“So how goes the historic independence talks?” I asked Senator Badiah Sinclair as I poured myself another glass of water. The restaurant had the best panned-fried marleye anywhere, captured fresh from Lake Ptolemy, and a good seafood meal always left me relaxed and satisfied.
From the look on Badi’s face I could tell my question was not unexpected but also not terribly welcome. I saw a mixture of frustration and annoyance and even a little embarrassment.
“I’m not sure anymore that these negotiations will bring us independence in our lifetime,” he said bitterly. “The Earthians are playing games with us. They like collecting our taxes enough to placate us with nice words about freedom, but they don’t actually trust us with the tools of freedom and self-determination.”
“That’s what all governments are about in the end, treading that fine line between making people feel free enough but not so free that they actually have control of their own lives,” I suggested.
“Oh, you’ll always need governments to achieve justice and keep the peace,” Badi said. “But Sirius 4 needs to have our own government. I’m beginning to despair we’ll get that without guns and lasers and bombs, though.”
I let him stew a moment to make sure I phrased my response precisely.
“Badi,” I said, “In the end a just society can only be built on voluntary interactions between peaceful people.”
I didn’t think the statement was particularly funny or ignorant, but Badiah snorted dismissively.
“Come on, Ray,” he said. “while we’re at it let’s purge humanity of greed and ambition and, I don’t know, pure evil. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Earthians conjure up some sort of phony incident as an excuse to kill someone, punish us for daring to think we could survive without them.”
“I think almost everyone’s primary motivation is to lead the best life possible and be left alone,” I insisted.
“Almost everyone, that’s right,” Badi said. “You’re always going to need a government for no other reason than to keep the greedy and the selfish from preying on the rest of us.”
“You might be right,” I said, “but wouldn’t it be fun to try? And who better to try it than the pioneer stock we have here on Sirius 4?”
He looked at me as if he had accidentally stumbled into a psychiatric ward occupied by the harmless but completely daft.
“Nice dream, professor,” he said. “But it’s not a theory that would get very far in the real world.”
“Assistant professor,” I said with a grin, and we moved on to less weighty subjects, unaware that we had just roughly outlined the next nine years of our lives.
Entry 49. Like hell
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Entry 47
I did not see Badi Sinclair on a regular basis for the next three to five years, but I was able to keep up through news reports and occasional conversations. He was one of several new senators swept in on an independence platform, and Governor Silas Fredersen was many things but not stupid. The governor met with the independent thinkers, called in some emissaries from Earth and gathered them all around a table. For the next three years there were offers and counteroffers, concessions and accommodations, progress and retreat, but nothing approaching independence. If anything the Earthians were more insistent than ever that Sirius 4 remain part of the Earth system, and the Sirians were more insistent than ever that our governmental systems ought to be as separate as our planetary systems.
I am a firm believer that violence accomplishes nothing, and so for a while I had to acknowledge that the violent episode that claimed Jim Simmons’ life had moved the negotiations forward. Of course, it was not long before we learned the Earthians had merely made a strategic retreat before upping the violence ante.
One chat I had with Badi over dinner a couple of years into the negotiations should have given me all I needed to foretell the future, but it is only clear by hindsight.
Entry 48. Dinner and premonitions
I am a firm believer that violence accomplishes nothing, and so for a while I had to acknowledge that the violent episode that claimed Jim Simmons’ life had moved the negotiations forward. Of course, it was not long before we learned the Earthians had merely made a strategic retreat before upping the violence ante.
One chat I had with Badi over dinner a couple of years into the negotiations should have given me all I needed to foretell the future, but it is only clear by hindsight.
Entry 48. Dinner and premonitions
Friday, July 27, 2012
Entry 46. Happily ever after
One positive about writing your memoir is that you get to tell the story, which means you survived all of the trials and tribulations you’ve been through – at least so far. One negative is that you still don’t know the ending – that’s the advantage of simply finishing your life and letting someone else write the story. Of course, the disadvantage to that is only I know what I was thinking and feeling when all this happened.
I’m not ready to tie all of my experiences in a bow and say, “This is what my life meant. This is how the story ends.” I can choose the moment when my memoir stops, but something significant will have happened the next day – or in the interim between when I finished writing and the editors proclaimed it fit to be published. That’s just life.
(One of the many advantages of this blog process is that you can see the memoir evolve and grow. One of the many disadvantages is that I’m not writing in linear fashion. Yesterday I was a boy emerging into young adulthood; today I am approaching late middle age and the end of the book; tomorrow, I will write of another point in my life or return to one of these moments.)
Will the people of Sirius 4 live happily “ever after”? Well, we are exploring a way of life that has not been attempted for millennia – a world without rulers. We have been given a blank pad of ruled paper, and we are writing the other way. In fact, we have deliberately chosen a path where I cannot speak for “us.” I am free; I love being free; I cannot say whether my neighbor is as pleased as I am about this way of life. That is the point, really – I think I’m onto something, but never take one guy’s word for anything. Check it out yourself. I do know it has been an interesting adventure that could fill another book.
What I think most of us agree is that people have a greater understanding of how to live in peace with one another, how to police ourselves, how to cooperate toward common goals, than we and our supposed masters ever realized.
If we can keep this commonwealth – for lack of a better word – then when the time comes for me to close my eyes one last time, I will feel that my life contributed something positive to the universe. And if people decide they are more comfortable choosing someone to make collective decisions for them, at the least we offered an example of a different way – I would say a better way – for future generations to contemplate.
I am able to sit on a porch overlooking the water and watch the sun set with the most beautiful woman I have ever known at my side. Across the water and around this world, no one is forcing other people to give or take their lives or property for a cause they don’t care about, believe in or understand. I am at peace with my neighbors, I have forgiven those who consider themselves my enemies, and I have no cause to bear ill will toward anyone. Utopia does not exist, but this will do nicely.
Entry 47
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Entry 45. Coffee and memories at the watershed
Badiah Sinclair did not, to my knowledge, have any additional serious affairs of the heart for some years after our rainy midnight journey. Not that he was saving that place in his soul for her any longer – he found what he considered a more appropriate use of his passion and energy.
Truth be known, I think his personal secretary, Marilyn Ferne, had a “thing” for him, and I believe they shared a deep friendship that went no farther than an occasional drink or meal after work. In that sense Badi was more ethical than his old childhood friend who consorted with one of his students – only one, ever, and only the one who attached herself to my heart for a lifetime, but I do recognize the dilemma I walked myself into.
No, Badi had no time for such diversions as finding the other half of his soul. He was too busy fighting for an independent and free Sirius 4 – or, as it turned out, at least an independent world.
The night before he left to take his place as the newly elected youngest senator ever to take a place in the Sirius 4 Senate – well, actually it was very early in the morning before he left – there was a soft knock on my door.
“Ray? You awake?” I heard from the other side. Recognizing Badi Sinclair’s voice, I got up and opened the door.
“I couldn’t sleep, either,” I admitted, stepping aside to wave him into the apartment. “Coffee or beer?”
“Coffee is probably more appropriate, I’m taking an oath of office in six hours,” he said. I tossed a couple clumps of ImagPro into the meal machine, pressed the buttons and pulled out a couple of cups of hazelnut-flavored comfort.
“What’s up, kid senator?” handing him his cup.
“I don’t know. I just couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather spend my last couple of hours as a normal human being with.”
I snorted. “You stopped being a normal human being when you tossed yourself into the great campaign meat grinder, Badi.”
“Good point,” he said. “But you know what I mean. We’re both finished being apprentices together, and now it’s time to go off and slay dragons in our separate forests. This is the watershed moment.”
“Guess it is,” I reflected. “Although I have some apprenticing to do yet at the university starting in a few weeks. But it’s not going to be the same from today onward, old friend.”
That set something off behind his eyes.
“This will be the same – this,” he said, touching his heart, pointing at me and himself, and waving between us to indicate the friendship.
One of us would usually say something light to make such a moment less intense. I couldn’t come up with any response along those lines, so I just let the silence linger.
Then we just talked about the previous few years of growing through adolescence together. Inevitably we touched on the battle of the cookies – he did not seem to recall that I thoroughly thrashed him in my first and only foray into raging violence – the long night drive, our encounters with the opposite sex (successful and hysterically unsuccessful), nostalgic arguments over favorite films and books and songs.
The meal machine kept us soothingly caffeinated and then provided a decent breakfast. And then there was a hint of dawn through the window, and Badi rose to become a senator officially.
“Good luck, sir,” I said, holding out my hand and feeling a bit of a lump in my throat.
He looked me in the eye and said, “I love you, Ray.” Foregoing the handshake, he threw his arms around me and hugged with all his might – and, I must say, he had more might than he did when I’d beaten him senseless over a few cookies.
“Me, too,” was all I managed to say in return. That damn lump. We nodded at each other, and he walked off to become a historic figure.
Entry 46. Happily ever after
Truth be known, I think his personal secretary, Marilyn Ferne, had a “thing” for him, and I believe they shared a deep friendship that went no farther than an occasional drink or meal after work. In that sense Badi was more ethical than his old childhood friend who consorted with one of his students – only one, ever, and only the one who attached herself to my heart for a lifetime, but I do recognize the dilemma I walked myself into.
No, Badi had no time for such diversions as finding the other half of his soul. He was too busy fighting for an independent and free Sirius 4 – or, as it turned out, at least an independent world.
The night before he left to take his place as the newly elected youngest senator ever to take a place in the Sirius 4 Senate – well, actually it was very early in the morning before he left – there was a soft knock on my door.
“Ray? You awake?” I heard from the other side. Recognizing Badi Sinclair’s voice, I got up and opened the door.
“I couldn’t sleep, either,” I admitted, stepping aside to wave him into the apartment. “Coffee or beer?”
“Coffee is probably more appropriate, I’m taking an oath of office in six hours,” he said. I tossed a couple clumps of ImagPro into the meal machine, pressed the buttons and pulled out a couple of cups of hazelnut-flavored comfort.
“What’s up, kid senator?” handing him his cup.
“I don’t know. I just couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather spend my last couple of hours as a normal human being with.”
I snorted. “You stopped being a normal human being when you tossed yourself into the great campaign meat grinder, Badi.”
“Good point,” he said. “But you know what I mean. We’re both finished being apprentices together, and now it’s time to go off and slay dragons in our separate forests. This is the watershed moment.”
“Guess it is,” I reflected. “Although I have some apprenticing to do yet at the university starting in a few weeks. But it’s not going to be the same from today onward, old friend.”
That set something off behind his eyes.
“This will be the same – this,” he said, touching his heart, pointing at me and himself, and waving between us to indicate the friendship.
One of us would usually say something light to make such a moment less intense. I couldn’t come up with any response along those lines, so I just let the silence linger.
Then we just talked about the previous few years of growing through adolescence together. Inevitably we touched on the battle of the cookies – he did not seem to recall that I thoroughly thrashed him in my first and only foray into raging violence – the long night drive, our encounters with the opposite sex (successful and hysterically unsuccessful), nostalgic arguments over favorite films and books and songs.
The meal machine kept us soothingly caffeinated and then provided a decent breakfast. And then there was a hint of dawn through the window, and Badi rose to become a senator officially.
“Good luck, sir,” I said, holding out my hand and feeling a bit of a lump in my throat.
He looked me in the eye and said, “I love you, Ray.” Foregoing the handshake, he threw his arms around me and hugged with all his might – and, I must say, he had more might than he did when I’d beaten him senseless over a few cookies.
“Me, too,” was all I managed to say in return. That damn lump. We nodded at each other, and he walked off to become a historic figure.
Entry 46. Happily ever after
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Entry 44. Closing time
I just remembered how our night of beer and philosophy ended – how could I have forgotten to write down how I won the argument?
As we stood to leave, Nate Maples – like all of us comfortably numb after parching and reparching our thirst for hours – balled his hands into a fist, grinned, said, “OK, Mr. Pacifist, give me an answer for this,” and lunged forward intending to give me a hard poke to the jaw.
I stepped into his attack, grabbed his arm and used his momentum to carry him over my body and onto the floor, where I held my foot to his throat.
“A belief in non-aggression does not rule out self-defense,” I said, also grinning, and, moving my foot aside when I saw he was still smiling himself, “I’m just not going to kill you.”
Did I say I won the argument? Not so, sadly; as I’ve always said, violence only begets violence, it does not change the beliefs of the victim. Nate Maples was one of the most fearsome warriors of what we now call the imaginary revolution, and he did not live to see Earth concede our right to exist free.
Entry 45. Coffee and memories at the watershed
As we stood to leave, Nate Maples – like all of us comfortably numb after parching and reparching our thirst for hours – balled his hands into a fist, grinned, said, “OK, Mr. Pacifist, give me an answer for this,” and lunged forward intending to give me a hard poke to the jaw.
I stepped into his attack, grabbed his arm and used his momentum to carry him over my body and onto the floor, where I held my foot to his throat.
“A belief in non-aggression does not rule out self-defense,” I said, also grinning, and, moving my foot aside when I saw he was still smiling himself, “I’m just not going to kill you.”
Did I say I won the argument? Not so, sadly; as I’ve always said, violence only begets violence, it does not change the beliefs of the victim. Nate Maples was one of the most fearsome warriors of what we now call the imaginary revolution, and he did not live to see Earth concede our right to exist free.
Entry 45. Coffee and memories at the watershed
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Entry 43. Long drive to the capital
He brooded in the passenger seat. I drove. It was a dark, stormy night. I’m not trying to be a bad novelist; that’s just the way the night was: Rain pelted the ground, lightning occasionally flashed orange across the sky, and the wind crashed against the side of my vehicle and challenged me to maintain control.
Badi Sinclair mostly just stared intently into the dark storm; when I glanced his way he seemed simply to be staring into space, blankly, but his occasional words betrayed a dark internal storm that matched his surroundings.
“Dammit, I am not too intense!” he cried at one point, intensely, and I could not help laughing. He looked at me angrily, realized what he had said and how, and finally cracked a smile himself. “All right, but I’m only intense about the things that deserve intensity.”
“I’ll give you that,” I said. “I do think she has a point, but you do care about important things.”
“And nobody is ever going to love her like I did,” he snarled.
“That's a good sign – you used past tense.”
“What?”
“‘Nobody is ever going to love her like I did,’” I repeated. “Did. Not do. First sign you’re getting over it.”
He looked dumbfounded. I think he even whispered the phrase to himself again: “Love her like I did.”
That is how Badiah Sinclair processes thoughts and emotions: He holds them hard, he is passionate as anyone I’ve ever known, but when it’s time to move on, he moves on, consequences be damned. He might have “won back” the girlfriend who walked away from his intensity that night; in fact, Badi was right – when she became a semi-celebrity by virtue of having dated Badiah Sinclair before he was THE Badiah Sinclair, she gave an interview where she said no one since Badi had ever made her feel as loved.
But she told him she couldn’t handle his intensity, and so he grieved with his best friend for a few hours and moved on. It’s a quality that made him a masterful politician – he was able to accept and absorb defeat (or victory, for that matter) quickly and move on to the next urgent matter.
The one thing, to his everlasting credit, where he refused to accept defeat was in the matter of independence for Sirius 4. He intensely believed in Sirius 4’s right to choose its own destiny. That made him our greatest hero and, eventually, one of our greatest villains.
We talked about women that night, about dreams and about nothing at all; I remember almost nothing about our conversation. In fact mostly I remembered driving in the rain while both of us were wrapped up in thought and not talking at all. What I remember most is that we arrived at the outskirts of the capital city before I realized how many miles we had traveled. It was the first time we were together in the city that would play a central role in both our lives.
But we didn’t stop; not that night. We turned around and went home.
Entry 44. Closing time
Badi Sinclair mostly just stared intently into the dark storm; when I glanced his way he seemed simply to be staring into space, blankly, but his occasional words betrayed a dark internal storm that matched his surroundings.
“Dammit, I am not too intense!” he cried at one point, intensely, and I could not help laughing. He looked at me angrily, realized what he had said and how, and finally cracked a smile himself. “All right, but I’m only intense about the things that deserve intensity.”
“I’ll give you that,” I said. “I do think she has a point, but you do care about important things.”
“And nobody is ever going to love her like I did,” he snarled.
“That's a good sign – you used past tense.”
“What?”
“‘Nobody is ever going to love her like I did,’” I repeated. “Did. Not do. First sign you’re getting over it.”
He looked dumbfounded. I think he even whispered the phrase to himself again: “Love her like I did.”
That is how Badiah Sinclair processes thoughts and emotions: He holds them hard, he is passionate as anyone I’ve ever known, but when it’s time to move on, he moves on, consequences be damned. He might have “won back” the girlfriend who walked away from his intensity that night; in fact, Badi was right – when she became a semi-celebrity by virtue of having dated Badiah Sinclair before he was THE Badiah Sinclair, she gave an interview where she said no one since Badi had ever made her feel as loved.
But she told him she couldn’t handle his intensity, and so he grieved with his best friend for a few hours and moved on. It’s a quality that made him a masterful politician – he was able to accept and absorb defeat (or victory, for that matter) quickly and move on to the next urgent matter.
The one thing, to his everlasting credit, where he refused to accept defeat was in the matter of independence for Sirius 4. He intensely believed in Sirius 4’s right to choose its own destiny. That made him our greatest hero and, eventually, one of our greatest villains.
We talked about women that night, about dreams and about nothing at all; I remember almost nothing about our conversation. In fact mostly I remembered driving in the rain while both of us were wrapped up in thought and not talking at all. What I remember most is that we arrived at the outskirts of the capital city before I realized how many miles we had traveled. It was the first time we were together in the city that would play a central role in both our lives.
But we didn’t stop; not that night. We turned around and went home.
Entry 44. Closing time
Monday, July 23, 2012
Entry 42
I have been avoiding setting down my memories and thoughts about the central conflict of this whole narrative – the disillusionment and break with the best friend I ever had, Badiah Sinclair. With some trepidation, I acknowledge it’s time to stat writing those chapters.
One of my greatest sources of pride was watching my old chum lead Sirius 4 to independence. It always gave me chills (and made me laugh a little) to see the boy, who a decade earlier had skipped stones across Lake Ptolemy and earnestly debated the secrets of game codes with me, fanning the flames of liberty across a planet.
And the greatest horror of my life was watching what became of that promise.
Now I have sat at my station for 20 minutes trying to write about that horror. And I find I’m still not ready.
Let me for one more day savor the good memories ...
Entry 43. Long drive to the capital
One of my greatest sources of pride was watching my old chum lead Sirius 4 to independence. It always gave me chills (and made me laugh a little) to see the boy, who a decade earlier had skipped stones across Lake Ptolemy and earnestly debated the secrets of game codes with me, fanning the flames of liberty across a planet.
And the greatest horror of my life was watching what became of that promise.
Now I have sat at my station for 20 minutes trying to write about that horror. And I find I’m still not ready.
Let me for one more day savor the good memories ...
Entry 43. Long drive to the capital
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Guest commentary
EDITORS' NOTE: We apologize for the lack of a new blog entry today. Even these years later, Ray Kaliber occasionally still suffers from some medical issues related to his wound, and as a result he was unable to prepare a blog entry for today. It is his hope to be well enough to continue his memoirs tomorrow. In the meantime here is an excerpt from a possible preface to the book that we have been preparing.
Hundreds of years ago American presidents named Garfield and McKinley were assassinated by violent men who called themselves anarchists and wanted to throw the government into chaos. Another of these violent men killed an arch-duke and started a World War. It’s a bit ironic that we’ve come to a point where an assassin aimed to kill a man who replaced chaos caused by government with a nonviolent state of what some people might call anarchy.
Let’s get one thing straight from the start: Despite everything that’s been written about him — and most of it is true — Raymond Douglas Kaliber was not a saint. He probably would be the first one to tell you that. But what he managed to show about the need for bosses probably qualified him for sainthood in half the religions in the galaxy, and the other half are the religions for people who are clueless to begin with, if you don’t mind my saying so.
Who am I to say so? That’s a great question. You should never take my word for it. Everything in this book is the truth as Ray and other people told me, but it’s filtered by their point of view and then filtered again by mine.
See, that’s just the beauty of what Ray had to show us. What I’m going to tell you about in this book is my educated opinion. And you’re not going to get the complete picture of Raymond Kaliber from one darn book, so go educate yourself fully about the man and draw your own conclusions.
“I think I’m onto something,” Kaliber would tell anyone willing to listen, “but never take one guy’s word for anything. Check it out yourself.” The good news for Sirius 4 is eventually, enough people listened to him and checked it out to make a difference in the long run.
Hundreds of years ago American presidents named Garfield and McKinley were assassinated by violent men who called themselves anarchists and wanted to throw the government into chaos. Another of these violent men killed an arch-duke and started a World War. It’s a bit ironic that we’ve come to a point where an assassin aimed to kill a man who replaced chaos caused by government with a nonviolent state of what some people might call anarchy.
Let’s get one thing straight from the start: Despite everything that’s been written about him — and most of it is true — Raymond Douglas Kaliber was not a saint. He probably would be the first one to tell you that. But what he managed to show about the need for bosses probably qualified him for sainthood in half the religions in the galaxy, and the other half are the religions for people who are clueless to begin with, if you don’t mind my saying so.
Who am I to say so? That’s a great question. You should never take my word for it. Everything in this book is the truth as Ray and other people told me, but it’s filtered by their point of view and then filtered again by mine.
See, that’s just the beauty of what Ray had to show us. What I’m going to tell you about in this book is my educated opinion. And you’re not going to get the complete picture of Raymond Kaliber from one darn book, so go educate yourself fully about the man and draw your own conclusions.
“I think I’m onto something,” Kaliber would tell anyone willing to listen, “but never take one guy’s word for anything. Check it out yourself.” The good news for Sirius 4 is eventually, enough people listened to him and checked it out to make a difference in the long run.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Entry 41. The governor
Silas Fredersen was not a bad man. But he will not be remembered as a good man.
Appointed governor of Sirius 4 in S4Y 132, he had the unenviable task of implementing increasingly unreasonable Earthian policies over an increasingly restless populace. He was a true believer, but only to a point.
It made perfect sense to him, for example, that the people of Sirius 4 had a perpetual debt to Earth for the investments made more than a century earlier – the interstellar flights, the establishment of bases, the construction of the oxygen-nitrogen generators. He had no problem collecting our taxes and transferring them to unseen and, to us, irrelevant bureaucrats 8.6 light years away.
But he always admitted he felt uncomfortable that he was the leader of Sirius 4 not because we wanted him but because one of those unseen and irrelevant bureaucrats selected him to rule over us.
That instinct is one big reason why I say he was not a bad man; he understood the need of free men and women to rule themselves.
That instinct is what made him able to sustain negotiations for Sirius 4 independence for three full years, even as it became increasingly obvious that his Earthian masters were not going to let us be any more independent than they were willing to dictate.
“Silas always made us feel like he believed in our ultimate goal, to let Sirians determine the future of Sirius 4,” Sen. Badiah Sinclair told me as we watched the ship carry Fredersen and the last of his security forces fly away on that fateful day in S4Y 138. “I think that’s what kept us at the table.”
History later showed that Fredersen convinced Earth not to let the Simmons incident escalate into full-blown revolution, instead retreating back to the homeworld and allowing us to feel our oats as an independent planet for a couple of years. That was how long it took for Earth to decide it couldn’t live without our tax payments after all, and they sent Joshua True to collect our freedom.
Without Fredersen’s reluctance to make Jim Simmons just the first of many martyrs for the cause, the bloody phase of our story would have come much sooner. And perhaps we would have lost that war. Perhaps we needed to taste a couple of years of freedom to fully appreciate its flavor.
So for all of those reasons, I believe Silas Fredersen was not a bad man. In some ways he was even heroic. But he also was responsible for running a government where a bureaucrat felt justified murdering a landowner for defending his right to erect a pole building 10 centimeters closer to his property line than the law allowed.
Therefore, we won’t ever remember him as a good man, either.
Entry 42
Appointed governor of Sirius 4 in S4Y 132, he had the unenviable task of implementing increasingly unreasonable Earthian policies over an increasingly restless populace. He was a true believer, but only to a point.
It made perfect sense to him, for example, that the people of Sirius 4 had a perpetual debt to Earth for the investments made more than a century earlier – the interstellar flights, the establishment of bases, the construction of the oxygen-nitrogen generators. He had no problem collecting our taxes and transferring them to unseen and, to us, irrelevant bureaucrats 8.6 light years away.
But he always admitted he felt uncomfortable that he was the leader of Sirius 4 not because we wanted him but because one of those unseen and irrelevant bureaucrats selected him to rule over us.
That instinct is one big reason why I say he was not a bad man; he understood the need of free men and women to rule themselves.
That instinct is what made him able to sustain negotiations for Sirius 4 independence for three full years, even as it became increasingly obvious that his Earthian masters were not going to let us be any more independent than they were willing to dictate.
“Silas always made us feel like he believed in our ultimate goal, to let Sirians determine the future of Sirius 4,” Sen. Badiah Sinclair told me as we watched the ship carry Fredersen and the last of his security forces fly away on that fateful day in S4Y 138. “I think that’s what kept us at the table.”
History later showed that Fredersen convinced Earth not to let the Simmons incident escalate into full-blown revolution, instead retreating back to the homeworld and allowing us to feel our oats as an independent planet for a couple of years. That was how long it took for Earth to decide it couldn’t live without our tax payments after all, and they sent Joshua True to collect our freedom.
Without Fredersen’s reluctance to make Jim Simmons just the first of many martyrs for the cause, the bloody phase of our story would have come much sooner. And perhaps we would have lost that war. Perhaps we needed to taste a couple of years of freedom to fully appreciate its flavor.
So for all of those reasons, I believe Silas Fredersen was not a bad man. In some ways he was even heroic. But he also was responsible for running a government where a bureaucrat felt justified murdering a landowner for defending his right to erect a pole building 10 centimeters closer to his property line than the law allowed.
Therefore, we won’t ever remember him as a good man, either.
Entry 42
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Entry 40. Conflict of interest
I should have seen it coming. In fact, I did see it coming: You may recall that when I first proposed meeting Buffalo Springsteen outside of the classroom, my opening words were, “Buffalo, it’s extremely inappropriate for me to ask given our teacher-student relationship, but –”
She expected nothing from me in the classroom that would be based on anything that happened between us outside the classroom, and I expected nothing from her that would motivate me to assess her performance as a student differently. We set those boundaries long before we envisioned romantic walks along the beach or kisses that delved into untapped emotional crescendos. Well, perhaps we envisioned them, but we discussed the limits long before we acted on the impulses.
I might add, for people still appalled by age gaps between lovers, that there was no significant age gap here. I was a young professor, and she was a final-year student. I was 27 years old, and she was 23 – perfectly acceptable behavior for the usual couple.
But there was indeed this classroom setting where we met three times a week. And so our conversations and clear fondness for each other gained the attention of the obtrusive.
“A word, Raymond,” Ian Yensen said one day after the customary exchange of greetings. Ian chairs the History department at the University of Sirius 4.
“Something wrong, other than the obvious?” I asked. It was the day after the news broke that the reason Earth’s moon dissolved was a weapon that Earthians planned to use to terrify our independent little world.
“Oh, yes, the imaginary bomb. Terrible business, that,” Ian replied. “No, this is not quite that earth-shattering” – a pause while he pondered whether to acknowledge the inadvertent pun – “Have you been seeing a student socially?”
I blinked and grinned, then upon seeing the look on his face swallowed the grin. “As a matter of fact, I have,” I admitted, seeing no reason to misrepresent the plain truth. “We’ve discussed the potential conflict of interest, and I think we each understand that nothing outside of the classroom can affect what happens inside the classroom.”
“That’s a lovely theory, and of course it’s admirable that you’ve discussed it, but you do understand that ethically speaking, you have placed Ms. Springsteen in a compromising position – and yourself of course, and perhaps the university.”
I recalled Buffalo Springsteen snarling at Carson McGillicuddy and coming within an inch of committing petty violence in my class, and suppressed another grin. “I think she is capable of handling the relationship in a reasonable and mature manner.”
“Well and good,” Ian said, “but we need to discuss this further. I’m afraid we’ll have to schedule a formal hearing with the chancellor, dean and myself. I’m not saying this is a major issue, but formalities, you know. You’re certainly not the first professor ever to be enchanted by a student.”
“It’s a little more than that, Ian,” I said, finally a little testy.
“It always seems to be in these cases,” he said. “A week from today, early afternoon?”
With just enough of a pause to indicate he had irritated me: “Fine.”
“Irritated” is the right word. I wasn’t particularly upset or angry or defensive about my friendship with Buffalo, which was well on its way to becoming something deeper. And I understood all of the ramifications that accompany a professor becoming “involved” with a student. It was just a tad annoying to have to defend my integrity and hers in front of officious busybodies.
We never did get around to that hearing, Ian, the chancellor, the dean and I. Life intervened.
Entry 41. The governor
She expected nothing from me in the classroom that would be based on anything that happened between us outside the classroom, and I expected nothing from her that would motivate me to assess her performance as a student differently. We set those boundaries long before we envisioned romantic walks along the beach or kisses that delved into untapped emotional crescendos. Well, perhaps we envisioned them, but we discussed the limits long before we acted on the impulses.
I might add, for people still appalled by age gaps between lovers, that there was no significant age gap here. I was a young professor, and she was a final-year student. I was 27 years old, and she was 23 – perfectly acceptable behavior for the usual couple.
But there was indeed this classroom setting where we met three times a week. And so our conversations and clear fondness for each other gained the attention of the obtrusive.
“A word, Raymond,” Ian Yensen said one day after the customary exchange of greetings. Ian chairs the History department at the University of Sirius 4.
“Something wrong, other than the obvious?” I asked. It was the day after the news broke that the reason Earth’s moon dissolved was a weapon that Earthians planned to use to terrify our independent little world.
“Oh, yes, the imaginary bomb. Terrible business, that,” Ian replied. “No, this is not quite that earth-shattering” – a pause while he pondered whether to acknowledge the inadvertent pun – “Have you been seeing a student socially?”
I blinked and grinned, then upon seeing the look on his face swallowed the grin. “As a matter of fact, I have,” I admitted, seeing no reason to misrepresent the plain truth. “We’ve discussed the potential conflict of interest, and I think we each understand that nothing outside of the classroom can affect what happens inside the classroom.”
“That’s a lovely theory, and of course it’s admirable that you’ve discussed it, but you do understand that ethically speaking, you have placed Ms. Springsteen in a compromising position – and yourself of course, and perhaps the university.”
I recalled Buffalo Springsteen snarling at Carson McGillicuddy and coming within an inch of committing petty violence in my class, and suppressed another grin. “I think she is capable of handling the relationship in a reasonable and mature manner.”
“Well and good,” Ian said, “but we need to discuss this further. I’m afraid we’ll have to schedule a formal hearing with the chancellor, dean and myself. I’m not saying this is a major issue, but formalities, you know. You’re certainly not the first professor ever to be enchanted by a student.”
“It’s a little more than that, Ian,” I said, finally a little testy.
“It always seems to be in these cases,” he said. “A week from today, early afternoon?”
With just enough of a pause to indicate he had irritated me: “Fine.”
“Irritated” is the right word. I wasn’t particularly upset or angry or defensive about my friendship with Buffalo, which was well on its way to becoming something deeper. And I understood all of the ramifications that accompany a professor becoming “involved” with a student. It was just a tad annoying to have to defend my integrity and hers in front of officious busybodies.
We never did get around to that hearing, Ian, the chancellor, the dean and I. Life intervened.
Entry 41. The governor
Monday, July 16, 2012
Entry 39. Give more than you receive
This is a big universe, and there are essentially two views of it – either it’s growing or shrinking. Newton and the imaginary physicists confused the issue with their statement that matter can’t be created or destroyed, because they overlooked the creative nature of human beings.
A fellow named Wallace D. Wattles shook up the issue in the early Earthian 20th century with a little book called The Science of Growing Rich. He confounded the physicists by claiming there is some kind of creative stuff in the universe, and that by digging your hands into this stuff you could have whatever you want. The problem with saying such stuff exists is that no one has ever seen or handled this stuff.
But metaphorically speaking Wattles had an intriguing thought. Each of us is a new and unique individual with an innate creativity, and so we are creating anew and expanding the universe every day just by being – whether we’re making new thoughts or building new civilizations. In Wattles’ vision of the universe, life is not a zero-sum game because we are each adding our new creations minute by minute to the wealth that has come before.
He wrote:
Give more than you receive.
We are all creative persons, and we each make art every day – whether our art is making furniture or stringing words together or processing waste. Our every action adds value to the universe. If each act is focused on giving, we each receive what we need – and Wattles would say we each receive what we want. Another 20th-Earth-century philosopher put it this way: “You can have anything you want if you help enough other people get what they want.”
Imagine a world with this view of the universe as one of its central tenets, where taking and confiscating and redistribution is not part of the equation because our intentions are all about giving. Perhaps you begin to see why we decided to abandon the old forms.
Entry 40. Conflict of interest
A fellow named Wallace D. Wattles shook up the issue in the early Earthian 20th century with a little book called The Science of Growing Rich. He confounded the physicists by claiming there is some kind of creative stuff in the universe, and that by digging your hands into this stuff you could have whatever you want. The problem with saying such stuff exists is that no one has ever seen or handled this stuff.
But metaphorically speaking Wattles had an intriguing thought. Each of us is a new and unique individual with an innate creativity, and so we are creating anew and expanding the universe every day just by being – whether we’re making new thoughts or building new civilizations. In Wattles’ vision of the universe, life is not a zero-sum game because we are each adding our new creations minute by minute to the wealth that has come before.
He wrote:
You must get rid of the thought of competition. You are to create, not to compete for what is already created.
You do not have to take anything away from any one.
You do not have to drive sharp bargains.
You do not have to cheat, or to take advantage. You do not need to let any man work for you for less than he earns.
You do not have to covet the property of others, or to look at it with wishful eyes; no man has anything of which you cannot have the like, and that without taking what he has away from him.
You are to become a creator, not a competitor; you are going to get what you want, but in such a way that when you get it every other man will have more than he has now.Or, to put it in fewer words, as I did in the third of my Tenets of Common Wealth:
Give more than you receive.
We are all creative persons, and we each make art every day – whether our art is making furniture or stringing words together or processing waste. Our every action adds value to the universe. If each act is focused on giving, we each receive what we need – and Wattles would say we each receive what we want. Another 20th-Earth-century philosopher put it this way: “You can have anything you want if you help enough other people get what they want.”
Imagine a world with this view of the universe as one of its central tenets, where taking and confiscating and redistribution is not part of the equation because our intentions are all about giving. Perhaps you begin to see why we decided to abandon the old forms.
Entry 40. Conflict of interest
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Entry 38. The Nazarene
John Hemlock had a somewhat non-evangelistic approach to evangelical Christianity: He wasn’t as concerned about convincing you to accept Jesus as your personal Lord and Savior as he was about recommending the resulting lifestyle.
And by lifestyle, he didn’t mean the traditional taboos like not getting drunk or not cheating on your spouse or not using colorful language – he was more focused on the idea of “Love your neighbor as yourself.”
John also completely ignored the stuff about “I am the way and the truth and the light – no one can come to the Father except through me.”
“Hey look, this what works for me; you can go ahead and try any other way of getting to the Father if you’d like, or no way at all if that’s your choice,” Hemlock said. “I’m just tellin’ ya that this seems to be the only one that really works in my life. And the most important thing is dealing with each other with an attitude of love.”
His best example of that attitude was the life of Jesus – a guy who was held up as the savior who was going to lead the revolution that freed his hometown of Nazareth and the surrounding countryside from an empire based 1,400 miles away. They wanted him to be some sort of military hero, but he had something else in mind: “Love your neighbor.”
When the empire came to arrest Jesus, his buddies grabbed their swords and went after the officers – lopped off an ear or two – but he told them to stop and went quietly.
Then he went through a kangaroo court and was executed brutally, all the while talking about forgiveness. There’s some disagreement about what happened after the execution (John insists in literally believing the resurrection story – “otherwise he’s just some historical guy and not still alive, which of course he is”), but there’s no question that he started a movement that’s still going strong two and a half millennia later.
Had he led a military coup and forced his way to freedom, he would have just been another long-forgotten imaginary revolutionist. By concentrating on an internal revolution, Jesus made a lasting change.
“A lot of people have been killed over the years in the name of Christ,” I said to John Hemlock one day.
“Oh, don’t get me started,” he laughed. “The guy laid down a pretty tough foundation when he said ‘Love your enemies.’ A lot of people decided he couldn’t have been serious about that. But he was. And if the guy in front of you is not some damn Earthian who’d just as soon kill ya – if he’s an individual just as deserving of your love as the guy in the mirror – that kind of changes your attitude.”
That internal attitude struck me as a much better – and effective – way to regulate my behavior than an external government. I began to believe a peaceful everyday life could exist without the amorphous, threatening entity we call The State, if we were just willing to try treating each other with love and respect. “Love your neighbor as yourself” became the first of my three Tenets of Common Wealth and the basis of the “real” revolution on Sirius 4.
Entry 39. Give more than you receive
And by lifestyle, he didn’t mean the traditional taboos like not getting drunk or not cheating on your spouse or not using colorful language – he was more focused on the idea of “Love your neighbor as yourself.”
John also completely ignored the stuff about “I am the way and the truth and the light – no one can come to the Father except through me.”
“Hey look, this what works for me; you can go ahead and try any other way of getting to the Father if you’d like, or no way at all if that’s your choice,” Hemlock said. “I’m just tellin’ ya that this seems to be the only one that really works in my life. And the most important thing is dealing with each other with an attitude of love.”
His best example of that attitude was the life of Jesus – a guy who was held up as the savior who was going to lead the revolution that freed his hometown of Nazareth and the surrounding countryside from an empire based 1,400 miles away. They wanted him to be some sort of military hero, but he had something else in mind: “Love your neighbor.”
When the empire came to arrest Jesus, his buddies grabbed their swords and went after the officers – lopped off an ear or two – but he told them to stop and went quietly.
Then he went through a kangaroo court and was executed brutally, all the while talking about forgiveness. There’s some disagreement about what happened after the execution (John insists in literally believing the resurrection story – “otherwise he’s just some historical guy and not still alive, which of course he is”), but there’s no question that he started a movement that’s still going strong two and a half millennia later.
Had he led a military coup and forced his way to freedom, he would have just been another long-forgotten imaginary revolutionist. By concentrating on an internal revolution, Jesus made a lasting change.
“A lot of people have been killed over the years in the name of Christ,” I said to John Hemlock one day.
“Oh, don’t get me started,” he laughed. “The guy laid down a pretty tough foundation when he said ‘Love your enemies.’ A lot of people decided he couldn’t have been serious about that. But he was. And if the guy in front of you is not some damn Earthian who’d just as soon kill ya – if he’s an individual just as deserving of your love as the guy in the mirror – that kind of changes your attitude.”
That internal attitude struck me as a much better – and effective – way to regulate my behavior than an external government. I began to believe a peaceful everyday life could exist without the amorphous, threatening entity we call The State, if we were just willing to try treating each other with love and respect. “Love your neighbor as yourself” became the first of my three Tenets of Common Wealth and the basis of the “real” revolution on Sirius 4.
Entry 39. Give more than you receive
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Entry 37. The man from Greeley
The Republic of Texas was an Earthian confederation of a half-dozen regions that had once been part of a much larger alliance. Ramsey Sardonicus, a business owner from a town on the edge of the confederation – Greeley, Colorado – had had enough of sending his proceeds to the capital city nearly 1,000 miles away in the confiscatory system called taxation.
But Sardonicus was a gentle man, and while his employees, friends and colleagues all grumbled about shooting their way to freedom one day, he believed there must be a better way.
His idea was to combine Thoreau’s refusal to pay taxes, King’s direct action to force a tension that leads to negotiation, and Gandhi’s gathering of thousands of supporters simply to ignore the law.
The plan was noncooperation on a massive scale. The people of Colorado – including, eventually, most of its public officials – just stopped cooperating with the central government. They didn’t just stop paying their taxes. Builders built houses without government-issued permits. Couples got married without government licenses. People wouldn’t show up when called to jury duty. Department of Vehicles offices were empty because operators stopped registering their vehicles. They just stopped paying attention to the government.
When the capital city sent troops to enforce the laws and regulations, they were greeted by 150,000 people surrounding the Colorado governor’s mansion, calmly standing with their hands folded. The only way the troops could get inside would be to shoot their way through the crowd.
And the president and legislature of Texas blinked. After a process of negotiation, Colorado was given permission to secede without firing a shot.
Ramsey Sardonicus declined the offer to become the first president of the Republic of Colorado, but he gave me the best example I had to inspire a peaceful separation between Sirius 4 and Earth. I did not convince my president and legislature to follow Colorado’s example, but when the time came to defy our president and legislature, the people of Sirius 4 were ready.
And I had a different thought about life after the revolution. John Hemlock and his Nazarene helped me complete that thought.
Entry 38. The Nazarene
But Sardonicus was a gentle man, and while his employees, friends and colleagues all grumbled about shooting their way to freedom one day, he believed there must be a better way.
His idea was to combine Thoreau’s refusal to pay taxes, King’s direct action to force a tension that leads to negotiation, and Gandhi’s gathering of thousands of supporters simply to ignore the law.
The plan was noncooperation on a massive scale. The people of Colorado – including, eventually, most of its public officials – just stopped cooperating with the central government. They didn’t just stop paying their taxes. Builders built houses without government-issued permits. Couples got married without government licenses. People wouldn’t show up when called to jury duty. Department of Vehicles offices were empty because operators stopped registering their vehicles. They just stopped paying attention to the government.
When the capital city sent troops to enforce the laws and regulations, they were greeted by 150,000 people surrounding the Colorado governor’s mansion, calmly standing with their hands folded. The only way the troops could get inside would be to shoot their way through the crowd.
And the president and legislature of Texas blinked. After a process of negotiation, Colorado was given permission to secede without firing a shot.
Ramsey Sardonicus declined the offer to become the first president of the Republic of Colorado, but he gave me the best example I had to inspire a peaceful separation between Sirius 4 and Earth. I did not convince my president and legislature to follow Colorado’s example, but when the time came to defy our president and legislature, the people of Sirius 4 were ready.
And I had a different thought about life after the revolution. John Hemlock and his Nazarene helped me complete that thought.
Entry 38. The Nazarene
Friday, July 13, 2012
Entry 36. March to the sea
Tyranny often manifests itself in silly ways. Laws against dark-skinned people using the same facilities as light-skinned people are somewhat nonsensical, for example. Another silly law prohibited the people of a land called India from making their own salt. Really.
The remote government, based several thousand miles away on a different continent, passed a law that prohibited Indians from collecting or selling salt. The idea was to force people to buy their salt from businesses sanctioned by the government, which also levied a heavy salt tax on the purchases.
Mohandas Gandhi, who had studied Thoreau, reasoned that defying the silly Salt Act would be an ideal way to fight the government in nonviolent fashion. In EY 1930, tens of thousands of people led by Gandhi gathered on the shore of the Arabian Sea to make their own salt from the salty ocean water.
The act of defiance set off a wave of mostly nonviolent demonstrations, and the remote government arrested 60,000 people, including Gandhi – a healthy start on Thoreau’s goal of crowding the jails to the point of jamming the wheels of government.
I said “mostly nonviolent.” The violence, however, was initiated by the government.
Gandhi had feared what eventually happened, warning his followers that they must be prepared for the worst, even death, in their effort to throw off the salt tax – just as Thoreau in his much milder protest was prepared to go to jail for his belief.
While he was in jail, a group of 2,500 peaceful marchers outside a salt factory allowed themselves to be brutally beaten by a group of police officers acting under government instructions.
A reporter who observed the “raid” on the salt factory recorded what happened after the marchers refused to obey a police order to disperse:
But it must be said that India remained independent for many years after that, while violent regimes came and went in surrounding countries. To me it was a demonstration that violence begets violence, while freedom won without violence seemed more lasting.
Entry 37. The man from Greeley
The remote government, based several thousand miles away on a different continent, passed a law that prohibited Indians from collecting or selling salt. The idea was to force people to buy their salt from businesses sanctioned by the government, which also levied a heavy salt tax on the purchases.
Mohandas Gandhi, who had studied Thoreau, reasoned that defying the silly Salt Act would be an ideal way to fight the government in nonviolent fashion. In EY 1930, tens of thousands of people led by Gandhi gathered on the shore of the Arabian Sea to make their own salt from the salty ocean water.
The act of defiance set off a wave of mostly nonviolent demonstrations, and the remote government arrested 60,000 people, including Gandhi – a healthy start on Thoreau’s goal of crowding the jails to the point of jamming the wheels of government.
I said “mostly nonviolent.” The violence, however, was initiated by the government.
Gandhi had feared what eventually happened, warning his followers that they must be prepared for the worst, even death, in their effort to throw off the salt tax – just as Thoreau in his much milder protest was prepared to go to jail for his belief.
While he was in jail, a group of 2,500 peaceful marchers outside a salt factory allowed themselves to be brutally beaten by a group of police officers acting under government instructions.
A reporter who observed the “raid” on the salt factory recorded what happened after the marchers refused to obey a police order to disperse:
Police charged, swinging their clubs and belaboring the raiders on all sides. The volunteers made no resistance. As the police swung hastily with their sticks, the natives simply dropped in their tracks.
Less than 100 yards away I could hear the dull impact of clubs against bodies. The watching crowds gasped, or sometimes cheered as the volunteers crumpled before the police without even raising their arms to ward off the blows. With almost unbelievable meekness they submitted to the clubbing and were carried away by their comrades who had collected a score of stretchers.
As the attacks continued, stretcher bearers were overworked. Other volunteers joined, using blankets as stretchers for the injured who were falling so fast that the volunteers established a clearing station a hundred yards from the pans.
I counted 42 injured lying on the muddy ground and a few others who were unconscious and writhing in pain.
After police had driven the raiders back, leaders altered their tactics and started stretching themselves on the ground or sitting in front of the police as closely as they could press to the entanglements. They were warned repeatedly by police, who then struck the men sitting in front of them. The volunteers who were hit simply reeled over on the ground – without making a cry or an effort to defend themselves.The incident caused a worldwide outcry against the government’s actions, and although it would be more than a decade before India became free, Gandhi showed how effective nonviolent protest could be in shaming the tyrant into ending the tyranny – assuming of course that the tyrant is capable of shame.
But it must be said that India remained independent for many years after that, while violent regimes came and went in surrounding countries. To me it was a demonstration that violence begets violence, while freedom won without violence seemed more lasting.
Entry 37. The man from Greeley
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Entry 35. The man in the jail cell
It’s a little hard to believe, but once upon a time a person’s worth was measured by the tint of his skin color. A little more than 100 years after Thoreau, a man led nonviolent protests against laws that prohibited dark-skinned people from sitting in the same restaurant seats or bus benches as lighter-skinned people.
His revolution, as a darker-skinned man, consisted one day of sitting in a chair reserved for lighter-skinned people in an Earth city called Birmingham. He actually was thrown into jail for this act, and while sitting in his cell, he wrote about the value of taking direct action in a nonviolent fashion:
He had addressed that issue, too, in the Birmingham jail, because some of his critics argued that the protests came at the wrong time and he would have done better to wait.
“We know through painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed,” he wrote. “Frankly, I have yet to engage in a direct action campaign that was ‘well timed’ in the view of those who have not suffered unduly from the disease of segregation. For years now I have heard the word ‘Wait!’ It rings in the ear of every Negro with piercing familiarity. This ‘Wait’ has almost always meant ‘Never.’ We must come to see, with one of our distinguished jurists, that ‘justice too long delayed is justice denied.’”
Dark-skinned people had to wait literal centuries to achieve justice; the people of Sirius 4 found their freedom in a matter of decades. The reason, in part, was that resisters like King had demonstrated the path to liberty.
Entry 36. March to the sea
His revolution, as a darker-skinned man, consisted one day of sitting in a chair reserved for lighter-skinned people in an Earth city called Birmingham. He actually was thrown into jail for this act, and while sitting in his cell, he wrote about the value of taking direct action in a nonviolent fashion:
Nonviolent direct action seeks to create such a crisis and foster such a tension that a community which has constantly refused to negotiate is forced to confront the issue. It seeks so to dramatize the issue that it can no longer be ignored. My citing the creation of tension as part of the work of the nonviolent resister may sound rather shocking. But I must confess that I am not afraid of the word “tension.” I have earnestly opposed violent tension, but there is a type of constructive, nonviolent tension which is necessary for growth. Just as Socrates felt that it was necessary to create a tension in the mind so that individuals could rise from the bondage of myths and half truths to the unfettered realm of creative analysis and objective appraisal, so must we see the need for nonviolent gadflies to create the kind of tension in society that will help men rise from the dark depths of prejudice and racism to the majestic heights of understanding and brotherhood.Martin Luther King Jr. was successful in shining light on how silly the laws were, and it wasn’t long before dark- and light-skinned people were sitting together in the same places. It was many years, however, before some people got over that weird prejudice. In fact King was murdered by someone who thought he was taking people too far too fast.
He had addressed that issue, too, in the Birmingham jail, because some of his critics argued that the protests came at the wrong time and he would have done better to wait.
“We know through painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed,” he wrote. “Frankly, I have yet to engage in a direct action campaign that was ‘well timed’ in the view of those who have not suffered unduly from the disease of segregation. For years now I have heard the word ‘Wait!’ It rings in the ear of every Negro with piercing familiarity. This ‘Wait’ has almost always meant ‘Never.’ We must come to see, with one of our distinguished jurists, that ‘justice too long delayed is justice denied.’”
Dark-skinned people had to wait literal centuries to achieve justice; the people of Sirius 4 found their freedom in a matter of decades. The reason, in part, was that resisters like King had demonstrated the path to liberty.
Entry 36. March to the sea
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Entry 34. The civil disobeyer
Henry David Thoreau hated that he was asked to support a government that condoned slavery, the idea that a man could hold another man as if he were property. Thoreau also hated that he was asked to support a government that had gone to war under questionable circumstances.
He had spent a single night in jail for refusing to pay a poll tax, which he found unjust, and in the course of that night he realized that the state had no control over his mind and soul, the essence of who he was.
“As they could not reach me, they had resolved to punish my body; just as boys, if they cannot come at some person against whom they have a spite, will abuse his dog,” Thoreau wrote in EY 1849 – about 400 years ago. “I saw that the State was half-witted, that it was timid as a lone woman with her silver spoons, and that it did not know its friends from its foes, and I lost all my remaining respect for it, and pitied it.”
Reflecting on the disruption that his small protest had created in his little town, he envisioned that if people in general refused to pay their taxes to protest the institution of slavery or the unjust war, the State might be motivated to abolish slavery or end the war.
“If the alternative is to keep all just men in prison, or give up war and slavery, the State will not hesitate which to choose,” he wrote. “If a thousand men were not to pay their tax bills this year, that would not be a violent and bloody measure, as it would be to pay them, and enable the State to commit violence and shed innocent blood. This is, in fact, the definition of a peaceable revolution, if any such is possible.”
And Thoreau tried to convince his readers that a person of conscience had an obligation to be a part of this peaceable revolution: “Under a government which imprisons unjustly, the true place for a just man is also a prison.”
This was the popular beginning of the concept of noncooperation – that gumming up the machinery of government by, for example, flooding the prisons with peaceful men and women who deliberately violated an unjust law, could have the same effect as an armed revolution, and (I would argue) even a greater effect.
Entry 35. The man in the jail cell
He had spent a single night in jail for refusing to pay a poll tax, which he found unjust, and in the course of that night he realized that the state had no control over his mind and soul, the essence of who he was.
“As they could not reach me, they had resolved to punish my body; just as boys, if they cannot come at some person against whom they have a spite, will abuse his dog,” Thoreau wrote in EY 1849 – about 400 years ago. “I saw that the State was half-witted, that it was timid as a lone woman with her silver spoons, and that it did not know its friends from its foes, and I lost all my remaining respect for it, and pitied it.”
Reflecting on the disruption that his small protest had created in his little town, he envisioned that if people in general refused to pay their taxes to protest the institution of slavery or the unjust war, the State might be motivated to abolish slavery or end the war.
“If the alternative is to keep all just men in prison, or give up war and slavery, the State will not hesitate which to choose,” he wrote. “If a thousand men were not to pay their tax bills this year, that would not be a violent and bloody measure, as it would be to pay them, and enable the State to commit violence and shed innocent blood. This is, in fact, the definition of a peaceable revolution, if any such is possible.”
And Thoreau tried to convince his readers that a person of conscience had an obligation to be a part of this peaceable revolution: “Under a government which imprisons unjustly, the true place for a just man is also a prison.”
This was the popular beginning of the concept of noncooperation – that gumming up the machinery of government by, for example, flooding the prisons with peaceful men and women who deliberately violated an unjust law, could have the same effect as an armed revolution, and (I would argue) even a greater effect.
Entry 35. The man in the jail cell
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Entry 33. The resisters
There have been many through the years who have achieved victories large and small using the principles of nonviolent civil disobedience, but the most familiar – and therefore most accessible in sharing the concept with a general audience – are these five Earthians:
• Henry David Thoreau, who would not pay his tax bill.
• Mohandas Gandhi, who led the campaign to free India.
• Martin Luther King Jr., who won respect and equality for the oppressed.
• Ramsey Sardonicus, who synthesized those three men’s philosophies and convinced Texas to let Colorado secede peacefully.
• Jesus, a Nazarene, whose commandment “Love your neighbor as yourself” I adopted as the first Tenet of Common Wealth, on John Hemlock's suggestion.
Five resisters, five paths to freedom – the five reasons why Sirius 4 is now the most free place in the galaxy.
Entry 34. The civil disobeyer
• Henry David Thoreau, who would not pay his tax bill.
• Mohandas Gandhi, who led the campaign to free India.
• Martin Luther King Jr., who won respect and equality for the oppressed.
• Ramsey Sardonicus, who synthesized those three men’s philosophies and convinced Texas to let Colorado secede peacefully.
• Jesus, a Nazarene, whose commandment “Love your neighbor as yourself” I adopted as the first Tenet of Common Wealth, on John Hemlock's suggestion.
Five resisters, five paths to freedom – the five reasons why Sirius 4 is now the most free place in the galaxy.
Entry 34. The civil disobeyer
Monday, July 9, 2012
Entry 32. Hard choices
One of the advantages of the president being your childhood chum is that you have the president’s ear occasionally. I had spent my entire academic career specializing in the study of nonviolent civil disobedience, and a small handful of movers and shakers had begun to notice my work before Lt. True and his occupation force arrived.
When newly independent Sirius 4 found itself invaded by its former ruling world, naturally free people bristled. Even those who were not so certain independence was a good idea found themselves insulted by the thought that Mama Earth was going to bring her errant child back in the fold unilaterally.
The call for armed resistance arose within hours of True’s announcement, and the war would have flamed up even sooner if the good lieutenant had not had the good sense to release “Senator” Sinclair into his own custody after a day of house arrest – with strict instructions to behave himself and not go off leading an armed insurrection or anything of that sort, which Badiah of course clearly intended anyway.
“We are playing into True’s hands if we meet this with violence,” I said at the first opportunity when Badi accepted my request to visit him. “The first peacekeeper who’s killed or wounded will be their excuse to crack down even harder, and independence will be that much more elusive.”
“Either that, or Earth won’t have the stomach for their sons and daughters being killed in a meaningless war light years away,” Badiah replied. “What do you suggest, hugging them into submission?”
I laughed. I had to, he was right, responding to armed occupiers with love and forgiveness was a hard sell with people. But I had something in mind less passive than that.
“We can choose noncooperation,” I offered. “Just don’t accept their authority. Ignore it. Go about our lives as if they aren’t there and haven’t laid down their stupid laws. What are they going to do, arrest us all? There’s not enough room in the jails for all of us.”
“They can hurt us. They can kill us,” President Sinclair replied softly. “I’m not going to allow that. If they’re ready to use lethal force, and they are, then we strike first.”
“Kill them because they’re prepared to kill us – even though they actually haven’t tried yet?”
“Yet, Ray – they haven’t killed anyone yet, not since Jim Simmons – but they will, unless we submit to their tyranny again. It’s us or them.”
“There’s always a third way!” I cried. He knew what I meant.
But we didn’t choose the third way, not Badiah, not most of the rest of us. Sirians fought against tyranny the old-fashioned way: Guns, knives, lasers, and when all else failed, bare hands.
And in the end, this time Badiah Sinclair was right. Earth would have no stomach for filled body bags coming home from Sirius 4. I knew he wouldn’t take my advice, but I had to try, because I also was fairly certain what would happen next.
Entry 33. The resisters
When newly independent Sirius 4 found itself invaded by its former ruling world, naturally free people bristled. Even those who were not so certain independence was a good idea found themselves insulted by the thought that Mama Earth was going to bring her errant child back in the fold unilaterally.
The call for armed resistance arose within hours of True’s announcement, and the war would have flamed up even sooner if the good lieutenant had not had the good sense to release “Senator” Sinclair into his own custody after a day of house arrest – with strict instructions to behave himself and not go off leading an armed insurrection or anything of that sort, which Badiah of course clearly intended anyway.
“We are playing into True’s hands if we meet this with violence,” I said at the first opportunity when Badi accepted my request to visit him. “The first peacekeeper who’s killed or wounded will be their excuse to crack down even harder, and independence will be that much more elusive.”
“Either that, or Earth won’t have the stomach for their sons and daughters being killed in a meaningless war light years away,” Badiah replied. “What do you suggest, hugging them into submission?”
I laughed. I had to, he was right, responding to armed occupiers with love and forgiveness was a hard sell with people. But I had something in mind less passive than that.
“We can choose noncooperation,” I offered. “Just don’t accept their authority. Ignore it. Go about our lives as if they aren’t there and haven’t laid down their stupid laws. What are they going to do, arrest us all? There’s not enough room in the jails for all of us.”
“They can hurt us. They can kill us,” President Sinclair replied softly. “I’m not going to allow that. If they’re ready to use lethal force, and they are, then we strike first.”
“Kill them because they’re prepared to kill us – even though they actually haven’t tried yet?”
“Yet, Ray – they haven’t killed anyone yet, not since Jim Simmons – but they will, unless we submit to their tyranny again. It’s us or them.”
“There’s always a third way!” I cried. He knew what I meant.
But we didn’t choose the third way, not Badiah, not most of the rest of us. Sirians fought against tyranny the old-fashioned way: Guns, knives, lasers, and when all else failed, bare hands.
And in the end, this time Badiah Sinclair was right. Earth would have no stomach for filled body bags coming home from Sirius 4. I knew he wouldn’t take my advice, but I had to try, because I also was fairly certain what would happen next.
Entry 33. The resisters
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Entry 31
Neighbors turn up at the widow’s door each with a meal and a hug. A barn burns down, and friends help build a new one. Food pantries are filled, shelter is offered for the homeless, clothing for the naked and shivering.
Neighbors do this, in love and caring. No law was passed, no tax was collected, no agency was created, to force them to help the grieving, the poor, the hungry, the homeless. The need was there, and so they filled it.
We didn’t even need to call it the Commonwealth of Sirius 4, but people wanted to call it something. All it took was people noticing that we got along fine without someone telling us to get along fine.
Entry 32. Hard choices
Neighbors do this, in love and caring. No law was passed, no tax was collected, no agency was created, to force them to help the grieving, the poor, the hungry, the homeless. The need was there, and so they filled it.
We didn’t even need to call it the Commonwealth of Sirius 4, but people wanted to call it something. All it took was people noticing that we got along fine without someone telling us to get along fine.
Entry 32. Hard choices
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Entry 30. After winter
And in the time of spring came the children, running through the streets as if possessed by warm swirling demons of light.
You would think after all we’d be through, they would sing an anthem of some sort – “We are the future, we are your tomorrow. Love your sons and daughters and protect us.”
But no, they just wanted to play, running and jumping and tussling as children have always done when the warmth returns to the world. They were barely aware – if they were aware at all – of the sea change that had occurred among the grownups.
They were the wisest of us all. I wanted to run and jump and tussle myself. Perhaps after the wound heals, I said. And I did, too.
Entry 31
You would think after all we’d be through, they would sing an anthem of some sort – “We are the future, we are your tomorrow. Love your sons and daughters and protect us.”
But no, they just wanted to play, running and jumping and tussling as children have always done when the warmth returns to the world. They were barely aware – if they were aware at all – of the sea change that had occurred among the grownups.
They were the wisest of us all. I wanted to run and jump and tussle myself. Perhaps after the wound heals, I said. And I did, too.
Entry 31
Friday, July 6, 2012
Entry 29. Change the question
Talking out how the Commonwealth of Sirius 4 could operate was a very interesting exercise – although not as interesting as living it out has proven to be.
We changed the question. No longer did we debate “Is this a proper function of government?” It became “Do you even need to establish a government to perform that function?” The more we talked, the more it became clear that in every case, every function, the answer was no.
With a general agreement in the Zero Aggression Principle, even keeping the peace did not require hiring a security force. Nor did it entail wild shootouts and what used to be called “lawlessness.” Informed and educated adults, it seems, have the ability to police themselves – a concept that defenders of the concept of government found astonishing.
One of the deepest and longest conversations we had was about having a “transition period.” Several respected senators argued that before you can reach the ideal of a society based on liberty and mutual respect, there must be a period of transformation where we are slowly weaned from the coercive government state to a condition of freedom.
“The inequitable advantage the haves gained over the have-nots through the years by the use of government force requires an in-between time where justice is done to these economic criminals,” Senator Gaylord McBride said, and with many eloquent words and arguments.
On the other side there was the matter of the tenets that I proposed we use as a supplement to the concept of zero aggression, starting with “Love your neighbor as yourself.” There was much resistance to the thought that our neighbors include our one-time enemies and oppressors. How can we forgive these people? I made a breakthrough when I pointed out that forgiveness carries no obligation to continue to do business with these people. No one is forced to buy their products or services anymore – the coercion is lifted.
In the end there was mutual agreement – we could not have proceeded without mutual agreement, of course, that was the whole idea – that the “haves” who gamed the coercive system had already received justice through the violent, imaginary revolution and the actual revolution that followed, and the “haves” who earned what they had by selling quality products and services to the rest of us had received justice by becoming wealthy.
This turned out to be an incentive for quite a number of people, who once manipulated the laws for their own purposes, to start making an honest living.
The “transition period” lasted a matter of days, if that. I was able to use the circumstances of my arrest and trial as a perfect example of what I was advocating.
My editors have intervened at this point. They have been patient as I jump back and forth in time writing this memoir, but they argue that expanding on my point about the trial would constitute a “spoiler,” giving away an essential detail about my life before the reader knows many other essential foundational and background details. I have argued that no one will be interested in reading my memoir who is not already familiar with my life, but I yield to their concern.
Entry 30. After winter
We changed the question. No longer did we debate “Is this a proper function of government?” It became “Do you even need to establish a government to perform that function?” The more we talked, the more it became clear that in every case, every function, the answer was no.
With a general agreement in the Zero Aggression Principle, even keeping the peace did not require hiring a security force. Nor did it entail wild shootouts and what used to be called “lawlessness.” Informed and educated adults, it seems, have the ability to police themselves – a concept that defenders of the concept of government found astonishing.
One of the deepest and longest conversations we had was about having a “transition period.” Several respected senators argued that before you can reach the ideal of a society based on liberty and mutual respect, there must be a period of transformation where we are slowly weaned from the coercive government state to a condition of freedom.
“The inequitable advantage the haves gained over the have-nots through the years by the use of government force requires an in-between time where justice is done to these economic criminals,” Senator Gaylord McBride said, and with many eloquent words and arguments.
On the other side there was the matter of the tenets that I proposed we use as a supplement to the concept of zero aggression, starting with “Love your neighbor as yourself.” There was much resistance to the thought that our neighbors include our one-time enemies and oppressors. How can we forgive these people? I made a breakthrough when I pointed out that forgiveness carries no obligation to continue to do business with these people. No one is forced to buy their products or services anymore – the coercion is lifted.
In the end there was mutual agreement – we could not have proceeded without mutual agreement, of course, that was the whole idea – that the “haves” who gamed the coercive system had already received justice through the violent, imaginary revolution and the actual revolution that followed, and the “haves” who earned what they had by selling quality products and services to the rest of us had received justice by becoming wealthy.
This turned out to be an incentive for quite a number of people, who once manipulated the laws for their own purposes, to start making an honest living.
The “transition period” lasted a matter of days, if that. I was able to use the circumstances of my arrest and trial as a perfect example of what I was advocating.
My editors have intervened at this point. They have been patient as I jump back and forth in time writing this memoir, but they argue that expanding on my point about the trial would constitute a “spoiler,” giving away an essential detail about my life before the reader knows many other essential foundational and background details. I have argued that no one will be interested in reading my memoir who is not already familiar with my life, but I yield to their concern.
Entry 30. After winter
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Entry 28. Licenses and fees
Ah yes, ImagCorp.
There are two ways to make a living, and one of them is the honest way: Make something or do something that benefits others to the level where they’re willing to pay you for it.
You can also force others to buy your product or service by convincing a government either to buy or to require citizens to buy. Or you can create an artifical shortage with government’s help – perhaps by taxing your product, or by making it illegal to perform your service without a government-issued license, for example.
ImagCorp’s leaders were geniuses at this. Once their researchers began to unlock the secrets of imaginary power – developing spaceships that traveled far faster than light, creating machines that could transform a cube of protein into a delicious meal – they worked hard to protect the technology from pesky entrepreneurs who might improve on their work and compete with them.
Hand in hand with the Earthian government, they manufactured reasons – usually for the sake of planetary security – why imaginary technology could not be shared with just anyone. If you wanted to make something or perform a service powered by the imagination, first you needed a license from the company, and then you needed a permit from the government – perhaps several licenses and permits the more complicated your project.
This ensured that the first beneficiaries of your labors were ImagCorp and the government, and it discouraged the most promising potential competitors by making it prohibitively expensive to develop their goods – all in the name of planetary security, of course.
When Imaginary Structures Inc. made plans to open a research, development and manufacturing facility in a small city called Ganges Pass, the Earthian government imposed the usual permits and ImagCorp sought the usual licenses. Because these expenses ate up fully two-thirds of the initial investment, Imaginary Structures could not build a structure, let alone open its doors. Oh, it had plenty of capital to get started – if only it didn’t have to pay the exhorbitant fees for the “right” to get started.
Shortly after Sirius 4 declared its independence, President Badiah Sinclair made a fateful decision.
“After more than a century and a half, imaginary technology is public knowledge and belongs in the public domain,” Sinclair declared. His government would not demand the onerous and expensive permits, and ImagCorp had no right to charge a fee for common technology. Not on free Sirius 4.
Imaginary Structures was making product within a month. In hindsight it’s probably surprising that Earth waited another 19 months to send an occupational force. No doubt ImagCorp was agitating for the invasion all that time.
Lt. Joshua True’s second act, after first securing the offices of Sirian government, was to lock down the Imaginary Structures complex. Ganges Pass was fated to become a symbol of both of our revolutions.
Entry 29. Change the question
There are two ways to make a living, and one of them is the honest way: Make something or do something that benefits others to the level where they’re willing to pay you for it.
You can also force others to buy your product or service by convincing a government either to buy or to require citizens to buy. Or you can create an artifical shortage with government’s help – perhaps by taxing your product, or by making it illegal to perform your service without a government-issued license, for example.
ImagCorp’s leaders were geniuses at this. Once their researchers began to unlock the secrets of imaginary power – developing spaceships that traveled far faster than light, creating machines that could transform a cube of protein into a delicious meal – they worked hard to protect the technology from pesky entrepreneurs who might improve on their work and compete with them.
Hand in hand with the Earthian government, they manufactured reasons – usually for the sake of planetary security – why imaginary technology could not be shared with just anyone. If you wanted to make something or perform a service powered by the imagination, first you needed a license from the company, and then you needed a permit from the government – perhaps several licenses and permits the more complicated your project.
This ensured that the first beneficiaries of your labors were ImagCorp and the government, and it discouraged the most promising potential competitors by making it prohibitively expensive to develop their goods – all in the name of planetary security, of course.
When Imaginary Structures Inc. made plans to open a research, development and manufacturing facility in a small city called Ganges Pass, the Earthian government imposed the usual permits and ImagCorp sought the usual licenses. Because these expenses ate up fully two-thirds of the initial investment, Imaginary Structures could not build a structure, let alone open its doors. Oh, it had plenty of capital to get started – if only it didn’t have to pay the exhorbitant fees for the “right” to get started.
Shortly after Sirius 4 declared its independence, President Badiah Sinclair made a fateful decision.
“After more than a century and a half, imaginary technology is public knowledge and belongs in the public domain,” Sinclair declared. His government would not demand the onerous and expensive permits, and ImagCorp had no right to charge a fee for common technology. Not on free Sirius 4.
Imaginary Structures was making product within a month. In hindsight it’s probably surprising that Earth waited another 19 months to send an occupational force. No doubt ImagCorp was agitating for the invasion all that time.
Lt. Joshua True’s second act, after first securing the offices of Sirian government, was to lock down the Imaginary Structures complex. Ganges Pass was fated to become a symbol of both of our revolutions.
Entry 29. Change the question
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Special entry: Independence Day
EDITOR’S NOTE: On this anniversary of an important Earthian event involving liberty, we present Ray Kaliber’s most famous speech, delivered in S4Y 147 on the occasion of the formal dissolution of the Sirian government and the establishment of the Commonwealth of Sirius 4. Kaliber’s memoirs, presented in the order in which he wrote them, will resume Thursday.
It is customary on giving a speech to open by listing all of the titles in the audience. You know, “Friends, Romans, countrymen,” or “members of Congress, senators, Supreme Court justices, distinguished guests and last but not least, citizens of this great nation.” Or some such.
And so let me begin with the only title that makes sense in this new commonwealth adventure that we embark upon today:
Friends.
Our planet has been through a few changes since it was first colonized these 147 years ago. The encampment became a settlement, and the settlement became an important base of operations for humanity’s exploration of the stars.
With the importance of the colony came a certain desire to control the colonists. But colonists by nature contain a certain will and independence, and we strained at the bit of governance. Just shy of a decade ago, long after the control became a tyranny too much to bear, the free and independent state of Sirius IV was declared, and we were forced into a revolution of blood to secure that freedom. My lifelong friend Badiah Sinclair was the leader of that revolution, and he was the natural choice to lead our new civilization.
However. A wise and ancient song about revolution concludes with the ominous words, “Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.” As glorious and welcome as our newfound freedom was, the truth about violence is that it can only beget violence. Badi Sinclair led our new government the only way he understood how to govern: by force. An all-too-familiar pattern emerged: For the greater good, liberty had to be restrained. Somehow the fruits of those who rule for the greater good are not always, well, very good.
It was an imaginary revolution. All we had succeeded in doing was to install a new boss who was, in too many ways, the same as the old boss. We soon needed a new revolution, a revolution befitting the reality of Sirius IV: We are 8.6 light years away from the governments that rule Earth, and we need to be light years away from the violent tyrannies that have dominated over the centuries 8.6 light years away.
We had a chance to re-establish the ways that human beings interact, reflecting the independent and pioneering spirit that brought us here. We depend upon each other, but we respect and trust each other, too. The creed that I suggested has served us well so far — it led us to this moment, today — although I must concede that we have only just begun.
But let us embark on a bold experiment in humanity based on these tenets: Love your neighbor as yourself. Interact with love, not force or violence. Give more than you receive.
Love your neighbor. A simple concept that somehow remains revolutionary millenia after it was first said. Perhaps it’s because of the first corrolary of that concept: The person you consider your enemy is also your neighbor.
Way back on planet Earth, in the year 1886, a very wise man named Benjamin Tucker put it this way: “It is because peaceful agitation and passive resistance are, in Liberty’s hands, weapons more deadly to tyranny than any others that I uphold them, and it is because brute force strengthens tyranny that I condemn it. War and authority are companions; peace and liberty are companions. The methods and necessities of war involve arbitrary discipline and dictatorship. So-called ‘war measures’ are almost always violations of rights. Even war for liberty is sure to breed the spirit of authority, with aftereffects unforeseen and incalculable.” And we saw that barely a year after our imaginary revolution was won.
So I suggest, in our new world, we throw off the shackles of war and authority over our neighbors. I propose we offer each other only love, peace and the liberty to be different from one another — making this offer even to our adversaries, even to those we have considered or may still consider to be our enemies.
If returning hatred with kindness still makes you uneasy even after the victory we won with our nonviolent revolution, think of what an ancient writer suggested: “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals [of shame] on his head.” Your love will pain him more than your hatred ever would.
Don’t waste time rewarding hate with hate. If someone wants to hate you, well, fine, you have no control over that anyway — but you do have control over how you react to that hate. If you choose love, you shame your enemy and perhaps, perhaps, you turn an enemy into a friend someday.
Interact with love, not force or violence. You make no friends by force or violence; coercion can only silence your enemies, it will not convert them. A dead enemy, or a vanquished enemy staring at you with pure hatred and waiting for a chance to return violence with violence, is still an enemy. Only love can make a friend; it is that much more powerful than hate.
Give more than you receive. Bakers have always understood this. When someone asks for a dozen, the baker gives 13. When someone asks you for a favor, give two. The more you give, the more you will receive back, because it’s basic to our nature to want to return a kindness. But don’t give more because you expect something back; give more than you receive because you love your neighbor.
Love your neighbor as yourself. Interact with love, not force or violence. Give more than you receive.
I’m not telling you to do this. If I force you to abide by these tenets but you don’t believe them, it is just another imaginary revolution. I propose no new government to enforce these principles, because government is an instrument of force (the word is “enforce,” after all, isn’t it?)
Let’s build a world on these principles. I firmly believe this is the best and most proper way to ensure our common wealth in this incredible place where our great-grandparents sought to start a new corner of civilization in the universe.
This is the place where the great political orators would say something like “History will say this is the day when the Commonwealth of Sirius 4 took its first great step forward.” But although I am a historian by profession, I’m not terribly interested in history except not repeat its worst mistakes. I know I can’t control what future historians will say about this day, although I do hope they take note that it was a beautiful day filled with sunshine.
All that I can control are my own actions right here, and right now. And right here and now, I pledge that I will continue to live by these tenets. As sure as the three tenets of imaginary physics enabled us to travel vast distances faster than we ever believed possible, I think these three tenets will enable us to live and thrive more quickly than we imagined.
So I pledge I will love my neighbor as myself. I will interact with love. And I will give more than I receive. Let’s make that the foundation of our commonwealth.
Entry 28. Licenses and fees
It is customary on giving a speech to open by listing all of the titles in the audience. You know, “Friends, Romans, countrymen,” or “members of Congress, senators, Supreme Court justices, distinguished guests and last but not least, citizens of this great nation.” Or some such.
And so let me begin with the only title that makes sense in this new commonwealth adventure that we embark upon today:
Friends.
Our planet has been through a few changes since it was first colonized these 147 years ago. The encampment became a settlement, and the settlement became an important base of operations for humanity’s exploration of the stars.
With the importance of the colony came a certain desire to control the colonists. But colonists by nature contain a certain will and independence, and we strained at the bit of governance. Just shy of a decade ago, long after the control became a tyranny too much to bear, the free and independent state of Sirius IV was declared, and we were forced into a revolution of blood to secure that freedom. My lifelong friend Badiah Sinclair was the leader of that revolution, and he was the natural choice to lead our new civilization.
However. A wise and ancient song about revolution concludes with the ominous words, “Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.” As glorious and welcome as our newfound freedom was, the truth about violence is that it can only beget violence. Badi Sinclair led our new government the only way he understood how to govern: by force. An all-too-familiar pattern emerged: For the greater good, liberty had to be restrained. Somehow the fruits of those who rule for the greater good are not always, well, very good.
It was an imaginary revolution. All we had succeeded in doing was to install a new boss who was, in too many ways, the same as the old boss. We soon needed a new revolution, a revolution befitting the reality of Sirius IV: We are 8.6 light years away from the governments that rule Earth, and we need to be light years away from the violent tyrannies that have dominated over the centuries 8.6 light years away.
We had a chance to re-establish the ways that human beings interact, reflecting the independent and pioneering spirit that brought us here. We depend upon each other, but we respect and trust each other, too. The creed that I suggested has served us well so far — it led us to this moment, today — although I must concede that we have only just begun.
But let us embark on a bold experiment in humanity based on these tenets: Love your neighbor as yourself. Interact with love, not force or violence. Give more than you receive.
Love your neighbor. A simple concept that somehow remains revolutionary millenia after it was first said. Perhaps it’s because of the first corrolary of that concept: The person you consider your enemy is also your neighbor.
Way back on planet Earth, in the year 1886, a very wise man named Benjamin Tucker put it this way: “It is because peaceful agitation and passive resistance are, in Liberty’s hands, weapons more deadly to tyranny than any others that I uphold them, and it is because brute force strengthens tyranny that I condemn it. War and authority are companions; peace and liberty are companions. The methods and necessities of war involve arbitrary discipline and dictatorship. So-called ‘war measures’ are almost always violations of rights. Even war for liberty is sure to breed the spirit of authority, with aftereffects unforeseen and incalculable.” And we saw that barely a year after our imaginary revolution was won.
So I suggest, in our new world, we throw off the shackles of war and authority over our neighbors. I propose we offer each other only love, peace and the liberty to be different from one another — making this offer even to our adversaries, even to those we have considered or may still consider to be our enemies.
If returning hatred with kindness still makes you uneasy even after the victory we won with our nonviolent revolution, think of what an ancient writer suggested: “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals [of shame] on his head.” Your love will pain him more than your hatred ever would.
Don’t waste time rewarding hate with hate. If someone wants to hate you, well, fine, you have no control over that anyway — but you do have control over how you react to that hate. If you choose love, you shame your enemy and perhaps, perhaps, you turn an enemy into a friend someday.
Interact with love, not force or violence. You make no friends by force or violence; coercion can only silence your enemies, it will not convert them. A dead enemy, or a vanquished enemy staring at you with pure hatred and waiting for a chance to return violence with violence, is still an enemy. Only love can make a friend; it is that much more powerful than hate.
Give more than you receive. Bakers have always understood this. When someone asks for a dozen, the baker gives 13. When someone asks you for a favor, give two. The more you give, the more you will receive back, because it’s basic to our nature to want to return a kindness. But don’t give more because you expect something back; give more than you receive because you love your neighbor.
Love your neighbor as yourself. Interact with love, not force or violence. Give more than you receive.
I’m not telling you to do this. If I force you to abide by these tenets but you don’t believe them, it is just another imaginary revolution. I propose no new government to enforce these principles, because government is an instrument of force (the word is “enforce,” after all, isn’t it?)
Let’s build a world on these principles. I firmly believe this is the best and most proper way to ensure our common wealth in this incredible place where our great-grandparents sought to start a new corner of civilization in the universe.
This is the place where the great political orators would say something like “History will say this is the day when the Commonwealth of Sirius 4 took its first great step forward.” But although I am a historian by profession, I’m not terribly interested in history except not repeat its worst mistakes. I know I can’t control what future historians will say about this day, although I do hope they take note that it was a beautiful day filled with sunshine.
All that I can control are my own actions right here, and right now. And right here and now, I pledge that I will continue to live by these tenets. As sure as the three tenets of imaginary physics enabled us to travel vast distances faster than we ever believed possible, I think these three tenets will enable us to live and thrive more quickly than we imagined.
So I pledge I will love my neighbor as myself. I will interact with love. And I will give more than I receive. Let’s make that the foundation of our commonwealth.
Entry 28. Licenses and fees
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Entry 27. Buffalo on the beach
I wrote two days ago of walking along the beach where Buffalo and I first kissed and spent many wonderful days together. I am aware that I haven’t yet recorded the circumstances of that first kiss.
It’s an odd tradition, this writing of memoirs. My public actions comprise the reason why anyone might care that I tell my life story, and yet the reader feels cheated if the memoir doesn’t delve into my private life.
Not that I don’t understand or acknowledge the connection. We are not compartmentalized machines; we are unique and whole individuals. The face we present in public is the same face that stares us in the mirror in the privacy of our homes; our soul does not change between public arena and private quarters.
I, Raymond Douglas Kaliber, would not be “The” Raymond Douglas Kaliber without the remarkable human being named Buffalo Springsteen, her insights and encouragement – as well as the many ways she touched my heart that will always remain private, obligation to the reader be damned, thank you.
But there came a time when the need to kiss those beautiful lips could no longer remain unfulfilled, and I love to share this part of our story, so:
A few weeks had gone by since the day she first said, “I’d love to,” before I’d had a chance to invite her out. Our times together had been stimulating and fun and challenging. This was not even the first time we had walked along that beach, but something felt different this day – different, and yet as familiar as my very life.
I often feel a special sense of peace along that beach near the oxygen generator. A vast machine designed to create just the right mix of oxygen and nitrogen to sustain human life, the imagination-fueled generator can have an intoxicating effect if you wander too close. Perhaps that is the biochemical explanation why I felt an inordinate joy walking next to this woman: The additional jolt of oxygen simply made me more receptive to the pheromones she was discharging in my direction.
Or perhaps it was the visual clues of the spark in her eyes or the glint of the red shining sun off her scarlet-tinged hair. Or the way she laughed at my feeble attempts at humor. Or the part of her lips.
Oh, we had kissed before – a little peck at the end of a day or evening together. But this moment, we wanted to drink of that wine more deeply. Something in the moment, the look in her eyes, what we had been saying to each other, just said, “Now.”
I’d love to tell you exactly what clever things we had been saying to each other that made the moment right. I’d love to explain how the tilt of her head gave me permission to let my lips linger and press harder against hers. Truth be told, the only thing I remember about the moment is the sense of certainty that this was the time when we were to become something other than teacher and student, something other than friends or colleagues, something more like one soul, one flesh.
And so it was. Everything changed in that moment, and yet everything had always been this way. I have no memory of living apart from Buffalo Springsteen, and yet I have plenty of memories from a time before that moment. It’s just I can no longer imagine a time when I was not a part of her, and she a part of me.
I never again needed to imagine what freedom feels like.
Special entry: Independence Day
It’s an odd tradition, this writing of memoirs. My public actions comprise the reason why anyone might care that I tell my life story, and yet the reader feels cheated if the memoir doesn’t delve into my private life.
Not that I don’t understand or acknowledge the connection. We are not compartmentalized machines; we are unique and whole individuals. The face we present in public is the same face that stares us in the mirror in the privacy of our homes; our soul does not change between public arena and private quarters.
I, Raymond Douglas Kaliber, would not be “The” Raymond Douglas Kaliber without the remarkable human being named Buffalo Springsteen, her insights and encouragement – as well as the many ways she touched my heart that will always remain private, obligation to the reader be damned, thank you.
But there came a time when the need to kiss those beautiful lips could no longer remain unfulfilled, and I love to share this part of our story, so:
A few weeks had gone by since the day she first said, “I’d love to,” before I’d had a chance to invite her out. Our times together had been stimulating and fun and challenging. This was not even the first time we had walked along that beach, but something felt different this day – different, and yet as familiar as my very life.
I often feel a special sense of peace along that beach near the oxygen generator. A vast machine designed to create just the right mix of oxygen and nitrogen to sustain human life, the imagination-fueled generator can have an intoxicating effect if you wander too close. Perhaps that is the biochemical explanation why I felt an inordinate joy walking next to this woman: The additional jolt of oxygen simply made me more receptive to the pheromones she was discharging in my direction.
Or perhaps it was the visual clues of the spark in her eyes or the glint of the red shining sun off her scarlet-tinged hair. Or the way she laughed at my feeble attempts at humor. Or the part of her lips.
Oh, we had kissed before – a little peck at the end of a day or evening together. But this moment, we wanted to drink of that wine more deeply. Something in the moment, the look in her eyes, what we had been saying to each other, just said, “Now.”
I’d love to tell you exactly what clever things we had been saying to each other that made the moment right. I’d love to explain how the tilt of her head gave me permission to let my lips linger and press harder against hers. Truth be told, the only thing I remember about the moment is the sense of certainty that this was the time when we were to become something other than teacher and student, something other than friends or colleagues, something more like one soul, one flesh.
And so it was. Everything changed in that moment, and yet everything had always been this way. I have no memory of living apart from Buffalo Springsteen, and yet I have plenty of memories from a time before that moment. It’s just I can no longer imagine a time when I was not a part of her, and she a part of me.
I never again needed to imagine what freedom feels like.
Special entry: Independence Day
Monday, July 2, 2012
Entry 26. The peacekeepers settle in
The ImagDrive enabled the colonization of Sirius 4 by making the voyage last not much longer than a summer day trip. You load up the kids and the car, drive for a few hours, and it seems like you’re in a whole different world. Same concept, only literally true.
Unfortunately, it also proved very convenient for sending an occupational force: Pack up the troops, the guns and enough ImagPro to manufacture a few meals, and you’ll be on Sirius 4 before the least patient soldier starts wondering, “Are we there yet?” From a tactical point of view, it’s the closest thing you can get to an element of surprise in this era of instant communication.
The people of Sirius 4 were caught completely off guard by the arrival of peacekeepers from Earth. I’m told President Badiah Sinclair stood proud and defiant as the command ship eased into its landing bay at the Sirius 4 airport.
And he stood in the way of the tall, compactly built soldier with steel-colored hair who was first to emerge from the ship.
“What is the meaning of this?” Badiah said with all of the outrage he could muster – and my old friend could muster quite a lot of outrage. “Who are you? Why are you here?”
“Lt. Joshua True,” the tall, compactly built soldier said by way of introduction. His eyes pierced Sinclair’s matching intensity with intensity. “We are here to keep the peace. And I am here, specifically, to place you under arrest, Senator Sinclair.”
“His title is President Sinclair,” an aide blustered behind Badiah.
“There are no presidents here; the president of Sirius 4 is safe on Earth,” True snapped. “Your little game of independence is at an end.”
The steely voice matched the silver hair. True had been a cruelly efficient but anonymous Special Forces lieutenant who got the job done quietly and without fanfare. Now he was the well-known leader of the squad that had failed to stop the terrorists in time to save the moon from being dissolved.
That experience had made the man even more ruthless. At first we wondered why someone who had failed so spectacularly would immediately be put to work leading the occupation. We did not wonder long.
Lt. True would address the planet later that evening. Earth wished it had other alternatives than to send a military presence, but people were just not being reasonable these days. Light years away from Earth, from the roots of civilization, human beings needed a link to the traditional authority on which we depended to maintain order. The alternative was anarchy and chaos. This was not the American Wild West of Earth history; this was an outpost of humanity.
And from that moment on, Sirius 4 would resume its place as a proud outpost of the Earthian government.
At least, that was the plan.
Entry 27. Buffalo on the beach
Unfortunately, it also proved very convenient for sending an occupational force: Pack up the troops, the guns and enough ImagPro to manufacture a few meals, and you’ll be on Sirius 4 before the least patient soldier starts wondering, “Are we there yet?” From a tactical point of view, it’s the closest thing you can get to an element of surprise in this era of instant communication.
The people of Sirius 4 were caught completely off guard by the arrival of peacekeepers from Earth. I’m told President Badiah Sinclair stood proud and defiant as the command ship eased into its landing bay at the Sirius 4 airport.
And he stood in the way of the tall, compactly built soldier with steel-colored hair who was first to emerge from the ship.
“What is the meaning of this?” Badiah said with all of the outrage he could muster – and my old friend could muster quite a lot of outrage. “Who are you? Why are you here?”
“Lt. Joshua True,” the tall, compactly built soldier said by way of introduction. His eyes pierced Sinclair’s matching intensity with intensity. “We are here to keep the peace. And I am here, specifically, to place you under arrest, Senator Sinclair.”
“His title is President Sinclair,” an aide blustered behind Badiah.
“There are no presidents here; the president of Sirius 4 is safe on Earth,” True snapped. “Your little game of independence is at an end.”
The steely voice matched the silver hair. True had been a cruelly efficient but anonymous Special Forces lieutenant who got the job done quietly and without fanfare. Now he was the well-known leader of the squad that had failed to stop the terrorists in time to save the moon from being dissolved.
That experience had made the man even more ruthless. At first we wondered why someone who had failed so spectacularly would immediately be put to work leading the occupation. We did not wonder long.
Lt. True would address the planet later that evening. Earth wished it had other alternatives than to send a military presence, but people were just not being reasonable these days. Light years away from Earth, from the roots of civilization, human beings needed a link to the traditional authority on which we depended to maintain order. The alternative was anarchy and chaos. This was not the American Wild West of Earth history; this was an outpost of humanity.
And from that moment on, Sirius 4 would resume its place as a proud outpost of the Earthian government.
At least, that was the plan.
Entry 27. Buffalo on the beach
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Entry 25. The day of the I-bomb
[EDITOR'S NOTE: To purchase a fictionalized account of the events told in this entry, click here.]
Earth’s moon, I’m told, just dissolved, quietly and without fanfare. It wasn’t the sudden burst of energy we have always associated with a bomb exploding; it just dismantled itself into dust. Then gravity and centrifugal force took over and Earth became the fifth planet in its solar system with rings.
We’ve often speculated what the official explanation would have been in the absence of the direct warning from the “terrorist” who set off the imaginary bomb. And we’ve often shuddered when we reflect on the original purpose the bomb was expected to serve.
We happened to be watching an ancient film on a feed from Earth that day when the stream was interrupted.
Instead of the conclusion to a 300-year-old movie, we saw an earnest-looking young man, later identified as Walter Ellis, walking down a corridor backwards and talking to us about, well, something unimaginable.
“We regret this interruption, but there is something the Earth must know,” he said, slowly but urgently. “Our governments, in cooperation with ImagCorp, have perfected the technology to create an imaginary bomb. This device is capable of more destruction than any weapon in our history. We who love peace have been unable to stop the development of this bomb by conventional means, so we’re forced to take desperate measures.
“Look to the moon, and let no one cover up the truth about what is about to happen,” he said. “Watch the moon, and when this is over, turn to peace from this day forward.”
And a short time later, the moon dissolved. We were told Ellis was a terrorist, killed in the process of setting off the imaginary bomb, and at least one of his accomplices had been arrested.
It came out sometime later that the original target was not the moon, that Ellis had stolen the ignition disk for the bomb from the government, and that the authorities intended to test the bomb on Sirius 5 as a warning to those of us who had declared independence.
The warning would be more terrifying than any terrorist could imagine: “We have the power to destroy your so-called independent world. Abandon your quixotic endeavor, or feel the power of the imaginary bomb.” Would the government and ImagCorp really take the next step of dissolving our home world, quietly and without fanfare? It seemed unthinkable.
But we had little time to think. Two days after the news of the Sirius 5 plot surfaced, the peacekeepers’ ships arrived.
I was walking with Buffalo on the same beach where I had formed the response to her challenge about my nonviolent creed, the same beach where we first kissed, the beach where the venerable old oxygen generator loomed in the distance. Until that moment it had always been a place of peaceful contemplation.
We noticed an odd and growing whine from the sky. Buffalo saw them first, and her face shaped itself into an expression that mingled surprise, anger, disgust and a few other emotions that weren’t immediately clear.
As if on cue, a huge space ship buzzed overhead, emblazoned with the insignia of the Earth government. And then another passed over, and another and another and another.
All we could do is stare grimly at the several dozen military interstellar transport vessels with their oddly inappropriate mosquito-like whines. As the last one passed overhead, I looked down and spat out the only word my mind could find.
“Bastards!”
Entry 26. The peacekeepers settle in
Earth’s moon, I’m told, just dissolved, quietly and without fanfare. It wasn’t the sudden burst of energy we have always associated with a bomb exploding; it just dismantled itself into dust. Then gravity and centrifugal force took over and Earth became the fifth planet in its solar system with rings.
We happened to be watching an ancient film on a feed from Earth that day when the stream was interrupted.
Instead of the conclusion to a 300-year-old movie, we saw an earnest-looking young man, later identified as Walter Ellis, walking down a corridor backwards and talking to us about, well, something unimaginable.
“We regret this interruption, but there is something the Earth must know,” he said, slowly but urgently. “Our governments, in cooperation with ImagCorp, have perfected the technology to create an imaginary bomb. This device is capable of more destruction than any weapon in our history. We who love peace have been unable to stop the development of this bomb by conventional means, so we’re forced to take desperate measures.
“Look to the moon, and let no one cover up the truth about what is about to happen,” he said. “Watch the moon, and when this is over, turn to peace from this day forward.”
And a short time later, the moon dissolved. We were told Ellis was a terrorist, killed in the process of setting off the imaginary bomb, and at least one of his accomplices had been arrested.
It came out sometime later that the original target was not the moon, that Ellis had stolen the ignition disk for the bomb from the government, and that the authorities intended to test the bomb on Sirius 5 as a warning to those of us who had declared independence.
The warning would be more terrifying than any terrorist could imagine: “We have the power to destroy your so-called independent world. Abandon your quixotic endeavor, or feel the power of the imaginary bomb.” Would the government and ImagCorp really take the next step of dissolving our home world, quietly and without fanfare? It seemed unthinkable.
But we had little time to think. Two days after the news of the Sirius 5 plot surfaced, the peacekeepers’ ships arrived.
I was walking with Buffalo on the same beach where I had formed the response to her challenge about my nonviolent creed, the same beach where we first kissed, the beach where the venerable old oxygen generator loomed in the distance. Until that moment it had always been a place of peaceful contemplation.
We noticed an odd and growing whine from the sky. Buffalo saw them first, and her face shaped itself into an expression that mingled surprise, anger, disgust and a few other emotions that weren’t immediately clear.
As if on cue, a huge space ship buzzed overhead, emblazoned with the insignia of the Earth government. And then another passed over, and another and another and another.
All we could do is stare grimly at the several dozen military interstellar transport vessels with their oddly inappropriate mosquito-like whines. As the last one passed overhead, I looked down and spat out the only word my mind could find.
“Bastards!”
Entry 26. The peacekeepers settle in
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