Hey Democrats: It’s Not the Volume, It’s the Frequency

The reference might be a bit antiquated in our online age, but frequency means the radio station you’re dialed in to. Volume, of course, is how loudly the radio is turned up.

I’m sure there are some exceptions, but the overwhelming majority of explanations I’ve seen from Democrats following their crushing loss in what they constantly billed as The Most Consequential Election Of Our Lifetime(™ ) ignores the frequency of their messaging and focuses on volume, instead.

It doesn’t seem like anything was wrong with the volume of the Democrats’ campaign. Harris massively outspent Trump on advertising. Democrats have a vaunted ground game (door-to-door operations, as opposed to the air game, which is more about media, though again Democrats outspent Republicans on advertising). Harris was the first black or mixed-race woman to be the candidate of either wing of the duopoly, and this alone brought a lot of attention to her campaign, as did the palace coup and defenestration that preceded it.

And yet all the handwringing I’ve seen has been about Democratic volume, not frequency. Listing everything I’ve come across would turn this post into an encyclopedia entry, but here are just a few.

Let’s start with Jon Stewart:

“I don’t ever in my life want to hear about our vaunted ground game will put us over the top. It’s a 50/50 tossup race, we’re sure of it, but the vaunted ground game—turns out that people knocking on other people’s doors doesn’t get them to do what you want them to do as, I believe, vacuum and Bible salesmen have probably known for many, many centuries…fuck us, fuck me, I was wrong.”

There are some encouraging signs in Stewart’s take—“fuck us, fuck me” instead of “fuck them, fuck you” is the right way to begin a journey of accurate understanding, even though the destination is still a long way off. And toward the end of the video there’s some other thinking that leans toward frequency rather than volume.

But the notion that a ground game doesn’t matter because it’s hard to sell vacuums and bibles door-to-door is wrong. Vacuums and bibles are products. The product matters. If people are thirsty and you’re selling water, you’ll sell a lot of it. If they’re thirsty and you’re selling vacuums, the problem isn’t the salespeople, the problem is the product.

(Also sales is about yeses; the no’s don’t matter. You can get nine no’s for every one yes and still make a good living in sales. For a political ground game, a ratio like that is a catastrophe.)

Here’s CNN’s Van Jones:

“We got beat because Republicans built a different media system that has to do with online, has to do with podcasts, has to do with streaming platforms…we were laughing at them, and knocking on doors in Philadelphia and Detroit was like, ‘There’s no Trump people. They’re not dropping literature. They’re not knocking on doors…’ While we were knocking on doors, they were making these phones into 24-hour-a-day political weapons for themselves.”

Whatever you might make of the merits of Jones’s argument, its focus is entirely on volume. He seems unacquainted with even the notion of frequency. It’s all, “We weren’t saying it loudly enough!” And zero, “Was there anything off about what we were saying or about how we were saying it?”

(Also note how easily, naturally, and frequently this journalist uses “we” to refer to the Democratic party. There is zero independence of thought or action here—you might as well be listening to Harris herself or some other Democratic party bigwig. And yes, obviously this phenomenon exists for Fox News and Republicans, as well. The good news is, viewership of this kind of state media is declining.)

Here’s MSNBC’s Anand Giridharadas:

“The media ecosystem they’ve—it’s not a good one, it’s a negative one, it’s a radicalization funnel. But what they have done in their online media ecosystem is build a radicalization engine literally the way militant groups do around the world that takes people from relatively low-level annoyances with the world—‘Why are eggs so expensive, why is my kid learning this new thing in American history in school that I didn’t learn’—and then moves them through YouTube videos, to podcasts—moves them from that annoyance, all the way slowly, slowly, slowly to a full-blown fascist politics. It’s an elaborate, multibillion-dollar infrastructure, and there’s nothing like it on the pro-democracy side…When a man is just lost and lonely and not yet radicalized, we don’t have the equivalent of Joe Rogan and Jordan Peterson to move that man in a feminist direction. By the way, we should educate men that it’s actually really great to live with a strong woman who makes money; it’s actually easier, life is easier.”

There are so many exemplary things wrong with Giridharadas’s approach to reality it’s hard to know where to start.

First, note the focus on volume—“the other side has more and better means of getting its message heard.” But his segue into frequency—the message—is also telling.

Because imagine how well-off you’d have to be to believe rising food prices are merely an “annoyance.” Imagine how thoughtless you’d have to be to believe the way history is taught is also merely an annoyance (for starters, you’d have to be unfamiliar with the novel 1984, or one of Ingsoc’s tenets that “Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past”).

And if you think Joe Rogan’s politics are fascist, it can only mean (1) that you’ve never watched his show (among other things, Rogan endorsed Sanders in 2020, perhaps an unusual move for a fascist; he also invited Harris on during the election, but she declined); or (2) that the voices in your own head are so loud you can’t hear what other people are saying (I don’t follow Peterson, so I couldn’t say, but I’m guessing Giridharadas knows as little about the one as he does the other). Ditto for the notion that Rogan primarily appeals to men who are “lost and lonely,” rather than, say, people who are looking for opinions a bit more heterodox than what’s offered on MSNBC.

But maybe the most telling part is Giridharadas’s notion that men need to be “educated” by the Anand Giridharadas’s of the world, that they need Giridharadas and his enlightened cohort to teach them that strong women are good and that having more income is an advantage (who knew?!). This is the Democrats’ frequency—and Giridharadas and his nodding host Mika Brzezinski think the problem is with their volume! Which in a sense it is, because if smug, condescending, idiotic cultural messaging is what Democrats want to be known for, they’d be better off turning the volume all the way down, not up.

One reason it’s more attractive to focus on volume rather than on frequency is because “We didn’t do it loud enough” involves little personal responsibility. “We’re saying the wrong things, we might even believe the wrong things, tens of millions of people including the diverse people we told ourselves were our identitarian base seem to viscerally loathe us” is a much more uncomfortable concept to grapple with. But if Democrats stick to the more comfortable path of thinking their only problem is volume, that there’s nothing off about their frequency, and that ultimately the fault lies in the stars and not in themselves, they’re doomed as a meaningful political force. They can turn up the volume as loud as they want. It won’t matter. People will just change the station.

Some Post-Election Thoughts

Obviously there’s a lot to discuss about the 2024 election results. I’ll offer just the following.

None of this is about the merits of either candidate; it’s about the broad dynamics that shaped the outcome. You don’t have to like those dynamics any more than you like any other aspect of reality. But as the saying goes, denial has no survival value, so it’s best to try to be accurate and unsentimental in our understanding of events.

I think it was a terrible mistake for Harris to fuse her campaign with the Cheneys, other neocons, and various state security apparatchiks. But I also think the prevailing Democratic take on this fusion—some version of “Harris’s campaign is a big tent, the fusion demonstrates even Republican loathing of Trump, etc”—is missing a far more important dynamic that has to do with the dramatically diminished influence of establishment institutions.

Whatever you might think about Trump, he is fundamentally a people-powered candidate. He won two bruising Republican primaries and survived everything the former GOP establishment and the Democratic establishment could throw at him—Russiagate, two impeachments, numerous lawsuits, attempts at ballot removal, a never-ending media blitz, and more. He swings Republican primaries with endorsements, even with tweets. He fills stadiums with enthusiastic audiences. What Trump did in 2016 was functionally a hostile takeover of the GOP, and he has dominated the GOP ever since. We can quibble over these observations, but I think they are broadly accurate.

By contrast, I don’t think Harris can be fairly described as a people-powered candidate. She had to drop out of the 2020 primaries before the first contest—a contest the Democratic establishment engineered to produce a Biden victory (the closest comparison to Trump on the Democratic side was Sanders, who the Democratic establishment twice managed to thwart). That same Democratic establishment and its media allies gaslighted the country for four years about how Biden was “sharp as a tack” and how “age is a superpower” and all that—right up until Biden failed to uphold his end of the bargain and undeniably revealed his condition in the July 2024 presidential debate. At that point, the Democratic establishment swapped him out for Harris.

Again, we can quibble about the foregoing, but my main point is that relatively speaking, Trump’s position derives from bottom-up voter enthusiasm, while relatively speaking, Harris’s position derived from top-down party dictates.

To counter Trump’s relatively people-powered position, Harris relentlessly sought (and received) establishment backing (various Harris supporters also pleaded for a George Bush Jr. endorsement, but Bush endorsed no one). It was less that she needed Republican support; the real need was to bolster her base, which was the establishment (ironically her merger with elements of the Republican establishment seems to have translated into no additional support from Republican voters).

So if there’s a lesson to be learned from this election, it isn’t—or isn’t just—that Democrats don’t benefit from merging with Republicans. It’s more that seeking additional support from an increasingly infirm establishment—political, bureaucratic, media, celebrity, whatever—is a losing proposition.

The foregoing tracks with something I’ve long observed about the humans: they have more trouble changing the frequency than they do the volume. That is, when a tactic isn’t working, humans tend to do it harder rather than changing to a different tactic. To use just one example from the election context, when the media’s eight-year-and-running efforts to brand Trump a fascist proved a failure, did they try a different tactic? Or did they just screech “Fascist!” even louder?

(In fairness, the Harris campaign did briefly experiment with what I guess was a different messaging tactic—“Republicans are weird.” That was such a dud, and so inherently contradictory of the previous messaging, that they immediately reverted to the familiar and comfortable “Fascist!” theme. Please note that this isn’t an argument about whether or not Trump is a fascist. It’s an argument that for eight years, the messaging has proven fruitless, and yet Democrats stayed with it, but louder.)

Worse, when the music you’re playing is unappealing to your audience, playing it louder not only won’t solve the problem—it will irritate the people you’re trying to please. That Harris outspent Trump three-to-one would be an example of playing the music louder when the right move was to change the station.

Combine: (1) the human tendency to blame the volume rather than the frequency, with (2) the human tendency to avoid responsibility, and with (3) the human tendency to focus on power within an institution rather than the power of the institution (The Iron Law of Institutions), and even after 2016 and 2024, it’s difficult to see how the claws of the Clintons, the Obamas, the Pelosis, the Clooneys, the Schumers, and whoever else selected Biden and then swapped him out for Harris can be removed from the levers of influence.

One more lesson here: it seems bruising primaries produce strong general election candidates—Obama in 2008; Trump in 2016 and 2024. Managed affairs seem to produce weak candidates: Clinton in 2016; Harris in 2024 (I think Biden won in 2020 largely because of Covid, but unfortunately the panjandrums who installed him think he prevailed because of their wisdom, not despite).

Obviously there’s a ton more to be said on the topic of establishment decline, enough to fill a book: 

Luckily someone’s already done that, and I recommend Martin Gurri’s The Revolt of the Public for more insight into the causes and consequences of western establishment decrepitude, which in my opinion was foundational to the Democrats’ election-day catastrophe: a catastrophe in how Harris was chosen; in how and with whom she campaigned, and in the kind of messaging her media allies thought voters would find motivating, but that seems to have produced the opposite motivation of the one intended.

How I'm Voting

A friend on Facebook asked me who I’d be voting for in November. For whatever they’re worth, my thoughts:

I think reasoning tends to be more interesting and useful than conclusions, and going into my reasoning would take a while. But to try to summarize: I don’t think America has two political parties; I think we have two wings of a single party that faces no meaningful competition. And as in any system devoid of meaningful competition, the monopoly power increasingly serves only itself at the expense of its customers. Here it does so by screeching every four years that this is the Most Consequential Election Ever(™) (can you imagine the extra super duper existential stakes in 2028?).

I can’t play that “lesser of two evils” game any more. One, because if I do, I’ll vomit up my soul. And two, because I think the duopoly has become so fundamentally parasitical and detached from reality that we’re closer to nuclear war today than we have been since the Cuban Missile Crisis (don’t take my word for it; take Joe Biden’s, something he said in a rare lucid moment two years ago. Or if you prefer, see what the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists has to say). At best, current duopoly trends will lead to an increasingly polarized economic landscape reminiscent of the movie Elysium, but things could easily become far worse than that, “far worse” meaning another world war and/or the extinguishing of most of humanity in a nuclear war.

So I’ll vote for the Green Party. Many people will tell me that in doing so I’m wasting my vote. To me, this is more of the propaganda we’re fed; I could make the same argument--and it would be stronger and also consistent with the Kantian Categorical Imperative--in the other direction.

Ordinarily, I try to focus on frameworks rather than conclusions. I’m not trying to persuade anyone to vote one way or the other. Mostly that kind of thing is a waste and it’s almost always self indulgent. But I appreciate your asking and so I’m responding. Cheers.

Dark Matter!

Update, June 25, 2024

Just finished watching the Dark Matter episode 9 finale and holy shit, did they stick the landing! No spoilers and so much still to think and talk about, but three initial impressions:

1. Part of what makes the show so special is the authenticity and consistency of the human reactions and emotions. In one sense, the premise is crazy--a guy from another version of our reality somewhere in the multiverse travels to this reality to steal his doppleganger’s life--but Blake, Jacque, and the other writers used that premise to compellingly explore real human emotions and quandaries, even questions about what makes us human and makes us the individuals we are.

2. They did such a great job of relentlessly, inexorably building on the central premise--if you feel like your mind is blown by the first few episodes, wait, by the end you’ll feel like your head has exploded! But in such a good way, because none of the mind-blowing stuff felt cheap or gratuitous. On the contrary, it was always both grounded in and a logical extension of the story’s central premise, and always in service of the human elements the show explores.

3. Dark Matter is rightly classified as science fiction or speculative fiction, but again they ingeniously use the sci-fi elements to include so many other genres: action thriller, mystery, family drama. There were even some moments I found laugh-out loud funny (in fairness I can be a little weird that way). And there were far more moments that were so poignant they made me cry (but obviously only in a dignified and manly way).

Overall, I think the thing I loved best about the show is how it uses a science fiction premise not just to entertain (and JFC yes, it does entertain), but also to explore critical elements of our humanity, here questions involving what makes us the individuals we are, what bonds us to the people we love (and them to us), how can we reconcile ourselves to the costs and consequences of choices we’ve made--and would it really be possible to undo those choices, even if in theory we could?

So much more to say but I’ll stop now and just say I loved it, and expect many other people are going to feel the same.

*****

Dark Matter launches today on Apple TV+ with Alice Braga, Jennifer Connelly, and Joel Edgerton. I’ve seen only the first four episodes, but so far the show isn’t just good. It’s extraordinarily good.

How extraordinarily good? The kind of extraordinarily good where you want to watch it again and again, knocked out by what you’ve already seen while also noticing layers you didn’t catch the first time (yes, I’ve watched the first two episodes three times already because that’s all I have access to!). The kind of extraordinarily good that I expect is going to win awards—for the writing, the acting (all these amazing actors playing subtly different versions of themselves!), the directing, the cinematography, the music, the main titles…everything.

 

If you’re into science fiction, you’ll love the genre elements—the notion of a multiverse, and how consciousness creates reality, and the science behind these notions. But for me, the science and speculative aspects, while fascinating, take a back seat to the human drama, which involves questions about the impact of the decisions we make, and how we know whether we’re living the right life, and what love means and what’s really important on this short ride of life.

 

In the way it’s built on science, the show reminds me a bit of 3 Body Problem. But while 3DP was intriguing and certainly beautifully produced, I can’t say I was ever particularly moved by it (a little by the plight of the character Will Downing, who’s battling metastatic cancer while grappling with a love he’s always been afraid to declare). I was glad when the first 3DP season was done and had no urge to rewatch any of it. By contrast, I can’t stop thinking about Dark Matter, or talking about it with my wife Laura (who’s as obsessed with the show as I am). And it’s killing us to have seen episodes 1-4 and to now have to wait three more weeks for episode five.

 

Another thing Dark Matter slightly reminds me of (in a more favorable way): the book and movie Altered States. The science there was also interesting, but far more consequential was the human drama, the costs of pursuing knowledge, the power of love in the face of the otherwise nothingness of existence.

 

I should note that Blake Crouch, who created the show based on his novel of the same name, is a friend. Ditto Jacque Ben-Zekry, also a writer and producer on the show. Blake and I have known each other since we were both fledgling novelists; we read and comment on each other’s pre-publication stuff (I read and loved an early version of Dark Matter the book). And Jacque was an editor at Amazon Publishing when I started working with them in 2011 (after she left, she became one of my freelance editors). They’re both wonderful people and Laura and I love them both. So you should discount my enthusiasm for Dark Matter any way you feel is sensible.

 

I’ll only say this: if I weren’t as mad about the show as I am, as a friend I would just post something like “Dark Matter drops today on Apple TV+, you should check it out!” I wouldn’t rave about it. I seem constitutionally unable to pretend to be wild about something I actually think is just okay—which is why I’ve blurbed so few books over the course of a 20+-year career in writing. You can’t just say, “This is a good story; if you like thrillers, I think you might enjoy it.” You have to say, “OMG, this book changed my life and I am starting a new religion about it!” And while such over-the-top blurbs are common, that kind of true sentiment isn’t usually the case.

 

But sometimes it is. And while I’m not about to start any new religions about Dark Matter, I would happily be a charter member of a fan club. Everything I’ve said in this post is from the heart and I’m pretty sure millions of people are going to feel the same way. Give the show a try on Apple TV+ and let me know if you’re one of them.

 

And if you can’t wait for all nine episodes…the book is awesome, too.

The Real Reason Voters Have Soured on Biden

According to numerous recent polls, Americans believe the economy is in bad shape and don’t trust President Biden to manage it.

In response, the president’s supporters have been arguing strenuously that the gloom is mistaken because in fact the economy is doing well—“extremely well,” according to New York Times columnist Paul Krugman; “astoundingly” well and “better than any other peer country in the world…Joe Biden’s America is on the right path to pull off one of the greatest macroeconomic policy tricks of all time,” according to MSNBC personality Chris Hayes.

Of course, multi-millionaires telling hurting Americans that they’re feeling only phantom pain is inherently cringe-worthy, but I’m not going to argue about whether the economy is in fact doing well or doing poorly. In fact, I’m going to assume for the sake of argument that Biden’s supporters are correct and that the economy is in great shape. What really interests me here is the fundamental error continually made by these highly educated, heavily credentialed people whose sole ostensible job is to accurately and usefully explain to the rest of us what’s really going on.

The error in question? Assuming self-reported reasons for political preferences are typically reliable.

In my experience, humans tend to form conclusions based on emotional elements we understand only vaguely, if at all. But for whatever reason, we’re uncomfortable acknowledging that there’s no sound logical or empirical foundation undergirding those conclusions, and so we reverse engineer logical or empirical foundations that seem to provide a degree of solid support.

 

Weirdly, this universal human tendency is so underappreciated that when polls show something like “Seventy percent of voters say they disapprove of a politician because of X,” pundits take the purported explanation at face value. The pundits then energetically try to convince people that they’re wrong—in this case by lecturing them that in fact the economy is doing surreally and astoundingly well and that they should therefore be more appreciative of President Biden.

 

As a trivial but funny example of the phenomenon, a few years ago someone, I think in the Kindle Store, unfavorably reviewed my book The Killer Collective. The gist of the review was, “I didn’t like this book because nothing ever goes wrong for the protagonists and they never face any danger.” Immediately I thought, “That’s not true! What about that helicopter attack, where Rain kept missing with the .50 cal and they all almost died as a result? And I actually killed off a major series character, how much more danger could you ask for?”

 

And then I laughed at myself, thinking, “What would happen if you could convince this guy that he’s mistaken, that things do go wrong and the characters do face danger? Would he suddenly say, ‘Gee, Barry, you’re right, I actually did like the book?’”

 

Of course not. The guy genuinely didn’t like the book, which is of course fine (though highly unusual!). There could be dozens of reasons for his dislike, or none at all—he just didn’t like it. But, being human, “I just didn’t like it” feels flimsy, so this guy did what humans do: he reverse engineered a sturdier-seeming foundation. And because the foundation was reverse engineered, undermining it would do nothing to change the conclusion it was placed under, a conclusion that was independent of the foundation and in fact preceded it.

 

This is just how we’re wired as a species. And yet, when humans report, “I don’t like Biden because the economy is weak,” even (or maybe especially) the most academically credentialed and elite thinkers in the country instinctively respond by trying to undermine the stated reason for the dislike, rather than trying to divine what is really going on.

 

Krugman in particular does a lot of this in a recent discussion with CNN personality Christiane Amanpour, where paradoxically he comes across as both befuddled and incurious: “We don’t really understand why this [economic gloom in the face of a strong economy] is happening,” he says. “And I could come up with multiple stories, but it’s important to point out that there’s a real and profound and peculiar disconnect going on.” Whoever this “we” is—Nobel Prize-winning economists? New York Times pundits? Cognoscenti generally?—wouldn’t their proposed “stories” (presumably, explanations) for what’s causing the profound and peculiar disconnect Krugman describes be more useful than simply noting the phenomenon itself? And though Krugman, Hayes, and others do periodically point to partisanship, propaganda, and media failures as the underlying causes of voters’ incorrect belief that the economy is doing poorly, even if true such Duckspeak explanations still rely on the erroneous notion that self-reported reasons are inherently reliable.

But if I’m right in suggesting that humans aren’t typically good at self-identifying the real causes of their dislikes, then the entire notion of whether the economy is weak or strong is a distraction. I think something else is going on, not just in America, but in the whole western world. I think ordinary people have become increasingly aware that, as George Carlin put it in 2005’s Life is Worth Losing, our rulers “don’t care about you. At all. At all. At all.”

Martin Gurri describes this phenomenon in his excellent book The Revolt of the Public and the Crisis of Authority in the New Millennium. Popular disgust with the ever-worsening “Let them eat cake” ethos of the ruling class has expressed itself in a variety of ways: Trump in America. Bolsonaro in Brazil. Brexit in the UK. Populist upsets all over Europe. The gilets jaunes movement in France. The Canadian trucker convoy. Day traders rising up against Wall Street titans just for the joy of making them bleed. And perhaps most tellingly in QAnon, which reifies the metaphorical parasitism of the ruling class into a belief in literal establishment cannibalism and child abuse.

So Biden’s problem isn’t so much that voters don’t trust him on the economy, but rather that they just don’t trust him. And why don’t they trust him? Because whatever else you think of him, Biden is as much of an establishment insider as anyone could possibly be. He’s been a politician for virtually the entirety of his adult life, having been elected to a Delaware county council in 1970 at age 27 and to the US Senate two years later, where he remained for 36 years until becoming vice president for another eight. In fact, he’s so much an insider that despite his poor showing in the first three 2020 primaries, the Democratic establishment, fearing Bernie Sanders, united to install him as the general election candidate in 2020. The only politician who might rival Biden in establishment credentials would be Hillary Clinton, who the Democratic establishment also selected after sidelining Sanders in 2016 and who went on to lose to Donald Trump.

To put it another way: I doubt most voters distrust Biden specifically. My sense instead is that voters distrust him for what he represents. And while Democratic Trump horror and Covid proved just enough for the 78-year-old former senator and vice president to eke out a victory in 2020, in a world where the public is increasingly not just distrustful of but nauseated by its rulers, an establishment background presents an ineradicable taint.

But this would be a lot to articulate in a survey, and so most humans will attribute their dislike and distrust to something that feels discrete and defensible, such as “He’s not managing the economy well.” And then pundits like Krugman, his conservative colleague Ross Douthat, and Hayes will engage that stated reason, believing it to be the actual cause for discontent. In fairness, you can’t really blame the Krugmans and Douthats and Hayes’s of the world; after all, they’re all part of the establishment voters increasingly detest. For them to acknowledge how loathed their class is would involve a lot of difficult self-reflection, and in this sense they’re like West World’s Bernard, who couldn’t see the door positioned right in front of him because he’d been programed to be blind to it.

Two things seem axiomatic to me: the public wants meaningful change, and neither wing of America’s political duopoly is willing to offer it. Maximum disgust will therefore be directed at an establishment incumbent like Biden, against whom almost any challenger will have some claim to relative outsider status.

The thing is, Trump isn’t just any challenger. Everyone understands that Trump is hated by the establishment, and after four years of Russiagate, two impeachments, and four (and counting) indictments, Trump is well positioned to blame any of his failures as president on the establishment—what Trump calls “the swamp.” By comparison, a candidate like Biden is the swamp.

The only way either wing of the duopoly might meaningfully mitigate the downside of running an insider would be to allow in an outsider. The Democratic wing has prevented such a thing twice in a row, while the Republican wing tried but failed, accommodating themselves to Trump as their leader after having done all they could to stop him. But regardless of the risks or the outcomes, I don’t expect either wing to become more open to outsiders. As the Iron Law of Institutions posits, the people who control institutions care more about their power within the institution than they do about the power of the institution.

If I’m right about the public’s general outlook, voter pessimism about Biden’s accomplishments isn’t really what’s pulling him down. And in arguing that in fact those accomplishments are surreal or historical or otherwise stunning—even if true—is as likely to boost his numbers as my flapping my arms is likely to get me to fly.

If You Care About Privacy...

If you care about privacy, please stop referring to "privacy advocates." This reflexive phrase implies that certain individuals are trying to increase privacy or otherwise change the status quo--an uphill battle regardless of the issue at hand because most people instinctively distrust and even fear change.

In fact, privacy is under increasing assault by government and corporate deployment of new technologies. So the far more accurate--and tactically useful--phrase would be "privacy defenders."

Sadly, when it comes to nomenclature, rulers tend to be much more clever than the ruled. Renaming the War Department the Defense Department was genius in this regard. Now even otherwise excellent journalists reflexively refer to "defense" spending, a phrase far less likely to trouble the citizenry than "war" spending or even "military" spending.

The government understands that "defense" makes good marketing. I wish whoever came up with "privacy advocates" were half as effective.

More such own-goals here.

Talking MA, SD, Violence, and of Course Writing With Coach Tony Blauer

Had a blast talking with Tony Blauer, an innovator in self defense I've learned a ton from over the last 20 years or so.

As we discuss in the podcast, I first met Tony when he wrote to me around the time my first book was published. He praised me for my fictional depiction of various aspects of violence, and told me that in his opinion I was really getting it right. My response was, "I hope so, I read your newsletter and have learned a lot from you!" Following which a beautiful friendship was born, which has included several trips to Tony's seminars and a couple of memorable sushi meals, too.

Anyway, it was a treat to catch up this morning about various areas of common interests on Tony's Know Fear podcast. Enjoy.