This month’s movie has absolutely nothing to do with the failed “raid” on Area 51. Nope. Not at all. I can’t imagine why you’d even think so. And if you don’t find me convincing, just wait until you see The Disappearance of Flight 412. Alas, this was a television movie, so we don’t have trailers for it, but please…enjoy this little introduction.
I wrote this in 2015 for my patrons. I didn’t publish it then for several reasons. I wanted to let emotions settle so people might be able to hear this better, but there were other reasons I barely remember too. But watching the news of the Amber Guyger trial is making it all too relevant again.
One of the things that disturbed me most in the discussions that followed the terrorist murders of Charlie Hebdo staff early this year was the invocation by atheist activists of fear. It reminded me all too much of the days after thousands lost their lives in the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001.
I recognize a degree of strangeness to that. The point of a terrorist attack is to create fear in a group of people. It’s unsurprising when this works.
Nor is it surprising that activists would seize on this fear. Fear is an effective motivator, and inertia and indifference are the bane of activists. On top of that, the Charlie Hebdo attack targeted a group of activists who (among other things and using means that we should examine and question, as with any other activists) worked against the political power of Islamists. While not every atheist activist proclaimed, “Je suis Charlie“, it was entirely predictable that many would identify with the targets of the attack.
In our fear, we made the world a worse place–for ourselves and others. We may even have increased the likelihood of the Charlie Hebdo shootings. It wasn’t our goal, but that doesn’t change what happened.
We’re bad at sitting with fear. When we have any choice, our priority is to “fix” our fear, to make it go away. That may mean avoiding a situation that needs our attention. It may mean acting even when we have only poor-quality choices. What acting out of fear usually doesn’t mean is making good, evidence-based decisions that take the humanity and dignity of other people fully into account. Continue reading “A Humanist Imperative Against Fear”→
There may be no sweeter words in the English language. At least no sweeter words for someone who’s spent three years with lawsuits hanging over their head and cleaning out their pocketbook. (We haven’t actually updated this yet with the most recent costs.)
The Plaintiff asks the Court to apply equitable tolling in this case and find that the statute of limitations will not bar his claim. The Court declines to do so. “Courts have generally reserved the remedy of equitable tolling for circumstances which were truly beyond the control of the plaintiff.” Ousley v. Rescare Homecare, No. 4:13-CV-00898-SPM, 2013 WL 5966050(E.D. Mo. Nov. 8, 2013)(citing Hill v. John Chezik Imps., 869 F. 2d 112, 1124 (8th Cir. 1989)). Plaintiff filed the case in Ohio within the Ohio and Missouri statues of limitation. Defendant was aware of potential jurisdictional defects in his case by way of Defendants’ Motion to dismiss for lack of personal jurisdiction on December 1, 2016, well within the Missouri statute of limitations. See (ECF No. 6-8, at 2 Plaintiff’s Motion for Prospective Equitable Tolling). Plaintiff was also aware of the possibility of his claim being time-barred should the Court grant Defendants’ Motion to Dismiss for lack of personal jurisdiction. Id. at 1 (stating “Plaintiff… hereby moves this honorable Court to apply the doctrine of equitable tolling to toll the statute of limitations for one year, in the prospective event this Court might grant Defendant’s motion to dismiss for lack of jurisdiction or for improper venue…”). Plaintiff has not argued that there was any impediment to him complying with the Missouri statute of limitation and has not indicated that anything prevented from filing in Missouri within Missouri’s two-year statute of limitation. Therefore, equitable tolling will not be applied in this case.
I thought we were mostly done with this after 2016. I thought we’d cleaned up the lingering bits of it after the 2018 midterms. But as the push to get people registered to vote in the 2020 primaries and general election ramps up, I’m seeing it again.
“If voting made a difference, it would be illegal.”
There’s just one problem with that. Voting is illegal.
Oh, it might not be illegal for you. If you belong to a population that isn’t over-policed and over-sentenced, if you were born in and have a stable residence in a “nice” (i.e., white and relatively wealthy) neighborhood, if your appearance is unremarkable among the voters at your polling station, then yeah, it’s probably perfectly legal for you to vote.
Public opinion doesn’t favor impeachment of Trump at this point.
If Trump is impeached, there is essentially 0% chance of the Senate voting to remove him from office.
Running against Pence in 2020 would be substantially harder than running against Trump.
The number one achievable political goal at this point, for the health of the country and the marginalized people within it, has to be Republicans losing control of as many governmental bodies as possible, starting with the executive branch but including Congress.
A small number of past Representatives who have voted to impeach have lost their seats at least in part because of these votes.
Many of Trump’s most damning crimes from an impeachment perspective involve acts that would be legal if he were a private citizen and live in an area of law few people other than specialists understand.
Impeachment proceedings will be viewed by some moderate/independent voters as a partisan act by Democrats.
Right-wing media, corporate and independent, would use impeachment proceedings to attack Democrats, often dishonestly, and there is a large segment of the voting population that only trusts these outlets.
The administration’s response to impeachment proceedings would provoke multiple constitutional crises of various sizes under an untested, very partisan Supreme Court.
Most Democrats in the House who haven’t come out in favor of impeachment are considering some or all of these factors and are right to do so carefully.
Even given all this, it’s critical for the survival of our constitutional system and many, many people that we move to impeach.
We talk a fair amount in the secular movement about the non-religious as a growing political force. We should. We are. But the problem is that we don’t have a lot of data about how we behave as voters. Truth be told, we don’t even always have a good picture of who we are. We just know there are more of us than there used to be.
Juhem Navarro-Rivera is a political scientist working to shed light on the topic. His latest project is the Secular Voices Panel, which will survey secular voters during the 2020 campaigns. Juhem joins us this Sunday to talk about why this work is important and what he’s already learned.
This post is brought to you courtesy of Patreon. If you want to support more work like this, you can sign up here. I haven’t been much more active on Patreon over the last couple of years than I have been here, but expect that to change soon.
I first named the phenomenon at the Moving Social Justice Forward conference in Los Angeles in 2014. It wasn’t the first question like this at the conference, by any means. It probably wasn’t the first conference where I’d heard a question like that either. It was, however, a perfect opportunity to notice.
The SSJ conference put activists of color, most of them black, on stage to talk about hands-on organizing and activism. The topics they covered were matters of life and death, though they often aren’t treated that way. In the secular movement, these subjects often aren’t covered at all.
Given all that, it wasn’t surprising for me to find myself part of a proportionally much smaller white audience at the event. I may even have been in the minority, though there were still a large number of white people in the audience. There were points during the Q&As when I wished there were fewer.
Q&As always have problems. No matter how carefully moderators specify their requirements, people will still decide the guidelines don’t apply to them. They ramble. They act as though they’d been invited to be onstage. They treat “Here is my opinion; don’t you agree?” as a question.
I noticed this specific problem for the first time at this conference when a panel of student activists combating the school-to-prison pipeline opened the floor to questions. “Have you tried talking to legislators?” Well, yes, of course they had, and they’d discussed legislation that might help, but they couldn’t wait for it to pass because people needed their help now. And they were achieving success with their methods.
There were other questions like this that weekend. Other activists talked about helping themselves and each other and were greeted with some form of “Have you tried going to the government for help?” It was this question, though, that made me realize I was listening to people ask, “Have you considered white people?”
I saw it again at the Social Justice panel at AHACon in May 2016. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this was the one majority-POC panel. The instructions were great. (I’m stealing “The shorter the better. Preferably one sentence ending in a question mark.”) A couple of the questions, however, included “I didn’t hear you say anything about voting” and something about Bernie Sanders.
Sunday’s show promises to be just a little bit geeky. Or maybe a lot geeky. Scott Lohman is joining me to talk with James Croft about the ethics of Star Trek. James presented a workshop on the topic at the Secular Student Alliance conference this summer, and when I heard about it, I knew I had to put the two of them together to talk about it. You may not hear me much on this week’s show, but know I’ll be grinning quietly in the studio.
I haven’t had much to say about the Atheist Community of Austin voting out a significant chunk of their board and losing multiple volunteers over work with a skeptic YouTuber who decided he needed to weigh in on trans women in sports. By and large, that’s because I haven’t had time to follow it all, and I can’t see how I could be any help by talking about the situation in ignorance.
(If you’re in the same position, you can watch these two interviews with former board members and volunteers. I’m not aware of similar summary explanations from the remaining organization, but I’d be happy to link to those as well. Still, I don’t think any of these are necessary for this post.)
I’ve also been thinking about the situation mostly from an organizational standpoint. One of the boards I’m on is in the middle of revising its bylaws, and the other has that on our to do list, so I’m thinking processes. Plus, last year, I had people say they were going to show up to vote against my election to the board because of my “intolerance” of their position on trans issues. We had to consult the bylaws to figure out how to let them do that, since I was running unopposed. Then they never showed. But I digress.
More recently, I’ve been going through my older posts for a couple of projects. As I did, I realized just how much of load of nonsense “mission creep” really was. Don’t get me wrong. I knew it was nonsense. I argued it was nonsense. I simply missed something important because I let others frame the argument. Continue reading “The Plank in the Skeptic’s Eye”→
In 2016, I took part in the Godless Perverts reading at Skepticon. The performance wasn’t recorded, which opened up the possibilities for more than one performer. It also means no one outside that room knows what I said there, until now.
I lucked out on sex education. My house was the place the other kids came to learn how babies were made and whether the things that were happening to their bodies and minds were normal. Me? I didn’t have to wonder. I had the information before I could ever get curious.
Now, of course, we were Minnesotan (fourth generation here), so that means we didn’t actually talk about any of this. It came out of books. That the books were radical says more about the time they were written than anything, about attempts to codify the openness of the Sixties and to prepare new generations to live in that open world. Though who knows? They might be radical again in a year or two.
That our house was the house for these books also says a lot. It says some things about poverty and education, given how and where I lived, but it also speaks to religion and shame. Strict rules around pleasure and sexuality were one of the reasons my parents abandoned organized religion and promised never to foist it on their children. Apparently eloping before their scheduled wedding just so they could fuck felt ridiculous even to them.
Those books and their place on our public bookshelves were part of their efforts to spare us what they went through. I don’t know whether we were supposed to find the books on the private bookshelves, the erotica and the sex guides. As I said, Minnesotan. But they served the same purpose.