
Hardcore conservative purist, all the way!

Hardcore conservative purist, all the way!
What the government funds, it controls; and what it controls, it owns.
Edward Griffin, The Creature from Jekyll Island.
Here’s a fun and cheery blog post for you. Just for fun, let’s run down all of the ways in which the world might come to an end in the next 12 months, and assign probabilities to each one. I’m not sure what qualifies as “the end of the world,” but for our purposes let’s say it involves (1) a massive loss of human life, and (2) a permanent and irreversible change to global living standards and our way of life. Ready? Let’s go!
This is the one that everyone is talking about right now, what with the Russia-Ukraine war and the recklessness of Western powers in their support for it. Putin has formally annexed four occupied territories that are still under partial Ukrainian control, and now says that he will defend sovereign Russian territory with his country’s nuclear arsenal. With every possible offramp to the war now closed, it seems like it’s only a matter of time before someone uses a tactical nuke on the battlefield, and after that kind of an escalation, who knows what will happen next?
However, I actually think the probability of a nuclear armageddon in the next 12 months is actually quite low—not totally nonexistent, but still quite low. Putin is not the kind of politician to make tactical blunders, and that’s exactly what a nuclear strike would entail, especially given the current situation on the ground.
In a war of attrition between Russia and Ukraine, Russia wins. That’s true even with all of the weapons and material that we’re supplying to Ukraine. Furthermore, I suspect that Russia has a much stronger will to win this war than we do. With the energy crisis in Europe and all of the political discontent here in the US, I don’t see us continuing to write the Ukrainians a blank check for much longer. Also, Russia just destroyed a good chunk of Ukraine’s energy infrastructure in response to the Crimean bridge attack, which means that the average Ukrainian citizen is going to be in a world of hurt come winter.
It’s been very interesting to watch the progression of this war. In the runup to the war, the West mostly prepared Ukraine with cheap anti-air missiles, assuming that Russia would launch a shock-and-awe campaign, not a ground invasion. But Putin defied those expectations with the Special Military Operation, which consisted of a lightning strike on Kiev with his armored forces. However, once the Ukrainian resistance got going, it proved massively effective, thanks to the way the Javelin missile and other anti-tank weapons have altered the balance of war to favor defense over offense.
So Putin pulled back from Kiev, hunkered down in the occupied territories, and opted for a WWI-style artillery slugfest—in other words, a war of attrition. It’s unclear to me whether this has favored Russia or Ukraine. Most of the news that we hear comes from pro-Ukrainian sources, and claims that Russia is losing badly. But even though they’ve been able to retake some territory, they haven’t retaken any major occupied cities yet, and the figures on Ukrainian casualties are wildly different, depending on which source you check. I don’t think we’re getting the full story.
Now Putin has annexed the occupied territories, changing this from a Special Military Operation to something else entirely. At every step of the way, he’s been very gradual and methodical in his escalation, making sure that he has the legal justification first (even if it’s no more than a fig leaf) before taking the next step. Whether you support him or think he’s the anti-Christ, there is definitely a method to his madness.
In response to the destruction of the Nord Stream pipelines and the attack on the Crimean bridge, he’s been using cheap Iranian drones to destroy Ukraine’s critical energy infrastructure—and once again, we see how the nature of war has changed. Those drones are relatively cheap, but the anti-air defenses are hideously expensive, and they haven’t been able to stop every drone. Just like the Javelin missile favored the defenders, these drones appear to favor the invaders.
Putin’s best move at this point is to wait out his enemies, since they’re already showing signs of cracking. Europe is in a major energy crisis now, and the Prime Minister of the UK just resigned after less than two months. Biden isn’t doing much better, with the midterms shaping up to be a major red wave, and inflation is running dangerously hot across the entire West. For all of Biden’s talk about a “dark winter” last year, it appears that this year we’re actually going to get it—and a lot of that can be traced directly back to the Russia-Ukraine war.
So no, I don’t think there’s a very high chance that this war is going to escalate to a global nuclear conflict in the next twelve months.
But a major global cyberwar is a much different story. Putin is on record saying that the next global war will be fought with 1s and 0s, and it would be foolish not to believe he hasn’t prepared for that. Same with us here in the West.

In fact, we may already be witnessing the beginnings of such a cyberwar. A week ago, a Russian jet slammed into a large residential building shortly after takeoff, and just this morning an F35 crashed out here in Utah. Could just be coincidence, as well as human error and/or mechanical failure—but it could also be true that these systems got hacked by hostile nation-state actors. If it is, I suppose we’ll never know for sure.
It makes a lot of sense to me that this conflict would escalate to a global cyberwar before it escalates to a global kinetic conflict. And if/when it does, energy infrastructure will be a major target. If so, it could get really, really ugly. The sources I follow estimate that we could see a 90% death rate after just two months of no power.
But again, I think Putin’s best move is to wait out his enemies and not show all his cards yet. We will amost certainly see limited cyberattacks, but a major global free-for-all? In my estimation, that’s unlikely, at least in the next twelve months. And even if it did happen, our power grid is so convoluted and Byzantine that I doubt that any nation state could knock it out 100% for a long period of time. It’s not a great defense against this sort of thing, but it does tend to work in our favor.
This is a big one. We’re already seeing a lot of warning signs pointing to major food shortages, with major droughts in North America, Europe, and Asia, energy and fertilizer costs at unthinkable levels, green public policies in places like The Netherlands that are just insane, and supply chains that are still incredibly bungled from the last pandemic. Global food prices are already going parabolic, and countries like Sri Lanka and Haiti are collapsing as a result.
I think this is a much greater immediate threat than some sort of global war. Every civilization is only three meals away from collapse. With that said, I’m not so sure it will be world-ending, at least in the immediate term. World-shattering? Yes. But the collapse is always distributed unevenly, and there’s still a lot of ruin left in the developed portions of the world, so I’m still pretty sanguine that we’ll find some way to muddle through this crisis, at least for the next twelve months.
As I mentioned above, the emerging global famine is already leading to popular uprisings in places like Sri Lanka and Haiti. I definitely think that trend is going to continue. But a lot of the unrest in the developed world is due to political instability that was already evident before the pandemic. Just look at the Yellow Vest movement in France, or the BLM and MAGA movements in the United States. Since the pandemic, those movements have only become more brazen, more entrenched, and more resolved.
Could we see an actual revolution in a major developed country, like the Bolshevik revolution in 20th century Russia, or the French revolution in 18th century France? I don’t think that’s beyond the realm of possibility. However, will we see such a revolution in the next 12 months? That’s a different story. Personally, I think the likelihood of such a thing is low, but that may just be my ignorance and normalacy bias speaking.
Here in the US, I think that the ruling Democratic party is going to get a truly historic spanking in November, which will go a long way to appeasing the popular discontent—at least in the short term. But I don’t think the Republicans are going to do any of the things that the people expect them to do, and long-term that will make the unrest that much worse. I doubt that it’s going to boil over in the next twelve months, but it could.
There are a lot of reasons to think that we’re on the verge of experiencing a hyperinflationary event here in the US. The Fed exploded the money supply during the pandemic, which is we we’re currently experiencing such high inflation, and when you consider that velocity is at or near record lows, there is a lot of room for inflation to get much worse. Moreover, our glorious leaders seem determined to spend their way out of this problem, in much the same way that an alcoholic drinks himself out of a hangover.
But by far, the biggest and most dangerous factor is the collapse of the US dollar as the world’s reserve currency. If/when that happens, I frankly would be shocked if we didn’t experience a hyperinflationary collapse. Right now, the dollar is still the fastest fat man in the zombie apocalypse, but the Russia-Ukraine war is bringing a lot of countries together that would love to negotiate their trade deals in something other than US dollars. Not just minor countries either, but countries like China and Russia. Youch.
This isn’t something that came on us suddenly. In the past couple of decades, there have been a lot of red flags pointing to the end of the US dollar as the world’s reserve currency. The pandemic and subsequent events have accelerated those trends, and probably shortened the timeline of the collapse considerably.
But will we see a hyperinflationary collapse in the next twelve months? I’m skeptical of that. Right now, the dollar is strengthening against most other currencies, and I don’t see any other currency challenging ours for reserve currency status in the immediate future. Like I said above, we’re still the fastest fat man in the zombie apocalypse.
If the coming global famine is going to be Earth-shattering, the secondary effects of that famine are going to be even worse. Like I mentioned above, Haiti and Sri Lanka are already in a state of collapse due to civil unrest, and global food prices have already exceeded the levels that gave us the Arab Spring. We’re probably not all going to starve, but enough of us very well might that the ensuring chaos will make the European refugee crisis of the 2010s and the current situation on the US southern border look like a dress rehearsal.
Again, the main reason I place this one at 15% is because I think it’s going to take some time for this one to really get going, and I’m skeptical that a twelve-month timeline is long enough for it to bring about the end of the world. But once this crisis does get going, it’s going to be ugly.
Until last week, I placed the likelihood of this event happening at about the same level as a global nuclear war. But then I learned about the research at Boston University that was totally not gain of function, and managed to create a new strain of covid that was more transmissable than the Omicron variant and has a 80% fatality rate in experimental mice.
What the hell, you lab coat freaks? Do you WANT to kill us all? (No… please don’t answer that question.)
From what I understand, it wasn’t difficult to creat this new strain either. All they did was take the original alpha variant of covid-19 and splice it with the spike protein from the omicron variant. The alpha variant is now all but extinct in the wild, but if BU had managed to keep a sample, I’m sure that many others have too.
And exactly what is keeping some black hat actor from replicating this research and launching a second pandemic?
Even if the death rate in humans is only a fraction of what it was in the mice, that’s still a virus with an R0 at or near the omicron variant AND A MORTALITY RATE COMPARABLE TO THE BLACK DEATH. And now anyone with a halfway decent microbiology lab and a couple of covid samples can now create this insanely dangerous plague.
Given that this is a thing now, I would be extremely surprised if there isn’t another covid (or other artificially engineered) pandemic within my lifetime. Except that the next pandemic is going to be real, in a way that 2020 wasn’t. Seriously, when historians look back on this era, they probably won’t even look at 2020 as an historically significant year.
The only reason I’m putting this at 35% is because of timing. Will the black hat actor who concocts this plague decide to release it in the next year, or wait until conditions are more favorable for whatever agenda they want to push? Difficult to say. The likelihood is far greater than I would like, but I hope it’s no greater than 35%.
But of all the possible calamaties that could bring about the end of the world, the one that I most expect to see within the next 12 months is the collapse of the global debt market and a major financial crisis, even bigger than 2008. Much bigger, in fact, because we never actually solved any of the problems that gave us the GFC: we just papered over them and kicked the can down the road.
Well, it looks like we’ve just reached the end of the road. I can’t pretend to understand the financial markets in any sort of depth, but all of my sources—including folks who correctly called several false alarms in the past few years—are now saying that the big one is imminent. And when you look at what the US10Y is doing, or at how insanely inverted the yield curve is inverted, and realize that the debt bubble is orders of magnitude worse than 2008… yeah, that’s a big deal.
But would it truly bring about the end of the world as we know it? Well, consider this: what would you do if all of the banks closed, all of their websites went down, and you couldn’t use your debit or credit cards, or transfer cash into or out of your account, or even log into your account, or any financial account for that matter? What would happen if everyone on welfare suddenly found that their EBT cards didn’t work? If every employer suddenly found that they couldn’t make payroll? If the only thing left was cash, but none of the banks were open to disburse it?
That’s the sort of thing that would happen under this scenario. It might sound far-fetched, until you realize that it’s happened before. This exact thing played out in Cyprus a few years ago, and when the banks opened again, people were only allowed to withdraw something like a hundred Euros a day. It paralyzed everything.
Whenever there’s a major financial collapse, all of the big players get together in a smoke-filled room, lock the doors so no one can get out, and fight amongst themselves until they come up with a solution. “You bail out these institutions, I’ll bail out these ones, we’ll all take a 20% haircut, and the markets reopen at the end of the week.” Something like that. The last time this happened was 2008, and we were only hours away from a global banking holiday like the one I just described.
What happens if they can’t find a solution in time?
And even if they do, it’s not like there isn’t going to be any pain. Remember how bad the 2008 collapse was? That’s what happens when they find a solution—except this time, the underlying crisis has grown orders of magnitude larger, because we never actually solved it. We just papered over the problem instead.
I’m not an expert on this sort of thing, so the reason I’m pegging this one at 80% is because I’m a firm believer in the Pareto principle, and I don’t see any way that the status quo endures for another 12 months without a major catastrophe. Maybe the next financial collapse won’t be the end of the world, but given how unstable everything is right now, I don’t see it.
There is, however, one potential catastrophe that I can confidently peg at a 0% chance of ending the world in the next twelve months: climate change. It’s not a coincidence that this is also the one that’s probably eliciting the most panic right now. When the herd is all running mindlessly in one direction, it’s probably a good idea to stop and make sure there isn’t an abattoir up ahead.
Is the climate changing? Yes, as it always has. Is climate change man-made? Unclear. Is it changing catastrophically? Also unclear. Will we experience a catastrophic collapse of the global climate in the next twelve months? Let’s put it this way: climate activists have been warning us about an imminent catastrophe for 50+ years now, and the only people with a worse prediction track record are the ones who say “Jesus is coming on [insert date here].”
I would be a lot more inclined to listen to the activists if they didn’t all categorically reject the market-based solutions that have the best historical track record to reducing emissions and cleaning the environment. I would also be more inclined to listen to them if they weren’t so dead set against nuclear power, or if they were honest about the fact that drastic cuts to global energy production will lead directly to the deaths of many millions of people, especially in poor and developing countries.
When you combine that with how the all of the people who are most outspoken about climate change also fly to their conferences on private jets, have massive carbon footprints, and are buying beachfront property across the world, their hypocrisy speaks louder than their words. And as if that’s not enough, you have Project Veritas catching a major CNN executive on hidden camera confessing to how they plan to push climate change as the Next Big Thing after the pandemic is done.
So no, I don’t ascribe any credibility to the climate change hysteria that seems to have gripped the science fiction field. Twelve months from now, I guarantee that we will still have a human-habitable climate on this planet—unless the meteor finally kills us all.
Of course, I’m just a guy on the internet who follows this stuff for fun and uses it to write science fiction. I also have a political science degree, but don’t hold that against me, as I’ve been doing my best to unlearn all of that crap. But yeah: if the world does end in the next twelve months, I think the most likely scenario is a total collapse of the entire global financial system, followed by a second pandemic. It’s not as bright or as flashy as a nuclear war, but that’s where I’d put my money if I were a betting man.
In 2014, after being active on Facebook for eight years–the majority of my young adult life–I bit the bullet and deleted my account. I did it over the original Edward Snowden revelations, because I was genuinely disturbed with the connections between Facebook and the US intelligence community, and did not want to trust Zuckerberg or his company with any of my private data.
Very quickly, I learned just how difficult it was to function in today’s society outside of Facebook. Not only was I effectively cut off from all of my friends who were no longer living in close proximity to me, but I was also cut off from many of the social events among my current set of friends, because all of their activities were organized through Facebook. This made it almost impossible to meet new people, even through my existing social circles, so after a couple of years I bit the bullet again and made a new Facebook account.
To make a long story short, I got so disgusted with Facebook that I deleted my account again, then moved across the country where I was even more socially isolated and made a new account. With each iteration, I experienced with different rules, such as not friending anyone but family, not liking anything, turning off chat, etc. In 2018, I met my wife through an online dating app, married her in 2019, and promptly deleted both my dating profile and my third Facebook account.
In the interest of full disclosure, I have since created a fourth Facebook account, but only to access various writer groups like 20 Books to 50k and Wide for the Win. In the old days, we would organize on message board sites like KBoards, but now it’s all on Facebook, and if you’re not on Facebook, you’re basically cut off from the rest of the indie publishing world. I don’t like it, but that’s the way it is. So the way I use Facebook now, I only log in via an incognito browser, and I don’t post anything on my profile except the bare minimum of what Facebook requires. No friends. No likes. No news feed. I have, in fact, had my posts flagged for coming from a scam account, which I find almost as hilarious as the people the Facebook algorithm recommends to me as “friends.” Most of them don’t appear to speak English.
With Twitter, it was a totally different story. I created my account in 2009, got addicted to it for a while, then realized in 2016 that it was getting pretty toxic and deleted my account a couple of months before Trump was elected president. One of the top 10 best decisions of my life. I haven’t looked back since.
Right now, the only social media that I use consistently is my blog–and I’m not even super consistent with that. I do follow an eclectic mix of YouTube channels, but not via YouTube itself: instead, I plug in all the RSS feeds into a web-based aggregator. Helps me to avoid the YouTube recommendation algorithm, which can be super addictive. I used to be active on Goodreads, but I’m not anymore, just because I don’t want a bad review or a comment on somebody else’s book/review to spiral into something that could hurt my career. But even if writing wasn’t my career, I still wouldn’t use it to follow anyone except for a handful of close and trusted friends.
Living without social media for the last few years has given me an interesting, and perhaps somewhat unique, perspective on culture and society. In a lot of ways, it makes me feel like I’m on the outside looking in, which helps to write stories that are counter-cultural or otherwise serve as tales of warning. It’s also helped me to avoid a lot of the depression, anxiety, dysphoria, and outrage that characterize so much of today’s society.
On the other hand, it’s also been a real handicap when it comes to marketing my books. So in the next few months, I plan to expand my internet presence and experiment a bit with social media, joining some new communities and hopefully putting myself (and my books) in front of new people. But I don’t want to get dragged into all of the toxicity that’s out there, or to become addicted again.
So in the interest of avoiding all that, I thought it would be a good idea to take some time and write down some of the lessons I’ve learned from living without social media, specifically with what we (and by we, I mean I) can take from those lessons to use social media in a more healthy way.
This was perhaps the biggest thing I noticed immediately after I deleted my Facebook and Twitter: the silence. No more buzzing phone. No more compulsion to pick up a device, or sit down at the computer and log back in. No more sense that I was tethered to my online persona, which I had to constantly maintain.
It was so incredibly liberating.
The closest thing I’d experienced before this was living in the Republic of Georgia, where the only way to get internet access was to walk to the village center, wait half an hour for an old VW bus to come through, ride that bus for another half hour to the nearest city, then walk to McDonalds and buy a cheeseburger or an ice cream so I could sit by the window and use the internet for a couple of hours. Honestly, I think that experience did a lot to prepare me to cut the cord, but it was still always there in the back of my mind, even when I was back in the village, helping out around the farm with chores.
With push notifications, though, that tether is right there in your pocket, and never very far from your mind. It’s like you exist in a quantum state, never fully present in the real world, and never fully disconnected from the online world either. It’s very addicting.
And honestly, why do you need any mobile notifications at all? Why can’t you leave everything on MyFaceTwit alone until the next time you’re ready to move on? Do you answer every phone call? Respond to every text in real time as you receive it? Why not take charge of your own social media usage and use it at your own leisure?
The first step to taking charge is to disable all push notifications, especially the ones on your phone. The only reason those exist is to make social media more addictive, and ensure that you’re never truly logged off. Don’t let them screw with you like that. Don’t let them turn you into a mere product to sell to advertisers. If you’re going to use social media, be mindful about it and use it on your own terms, not theirs. Disable all pubsh notifications.
The other way that social media companies addict you to their platform is by means of the “like” or “upvote” button. This is especially true for content that you produce. An entire generation of young women (and also young men, to a lesser extent) is now being shredded by this, because they’ve been raised to believe that their personal worth and value as a human being is connected to how many likes and upvotes they get. It’s insidious.
This is also, I believe, a large part of why freedom of speech is in such danger. It’s much easier to convince the rising generation that speech is violence and violence is speech, because whenever they get a downvote or a nasty comment, they feel like their worth as a person is under attack.
When it comes to comment sections, I’m a little more torn on this, because upvotes and downvotes can be a valid contribution to the discussion at hand. However, it can also become addicting, and I admit that on some occasions I’ve fallen into the mob mentality and said things that, taken out of context, probably look pretty bad. So even when it comes to comments sections, it’s probably best to avoid getting caught up in the upvote game, and to be a lot more sparing in giving out upvotes–or just not contribute that way at all.
This one is huge, especially for me. It’s a major reason why I don’t generally go onto YouTube anymore: because I don’t want to get caught up in clicking through the recommended videos. That way leads to hours of lost sleep and groggy mornings filled with regret.
Instead, I try to find an RSS feed and plug it into an aggregator. That way, no matter the social media site, I only see the things that are posted by the creators I follow. I also have a lot more control over the content that I assume, because a lot of these sites will actually bury content that they think you might not want to watch (or that they think you shouldn’t want to watch). With an aggregator, I see everything that gets posted, and can shoose which content I want to consume and which content I want to skip.
This does mean that from time to time, I need to cut some of my RSS feeds from my aggregator. Otherwise, the firehose of content can be overwhelming. Also, you have to give yourself permission to skip stuff, even if it’s stuff that you genuinely want to see. This happens all of the time with podcasts for me: I feel like I’m constantly “behind” on the things I want to listen to.
But in order to make time for better things, you sometimes have to cut out the merely good. Just be mindful about it, and don’t let some news feed or algorithm do it for you.
Before I deleted my first Facebook account, I went through a period where I was very disatisfied with my experience there. It seemed like a small handful of “friends” dominated every post and discussion. Invariably, these were “friends” with whom I shared only the most tenuous connection, for example that we’d been in a freshman college class together, or our moms had used to hang out all the time when we were five. These weren’t the people I wanted to stay in touch with 24/7, but they dominated all the feeds just because they posted so much more content than everyone else.
In 2012, I decided to experiment with deleting all but my closest friends, until I was down to the Dunbar number. What is the Dunbar number? It is the theoritical maximum size of a human society where everyone personally knows everyone else, and everyone knows how everyone else relates, individually, to everyone. It’s about 150-200.
As soon as I had my “friends” list down to about 200, I started to notice some changes. Instead of feeling like I had to ask “who is this person again?” with half of the things that got posted, I saw a lot more content from the people I genuinely cared about, and my Facebook experience improved dramatically. It was like I had taken the Marie Kondo approach to social media, which was difficult at the time, but actually made me feel much more meaningfully connected in the long run.
You can’t please everyone. You can’t write a book that everyone is going to like. Why should you try to get everyone to like you on social media? Cut out all of those connections that don’t actively bring you joy, and you’ll have a much more positive experience.
This is probably the biggest one of all. The reason social media is so toxic right now is because nothing is more addictive–and therefore, more likely to keep you engaging with someone else’s content or platform–than outrage. It doesn’t even matter if the outrage is righteous or not. If you are addicted to outrage, you are under someone else’s control, and are probably being exploited in order to sell advertising, or to push someone else’s agenda.
Ultimately, outrage leads to mass formation psychosis. Instead of feeling connected on a personal level with other people, you are connected to some sort of movement or leader, and possessed by an ideology. The end state of this is the tragic severing of even the most personal bonds, with brother taking up arm against brother, and father against son.
Outrage is poison, even when outrage is justified. Even Christ, when he overthrew the tables of the money changers, didn’t send his disciples to hunt them down, or go after their families. He chased them out of the temple, but He didn’t track them back to their homes. He gave them a sharp rebuke and let them go. Later, in His visit to the Americas, He taught that all contention is of the devil, and that His teaching was that such should be done away.
“Blessed are the peacemakers.” What a radical message. Be a peacemaker. Don’t succumb to outrage.
Back a few years ago when indie publishing was a new thing, I remember there was a blog that would take the worst self-published covers and make fun of them. It was a popular site for a while, though a lot of the indies whose covers were shamed didn’t think it was all that fun.
Thing is, it’s not just self-published books that have horrible covers. In fact, some of the worst covers probably came out of traditional publishing, partially because tradpub has simply been around longer, and partially because in tradpub, cover design is often done by a committee, as opposed to just one guy. And while it’s true that some people have a unique talent for creating some truly hideous art, the IQ of a committe is the lowest common denominator of all of its members, and if one of them happens to have that talent, God bless the poor author who got stuck with that cover art.
If you go back 50-60 years, you can find some truly hideous covers, especially in science fiction. Such as:

Ah, Farnham’s Freehold. Such an awesome book—one of my all-time favorite Heinlein novels—but such a terrible, terrible cover. What is that? A giant egg with some Salvador Dali clocks, and Polynesian war chief holding court in the lobby of the hotel from The Shining? Also, why is everything a hideous tint of fuchsia? And of course, you’ve gotta have a random 60s chick in a summer dress (though to be fair, that might be one of the actual characters).
But the thing that really gets me is how dark everything is. Seriously, if you pick this book up in a used bookstore, it’s usually so faded and time-weathered that you can barely make out any of the details at all. That was certainly true of the copy that I read, back when I was working delivery for the BYU Bookstore and snatching a couple of pages here and there between drops. Good memories, seriously.
Believe it or not, this actually isn’t the worst cover of this book. I’m so glad I picked up a copy with this cover, because the cover of the Baen edition gives away the ending! It’s not even subtle about it, either! The Baen edition features the sign to the entrance of Farnham’s Freehold at the end, and it’s totally full of spoilers for the whole book. Seriously, what kind of an idiot thought that was a good idea? See my comment about the IQ of committees up above.

I recently picked up A Knight of Ghosts and Shadows by Poul Anderson from the library and DNFed it: too much opera, not enough space. But the cover… it takes the meaning of “hideous” to an entirely new level. In fact, this was the cover that gave me the idea of writing this blog post.
So what have we got here? There’s a psychadelic 70s chick with some hair that makes her look like Princess Leia’s grandmother, and a creepy little goblin dude in a spacesuit with random owl wings, who looks like he wants to peep on her. Also, some weird sci-fi cityscape in the background, I guess? It’s difficult to tell, because elsewhere the background looks like one of my Mom’s first-grade art projects. And of course, if that didn’t make it dated enough, you’ve got the funky 70s typography that died along with disco.
I picked up this book because 1. it was a Poul Anderson book that was at my local library, and 2. it made the Locus recommended reading list for 1975 without being nominated for the Hugo or the Nebula. Many of the other covers are surprisingly NSFW, because apparently Princess Leia’s grandmother is a futuristic sex slave—and yet, I found even the parts with her in it to be surprisingly dull. Like I said, too much opera, not enough space.

Speaking of mildly NSFW book covers that make reading in public super awkward, here is the cover of the copy of Rite of Passage by Alexei Panshin that was at the BYU Library, of all places. It’s not the cover above: I was going to post it, then thought better because it’s uncomfortably pornographic—especially when you consider that the main character is a minor. Yech. When my wife saw it, she said: “that’s a weird looking spaceship… oh wait, that’s not a spaceship!”
But even more hideous than that one (though perhaps not as terrible as this one), the cover above makes me think of nothing so much as the fact that communism ruins everything. Seriously, this cover has all the charm and aesthetic appeal of a Kruschev-era Soviet housing project in Eastern Ukraine, or maybe a ruined bus stop somewhere in the Kazakh steppes.
Seriously, when I lived in Georgia (the country, not the state), we would see old public art pieces from the communist era all over the place, in the soul-destroying style of socialist realism. This particular cover brings back a lot of memories of the Tbilisi subway. Which isn’t too surprising, because from reading this book, I’m pretty sure that Panshin was a socialist. In fact, it was right around this time that the entire science fiction genre swung super hard to the left, and with a few notable exceptions (David Weber, John Ringo, Larry Correia), it’s never really swung back.
…and looking at Alexei Panshin’s Wikipedia entry, it appears that he passed away less than a month ago. RIP. Fortunately, he got at least one good cover for Rite of Passage before he died.

My wife recently read Inferno by Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle, and she really enjoyed it. Based on her recommendation, I picked up a copy (not this one, thank goodness!) and I’m reading it now. It’s pretty good, but what the heck is going on with this cover? Seriously, it’s like someone puked up a mummy on the blue screen of death from Windows XP, except without any text. And what’s with the two monks standing on the mummy’s belly? Like, who saw the preliminary sketches of this cover art and thought “yup, that’s going to attract the right kind of reader and sell a bunch of books.” Thankfully, the book sold reall well in spite of this cover, not because of it.
So much for retro cover fails. What are some of your personal favorites that still stand out after all these years?
From the title of this post, you’re probably expecting a snarky takedown of the concept of “white privilege” and a good solid fisking of critical race theory. And while I thoroughly despise everything having to do with CRT, liberation theology, and Ibram Henry Roger’s X Kendi’s ideas of “anti-racism,” I do have one point of white privilege that I do need to confess. That is to say, I do indeed have an undue advantage because of the color of my skin.
I get to be the boogeyman.
As a straight white cisgender male conservative Christian, the woke intersectional left may mock me, attack me, or otherwise attack me rhetorically for my values, beliefs and opinions, but they do not ignore me or pretend that I do not exist. For example, if I write a blog post that criticizes the wokeness of science fiction, File 770 will often pick it up. I’m not on social media anymore, but if I were, I’m pretty sure that my anti-woke posts would similarly spark a very hot debate, and get passed around by intersectional leftists as an example of white supremacy.
If I were a straight black cisgender male conservative, all of those people would treat me as if I didn’t exist.
Their entire system of belief depends on black people fitting into a role defined by neo-Marxism, which separates everybody into racially-defined groups and declares that certain races are the oppressed, while other races are the oppressors. Black conservatives, especially black Christian conservatives, repudiate this theory by their very existence, which is why you’ll often hear people on the left claim that they aren’t “black enough.” Which of course is just another way of saying that they don’t exist.
You’ll often hear woke social justice types accuse conservatives of “denying the existence” of people who are trans, or queer, or in one of their other intersectional victim groups. This is nothing less than confession through projection. If you’re gay and you’re conservative, you aren’t really gay. If you’re trans and you’re conservative, you aren’t really trans… except, if your skin color is white, they can always chalk it up to “interalized whiteness” or some other such nonesense. But if you’re black? No such thing.
Of course, there are some black conservatives who are prominent enough that the woke types cannot ignore them. Justice Clarence Thomas comes to mind, as well as Thomas Sowell, Larry Elder, Candace Owens, Justin Whitlock… but here’s the thing: because these prominent conservatives are black, they get WAY more hate and vitriol from the left than white conservatives. Ridiculous amounts of hate. Larry Elder, for example, was called “the black face of white supremacy” and nearly got egged during his run for governor of California. By a leftist. Would that have happened if he weren’t black? Probably not.
Here’s the thing, though: for every black conservative who is too prominent for the woke intersectional left to ignore, there are hundreds—perhaps thousands—of small fry like me who they can effectively unperson and ignore. Which isn’t to say that every black conservative creator’s struggles are due to woke racism, but it is definitely a factor, and one that I personally don’t have to deal with because I am the great white boogeyman. Any publicity is good publicity, especially when you’re small.
Of course, there is a way to remove this white privilege and equalize the opportunities for black conservatives and white conservatives alike… and that is to remove anti-racism, CRT, liberation theology, and all of this other woke garbage from our society. If our culture were not dominated by these ideologies, I would not be privileged above black conservative creators in this way. And frankly, that’s a world I’d much rather live in.
But this does make me want to find more conservative, black authors like me who are finding it difficult to get any traction in this industry because they are black and conservative. Indie is (to my knowledge) still a pretty level playing field, but traditional publishing is not, especially with the short story markets. And of course, promo sites and newsletters are going to be a mixed bag.
So if any of you know of some black conservative authors (or if you happen to be one), please let me know! I’d like to check them out.
Believe it or not, I actually did not have an opinion on Amazon’s latest boondoggle, the Lord of the Rings TV series called “Rings of Power,” until about three days ago. I expected it to be a disappointment, partially because I expected it to be woke, but mostly because all the major TV series seem to suck these days and I didn’t have any reason to believe that this one would be an exception. Amazon doesn’t strike me as being as insufferably woke as Disney or Netflix, though I did hear a lot of things about their Wheel of Time series (didn’t watch it, just because I haven’t read the books yet and plan to read them soon), but when people started complaining about the wokeness in Rings of Power, it didn’t surprise me either.
With that said, it seems that most people aren’t complaining that the series is overly woke, but that it’s just badly written. Kind of like how the thing that made Star Wars VIII: The Last Jedi was so terrible just because the storytelling was so bad. A lot of people also hated it for being woke, but I’ve also heard it argued that the movie wasn’t woke at all, and if you really dig into the underlying message you’ll find that it actually repudiates many key woke tenets. But whether or not that’s true, it was just an objectively terrible movie, with plot holes large enough to drive a Death Star through and protagonists so unlikeable they make Jabba the Hutt look like a sympathetic figure. But I digress.
So anyways, I didn’t really have an opinion about Amazon’s Rings of Power yet, and was actually planning to watch the first two episodes… until I read the show’s official response to all the negative reviews it’s been getting.
Just for fun, let’s fisk it together:
We, the cast of Rings of Power, stand together in absolute solidarity
“Solidarity” is a lefty word. The left tends to favor certain words more than others (for example, they could have used “support” here instead). Also, they’re constantly trying to twist words in order to give them some advantage, however slight it might be. So right away, this word choice was a yellow flag for me.
and against the relentless racism,
Yeah, but is it really “racism” though?
threats, harassment, and abuse
Again, I can’t take these accusations at face value because most of the time, “harassment” is just lefty-speak for “someone who disagrees with me.” These people claim that speech is violence, and then turn around and use violence to try to silence—or worse, compell—the speech of everyone else.
Also, what about the fans who came to this show in good faith and were genuinely disappointed? Every book, movie, game, or TV show gets at least a few one-star reviews. Even the best ones do. Some people just have different tastes. Are you seriously lumping all of those fans into the same box with the trolls and the racists?
some of our castmates of color
Every time I read “X of color” now, I inwardly hear “colored X.” The two phrases mean the exact same thing, but one of them signals woke virtue, while the other will get you banned from the Nebulas hours after they name you a Grand Master (and against the express objections of the supposed victim, no less).
But honestly, “people of color” is just the lefty way of saying “people who aren’t white.” Which is often just another way to be racist against white people.
are being subjected to on a daily basis. We refuse to ignore it or tolerate it.
Do you remember when “tolerance” was supposed to be a virtue, and anyone who was “intolerant,” for any reason whatsoever, was considered a terrible person? But one of the key tenets of wokeism is that rules that apply to non-woke people don’t apply to you.
Also, whatever happened to being “diverse”? Because if diversity is truly the goal, then there are going to be people who genuinely hate your show—and that’s okay. It doesn’t make them racist. It just means that they have a diversity of tastes.
So once again, why are you calling everyone who hates the show a racist, abusive harasser?
JRR Tolkien created a world which, by definition, is multi-cultural.
He created a fantasy world with a lot of different cultures. That’s completely different from being multi-cultural, or promoting the ideology of multi-culturalism.
I’ve only read Lord of the Rings twice, but I don’t remember it being political or ideological. Why are you trying to make it out to fit your own political views? Have you read the books at all?
A world in which free peoples from different races and cultures join together, in fellowship, to defeat the forces of evil.
Yeah, but that’s not multi-culturalism. When the US invaded Iraq in 2003, we made a coalition with many different “free peoples from different races and cultures,” but that wasn’t multi-cultural because 1) we organized the coalition outside of, and actually in contravention of, the UN Security Council, and 2) the multi-culturalists condemned the invasion at the time, and still condemn it to this day.
It sounds to me like these people are twisting the word “multi-cultural” into pretzels to suit their own rhetorical ends. Which is typical of how leftists twist language.
Rings of Power reflects that. Our world has never been all white, fantasy has never been all white, Middle-earth is not all white.
Actually, Tolkien’s explicit goal with creating Middle Earth was to provide England with a founding mythology that was free of all Norman French influence. So that’s debatable.
But more importantly, who ever said that the goal is to make Middle-Earth, or the fantasy genre as a whole, “all white”? Are you seriously implying that everyone who hates Rings of Power is somehow a white supremacist?
BIPOC belong in Middle-earth and they are here to stay.
Yep, that’s exactly what you’re saying. Everyone who hates Rings of Power, for whatever reason, is actually just a white supremacist. Way to piss all over the Tolkien fans who just don’t like your show.
Finally, all our love and fellowship go out to the fans supporting us,
…but not to the Tolkien fans who don’t like the show. They can fuck right off.
especially fans of colour
…because if you don’t like our show, you obviously aren’t black.
who are themselves being attacked simply for existing in this fandom.
As you have just demonstrated by literally accusing all of the disappointed Tolkien fans—including the black fans—of being white supremacists. How dare those people exist!
Accusation = projection = confession with these people. In every case. No exception.
We see you,
No, you don’t.
your bravery,
No, you really don’t.
It’s much braver to speak up and be honest about what you think about shows like this, especially when all of the Big Tech and social media sites censor you and falsely accuse you of being a white supremacist for your opinions.
and endless creativity. Your cosplays, fancams, fan art, and
In all fairness to the publicity folks who wrote this, they did use the Oxford comma properly. So kudos for that.
insights make this community a richer place and remind us of our purpose.
The inverse of this is that when you call everyone who disagrees with you a white supremacist, your community becomes a poorer place, your creativity dies, and you ultimately forget your purpose. Which is exactly what is happening right now with every corner of the arts that has gone woke.
You are valid,
Once again, the left seems to favor this word. Not sure why.
you are loved,
Sorry, but I don’t turn to corporations or TV shows for love and affection. When I do need love and affection, I turn to the actual people in my life, thank you very much.
and you belong.
Unless you disagree with us, of course.
You are an integral part of the LOTR family—
Fandom is many things, but it is not and should not be a substitution for family. And frankly, given how toxic most fandoms have become, if I needed to find a new family, why would I choose such a dysfunctional one?
thanks for having our backs.
And thanks for stabbing us in our backs, you woke corporate shills.
So yeah, I won’t be watching Rings of Power at all now. Any show that turns on their fans and calls them all racists and white supremacists for not liking the show is totally undeserving of my time, attention, or respect.
But it wasn’t a total loss. We did get this from it:
Ever since I made a spreadsheet to track all the Hugo and Nebula award-winning books, I’ve noticed some interesting patterns. I’ve already blogged about how the genre seemed to transform after the creation of SFWA and the introduction of the Nebula Awards. That seems to mark the point where the left’s long march through the institutions began in our genre, though it may be coincidental as that is also when the New Wave began. Or the two events may be connected, which wouldn’t surprise me.
In any case, I’ve expanded that spreadsheet to include the Dragon Awards and the Goodreads Choice Awards for the fantasy and science fiction categories, and I’m now in the process of adding all the books from the Locus magazine’s readers’ poll, at least for science fiction and fantasy. From what I can tell, Locus basically sets which books will be considered for nomination with most of the older awards, creating what a cynical person might call a “master slate.” And since Locus has been insufferably woke for a very long time (I still read my local university library’s copy every month, though articles like this one make me question why), that goes a long way to explaining how the Hugos and Nebulas became so woke—though I’m still not sure if Locus is woke because its core readership (and primary revenue source), the New York publishing establishment, is woke, or if the organization was captured during the left’s long march through the institutions. Or if Locus has simply been woke from its inception.
But I’ve noticed other patterns, including some with the Goodread’s Choice Awards (which include a very public vote tally) that seem to indicate that the Hugos, the Nebulas, and the Locus readers’ poll are now of minimal cultural significance: a sideshow, if you will, or a very small clique that represents the genre’s past, not its future. Which is actually pretty obvious—you don’t need to assemble a spreadsheet of thousands of books to see that. But it’s an interesting pattern nonetheless, and it’s made me wonder if perhaps the rise of the internet—in particular, social media—killed fandom, at least as we traditionally understand it.
From what I can tell, SF&F fandom began in the 20s during the era of Hugo Gernsback’s “scientifiction” and the pulps. During the Golden Age of the 30s and 40s, fandom began to organize things Worldcon and the Hugos, but the genre was still very monolothic, with so few books and magazines being published each year that it was possible for a devoted fan to read all of them. In fact, the culture generally was very monolithic, with ABC, NBC, and CBS dominating television, the New York Times dominating the newspapers, and Life and the Saturday Evening Post dominating the magazines.
Because of the monolithic nature of the culture during this time, it was possible for a single figure to dominate and shape the field, like Walter Cronkite in journalism, or John W. Campbell Jr. in science fiction. But fandom was still mostly a localized affair, with geographical distance and the limitations of communications technology keeping fannish controversies from becoming too fractious or toxic—though not for lack of effort. But in a world without internet, where arguments happened either in person at conventions or the local club, or else evolved gradually in the pages of the various fanzines, none of the factions ever tried to split or go their own way. Granted, part of that was due to the monolithic nature of the genre—if they did split off, where would they go?—but there was still a sense that everyone in their small corner of fandom was a part of a far greater whole, even with all of their passionate and sometimes fractious opinions.
But as science fiction grew, it became less monolithic, if for no other reason than that it was no longer possible to read all of the books and magazines that were coming out. From what I can tell, the genre crossed that threshold sometime in the 60s. This was also when the New Wave pushed back against the standards set by Campbell and began producing some very experimental (and also more left-wing) work. But fandom didn’t totally fracture at this time. Instead, from what I can tell, the Locus reader’s poll emerged in order to filter out everything but the very best work for consideration for the awards.
In a world where everyone considers themselves to be part of the larger community of fandom, awards—even the relatively minor ones—carry a lot of weight. This remained true through the 70s and 80s as science fiction grew to the point where it truly went mainstream. In fact, the awards became even more important, because there was no longer any way for even the most devoted fan to read (or watch, or play) all of the new books and magazines (or movies, or shows, or games) that were coming out. New subgenres and subcultures of fandom began to emerge, but everyone still looked to the awards—particularly the Hugos and the Nebulas—as the standard of excellence.
But the publishers placed even more weight on the awards, because winning a Hugo, or getting on a New York Times bestseller list, often were key to propelling sales. So over time, the publishers gradually took over the awards, as well as the organizations and infrastructure that had been built around them. With the Nebulas, it isn’t hard to see how this happened, as SFWA allows publishers to be members (creating a very obvious conflict of interest that the leadership of that organization has chosen to ignore). With the Hugos, it probably happened through Locus, since the magazine depends so much on advertising for its financials. This became even more true as the subscriber base declined in the 90s, as it did for all of the major magazines in the field.
What caused the decline in subscribers? The internet, of course. Fans no longer depended on the ‘zines to stay in touch with the broader community, but began to organize into listservs, email chains, and message board forums instead. Later, blogs and social media continued this trend. Geographic distance became increasingly irrelevant, and fandom became less of something that you connected with through your local group of friends and more something that you connected with online as an atomized individual.
But ironically, the more interconnected fandom became via the internet, the more it began to fracture. All of those passionate opinions were no longer tempered by the boundaries of time and distance, and the snarkiest and most vitriolic or self-righteous opinions were often the ones that garnered the largest audience. This became even more true with the advent of social media, which relies on amplifying outrage to addict its users and maximize profits. Social media also encouraged the formation of echo chambers, where the various corners of fandom spent so much time talking to each other than they soon had little in common with the wider fandom. Geographical distance counted much less, but ideological distance counted for more—much more.
But did the internet ruin fandom, or save it? Or in other words, was this transformation a net loss or a net gain for fans of the genre? Because, on the creation side of things, I think the internet was very much a positive development. No longer did a creator have to rely on a small clique of ossified New York gatekeepers for their work to see the light of day, and the nature of online distribution meant that a quirky book written for a tiny but underserved subculture could find and grow an audience quite effectively, even without any mainstream appeal. Of course, this only accelerated the division of fandom, but it also meant that those subcultures—many of which had been underserved for decades—now had much more content tailored specifically for them.
In the 10s, the deepening divisions within fandom manifested in a fight for control of the major awards—specifically, the Hugos. That was whate the puppies were all about. But the fight became so toxic that the awards themselves became discredited, and the victory of the wrongfun brigade proved to be a Pyrrhic one. And because the culture is no longer monolithic, and fandom is no longer a single community united by a love for the same thing, the fall of the awards has given us a world where it matters much less that you’re a fan of science fiction and fantasy generally, and much more that you’re a fan of X author, or X game, or X thing.
Gone are the days when a single author, or editor, or influencer can reshape the culture in their own image. The wrongfun brigade is still trying to do that, but all they will ultimately accomplish is to destroy everything that they touch, including all of the legacy institutions that they now control. But this also means that we’ve lost that sense of being part of a larger, broader community. Of course, it’s fair to argue that that was always just an illusion, and that we’re all much better off now that there’s something literally for everybody. But I do think that’s come at a cost of increasing social isolation.
The pandemic has no doubt accelerated this. I wasn’t at Chicon or Dragoncon this past weekend, but I have friends that were, and I plan to meet up with them at FanX Salt Lake later this month. It will be interesting to get their take on all this. In the meantime, I will continue to fill out my book awards spreadsheet and look for interesting patterns.
Remember when the wrongfun brigade screamed and shouted and gnashed their teeth that the Sad Puppies were cheating the Hugo Awards through “slate voting,” or whatever the hell they called it? That we were somehow gaming the system to put our racist, sexist, misogynistic, fascist authors (many of whom were non-white, female, and/or flaming libertarians) on the ballot? Well… if you’ve been paying attention to the Dragon Awards, you know by now that those accusations were always flat-out lies, because the wrongfun brigade has been doing exactly the same thing they accused us of doing: cramming the wokest garbage on the Dragon Awards ballot, year after year after year.
It’s a toss-up which book is the worst offender, but so far I think that The Future of Another Timeline by Annalee Newitz takes the “worst book ever nominated for a Dragon by the wrongfun brigade” award. Seriously, if I were to write a parody of a book written by a washed-up second-wave feminist desperately trying to stay culturally relevant by proving her woke bona fides, there would not be any substantial difference between that and the actual novel. The villians—I kid you not—are an evil time-traveling brotherhood of men’s rights activists who are trying to rewrite history so that women are enslaved as breeders for the Patriarchy. Thankfully, the righteous sisterhood (er, trans-sister, non-binary… damn, that’s awkward) of uber-feminists thwarts the evil MRAs and defeats them in an epic time travel war. Abortions for all!
Seriously, it is clear from the very first page of this woefully inadequate toilet paper substitute that Newitz has never even attempted to thoughtfully and meaningfully engage with a men’s right’s activist, let alone an actual feminist who engaged meaningfully with them. And that’s what I find so fascinating. There was a time when the left was actually pretty good about engaging their ideological opponents on their own terms, and steel-manning, rather than straw-manning, the opposition’s arguments. Today, the left is totally incapable of that. That’s why all of the books that the wrongfun brigade afflicts upon us read like parodies, and why all of the awards that the wrongfun brigade has taken over are best taken as a list of books to avoid.
But all of this got me to thinking: am I capable of steel-manning the left’s argument on a position with which I vehemently disagree? Can I make their argument for them in a way that would make even the most rabid, foaming-at-the-mouth feminist nod reluctantly and admit: “yes, that is exactly what I believe”?
Let’s find out, shall we?
Since the dawn of time, women have been bound and fettered to their wombs. The ability to give birth, which the right sees as a privilege and a blessing, is actually the source of all the inequality between the sexes, and the reason why women have never been as free or as liberated as men.
Throughout history, men could have sex as often as they wished without any fear of becoming pregnant from the encounter. They might fear getting their female partner pregnant, but they always had the option to walk away. In contrast, women had to be constantly aware of the fact that any sexual encounter—whether wanted or not—could lead to nine months of exquisite physical torture, followed by a bloody birthing experience that often resulted in her death. And even in those cases where the mother survived, she now had a child who would be physically dependent on her for years, and mentally or emotionally dependent on her for decades. All of this could result from even the most innocuous sexual exploration—or a single unwanted rape.
Without reliable birth control—and many traditional religious societies still discourage birth control, same as they have for centuries—even a comfortably married woman could expect to spend the majority of her life bearing and caring for children, whether or not she wanted to. And because this experience was universal to all women, society developed strict gender roles that discouraged women from pursuing an education or a career. How could a woman pursue such things, when so many small children depended on her? In this way, the womb defined a woman’s station in life, and she had very little control or say in the matter. After all, what sort of a wife could deny her husband sex? And what sort of a woman could make a living in a world of men without a husband?
The invention of the birth control pill did a lot to liberate women, but it didn’t do enough. At best, the pill granted women a reprive that allowed them to see what the world might be like if they were no longer bound to their wombs. After all, even the most reliable birth control fails from time to time, especially if you forget to take it (or find it too difficult to obtain).
This is where the issue of abortion comes in. Conservatives like to smear us as being “unscientific” or confused about when life begins, but in truth that is just a side issue—a distraction from the real issue, which is liberating women from their wombs. Because the power to create life isn’t empowering at all if it only goes one way. If you have the power to give, but not to take, that power can be used against you. Same if you have the power to create, but not to destroy.
This is why abortion needs to be both legal and readily available through all stages of pregnancy: because unless women can choose to abort the life within them, then they will never be truly liberated. Nature has given them the power to give life, but without the power to take it, women will always be second-class citizens, confined to the restrictive gender roles imposed on them by their wombs. This is why birth control alone is insufficient: it only blocks the ability to create life, and that imperfectly. But power has to flow both ways.
Conservatives make a lot of noise about the value of life, but they are suspiciously silent on the issue of quality of life. Indeed, they seem to be unable or unwilling to consider that some lives simply are not worth living. Thus, they are willing to make exceptions to their pro-life stance for things like ectopic pregnancies—conditions where the choice is between letting both the mother and the baby die, or killing the baby to save the mother—but they fail to see how the same principle might apply in situations where the woman has to choose between aborting the child to obtain a successful career, or have the child and condemn them both to a life of abject poverty.
Not all life is equal. Some lives are more worth living than others, and some people’s lives are so terrible that they wish they’d never been born. How is it virtuous or noble to give anyone that kind of a life? It isn’t. Abortion is a hard thing, but sometimes it is necessary, and the alternative—the pro-life position—is downright cruel.
But that isn’t the main reason why abortion is so important. The main reason is that it liberates women from the fetters of the womb. It grants them the antithesis to the power that nature grants them, the power to create life, and thus allows them to pursue whatever sort of path they wish. Many women who have abortions go on to have children later in life, when the time is right for them. And because of those abortions, they are better able to care for those children, when they do come.
At this point, we should talk about how men control women’s bodies. Now, it’s obvious that there isn’t some super-secret Patriarchy society that meets on Tuesdays to discuss how they can advance their goal to turn all women into slaves for breeding purposes. That’s not what we mean when we say “controlling women’s bodies.” However, it is natural for people to fear the things that they don’t understand, and to try to exert control over the thing that they fear. Men clearly don’t understand women—that fact has been memed so often, it’s practically self-evident. So is it really all that hard to believe that men often try to exhert control over women, out of their fear and misunderstanding?
This control takes on many forms, but perhaps the most common form is that of gender roles. Men want women to take on a defined role because, among other things, that makes women understandable. But these roles are often more constrictive than the corresponding roles imposed upon men. A “mother” is often subject to a higher standard than a “father,” and is judged much more harshly when she fails to live up to that role. Also, the role of “mother” grants a lot less bodily autonomy than that of “father.” Is it really hard to see how this becomes a mechanism of control—specifically, over women’s bodies?
The issue at the heart of all of this is liberation. Freeing women from the harsh realities imposed upon them by their wombs is just the beginning. The ultimate liberation is the freedom to redefine reality itself—to decide whether or not one actually is a woman, and transcend the restrictions of sex and gender altogether. And why shouldn’t we exercise this power? Since the dawn of time, humans have been creatures of innovation, refusing to accept the constraints that nature has imposed upon us. When we looked up at the birds and saw that they could fly, we didn’t say “that’s nice, but nature didn’t give us that ability, so we should just stay in our place here on Earth.” Rather, we took inspiration from the birds and kept innovating and inventing until we, too, had the ability to fly. Why should sex or gender be any different?
This is why feminism and transgenderism aren’t actually at odds. It’s also why the new “what is a woman?” meme on the right, however cute, is totally irrelevant. Yes, it is true that ever since the dawn of time, a woman has been defined as an adult human female. That isn’t interesting. What is interesting is what women may become, after they’ve been liberated. Or men, for that matter. Because the liberation of women also ultimately liberates all of humanity: male, female, and everything in-between.
Liberation is the goal. Liberation is the key. Accept no boundaries, and refuse to live by the rules that are imposed upon you. Partake of the forbidden fruit, and you too may ascend to godhood. Refuse to accept the stories of Icarus and Prometheus as cautionary tales. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.