Silent spring and the summer without an end

I roll my eyes at the weather app on my phone. The mercury rises above 110 degrees for the fiftieth day this year, obliterating the previous record and taunting Arizonans like some rival home-run king smacking grand slams at will. I press my palm to my face to hide my frustration, only to feel a sweaty film forming across my brow.

Below my third floor perch, an apparition walks its equally ghostly dog. With its face concealed by a mesquite tree, the creature could be man or woman, old or young. I listen for a bark, a howl, even the sounds of children playing, but all I hear is the gentle whir of the ceiling fan and the jet-like sweeps of traffic on Southern Avenue.

Anxious for the weekend, I close the lid on my work computer and migrate downstairs to escape my home office. What used to be my earthly paradise, my escape from it all, has become a prison.

I plop into the leather couch. Our cat, Jane, comes up to nudge me. She might be the only creature in this world glad that I have been home almost 24 hours a day since March. I begin my ritual scroll through shows on Amazon Prime and Hulu. Never before have humans had so much instant access to entertainment, and yet, never before have we been so bored by it all.

The summer of hobbies and low-interest financing

In March, I told a friend Amazon, GrubHub, and Netflix would be our saviors during this pandemic. One glance at my credit card statements proves my prediction.

I smile at my new Fender Stratocaster. The cobra blue electric guitar cost more than anything I own, save for my house and my car, but throughout this ordeal, it has been my saving grace, my one pride and joy. Plus, nothing will motivate one to practice like spending two grand on an instrument.

Truthfully, though every day is a never-ending nightmare for someone as extroverted as myself, COVID-19 has been relatively kind to me. Despite being in the high risk group, I have not been sick. Traffic to and from my frequent medical appointments has been non-existent. I haven’t been laid off, and the few weeks in April my team spent on part-time were a welcome relief from the 50-hour work weeks.

I shave three-hundred dollars from our mortgage payment by taking advantage of low-interest rates to refinance our condo. And I happily obliged car dealers desperate for customers by trading in my expiring lease for an electric-blue Hyundai Elantra Sport.

Perhaps one day I will even look back and see this year as a blessing. But right now, despite those positives, as it has for most of us, 2020 has stretched the limits of my sanity.

Endless summer stretches the limits of my sanity

What started as a spring so silent that Rachel Carson’s classic now reads like the musings of a whiny birdwatcher has turned into an Orwellian summer without an end. Words like social, connotating closeness, have been combined with veritable antonyms like distance, implying far away. Activists obsessed with skin color are being called “anti-racists.”

Masks that may or may not work, depending on which study you cite, are required to go literally anywhere. Police are being asked to shame or imprison those who refuse to comply. Schools all over the country have been canceled, delayed, or gone virtual.

Like an emperor at gladiatorial games, Arizona’s executive branch holds the fate of local restaurants, bars, and gyms in its hands. Thumbs up, you may re-open. Thumbs down, brace yourself for the sun-heated steel of the governor’s sword on your neck.

Our other cat, Bert, curls reposed at my feet. Like most animals, he lives for routine: breakfast the minute one of us rises from our bed, nap most of the afternoon, dinner shortly after he wakes. Lather, rinse, repeat. Same shit, different day. Groundhog Day may be our nightmare, but it is his ideal.

Like a schoolchild awaiting news from Punxsutawney Phil, I cling to the weather app and local news websites. Did Arizona’s health czarina see her shadow today? Will she let my gym reopen? Will we have six more weeks of this infernal summer?

Sales tax, the Way-not-fair ruling, and the last day of duty-free online shopping in Arizona

Today marks the last day in Arizona one can buy and sell goods online without paying racketeering fees—also known as taxes—to the state government.

What at first was plunder assumed the softer name of revenue.

– Thomas Paine, The Rights of Man

Since the birth of mail order catalogs, people in the United States have been free to exchange value for value across cities and states without having to pay their local taxmen. In 1967, in National Bellas Hess v. Department of Revenue of Illinois, the U.S. Supreme Court affirmed this fact: Out-of-state resellers were not required to collect sales tax unless they had some physical contact with the state.

The Court revisited the issue in Quill Corp. v. North Dakota. In one of their earliest attempts to understand the internet, they upheld the Bellas ruling: Online purchases could only be taxed if bought from a vendor with a physical presence in the state.

This has been the understanding for decades. And this is why we all pay sales taxes on Amazon but not at New Egg or eBay: Amazon’s network of distribution centers and delivery trucks makes them one of the few online retailers with a physical presence in almost every state.

In 2018, using thinking that disregards 500 years of legal theory—look up stare decisis—the Supreme Court overturned 50 years of precedent: States not only can require resellers to collect taxes, they can also tax marketplace facilitators—like eBay, Etsy, and Reverb.

The Court majority opined in South Dakota v. Wayfair that “the Internet’s prevalence and power have changed the dynamics of the national economy.” Justice Anthony Kennedy then accused anyone who doesn’t pay taxes on their online purchases of tax evasion.

Predictably, within six months of the ruling, 31 states passed laws requiring online buyers to pay taxes and sellers to collect them. Arizona not-so-politely gave us an extra nine months of duty-free online shopping. That ends tomorrow.

State and local governments are pissed off and have been since the first day Amazon sold a book. According to the Court, in 2017 alone, they failed to confiscate another $13.7 billion in tax revenue—as though they have some natural right to yet another 8.6% of each person’s money, as though they add actual value to our purchases, as though human life itself would cease without them.

Every tax we pay is a slap in the face of our very existence.

Income taxes remind us we owe the government a portion of our labor. Little difference exists between the American toiling away until April 16—the day each year she finally starts working for herself—and the serf paying part of his crop to a feudal lord.

Little difference exists between the American toiling away and the serf paying part of his crop to a feudal lord.

Property taxes remind us we do not truly own our own homes. And worse, we cannot be trusted to decide where and how our—and other people’s—children should be schooled.

Sin taxes—those levied on gambling, tobacco, alcohol, marijuana, super-sized sodas, and fatty foods—remind us our bodies do not truly belong to us. We are too stupid and irresponsible to make own our choices.

Sales taxes remind us we cannot be trusted to do business with each other without the benevolent hand of government watching our every move. Like the mafia demanding payment for services we never asked them to provide, state governments actually believe we owe them something for exchanging values with other human beings on their turf.

Arizona is so bold they do not even try to hide this attitude: They call their sales taxes “transaction privilege taxes,” and describe them as “a tax on the vendor for the privilege of doing business in the state.”

When are we, as a species, going to realize that American states, like all governments, extort money from the very people they purport to protect, then convince those people its for their own good? Are they supposed to be grateful? Are they supposed to believe, to paraphrase former Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes, taxes are the price they pay for civilization? Are we?

Anything worth doing or owning in life can and should be done or bought by choice. Shoving a gun in one’s face and demanding their money in exchange for schools, prisons, zoos, buses, roads, and professional sports stadiums is not civilization; it’s theft.

Book Review: Nothing is True and Everything is Possible by Peter Pomerantsev

In Nothing Is True and Everything Is Possible, Peter Pomerantsev pulls back the curtain on twenty-first-century Russia, revealing the world’s biggest country may also be its most deluded and its most corrupt.

He shows readers a Russia that has “seen so many worlds flick through in such blistering progression—from communism to perestroika to shock therapy to penury to oligarchy to mafia state to mega-rich,” and left its inhabitants with “the sense that life is just one glittering masquerade, where every role and any position or belief is mutable.”

Peter Pomerantsev in Nothing Is Real and Everything Is Possible beautifully describes for readers Russia's transformation from a post-Soviet republic searching for an identity to a postmodern mafia state.
Peter Pomerantsev in Nothing Is Real and Everything Is Possible beautifully describes for readers Russia’s transformation from a post-Soviet republic searching for an identity to a postmodern mafia state.

Airing Russia’s Dirty Laundry

Pomerantsev is a former Russian television producer for TNT. There, he helped kickoff shows ranging from Russian remakes of Married with Children to a never-aired miniseries on a mafia-run Siberian town written and directed by a gangster. The latter mocked Russia’s mafia politics, where leaders are made to look like gangsters, unlike Western politicians, who “act like upstanding citizens,” and Hollywood “is obsessed with the underworld.”

His exploration of Russia’s underworld begins with stories of strippers and gold diggers. They come to Moscow from Siberian mining villages and St. Petersburg slums to compete with Russia’s endless supply of world-renowned beauties for a chance at a better life, one sponsored by Moscow’s newly minted sugar daddies. These “Forbeses”—so called because of their place on the Forbes list—refer to the girls as tiolki, or cattle.

The fatherless tiolki start at eighteen and hone their craft at a Gold Diggers Academy run by a 40-year-old woman with an MBA. After securing a sponsor, in exchange for exclusive sexual rights with a mega-rich man, they get an apartment, a car, a $4,000 month allowance, and twice yearly vacations in Turkey or Egypt. Once their sugar daddies grow bored, the girls land on the streets without a penny to their name. By the time the girls turn twenty-two, most Forbeses no longer want them.

Then, there’s Dinara, a young Muslim woman who fled Dagestan—a republic in the North Caucasus, near Chechnya—to study in Moscow. She wanted to escape the influence of the Wahhabi preachers from Saudi Arabia. They took over her hometown and convinced local girls to become suicide bombers. Unable to find a good job after failing her university entrance exams, Dinara turned to prostitution. She had not touched her Koran since she entered the world’s oldest profession, afraid Allah would never forgive her.

Through his research and his front-row seat to the manufacture and consumption of Russian entertainment, Pomerantsev realizes the game the Kremlin is playing. More totalitarian regimes like the Soviet Union closely controlled their propaganda, forbade criticism, and failed to laugh at humor. Putin’s New Russia has transformed Juvenal’s bread and circuses from a lament into an art form. “The new Kremlin actively encourages people to have a laugh at its expense.”

Deconstructing the Kremlin Matrix

Pomerantsev also produced the story of thirty-something executive Yana Yakovleva. She was arrested by Russia’s drug enforcement agency (FDCS) for selling the chemical cleaning agent diethyl ether. Despite having a license for its importation and sale, FDCS officials charged her with distributing illegal narcotics.

“Black is white and white is black. There is no reality. Whatever they say is reality,” Pomerantsev writes.

Yakovleva then spent seven months in jail, awaiting trial, trying to understand why she was arrested for selling something she had been legally selling for years.

As Pomerantsev explains, Yakovleva was caught in a Machiavellian political trap set by former KGB officer and now head of the FDCS, Viktor Cherkesov, to break the chemical and pharmaceutical industries. He was upset Putin did not make him head of the FSB and wanted to prove his rival, FSB head Nikolai Patrushev, was a weak link.

Yakovleva ignored multiple attorneys’ advice to pay a million-dollar bribe, refusing to believe she had done anything wrong. She eventually won her trial and now leads campaigns against corruption and bribery.

In Russia, black is white and white is black. Reality is whatever those in power say is reality.

Pomerantsev admires her strength and perseverance but fears she is the exception, not the rule. After all, 99 percent of defendants are found guilty at Russian trials. And when he airs the story on Ostankino, Pomerantsev is forced to cut “the high-level political stuff,” including Putin, Cherkesov, and Patrushev, basically shielding the truth from Russian eyes.

Delirium: Any Means to Escape

Kazakh-Russian supermodel Ruslana Korshunova made world headlines when she died in June 2008 after falling from the ninth-floor balcony of her Manhattan apartment. Authorities called it a suicide, but her mother refused to believe as much. Pomerantsev theorizes her death was related to her involvement in the Rose of the World.

Russian Supermodel Ruslana Korshunova

Supermodel Ruslana Korshunova was nicknamed the Russian Rapunzel for her flowing blonde hair and spellbinding eyes. Pomerantsev describes them as “large and wolf blue, the light of her Siberian ancestry.” She made world headlines when she died in June 2008 after falling from the ninth-floor balcony of her Manhattan apartment.

Modeled after Lifespring—whose methods caused mental damage in their participants and in 1980 went bankrupt after being sued—Rose of the World has been denounced as a cult and encourages participants to share their worst experiences and recall repressed memories. After three months of training sessions, Korshunova left Rose of the World. A few months later, she was found dead.

Ukrainian model Anastasia Drozdova also attended the training sessions with Korshunova. She killed herself under similar circumstances in 2009.

Pomerantsev himself investigated Korshunova’s death. He includes it—along with the other tragedies about strippers, gold diggers, and prostitution—in his book to illustrate how desperate Russians are to escape, to find life and meaning in a nation without either.

“Look at these girl, they’re all lost,” he quotes former model and psychologist Elena Obukhova.

Meet the Russians

Pomerantsev closes with the story of a $5.8 billion lawsuit over ownership of an oil company between Russian oligarchs Boris “Godfather of the Kremlin” Berezovsky and Roman Abramovich.

The suit was less about money and more about power. After all, Berezovsky took credit on his own Facebook page “for bringing the president to power…for destroying freedom and speech and democratic values.” He understood how television could bring men to power. He created the “fabricated documentary.” He invented barely credible scandals to topple Vladimir Putin’s opponents. He “invented the fake political parties, television puppet constructs, shells without any policy whose point was to prop up the president.”

He became a victim of the very people he elevated, the very entities he created. His own channel, Ostankino, “cast him as an eternal bogeyman…blaming him for everything from sponsoring terrorism to political assassinations.” He created the Russian system and molded [Putin] before being exiled by his own creation.”

Berezovsky’s confession was lost on the English judge presiding over the suit, who found the progenitor of modern Russia “an unimpressive and inherently unreliable witness,” who, like so many Russians, regards “truth as a transitory, flexible concept…to be molded to suit his current purposes.”

The trial cost Berezovksy everything. Legal fees alone totaled $100 million. Six months later and rumored to be destitute, he sold an Andy Warhol silk-screen print of Red Lenin for $202,000. Three days after that, following what has become a common theme in the country with the world’s third-highest suicide rate (former Soviet states Lithuania, Kazakhstan, Belarus, Ukraine, and Latvia also top the list), Berezovsky hung himself in the bathroom of his ex-wife’s Ascot mansion.

Though the master is dead, his teachings live on. “Make, steal, siphon your money off in Russia. Stash it in New York, Paris, Geneva, and especially London.” Berezovsky’s apprentices took his lessons to heart.

Abramovich is Russia’s eleventh richest person, Israel’s first, and between 2000 and 2008 served as governor of Chukotka, the Russian province opposite Alaska on the Bering Sea.

Vladimir Putin rose from obscurity to the presidency in a few short months. He then became prime minister, then president again. As the head of state, he has replaced Berezovksy as Russia’s godfather.

Godfather of Russia

Putin purged Russia of its Boris Yeltsin-era oligarchs, those men who got rich helping Russia transition from a command to a market economy. Those remaining had brokered deals with Putin and his inner circle, trading political allegiance for economic favors.

At the same time, the mafia dons running protection rackets in towns and cities across Russia have been replaced by equally violent, immoral friends of Putin.

Russian defector and former FSB officer Alexander Litvinenko accused the FSB of staging apartment bombings and other terrorist attacks to bring Putin to power. He accused Putin himself of ordering the murder of journalist Anna Politkovskaya. Within a month of the accusations, Litvinenko was hospitalized and died from poisoning by radioactive polonium. Investigators found he was murdered by the FSB. His death was likely approved, if not ordered by Putin.

Under Putin, Russia backed a rights-violating government in Syria and invaded Ukraine. His regime granted asylum to American political dissident qua traitor Edward Snowden. Many say Putin’s cronies meddled in the 2016 election, placing a pro-Putin president in the White House.

In effect, Putin is the master of Russia’s own puppet show, giving its citizens just enough cord to let them think, act, and speak as they want without ever questioning what’s going on behind the curtain. He lets the press mock his government, his tough-guy public image, his nation and its culture, provided they only tell half the truth. Like some Orwellian propagandist, Putin and his Kremlin allies “switch messages at will,” allying themselves with European right-wing nationalists to ridicule the EU, with the far left to condemn US hegemony. He is whoever Russia needs him to be.

Russia Has Become a Mafia State

Anarchists often compare the state to a mafia, a crime syndicate that demands your money in exchange for your protection and your life. For this, we are laughed at; our observations are dismissed as the jaded perspectives of puerile, tinfoil-wearing psychopaths struggling with modernity.

Yet twenty-first-century Russia, Litvinenko observed, is a mafia state. Pomerantsev agrees, painting a surreal image of a land where oligarchs and dons have filled the post-Soviet political void, where postmodernism has become the unofficial state religion: Truth is transitory and mutable; it is whatever those in power say it is. Like those woken from the Matrix, nothing is true and everything is possible.

Editor’s Note: This is my first review for the new Anarchist’s Bookshelf series. I read author’s against authority you don’t have to (but you can if you want).

Internet censorship: Getting Facebook to do what the government cannot

Under the auspices of truth, harmony, and justice, in my novel, When Love Speaks, the government threatens to shut down any publisher or broadcaster who will not censor their own for printing or airing anti-establishment rhetoric. If this sounds familiar, it’s because, as Glen Greenwald tells us, that’s exactly what the Israeli and US governments are doing to Facebook.

US senators call for laws that would ruin the internet

Irish journalist Danielle Ryan also reports US Senator Chris Murphy tweeted that hate-speech instigators like Alex Jones use sites like Facebook to “tear our nation apart.” He called on tech companies to “do more” than take down controversial websites, adding that democracy’s very survival depends on privately led censorship.

Ryan warns us Alex Jones may be among the first, but he won’t be the last. His ban is about normalizing internet censorship and controlling truth.

A leaked memo drafted by US Senator Mark Warner, Ryan adds, proposes regulating social media. Warner wants to protect consumers by forcing Facebook, Google, Twitter, Amazon, Apple, and others to verify identities and locations of accounts, to do more to determine which accounts are “inauthentic,” and to “label” bot accounts.

Virginia Democratic Senator Mark Warner wants to make social media platforms legally and financially responsible for what their users say and do.

Worse, in a proposal only a nonpracticing Harvard lawyer could devise, he wants to make social media platforms liable for state-law torts (defamation, false light, public disclosure of private facts). Under Warner’s proposed law, if Alex Jones libels Hillary Clinton in a YouTube video, then Clinton could sue YouTube and its parent company, Alphabet, for damages.

Such a law would ruin the internet. It would make platforms and content providers legally and financially responsible for anything anyone says or does using their services. Courts would be clogged with disgruntled corporations suing YouTube for negative product reviews. Pissed-off parents would sue Facebook for high-school rumors. Politicians would sue Apple for dishonest podcasts. Every dollar these companies make would be spent litigating. Even if they won every case, those kinds of operating costs would finish YouTube and Facebook. Competing platforms would never stand a chance.

Using Facebook to Censor controversial content

Facebook and YouTube do not have to provide contemptible trolls like Alex Jones a platform. Tolerating free speech is not the same as the right to a microphone.

But one cannot help but wonder if the government is forcing Facebook to do its dirty work. How else does one explain Mark Zuckerberg’s change of heart?

On July 18, 2018, Facebook’s CEO defended allowing InfoWars and Holocaust deniers on his platform. He said remained committed to keeping Facebook an open platform.

“As abhorrent as some of this content can be,” Zuckerberg said in his July interview, “I do think that it gets down to this principle of giving people a voice.”

Barely a week later, Facebook banned InfoWars and Alex Jones. A company spokesperson told journalists that Jones and InfoWars violated their terms and conditions. In other words, Facebook banned both for hate speech—a term so baffling, convoluted, and presumptive that neither Zuckerberg nor the US Supreme Court can agree on its definition.

The First Amendment keeps the American government from censoring its citizens. But if Facebook won’t stand up for its own rights, how can we expect them to support ours? Has Zuckerberg become the establishment’s stooge?

Architecture, free speech, and the fight for the individual soul

When Love Speaks -- a novel by Tobin Spratte

A single week of news could do more to sell my books than a decade of marketing to family, friends, and anyone who will listen.

Click here to buy the Kindle version of When Loves Speaks. Click here to buy the printed version.

This week, a pair of Bostonian architects have come to the defense of brutalism while conspiracy theorist Alex Jones has been censored by Facebook, YouTube, and Apple on the grounds that he incites violence and hate. My first novel’s themes have come to life.

Alessandra Burley and the politics of architecture

When Love Speaks is a romance between an architect and an opinion columnist. The female protagonist, named Alessandra Burley, works to restore and rebuild century-old homes along Colorado’s Front Range. She loves architecture that glorifies the best of humanity and dislikes the abstract, inhuman appearance of modernism. She would agree with Donald Trump on one thing: Brutalist architecture is ugly.

The J. Edgar Hoover FBI Bulidng in Washington, DC, uses cold, post-World War II aesthetics to convince individuals their soul no longer belongs to themselves but to the state.
The FBI’s J. Edgar Hoover Building in Washington, DC, embodies the underlying ideological message behind brutalism: Your no longer belong to yourself. You are no more your own man (or woman).

Brutalism evolved in post-World War II Europe from forms created by the Swiss modernist Le Corbusier. Steel wasn’t widely available following Europe’s costliest war, so architects and engineers built structures from concrete. The movement, explains Mark Pasnik, is about an ethic rather than an aesthetic: Be honest about your materials, show them for what they are.

Thank you, Ellsworth Toohey.

The movement caught on in the 1960s and 1970s and represents what Alessandra Burley sees as the architectural antithesis of human decency and liberty: Function over form, matter over mind; the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.

Brutalism’s proponents hardly disagree. Pasnik and Chris Grimely state the movement “became synonymous with the modern international bureaucratic order” (it’s all over Washington, DC). They write:

“Concrete buildings recall a time when our country invested in the civic realm [that is, when government elites invested in themselves], when government could be a positive caretaker of its most vulnerable people [when communism was most popular], when the nation could sincerely express collective aspirations and openness through monumental structures [when people were easier to control by giving them bread and circuses].”

For men like Pasnik and Grimely—men who worship the state as though it were God and praise the J. Edgar Hoover FBI Building as though it were Rome’s colosseum or Chartres’s cathedral—these are good things. To them, the individual matters not in an age where her body, mind, and soul can be crushed by a single concrete block.

As another of my characters, Argentine architect Miguel Estrada Ramírez, tells Alessandra Burley, “All architecture is a reflection of politics. All buildings demonstrate ideological goals.”

Brutalism exists to convince you your soul is dead and remind you your opinion no longer matters. Its message is clear: Get in line for your bread and embrace your government-controlled future. (But first please fill out forms GSB-1071 and GSB-1074E.)

John Cartwright and the politics of free speech

John Cartwright, the columnist in my novel, is willing to die to defend the freedoms he holds dear. He finds himself in trouble after the government passes the Brandenburg Act, a law named for the US Supreme Court case which limits speech that incites imminent violence.

But unlike Alex Jones, John Cartwright is a moral man. He would never harass Sandy Hook families. He would never spread rumors about Hillary Clinton and a pizzeria-based child sex ring. He would never interview much less vote for Donald Trump. He harbors hate only toward those who would keep men and women from living and thinking as they choose—whether they call themselves Christian democrats, communitarian republicans, libertarian paternalists, progressive liberals, constitutional monarchists, neoconservatives, or communist revolutionaries. To Cartwright, these roses by any other name still reek of power and control.

In response to Jones, free-speechers on both the right and left have canceled their gold-card memberships. Neil Macdonald of CBC News calls “the doctrine of free speech flawed” and brands Jones as a bigoted liar who “deals in viscous stupidity.” His penultimate line reads: “Alex Jones’s horrifying incitement goes too far.” Anoa Changa at the Huffington Post absurdly and inaccurately claims free speech laws and media corporations protect only white, conservative speakers. She writes: “Jones is not the hill any free speech advocate should want to die on.”

If we do not defend the rights of society’s most deplorable to speak, then soon, none of us will be able to speak.

Alex Jones is a rotten piece of anti-intellectual neofascist filth. He no more loves liberty than Cartwright does control. But if we do not defend the rights of society’s most deplorable to speak out, then soon, none of us will be able to speak out.

Toward the end of my novel, one of Alessandra Burley’s friends asks her, “But you don’t think he [John Cartwright] goes too far?”

Jones’ ban from major social media platforms again raises that question. Do you believe in freedom for the thoughts you hate? Would you place society’s vilest men on the gallows for mere words?