Inside the echo chamber

            I was called a white supremacist. I laugh at this now but at the time I was confused. Why would someone call me this? Did I do something wrong? As I thought about these questions and reflected on what I had said I came to realize that I was not a white supremacist. To fully understand this story we need to go back to the beginning.

            Like any story now-a-days this begins on Facebook. Recently I joined a group called Free Cascadia. I joined this group because I realized that I was not getting a lot of ‘left wing’ media and so I decided to see what the other side was talking about. One of the posts in the group was a picture of the statue of George Washington and the person who posted it said it needed to be torn down and that George Washington was a racist who committed Genocide. Me, not able to keep my mouth (or rather my keyboard) shut had to reply.

            I tried to explain that Washington was more than just a slave owner and a fighter of natives. That history was complex and everyone is a product of their time. This seemingly neutral stance led to a torrent of replies full of hatred toward Washington and articles from Antifa websites put forward as ‘proof’. As if I could not see the clear bias in those articles. I read them and refuted their points but for my efforts I was told that I am a bigot. It was then that someone asked “Are you a white supremacist?” I did not respond to the question. I had gone to bed and woke up to another torrent of comments demanding that I answer the question.

            I thought about it for a long time. I wondered if I answer the question honestly by saying no I am not what will happen? I would be virtue signaling and giving in to their demands. I thought this question to be so ridiculous that it did not warrant a reply. If I lied and said I was they would believe it. If I told the truth they would call me a liar. They had asked a question they had already determined the answer to and no answer I could give would be satisfactory. So I made the choice to not play that game. I am still part of that group because it is important to see where the other side is coming from. Yet all that is posted are articles about how to overthrow Trump and Capitalism. It is hard to go into someone else’s echo chamber but well worth the experience you find. Just remember to stick to your values and don’t play games where your only option is to lose.

The Responsibility of Freedom

            You don’t just have a right to freedom, but you have a responsibility to freedom. It is a heavy responsibility to carry but one that is well worth the weight. George Bernard Shaw wrote in Man and Superman “Liberty means responsibility. That is why most men dread it.” It is this dread of responsibility that has led a lot of people to turn toward the government for ‘rights’. Right to healthcare, Women’s rights, Trans rights the list goes on. But the more ‘rights’ you demand from the government the more power you are giving them. That is because Rights do not come from the government, they are something you are born with and as such government can only take them away.

            The debate over free speech is a clear example of a demand for ‘rights’ from the government, protection from hate speech, over natural rights, freedom of speech. When you demand rights from the government you are giving the government the ability to grant and takeaway your rights. Asking the government to protect you from hate speech is in reality asking the government to take away someone else’s rights. So when someone is demanding a ‘right’ to be protected from hate speech, that means they want to censor the free speech of others and use the government to do it. Of course politicians will go along with this because they need votes and will cast this censorship in the light of defending or protecting minorities, the disenfranchised, and vulnerable communities. H.L. Mencken reminds us that “The urge to save humanity is almost always a false face for the urge to rule it.” They can make themselves out to be a hero of the people as opposed to an authoritarian. When it comes to free speech we must remember the words of Benjamin Franklin “Whoever would overthrow the liberty of a nation must begin by subduing the freeness of speech.”

            One of the biggest responsibilities of freedom is putting the individual over the community. This freedom comes with a larger responsibility, personal responsibility. This means that you personally are responsible for your actions as well as your wellbeing. This is why identity politics is the antithesis to freedom. It removers personal responsibility and replaces it with community or group responsibility. That is to say if you are white, you are guilty of anything white people have done in the past. Personal responsibility also means relying on yourself to make sure you have what you need to survive. That means getting a job or a way to earn money so that you can buy food, pay medical expenses, and take care of yourself. This also means saving some of what you earn for the future. Once you have yourself taken care of you can then take care of those around you. Margaret Thatcher put it perfectly when she said,

 

“I think we’ve been through a period where too many people have been given to understand that if they have a problem, it’s the government’s job to cope with it. ‘I have a problem, I’ll get a grant.’ ‘I’m homeless, the government must house me.’ They’re casting their problem on society. And, you know, there is no such thing as society. There are individual men and women, and there are families. And no government can do anything except through people, and people must look to themselves first. It’s our duty to look after ourselves and then, also to look after our neighbor. People have got the entitlements too much in mind, without the obligations. There’s no such thing as entitlement, unless someone has first met an obligation.”

           

            Freedom is a beautiful and frightening thing. It allows each individual to decide for themselves how to live their life and to do what they want to do. It is also a deep responsibility that we need to live up to. Freedom does not always mean things go your way or that you get what you want, instead it means you have the unlimited potential to get what you want. I would urge everyone to keep in mind, freedom takes responsibility, so take responsibility for your freedom.

Quotes on Freedom and Freedom of Speech

These are a few great free speech quotes and quotes on freedom by men and women smarter then myself. Remember freedom and freedom of speech has a long history in the Western Tradition and is a proud part of the history of the West. Anyone who shares these values of freedom and free speech are welcome. Freedom is a right, but it is also a responsibility we must all share. I hope you enjoy the quotes.

“If liberty means anything at all, it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear.” George Orwell.

“Whoever would overthrow the liberty of a nation must begin by subduing the freeness of speech.” Benjamin Franklin, Silence Dogood, The Busy-Body, and Early Writings.

“Experience should teach us to be most on our guard to protect liberty when the Government's purposes are beneficent. Men born to freedom are naturally alert to repel invasion of their liberty by evil-minded rulers. The greatest dangers to liberty lurk in the insidious encroachment by men of zeal, well-meaning but without understanding.” Justice Louis Brandeis.

“The urge to save humanity is almost always a false face for the urge to rule it.” H.L. Mencken.

“I think we’ve been through a period where too many people have been given to understand that if they have a problem, it’s the government’s job to cope with it. ‘I have a problem, I’ll get a grant.’ ‘I’m homeless, the government must house me.’ They’re casting their problem on society. And, you know, there is no such thing as society. There are individual men and women, and there are families. And no government can do anything except through people, and people must look to themselves first. It’s our duty to look after ourselves and then, also to look after our neighbour. People have got the entitlements too much in mind, without the obligations. There’s no such thing as entitlement, unless someone has first met an obligation.” – Margaret Thatcher.

“Liberty means responsibility. That is why most men dread it.” George Bernard Shaw, Man and Superman.

Cultural Appropriation

            Have you ever worked at Taco Bell or Panda Express as a part time job? If so then you are a huge racist and should probably be made to wear a colored letter of some kind in public. This sounds crazy and it honestly is, unless you believe in the idea of cultural appropriation. According to Susan Scafidi, law professor at Fordham University and author of Who Owns Culture? Appropriation and Authenticity in American Law cultural appropriation is,

“Taking intellectual property, traditional knowledge, cultural expressions, or artifacts from someone else's culture without permission. This can include unauthorized use of another culture's dance, dress, music, language, folklore, cuisine, traditional medicine, religious symbols, etc. It's most likely to be harmful when the source community is a minority group that has been oppressed or exploited in other ways or when the object of appropriation is particularly sensitive, e.g. sacred objects.”

A closer look at this definition shows how ill-informed this idea is. “Taking… from someone else’s culture without permission.” Who do you get permission from? If I want to make tortilla and start selling tacos in a food truck, do I have to get a permission slip from any Mexican saying it is okay or is there a department of cultural affairs I need to go to file a petition to ‘appropriate’ someone’s culture? You can clearly see that this idea is rooted in Marxist philosophy because it separates people into groups and labels some of them oppressed and other oppressors. The ideas behind cultural appropriation are also totalitarian and a form of segregation.

They want to control who can do what based on skin color/culture. To them the two are linked. What is even crazier is that if you turn the ideology around you get White Nationalism, an ideology equally as ridiculous. White Nationalists want a white ethno state and the people behind cultural appropriation want to keep tortilla for Mexican’s. Seems like these people would get along just fine.

So what can we do about this ideology that shuts down business because they are offended? First we must support the businesses that are under attack and let them know they are not alone. We won’t let them suffer because some outrage addict is directing a smear campaign against them. Second, we must shine a light on this behavior and mock it. And lastly we must refuse to let them dictate to us our behavior. So go forth and eat burritos, dance the salsa, sell tortillas, and enjoy other cultures.

Dear America

Dear America,

I am sorry you have been called racist and sexist. I know you are neither of those things. Yes you had a part of your history that was racist and sexist but you have taken steps to overcome that and correct the problem. Yet you are still called racist and sexist because of what has happened in the past. I am not saying we should ever forget the past, freedom needs vigilance, but we should also realize and celebrate the change in your point of view and your core ideals which made this change possible. Just because everyone does not have the same outcome does not mean you are still racist or sexist. Everyone has the freedom and opportunity to reach those outcomes but just because not everyone reaches them does not make you out to get them. It is not your fault that I cannot play in the NFL, I do not possess the talent, size, strength, or ability to make it into the NFL. Just like it is not your fault that someone is poor. Yes it is harder for people born into poor families and areas to make it out but I have faith in people in making the best possible future for themselves if you leave them alone. In fact if we want to look back at history we can see that Government getting involved and doing things with people almost never works. No one wants someone else telling them what to do.

NoFact #3 Transphobia in Schools

            Cops were called to SJW high school today after a confrontation between students took place after school. Connie Nist, the spokesperson for Blue County Schools District told NoFact reporters that the two students were best friends and that she is shocked this happened in her community. She goes on to explain that the two were walking toward the south exit of the school when the incident occurred. The two students were talking about gym class when all of a sudden one of the boys turned to the other and said, “You throw like a girl.”

A teacher, Felix Snow, who was in the hall when it happened saw the whole thing. “It was like listening to a Nazi rally. I was so horrified I immediately went into my classroom, locked the door and called the principle.” The teacher was still shaken just remembering the incident. The principle called the police, who arrived on scene in riot gear in a matter of minutes. The school Principle, Ed Doctrination, told NoFact that he “takes cases of misgendering people very seriously” and that the school “has a zero tolerance policy with regards to Transphobia.”

One student was arrested and taken to jail where he could face fines and possibly jail time. The student who was targeted for harassment was upset about his friend, but declined to comment.

 

NoFact News: We don’t report the facts, we report the truth!

Writing a Novel

            Writing a novel is something that I’ve always wanted to do. I have started several times only to abandon my work before I finished. I even got half way through a novel before I stopped working on it. I have always had this idea in my head that I should just be able to sit down and write a novel. I mean if J.K. Rowling can do it, why not me? I find out each time that planning is very important when writing a novel.

            I know this is a departure from my usual blog posts but it is important to me so I am going to write about. Who knows it could be kind of fun to see my mental anguish on paper as I work through the process. I am going to try to write a novel, again. I am really starting to take writing seriously and so I think I need to get this done. It might not be the best novel in the world, chances are very good that it won’t be, but it will be a novel that I wrote. It will be the fulfillment of a long time dream of mine to write a novel. So I have made a plan this time and have scheduled time to work on it every day. Now my only problem is, what is my novel going to be about?

            I have had some characters in mind ever since I started writing back in high school. I have even had a bunch of good ideas. All those ideas are scattered on a million different sheets of paper in several different locations throughout my house and on my computer. Some are even online. Where do you start? Do I formulate characters? How about a plot? What about villains? What kind of setting is it going to take place in? These are just a few of the millions of questions that all must be answered before I can write my novel.

            So why am I writing about this here on my blog. Well, first, I want to share my ideas with people and get feedback. This will help keep me honest in my writing. Next, it helps me think. Writing has always been a good way to help me think about something. I also thought that it might be interesting to someone, somewhere, at some time. Maybe no one will care until the novel is finished. Maybe I’ll gain a following. All this is the future, unknown and uncertain but full of value. So like the archetypal hero I will go into the underworld, slay the dragon, and take its gold. Who knows if the dragon will eat me, it has beaten me in the past, or if I’ll return with the gold to share but either way I must press on. Wish me luck.

Media Hate

            As I watch more and more of these ‘protests’ on the news and social media one thing stands out to me. It seems that when independent journalist and news organizations show up the protesters get upset. They get upset to the point where they try to grab the recording device out of the person’s hands and destroy it. They also hide their faces and dress alike so any action taken by one person could just as easily be any one of them. I was wondering why they do this.

            Let’s look at the desire not to be filmed. Each one of us has a desire to privacy but in the modern age with every cell phone equipped with a camera we have little reason to expect it. This is especially true in public places. I know if I am out for a walk with my wife and our dogs I don’t want someone to film me. The reason no one does is because no one wants to see a recording of me walking our dogs. Yet these protests are happening in a very public place and lots of people are interested. There is an expectation that people will be filming, either for an independent outlet, personal YouTube channel, or for the main stream media. So why do the protesters not want to be filmed?

            The protesters say they don’t want to be filmed to protect the safety of individuals in their group who will be targeted if they are known to do what they are doing at the protests. The protesters often try to parallel themselves with the Civil Rights movement and certainly see themselves in that light. They believe they are fighting for Trans Rights, Gay Rights, and any number of endless categories of rights. Most of us just call those human rights but I guess that I’m leaving out those who do not identify as human (yes that is a thing). So why did the Civil Rights movement want the media to film their protest and these modern protesters not want to be filmed? My hypothesis is that they do not want to be filmed because they are going to commit crimes. We have seen lots of destruction of property, arson, and even assault.

            This is also part of why they all dress the same and cover their faces. To prevent them being charged with a crime. I guess to them being charged with a crime they premeditated and committed is a type of targeting and discrimination. The rest of us call it justice but words are a social construct to them so why not just change the meaning whenever it suits you. Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn once said “Ideology—that is what gives evildoing its long-sought justification and gives the evildoer the necessary steadfastness and determination. That is the social theory which helps to make his acts seem good instead of bad in his own and others' eyes, so that he won't hear reproaches and curses but will receive praise and honors.”

They are possessed of an ideology that justifies their actions to them. With this ideology it is okay to destroy businesses, after all they are just part of oppressive capitalism. It is okay to beat people in the street because they have the wrong political or moral perspective and representing that perspective is oppressing people. It tells them they are fighting back against aggressors, they are defending themselves and others from tyranny, and those who stand against or even try to stand aside are Nazi’s (or Nazi sympathizers) worthy of being punched. Part of them knows, at the very least, society does not justify or condone their actions. So they hide their face and identity and try to attack media outlets, especially those they have deemed opposed to them (Fox, Brightbart, Rebel Media). The leaders of the Civil Rights movement knew people would understand their message and their cause when they saw the problems for themselves. Antifa and left wing protesters don’t have a cause, they have an ideology that tells them, they are right no matter what and gives them license to act by any means necessary.

Campus Dialogue

Lucy: My friend, Carlos, is a person of color. He is currently attending college to get a degree in Engineering.

Mike: What did you just say? Did you just say Person of color?

Lucy: Yeah, why?

Mike [looking around nervously]: Are you sure that’s not racist?

Lucy: No, that’s the correct term now.

Mike: Are you sure, it sounds a lot like colored person.

Lucy: Oh my god, did you just say colored person?

Mike: Yeah, but just as a reference to what you were saying.

Lucy: I think you have some racial biased to work on Mike.

Mike: What!? Colored person and person of color is the same thing. If one is racist so is the other.

Lucy: That’s not true. Colored person puts the color of the person first, while person of color puts the person first. See totally different.

Mike: No, it really is not that different. Referring to someone as a colored person or a person of color puts emphasize on color. We should all be trying to look past the color to the person. I mean I don’t see color.

Lucy: Mike! I never knew you were such a racist! You need to check your privilege. I should have known, you are a white male after all.

Mike: What are you talking about? I’m not racist, we’ve known each other since we were five years old. We even had a Hispanic friend on our street that we both hung out with.

Lucy: See, just what a racist would say.

Mike: What?

Lucy: A racist would say, “See I’m not racist, I have a friend who is Hispanic”. Just what a racist person would say.

Mike [In a calm voice]: Lucy are you okay, you are making no sense.

Lucy: I’m just so shocked that someone I have known for so long is a racist. Next thing I know you’ll say the wage gap isn’t real.

Mike [looks back and forth for a moment]: It isn’t real. The wage gap is determined by people’s personal choices in careers.

Lucy: You’re a misogynist too! I can’t believe it, I’ve been friends with a Nazi for so long.

Mike [Laughing]: A Nazi? That’s funny, there is no way I’m a Nazi.

Lucy: You just said Nazi things and if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck…

Mike [Grinning]: Then it must be a Nazi.

Lucy: This isn’t funny Mike, you need to take this seriously. I think you need to go to sensitivity training.

Mike: Fuck that, I’m not doing that.

Lucy: Mike if you ever cared about me then you will go to sensitivity training.

Mike: Why? Just because I said People of Color and Colored People is the same thing.

Lucy [screams]: They are not the same thing. You need to get educated.

Mike: You mean reeducated, right? No thanks.

Lucy: I can’t believe you think this is a big joke. People are being killed and you are making jokes.

Mike: Who is being killed?

Lucy: LBGTQIA+ people, people of color (Mike: colored people), and women.

Mike: So basically anyone who isn’t white and male and straight.

Lucy [hissing through clenched teeth]: Yes, because the patriarchy runs everything and it protects straight white cis-gendered men at the expense of everyone else.

Mike: Of course it does. I forgot about my patriarchy meeting later this week, thanks for reminding me.

Lucy: You still don’t care. You don’t care about all these people being slaughtered in the street simply because they are different.

Mike [Looks around at the empty street]: Oh man, the bodies are everywhere. I can’t believe I couldn’t see it before. Thank you Lucy for your screeching at me until I finally understood. I can see it all now.

Lucy: You will never get it.

Mike: Oh Lucy I get it. You’re a racist.

Lucy: No I’m not.

Mike: Then why did you support the black only graduation ceremony. I thought segregation was racist.

Lucy: It was not segregation it was a celebration of black people.

Mike: Where white people were not allowed to go.

Lucy: Because everywhere white people go they bring destruction and hate with them. I mean America was founded on racism, hate, and destruction.

Mike [Sighs]: How?

Lucy: We had slavery and we took the land from the Indians and women could not vote.

Mike: Everywhere had slavery even Africa, I think at the time the only place to not have slavery was England. The Indians killed each other over the land all the time. We fought for this land and won it through conquest, right or wrong it happened and it is not going to change. Women can vote now so what is the problem?

Lucy: The problem is that racism, sexism and hate are embedded into all our institutions and our culture.

Mike: Then wouldn’t it be embedded in every culture, since every culture has had sexism and racism and slavery in one form or another. Some cultures in the Middle East still oppress women and gay people.

Lucy: I should have guessed you were an Islamaphobe too.

Mike: An Islama-what?

Lucy: You hate Muslims.

Mike: How do you figure? Also I thought a phobia meant you were afraid of something, not that you hated it.

Lucy: You just said Middle Eastern culture oppress women, but what you really mean is Muslims and Islam oppress women. Not all Muslims are like that and I don’t appreciate you generalizing them to stir up bigotry. Your fear of Islam makes you hate it. If you only took a moment to get educated you’d understand there is nothing to be feared.

Mike: I’m so glad you are here to tell me what I really mean to say. I don’t know how I got through life without you translating everything for me.

Lucy: Mike if you don’t start taking this seriously there is going to be a lot of trouble.

Mike: That’s cute Lucy, what are you going to do call the police? Hit me?

Lucy: [Balls up her fist]: I should punch you, maybe I’d knock the Nazi out of you and I could have my friend back.

Mike: Funny I was thinking the same thing.

Lucy: Now you promote abuse toward women. You probably don’t even believe there is a campus rape culture.

Mike: Rape is bad, everyone knows it, even rapists. So no there is no campus rape culture that promotes rape.

Lucy: [Looks at Mike is shocked silence].

Mike: The problem on campus is the administrators try to handle everything in house. They are judge jury and executioner. Instead they need to turn these cases over to the police.

Lucy: The police! You mean people are supposed to go to the very people murdering them in the street and ask for help. Are you kidding me?

Mike: Murdering them in the street! Lucy you sound like a lunatic, do you even hear yourself?

Lucy: I could say the same about you. If you only knew what I knew or were educated properly you would have your eyes open. You would be able to see the reality around you and understand the truth of the world. I was ignorant like you before I took my first gender studies course, but at least I woke up. At least I care about other people and am trying to use my privilege to help those in need. The vulnerable who are under constant attack by bigots like you who refuse to accept their role in oppressing minorities and People of Color.

Mike: It sounds like you are in a cult and had a religious awakening. People of Color and colored people are the same thing, it separates people into groups. Everyone who is colored and those who are white. Look Lucy, clearly you are mixed up, how about we just get together for coffee tomorrow after classes and talk this out.

Lucy: I could never talk with someone who spews so such hate speech. You have no idea how much harm you are doing and how many people you are hurting. I never want to see you again. [Turns and stomps off]

Mike: What? You’re just going to throw our friendship away just like that? [Yelling] Lucy. [To himself] What just happened? What happened to her? [Walks away toward his next class]

Being American

            What does being American mean? Being American is a way of life and has nothing to do with nationality, ethnicity, place of birth or anything else. It is about freedom and personal responsibility. This means we are independent people. It is about working hard to achieve your dream and overcoming obstacles. This means we don’t stop trying just because it gets hard. It is about being able to disagree with someone but defending their right to disagree. This mean we help each other out when needed no matter what kind of ideas they have. Being American is a way of life.

            Freedom is what this country was built on. Not everyone was free at the founding of this country but it is that ideal placed at the root of our society that allowed for freedom to grow and reach more people with each passing generation. Each generation must take up the responsibility of freedom from our fathers and mothers lest it be lost to the ages. The responsibility of freedom is very heavy and is a difficult burden. This responsibility is the personal responsibility of each individual. It is the individual that allows for the society to be free. It is saying, sure it might be easier to have the government take care of this for me, but I can do it myself. Once you allow someone else to make choices for you, you are no better than a slave. The government cannot give you freedom, only you as an individual can accept the responsibility of freedom.

            The American Dream has changed and grown over time. Each generation defines the American Dream a bit differently, just as each individual has a different desire and dream for their own life. No one can give you everything you desire in life because no one other then you truly knows what that is. That means the best way to reach your dream is to work hard. Working hard can mean very different things to different people. To a writer working hard means writing every day and reading a lot. To a carpenter it means making things out of wood and working with an experienced carpenter. We all face challenges, from the rich to the poor, from the tall to the short. It is these challenges that test our character and push us to be that much better or to change our way of thinking. These challenges are not something to loath but something to overcome and in the overcoming to become stronger, smarter, and better.

            In America, a society made up of individuals, we will often disagree as much as we agree. One of our greatest ideals planted at the founding of our great country is the idea that we can speak freely to one another. This means we can disagree, we can have bad ideas and can say them out loud for everyone to hear. This allows us all to have a voice and to be heard so that we can settle problems with words. So that we can reach a consensus on what will be the best path going forward and try to follow that path. This is a powerful tool of the individual and is what makes us all part of the American society. That is why we must protect the right to speak for those we most disagree. If someone is deprived of that right then everyone can be deprived of that right and that will be the death of a free society and the individual.

            Being American is more than just being born here. It is about the responsibility of freedom. It is about working hard to make yourself better and overcoming challenges that get in your way. It about having the freedom to disagree and not letting that disagreement stand in the way of helping each other. Being American means something. It means more than nationality, ethnicity, place of birth or anything else. Being American is a way of life.

Morality Outbreak Part 2

As soon as I closed my eyes I was back in the street again, holding that gun. The slight movement of the struggle and then the stillness of the body. I looked around, the crowd started to cheer me and rushed in. They lifted me on their shoulders and carried to through the street. Flowers were thrown in front of my path as the crowd carried me up the steps to a building. They put me down in front of the door and I turned to look at them, they cheered as I raised my hands up over my head. The door opened behind me and I entered the building.

            Inside I saw two rows of seats and a faceless man in white robes standing in front of them. Dread filled me, I turned to leave but the doors were gone. When I turned back around the seats were full of people and they all were staring at me. A child in a blue suit walked up to me and looked directly into my eyes. I was afraid but I did not understand why. The child just looked at me for a long time. Overcome I finally asked, “What do you want?”

            The child did not move but watched me. I looked away but the child was there too. I closed my eyes and when I opened them again I was sitting in a small box. A door behind a screen slid open and a voice spoke, “Tell me your sins my son.”

            “Sins” I stammered “What do you mean?” There was no reply. “I don’t believe in this stuff, none of it is real, just blasphemy pushed by the fascists to control people’s minds.” My heart started to race. Somehow I knew what he meant. I panicked and tried to open the door but it was locked. I pounded on it and tried to kick it open until I exhausted myself.

“Be calm my son,” the voice said. I sat down and closed my eyes, drew in a deep breath and thought, this stuff is not real, it’s all just a fascist tool. I opened my eyes and was back in college. The professor was writing something on the chalkboard and the rest of the students were hurrying to write it down on their computers. The professor was standing so I could not see what he was writing no matter how hard I tried to see. I looked over at the person sitting next to me who gave me a strange look and turned their screen away from me.

“Is there a problem?” The professor bellowed dusting the chalk from his hands.

“I can’t see what you are writing,” I said “and it seems like important information for our next test so I wanted to take notes.”

“Very observant of you comrade,” the professor said “allow me to adjust and give you time to write it down.” The professor moved aside and on the chalkboard was written the words Life is sacred in big letters. The professor pounded loudly on the desk and I woke up. Lucas was pounding on my door.

“Hurry up comrade, we’re going to be late.” Lucas said through the door.

“I’m coming,” I said as I rolled out of bed and rubbed my eyes. A dream it was all a dream. Dreams mean nothing. I breathed a sigh of relief. I still felt a strange guilty sensation in my guts as I quickly got dressed and went to the Center for Universal Social Justice and Equality in Free Speech. I grabbed a cup of Community Coffee and sat down at my desk. I started to do my work but kept thinking of yesterday. I was so absorbed with thought that I missed the officers from the Bureau of Anti-Fascist Affairs talking to Lucas and my boss. I did not notice as they walked over to me and asked me to go with them. It was not until I was following them that I started to realize what was going on.

“I am not a fascist,” I told them as I sat down in an interrogation room chair. The man that sat across from me opened a folder and started looking through some papers. He did this for several minutes. My mind raced. Did I do something wrong? Why do they want to talk to me? It has to be a mistake. Finally he closed the folder and looked up at me.

“You know this whole process goes a lot smoother if you just confess.” He said in conversational tone.

“What am I being charged with?” I asked worriedly.

“I think you know what crime you have committed. Just confess to everything you have done wrong and we can get on with it.” A pang of guilt ran through me. Did I do something wrong? Is that why I was feeling off yesterday after dealing with that fascist? Of course it is, that is why I feel guilty, I reasoned. Now if only I could figure out what I did and confess I will feel better and they will see it was nothing. “We know you are guilty,” he said as he took a piece of paper out and started writing on it. I racked my brain to try and come up with why I felt guilty but all I could see was that dead fascist. That could not be it, if he did not want to be killed he should not have been spewing his hate speech.

The interrogator kept writing and I kept going over my day. Someone came in and whispered something in his ear and a smile spread across his face as he looked over to me. He nodded to the man, who turned and left, and started writing again. He stopped and set his pen down on the table between us, folded his hands into one another and leaned forward. “We know you are guilty, and I think you know it too. Have you not been feeling guilty?” My heart started to beat faster. I did feel guilty but how did he know that? I just stared at him in stunned silence. “It’s okay, if you don’t feel like talking now we can always talk tomorrow when you have cleared your head.” The interrogator stood up and knocked twice at the door. Two other Bureau officers came in and grabbed me. The led me out of the room and into the hall. I could see Lucas coming out of another room with a different Bureau officer. He saw me but refused to make eye contact with me.

“Lucas” I called but one of the guards punched me in the stomach and told me to keep quiet. Lucas just walked away and would not look as the two men dragged me out through the office I had worked at for 5 years. No one looked at me, no one said anything. I had seen this several times before, I had even participated in the same way everyone was right now. But that was for people who had committed a crime, surely there was some mistake. I have not committed a crime, unless feeling guilty was a crime. I was put in the back of a van and taken to the Rehabilitation and Anti-Biased Training Facility. Once there I was put into a room that was just big enough for me to stand in. It was so small I could not sit or even kneel down. In the room, just out of reach was a bright light bulb that made the room uncomfortably hot and bright.

The first hour seemed to take forever but it was the second hour where my throat started to get dry and my legs started to hurt. I tried shifting my weight around but that only offered temporary relief. It was near the end of the second hour, or at least I think it was the second hour that someone opened my cell door and gave me a small paper cup with water in it. I lifted it to my lips but spit it out as soon as I tasted the salt in the water.

“There is salt in this water,” I said looking at the stony faced guard. “There must have been some sort of mix up.”

“Drink it or we’ll make you drink it.” The guard said with ease, as if he had said it before.

“It has salt in it, I can’t drink this.” The guard smiled and took the cup away from me and shut the door. He returned shortly with two other guards who grabbed me and held me still. I tried to struggle but with no luck. The third guard held a tube in one hand that was connected to a bottle in the other hand. He forced the tube into my mouth and squeezed the bottle. Salt water hit the back of my throat with such force that I started to choke. After he repeated this three times they put me back into my cell and closed the door. My mouth was dry and the heat of the bulb did not help. Soon my mouth became painful. Every so often someone would bang on the door, clearly they did not want anyone to sleep. I do not know how long I was in there before the guards came and collected me but each minute felt like a life time.

The entire time, I kept thinking, there must have been some mistake, I did nothing wrong. I killed a fascist and the community thanked me for protecting them. I did everything right. So why was I here? Why were they torturing me as if I was some sort of fascist? The guards took me to a different interrogation room. It felt so cold in this room that I started to shiver. The interrogator came in with two bottles of water and a piece of paper. He opened the first bottle and took a long drink. Oh how good that water looked. He ended his drink with a satisfying “Ah”. He slid the piece of paper across the table in front of me and picked up the second bottle of water.

“I bet you are thirsty,” he said opening the second bottle and setting it on the table, just out of my reach. “All you have to do is sign this confession and you can have all the water you want.” Confession, I thought, I did not confess to anything. But that water looked good and I really wanted this all to be over. I looked at the paper in front of me and started to read it.

“Don’t worry about reading it” the man said holding his own water bottle near his lips “it is all true and we have the evidence to back it up. If you just sign it, I can say you cooperated when you are sentenced and recommend a lighter punishment.” I eyed his suspiciously and shook my head. I started to read some of it. The list of charges included fascist sympathizer, conspiracy to spread hate speech, conspiring with fascists, and attempted spread of alternative facts. I was not guilty of any of these things.

“I can’t sign this.” I croaked, I tried to swallow but had no saliva left. “I have not done any of these things.”

“Haven’t you” the interrogator asked. “That is not what your friend Lucas said. He told us the whole story. Are you saying he is a liar? If he is we’ll have to arrest him too.”

“Lucas would never had said that because it is not true.” I said in a crackling voice.

“I guess you have not had enough time to think,” he replied as he grabbed the bottle of water on the table. “We can help you think if that is what you want, or you can confess and save yourself and your friend some trouble.”

I felt defeated. What should I do? I could not confess to something I did not do. But I did feel guilty. Maybe I did do something that deserved punishment. I picked up the pen and signed the paper. The man set the bottle of water down next to me grabbed the paper and left the room. Oh, how good that water tasted. My throat relaxed and my mind became clearer. Soon I realized what I had done. I confessed to crimes I did not committed. At least I confessed, I reasoned, so hopefully the rest of the process will go smoothly and I can get back to normal. The two guards moved me to a larger cell with a mattress. I remained in here for two weeks before they came for me again.

“Is it time for my sentencing?” I asked as the guards led me down the corridor.

“Sentencing has been passed already” One of the guards said. “The Social Justice Tribunal has already handed down the punishment.”

“Punishment?” I said, horror filling my body. “But, but I cooperated, don’t I get a say?”

“Shut your mouth you fascist scum.” The other guard said as they led me out into the court yard. Three men were standing over someone laying on the ground. As I was led closer I realized the person on the ground was dead. My gut revolted again but I resisted the urge to have the contents of my stomach rise up. As I was brought up next to the three men I could see the face of the body on the ground. It was Lucas. My heart fell and I started to struggle. The men tightened their grip on me.

“I’m not guilty” I cried as they forced me down on my knees. One of the three men read my charges off. I started to cry, why was this happening to me? I just felt guilty for killing a fascist. Suddenly it clicked. I felt guilty for killing someone. That was it! In that moment I did sympathize with the man I had murdered as I struggled against my bonds. My mind had betrayed the revolution and I had internalized fascism. I had tried to spread my fascism to Lucas even though I did not realize it. Now he was dead. I felt the gun press against the back of my head and it was then that the last thought to occur to me was, what if the revolution was wrong?

Morality Outbreak Part 1

            I stood there for a second looking at the man crumpled on the ground. I almost dropped the gun but one of my comrades grabbed my arm and propped me up. Another comrade was addressing the crowd but the words washed away in my ears, still ringing from the gun shot. Next I felt as if I was floating along, not knowing where I was going but being supported by my comrade. After we got out of sight I felt my gut churn.

            “Good job, comrade” Lucas said as he pulled down his black and red mask. “You sure showed that fascist, now the rest of them will think twice before trying to spew their hate speech.” Lucas looked at me with excited eyes. I stood a bit taller but as soon as I pulled down my black and red mask to say thanks my guts revolted and rose up. All across the sidewalk my vomit splattered with a thick plop. Why did I throw up? A sense of dread crept into my empty belly and started to spread throughout my whole body. The image of the man laying at my feet blood pooling around him forced itself to the front of my mind. My knees felt weak and I started to breathe heavily.

            “You okay comrade?” Lucas said bending over to look at my face. I nodded and put my hand on his shoulder to steady myself.

            “Yes” I said in a shaky voice, the taste of vomit still lingering on my tongue. My insides churned again and I put my hand over my mouth. Lucas helped me sit down against the wall and told me to take deep steady breaths. I followed his instructions and started to feel better. I could not understand what happened to me, why did I feel sick all of a sudden? I was fine before on the way to the fascist’s house. The image blood pouring out of the bullet hole came to mind and I felt my guts twist and turn again. Since they were empty it was just a painful tightening of the abs and a burning sensation in my throat as bile came up this time.

            Was I feeling bad because I had killed that fascist? No, it could not be that, I did a good thing by stopping his hate speech from harming others. I was protecting the oppressed people in the community. People watched in disbelief that a fascist had been hiding in their community as we pulled him out of the home. Some even wept tears of joy as we made him kneel down on the street and I stepped up with the gun. The sound of the gun and the smell of the gunpowder flooded my mind again. My stomach turned over again but it quickly passed. I looked up at Lucas and he offered me his hand. I took it and pulled myself to my feet.

            “We better head back, I hear the community wants to thank you for protecting them.” Lucas said with a smile. “I am proud of you comrade.” I smiled back at him and stood straight again, brushed myself off and put our masks back on. We walked back to the crowd and I kept my eyes fixed straight ahead. As we got closer I could make out the still body on the pavement out of the corner of my eye. Fascist scum got what he deserved I told myself. A sense of dread made my feet tingle and slowly worked its way up to my stomach. I pushed the feeling down, looked straight ahead and kept walking.

            The community had gathered and the comrade who was addressing them had them file pass. The adults said thank you though I could see anger in their eyes. It was understandable, I would be angry too if I knew I was living next to a fascist all this time and did not know it. Some of the children clung to their mothers.

            “No need to be afraid kids,” I said after clearing my throat, “The fascist cannot harm you anymore.” One of the kids turned, looked at the dead fascist, and then started crying. I knelt down as he got closer and reached out to give him a hug and a comforting word, but when I stretched out my arms he recoiled from me, a look of fear and anger on his little face.

            “Mind your manners,” his father said to the boy and looked at me. He reached out his hand to me and shook my hand. “Thank you for protecting us from these fascists.” His words sounded practiced but I guess he was a bit nervous and shaken up. The damage these fascists can do with their hate speech is astounding.

            “You’re welcome,” I said “Just trying to keep things safe for everyone.” The man moved on and my comrades and I got back into the van. On the drive back I kept playing the scene over and over in my head. My guts still twisted every time I remembered that body. I did the right thing, I mean the community thanked me for it. I replayed the image of the people passing by. Those poor kids where so scared, at least now they will be able to sleep safely tonight. It was then that the thought assaulted me, were they afraid of me? I replayed each kid in my mind. Did they clutch their mother harder when they got to me? The kid that pulled away from me, was he afraid of the fascist or of me? He couldn’t be afraid of me I reasoned, after all I liberated him from the hate spewing fascist in his community. He was probably just struck by meeting an actual Antifa soldier.

            We arrived at the Center for Universal Social Justice and Equality in Free Speech. After we gave our report Lucas and I made our way to the Glorious Equality Apartments to rest for the night. Lucas handed me a bottle of Engels Ale as I sat down on the couch. My body still felt shaky as I took a large swallow from the bottle. I lowered my head to my chest and took in several deep breaths.

            “Big day, huh?” Lucas said sitting down next to me. I looked over at him as he put his feet up on the coffee table and took a pull from his bottle. “It was exciting to root out that fascist and protect the community. It gives you a sense of purpose to help others don’t you think?” Lucas waited for me to reply but I could hardly hear him. I could feel the gun in my hand as I pointed it at the back of that fascists head. I could see the slight movement as he struggled a bit against the zip ties around his wrists. I could feel the trigger press against my finger as I pulled it back. Suddenly the fascist fell over and laid on the pavement, unnaturally still, never to spew his hate speech ever again. Lucas kept talking “The people were so thankful, I cannot wait till I bag my first fascist.” Excitement crept through Lucas’s voice as he talked about it and something revolted inside me again.

            “Shut up!” I yelled startling Lucas and myself as well. Lucas just looked at me in surprise.

            “What’s wrong with you man? You’ve been different today.” Lucas said not taking his eyes off of me.

            “I don’t know” I said my thoughts spilling out before I could properly form them. “Ever since we rescued those people from that fascist today things have felt strange.” I stopped for a moment to collect myself and took a drink. “It felt, I don’t know, sort of wrong, I guess.” Lucas looked at me stunned. I could not bring myself to look directly at him. I felt shame spread across my skin under his gaze. “I mean, I know what we did was right, and it had to be done,” I back peddled but I could not help be keep going “but I don’t know, maybe killing that guy was wrong.”

            “FASCIST,” Lucas said still staring hard at me, “You mean killing that FASCIST was wrong?”

            “Yes fascist,” I said and drank the rest of my Engels Ale and set the bottle on the table. “I know it was right but I just have a feeling like I did something wrong.”

            “You just had a big day” Lucas said looking away from me and taking a drink. “Maybe you forgot something in your report. It happens but you can fix it when we go back to work tomorrow.”

            “That must be it,” I smiled at Lucas, he was a good friend and comrade “Thank you.” I stood up and started to head to my bed room.

            “No problem, comrade” Lucas said “Oh one last thing comrade, this conversation stays between us okay?” The serious tone of his voice caused me to stop. I nodded and walked to my room and shut the door. I laid down on the bed and kicked my shoes off. My body relaxed as my head hit the pillow.

Immigrants vs. Illegal Immigrants

            This is another example of why words matter. Today you see a lot of rallies across America (maybe, maybe not, seems like everyone is getting tired of this stuff) for immigrants and immigrant rights. If you accept this idea then you are starting the debate off by giving away the high ground.

            First the problem comes with the use of the word immigrant. What the people at the rallies really mean by the word immigrant is illegal immigrant. You must never just let this go, it is being done on purpose and at your expense. They are trying to set you up to look like the bad guy and are being very subtle about it. So if you find yourself in a conversation about this then you must make a clear distinction between illegal immigrant and an immigrant. Sometime this will take all the bluster out of whoever is trying to shame you on being a racist or whatever but if they continue to push you need to push back. Most people have no problem with legal immigration. Sure there are a few people out there who don’t like all immigrants but lucky for us they are not in positions of power and are few and far between.

            Secondly they are saying the want immigrant rights. Other than holding the office of the presidency there are few rights that immigrants don’t have. If you come here legally and become a US citizen that you have all the rights of someone born in this country. People will try to use the word ‘rights’ as a way to make immigrants seem oppressed. They will tell you that immigrants cannot get a driver’s license and cannot vote as well as cannot get housing and probably try to tell you they are being killed for no other reason than they are immigrants. If only they could have rights and laws we could end the immigrant holocaust. Okay that is a little extreme but they will try a lot of things to make you look like the bad guy. Stand firm and do not let them hit you with the word rights. Immigrants who are legal US citizens have all the same rights as native US citizens. Again they are talking about illegal immigrants, do not give them the high ground.

            Instead you need to take the high ground right away. A statement like, “Immigrants are fine as long as they come legally and want to share in our values and way of life.” This will establish your point of view as well as say you don’t mind immigration but everyone needs to follow the law. Remember to state this calmly and clearly, it does not help to get overly excited or angry. You want the person you are debating to look like the crazy person, so do not get too emotional. It is easy to stay calm for a while and the people that are at these rallies tend to be very emotional people so just hold out and they will break. You are an individual with your own opinions but you are not alone in this. If someone engages you calmly, feel free to engage in debate with them. You’ll usually find that these people want the laws on immigration made easier and that you’ll have a lot in common with them.

            Remember, words matter, so select yours wisely. Do not let others set the narrative or try to confuse the problem by purposely using the wrong words to make you out to be the bad guy. Do not shy away from the word rights and challenge people on the specifics. Stay calm and let the people at these rallies meltdown while you look like a sane rational person. Immigrants are very different from illegal immigrants so do not be bullied by people trying to make you out to be someone you are not just to push their own agenda. Bravely stand up, speak freely, and stay strong.