Day Off

     I need some downtime. This old age stuff is wearing. Back tomorrow, I hope. Meanwhile, pray for Scott Adams: that he depart peacefully from this life, and that his soul find its way into God's arms.

This Greenland Thing

     Greenland in the news! Contention over Greenland! NATO roiled by tensions over Greenland! War threatens! Film at eleven!

     I know, I know: you’ve been there. Actually, for those with short memories, I too have been there, and if the tune is the same, the words differ somewhat:

     President Donald Trump and his top officials have framed their drive for Greenland — a semi-autonomous Danish territory — as all about U.S. national security, broader NATO footprints in the increasingly competitive Arctic and grabbing critical minerals.
     This is a somewhat thin justification. The U.S. has for many decades had a defense agreement with Copenhagen to keep a military presence in Greenland.
     Plus, much of the concern plaguing Europe for the last year is built on a fear of the U.S. pulling away from the continent — not committing more American troops to a region NATO is desperate to safeguard against growing Russian and Chinese influence.

     Please read the rest. It’s not bad for a Newsweek article. But most of the salient points are already part of public discourse.

     There’s a strange feel to President Trump’s desire that Greenland become a part of the U.S. Since this is the second time around for this initiative, I have to wonder whether America’s national interests are his real reasons for pursuing it.

     A few things that Greenland is not:

• It’s not arable.
• It’s not “living space.”
• It’s not easily exploitable.

     I’m told it’s valuable for military purposes. I’ll accept that; many harsh places stand guard over strategic travel routes, and the North Atlantic is forever full of vessels, both surface and subsurface, that bear watching. But the U.S. already has military bases on Greenland. Denmark, which claims sovereignty over Greenland, has expressed willingness that American military exploitation of Greenland should increase.

     I’m also told that Greenland is rich in natural resources. That may be so, but again, the Danish government has been accommodating toward commercial exploitation of Greenland’s resources. We must ask why the formal acquisition of Greenland – its transfer from Denmark’s jurisdiction to ours – matters so greatly to President Trump.

     The simplest explanation may be the correct one: Trump’s a real-estate man. Any real-estate man would rather own than lease. And there are possible advantages in not having to bargain with another power for the use of Greenland. But responsibility for the people of Greenland would come with it.

     Another, somewhat darker explanation, would be that contention over Greenland makes an ideal lever by which to pull the U.S. out of NATO. NATO is the conduit through which American resources are pulled into Europe. The drain NATO places on American military power and funding was the original reason that President Nixon ended the redeemability of the dollar in gold. Fomenting discord over Greenland might be an indirect method for ending NATO, an alliance long overdue for dissolution.

     There’s been talk about a morphing of the Monroe Doctrine into a “Donroe Doctrine,” under which American authority and responsibility for the Western Hemisphere would justify enfolding Greenland. That’s a bit thin. Greenland isn’t really part of the Western Hemisphere, and as previously stated, our military is already there.

     A minor possibility is that the matter is ego-driven: President Trump may envision American acquisition of Greenland as securing his place in the history books. It would be America’s largest territorial acquisition, edging out the Louisiana Purchase. That would be an impressive enlargement of the U.S., but in practical terms it would change almost nothing. Anyway, President Trump’s place in the books is already secure for other reasons, and I’m sure he knows it.

     Finally, there’s this: Back in the days of the Plantagenets, it was a common practice for the king to “give” a province to a brother or son. If President Trump is thinking of Greenland as a college-graduation gift for Barron, I’d suggest a snowglobe instead. Young men don’t often cherish such gifts for long. They thank Dad for them, but soon enough they stick them in the back of the closet and forget them. There they languish until their wives-to-be decree a “cleanup” that sees them left at the curb for the recyclers. No one would want to see Greenland suffer that fate. Especially the Greenlanders.

     Anyway, I still think if we’re going to go national-real-estate shopping, we should buy Canada. The National Hockey League Hall Of Fame really belongs in America, don’t you think?

The Baptism Of Jesus

     According to Matthew the Evangelist:

     Then cometh Jesus from Galilee to Jordan unto John, to be baptized of him. But John forbad him, saying, I have need to be baptized of thee, and comest thou to me?
     And Jesus answering said unto him, Suffer it to be so now: for thus it becometh us to fulfil all righteousness. Then he suffered him.
     And Jesus, when he was baptized, went up straightway out of the water: and, lo, the heavens were opened unto him, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and lighting upon him: And lo a voice from heaven, saying, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.

     [Matthew 3:13-17]

     It’s a curious episode: the Son of God submitting himself to baptism by a mortal! Why? What made it necessary, or appropriate?

     This morning’s Mass celebrant offered his thesis, which for all I know may be official Church teaching: that by accepting baptism by John, Jesus was validating Baptism as a sacrament. As Catholics believe that sacramental Baptism cleanses the new Christian of the burden of original sin, that has some weight. But it might not be a complete explanation.

     For further insight, let’s look at Jesus’s lifelong adoption of lowliness.

     Jesus was born to two poor travelers, who were far from their home. He spent his earliest hours in a manger. He spent his youth laboring alongside his father. When he undertook his ministry, he traveled Judea as a mortal, in the humblest of all modes of travel: on foot, without any money, luggage or “extra” possessions. He depended upon the generosity of those he visited for his sustenance and his shelter. He would die in the most torturous and ignominious manner of that time – and between two petty thieves!

     Accepting baptism by John was fully consistent with Jesus’s adoption of other lowly practices. Only in his miracles, most of all his Resurrection, did he display divine power and status.

     There’s a lot to ponder in there, especially in light of what Venerable Archbishop Fulton Sheen had to say about him:

     When God came to Earth, there was no room in the inn, but there was room in the stable. What lesson is hidden behind the inn and the stable?

     What is an inn, but the gathering-place of public opinion, the focal point of the world’s moods, the residence of the worldly, the rallying place of the fashionable and those who count in the management of the world’s affairs? What is a stable, but the place of outcasts, the refuge of beasts, and the shelter of the valueless, and therefore the symbol of those who in the eyes of public opinion do not count and hence may be ignored as of no great value or moment? Anyone in the world would have expected to find Divinity in an inn, but no one would have expected to have found it in a stable….

     If, in those days, the stars of the heavens by some magic touch had folded themselves together as silver words and announced the birth of the Expected of the Nations, where would the world have gone in search of Him?

     The world would have searched for the Babe in some palace by the Tiber, or in some gilded house of Athens, or in some inn of a great city where gathered the rich, the mighty, and the powerful ones of Earth. They would not have been the least surprised to have found the newborn King of Kings stretched out on a cradle of gold and surrounded by kings and philosophers paying Him their tribute and obeisance.

     But they would have been surprised to have discovered Him in a manger, laid on coarse straw and warmed by the breath of oxen, as if in atonement for the coldness of the hearts of men. No one would have expected that the One whose fingers could stop the turning of Arcturus would be smaller than the head of an ox; that He who could hurl the ball of fire into the heavens would one day be warmed by the breath of beasts; that He who could make a canopy of stars would be shielded from a stormy sky by the roof of a stable; or that He who made the Earth as His future home would be homeless at home. No one would have expected to find Divinity in such a condition; but that is because Divinity is always where you least expect to find it….

     The world has always sought Divinity in the power of a Babel, but never in the weakness of a Bethlehem. It has searched for it in the inns of popular opinion, but never in the stable of the ignored. It has looked for it in the cradles of gold, but never in the cribs of straw – always in power, but never in weakness.

     The Jews of First Century Judea believed that their Messiah would be a temporal leader, a warlord who would cast off the yoke of Rome and lead them to glory among the nations. They got a man in a simple robe and sandals, who sought neither power nor status. He accepted baptism from a crude wilderness figure, and went on to preach gentleness, simplicity, and repentance. Is it any wonder that so many failed to accept him?

     May God bless and keep you all.

What Is "The Law Of Nations?"

     This piece and the many others that have been written since American forces deposed Nicolas Maduro have excited questions about “international law.” The phrase is portentous but misleading. If we take as our template “law” as it comes about in parliaments and is enforced by armed agents of the State, we find ourselves unable to grapple with “laws” never legislated nor backed by specific enforcers. To give “international law” appreciable meaning, we must seek guidance elsewhere.

     Article I Section 8 of the Constitution of the United States includes this provision:

     The Congress shall have power… To define and punish Piracies and Felonies committed on the high Seas, and Offences against the Law of Nations;

     When the Constitution was written, “the Law of Nations” was taken to mean the body of proscriptions commonly recognized and enforced throughout those nations from which the peoples of the original thirteen states held as their heritage. Two above others were paramount:

• “Thou shalt not kill.”
• “Thou shalt not steal.”

     Despite the political departure the Constitution represented, the Founders recognized the key legal commonality between America and its Old World roots: the laws against forcible predation. Thus, they empowered Congress to define those acts as punishable outside as well as inside our national borders. Other national laws were omitted from consideration, or deemed unenforceable “on the high Seas.” At the time there was no consideration of laws such as today’s forbiddings of various drugs. Smuggling laws enforced at the nation’s border were outside the “high Seas” scope of the provision.

     Today “the Law of Nations” is more extensive than in 1787. For example, there’s a general agreement among civilized nations that the international transport of certain drugs, and the unauthorized transport of weapons, should be forbidden. No world legislature passed laws against those things; it’s simply a commonality among the great majority of nations. So it became first a matter of tacit international agreement, later confirmed by various treaties and United Nations “conventions.” (It’s also a criterion for recognizing a “rogue state” or a “failed state.”)

     Mind you, such agreements, implicit or explicit, are agreements between States. States do such things to benefit themselves, not their subjects or neighbor States. Were the U.S. to rescind all its laws against traffic in fentanyl, for example, the existing agreements against international traffic would remain. The other nations would continue to enforce them to the extent possible… which, with America subtracted from the equation, would be considerably less.

     Just this morning, “The Pour Over,” a newsletter I get regularly, put forth its own take on “international law:”

     That’s not a bad abstract treatment of the subject, though it doesn’t delve into the history of the thing. As regards enforcement, it’s a bit simplistic in leaning upon “sanctions.” Clearly those are not the only instruments at a nation’s disposal, as the U.S. demonstrated by sinking several drug-smuggling boats in international waters.

     There were, of course, protests against those sinkings. Google’s AI summarizes those reactions, including those from outside the U.S.:

     International criticism of the U.S. strikes came from various sources:

• United Nations and Human Rights Bodies: The UN human rights chief suggested the strikes might constitute unlawful extrajudicial killings, and the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights voiced "deep concern," requesting investigations.
• Foreign Governments: Venezuela condemned the operations as aggression and violations of international law, filing a complaint with the UN Security Council. Colombian President Gustavo Petro called the strikes "extrajudicial executions". Brazil, China, France, Iran, Mexico, and Russia also stated the strikes violated international law.
• Non-Governmental Organizations and Activists: Human rights groups and legal experts, including the American Friends Service Committee, questioned the legality of the killings and the absence of public evidence.
• Public Protests: Protests against the U.S. actions occurred in locations like Rochester, New York, with demonstrators carrying signs such as "No War on Venezuela".

     The international negative reaction primarily focused on the U.S. military's use of lethal force in what were seen as law enforcement scenarios without publicly providing evidence for the "narco-terrorist" label, leading to concerns about legality under international law.

     But lethal force is the ultimate form of enforcement. It stands behind all other varieties of enforcement. The opinions of the protestors, individual or national, do not matter. The drugs and their transporters were offending against “the Law of Nations” as currently agreed among the States of the world. Moreover, they were doing so in very fast vessels designed to evade capture by the larger, slower vessels of blue-water navies. American aircraft destroyed them. As a character of mine once said, period fucking dot.

     This is not a moral defense nor a legitimization of the action. It’s what States do, and States are amoral. On net balance, I’d say it was a good thing, my opinions about the War on Drugs notwithstanding. It’s best for the potential consequences of an action to be clearly understood beforehand and plainly visible afterward.

     Let there be no misapprehensions: if there is to be a “Law of Nations,” it will be the great powers who will determine and enforce it. Indeed, there needn’t be a “Law of Nations” for that to be the case. The great powers will always enforce their will in No-Man’s Land. Consider low Earth orbit in this regard. Till now, the “Law of Nations” has barely brushed against it. That will change.

Design To Function

     I’ve done several kinds of design. They all have unique requirements and constraints. But they share a single universal imperative: the one in the title above.

     “What must this thing to do?” is the prime question of design. You must know and understand it. You must also know and understand that what you want it to do isn’t the only thing it will do. Quoth Marc Stiegler: “You can never do only one thing.” There will be side effects. It’s guaranteed that one or more won’t be pleasant.

     These days there’s a great deal of consternation over charity. That should surprise no one. The foofaurauw over how, when, and to whom to give has been raging since Christ walked the earth. Much of that rage is over the putative side effects, with this one in particular: the more money and effort is dedicated to charitable action, the more money and effort charitable action will demand.

     The great Cyril Northcote Parkinson understood it. He propounded his Second Law – “Expenditure rises to meet income, and tends to exceed it” – for that reason. That Law is broad in application, but it definitely covers charity.

     Money and effort put to meeting a particular demand reinforce that demand. Consider what happened to medical costs when governments got involved in paying for medical products and services. Providers raised their prices to absorb what had been budgeted and clamored for still more. It’s the same with charity: “Hey, look how much I got from them! Get over here and get in on it!”

     That didn’t happen when charitable giving was confined to the wills and wallets of private citizens. Their willingness to give of themselves was limited by firm constraints: their families’ needs and their recognition that there’s such a thing as unwise giving. The responsibilities and demands of living enforced the former; personal involvement with the recipients of charity persuaded them of the latter.

     Given that sad wisdom – and as it flows directly from human nature, it’s both sad and inevitable – how does one design a charitable organization?

     The short if brutal answer is: You don’t. Organized charities destroy the personal involvement that best serves to deter unwise and excessive giving. The closest possible approach to a sound charitable organization is something like a local food bank that vets those who want to partake of it. Even those will be plundered to some extent by the undeserving.

     Mega-charities such as the United Way are the best possible examples of unwisdom in giving. They absorb most of their receipts in organizational expenses; the fraction remaining isn’t guaranteed to reach the deserving needy. That’s not conjecture; they issue regular reports that make the problem starkly obvious. Jerry Pournelle would have told you so.

     Charity – the simple act of helping those who need and deserve help – is thus insusceptible to efficiency through organization. But if something that simple defies top-down control, what is there to say or do about the many thousands of other things for which we form and tolerate large organizations?

* * *

     There’s a quote from Herbert Spencer that comes to mind:

     “A blade which is designed both to shave and to carve, will certainly not shave so well as a razor or carve so well as a carving-knife. An academy of painting, which should also be a bank, would in all probability exhibit very bad pictures and discount very bad bills. A gas-company, which should also be an infant-school society, would, we apprehend, light the streets ill, and teach the children ill.” And if an institution undertakes, not two functions but a score; if a government, whose office it is to defend citizens against aggressors, foreign and domestic, engages also to disseminate Christianity, to administer charity, to teach children their lessons, to adjust prices of food, to inspect coal-mines, to regulate railways, to superintend house-building, to arrange cab-fares, to look into people’s stink-traps, to vaccinate their children, to send out emigrants, to prescribe hours of labor, to examine lodging-houses, to test the knowledge of mercantile captains, to provide public libraries, to read and authorize dramas, to inspect passenger-ships, to see that small dwellings are supplied with water, to regulate endless things from a banker’s issues down to the boat-fares on the Serpentine; is it not manifest that its primary duty must be ill-discharged in proportion to the multiplicity of affairs it busies itself with? Must not its time and energies be frittered away in schemes, and inquiries, and amendments, in discussions, and divisions, to the neglect of its essential business? And does not a glance over the debates make it clear that this is the fact? and that, while Parliament and public are alike occupied with these mischievous interferences, these Utopian hopes, the one thing needful is left almost undone?

     [Herbert Spencer, The Man Versus The State]

     Spencer was one of the greatest intellects of the Nineteenth Century, nor can anyone justly claim to have surpassed him. He saw clearly. He told us about what he saw forthrightly. And what was he saying in the above? Design to function! As straitly as possible, have your instrument do the thing for which it was fashioned, and nothing else. Even if we omit all abstract considerations of things such as freedom, justice, and the rights of men, there can be no profit in assigning a great many responsibilities to a single instrument.

     That is: except for the profit that accrues to those who loot it.

* * *

     Forgive me, Gentle Reader. The above is the consequence of having crossed the path of one who seemed a sincere liberal. His grail is “compassion in government.” He felt it as imperative as dispensing justice and protecting the nation from invasion. I could not sway him. Ultimately I had to conclude that for him, charity was a “design point:” something absolutely required of the State. The absurdity of an institution whose sole method is force undertaking to dispense the milk of human kindness did not reach him.

     Well, I suppose I should restrict my outreach efforts to those who can be persuaded. Now it’s back to fiction. This next novel will be special! Not only will it tell a gripping story that expresses deep truths about the human condition; it will also present and analyze an entirely new chess opening and include the C.S.O.’s twelve favorite cake recipes! Coming Soon to a website near you.

Sententious Sentiment About Sentience

     Forgive me for the title, Gentle Reader. It was an opportunity I couldn’t allow to pass. But here I am digressing before I’ve even begun.

     Consider this tweet from an impressive young woman:

“Science cannot solve the ultimate mystery of nature. And that is because, in the last analysis, we ourselves are part of nature and therefore part of the mystery that we are trying to solve”.
— Max Planck

Which makes me wonder: are we the explorers of the universe, or is the… pic.twitter.com/T6iqMeEEFt

— Taya (@travelingflying) January 8, 2026

     I was unfamiliar with the Planck quote before this. It called to mind something Professor John Lennox said:

     "Nonsense remains nonsense, even when it comes from the mouths of famous scientists."

     The nonsense is expressed in the phrase “solve the ultimate mystery of nature.” Who is trying to do any such thing? For that matter, what is “the ultimate mystery of nature?” Were I to ask a hundred randomly selected persons to explain that phrase, I’d expect a hundred different answers. (The C.S.O. just contributed this: “Two or three hundred, if they were Jewish.” She would know.)

     However, Taya’s addendum piqued my personal interest:

     “[A]re we the explorers of the universe, or is the universe exploring itself through us?”

     I stumbled near to that in what I believe to be my best novel, the one for which I’d like to be remembered:

     As they entered the great room that contained the wine vats, Ray pulled Larry aside and whispered “What are we about to see?”
     Larry shook his head. “I haven’t seen it myself.”
     “What additives and clarifying agents will you require?” Ottavio said as they walked past the vats.
     “None,” Fountain said.
     “Then what is your method?”
     “You will see.”
     The others hung back as Ottavio directed Fountain to the vat of unclarified Malbec. The Monti vats were made of aged wood bound in black iron bands. They were smaller than those at Broadhead. Their bases rested flat on the villa floor. The room was filled with the aromas of wine, yeast, and fermentation.
     Fountain imperceptibly took command of her host. She urged him close to the vat, took his hands and set them against its surface, moved to stand behind him, slid her arms around his chest, and rested her chin upon his shoulder. They stood thus in silence for perhaps half a minute. Within her embrace, Ottavio Monti trembled as if his strength were being tried to its limits.
     “What is it you feel?” she murmured against his cheek. “Tell me everything.”
     “Wood,” he said. “Rough, warm wood. And...the wine. And...” His voice dropped most of an octave. “And life.” He trembled in her embrace. “It is alive! But the vat is two hundred years old and the wine is grapes crushed to a sauce! How can this be?”
     “All things are alive,” Fountain whispered. “All things are aware. What else do you feel?”
     “I...” His tremor intensified.
     “Tell me, Ottavio Monti.” She squeezed him gently. “It is safe. It is right.”
     “Love,” he whispered incredulously. “Your love. And mine.”
     “All things know love,” she said in the voice of an oracle dispensing a mystical revelation. “And all things respond to love and return it in equal measure. Do you love the wine?”
     “Si, molto.”
     “Then tell it so,” Fountain said. She laid a hand over his heart. “From here, Ottavio. Use any words, any language you like, but tell it that you love it and listen for its answer.”
     The vintner of Villa Monti closed his eyes and bowed his head. Fountain held him snugly.
     Larry, Trish, and Domenico Monti stood transfixed. Ray murmured the Lord’s Prayer under his breath.
     “Gran Dio!” Ottavio whispered.
     He pulled his hands from the vat and dropped to his knees. Fountain released him, ascended the steps to the vat’s rim, took up the dipper that hung there, extracted a cup of wine, and descended. She knelt before Ottavio and offered him the dipper.
     “Taste it.”
     He did. His eyes brimmed over. He handed the dipper back to Fountain.
     “Now do you see?” she said.
     He smiled through his tears and nodded.
     She rose, brought the dipper to the others, and bade them taste it. They did, in turn.
     “Wow,” Larry said.
     “Oh my God,” Ray said.
     “As good as Broadhead’s, maybe even better,” Trish said.
     “Gloria a Dio,” Domenico said.
     Fountain nodded serenely.

     “All things are alive. All things are aware.” I’m not the first to explore that idea. Orson Scott Card did so in his Alvin Maker series. Perhaps others have done so as well.

     But is there even the slightest possibility that it’s true? Given what we know about life and consciousness, it seems impossible. But in all candor and humility, how much do we really know about those things?

     In his magnum opus Star Maker, Olaf Stapledon imagined the universe as an entity slowly evolving toward cosmic sentience, ultimately to mate with its Creator. It’s a grand vision, arguably the largest any science fiction writer has ever entertained, but it’s the reverse of the one Fountain expresses in my snippet: that even the tiniest things possess a form of sentience and responsiveness.

     Before we go any deeper into this morass, the above is a fictional premise. It’s not one I put my personal stock in. Besides, Fountain might have been overly broad, mightn’t she? For her to perform her miracles, only living things and things derived from them need the properties of which she speaks.

     Yet in a romantic way, that premise appeals to a yearning all men possess: the desire to be loved and valued, as widely and greatly as possible. If the whole universe were aware and could love you, whether in its tiniest bits or as a mighty whole, what would it be worth to you to have that love?

     What about the Figure behind the universe? He whose will causes and sustains all things? How much is it worth to you to have His love?

     Just an early-morning thought.

The State And I

     “I don't mean that a business politician won't steal; stealing is his business. But all politicians are nonproductive. The only commodity any politician has to offer is jawbone. His personal integrity – meaning, if he gives his word, can you rely on it? A successful business politician knows this and guards his reputation for sticking by his commitments – because he wants to stay in business-go on stealing, that is-not only this week but next year and years after that. So if he's smart enough to be successful at this very exacting trade, he can have the morals of a snapping turtle, but he performs in such a way as not to jeopardize the only thing he has to sell, his reputation for keeping promises.”

     [Robert A. Heinlein, Time Enough For Love]

     “A man who doesn’t detest a bad government is a fool. And if there were such a thing as a good government on earth, it would be a great joy to serve it.”
     There we understood each other. “I know something of that joy,” I said.
     “Yes; so I judged.”

     [Ursula Le Guin, The Left Hand of Darkness]

     With the foofaurauw swirling around President Trump’s decision to depose Nicolas Maduro – which I find that I approve – I have a few reflections you might find relevant, or at least mildly entertaining.

     Evils come in many varieties. In particular, they’re not all the same size. The State is the largest organized agent of evil that we know of today. But States are not equal in size, nor in the evils they perpetrate.

     The view from 30,000 feet tends to make unequal things look closer to equal. But the differences remain. They’ll be acknowledged by those honest enough to see them plainly. So we weigh the evil of conscription against the evil of millions of lives being extinguished in gas chambers, and decide temporarily in favor of the former.

     Would I prefer that the United States have no government – i.e., that we become the Untied Anarchies? Why, yes. Can I bring that about? Sadly, no. Moreover, geopolitical reality dictates that it not be that way for the foreseeable future.

     A world partitioned into States is a world where the choice will always be among evils. That is the world we live in and must endure.

* * *

     From the available evidence, Nicolas Maduro was at the top of one of the most evil regimes in the history of Man. Worse, he sought to inflict harm on America and Americans. He oversaw both the smuggling of fentanyl and the migration of gangsters and other criminals into our country. He is, in other words, a very bad guy.

     President Donald Trump decreed that Maduro should fall. American armed forces went forth to see to it. Acting with a degree of precision altogether unprecedented in warfare, they captured Maduro and brought him to the United States to face trial. This both gives Venezuelans a chance to improve their lot and puts other socialist despots on notice that their futures are not assured.

     I approve. Indeed, I applaud. Our State did something to reduce the threats to Americans, and to reduce the amount of evil in the world. It did so because President Trump wanted it done. He is a good man who has arranged for a good thing to be done.

     I can disapprove of the institution of the State and hope that it will someday cease to exist, while acknowledging that it has done something of which I approve.

* * *

     Many theorists and commentators in the Right regard the State as a necessary evil. We’re all familiar with the concept and the justifications advanced in support of it. Probably the best of them conceives of the State as an instrument rather than an institution. If that instrument could be confined, somehow, to the protection of life, liberty, and property, then it would be an agent not of evil but of justice. It would be worthy of the support of good men.

     Of course, as is always the case, the most important word in the previous paragraph is if.

     Since early in the Twentieth Century, we have been unable to confine our State to justifiable activities. More recently, we’ve been given a chance to limit it somewhat. Confine it completely to its proper bounds? No. But the Trump Administration has striven in the direction of less coercion and greater freedom. It’s marching in the right direction. Freedom lovers can’t ask much more than that, circumstances being what they are.

     It’s petty and sour-mouthed to react to the capture of Maduro by saying “Well, yeah, but when are you going to do something about firearms rights, or regulatory overreach, or taxation?” A good deed should be applauded for itself. Yes, we want more. It’s understandable to clamor for still more pro-freedom actions. Don’t disparage other improvements, even if they seem small, simply because they aren’t what you were hoping for. The removal of Nicolas Maduro from power is an improvement.

Things That Last And Things That Don’t

     I tire more easily these days than when I was younger. That’s to be expected of an aging body, of course. I certainly expected it. What I didn’t expect was the onset of a steadily deepening intellectual weariness, born of having to say the same things over and over again, as if no one were listening previously. Instead of the willingness to explain, I’m beset by fatigue and a kind of resignation: “They don’t get it. Maybe they never will.”

     The nonsense about America having violated Venezuela’s sovereignty has triggered that reaction. Domestic Leftists and international opponents of the Trump Administration are shrieking it as if it were God’s own law. Permit me a little foreshadowing: it isn’t.

     I’ve been here before innumerable times. “It’s such a simple thing!” I mutter to myself. I want to shake it off and think about anything else, but when the subject is this important, I can’t allow myself to do that.

     Okay, Gentle Reader. One more time.

* * *

     In my Baseline Essay on this subject, I wrote:

     One of the key concepts in international political discourse is sovereignty: the attribute a State possesses when it is effectively unchallenged within its boundaries, and is conceded by other States to be legitimate in that position. At one time, we spoke of "sovereigns" -- kings -- who were literally the personal possessors of the power of their States. Today the concept is more diffuse, extending to the government as a distributed entity rather than to an absolute monarch.
     Sovereignty is less a thing possessed by right than a thing conceded. The concession is important, for a State is unlikely to be able to hold its own against any and all opposition. A sufficiently large, sufficiently well motivated coalition of other States could bring it down. So State A's sovereignty depends more on the indulgence of other States, for whatever reasons, than on its claims to legitimacy.
     Now and then that becomes rather obvious. The Taliban claimed sovereignty over Afghanistan, but America decided otherwise. Saddam Hussein's Baathist dictatorship claimed sovereignty over Iraq, but once again, America decided otherwise.

     I thought that was a clear, easily comprehended statement. And to be fair, some did read and understand it. But many did not. More to the point, many refuse to understand it. It cross-cuts their agenda.

     The treaties we call the Peace of Westphalia, signed in the German cities of Munster and Osnabruck in 1648, constitute the first attempt of the Christian Era to define sovereignty. The great quarrels of the era had been about religion, but as always when States are involved, the real issue was force: who possesses it, who authorizes its use, and what others may “legitimately” do about it.

     The conception of sovereignty reached then was a compromise. It sought to achieve a limitation upon warmaking, which up to then had been practiced not just by kings but by lesser powers avid to impose their wills upon others of their kind. The Westphalian treaties explicitly reserved the privilege of warmaking to monarchs – sovereigns – and forbade it to others. But note this: those treaties did not call into existence a supranational entity with the power to enforce that agreement. The job was left to the aforementioned monarchs.

     Here we are, 378 years later, and there is still no supranational entity capable of enforcing anyone’s sovereignty against anyone else’s contrary opinion. The reason is quite simple: the States of Earth will not permit it.

     If such a supranational organization were to exist, it alone would be indisputably sovereign; i.e., it alone would possess sufficient power to sustain itself against the contentions of “lesser” States. Those lesser ones would exist and wield power only for as long as the supra-State should allow it.

     The national governments of Britain, France, China, the Soviet Union, and the United States of America would never have given the United Nations that kind of power. It would have reduced them to vassals of the UN, utterly dependent upon its dictates – and those who govern the UN would have made sure that the condition would be permanent.

     Thus, when I wrote:

     The States of Earth exist in an anarchic relation to one another. Each has its own regional code of law, which might differ markedly from all the others. Despite several thrusts at the matter over the centuries, there is no "super-State" to enforce a uniform code of law over them all. More, they view one another as competitors in many different areas; their populations and institutions are often in sharp economic competition with one another. Thus, they are often at odds. They resolve important disputes among them through negotiation or warfare.

     …I didn’t think I needed to explain why; in my naivety I thought it would be “obvious.” The States of Earth want it that way.

* * *

     The sovereignty of Venezuela’s government was wholly dependent upon the tacit agreement, by other States, that they would refrain from toppling it. Time was, in this connection a State only had to worry about its geographical neighbors. That’s not the case any longer. The United States of America, the Russian Federation, and Red China have “long arms.” Each possesses sufficient power to negate the sovereignty of other states… provided the other two permit it.

     That is all “sovereignty” means today. It’s also what passes for “stability” today. No one has to like it. I’m sure Nicolas Maduro doesn’t.

Unkillable

     It’s been said innumerable times that “you can’t kill an idea.” It’s true, even if the notion of “killing” is only metaphorically applicable to something nonliving. Ideas cannot be quenched once and for all. It doesn’t even matter whether an idea has any advocates. If it has ever existed in the mind of even one man now deceased, it could rise again.

     The world is in a flutter over the American operation to capture Nicolas Maduro and his wife and extract them from Venezuela to face trial here. Good thing? Bad thing? American overreach? Violation of “international law?” Venezuelans worldwide don’t care. They approve of President Trump’s decision to send Delta Force to collect the miscreant. I find myself in agreement with them.

     Maduro, you may recall, “inherited” the office of Maximum Leader from the late Hugo Chavez. Chavez, Venezuela’s first openly socialist president, swiftly dismantled the country upon accession to the presidency. He seized, nationalized, and suppressed. He ignored Venezuela’s constitution, took total control of the machinery of election, and essentially prohibited organized political opposition. He took the richest and most successful nation in South America and transformed it into a violent, poverty-stricken hellhole.

     Maduro took Chavez’s position and intensified his policies. Whether he did so because he sincerely held socialist convictions or because he just liked wielding power is unknown. Venezuelans starved, stole, cannibalized, and fled. Maduro never relented, no matter how severe the poverty and squalor became. But now he’s gone, and ordinary Venezuelans are openly rejoicing.

     But some people can’t – or won’t – learn from others’ bad experiences. New York City has just elected a Muslim Communist as its mayor.

     The consequences are already coming:

     New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani has appointed Cea Weaver as the Director of the City Office to Protect Tenants. Presumably, a position intended to stand behind the rights of housing tenants against the property owner. However, Ms. Weaver has some remarkable views on private property and home ownership.
     In this video clip below you will notice Ms. Weaver outline how homeowners will need to modify their view on their property ownership to reflect a new municipal perspective that considers all individually owned property to be part of a new collective property viewpoint as controlled by city government.

NYC Mayor Mamdani's Tenant Director, Cea Weaver:

"We'll transition from treating property as an individual good to a collective good. Whites especially will be impacted." pic.twitter.com/RZSdCs8oEa

— End Wokeness (@EndWokeness) January 5, 2026

     Thought that apartment building was yours, Big Apple resident? Thought that condominium was yours? Thought that brownstone was yours? Nope. There’s no longer any private property in the Five Boroughs of New York. It’s all part of a “collective good” that will be administered by the city government.

     Watch your ass, especially if you’re white. Heap Big Tenant Protector Cea Weaver has given you notice.

     The remarkable thing about this is how unabashed Mamdani and his cohort are about it all. They’re right out front about their convictions and their policies. Are they sincere, are they playing for power, or are they just cat’s-paws for a larger, shadowy network of power-mongers? Does it matter? The consequences won’t vary with how earnest they are. New York City is about to become Pyongyang on the Hudson.

     If Nicolas Maduro is allowed to read a newspaper, he must be laughing his slats off at this development.

     I used to believe that the seductions of socialism required that its target population be ignorant of its record in power. I can’t believe that any longer. New Yorkers may be foolishly attached to the Democrat Party, but as a rule they’re neither ignorant nor stupid.

     The Russians deposed their Soviet masters. The Warsaw Pact nations did the same. At least one of them – Romania – executed its former ruler. The sole remaining bastions of Communism are Cuba and North Korea.

     And New York City.

     The events of the late Twentieth Century killed several socialist / Communist regimes. It did not kill the Communist ideology. But the Communist ideology may be about to kill New York, at one time regarded as the greatest city in the world.

Conversations

     Today’s showers are usually equipped with mixing valves attached to a single-lever control. The user moves the lever to set the flow of water to his preferred temperature and leaves it there. But the earliest mixing valves were designed with little or no frictional resistance to movement. That made them prone to changing the setting without the user’s approval, which resulted in a number of scalding victims. Mixing valves were redesigned to incorporate significant friction.

     The C.S.O., though no weakling, has a hard time getting the temperature of her shower just the way she likes it. Apparently the valve’s friction is a little too stiff for her fine motor skills. That forces her to jog the lever back and forth until by sheer chance the Malevolence of the Inanimate relents and the lever settles at just the right temperature for a nice shower. She was complaining about that just this morning, which resulted in the following exchange:

FWP: (Explains the changes to mixing valves)
CSO: We didn’t have that in Queens. We had separate hot and cold taps.

FWP: (becomes expansive) Those were the days! Men were men, back then. You took what you could get, by God! Then you went out to play with your stick.
CSO: And your rock.

FWP: (stunned) You had a rock, too?
CSO: Yeah, we were one of the better-off families.

FWP: I never knew I married into money!
CSO: Ahh, it was nothing. I used to date a guy from Bensonhurst who had two rocks.
FWP: (too astounded to continue)

     (Yes, Gentle Reader. These conversations actually happen.)

For Epiphany

     Yes, yes, I know: traditionally the Feast of Epiphany is celebrated on January 6. Nevertheless, the Church allows American Catholics to celebrate it on the Sunday immediately after January 1. And so: Happy Epiphany to my Gentle Readers.

     If you’re near to my age, it’s possible that when you were in school, one of your teachers would read the tale of Artaban, “the Other Wise Man,” in class on a school day near to January 6. Artaban, you see, was the Magian who “fell behind,” and thus was not with with Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar – the three Wise Men of the Gospels – in honoring the newborn Christ Child. That story, written by Henry van Dyke in 1895, is a thing of simple beauty and remarkable grace. Its conclusion, which is set upon the day of the Crucifixion, is what matters most:

     Artaban's heart beat unsteadily with that troubled, doubtful apprehension which is the excitement of old age. But he said within himself: "The ways of God are stranger than the thoughts of men, and it may be that I shall find the King, at last, in the hands of his enemies, and shall come in time to offer my pearl for his ransom before he dies."
     So the old man followed the multitude with slow and painful steps toward the Damascus gate of the city. Just beyond the entrance of the guardhouse a troop of Macedonian soldiers came down the street, dragging a young girl with torn dress and dishevelled hair. As the Magian paused to look at her with compassion, she broke suddenly from the hands of her tormentors, and threw herself at his feet, clasping him around the knees. She had seen his white cap and the winged circle on his breast.
     "Have pity on me," she cried, "and save me, for the sake of the God of Purity! I also am a daughter of the true religion which is taught by the Magi. My father was a merchant of Parthia, but he is dead, and I am seized for his debts to be sold as a slave. Save me from worse than death!"
     Artaban trembled.
     It was the old conflict in his soul, which had come to him in the palm-grove of Babylon and in the cottage at Bethlehem--the conflict between the expectation of faith and the impulse of love. Twice the gift which he had consecrated to the worship of religion had been drawn to the service of humanity. This was the third trial, the ultimate probation, the final and irrevocable choice.
     Was it his great opportunity, or his last temptation? He could not tell. One thing only was clear in the darkness of his mind--it was inevitable. And does not the inevitable come from God?
     One thing only was sure to his divided heart--to rescue this helpless girl would be a true deed of love. And is not love the light of the soul?
     He took the pearl from his bosom. Never had it seemed so luminous, so radiant, so full of tender, living lustre. He laid it in the hand of the slave.
     "This is thy ransom, daughter! It is the last of my treasures which I kept for the King."
     While he spoke, the darkness of the sky deepened, and shuddering tremors ran through the earth heaving convulsively like the breast of one who struggles with mighty grief.
     The walls of the houses rocked to and fro. Stones were loosened and crashed into the street. Dust clouds filled the air. The soldiers fled in terror, reeling like drunken men. But Artaban and the girl whom he had ransomed crouched helpless beneath the wall of the Praetorium.
     What had he to fear? What had he to hope? He had given away the last remnant of his tribute for the King. He had parted with the last hope of finding him. The quest was over, and it had failed. But, even in that thought, accepted and embraced, there was peace. It was not resignation. It was not submission. It was something more profound and searching. He knew that all was well, because he had done the best that he could from day to day. He had been true to the light that had been given to him. He had looked for more. And if he had not found it, if a failure was all that came out of his life, doubtless that was the best that was possible. He had not seen the revelation of "life everlasting, incorruptible and immortal." But he knew that even if he could live his earthly life over again, it could not be otherwise than it had been.
     One more lingering pulsation of the earthquake quivered through the ground. A heavy tile, shaken from the roof, fell and struck the old man on the temple. He lay breathless and pale, with his gray head resting on the young girl's shoulder, and the blood trickling from the wound. As she bent over him, fearing that he was dead, there came a voice through the twilight, very small and still, like music sounding from a distance, in which the notes are clear but the words are lost. The girl turned to see if some one had spoken from the window above them, but she saw no one.
     Then the old man's lips began to move, as if in answer, and she heard him say in the Parthian tongue:
     "Not so, my Lord! For when saw I thee an hungered and fed thee? Or thirsty, and gave thee drink? When saw I thee a stranger, and took thee in? Or naked, and clothed thee? When saw I thee sick or in prison, and came unto thee? Three-and--thirty years have I looked for thee; but I have never seen thy face, nor ministered to thee, my King."
     He ceased, and the sweet voice came again. And again the maid heard it, very faint and far away. But now it seemed as though she understood the words:
     "Verily I say unto thee, Inasmuch as thou hast done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, thou hast done it unto me."
     A calm radiance of wonder and joy lighted the pale face of Artaban like the first ray of dawn, on a snowy mountain-peak. A long breath of relief exhaled gently from his lips.
     His journey was ended. His treasures were accepted. The Other Wise Man had found the King.

     Far too many younger readers failed to “get the message.” For them the excitement of Christmas wasn’t about the birth of the Savior; it was about decorations, music, sweets, and the pile of presents under the tree. Some took Artaban to be a tragic figure, when in truth he was the Magian who best exemplified the charity and humility Christ preached in His years of active ministry to the Judeans.

     Christmas has been “secularized” these past few decades. Today, even non-Christians and the wholly irreligious can have a part in it. But the Savior’s message has not changed; it cannot. From the Gospel according to Matthew:

     When the Son of man shall come in his glory, and all the holy angels with him, then shall he sit upon the throne of his glory: And before him shall be gathered all nations: and he shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats: And he shall set the sheep on his right hand, but the goats on the left.
     Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.
     Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungred, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink? When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee? Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee?
     And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.

     [Matthew 25:31-40]

     Happy they who can answer thus when He returns.

     May God bless and keep you all.

A Poignant Thought

     Happy New Year!

     For some the prospects the New Year offers are offset by the frustrations of the year before. That’s particularly so for the indie writer:

I sold 22 books in 2025 😭🙌🏻✨

— Tai Harrow - Indie Author (@taiharrow) January 2, 2026

     I don’t know that lady, but her bittersweet announcement strikes a chord with me. 22 books! God alone knows how long and hard she labored over her offerings. And while 22 is better than zero, I’m sure her aspirations ran to higher numbers.

     There are a lot of us. We probably outnumber writers published by conventional publishing houses by a couple of orders of magnitude. And it’s a given that not all of us are really good writers or storytellers. But the doggedness of the indie writer carries a meaning independent of whether he’s got all the assets of a Steinbeck, a Hemingway, or a Faulkner.

     There are stories in him. Regardless of his abilities, he wants to tell them. And they might just need to be told. If you’re my age or older, you might remember this tag line from an old television show:

     There are eight million stories in the naked city. This has been one of them.

     That show focused on a single police precinct in New York City. It was widely acclaimed. Yet it told stories embedded in relatively ordinary lives.

     A human life is composed of stories. Some are complete; others are “works in progress.” Some shriek with immediacy. And very few are ever told.

* * *

     Long ago, I wrote:

     The distribution of writers attempting the e-publication channel goes something like this:

• 90% or more: Persons who cannot write and should not try.
• ~7%: Persons with a fair command of English, but who have no stories to tell that anyone else would want to read.
• ~2%: Persons with a fair command of English who have stories to tell, but whose styles and preconceptions are unsuited to telling them in a winning fashion.
• ~1%: Capable storytellers, including a significant number who could crack the “traditional” publishing channels (or who already have).

     I rather regret that partition. I’ve come to believe that everyone has one or more stories in him. He may not have the ability to tell them in a winning way, but they’re there nonetheless. If they press him fiercely enough, they’ll come out: perhaps just in conversation over a beer, but they will be told. And those to whom they are told will feel their impact.

     I’ve encountered quite a number of other indie writers these past fifteen years. (We tend to cluster. After all, no one else will have us.) They share the need to tell stories. Even the least capable of us is responding to pressures he cannot withstand.

     Yet answering “What do you do?” with “I’m a writer” is the most reliable way I know of making the asker excuse himself and head for refuge. Sometimes it works even if the asker is an aspiring writer himself. Try it at your next social gathering.

     Even once set down in print or pixels, some stories remain “untold” de facto. No one listens. Perhaps that’s what keeps America’s legion of therapists in business.

* * *

     Don’t mind me. After all, I’m just a talkative old man. As I’ve said before, I write these pieces mainly for myself. That includes the stories I tell. No one is obliged to listen, and few do. But I do have a point.

     You have stories in you. So do the people around you. They want to tell theirs at least as urgently as you want to tell yours. They might not be articulate. They might not have patience enough to do all that typing and formatting. But their need is no less than yours.

     Among the simplest and greatest of charities is the gift one gives by listening.

     Just an early-morning thought.

Smith, Jones, And Coming To America 2026

     There’s quite a bit of contention over why immigrants to our shores seek to come here. Yet the answer generalizes neatly:

• Immigrant Smith comes for an improved chance to get something: e.g., freedom from persecution or a materially better life;
• Immigrant Jones comes to serve a superior mandate.

     Those motivations sometimes blend.

     We saw Smiths from Europe almost exclusively during the “open immigration” period from the end of the Civil War up to the 1965 Hart/Celler Act. Since then, there’s been a mixture of Smiths and Joneses. The Smiths of recent years have included a significant number of predators and gang affiliates from Mexico and Central America. The Joneses have largely been Muslims.

     President Trump has put great emphasis on stanching the flow of illegal migrants and migrants from hostile cultures. In doing so, he’s nudged the balance back toward the European Smiths: persons from largely Christian cultures who could be expected to assimilate. This is a good thing. The “unmeltables” have greatly exacerbated our racial and ethnic tensions. Several ethnic exclaves, particularly in the Southwest, are populated largely by “unmeltables” and illegals.

     But of course, there are persons on the Left who condemn Trump’s changes as “inhumane.” By their standards, it’s a violation of our ethics to insist that newcomers actually become law-abiding Americans… first and foremost, by complying with our immigration laws. The Dishonorable Charles Schumer (D, NY) has openly defended the illegals and vowed to seek a “pathway to citizenship” for them:

Chuck Schumer: “Our ultimate goal is to get a path to citizenship for all 11 million or however many undocumented there are here."

I'ts right out in the open. https://t.co/KmvyjIN5xb pic.twitter.com/XFlStXb1BF

— Western Lensman (@WesternLensman) January 1, 2026

     Leftists who favor making no distinction between legal and illegal immigrants usually claim that the illegals are all Smiths. “They came here for a better life!” Even if we omit consideration of the immigration laws, this is a deliberate effacement of an important distinction. Some of those Smiths seek “a better life” by preying on others. Indeed, some were sent here by even bigger predators, to serve those bigger ones’ aims.

     As for the Joneses, we must deem them invaders ab initio, regardless of whether they wear uniforms or tote weapons. This is particularly the case for Muslims. Islam forbids the Muslim to acknowledge any allegiance other than Islam. Thus, the Muslim is required to remain conscious at all times that his creed commands him to subjugate all persons everywhere to the dictates of Islam.

     The nations of Europe have been battered nearly to destruction for failing to accept this fact. Islam has penetrated Europe so deeply that its clerics now openly proclaim their intention that Islam and sharia law shall rule throughout the Old World. Europe’s governments, with a handful of exceptions, have postured as either indifferent to those threats or powerless to oppose them.

     That’s a summary of large-scale human mobility at the beginning of the Year of Our Lord 2026. Individuals’ motives for migration are all subsumed by the Smith / Jones dichotomy. Are there a few Smiths scattered among the Joneses, or vice versa? No doubt. Might some Joneses prove tractable in the long run, capable of renouncing their original aims and becoming loyal Americans? The odds are against it, but I hesitate to say it can’t happen.

     I will say only this: Beware. That is, be aware. If there are migrants in your community, do your best to know which ones are Smiths and which are Joneses. Treat carefully with the Smiths, but be even more wary of the Joneses. And under no circumstances let the Joneses build fortresses among you, no matter how they represent themselves or their institutions! Not opposing them from the outset could ultimately cost your life, or the lives of your descendants.

Some End-Of-Year Thoughts

     Janus has been prodding at my backbrain, prompting me to think those classical end-of-year thoughts. Specifically, I’ve been thinking about how I’d like 2026 to differ from 2025, both for me personally and in larger ways.

     Janus, for those not familiar with the mythology of ancient Rome, was the god of doorways. He was usually depicted as two-faced, one face looking backward and the other looking forward. The passage from one year to the next was especially deemed his kind of transition. I made use of him in Doors:

     “Every decision changes us. Even the little ones. And we can’t know beforehand how much.”
     “I wouldn’t have expected you to cite chaos theory on Christmas Eve,” she said.
     “It’s not that so much as the nature of time. Do you know the myth of Janus?”
     She shook her head.
     “The Roman god of doorways. He had two faces, one facing forward and one facing back. He symbolized choices and transitions. We seldom face a choice knowing everything that will come of making it either way. We can’t avert the consequences of our choices, and we can’t undo them afterward. Once we step through that door, it locks itself against us.”

     For someone like your humble Curmudgeon, sunk deep in years and choices made along the way, it can seem unlikely that any decision I could make now would have a great effect on the years to come, whether mine or others’. (To the advanced grammarians among my Gentle Readers, if any: Is there a rule against ending a sentence with a possessive? If so, please let me know. Thanks.) But there’s chaos theory to keep in mind, isn’t there? So perhaps I should respect the unboundedness of the possibilities.

* * *

     Among my enduring resolutions is one I adopted long ago: always to speak the truth as I see it. That’s not an unmixed virtue. Truth often hurts. Many an unpleasant truth has come my way these past seven decades. On those occasions when I’ve expressed them publicly, the reaction has nearly always been fury, sometimes bordered on violence.

     In Kurt Vonnegut’s novel Cat’s Cradle, he includes a quasi-religion that advocates “living by the foma:” i.e., falsehoods that give comfort rather than the abrasion of unlimited truth. It’s uncertain whether Vonnegut meant that prescriptively. Yet a lot of people do live by such falsehoods. It may be that that’s their cushion against reality’s abrasions, and that they couldn’t bear to live without it.

     I can’t go that way. I have to see what is. Having seen it, I have to live with the knowledge. I’ve often felt an obligation to pass such knowledge along, even if it will hurt the recipients.

     The awareness of the hurt I’ve caused by doing that has made me think some very dark thoughts. Paramount among them is one I’ve dwelt on to my chagrin.

     Very few of us are poised at the levers of history. Very few of us can effectuate even small changes to what is. If in expressing a painful perception or insight to someone else who has no such power, I cause him unhappiness, I’ve darkened his personal reality to no good consequence. Why do such a thing? Why not keep my dark awarenesses to myself and let him rest in his greater comfort?

     Try that one on for yourself. Warning: it will pinch.

* * *

     I have a compulsion to think about what I see, and to express my inferences here and elsewhere. I don’t know why. It probably indicates that I’m not getting enough sex. But whatever the reason, when I start thinking along the lines above, it makes me wonder whether the pain I cause is justified by the improvements I stimulate… if any. It may be that my only possibility of bringing a net benefit to others is by shutting up. It’s not possible to be certain. I can only wonder about it, and I do.

     I’d prefer – oh, greatly! – to see positive things, benign developments and possibilities, new and promising vistas. But I haven’t seen many such these past few decades. What I have seen suggests that what Robert A. Heinlein once called “the Renaissance Civilization” – i.e., the United States of America – is in terminal decline, the sociopolitical equivalent of Cheyne-Stokes respiration.

     That has colored my writing in two ways. The first affects these opinion pieces, which have grown gloomier with time. The second affects my fiction, which focuses on the decisions and actions of heroes, some of them unsung, sincerely determined to make things better for themselves and others. Which of those is the more “realistic” vision? Must one of them give way to the other?

     That’s a particularly gloomy thought.

* * *

     The Year of Our Lord 2026 is almost upon us. I don’t have any special wisdom about the year about to end, nor any insight into what will come. One of the realizations that comes with advanced age is that there’s little point in trying to foretell the future. For my part, I just hope to live through the coming year and get a few things done that I didn’t manage to finish in 2025.

     Wherever you are and whatever your station in life, I wish you, Gentle Readers, a Happy New Year. May 2026 bring you all the best that life has to offer… and may God bless and keep you all.

Dangerfield’s Syndrome

     Forgive me, Gentle Reader. It’s very early, I’ve been reading some disturbing stuff, and it has me in a foul mood. Two tweets in particular ignited the urge to blather about something that will offend at least half the human race.

     For those who may not have noticed – the Web does conceal a lot about those who rant here – I’m a man. Male, that is. A Y-chromosome bearer. Therefore, I share in the common burdens of the male half of my species. I try not to dwell on them; it’s not good for any of us. But the consciousness of some of those burdens can be difficult to suppress.

     Have a second look at the title of this piece. (For the moment, just the menfolk. The ladies will get their turn.) Know what I’m talking about now?

     The old saying that familiarity breeds contempt has a special application to male-female relations. Familiarity is rooted in the word family. Families of the traditional sort – one man, one woman, and some number of minor children, dogs, cats, and their appurtenances – don’t stay together for as long as they once did. If you’ve noticed that and wondered how to redress it, you’re not alone.

     Part of the reason is burgeoning contempt, especially hers toward him.

     Even at its most obvious, that can be puzzling. Why should she feel contempt for him? She married him, didn’t she? She claimed to love him, back then; has her love lapsed? If so, why?

     Remember the old slogan that love is the answer? We heard it a lot more often a few decades back. It was wrong then. It’s still wrong today. It’s especially wrong when applied to male-female relations, especially those of the (previously) intimate sort. The error inheres in a single word.

     Bide a moment while I fetch more coffee.

* * *

     Have a look at a particularly striking tweet:

"Only women, children and dogs are loved unconditionally. A man is only loved under the condition that he provides something." - Chris Rock

Changing this dynamic should be at the top of the priority list.

— Lisa Britton (@LisaBritton) December 30, 2025

     That was a stunner. It points to a truth that virtually no one is willing to face squarely. In part, that’s because there’s a misdirector in it. Once again, the misdirector consists of a single word.

     Have you found that word yet? No? Well, as it’s my job to illuminate things that elude other people, I shall tell you forthwith.

     The word is love.

     Miss Britton’s statement is both admirable and factually impeccable. However, the underlying disease isn’t a failure of love. For all the air time it gets, love isn’t a primary emotion. It’s a resultant that's made possible by other factors.

     Primary among those factors is respect.

     Many a relationship between a man and a woman is actually devoid of love. Her love of him, that is. She needn’t feel love to bind herself to him. She does need to acknowledge and respect his ability to protect her and provide for her. Say what you will about “modern women” and the contemporary independence thereof; she would never tie herself to him if he didn’t seem equal to the protect/provide role.

     There’s a lot of talk about how today’s women are all determined to hold out for a modern prince: tall, handsome, self-assured, chivalrous, and with at least a six-figure income. There’s a lot of truth in that. The expectation may be unreasonable, but a lot of women hold it even so. They’ve been told that he’s what they deserve.

     Young women, that is. After about age 30, their standards start to slip. In part that’s because of the “biological clock;” in other part, it’s because they own mirrors. Reality has banged on their doors for long enough to get their attention. Men they’d have dismissed a decade earlier start to look good; good enough for a trial run, at least.

     The complementarity of the sexes is hardwired into us. Women yearn for protectors and providers. Men are designed for the role, and seek to fulfill it. Eventually those urges overcome the propaganda. The desire to see oneself as deserving of a prince or a princess gives way before their power.

     If you’ve been wondering why we bear so many fewer children per couple than previous generations, that’s a part of the reason that’s much harder to face plainly than the various nostrums about “consumerism” and changes in the “economic value of progeny.”

* * *

     As time passes, the respect she feels for him can wane, and often does. This is especially prevalent if occupational and economic advancement eludes him. Those things are not automatic; indeed, many men never consciously seek them. Over time, it can seem to her that he’s just there. Marking time. Doing what he’s always done, with the rewards he’s always received. Her labors loom large in her consciousness, especially if she’s the mother of minor children. His do not.

     The diminution of respect that often proceeds from those perceptions is poison to a marriage. Yet it happens, especially between couples surrounded by other families that seem to be doing better. Her protestations of love start to ring hollow. He senses it through her behavior, which will always outweigh her words. The marriage begins to lose its cohesion.

     Five years, ten years, fifteen years… the interval will vary according to the characters of the participants. But the behavioral changes are consistent. She complains more and more, to him and to others. He develops a “wandering eye,” with adultery a frequent result.

     This isn’t about love. If there was love in any degree at the outset, it will begin to crumble as the respect that made love possible crumbles beneath it. But the respect is primary; the failure of love is a consequence.

* * *

     The above is a general, surface-level diagnosis of a common phenomenon. It’s unclear to me that there’s an antidote to it. Yet I’m confident that a lot of the midlife failure of sexual intimacy is explained by it. It’s less about loss of love than about his failure in her eyes to bring her what she married him for.

     But has he failed, truly? I don’t think so.

I care about men because im a human being being with empathy for Christ sake it’s not that hard is it? I feel protective toward those carrying silent weight and I always have. That’s called being in tune with this thing that we were given as human beings called the ability to…

— Chloe Roma (@The_RomaArmy) December 29, 2025

The Deepest Divide

     I’d intended to apologize for a sudden attack of intellectual sloth and declare a day off, but I have something on my mind that demands a piece, if only a brief one.

     You’re a Gentle Reader of Liberty’s Torch. That marks you as intelligent, erudite, on top of current events, and unusually handsome and charming. And that means you’re already aware of the enormous “daycare fraud” being perpetrated by Somalis in Minnesota. It’s a good thing you’re already aware, for the national media have done their best not to mention them.

     Citizen-journalist Nick Shirley has done excellent work at exposing these frauds. Not one of them has any children in its care. All are consuming federal and state funds with a voracity that would impress Ungoliant.

     The scandals that surround the scandal pertain to the Minnesota state government’s tolerance – nay, its protection – of these fraudulent institutions, and the complete failure of any national news organ to report on them. Governor Tim Walz, already a figure of considerable ignominy, has openly said that he will support the Somalians against ICE and the justice system. All in all, it forms a pile of ordure that would sicken Satan.

     If Satan were an American, that is. If he’s a Third Worlder or a Muslim, it’s business as usual, except for the embarrassment of getting caught with your hand in the till.

     If you were raised in the U.S. or in Europe, you were raised to Judeo-Christian moral-ethical standards: broadly speaking, the Noahide Commandments, of which the Ten Commandments of the Book of Exodus are a superset. Those standards are not common to persons reared outside the nations of Christendom. Third Worlders generally live by another rule:

Getting Away With It
Is All That Matters.

     Military science-fiction writer Tom Kratman has called this amoral familism. Of course, the term amoral implies a moral standard that an amoralist would deny. The standard of the First World, as previously mentioned, is the one delineated by the Ten Commandments.

     It doesn’t matter that we of the First World are shocked by the Somalian fraud system. That is: it doesn’t matter to the Somalians. All that matters to them is getting away with it. They feel no guilt. They’re merely embarrassed about being exposed. They have powerful protectors, so there’s a good chance they’ll continue to get away with it. Should that protection fail, such that they’re indicted, tried, convicted, and imprisoned for their crimes, well, “them’s the breaks,” right? Imagine a big Third World shrug.

     Prison, by the way, would not change them. They’d come out as amoral as they went in.

     In this cleavage between the moral standard shared by the U.S. and Europe and the non-standard of the Third World lies the clinching argument against permitting Third Worlders to immigrate to the First World. To the Somalians, the U.S. is a goodie bowl from which to grab all they can get away with. Their attitude is shared by virtually all other Third Worlders. They start stealing as soon as they’re here. They don’t stop of their own accord; they must be stopped. To avert that calamity, they make use of every bleeding-heart slogan and epithet you’ve ever heard, with copious assistance from the American Left.

     (Why the American Left is so willing to defend these migratory vampires is a subject for another tirade. For now, just take it as written.)

     The 1965 Hart-Celler Act made it possible for Third Worlders to apply for entry to the United States, with the possibility of naturalization after five years’ residence. Beyond that, the Immigration and Nationality Act and the Refugee Act allow such persons to petition for asylum here, on the representation that they’re fleeing persecution. These were regarded as humanitarian reforms. However, as we have seen from the Somalians and other Third World arrivals to our shores, the humanitarianism is one-way only. Third Worlders don’t assimilate. They certainly don’t adopt the Judeo-Christian ethics that makes our open, generous, excessively trusting society possible.

     President Trump has said that he will deport them. I hope he’ll keep his word. For longer-range relief, the Hart-Celler Act and all legislation that draws from that foundation must be repealed in favor of an immigration policy that admits only those who can be expected to conform to Judeo-Christian moral-ethical standards, no matter what religion they profess. I imagine Buddhists would be fairly safe.

I Should Have Mentioned…

     What I write will henceforth appear here as well as at my Substack site. I’ve also decided to reproduce my essays from the now defunct “Version 2.0” site at a Blogger site. Further news will be forthcoming.

Attractively Packaged Lies

     Have a brilliantly compact observation from a brilliant source:

Any memetic structure that inhibits biological reproduction must necessarily transfer to the minds of those who do reproduce or it will die out.

They target the youth especially, because their mental firewalls are not yet strong. https://t.co/ICxY3e1Xq2

— Elon Musk (@elonmusk) December 28, 2025

     Bravo! I hope a great many people see the above and reflect on how nicely it characterizes the incentives faced by young Whites today. It also raises a parallel question: were the memetic firewalls of which Elon Musk speaks stronger in previous generations, or have those dedicated to the destruction of the White race and the civilizations it’s built become that much cleverer and more insidious?

     I’m suddenly in mind of an old Heinlein story:

     “Reason is poor propaganda when opposed by the yammering, unceasing lies of shrewd and evil and self-serving men. The little man has no way to judge and the shoddy lies are packaged more attractively. There is no way to offer color to a colorblind man, nor is there any way for us to give the man of imperfect brain the canny skill to distinguish a lie from a truth.”

     [From “Gulf,” in this collection.]

     To be sure, we’re all “men of imperfect brain.” Yet I have a sense that the generations before the great wars of the Twentieth Century were less easily swayed than those that followed. That may be because the examples of family structure were more attractive, more enduring, and less often challenged than are those of today. Today, “alternative” family “structures” abound. Long-term endurance isn’t common. And the promises they make, while seldom spoken aloud, are seductive.

     Young Whites of the prewar years grew up among intact nuclear families that tended to be larger than those of today. They were exclusively heterosexual. They were racially unblended. Childbearing was applauded. Infidelity was condemned. Divorce, while it did occur, imposed a stigma upon those divorcing, especially if minor children were involved.

     The rise of aggressive, subtly anti-family feminist ideology was a large factor as well. World War II forced many women into the workplace, which supplemented the feminist proposition that women could and should have “lives of their own,” apart from child-rearing and homemaking. A young woman’s prime childbearing years, if expended on wage-work, are forever lost. Meanwhile the Betty Friedans and Germaine Greers were exhorting young women to “make something of themselves” – to go to college or enter the workforce – rather than to leave themselves “dependent on a man.” Women’s magazines were increasingly used to reinforce that message.

     I hardly need to expound on the social and economic changes that followed the wars. Compared to the incentives presented to Whites of the prewar years, the differences could not be more striking. (They stand out even more starkly when compared to the incentives faced by young blacks.) The mental defenses of postwar generations were far more easily undermined than those of their predecessors. Many forces converged to do the undermining: schooling at all levels, the news media, the entertainment industries, and the activists perpetually deriding tradition in favor of “change.”

     Just this morning, a young friend – a young woman who recently opted to enlist in the Army – reminded me that inferences are always subject to dispute, and that opinions will vary. No question about that! Were the postwar changes to social structures, customs, and attitudes uniformly bad? Perhaps not; traditional ways aren’t always indisputable or unchallengeable. But they explain much about today’s reproductive malaise.

     Elon Musk spoke of “memetic firewalls” that are too weak to repel the ideological bombardment today’s young Whites endure. Add the great intensification of that bombardment, and it begins to seem that things could hardly have developed otherwise. But human happiness, which Aristotle called the consequence of right doing and right living, appears seriously endangered by the changes the youth of the preponderantly White First World nations have faced. Many who eschewed the old ways of faith, family, and community look back on their decisions with regret. Perhaps lessons are accumulating for those that follow them… however many or few they may be.

New Content At Fran’s Substack Site (Updated Regularly)

December 27, 2025:
Pogrom 2026

“There Were Shepherds Abiding In The Fields...”

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.
And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.
And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.
For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.
And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.
And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.
And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger.
And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child.
And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds.
But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.
And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.

[Luke 2:8-20]

     Hearken to the late, great Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen:

     When God came to Earth, there was no room in the inn, but there was room in the stable. What lesson is hidden behind the inn and the stable?

     What is an inn, but the gathering-place of public opinion, the focal point of the world’s moods, the residence of the worldly, the rallying place of the fashionable and those who count in the management of the world’s affairs? What is a stable, but the place of outcasts, the refuge of beasts, and the shelter of the valueless, and therefore the symbol of those who in the eyes of public opinion do not count and hence may be ignored as of no great value or moment? Anyone in the world would have expected to find Divinity in an inn, but no one would have expected to have found it in a stable….

     If, in those days, the stars of the heavens by some magic touch had folded themselves together as silver words and announced the birth of the Expected of the Nations, where would the world have gone in search of Him?

     The world would have searched for the Babe in some palace by the Tiber, or in some gilded house of Athens, or in some inn of a great city where gathered the rich, the mighty, and the powerful ones of Earth. They would not have been the least surprised to have found the newborn King of Kings stretched out on a cradle of gold and surrounded by kings and philosophers paying Him their tribute and obeisance.

     But they would have been surprised to have discovered Him in a manger, laid on coarse straw and warmed by the breath of oxen, as if in atonement for the coldness of the hearts of men. No one would have expected that the One whose fingers could stop the turning of Arcturus would be smaller than the head of an ox; that He who could hurl the ball of fire into the heavens would one day be warmed by the breath of beasts; that He who could make a canopy of stars would be shielded from a stormy sky by the roof of a stable; or that He who made the Earth as His future home would be homeless at home. No one would have expected to find Divinity in such a condition; but that is because Divinity is always where you least expect to find it….

     The world has always sought Divinity in the power of a Babel, but never in the weakness of a Bethlehem. It has searched for it in the inns of popular opinion, but never in the stable of the ignored. It has looked for it in the cradles of gold, but never in the cribs of straw – always in power, but never in weakness.

     [From God’s World and Our Place In It]

     Merry Christmas, Gentle Readers. And really, why not be merry? Why not rejoice and be glad? For the Savior of us all has come into the world: not as the son of royalty, laid in a gilded crib and wrapped about with silks and furs, but as the Child of two poor travelers, who birthed Him in a stable and laid Him in a manger. For He came not to counsel the great nor to lead armies into battle, but to heal our souls: to make us worthy of eternal life in His nearness, if only we accept Him and His gift.

     Peace on Earth, and good will toward men!