October 2018
- Gilder, George. Life after Google. Washington: Regnery Publishing, 2018. ISBN 978-1-62157-576-4.
-
In his 1990 book Life after Television,
George Gilder predicted that the personal computer, then mostly boxes
that sat on desktops and worked in isolation from one another,
would become more personal, mobile, and be used more to communicate
than to compute. In the 1994 revised edition of the book, he
wrote. “The most common personal computer of the next decade will be
a digital cellular phone with an IP address … connecting
to thousands of databases of all kinds.” In contemporary
speeches he expanded on the idea, saying, “it will be as
portable as your watch and as personal as your wallet; it will
recognize speech and navigate streets; it will collect your
mail, your news, and your paycheck.” In 2000, he
published Telecosm, where
he forecast that the building out of a fibre optic communication
infrastructure and the development of successive generations of
spread spectrum digital mobile communication technologies would
effectively cause the cost of communication bandwidth (the quantity
of data which can be transmitted in a given time) to asymptotically
approach zero, just as the ability to pack more and more transistors
on microprocessor and memory chips was doing for computing.
Clearly, when George Gilder forecasts the future of computing,
communication, and the industries and social phenomena that
spring from them, it's wise to pay attention. He's not
infallible: in 1990 he predicted that “in the world of
networked computers, no one would have to see an advertisement
he didn't want to see”. Oh, well. The
very difference between that happy vision and the
advertisement-cluttered world we inhabit today, rife with
bots, malware, scams, and serial large-scale security breaches
which compromise the personal data of millions of people and
expose them to identity theft and other forms of fraud is the
subject of this book: how we got here, and how technology is
opening a path to move on to a better place.
The Internet was born with decentralisation as a central
concept. Its U.S. government-funded precursor,
ARPANET,
was intended to research and demonstrate the technology
of packet
switching, in which dedicated communication lines
from point to point (as in the telephone network) were
replaced by switching packets, which can represent all
kinds of data—text, voice, video, mail, cat
pictures—from source to destination over shared high-speed
data links. If the network had multiple paths from source
to destination, failure of one data link would simply cause
the network to reroute traffic onto a working path, and
communication protocols would cause any packets lost in the
failure to be automatically re-sent, preventing loss of
data. The network might degrade and deliver data more slowly
if links or switching hubs went down, but everything
would still get through.
This was very attractive to military planners in the Cold
War, who worried about a nuclear attack decapitating their
command and control network by striking one or a few
locations through which their communications funnelled. A
distributed network, of which ARPANET was the prototype,
would be immune to this kind of top-down attack because
there was no top: it was made up of peers, spread all over
the landscape, all able to switch data among themselves
through a mesh of interconnecting links.
As the ARPANET grew into the Internet and expanded from a small
community of military, government, university, and large
company users into a mass audience in the 1990s, this
fundamental architecture was preserved, but in practice the
network bifurcated into a two tier structure. The top tier
consisted of the original ARPANET-like users, plus
“Internet Service Providers” (ISPs), who had
top-tier (“backbone”) connectivity, and then
resold Internet access to their customers, who mostly
initially connected via dial-up modems. Over time, these customers
obtained higher bandwidth via cable television connections,
satellite dishes, digital subscriber lines (DSL) over
the wired telephone network, and, more recently, mobile
devices such as cellular telephones and tablets.
The architecture of the Internet remained the same, but this
evolution resulted in a weakening of its peer-to-peer
structure. The approaching exhaustion
of 32 bit Internet addresses
(IPv4) and
the slow deployment of its successor
(IPv6)
meant most small-scale Internet users did not have a
permanent address where others could contact them. In an
attempt to shield users from the flawed security model and
implementation of the software they ran, their Internet
connections were increasingly placed behind firewalls and subjected to
Network Address Translation (NAT), which made it impossible
to establish peer to peer connections without a third party
intermediary (which, of course, subverts the design goal of
decentralisation). While on the ARPANET and the original
Internet every site was a peer of every other (subject only
to the speed of their network connections and computer power
available to handle network traffic), the network population
now became increasingly divided into producers or publishers (who
made information available), and consumers (who used the network
to access the publishers' sites but did not publish themselves).
While in the mid-1990s it was easy (or as easy as anything
was in that era) to set up your own Web server and publish
anything you wished, now most small-scale users were forced to employ
hosting services operated by the publishers to make their
content available. Services such as AOL, Myspace, Blogger,
Facebook, and YouTube were widely used by
individuals and companies to host their content, while
those wishing their own apparently independent Web presence
moved to hosting providers who supplied, for a fee, the
servers, storage, and Internet access used by the site.
All of this led to a centralisation of data on the Web,
which was accelerated by the emergence of the high speed
fibre optic links and massive computing power upon which Gilder had
based his 1990 and 2000 forecasts. Both of these
came with great economies of scale: it cost a company
like Google or Amazon much less per unit of computing
power or network bandwidth to build a large, industrial-scale
data centre located where electrical power and cooling
were inexpensive and linked to the Internet backbone
by multiple fibre optic channels, than it cost an individual
Internet user or small company with their own server
on premises and a modest speed link to an ISP. Thus it
became practical for these Goliaths of the Internet to
suck up everybody's data and resell their computing power
and access at attractive prices.
As a example of the magnitude of the economies of scale we're
talking about, when I migrated the hosting of my
Fourmilab.ch site from my own
on-site servers and Internet connection to an Amazon Web
Services data centre, my monthly bill for hosting the site
dropped by a factor of fifty—not fifty percent,
one fiftieth the cost, and you can bet Amazon's
making money on the deal.
This tremendous centralisation is the antithesis of the concept
of ARPANET. Instead of a worldwide grid of redundant data links
and data distributed everywhere, we have a modest number of huge
data centres linked by fibre optic cables carrying traffic for
millions of individuals and enterprises. A couple of submarines
full of
Trident
D5s would probably suffice to reset the world, computer
network-wise, to 1970.
As this concentration was occurring, the same companies who were
building the data centres were offering more and more services
to users of the Internet: search engines; hosting of blogs,
images, audio, and video; E-mail services; social networks of
all kinds; storage and collaborative working tools;
high-resolution maps and imagery of the world; archives of data
and research material; and a host of others. How was all of
this to be paid for? Those giant data centres, after all,
represent a capital investment of tens of billions of
dollars, and their electricity bills are comparable to those of
an aluminium smelter. Due to the architecture of the Internet
or, more precisely, missing pieces of the puzzle, a fateful
choice was made in the early days of the build-out of these
services which now pervade our lives, and we're all
paying the price for it. So far, it has allowed the few
companies in this data oligopoly to join the ranks of the
largest, most profitable, and most highly valued enterprises in
human history, but they may be built on a flawed business model
and foundation vulnerable to disruption by software and
hardware technologies presently emerging.
The basic business model of what we might call the “consumer
Internet” (as opposed to businesses who pay to host their
Web presence, on-line stores, etc.) has, with few exceptions,
evolved to be what the author calls the “Google model”
(although it predates Google): give the product away and make money
by afflicting its users with advertisements (which are increasingly
targeted to them through information collected from the user's
behaviour on the network through intrusive tracking mechanisms).
The fundamental flaws of this are apparent to anybody who uses
the Internet: the constant clutter of advertisements, with
pop-ups, pop-overs, auto-play video and audio, flashing banners,
incessant requests to allow tracking “cookies” or
irritating notifications, and the consequent arms race between
ad blockers and means to circumvent them, with browser developers
(at least those not employed by those paid by the advertisers,
directly or indirectly) caught in the middle.
There are even absurd Web sites which charge a subscription fee
for “membership” and then bombard these paying
customers with advertisements that insult their intelligence.
But there is a fundamental problem with
“free”—it destroys the most important channel
of communication between the vendor of a product or service and
the customer: the price the customer is willing to pay.
Deprived of this information, the vendor is in the same position
as a factory manager in a centrally planned economy who has no
idea how many of each item to make because his orders are handed
down by a planning bureau equally clueless about what is
needed in the absence of a price signal. In the end, you have
freight cars of typewriter ribbons lined up on sidings while
customers wait in line for hours in the hope of buying a
new pair of shoes. Further, when the user is not the customer
(the one who pays), and especially when a “free”
service verges on monopoly status like Google search, Gmail,
Facebook, and Twitter, there is little incentive for providers
to improve the user experience or be responsive to user requests
and needs. Users are subjected to the endless torment of buggy
“beta” releases, capricious change for the sake of
change, and compromises in the user experience on behalf of the
real customers—the advertisers. Once again, this mirrors
the experience of centrally-planned economies where the market
feedback from price is absent: to appreciate this, you need only
compare consumer products from the 1970s and 1980s manufactured
in the Soviet Union with those from Japan.
The fundamental flaw in Karl Marx's economics was his
belief that the industrial revolution of his time would produce
such abundance of goods that the problem would shift from
“production amid scarcity” to “redistribution
of abundance”. In the author's view, the neo-Marxists of
Silicon Valley see the exponentially growing technologies of
computing and communication providing such abundance that they
can give away its fruits in return for collecting and monetising
information collected about their users (note, not
“customers”: customers are those who pay for the
information so collected). Once you grasp this, it's
easier to understand the politics of the barons of Silicon
Valley.
The centralisation of data and information flow in these
vast data silos creates another threat to which a
distributed system is immune: censorship or manipulation of
information flow, whether by a coercive government or
ideologically-motivated management of the companies who
provide these “free” services. We may never
know who first said “The Internet treats censorship as
damage and routes around it” (the quote has been
attributed to numerous people, including two personal
friends, so I'm not going there), but it's profound: the
original decentralised structure of the ARPANET/Internet
is as robust against censorship as it is in the face of
nuclear war. If one or more nodes on the network start to
censor information or refuse to forward it on communication
links it controls, the network routing protocols simply assume
that node is down and send data around it through other nodes
and paths which do not censor it. On a network with a
multitude of nodes and paths among them, owned by a large
and diverse population of operators, it is extraordinarily
difficult to shut down the flow of information from a given
source or viewpoint; there will almost always be an
alternative route that gets it there. (Cryptographic
protocols and secure and verified identities can similarly
avoid the alteration of information in transit or forging
information and attributing it to a different originator;
I'll discuss that later.) As with physical damage,
top-down censorship does not work because there's no top.
But with the current centralised Internet, the owners and
operators of these data silos have enormous power to put their
thumbs on the scale, tilting opinion in their favour and
blocking speech they oppose. Google can push down the page
rank of information sources of which they disapprove, so
few users will find them. YouTube can “demonetise”
videos because they dislike their content,
cutting off their creators' revenue stream overnight
with no means of appeal, or they can outright ban creators
from the platform and remove their existing content. Twitter
routinely “shadow-bans” those with whom they disagree,
causing their tweets to disappear into the void, and outright
banishes those more vocal. Internet payment processors and
crowd funding sites enforce explicit ideological litmus tests
on their users, and revoke long-standing commercial relationships
over legal speech. One might restate the original observation
about the Internet as “The centralised Internet treats
censorship as an opportunity and says,
‘Isn't it great!’ ” Today there's
a top, and those on top control the speech of everything that
flows through their data silos.
This pernicious centralisation and “free” funding
by advertisement (which is fundamentally plundering users'
most precious possessions: their time and attention) were
in large part the consequence of the Internet's lacking three
fundamental architectural layers: security, trust, and transactions.
Let's explore them.
Security. Essential to any useful communication
system, security simply means that communications between
parties on the network cannot be intercepted by third parties,
modified en route, or otherwise manipulated (for example, by
changing the order in which messages are received). The
communication protocols of the Internet, based on the
OSI model,
had no explicit security layer. It was expected to be
implemented outside the model, across the layers of
protocol. On today's Internet, security has been bolted-on,
largely through the
Transport
Layer Security (TLS) protocols (which, due to history, have
a number of other commonly used names, and are most often
encountered in the “https:” URLs by
which users access Web sites). But because it's bolted on, not
designed in from the bottom-up, and because it “just grew”
rather than having been designed in, TLS has been the locus of
numerous security flaws which put software that employs it
at risk. Further, TLS is a tool which must be used by application
designers with extreme care in order to deliver security to their
users. Even if TLS were completely flawless, it is very easy to
misuse it in an application and compromise users' security.
Trust. As indispensable as security is knowing to whom you're
talking. For example, when you connect to your bank's Web site,
how do you know you're actually talking to their server and not
some criminal whose computer has spoofed your computer's domain
name system server to intercept your communications and who, the
moment you enter your password, will be off and running to empty
your bank accounts and make your life a living Hell? Once again,
trust has been bolted on to the existing Internet through a
rickety system of “certificates” issued mostly by
large companies for outrageous fees. And, as with anything
centralised, it's vulnerable: in 2016, one of the
top-line certificate vendors was compromised, requiring myriad
Web sites (including this one) to re-issue their security
certificates.
Transactions. Business is all about
transactions; if you aren't doing transactions, you aren't
in business or, as Gilder puts it, “In business, the
ability to conduct transactions is not optional. It is the
way all economic learning and growth occur. If your product is
‘free,’ it is not a product, and you are not in
business, even if you can extort money from so-called
advertisers to fund it.” The present-day Internet
has no transaction layer, even bolted on. Instead, we have
more silos and bags hanging off the side of the Internet
called PayPal, credit card processing companies, and the
like, which try to put a Band-Aid over the suppurating
wound which is the absence of a way to send money over the
Internet in a secure, trusted, quick, efficient, and
low-overhead manner. The need for this was perceived long
before ARPANET. In
Project
Xanadu, founded by
Ted Nelson
in 1960, rule 9 of the
“original 17 rules” was, “Every document can
contain a royalty mechanism at any desired degree of granularity
to ensure payment on any portion accessed, including virtual
copies (‘transclusions’) of all or part of the
document.” While defined in terms of documents and
quoting, this implied the existence of a
micropayment
system which would allow compensating authors and publishers
for copies and quotations of their work with a granularity as
small as one character, and could easily be extended to cover
payments for products and services. A micropayment system must
be able to handle very small payments without crushing
overhead, extremely quickly, and transparently (without the
Japanese tea ceremony that buying something on-line involves
today). As originally envisioned by Ted Nelson, as you read
documents, their authors and publishers would be automatically
paid for their content, including payments to the originators of
material from others embedded within them. As long as the total
price for the document was less than what I termed the user's
“threshold of paying”, this would be completely
transparent (a user would set the threshold in the browser: if
zero, they'd have to approve all payments). There would be
no need for advertisements to support publication on a public
hypertext network (although publishers would, of course, be free
to adopt that model if they wished). If implemented in a
decentralised way, like the ARPANET, there would be no
central strangle point where censorship could be applied by
cutting off the ability to receive payments.
So, is it possible to remake the Internet, building in
security, trust, and transactions as the foundation, and replace
what the author calls the “Google system of the world”
with one in which the data silos are seen as obsolete,
control of users' personal data and work returns to their
hands, privacy is respected and the panopticon snooping of
today is seen as a dark time we've put behind us, and the
pervasive and growing censorship by plutocrat
ideologues and slaver governments becomes impotent and
obsolete? George Gilder responds “yes”, and
in this book identifies technologies already existing and
being deployed which can bring about this transformation.
At the heart of many of these technologies is the concept
of a blockchain,
an open, distributed ledger which records transactions or any
other form of information in a permanent, public, and verifiable
manner. Originally conceived as the transaction ledger for
the Bitcoin
cryptocurrency,
it provided the first means of solving the
double-spending
problem (how do you keep people from spending a unit of
electronic currency twice) without the need for a central server
or trusted authority, and hence without a potential choke-point
or vulnerability to attack or failure. Since the launch of
Bitcoin in 2009, blockchain technology has become a major area
of research, with banks and other large financial institutions,
companies such as IBM, and major university research groups
exploring applications with the goals of drastically reducing
transaction costs, improving security, and hardening systems
against single-point failure risks.
Applied to the Internet, blockchain technology can provide
security and trust (through the permanent publication of public
keys which identify actors on the network), and a transaction
layer able to efficiently and quickly execute micropayments
without the overhead, clutter, friction, and security risks of
existing payment systems. By necessity, present-day blockchain
implementations are add-ons to the existing Internet, but as the
technology matures and is verified and tested, it can move into
the foundations of a successor system, based on the same
lower-level protocols (and hence compatible with the installed
base), but eventually supplanting the patched-together
architecture of the
Domain
Name System,
certificate
authorities, and payment processors, all of which
represent vulnerabilities of the present-day Internet and
points at which censorship and control can be imposed. Technologies
to watch in these areas are:
As the bandwidth available to users on the edge of the network
increases through the deployment of fibre to the home and
enterprise and via
5G mobile
technology, the data transfer economy of scale of the great
data silos will begin to erode. Early in the Roaring Twenties,
the aggregate computing power and communication bandwidth on
the edge of the network will equal and eventually dwarf that
of the legacy data smelters of Google, Facebook, Twitter, and
the rest. There will no longer be any need for users to entrust
their data to these overbearing anachronisms and consent to multi-dozen
page “terms of service” or endure advertising
just to see their own content or share it with others. You
will be in possession of your own data, on your own server or
on space for which you freely contract with others, with backup and
other services contracted with any other provider on the
network. If your server has extra capacity, you can turn it
into money by joining the market for computing and storage
capacity, just as you take advantage of these resources when
required. All of this will be built on the new secure foundation,
so you will retain complete control over who can see your
data, no longer trusting weasel-worded promises made by
amorphous entities with whom you have no real contract to
guard your privacy and intellectual property rights. If
you wish, you can be paid for your content, with remittances
made automatically as people access it. More and more, you'll
make tiny payments for content which is no longer obstructed by
advertising and chopped up to accommodate more clutter. And
when outrage mobs of pink hairs and soybeards (each with their
own pronoun) come howling to ban you from the Internet, they'll
find nobody to shriek at and the kill switch rusting away in a
derelict data centre: your data will be in your own hands with
access through myriad routes.
Technologies moving in this direction include:
- Inrupt
- Brave Web browser and Basic Attention Token
- Golem distributed supercomputer
- OTOY RNDR rendering network
- Day, Vox [Theodore Beale]. SJWs Always Double Down. Kouvola, Finland: Castalia House, 2017. ISBN 978-952-7065-19-8.
-
In SJWs Always Lie (October 2015)
Vox Day
introduced a wide audience to the contemporary phenomenon of
Social Justice Warriors (SJWs), collectivists and radical conformists
burning with the fierce ardour of ignorance who, flowing out
of the academic jackal bins where they are manufactured, are
infiltrating the culture: science fiction and fantasy,
comic books, video games; and industry: technology companies,
open source software development, and more established and
conventional firms whose managements have often already
largely bought into the social justice agenda.
The present volume updates the status of the Cold Civil War
a couple of years on, recounts some key battles,
surveys changes in the landscape, and provides
concrete and practical advice to those who wish to avoid
SJW penetration of their organisations or excise an infiltration
already under way.
Two major things have changed since 2015. The first, and most
obvious, is the election of Donald Trump as President of the
United States in November, 2016. It is impossible to overstate
the significance of this. Up until the evening of Election
Day, the social justice warriors were absolutely confident
they had won on every front and that all that remained was
to patrol the battlefield and bayonet the wounded. They were
ascendant across the culture, in virtually total control of
academia and the media, and with the coronation of Hillary
Clinton, positioned to tilt the Supreme Court to discover
the remainder of their agenda emanating from penumbras in
the living Constitution. And then—disaster!
The deplorables who inhabit the heartland of the country,
those knuckle-walking, Bible-thumping, gun-waving bitter
clingers who produce just about every tangible thing still made
in the United States up and elected somebody who said he'd
put them—not the coastal élites, ivory tower
professors and think tankers, “refugees” and the
racket that imports them, “undocumented migrants”
and the businesses that exploit their cheap labour, and all
the rest of the parasitic ball and chain a once-great and
productive nation has been dragging behind it for decades—first.
The shock of this event seems to have jolted a large
fraction of the social justice warriors loose from their
(already tenuous) moorings to reality. “What
could have happened?”, they shrieked, “It
must have been the Russians!” Overnight, there was
the “resistance”, the rampage of masked violent
street mobs, while at the same time SJW leaders in the
public eye increasingly dropped the masks behind which
they'd concealed their actual agenda. Now we have
candidates for national office from the Democrat party,
such as bug-eyed SJW
Alexandria
Occasional-Cortex openly
calling themselves socialists, while others chant “no
borders” and advocate
abolishing
the federal immigration
and customs enforcement agency. What's the response to
deranged leftists trying to
gun
down Republican legislators
at a baseball practice and
assaulting
a U.S. Senator while
mowing the lawn of his home? The Democrat candidate who lost
to Trump in 2016 says,
“You
cannot be civil with a political
party that wants to destroy what you stand for, what you
care about.”, and the attorney general, the chief law
enforcement officer of the administration which preceded
Trump in office said,
“When
they go low, we kick
them. That's what this new Democratic party is about.”
In parallel with this, the SJW convergence of the major
technology and communication companies which increasingly
dominate the flow of news and information and the public
discourse: Google (and its YouTube), Facebook, Twitter, Amazon,
and the rest, previously covert, has now become explicit. They
no longer feign neutrality to content, or position themselves
as common carriers. Now, they overtly put their thumb on the
scale of public discourse, pushing down conservative and
nationalist voices in search rankings, de-monetising or
banning videos that oppose the slaver agenda, “shadow
banning” dissenting voices or terminating their
accounts entirely. Payment platforms and crowd-funding
sites enforce an ideological agenda and cut off access to
those they consider insufficiently on board with the
collectivist, globalist party line. The high tech industry,
purporting to cherish “diversity”, has become openly
hostile to anybody who dares dissent: firing them and blacklisting
them from employment at other similarly converged firms.
It would seem a dark time for champions of liberty, believers in
reward for individual merit rather than grievance group
membership, and other forms of sanity which are now considered
unthinkable among the unthinking. This book provides a breath of
fresh air, a sense of hope, and practical information to
navigate a landscape populated by all too many non-playable
characters who imbibe, repeat, and enforce the
Narrative without
questioning or investigating how it is created, disseminated in
a co-ordinated manner across all media, and adjusted (including
Stalinist party-line overnight turns on a dime) to advance the
slaver agenda.
Vox Day walks through the eight stages of SJW convergence
of an organisation from infiltration through evading the
blame for the inevitable failure of the organisation once
fully converged, illustrating the process with real-world
examples and quotes from SJWs and companies infested with
them. But the progression of the disease is not irreversible,
and even if it is not arrested, there is still hope for the
industry and society as a whole (not to minimise the injury
and suffering inflicted on innocent and productive individuals
in the affected organisations).
An organisation, whether a company, government agency, or
open source software project, only comes onto the radar of
the SJWs once it grows to a certain size and achieves a
degree of success carrying out the mission for which it was
created. It is at this point that SJWs will seek to penetrate
the organisation, often through the human resources department,
and then reinforce their ranks by hiring more of their kind.
SJWs flock to positions in which there is no objective measure
of their performance, but instead evaluations performed, as
their ranks grow, more and more by one another. They are
not only uninterested in the organisation's mission (developing
a product, providing a service, etc.), but unqualified and
incapable of carrying it out. In the words of
Jerry Pournelle's
Iron
Law of Bureaucracy, they are not “those who are
devoted to the goals of the organization” (founders,
productive mission-oriented members), but “those dedicated
to the organization itself”. “The Iron Law states
that in every case the second group will gain and keep control
of the organization. It will write the rules, and control
promotions within the organization.”
Now, Dr Pournelle was describing a natural process of evolution in
all bureaucratic organisations. SJW infection simply accelerates
the process and intensifies the damage, because SJWs are not just
focused on the organisation as opposed to its mission, but have
their own independent agenda and may not care about damage to the
institution as long as they can advance the Narrative.
But this is a good thing. It means that, in a
competitive market, SJW afflicted organisations will be at a
disadvantage compared to those which have resisted the corruption
or thrown it off. It makes inflexible, slow-moving players
with a heavy load of SJW parasites
vulnerable to insurgent competitors, often with their founders
still in charge, mission-focused and customer-oriented, who
hire, promote, and reward contributors solely based on merit
and not “diversity”, “inclusion”, or
any of the other SJW shibboleths mouthed by the management of
converged organisations. (I remember, when asked about
my hiring policy in the 1980s, saying “I don't care if
they hang upside down from trees and drink blood. If they're great
programmers, I'll hire them.”)
A detailed history of GamerGate provides a worked example of
how apparent SJW hegemony within a community can be attacked
by “weaponised autism” (as
Milo Yiannopoulos
said, “it's really not wise to take on a collection of
individuals whose idea of entertainment is to spend hundreds of
hours at a highly repetitive task, especially when their core
philosophy is founded on the principle that if you are running
into enemies and taking fire, you must be going the right
way”). Further examples show how these techniques have
been applied within the world of science fiction and fantasy
fandom, comic books, and software development. The key
take-away is that any SJW converged organisation or community is
vulnerable to concerted attack because SJWs are a parasite that
ultimately kills its host. Create an alternative and
relentlessly attack the converged competition, and victory is
possible. And remember, “Victory is not positive PR.
Victory is when your opponent quits.”
This is a valuable guide, building upon
SJWs Always Lie (which you should
read first), and is essential for managers, project leaders,
and people responsible for volunteer organisations who want to
keep them focused on the goals for which they were founded and
protected from co-optation by destructive parasites. You
will learn how seemingly innocent initiatives such as adoption
of an ambiguously-worded Code of Conduct or a Community
Committee can be the wedge by which an organisation can be
subverted and its most productive members forced out or induced
to walk away in disgust. Learning the lessons presented here
can make the difference between success and, some dismal day,
gazing across the cubicles at a sea of pinkhairs and soybeards
and asking yourself, “Where did we go wrong?”
The very fact that SJW behaviour is so predictable makes them
vulnerable. Because they always double down,
they can be manipulated into marginalising themselves, and it's
often child's play to set traps into which they'll walk. Much
of their success to date has been due to the absence of the kind
of hard-edged opposition, willing to employ their own tactics
against them, that you'll see in action here and learn to use
yourself. This is not a game for the “defeat with
dignity” crowd who were, and are, appalled by Donald
Trump's plain speaking, or those who fail to realise that
proclaiming “I won't stoop to their level”
inevitably ends up with “Bend over”. The battles,
and the war can be won, but to do so, you have to fight. Here
is a guide to closing with the enemy and destroying them
before they ruin everything we hold sacred.
- Mills, Kyle. Red War. New York: Atria Books, 2018. ISBN 978-1-5011-9059-9.
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This is the fourth novel in the Mitch Rapp saga written by Kyle
Mills, who took over the franchise after the death of Vince
Flynn, its creator. On the cover, Vince Flynn still gets top
billing (he is now the “brand”, not the author),
but Kyle Mills demonstrates here that he's a worthy successor
who is taking Rapp and the series in new directions.
In the previous novel, Enemy of the
State (June 2018), Rapp went totally off
the radar, resigning from the CIA, recruiting a band of
blackguards, many former adversaries, to mount an operation
aimed at a nominal U.S. ally. This time, the circumstances
are very different. Rapp is back at the CIA, working with his
original team headed by Scott Coleman, who has now more or
less recovered from the severe injuries he sustained in
the earlier novel Order to Kill
(December 2017), with Claudia Gould, now sharing a house
with Rapp, running logistics for their missions.
Vladimir Krupin, President/autocrat of Russia, is ailing. Having
climbed to the top of the pyramid in that deeply corrupt
country, he now fears his body is failing him, with bouts of
incapacitating headaches, blurred vision, and disorientation
coming more and more frequently. He and his physician have
carefully kept the condition secret, as any hint of weakness at
the top would likely invite one or more of his rivals to make
a move to unseat him. Worse, under the screwed-down lid of
the Russian pressure cooker, popular dissatisfaction with the
dismal economy, lack of freedom, and dearth of opportunity is
growing, with popular demonstrations reaching Red Square.
The CIA knows nothing of Krupin's illness, but has been
observing what seems to be increasingly erratic behaviour.
In the past, Krupin has been ambitious and willing to
commit outrages, but has always drawn his plans carefully
and acted deliberately, but now he seemed to be doing things
almost at random, sometimes against his own interests. Russian
hackers launch an attack that takes down a large part of the
power grid in Costa Rica. A Russian strike team launches an
assault on Krupin's retired assassin and Rapp's former nemesis
and recent ally, Grisha Azarov. Military maneuvers in the
Ukraine seem to foreshadow open confrontation should that
country move toward NATO membership.
Krupin, well aware of the fate of dictators who lose their
grip on power, and knowing that nothing rallies support behind
a leader like a bold move on the international stage, devises
a grand plan to re-assert Russian greatness, right a wrong
inflicted by the West, and drive a stake into the heart of
NATO. Rapp and Azarov, continuing their uneasy alliance,
driven by entirely different motives, undertake a
desperate mission in the very belly of the bear to avert
what could all too easily end in World War III.
There are a number of goofs, which I can't discuss without
risk of spoilers, so I'll take them behind the curtain.
Spoiler warning: Plot and/or ending details follow.The copy editing is not up to the standard you'd expect in a bestseller published by an imprint of Simon & Schuster. On three occasions, “Balkan” appears where “Baltic” is intended. This can be pretty puzzling the first time you encounter it. Afterward, it's good for a chuckle. In chapter 39, one of Rapp's allies tries to establish a connection on a land-line “telephone that looked like it had been around since the 1950s” and then, just a few paragraphs later, we read “There was a USB port hidden in the simple electronics…”. Huh? I've seen (and used) a lot of 1950s telephones, but danged if I can remember one with a USB port (which wasn't introduced until 1996). Later in the same chapter Rapp is riding a horse, “working only with a map and compass, necessary because of the Russians' ability to zero in on electronic signals.” This betrays a misunderstanding of how GPS works which, while common, is jarring in a techno-thriller that tries to get things right. A GPS receiver is totally passive: it receives signals from the navigation satellites but transmits nothing and cannot be detected by electronic surveillance equipment. There is no reason Rapp could not have used GPS or GLONASS satellites to navigate. In chapter 49, Rapp fires two rounds into a door locking keypad and “was rewarded with a cascade of sparks…”. Oh, please—even in Russia, security keypads are not wired up to high voltage lines that would emit showers of sparks. This is a movie cliché which doesn't belong in a novel striving for realism.This is a well-crafted thriller which broadens the scope of the Rapp saga into Tom Clancy territory. Things happen, which will leave the world in a different place after they occur. It blends Rapp and Azarov's barely restrained loose cannon operations with high-level diplomacy and intrigue, plus an interesting strategic approach to pledges of defence which the will and resources of those who made them may not be equal to the challenge when the balloon goes up and the tanks start to roll. And Grisha Azarov's devotion to his girlfriend is truly visceral.Spoilers end here.
- Churchill, Winston S. Savrola. Seattle: CreateSpace, [1898, 1900] 2018. ISBN 978-1-7271-2358-6.
-
In 1897, the young (23 year old) Winston Churchill, on an
ocean voyage from Britain to India to rejoin the army
in the Malakand campaign of 1897, turned his pen to
fiction and began this, his first and only novel. He
set the work aside to write
The Story of the Malakand Field Force, an account
of the fighting and his first published work of
non-fiction, then returned to the novel, completing it
in 1898. It was serialised in Macmillan's
Magazine in that year. (Churchill's working
title, Affairs of State, was changed by
the magazine's editors to Savrola, the name
of a major character in the story.) The novel was
subsequently published as book under that title in 1900.
The story takes place in the fictional Mediterranean country
of Laurania, where five years before the events chronicled
here, a destructive civil war had ended with General Antonio
Molara taking power as President and ruling as a dictator
with the support of the military forces he commanded in
the war. Prior to the conflict, Laurania had a long
history as a self-governing republic, and unrest was growing
as more and more of the population demanded a return to
parliamentary rule. Molara announced that elections would be
held for a restored parliament under the original constitution.
Then, on the day the writ ordering the election was to be
issued, it was revealed that the names of more than half of
the citizens on the electoral rolls had been struck by
Molara's order. A crowd gathered in the public square,
on hearing this news, became an agitated mob and threatened
to storm the President's carriage. The officer commanding
the garrison commanded his troops to fire on the
crowd.
All was now over. The spirit of the mob was broken and the wide expanse of Constitution Square was soon nearly empty. Forty bodies and some expended cartridges lay on the ground. Both had played their part in the history of human development and passed out of the considerations of living men. Nevertheless, the soldiers picked up the empty cases, and presently some police came with carts and took the other things away, and all was quiet again in Laurania.
The massacre, as it was called even by the popular newspaper The Diurnal Gusher which nominally supported the Government, not to mention the opposition press, only compounded the troubles Molara saw in every direction he looked. While the countryside was with him, sentiment in the capital was strongly with the pro-democracy opposition. Among the army, only the élite Republican Guard could be counted on as reliably loyal, and their numbers were small. A diplomatic crisis was brewing with the British over Laurania's colony in Africa which might require sending the Fleet, also loyal, away to defend it. A rebel force, camped right across the border, threatens invasion at any sign of Molara's grip on the nation weakening. And then there is Savrola. Savrola (we never learn his first name), is the young (32 years), charismatic, intellectual, and persuasive voice of the opposition. While never stepping across the line sufficiently to justify retaliation, he manages to keep the motley groups of anti-Government forces in a loose coalition and is a constant thorn in the side of the authorities. He was not immune from introspection.Was it worth it? The struggle, the labour, the constant rush of affairs, the sacrifice of so many things that make life easy, or pleasant—for what? A people's good! That, he could not disguise from himself, was rather the direction than the cause of his efforts. Ambition was the motive force, and he was powerless to resist it.
This is a character one imagines the young Churchill having little difficulty writing. With the seemingly incorruptible Savrola gaining influence and almost certain to obtain a political platform in the coming elections, Molara's secretary, the amoral but effective Miguel, suggests a stratagem: introduce Savrola to the President's stunningly beautiful wife Lucile and use the relationship to compromise him.“You are a scoundrel—an infernal scoundrel” said the President quietly. Miguel smiled, as one who receives a compliment. “The matter,” he said, “is too serious for the ordinary rules of decency and honour. Special cases demand special remedies.”
The President wants to hear no more of the matter, but does not forbid Miguel from proceeding. An introduction is arranged, and Lucile rapidly moves from fascination with Savrola to infatuation. Then events rapidly spin out of anybody's control. The rebel forces cross the border; Molara's army is proved unreliable and disloyal; the Fleet, en route to defend the colony, is absent; Savrola raises a popular rebellion in the capital; and open fighting erupts. This is a story of intrigue, adventure, and conflict in the “Ruritanian” genre popularised by the 1894 novel The Prisoner of Zenda. Churchill, building on his experience of war reportage, excels in and was praised for the realism of the battle scenes. The depiction of politicians, functionaries, and soldiers seems to veer back and forth between cynicism and admiration for their efforts in trying to make the best of a bad situation. The characters are cardboard figures and the love interest is clumsily described. Still, this is an entertaining read and provides a window on how the young Churchill viewed the antics of colourful foreigners and their unstable countries, even if Laurania seems to have a strong veneer of Victorian Britain about it. The ultimate message is that history is often driven not by the plans of leaders, whether corrupt or noble, but by events over which they have little control. Churchill never again attempted a novel and thought little of this effort. In his 1930 autobiography covering the years 1874 through 1902 he writes of Savrola, “I have consistently urged my friends to abstain from reading it.” But then, Churchill was not always right—don't let his advice deter you; I enjoyed it. This work is available for free as a Project Gutenberg electronic book in a variety of formats. There are a number of print and Kindle editions of this public domain text; I have cited the least expensive print edition available at the time I wrote this review. I read this Kindle edition, which has a few typographical errors due to having been prepared by optical character recognition (for example, “stem” where “stern” was intended), but is otherwise fine. One factlet I learned while researching this review is that “Winston S. Churchill” is actually a nom de plume. Churchill's full name is Winston Leonard Spencer-Churchill, and he signed his early writings as “Winston Churchill”. Then, he discovered there was a well-known American novelist with the same name. The British Churchill wrote to the American Churchill and suggested using the name “Winston Spencer Churchill” (no hyphen) to distinguish his work. The American agreed, noting that he would also be willing to use a middle name, except that he didn't have one. The British Churchill's publishers abbreviated his name to “Winston S. Churchill”, which he continued to use for the rest of his writing career. - Schantz, Hans G. The Brave and the Bold. Huntsville, AL: ÆtherCzar, 2018. ISBN 978-1-7287-2274-0.
-
This the third novel in the author's Hidden
Truth series. In the first book (December 2017) we
met high schoolers and best friends Pete Burdell and Amit Patel
who found, in dusty library books, knowledge apparently
discovered by the pioneers of classical electromagnetism (many
of whom died young), but which does not figure in modern works,
even purported republications of the original sources they had
consulted. In the second, A Rambling
Wreck (May 2018), Pete and Amit, now freshmen
at Georgia Tech, delve deeper into the suppressed mysteries of
electromagnetism and the secrets of the shadowy group Amit dubbed
the Electromagnetic Villains International League (EVIL), while
simultaneously infiltrating and disrupting forces trying to
implant the social justice agenda in one of the last bastions of
rationality in academia.
The present volume begins in the summer after the pair's
freshman year. Both Pete and Amit are planning, along different
paths, to infiltrate back-to-back meetings of the Civic Circle's
Social Justice Leadership Forum on Jekyll Island, Georgia (the
scene of notable
conspiratorial
skullduggery in the early 20th century) and
the G-8 summit of world leaders on nearby Sea Island. Master of
Game
Amit has maneuvered himself into an internship with the Civic Circle
and an invitation to the Forum as a promising candidate for the
cause. Pete wasn't so fortunate (or persuasive), and used
family connections to land a job with a company contracted to
install computer infrastructure for the Civic Circle
conference. The latest apparent “social justice”
goal was to involve the developed world in a costly and useless
war in Iraq, and Pete and Amit hoped to do what they could to
derail those plans while collecting information on the plotters
from inside.
Working in a loose and uneasy alliance with others they've
encountered in the earlier books, they uncover information which
suggests a bold strike at the very heart of the conspiracy might
be possible, and they set their plans in motion. They learn
that the Civic Circle is even more ancient, pervasive in its
malign influence, and formidable than they had imagined.
This is one of the most intricately crafted conspiracy tales
I've read since the
Illuminatus!
trilogy, yet entirely grounded in real events or plausible ones
in its story line, as opposed to Robert Shea and Robert Anton
Wilson's zany tale. The alternative universe in which it is set
is artfully grounded in our own, and readers will delight in how
events they recall and those with which they may not be familiar
are woven into the story. There is delightful skewering of the
social justice agenda and those who espouse its absurd but
destructive nostrums. The forbidden science aspect of the story
is advanced as well, imaginatively stirring the
de
Broglie-Bohm “pilot wave” interpretation of
quantum mechanics and the history of FM broadcasting into the
mix.
The story builds to a conclusion which is both shocking and
satisfying and confronts the pair with an even greater challenge
for their next adventure. This book continues the Hidden
Truth saga in the best tradition of Golden Age science
fiction and, like the work of the grandmasters of yore, both
entertains and leaves the reader eager to find out what happens
next. You should read the books in order; if you jump in the
middle, you'll miss a great deal of back story and character
development essential to enjoying the adventure.
The Kindle edition is free for Kindle
Unlimited subscribers.