palpable.

And after a while, I became convinced that somehow, in turn, the powerful psychic energy on the dance floor was sending messages back to the musicians, driving the rhythm of the drummer in new directions and forcing the soloist to make new statements, commenting on the motion of the dancers and swept away by it on an invisible wave. This is what I considered to be groove.

Have you seen a break dancer move their body as if their bones were elastic? Or in staccato jerks, imitate the strobe movements of a robot?

And what about the genius tap dancer who needs not necessarily an audible rhythm to dance to, yet feels one, creating a percussive accompaniment to the rhythm which is not heard – defying the idea that dance is a reaction to music, and suggesting it must be born from the same third-party source – the same groove.

(And if indeed a musical groove is attainable without an audible rhythm or other sound, and if not removed from music itself, then we will assume it is a result of music once heard and recorded in the memory bank).

Be it the syncopated 4/4 Rhythms of funk music, or salsa, or the swish-flapping wind shield wipers of the car – any organization of sound creates a groove. Though, one has to know how to uncover it, use it; enjoy it. This is what melts a good salsa or break-dancer into elasticity, and programs the funky robot.

Then shall we assume that the groove is a byproduct of the rhythm of the Universe – constructed, written or choreographed before the first note is heard?

The term ‘groove’ has managed to creep into our slang lexicon, though alas without an appreciation for the word’s origins.

The concept of groove is certainly related to the concept of rhythm. We often hear the phrase, “timing is everything.” We are talking about rhythm when we say, “I am really in a good groove at Work.” Or “the musicians were really hooked into a deep groove.” This means that the rhythm which the mind is applying to the activity is close to perfection. Or the activity’s relation to the time applied is so close to perfection that rhythm no longer matters. And when we say, “I am feeling groovy,” it means that the mind was able to conquer the obstacles presented by time or the stress caused thereby – and it is indeed a rewarding feeling – that is, one who feels “groovy” feels happy. When we are “in the groove,” we lose our concept of time.

The pressures of time have driven people to heart attacks and nervous breakdowns. So the trick of getting in the groove is to release oneself from such unhealthy constraints.

As a response to the above expressed inquiry, we shall not assume groove is a byproduct of rhythm – nor shall we assume it has to do with the natural rhythm of the Universe. Instead, let’s say groove is actually created by the mind when it happens on the ability to conquer such patterns of time.

(Or perhaps the mind is simply a tool used to uncover it — its domain, elsewhere or mysterious)

Another definition of groove is a narrow and long channel, like the gutters in a bowling alley; or the marks on a screw or, behold, the grooves on a vinyl record for instance.

Hence we call groove – no matter to what we are applying the term – a niche or pocket, usually long and narrow. And it must be one that ignores or offends the regular pattern. It finds a way to subjugate any stressful or confining measure of time, such as mundane rhythms or deadlines or smooth even surfaces or graphical outlines on a page.

He that attains a groove in his activity has defeated the negative, pressure-causing constraints of time. If the gargantuan, architectural constructions or the fast-moving transportation of the Industrial Revolution managed to defeat, in a way, the formidable factor of space – I insist man overcomes the nervous conditions and constrictions of time by reaching a state of groove.

A Fleeting Daydream

By Roger Porter

Sometimes when I’m in the midst of people watching while at a Cafe or walking down the street, I admit to having very random thoughts. Often times I see people who are mentally ill talking to themselves and blurting out obscenities or whatever else comes to mind and I become envious.

I know how strange that must sound but I cannot deny the truth. I am aware that most people are either repulsed by the mentally ill, indifferent, or sympathetic—but then again I’m not most people.

I honestly think that it takes a lot of courage to walk down the street wearing whatever clothes you want to wear, unkempt hair, and an unshaven face knowing that people are going to point, laugh, or stare and not care at all.

I admire the people who we tend to call crazy in a way because no matter what happens they continue to sing their song. They refuse to fall in line like the rest of us and do normal things, and have normal ambitions, and wear normal clothes.

Assata Shakur once wrote; “Only the strong go crazy. The weak just go along.” Therefore the mentally ill people who we see on the streets may not have families or homes like us “sane” folks but they have something that we don’t have—the strength to go against the grain. And on these days I just want to give up my laptop and roam the Earth until my shoes get holes in the bottom. I want to wear a full length leather jacket in the middle of July and walk around shirtless in the winter not caring if I live or die.

Then maybe I’ll meet a friend that no one else can see but me and we’ll have lengthy conversations about love, hypocrisy, sweet potato pie, and The Little Mermaid. And when we walk down the street people will clear the way and give us the whole sidewalk because they respect us that much.

And we will have peace of mind, we will have healthy souls, and we will truly love ourselves. People will look at us and shake their heads as if to say what a shame, and we will have pity on those poor unfortunate souls because both of us had the foresight to jump out right before the whole thing exploded while they all died in the wreck.

Then my daydream ends.

I save my document, logout, and close my laptop.

LIBERTARIAN THEORY AND TAXES

By Mark D. Friedman

As many of you are painfully aware, we just passed through tax season. I thought therefore  that I would take this opportunity to say a few words about what would constitute a fair tax system from the natural rights libertarian perspective. Given that taxes are imposed and collected on a nonconsensual basis, and that libertarians are by nature hostile to coercion, we must first ask whether any tax can be morally justified.

As indicated in previous posts, I think that certain governmental functions stand on a different moral footing than others, including, military defense, courts and domestic law enforcement.  Nonconsensual taxes in support of these goods can be justified by the critical role they play in enabling us to exercise our moral agency,  and it is this capacity that accounts for the special status we assign human beings.   Moral agency is the unique (so far as we know) capacity that competent adults have to recognize right from wrong, and to conform our conduct to the dictates of morality.

Regardless of our income and wealth, we are all moral agents. We all have obligations to our loved ones, friends, community, and society at large and arguably to ourselves that we either honor or ignore by our actions. This conduct defines who we are from the moral point of view.  Of course, if you are starving in the streets, you will have little opportunity for moral agency, and for this reason I support coercive taxation to provide a social safety net for those who are in desperate need through no fault of their own.

With this theoretical background, it should be apparent that since we all benefit in the same way and to the same extent from those essential public goods that enable moral agency, we should all pay, more or less, the same percentage of our income as a tax. In other words, essentially a “flat” tax, with an exemption for the very poor, and with the well-off paying a slightly higher percentage to finance the safety net.  Of course, in real terms, a rich taxpayer will still pay far more than a middle class one in funding such services since a 20% rate applied to $1 million in income will yield far more in tax revenue than the same rate applied to a $50,000 income.

In an ideal world, the rate of the flat tax would be far less than the current top tax rate because we would eliminate all the social engineering projects and favoritism built into the current tax code, i.e. deductions or credits for home mortgage interest, children, charitable contributions, etc. There is, for example, simply no justification for the state to use its monopoly on force to reward homeowners at the expense of renters.

The current system is also intolerably unfair because it permits one segment of society to benefit at the expense of another by imposing taxes that the initiating group will not pay.  In other words, we all get to vote but 45% of all U.S. households do not pay federal income tax, see “Super Rich See Federal Taxes Drop Dramatically.”  This constituency of non-payers constitutes a potentially irresistible voting bloc that can make other individuals work for them. I don’t believe that this arrangement is any fairer than if a majority, consisting of right-handed voters, imposed a special tax that only the left-handed would have to pay.

Editor’s note: Mar­cus Speh is a writer, ex-particle physicist, professor, executive coach, web head, father, fictionaut, former fencer and paratrooper, cur­rent maitre d’ of the kaffe in katmandu, curator of the One Thousand Shipwrecked Penguins project and mensch who lives in Berlin and blogs at Nothing To Flawnt.

**For a simply delicious audio version of the author reading this work, click here: Reading for Writers

READING FOR WRITERS

by Marcus Speh

Reading in your teens. Reading in your 30s and your 40s. Reluctantly reading in your 60s. Reading on your deathbed. Rigorous reading. Not reading for a week. Not reading for a year. Reading only what you like. Reading what you’d like to write. Reading very slowly. Reading very fast. Reading in another language you understand. Reading in another language you don’t understand. Reading aloud. Reading aloud but whispering. Reading aloud but shouting. Being read to by your mom or dad. Reading with a running nose. Running while reading. Reading as an actor. Being read to by someone you want to have sex with. Having sex with someone while reading. Making love to someone who is reading. Making love to someone who read your book. Reading to a revolutionary. Reading the news. Dozing off while reading. Reading to write. Reading with a respirator. Reading thoughts. Reading in someone else’s room. Reading in someone else’s bed. Reading for business. Reading to be well read. Re-reading. Reading in Reading. Reading while rolling. Getting paid for reading. Reading, then writing, then reading some more. Reading e-books. Racing your friend to the bookstore, then reading. Reading in a library. Reading the bible. Reading with writer’s block. Reading in prison. Reading the Kaballah. Reading your soul. Reading the fine print. Reading penguin tracks in the snow. Reading as if for the first time. Reading your work. Reading your face when you read this.