alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
(This is a slight edit of some posts I wrote on Bluesky four months ago, before the confirmation of RFK Jr. It's still relevant so I figured I might as well put it together in one place.)

I'm glad to see Robert Kennedy's bullshit about HIV get some notice; still, when the HIV denialism is brought up, many comments are of the blank stare/"wtf, how is that even a thing" kind. I get it too; vaccines and transgender healthcare are more on people's radar.* But let me tell you about the horrible legacy of the man that Kennedy has called a "heroic healer": Peter Duesberg.



Duesberg, unlike Kennedy, had actual scientific knowledge in one field. And early on in the history of AIDS, scientists pursued all kinds of wild-ass guesses about what might be going on; Duesberg wasn't the only one who thought certain drugs, like poppers, might have a role. But he latched onto that idea early on—with some hedging about how maybe other recreational drugs and other STDs could be involved, all stuff he could ascribe to people's behavior, anything except a new viral pandemic—and did no research, and paid no attention to any progress after that.

Duesberg was immediately, and obviously, a crank and an egomaniac. No legitimate scientist ever behaves the way he did. A non-crank would ask themselves questions like "Does my work on retroviruses related to cancer really make me an expert on immunology?", or "Is it risky for me to tell everyone to ignore HIV?", or "Do I know enough about the people who are dying of AIDS for me to portray them as all wildly promiscuous drug abusers?", or "If my insight is so valuable, maybe I should do some research?" Instead he just kept doing interviews. And even though he did get public pushback, the press was still way too generous in describing him as a contrarian, a rebel, etc.—because that's a cool story. Also, some people latched onto the few sane things he said, like "the world isn't doing enough against malnutrition in Africa," and shut their ears to the rest, not unlike willfully ignorant fans of RFK Jr. now who focus on stuff like "well he's in favor of healthy food and doesn't like Big Pharma" as if those are bold new stances.

Of course, Duesberg himself did nothing to help people in Africa. Really less than nothing—since, like Kennedy, he gained influence over the highest elected official in a country: Thabo Mbeki, whose implementation of his advice in South Africa killed hundreds of thousands of people. Effective anti-HIV drugs were already available by then, far better than before; Duesberg didn't care. He also sadly convinced an actual AIDS activist who had HIV, Christine Maggiore, to forego treatment for herself and her child. Maggiore spent the next 14 years spreading the same gospel, even after her child died of AIDS; she only stopped when she herself died of AIDS, in 2008. Duesberg didn't care. His focus was entirely 1. I am right, 2. everyone is against me. And why was everyone against him? Because, in his view, The Establishment was too deferential to activists and minorities—who were the real causes of their own problems; the right-wing aspect of his views was never far under the surface.

The first time I heard Duesberg actually speak was in 1993 or '94, when, for my job, I had to listen to and transcribe an interview with him. He sounded exactly like what he was; he was even less charismatic than Robert Kennedy, but he knew the right phrases to use to appeal to people who fall for cranks. About seven years after that, I entered into the field of HIV care as a nurse (I'm not one now). Most of my co-workers had been in the field since the early years of total horror, and they could've retired, but they were so happy to be there now at a time when treatment generally worked. And that's why HIV denialism is much less of a thing people are aware of these days: people talk and think a lot less about AIDS in general, because it's not as huge a problem as it was (though, to be clear, it's still a bad problem, not over by any means).

But the cranks don't go away. There's no reason for people like Duesberg or Kennedy, or people who give them credence, to change their views just because they're overwhelmingly discredited. The evidence doesn't matter to them, it never did. It's about the personal legend of the contrarian. Kennedy calls Duesberg a healer not because his work ever had any positive effect on anyone's health, but because he wants to see himself that way, and because there's a great appeal in thinking you can be a hero in a way that involves never having to learn anything ever again. Crankism is incoherent in terms of ideas, but consistent in its ability to bring together people with the same personality flaws, imperviousness to evidence, and ability to dismiss the harm they do. There are many, they haven't gone away in 40 years, and giving Kennedy any governmental authority will bring them all in.
alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
Here's something I bet you've heard about once a week for some time: "Was COVID from a lab? Just asking questions!"

Like most "just asking questions" things, this keeps getting brought up long after the questions have been answered. Sometimes that's because the goal wasn't really to ask questions but to push an agenda. Other times people just don't understand or don't trust the answers, or have followed some of the answers but then stopped updating their knowledge. I don't know which explanation is true for the latest fear-mongering op-ed in the New York Times by Alina Chan—which, like all such pieces, is presented so as to give a false impression that Dr. Chan either speaks for most researchers, or has put together evidence nobody else noticed.

This series of posts by Phillipp Markolin, summarizing a longer article that they link to, is the best I've seen lately about why most researchers don't think there's any real doubt about the COVID-19 virus (SARS-CoV-2) having evolved and spread naturally. It's technical, and Markolin does a decent job of boiling it down some, but I think it's possible to make it a little easier to follow for laypeople—so I'll try to do that here. (Standard disclaimer: my credentials are only that I've read enough about molecular biology in school to understand the gist of what Markolin is saying, and to see that it's consistent with what other scientists are saying, and that Chan's arguments do not take it into account.)
Read more... )
alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
Listening to this well-done episode of the Conspirituality podcast about RFK Jr. and how he's managed to unify New-Age-flavored apocalypticism with nostalgia for an idealized America, I suddenly realized where that kind of thing is so familiar to me from: The X-Files! Specifically the less good parts of the show, usually written by Chris Carter, where:

1. we find out once again that we're utterly screwed because the conspiracy of aliens and federal dudes (and the UN) has been controlling everything for our whole lives, and all kinds of medicine and technology that we take for granted are part of this scheme, and every kind of authority is totally corrupt, and everyone who finds out about any of this will almost immediately get killed;

2. but then Agent Mulder finds some evidence, and at the end of the episode he testifies in a hearing where he goes on and on trying to sound like Kevin Costner in JFK, and unfortunately he can't really show any proof just yet, and they're all against him anyway, but they'll never get around to actually shutting him up or killing him, and ultimately if he can just get The Truth and get the truth Out There, then... I guess the system will work and the villains will be fired or arrested or something, and then it'll be like the good old days before the villains took over, some time in the 1950s or 60s.

I mean, ultimately Mulder is a simple guy who just wants people to be honest and also enjoys finding out about weird monsters, and he has to believe that America basically works because otherwise there's no point in him working for the FBI and testifying in hearings. But the story also requires this massive level of world-crushing evil that can't be reconciled with that at all. Similarly, RFK Jr. will go on about how the vaccine brainwashing conspiracy has almost totally destroyed freedom and poisoned us all... and then he'll say that all we really need to do is elect a guy who's "not afraid to ask questions" etc., and then it'll be like the good old days when America didn't have terrible problems (or at least not the kind of problems that RFK Jr. cares about), some time in the 1950s or 1960s. Is Chris Carter writing his campaign?!

There's a specific Kennedy connection too, because in the X-Files episode where we get the life story of the main villain in the conspiracy, the biggest revelation isn't that he did all this alien coverup stuff—it's that he shot JFK. And it's the most simple-minded version of the assassination legend from a liberal angle, where Kennedy had to be killed not because of the aliens or the Mafia, but because he was supposedly thinking about de-escalating the Vietnam War and the Cold War. (The same villain also shoots Martin Luther King, after explaining that the conspiracy's problem with him isn't actually about civil rights, it's about the Vietnam War. Because what really mattered in US history, in this version of "where did we go wrong", was Vietnam and JFK.)

Of course, since that episode is written by Glen Morgan and not Chris Carter, it's actually enjoyable and more funny than preachy. But it still fits with the show's idealization of the past, which also fits with RFK Jr.'s worshipful treatment of his uncle and his dad as the two guys who would've saved America, if only.
alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
This post is my attempt to make sense of arguments about the Protecting the Right to Organize Act of 2021 (PRO), specifically regarding its effect on freelancers and the self-employed.

I'm not a lawyer—and I'm not an expert on the ins and outs of freelance work, something I have done before but rarely and probably not very well—so I may make mistakes here, and if someone points those out to me in a convincing way, I'll make corrections. The reasons I'm bothering to write about this are 1. PRO is extremely important in my opinion (even if the chances of passing it in the current Congress are slim) for pushing back against decades of anti-labor policies, and 2. I have self-employed friends who are really concerned about this, specifically because they are in California and have been seeing a lot of arguments that PRO will hurt their livelihood due to what they think are similarities to recent California legislation.

If those concerns are valid, then it's correct to call for rethinking of PRO; if they're not, then that is at best a misguided distraction. And at worst, it's a victory for conservative propaganda, since it's pretty obvious that Republican efforts against PRO are counting on arguments like this to defeat the bill if anti-union sentiment isn't enough.

click here for a lot more words on this subject )
alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
I know it's not super worthwhile to pick on a random opinion piece on a genre entertainment magazine site, but there's something about "This Is Not Fiction" (by Charles Pulliam-Moore on io9) that really grinds my gears, and I'd like to think most people don't share this writer's obtuse point of view.

Basically, Pulliam-Moore is trying to make a point about how we should take politics seriously and not use things like Star Wars as metaphors, which... OK, I agree with the first part at least. But he's trying to make it by, among other things, dwelling on how one of Alexandra Petri's humor columns—the one about the Stormtrooper denouncing the bad guys at the very last minute as the Death Star is about to blow up—is "notably uninspired" and is "an attempt at humor masquerading as opinion"(??) and that Petri (or the Washington Post editorial department, since Pulliam-Moore seems to think this is a devious scheme by the Post to sneak "humor" onto a page where no one will recognize it, even though this is Petri's regular gig and she's fairly well known for such pieces) is trying to convince us that, since the Death Star is about to be blown up, the bad guys are defeated forever and all our problems are solved. He harps on this repeatedly and says jokes like this are "smoothing over the ugly realities."

Now, if the author just doesn't approve of humor in general, or thinks humor might be OK but not during a crisis when it's our duty to read nothing but cold hard facts, or doesn't like Petri, or thinks she should have made a more sophisticated joke... whatever. But I've rarely seen a better example of totally missing the point of a joke while attacking it. I can't believe anyone would have to explain this, but the point of that joke absolutely isn't "the bad guys are defeated forever, because that's what happened to the Death Star." That's not even true in the Star Wars movies: the bad guys come back again and again! And in the context of current reality, the point VERY OBVIOUSLY is along the lines of: "Look at the balls on these schmucks, putting out their last-minute denunciations as they flee the sinking ship. Anyone from the administration who says they weren't really a Trumpist at this point, when it's obviously just to cover their asses, should be laughed at and considered just as dirty as the rest of them." And the reason that's a point worth making—either in joke form, or in some other form that this guy would be OK with—is that we're well aware that our problems aren't over, that the rats didn't go down with the ship, and it'd be a really good idea not to just hire them onto other ships after a token affirmation that they meant well. Which is something we've seen happen many times before.

I know Pulliam-Moore understands that point because he makes it too in this very article ("One can't be certain what will become of the countless career politicians who willingly hitched their wagon to Trump's ... few of them will face any real repercussions")—while simultaneously insisting that a satire piece about exactly that same issue is bad because it distracts us from thinking about exactly that same issue. I'm not sure how that's supposed to work unless the idea is that fantasy stories are so stultifying, so inherently an opiate of the people, that they can't possibly convey a real point through satire and metaphor—that the kind of silly people who enjoy such entertainment will just go "Hey, Star Wars, fun!" and ignore the real-life implications. I wouldn't be surprised to see such an argument from some David Brooks-style moral scold with no interest in or understanding of any kind of fiction. But from someone who writes genre entertainment criticism it's more than a bit weird.
alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
After months of politely ignoring the increasingly crankish "What if the pandemic is bogus, I mean I'm not saying it is bogus, I just think The Numbers Don't Add Up and we should Do Our Own Research" type Facebook posts by a neighborhood acquaintance and friend-of-friend, and then commenting a couple times along the lines of "This thing you've linked to doesn't mean what you're saying it means, here's why", and politely disengaging from one brief in-person conversation where they seemed to be sincerely not wanting me to think of them as a conspiracy theory nut... and then seeing it escalate to real Qanon-level stuff (5G microwaves for the New World Order, etc.)... I finally decided to do what a friend had recently mentioned doing in a similar situation:

Don't ignore; don't argue. Tell them that this is wrong and harmful. Tell them that you won't stay in contact as long as they're doing this—just as you wouldn't if someone were proselytizing for a cult that says the Protocols of the Elders of Zion is a real thing. Do this just once, in a public post, and tell other people in your friends or community that you're doing it. And then unfriend.

I realize a lot of people feel that if you do this, you're living in an echo chamber, or denying the person the benefit of your point of view, or that this is "cancel culture" that'll lead to ostracizing anyone who ever said a dumb thing, etc... but, no. First, this is not a person I know well enough to engage with lovingly; I have no idea what their issues are; and they have not been responsive to reason at all. But also: I've had enough years of pre-Internet life that I don't take social media for granted, I see it as a continuation of ways that I interacted before, like "making chit-chat with someone at a party" or, less often, "reading someone's personal newsletter that they like to send out sometimes, with pictures of their cats." And I managed to get through all those years without thinking it was my duty to chat with, or debate, or read the personal newsletter of, any of my acquaintances—let alone one whose newsletter was full of offensive and toxic material. And that didn't mean I didn't know they existed, it meant I wasn't going to pretend I was OK with them and that they should have my ear, if I wasn't and they shouldn't.

I'm tentatively encouraging others to consider doing the same. If someone like this does value knowing you at all, but they're only listening to their fellow cultists, and you're not a close enough friend to really intervene... let them know that they can't have their cake and eat it too, that if they insist on actively making the world a worse and more dangerous place, you won't pretend they're just a nice person with some funny opinions. And they can choose whether knowing only cultists is really what they want. I think most people don't want that, and might actually notice if they're getting a lot of firm and well-wishing goodbyes-with-explanations, rather than just silent unfollowing.

Maybe.

I don't know to what extent I would apply this to people with more mundane but still harmful beliefs, things that are more like what we think of as "political". Right now I don't happen to personally know anyone who is strongly right-wing (and no, that does not mean I live in a bubble and have no idea what other people think; I grew up in Pennsylvania, and I read) so that's not something I've been dealing with. Everyone has their own line in the sand; you just have to acknowledge that there is one for you. If you wouldn't stay friends, even Facebook friends, with a literal Nazi—and you wouldn't think that such a connection was somehow beneficial to either you or them—then you have a line. Whether that's defined by the degree of harm, or what others would think of you, or whatever... you do get to draw that line.

It's never been the case that good people would hang out with absolutely everyone and be friendly to everyone and calmly debate their beliefs no matter what; no one lives that way. We've just briefly had the illusion that social media might be like that. And it's an illusion that's loudly promoted in bad faith by the kind of online people who like to do the "If you won't treat me with my due respect, that means you don't want to hear any differing opinions!" thing—because they understand that well-meaning people don't want to be closed-minded and don't want to be hypocrites, and that that's a fear that can be weaponized.

The person I just unfriended isn't one of those malicious types, I don't think they're arguing in bad faith, but they're relying on people having that fear: we don't want to think we're the kind of people who live in our own world and don't listen and will drive people away. Well... maybe it is reasonable to ask them to face the same fear. If they've embraced a closed system of belief, one that can harm others, and they don't listen, then they will drive people away—and it's best that they know when that happens, and exactly why. That's an honest and valid social act. If people just quietly drift away, with a couple of them sticking around just enough to offer the kind of well-meaning arguments that they already know how to ignore, then it's easier for them to live in their own world without realizing it.

Maybe.
alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
The Wall, stage performance by Music for the Apocalypse and guests - seen on 11/16/19 at The Chapel, San Francisco
The Wall, Pink Floyd (1979)

For me and a lot of people born within about 10 years of me, The Wall was an important piece of culture in ways that weren't necessarily about our taste in music—a fact that tended to annoy older Floyd fans, who weren't shy about reminding us that the earlier albums were cooler. It wasn't exactly due to the story; despite not exactly having a plot in the sense that "rock opera" might imply, it does paint a somewhat specific picture of a guy who is born in the 1940s, grows up fatherless due to World War Two, is emotionally stifled by his mother and verbally abused in an archetypal English boarding school, becomes a massively famous rock star resulting in rock-star ennui, loses his marriage due to mutual infidelity, has a dramatic breakdown in a hotel room while on tour, is propped up with drugs by his manager, and gets so freaked out by the adoration of his fans that he imagines himself leading them on a fascist rampage... and I for one couldn't honestly identify with any of that. But the emotional arc of it—a creeping feeling that you've been going wrong step by step for your whole life and are at risk of never being able to relate to people in any healthy way, for reasons that are partly individual and partly a symptom of the world at large—unfortunately was very relatable. The music definitely helped: it's all over the place, from quiet loveliness to grating discomfort to plain old pop energy, and Roger Waters is a pretty expressive singer who clearly had strong feelings about this material even if he wasn't exactly on the same page as the rest of the band. Once you know how much of a mess the production of this thing was, it's easy to see the messiness of the end result as the kind of partial failure that can happen in any group creative effort—but for a young and confused listener, I think the way it fails to quite fit together actually makes it more compelling: that is, I could tell that whatever this was, it clearly wasn't the way albums are supposed to be (even weird prog-rock albums), it didn't even have the kind of consistent focused unpleasantness that other kinds of angry-young-man music had, and that was part of the feeling I was connecting with.(*)

I was a little apprehensive last week about the prospect of seeing a new "tribute to The Wall" performance with a cover band and some kind of new topical stage show, described like so: Read more... )
alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
I'm not planning to write a lot of reviews of this show [update: I eventually wrote about the whole thing here], but the first episode (and the background text pieces for it) made me think about what it's trying to do, and what I'd like it to do, and how it relates to the comic that was pretty much my favorite thing in the whole world 33 years ago.

First, I think this is really interesting so far. I don't know if what I think they're up to is what they are really up to, and it could still go bad in so many ways. But I do think that if it is a good idea to do any kind of Watchmen follow-up at all(*), then this is the right approach in general: set it in the present day; treat all of the outlandish events of the original series as history; try to create an alternate 2019 that has a similar relationship to our world as Alan Moore's 1985 did to our world then, rather than imitating the style of Moore's 1985; and don't worry about trying to say anything about comic books per se, but do say something about power and fear.

(* I realize that "should this even exist" is a whole other can of worms. Moore is absolutely justified in resenting DC's behavior regarding the Watchmen rights among other things; any project like this is at least partly the fruit of a poison tree, although Dave Gibbons's involvement helps a bit. I'm going to just try to look at this as if I didn't know about any of that, for now.)
Read more... )
alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
This interview with anti-neo-Nazi counselor Christian Picciolini, on his own past experience of joining a white-supremacist group and his view of what's going on with them today, is optimistic in terms of the plain fact of this guy existing and doing the work that he does, but he's pretty clear on how horrible the situation is.

It struck me especially because of the time frame: he went Nazi about 30 years ago. That's pretty much when I first became aware of these subcultures. I had been pretty sheltered with only a general understanding of racist violence, but when I was 15 or 16 my parents were doing a lot of (pre-Internet) research for a play about a small-town guy watching his lost friend drift into the Klan. In the setting of the play, this is related to a labor dispute and the bosses are egging on the racists as a means to an end—which is historically based, and is still the entirety of how some strictly class-oriented leftists view racism—but the Klan recruiter character is more of a true believer, and he has a speech toward the end about how the future of the movement is in the kind of paramilitary groups that had been gaining ground in the '80s. And I was a morbid kid so I got into reading all about these creeps. Even though they'd been in the news a bit, like with the murder of Alan Berg, they were generally seen as a fringe curiosity specifically because they weren't tied to a huge established group like the Klan, and it didn't seem likely that random suburban white kids would find them very compelling. A few journalists kept saying "No I think we should take this pretty seriously," and James Ridgeway's book Blood in the Face got some press in 1990, and you started to hear more about "militias" but usually in an overly cautious way that was reluctant to suggest that the militias weren't just clubs of paranoid doofuses but were terrorist incubators. Then Oklahoma City happened and some people were still in denial. I had a lot of creeping dread, especially after the Idaho militias got a seat in Congress, but I still didn't understand how the Web was going to amplify everything... and never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd see their open sympathizers in the White House.

I can't imagine how a guy like Picciolini could witness all that, through those years, and not have his head be exploding every day. Focusing on individuals, I guess. As a former nurse with no ability to make people stop getting sick, I guess I can understand that.
alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
It may not exactly be news when The New Republic publishes some hideous bigoted bullshit, but I have to say I was a little surprised that they pulled Dale Peck from the back bench of bitter hatchet-job artists to write a piece about how Pete Buttigieg is the wrong kind of gay (which they've since removed from their site after nearly everyone said "WTF"). This really takes me back.
Read more... )
alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
So apparently someone leaked a lot of Republican National Committee internal documents containing their opinions of various people Trump was thinking about hiring in 2017 (and, in most cases, did hire).

There are certainly a few issues there and it's hard to say who comes off looking the worst.

Anyway: the White House response discussed how Trump has allegedly been very successful in various ways... and it ended by saying that "no disgruntled, establishment, D.C. swamp creature's cowardly leaks can change that."

I don't know, the DC swamp creature has had a lot of responsibilities so you could say he's the establishment, and he's definitely gone through a lot of changes so you never know what he might do next, but this just doesn't seem like his style.
alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
Charles Pierce, writing about one historical precedent for the US's current crimes against migrants, quotes these priceless words:

It is impossible not to see that, however blameless we may be in the matter, we shall not be able to make anybody think so, and I cannot avoid an uncomfortable feeling that there must be some way to make the thing a little less awfully bad if one could only think of it.

That's Lord Milner, circa 1903, privately discussing the unfortunate issue of concentration camps in the Second Boer War.

The depressingly hilarious image of someone in a position of high authority pretending we not only can't do anything but can't even think of what could be done, and insisting that of course it's not even our fault, is of course timeless. But the passage that Pierce quoted omits some context that makes Milner look even worse.
Read more... )
alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
A complaint about the Internet that I see a lot is "You get into a bubble, because you only see the content you've selected, and you only hear from people like yourself. That's how people get so polarized and misinformed." That always sounds plausible to me, until I remember:

Pre-Internet, I used to read a lot of magazines. Rather than randomly picking them off the rack, I usually chose which ones I wanted to read. If they had political content, I picked the ones that were more on my wavelength, not the ones I thought were stupid or evil. (I know some people made a point of reading all kinds of bullshit publications just to have a well-rounded sense of what's out there, but I wasn't one of them, and I think I was the more typical case.) And I was aware that I did not know all about the world just from reading those things; if I wanted to get the full details on things that happened, I would look for a newspaper or an encyclopedia.

Also, when I hung out with people or talked with them on the phone, they were more likely to be friends of mine—rather than enemies, or total strangers in other parts of the country. If a friend of mine started spewing offensive crap, or insisting that I debate them all the time, I probably would end up not talking to them. And I was aware that I did not know everything about what people think just from listening to my friends and acquaintances; if I wanted to know how much support was out there for a politician or whatever, I would look for an opinion poll.

I just don't feel like there was some magic time when people had much broader perspective that they don't now. The pace has definitely changed—it's far easier to get things like conspiracy theories going, just because it's easier to communicate. But being able to read things from my friends list is not the problem.

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