Why Britain Needs Americanism
https://youtu.be/LCRTNRyPclgSteven Kates On The Keynesian Attack on Say’s Law
Economist Steven Kates speaks with Tom Woods on why the Keynesian attack on Say's Law is the truly fundamental error in the Keynesian system.A wonderful listen for fans of pro-capitalist economics.For a more comprehensive coverage of all of these issues and why they matter, read Kate's Free Market Economics: an Introduction for the General Reader.When We Two Parted By Lord Byron
When we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted To sever for years, Pale grew thy cheek and cold, Colder thy kiss; Truly that hour foretold Sorrow to this.The dew of the morning Sunk chill on my brow-- It felt like the warning Of what I feel now. Thy vows are all broken, And light is thy fame; I hear thy name spoken, And share in its shame.They name thee before me, A knell to mine ear; A shudder comes o’er me-- Why wert thou so dear? They know not I knew thee, Who knew thee too well-- Long, long shall I rue thee, Too deeply to tell.In secret we met-- In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee?-- With silence and tears.-- George Gordon Byron, 1788 - 1824Free Livestream: Business, Free-Speech, Immigration and the Welfare State in Europe
Ayn Rand Student Conference Europe (AynRandCon) is officially underway in Prague, the Czech Republic! This is ARI's first ever conference in Europe and the theme is “Individualism in an Age of Tribalism.”Some particular new talks and panels of note:- An Individualist Doing Business in Collectivist Europe - Mr. Christensen, co-founder of Denmark’s Saxo Bank and founder of the private equity firm Seier Capital, has had a long, successful career as an innovator in banking and finance. In this talk, he discusses some of the challenges he’s faced as a staunch individualist (indeed, an Objectivist!) doing business in collectivist Europe.
- Panel + Q&A: Immigration and IslamThe issue of Muslim immigration is one of the major sources of political and cultural tension in Europe today. This panel will explore the controversies over immigration and Islam and the future of Europe.
- Panel + Q&A: Capitalism, Individualism and the Welfare State - This panel will discuss the ways in which tribalism leads to the “mixed economy” welfare state—and how that political-economic system reinforces the anti-individual mindset. The result is a vicious circle of increasingly collectivist policies and an increasingly collectivist electorate that both supports and is victimized by the system.
Objectivist Economist Richard Salsman Tackles The Egalitarian Envy Brigade
The leading Objectivist economist, "Saysean" Richard Salsman has an excellent article in Capitalism Magazine on why "Justice Demands That We Should Celebrate Diversity in Wealth Too".Writes Dr. Salsman:In most realms of life today, diversity and variety are justifiably celebrated and respected. Differences in athletic and artistic talent, for example, entail not only robust, entertaining competitions, but fanatics (“fans”) who respect, applaud, award, and handsomely compensate the winners (“stars” and “champions”) while also depriving (at least relatively) the losers.Yet the realm of economics — of markets and commerce, business and finance, income and wealth — elicits a near-opposite response, even though it’s not, like sporting matches, a zero-sum game. In the economic realm, we observe differential talents and outcomes unequally compensated (as we should expect), but for many people, diversity and variety in this realm are disdained and envied, with predictable results: a perpetual redistribution of income and wealth by punitive taxation, stiff regulation, and periodic trust-busting. Here winners are more suspected than respected, while losers receive sympathies and subsidies.What accounts for this rather odd anomaly?Read the rest of Justice Demands That We Should Celebrate Diversity in Wealth Too.
Love is the Only Reason We’re Alive
"This is for everyone in love and for everyone looking for love. None of us should have to wait until we're 85."For more about IN-Q visit in-q.comThe Nerve of Foley
By Frank SpearmanThere had been rumors all winter that the engineers were going to strike. Certainly we of the operating department had warning enough. Yet in the railroad life there is always friction in some quarter; the railroad man sleeps like the soldier, with an ear alert - but just the same he sleeps, for with waking comes duty.Our engineers were good fellows. If they had faults, they were American faults - rashness, a liberality bordering on extravagance, and a headstrong, violent way of reaching conclusions-traits born of ability and self-confidence and developed by prosperity.One of the best men we had on a locomotive was Andrew Cameron; at the same time he was one of the hardest to manage, because he was young and headstrong. Andy, a big, powerful fellow, ran opposite Felix Kennedy on the Flyer. The fast runs require young men. If you will notice, you will rarely see an old engineer on a fast passenger run; even a young man can stand only a few years of that kind of work. High speed on a locomotive is a question of nerve and endurance - to put it bluntly, a question of flesh and blood."You don't think much of this strike, do you, Mr. Reed?" said Andy to me one night." Don't think there's going to be any, Andy."He laughed knowingly."What actual grievance have the boys?" I asked."The trouble's on the East End," he replied, evasively."Is that any reason for calling a thousand men out on this end?"" If one goes out, they all go.""Would you go out?""Would I? You bet!""A man with a home and a wife and a baby boy like yours ought to have more sense."Getting up to leave, he laughed again confidently. " That's all right. We'll bring you fellows to terms."" Maybe," I retorted, as he closed the door. But I hadn't the slightest idea they would begin the attempt that night. I was at home and sound asleep when the caller tapped on my window. I threw up the sash; it was pouring rain and dark as a pocket." What is it, Barney? A wreck?" I exclaimed."Worse than that. Everything's tied up.""What do you mean?""The engineers have struck.""Struck? What time is it?""Half-past three. They went out at three o'clock." Throwing on my clothes, I floundered behind Barney's lantern to the depot. The superintendent was already in his office talking to the master-mechanic.Bulletins came in every few minutes from various points announcing trains tied up. Before long we began to hear from the East End. Chicago reported all engineers out; Omaha wired, no trains moving. When the sun rose that morning, our entire system, extending, through seven States and Territories, was absolutely paralyzed.It was an astounding situation, but one that must be met. It meant either an ignominious surrender to the engineers or a fight to the death. For our part, we had only to wait for orders. It was just six o'clock when the chief train-dispatcher who was tapping at a key, said:" Here's something from headquarters."We crowded close around him. His pen flew across the clip; the message was addressed to all division superintendents. It was short; but at the end of it he wrote a name we rarely saw in our office. It was that of the railroad magnate we knew as "the old man," the president of the system, and his words were few:" Move the trains."" Move the trains !" repeated the superintendent. " Yes; but trains can't be moved by pinch-bars nor by main force."We spent the day arguing with the strikers. They were friendly, but firm. Persuasion, entreaties, threats, we exhausted, and ended just where we began, except that we had lost our tempers. The sun set without the turn of a wheel. The victory of the first day was certainly with the strikers.Next day it looked pretty blue around the depot. Not a car was moved; the engineers and firemen were a unit. But the wires sung hard all that day and all that night. Just before midnight Chicago wired that No. 1- our big passenger-train, the Denver Flyer - had started out on time, with the superintendent of motive power as engineer and a wiper for fireman. The message came from the second vice-president. He promised to deliver the train to our division on time the next evening, and he asked, " Can you get it through to Denver?"We looked at each other. At last all eyes gravitated towards Neighbor, our master-mechanic.The train-dispatcher was waiting. "What shall I say?" he asked.The division chief of the motive power was a tremendously big Irishman, with a voice like a fog-horn. Without an instant's hesitation the answer came clear." Say 'Yes' !"Every one of us started. It was throwing the gage of battle. Our word had gone out; the division was pledged; the fight was on.Next evening the strikers, through some mysterious channel, got word that the Flyer was expected. About nine o'clock a crowd of them began to gather round the depot.It was after one o'clock when No. 1 pulled in and the foreman of the Omaha roundhouse swung down from the locomotive cab. The strikers clustered around the engine like a swarm of angry bees; but that night, though there was plenty of jeering, there was no actual violence. When they saw Neighbor climb into the cab to take the run west there was a sullen silence.Next day a committee of strikers, with Andy Cameron, very cavalier, at their head, called on me." Mr. Reed," said he, officiously, " we've come to notify you not to run any more trains through here till this strike's settled. The boys won't stand it; that's all." With that be turned on his heel to leave with his following." Hold on, Cameron," I replied, raising my hand as I spoke; " that's not quite all. I suppose you men represent your grievance committee.""Yes, sir.""I happen to represent, in the superintendent's absence, the management of this road. I simply want to say to you, and to your committee, that I take my orders from the president and the general manager not from you nor anybody you represent. That's all."Every hour the bitterness increased. We got a few trains through, but we were terribly crippled. As for freight, we made no pretense of moving it. Trainloads of fruit and meat rotted in the yards. The strikers grew more turbulent daily. They beat our new men and crippled our locomotives. Then our troubles with the new men were almost as bad. They burned out our crown sheets; they got mixed up on orders all the time. They ran into open switches and into each other continually, and had us very nearly crazy.I kept tab on one of the new engineers for a week. He began by backing into a diner so hard that he smashed every dish in the car, and ended by running into a siding a few days later and setting two tanks of oil on fire, that burned up a freight depot. I figured he cost us forty thousand dollars the week he ran. Then he went back to selling windmills.After this experience I was sitting in my office one evening, when a youngish fellow in a slouch-hat opened the door and stuck his head in."What do you want?" I growled." Are you Mr. Reed?""What do you want?""I want to speak to Mr. Reed.""Well, what is it?""Are you Mr. Reed?"" Confound you, yes! What do you want?""Me? I don't want anything. I'm just asking, that's all."His impudence staggered me so that I took my feet off the desk."Heard you were looking for men," he added."No," I snapped. "I don't want any men."" Wouldn't be any show to get on an engine, would there?"A week earlier I should have risen and fallen on his neck. But there had been others." There's a show to get your head broke," I suggested." I don't mind that, if I get my time.""What do you know about running an engine ?"" Run one three years."" On a threshing-machine?"" On the Philadelphia and Reading.""Who sent you in here?"" Just dropped in.""Sit down."I eyed him sharply as he dropped into a chair." When did you quit the Philadelphia and Reading?""About six months ago.""Fired?""Strike."I began to get interested. After a few more questions I took him into the superintendent's office. But at the door I thought it well to drop a hint." Look here, my friend, if you're a spy you'd better keep out of this. This man would wring your neck as quick as he'd suck an orange. See?""Let's tackle him, anyhow," replied the fellow, eyeing me coolly.I introduced him to Mr. Lancaster, and left them together. Pretty soon the superintendent came into my office."What do you make of him, Reed?" said he." What do you make of him?"Lancaster studied a minute." Take him over to the round-house and see what he knows."I walked over with the new find, chatting warily. When we reached a live engine I told him to look it over. He threw off his coat, picked up a piece of waste, and swung into the cab."Run her out to the switch," said I, stepping up myself.He pinched the throttle, and we steamed slowly out of the house. A minute showed he was at home on an engine."Can you handle it?" I asked, as he shut off after backing down to the round-house." You use soft coal," he replied, trying the injector. " I'm used to hard. This injector is new to me. Guess I can work it, though.""What did you say your name was?""I didn't say.""What is it?" I asked, curtly."Foley.""Well, Foley, if you have as much sense as you have gall you ought to get along. If you act straight, you'll never want a job again as long as you live. If you don't, you won't want to live very long."" Got any tobacco ?"" Here, Baxter," said I, turning to the round-house foreman, "this is Foley. Give him a chew, and mark him up to go out on 77 tonight. If he monkeys with anything around the house kill him."Baxter looked at Foley, and Foley looked at Baxter; and Baxter not getting the tobacco out quick enough, Foley reminded him he was waiting.We didn't pretend to run freights, but I concluded to try the fellow on one, feeling sure that if he was crooked he would ditch it and skip.So Foley ran a long string of empties and a car or two of rotten oranges down to Harvard Junction that night, with one of the dispatchers for pilot. Under my orders they had a train made up at the junction for him to bring back to McCloud. They had picked up all the strays in the yards, including half a dozen cars of meat that the local board of health had condemned after it had laid out in the sun for two weeks, and a car of butter we had been shifting around ever since the beginning of the strike.When the strikers saw the stuff coming in next morning behind Foley they concluded I had gone crazy." What do you think of the track, Foley?" said I."Fair," he replied, sitting down on my desk. " Stiff hill down there by Zanesville.""Any trouble to climb it?" I asked, for I had purposely given him a heavy train."Not with that car of butter. If you hold that butter another week it will climb a hill without any engine.""Can you handle a passenger-train ?""I guess so.""I'm going to send you west on No. 1 tonight.""Then you'll have to give me a fireman. That guy you sent out last night is a lightning-rod-peddler. The dispatcher threw most of the coal.""I'll go with you myself, Foley. I can give you steam. Can you stand it to double back to-night?"" I can stand it if you can."When I walked into the round-house in the evening, with a pair of overalls on, Foley was in the cab getting ready for the run.Neighbor brought the Flyer in from the East. As soon as he had uncoupled and got out of the way we backed down with the 448. It was the best engine we had left, and, luckily for my back, an easy steamer. Just as we coupled to the mail-car a crowd of strikers swarmed out of the dusk. They were in an ugly mood, and when Andy Cameron and Bat Nicholson sprang up into the cab I saw we were in for trouble." Look here, partner," exclaimed Cameron, laying a heavy hand on Foley's shoulder; " you don't want to take this train out, do you? You wouldn't beat honest working men out of a job?"I'm not beating anybody out of a job. If you want to take out this train, take it out. If you don't, get out of this cab."Cameron was nonplused. Nicholson, a surly brute, raised his fist menacingly."See here, boss," he growled, "we won't stand no scabs on this line."" Get out of this cab."" I'll promise you you'll never get out of it alive, my buck, if you ever get into it again," cried Cameron, swinging down.***
When I walked into the round-house in the evening, with a pair of overalls on, Foley was in the cab getting ready for the run.Neighbor brought the Flyer in from the East. As soon as he had uncoupled and got out of the way we backed down with the 448. It was the best engine we had left, and, luckily for my back, an easy steamer. Just as we coupled to the mail-car a crowd of strikers swarmed out of the dusk. They were in an ugly mood, and when Andy Cameron and Bat Nicholson sprang up into the cab I saw we were in for trouble." Look here, partner," exclaimed Cameron, laying a heavy hand on Foley's shoulder; " you don't want to take this train out, do you? You wouldn't beat honest working men out of a job?"I'm not beating anybody out of a job. If you want to take out this train, take it out. If you don't, get out of this cab."Cameron was nonplused. Nicholson, a surly brute, raised his fist menacingly."See here, boss," he growled, "we won't stand no scabs on this line."" Get out of this cab."" I'll promise you you'll never get out of it alive, my buck, if you ever get into it again," cried Cameron, swinging down. Nicholson followed, muttering angrily. I hoped we were out of the scrape, but, to my consternation, Foley, picking up his oil-can, got right down behind them, and began filling his cups without the least attention to anybody.Nicholson sprang on him like a tiger. The onslaught was so sudden that they had him under their feet in a minute. I jumped down, and Ben Buckley, the conductor, came running up. Between us we gave the little fellow a life. He squirmed out like a cat, and backed instantly up against the tender."One at a time, and come on," he cried, hotly. "If it's ten to one, and on a man's back at that, we'll do it different." With a quick, peculiar movement of his arm he drew a pistol, and, pointing it squarely at Cameron, cried, " Get back!"I caught a flash of his eye through the blood that streamed down his face. I wouldn't have given a switch-key for the life of the man who crowded him at that minute. But just then Lancaster came up, and before the crowd realized it we had Foley, protesting angrily, back in the cab again."For Heaven's sake, pull out of this before there's bloodshed, Foley," I cried; and, nodding to Buckley, Foley opened the choker.It was a night run and a new track to him. I tried to fire and pilot both, but after Foley suggested once or twice that if I would tend to the coal he would tend to the curves I let him find them - and he found them all, I thought, before we got to Athens. He took big chances in his running, but there was a superb confidence in his bursts of speed which marked the fast runner and the experienced one.At Athens we had barely two hours to rest before doubling back. I was never tired in my life till I struck the pillow that night, but before I got it warm the caller routed me out again. The East-bound Flyer was on time, or nearly so, and when I got into the cab for the run back, Foley was just coupling on."Did you get a nap?" I asked, as we pulled out."No; we slipped an eccentric coming up, and I've been under the engine ever since. Say, sbe's a bird, isn't she? She's all right. I couldn't run her coming up; but I've touched up her valve motion a bit, and I'll get action on her as soon as it's daylight.""Don't mind getting action on my account, Foley; I'm shy on life insurance."He laughed."You're safe with me. I never killed man, woman, or child in my life. When I do, I quit the cab. Give her plenty of diamonds, if you please," he added, letting her out full.He gave me the ride of my life; but I hated to show scare, he was so coolly audacious himself. We had but one stop -for water- and after that all down grade. We bowled along as easy as ninepins, but the pace was a hair-raiser. After we passed Arickaree we never touched a thing but the high joints. The long, heavy train behind us flew round the bluffs once in awhile like the tail of a very capricious kite; yet somehow -and that's an engineer's magic- she always lit on the steel.Day broke ahead, and between breaths I caught the glory of a sunrise on the plains from a locomotive-cab window. When the smoke of the McCloud shops stained the horizon, remembering the ugly threats of the strikers, I left my seat to speak to Foley." I think you'd better swing off when you slow up for the yards and cut across to the round-house," I cried, getting close to his ear, for we were on terrific speed. He looked at me inquiringly. " In that way you won't run into Cameron and his crowd at the depot," I added. " I can stop her all right."He didn't take his eyes off the track. "I'll take the train to the platform," said he."Isn't that a crossing cut ahead ? he added, suddenly, as we swung round a fill west of town."Yes; and a bad one."He reached for the whistle and gave the long, warning screams. I set the bell-ringer and stooped to open the furnace door to cool the fire, when - chug!I flew up against the water-gauges like a coupling-pin. The monster engine reared right up on her head. Scrambling to my feet, I saw the new man clutching the air lever with both hands, and every wheel on the train was screeching. I jumped to his side and looked over his shoulder. On the crossing just ahead a big white horse, dragging a buggy, plunged and reared frantically. Standing on the buggy seat a baby boy clung bewildered to the lazyback; not another soul in sight. All at once the horse swerved sharply back; the buggy lurched half over; the lines seemed to be caught around one wheel. The little fellow clung on ; but the crazy horse, instead of running, began a hornpipe right between the deadly rails.I looked at Foley in despair. From the monstrous quivering leaps of the great engine I knew the drivers were in the clutch of the mighty air-brake; but the resistless momentum of the train was none the less sweeping us down at deadly speed on the baby. Between the two tremendous forces the locomotive shivered like a gigantic beast. I shrank back in horror; but the little man at the throttle, throwing the last ounce of air on the burning wheels, leaped from his box with a face transfigured."Take her!" he cried, and, never shifting his eyes from the cut, he shot through his open window and darted like a cat along the running-board to the front.Not a hundred feet separated us from the crossing. I could see the baby's curls blowing in the wind. The horse suddenly leaped from across the track to the side of it; that left the buggy quartering with the rails, but not twelve inches clear. The way the wheels were cramped a single step ahead would throw the hind wheels into the train; a step backward would shove the front wheels into it. It was appalling.Foley, clinging with one hand to a headlight bracket, dropped down on the steam-chest and swung far out. As the cow-catcher shot past, Foley's long arm dipped into the buggy like the sweep of a connecting-rod, and caught the boy by the breeches. The impetus of our speed threw the child high in the air, but Foley's grip was on the little overalls, and as the youngster bounded back he caught it close. I saw the horse give a leap. It sent the hind wheels into the corner of the baggage-car. There was a crash like the report of a hundred rifles, and the buggy flew in the air. The big horse was thrown fifty feet; but Foley, with a great light in his eyes and the baby boy in his arm, crawled laughing into the cab.Thinking he would take the engine again, I tried to take the baby. Take it? Well, I think not!" Hi! there, buster!" shouted the little engineer, wildly; " that's a corking pair of breeches on you, son. I caught the kid right by the seat of the pants," he called over to me, laughing hysterically. "Heav,ens! little man, I wouldn't 've struck you for all the gold in Alaska. I've got a chunk of a boy in Reading as much like him as a twin brother. What were you doing all alone in that buggy? Whose kid do you suppose it is? What's your name, son?"At his question I looked at the child - and I started. I had certainly seen him before; and, had I not, his father's features were too well stamped on the childish face for me to be mistaken."Foley," I cried, all amaze, " that's Cameron's boy - little Andy!"He tossed the baby the higher; be looked the happier ; he shouted the louder." The deuce it is! Well, son, I'm mighty glad of it." And I certainly was glad.In fact, mighty glad, as Foley expressed it, when we pulled up at the depot, and I saw Andy Cameron with a wicked look pushing to the front through the threatening crowd. With an growl he made for Foley." I've got business with you - you - "" I've got a little with you, son," retorted Foley, stepping leisurely down from the cab. I struck a buggy back here at the first cut, and I hear it was yours." Cameron's eyes began to bulge. " I guess the outfit's damaged some - all but the boy. Here, kid," he added, turning for me to hand him the child, "here's your dad."The instant the youngster caught sight of his parent he set up a yell. Foley, laughing, passed him into his astonished father's arms before the latter could say a word. Just then a boy, running and squeezing through the crowd, cried to Cameron that his horse had run away from the house with the baby in the buggy, and that Mrs. Cameron was having a fit.Cameron stood like one daft - and the boy catching sight of the baby that instant panted and stared in an idiotic state."Andy," said I, getting down and laying a band on his shoulder, " if these fellows want to kill this man, let them do it alone - you'd better keep out. Only this minute he has saved your boy's life."The sweat stood out on the big engineer's forehead like dew. I told the story. Cameron tried to speak; but he tried again and again before he could find his voice."Mate," he stammered, "you've been through a strike yourself - you know what it means, don't you? But if you've got a baby - -" he gripped the boy tighter to his shoulder." I have, partner; three of 'em."" Then you know what this means," said Andy, huskily, putting out his hand to Foley. He gripped the little man's fist hard, and, turning, walked away through the crowd.Somehow it put a damper on the boys. Bat Nicholson was about the only man left who looked as if he wanted to eat somebody; and Foley, slinging his blouse over his shoulder, walked up to Bat and tapped him on the shoulder."Stranger," said he, gently, " could you oblige me with a chew of tobacco?"Bat glared at him an instant; but Foley's nerve won.Flushing a bit, Bat stuck his hand into his pocket; took it out; felt hurriedly in the other pocket, and, with some confusion, acknowledged he was short. Felix Kennedy intervened with a slab, and the three men fell at once to talking about the accident.A long time afterwards some of the striking engineers were taken back, but none of those who had been guilty of actual violence. This barred Andy Cameron, who, though not worse than many others, had been less prudent; and while we all felt sorry for him after the other boys had gone to work, Lancaster repeatedly and positively refused to reinstate him.Several times, though, I saw Foley and Cameron in confab, and one day up came Foley to the superintendent's office, leading little Andy, in his overalls, by the hand. They went into Lancaster's office together, and the door was shut a long time.When they came out little Andy had a piece of paper in his hand." Hang on to it, son," cautioned Foley; "but you can show it to Mr. Reed if you want to."The youngster handed me the paper. It was an order directing Andrew Cameron to report to the master-mechanic for service in the morning.I happened over at the round-house one day nearly a year later, when Foley was showing Cameron a new engine, just in from the East. The two men were become great cronies; that day they fell to talking over the strike." There was never but one thing I really laid up against this man," said Cameron to me.What's that?" asked Foley."Why, the way you shoved that pistol into my face the first night you took out No. 1.""I never shoved any pistol into your face." So saying, he stuck his hand into his pocket with the identical motion he used that night of the strike, and leveled at Andy, just as be had done then - a plug of tobacco. " That's all I ever pulled on you, son; I never carried a pistol in my life."Cameron looked at him, then he turned to me, with a tired expression:" I've seen a good many men, with a good many kinds of nerve, but I'll be splintered if I ever saw any one man with all kinds of nerve till I struck Foley."The Westerner
By Badger ClarkMy fathers sleep on the sunrise plains, And each one sleeps alone. Their trails may dim to the grass and rains, For I choose to make my own. I lay proud claim to their blood and name, But I lean on no dead kin; My name is mine for the praise or scorn, And the world began when I was born And the world is mine to win.They built high towns on their old log sills, Where the great, slow rivers gleamed, But with new, live rock from the savage hills I’ll build as they only dreamed. The smoke scarce dies where the trail camp lies, Till rails glint down the pass; The desert springs into fruit and wheat And I lay the stones of a solid street Over yesterday’s untrod grass.I waste no thought on my neighbor’s birth Or the way he makes his prayer. I grant him a white man’s room on earth If his game is only square. While he plays it straight I’ll call him mate; If he cheats I drop him flat. Old class and rank are a worn-out lie, For all clean men are as good as I, And a king is only that.I dream no dreams of a nursemaid State That will spoon me out my food. A stout heart sings in the fray with fate And the shock and sweat are good. From noon to noon all the earthly boon That I ask my God to spare Is a little daily bread in store, With the room to fight the strong for more, And the weak shall get their share.The sunrise plains are a tender haze And the sunset seas are gray, But I stand here, where the bright skies blaze Over me and the big today. What good to me is a vague “maybe” Or a mournful “might have been,” For the sun wheels swift from morn to morn And the world began when I was born And the world is mine to win.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O5uSuUJi3vIRichard Salsman’s “Gold and Liberty” Downloadable For Free at The AIER website
Download it here: Gold and Liberty | AIER
Mr. Salsman’s “Gold and Liberty” emphasizes the importance of the evolution of gold-based money to human advancement and, even more significantly, to human freedom. The book shows what the arbitrary manipulation of the medium of exchange by unelected and unaccountable central bankers really means for ordinary citizens and points the way to useful reform.
Statement of Nick Sandmann, Covington Catholic High School Junior, Regarding Incident at the Lincoln Memorial
I am providing this factual account of what happened on Friday afternoon at the Lincoln Memorial to correct misinformation and outright lies being spread about my family and me.I am the student in the video who was confronted by the Native American protestor. I arrived at the Lincoln Memorial at 4:30 p.m. I was told to be there by 5:30 p.m., when our busses were due to leave Washington for the trip back to Kentucky. We had been attending the March for Life rally, and then had split up into small groups to do sightseeing.When we arrived, we noticed four African American protestors who were also on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. I am not sure what they were protesting, and I did not interact with them. I did hear them direct derogatory insults at our school group.The protestors said hateful things. They called us "racists," "bigots," "white crackers," "faggots," and "incest kids." They also taunted an African American student from my school by telling him that we would "harvest his organs." I have no idea what that insult means, but it was startling to hear.Because we were being loudly attacked and taunted in public, a student in our group asked one of our teacher chaperones for permission to begin our school spirit chants to counter the hateful things that were being shouted at our group. The chants are commonly used at sporting events. They are all positive in nature and sound like what you would hear at any high school. Our chaperone gave us permission to use our school chants. We would not have done that without obtaining permission from the adults in charge of our group.At no time did I hear any student chant anything other than the school spirit chants. I did not witness or hear any students chant "build that wall" or anything hateful or racist at any time. Assertions to the contrary are simply false. Our chants were loud because we wanted to drown out the hateful comments that were being shouted at us by the protestors.After a few minutes of chanting, the Native American protestors, who I hadn't previously noticed, approached our group. The Native American protestors had drums and were accompanied by at least one person with a camera.The protestor everyone has seen in the video began playing his drum as he waded into the crowd, which parted for him. I did not see anyone try to block his path. He locked eyes with me and approached me, coming within inches of my face. He played his drum the entire time he was in my face. I never interacted with this protestor. I did not speak to him. I did not make any hand gestures or other aggressive moves. To be honest, I was startled and confused as to why he had approached me. We had already been yelled at by another group of protestors, and when the second group approached I was worried that a situation was getting out of control where adults were attempting to provoke teenagers.I believed that by remaining motionless and calm, I was helping to diffuse the situation. I realized everyone had cameras and that perhaps a group of adults was trying to provoke a group of teenagers into a larger conflict. I said a silent prayer that the situation would not get out of hand. During the period of the drumming, a member of the protestor's entourage began yelling at a fellow student that we "stole our land" and that we should "go back to Europe." I heard one of my fellow students begin to respond. I motioned to my classmate and tried to get him to stop engaging with the protestor, as I was still in the mindset that we needed to calm down tensions.I never felt like I was blocking the Native American protestor. He did not make any attempt to go around me. It was clear to me that he had singled me out for a confrontation, although I am not sure why.The engagement ended when one of our teachers told me the busses had arrived and it was time to go. I obeyed my teacher and simply walked to the busses. At that moment, I thought I had diffused the situation by remaining calm, and I was thankful nothing physical had occurred.I never understood why either of the two groups of protestors were engaging with us, or exactly what they were protesting at the Lincoln Memorial. We were simply there to meet a bus, not become central players in a media spectacle. This is the first time in my life I've ever encountered any sort of public protest, let alone this kind of confrontation or demonstration. I was not intentionally making faces at the protestor. I did smile at one point because I wanted him to know that I was not going to become angry, intimidated or be provoked into a larger confrontation. I am a faithful Christian and practicing Catholic, and I always try to live up to the ideals my faith teaches me -- to remain respectful of others, and to take no action that would lead to conflict or violence.I harbor no ill will for this person. I respect this person's right to protest and engage in free speech activities, and I support his chanting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial any day of the week. I believe he should re-think his tactics of invading the personal space of others, but that is his choice to make.I am being called every name in the book, including a racist, and I will not stand for this mob-like character assassination of my family's name. My parents were not on the trip, and I strive to represent my family in a respectful way in all public settings.I have received physical and death threats via social media, as well as hateful insults. One person threatened to harm me at school, and one person claims to live in my neighborhood. My parents are receiving death and professional threats because of the social media mob that has formed over this issue.I love my school, my teachers and my classmates. I work hard to achieve good grades and to participate in several extracurricular activities. I am mortified that so many people have come to believe something that did not happen -- that students from my school were chanting or acting in a racist fashion toward African Americans or Native Americans. I did not do that, do not have hateful feelings in my heart, and did not witness any of my classmates doing that.I cannot speak for everyone, only for myself. But I can tell you my experience with Covington Catholic is that students are respectful of all races and cultures. We also support everyone's right to free speech.I am not going to comment on the words or account of Mr. Phillips, as I don't know him and would not presume to know what is in his heart or mind. Nor am I going to comment further on the other protestors, as I don't know their hearts or minds, either.I have read that Mr. Phillips is a veteran of the United States Marines. I thank him for his service and am grateful to anyone who puts on the uniform to defend our nation. If anyone has earned the right to speak freely, it is a U.S. Marine veteran.I can only speak for myself and what I observed and felt at the time. But I would caution everyone passing judgement based on a few seconds of video to watch the longer video clips that are on the internet, as they show a much different story than is being portrayed by people with agendas.I provided this account of events to the Diocese of Covington so they may know exactly what happened, and I stand ready and willing to cooperate with any investigation they are conducting.Amy Peikoff on Free Markets and Values with Tucker Carlson
https://youtu.be/f7ZNudCm8wYAmy Peikoff (again) on Tucker Carlson Tonight discussing the connection between free markets and values--the ability to live the good life and be happy.Aristotle on Excellence
"Excellence is an art won by training and habituation. We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence then is not an act, but a habit." -- Aristotle
John Allison On The Role Objectivism Has Played In His Business Success
John Allison highlights the key role Objectivism has played in his success. Allison, the former Chairman and CEO of BB&T, was selected by the Harvard Business Review as one of the one hundred most successful CEOs in the world.Recorded at Objectivist Summer Conference (OCON).Amy Peikoff Takes On Socialist Media Darling Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez
Writes Amy Peikoff in a blog post on Answering AOC:I’ve started a new series of tweets. I’m calling it “Answering AOC,” and I’m tweeting in response to Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, who is emerging as the leading proponent of socialism in the United States. I’m distributing the tweets not only on Twitter, but also on Instagram and Facebook. So if you’re on any of these platforms, and you’d like to help me spread the message, please do. There are three in the series so far, and I’m pinning this one:
Thomas Jefferson on the “Biblical Foundations” of America
Writes Mr. Jefferson writes in his Autobiography,“…an amendment was proposed by inserting the words, ‘Jesus Christ … the holy author of our religion,’” which was rejected “by a great majority in proof that they meant to comprehend, within the mantle of its protection, the Jew and the Gentile, the Christian and the Mohammedan, the Hindu, and the Infidel of every denomination.”Moreover, in A Bill for Establishing Religious Freedom, Jefferson writes, “…that our civil rights have no dependence on religious opinions, any more than our opinions in physics and geometry…”This attitude to religion is best summarized by Thomas Jefferson who writes,
“Shake off all the fears of servile prejudices, under which weak minds are servilely crouched. Fix reason firmly in her seat, and call on her tribunal for every fact, every opinion. Question with boldness even the existence of a God, because, if there be one, he must more approve of the homage of reason than that of a blind faith.”
The Saga of Rahaf Mohammed
Writes Amy Peikoff over at News Sandwich:This week we learned of a beautiful, courageous, independent woman who had the initiative to escape her abusive, traditional Muslim, Saudi Arabian family. She was en route to Australia, tourist visa in hand, and ended up being detained by the Thai authorities, who–under pressure from Saudi Arabia–intended to send her back to her family. But did she give up? No. She barricaded herself in her airport hotel room, where she was told to wait for the next flight back to Kuwait. And she started tweeting. Soon the whole world became aware of her plight, putting enough pressure on the Thai authorities that they had to refrain from forcibly deporting her, and allow the United Nations to intervene.Read the rest of Amy's commentary at News Sandwich.
The Government, Not Capitalism, Was Responsible for the Financial Crisis of 2008-9
Writes Richard Salsman on The Financial Crisis: Lessons Not Learned | AIER:
"The financial crisis of 2008-9 — accompanied by the Great Recession, a doubling of the U.S. jobless rate (to 10 percent), and a plunge in major stock-price indexes (−53 percent, peak to trough) — was caused by government intervention, mainly in mortgage finance and the housing sector. Unfortunately, that’s not the conventional interpretation, so no subsequent policy change has been adopted to correct the problem; in fact, still more intervention has occurred, via the Dodd-Frank Act (2010) and Federal Reserve capital policies and controls on bank dividends. Since the lesson of 2008-9 has not been learned, further crises are likely, but with still more severe consequences, given the accumulation of still more powers of state intervention."
To learn the lessons that American politicians and the intellectuals they follow have failed to grasp, read the rest of The Financial Crisis: Lessons Not Learned.