• never work in this biz again

    From feewilly@1:229/2 to All on Thursday, August 16, 2018 10:31:13
    From: allreadydun@gmail.com

    Trump Says White House No Place for Lying Lowlife from Reality Show


    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ym9vm3jvLsQ


    how's that next job workin' for ya Armarosa ?

    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)
  • From feewilly@1:229/2 to All on Thursday, August 16, 2018 20:47:58
    From: allreadydun@gmail.com

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FvgRlddh4w8

    the jury sos their verdict. reasonable doubt.

    free will and free choice sez we have doubts.

    case is over. nice try.

    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)
  • From feewilly@1:229/2 to All on Friday, August 17, 2018 07:47:25
    From: allreadydun@gmail.com

    place your bets, does manafort walk or
    does he get convicted?

    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)
  • From Jeremy H. Denisovan@1:229/2 to All on Saturday, August 18, 2018 18:06:28
    From: david.j.worrell@gmail.com

    Bigger fish to fry...

    August 16, 2018

    STATEMENT FROM FORMER SENIOR INTELLIGENCE OFFICIALS

    As former senior intelligence officials, we feel compelled to respond in the wake of the ill-considered and unprecedented remarks and actions by the White House regarding the removal of John Brennan’s security clearances. We know John to be an
    enormously talented, capable, and patriotic individual who devoted his adult life to the service of this nation. Insinuations and allegations of wrongdoing on the part of Brennan while in office are baseless. Since leaving government service John has
    chosen to speak out sharply regarding what he sees as threats to our national security. Some of the undersigned have done so as well. Others among us have elected to take a different course and be more circumspect in our public pronouncements. Regardless,
    we all agree that the president’s action regarding John Brennan and the threats of similar action against other former officials has nothing to do with
    who should and should not hold security clearances – and everything to do with an attempt to
    stifle free speech. You don’t have to agree with what John Brennan says (and,
    again, not all of us do) to agree with his right to say it, subject to his obligation to protect classified information. We have never before seen the approval or removal of
    security clearances used as a political tool, as was done in this case. Beyond that, this action is quite clearly a signal to other former and current officials. As individuals who have cherished and helped preserve the right of Americans to free speech
    even when that right has been used to criticize us – that signal is inappropriate and deeply regrettable. Decisions on security clearances should be based on national security concerns and not political views.

    William H. Webster, former Director of Central Intelligence (1987-1991)

    George J. Tenet, former Director of Central Intelligence (1997-2004)

    Porter J. Goss, former Director of Central Intelligence, (2005-2006)

    General Michael V. Hayden, USAF, Ret., former Director of the Central Intelligence Agency (2006-2009)

    Leon E. Panetta, former Director of the Central Intelligence Agency (2009-2011)

    General David H. Petraeus, USA, Ret., former Director of the Central Intelligence Agency (2011-2012)

    James R. Clapper, former Director of National Intelligence (2010-2017)

    John E. McLaughlin, former Deputy Director of Central Intelligence (2000-2004)

    Stephen R. Kappes, former Deputy Director of the Central Intelligence Agency (2006-2010)

    Michael J. Morell, former Deputy Director of the Central Intelligence Agency (2010-2013)

    Avril Haines, former Deputy Director of the Central Intelligence Agency (2013-2015)

    David S. Cohen, former Deputy Director of the Central Intelligence Agency (2015-2017)

    ***

    This is some seriously fucked up fucking shit.
    On a lighter note, below is my own latest tweet to 'Agent Orange':

    Donald J. Trump
    @realDonaldTrump
    The local politicians who run Washington, D.C. (poorly) know a windfall
    when they see it. When asked to give us a price for holding a great
    celebratory military parade, they wanted a number so ridiculously high
    that I cancelled it. Never let someone hold you up!

    Arne Saknussen
    @ArSaknussen
    Replying to @realDonaldTrump
    Don't worry sir, we'll all hold a great celebratory parade
    when you're thrown out of the White House! Believe me!

    .

    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)
  • From Jeremy H. Denisovan@1:229/2 to All on Tuesday, August 21, 2018 10:58:36
    From: david.j.worrell@gmail.com

    The Guardian
    (The long read)

    Denialism: what drives people to reject the truth

    From vaccines to climate change to genocide, a new age of denialism is upon us.
    Why have we failed to understand it?

    By Keith Kahn-Harris
    Fri 3 Aug 2018

    http://tinyurl.com/ybpn4qqx

    PART 1

    We are all in denial, some of the time at least. Part of being human, and living in a society with other humans, is finding clever ways to express – and conceal – our feelings. From the most sophisticated diplomatic language to the baldest lie,
    humans find ways to deceive. Deceptions are not necessarily malign; at some level they are vital if humans are to live together with civility. As Richard Sennett has argued: “In practising social civility, you keep silent about things you know clearly
    but which you should not and do not say.”

    Just as we can suppress some aspects of ourselves in our self-presentation to others, so we can do the same to ourselves in acknowledging or not acknowledging what we desire. Most of the time, we spare ourselves from the torture of recognising our baser
    yearnings. But when does this necessary private self-deception become harmful? When it becomes public dogma. In other words: when it becomes denialism.

    Denialism is an expansion, an intensification, of denial. At root, denial and denialism are simply a subset of the many ways humans have developed to use language to deceive others and themselves. Denial can be as simple as refusing to accept that
    someone else is speaking truthfully. Denial can be as unfathomable as the multiple ways we avoid acknowledging our weaknesses and secret desires.

    Denialism is more than just another manifestation of the humdrum intricacies of
    our deceptions and self-deceptions. It represents the transformation of the everyday practice of denial into a whole new way of seeing the world and – most important – a
    collective accomplishment. Denial is furtive and routine; denialism is combative and extraordinary. Denial hides from the truth, denialism builds a new and better truth.

    In recent years, the term has been used to describe a number of fields of “scholarship”, whose scholars engage in audacious projects to hold back, against seemingly insurmountable odds, the findings of an avalanche of research. They argue that the
    Holocaust (and other genocides) never happened, that anthropogenic (human-caused) climate change is a myth, that Aids either does not exist or is unrelated to HIV, that evolution is a scientific impossibility, and that all manner of other scientific and
    historical orthodoxies must be rejected.

    In some ways, denialism is a terrible term. No one calls themselves a “denialist”, and no one signs up to all forms of denialism. In fact, denialism is founded on the assertion that it is not denialism. In the wake of Freud (or at least the
    vulgarisation of Freud), no one wants to be accused of being “in denial”, and labelling people denialists seems to compound the insult by implying that they have taken the private sickness of denial and turned it into public dogma.

    But denial and denialism are closely linked; what humans do on a large scale is
    rooted in what we do on a small scale. While everyday denial can be harmful, it
    is also just a mundane way for humans to respond to the incredibly difficult challenge of
    living in a social world in which people lie, make mistakes and have desires that cannot be openly acknowledged. Denialism is rooted in human tendencies that are neither freakish nor pathological.

    All that said, there is no doubt that denialism is dangerous. In some cases, we
    can point to concrete examples of denialism causing actual harm. In South Africa, President Thabo Mbeki, in office between 1999 and 2008, was influenced by Aids denialists
    such as Peter Duesberg, who deny the link between HIV and Aids (or even HIV’s
    existence) and cast doubt on the effectiveness of anti-retroviral drugs. Mbeki’s reluctance to implement national treatment programmes using anti-retrovirals has been
    estimated to have cost the lives of 330,000 people. On a smaller scale, in early 2017 the Somali-American community in Minnesota was struck by a childhood
    measles outbreak, as a direct result of proponents of the discredited theory that the MMR vaccine
    causes autism, persuading parents not to vaccinate their children.

    More commonly though, denialism’s effects are less direct but more insidious.
    Climate change denialists have not managed to overturn the general scientific consensus that it is occurring and caused by human activity. What they have managed to do is
    provide subtle and not-so-subtle support for those opposed to taking radical action to address this urgent problem. Achieving a global agreement that could underpin a transition to a post-carbon economy, and that would be capable of slowing the
    temperature increase, was always going to be an enormous challenge. Climate change denialism has helped to make the challenge even harder.

    Denialism can also create an environment of hate and suspicion. Forms of genocide denialism are not just attempts to overthrow irrefutable historical facts; they are an assault on those who survive genocide, and their descendants. The implacable
    denialism that has led the Turkish state to refuse to admit that the 1917 Armenian genocide occurred is also an attack on today’s Armenians, and on any
    other minority that would dare to raise troubling questions about the status of
    minorities in Turkey.
    Similarly, those who deny the Holocaust are not trying to disinterestedly “correct” the historical record; they are, with varying degrees of subtlety, trying to show that Jews are pathological liars and fundamentally dangerous, as well as to
    rehabilitate the reputation of the Nazis.

    The dangers that other forms of denialism pose may be less concrete, but they are no less serious. Denial of evolution, for example, does not have an immediately hateful payoff; rather it works to foster a distrust in science and
    research that feeds into
    other denialisms and undermines evidence-based policymaking. Even lunatic-fringe denialisms, such as flat Earth theories, while hard to take seriously, help to create an environment in which real scholarship and political attempts to engage with reality,
    break down in favour of an all-encompassing suspicion that nothing is what it seems.

    Denialism has moved from the fringes to the centre of public discourse, helped in part by new technology. As information becomes freer to access online, as “research” has been opened to anyone with a web browser, as previously marginal voices climb
    on to the online soapbox, so the opportunities for countering accepted truths multiply. No one can be entirely ostracised, marginalised and dismissed as a crank anymore.

    The sheer profusion of voices, the plurality of opinions, the cacophony of the controversy, are enough to make anyone doubt what they should believe.

    So how do you fight denialism? Denialism offers a dystopian vision of a world unmoored, in which nothing can be taken for granted and no one can be trusted. If you believe that you are being constantly lied to, paradoxically you may be in danger of
    accepting the untruths of others. Denialism is a mix of corrosive doubt and corrosive credulity.

    It’s perfectly understandable that denialism sparks anger and outrage, particularly in those who are directly challenged by it. If you are a Holocaust
    survivor, a historian, a climate scientist, a resident of a flood-plain, a geologist, an Aids
    researcher or someone whose child caught a preventable disease from an unvaccinated child, denialism can feel like an assault on your life’s work, your core beliefs or even your life itself. Such people do fight back. This can
    include, in some
    countries, supporting laws against denialism, as in France’s prohibition of Holocaust denial. Attempts to teach “creation science” alongside evolution in US schools are fought with tenacity. Denialists are routinely excluded from scholarly journals
    and academic conferences.

    The most common response to denialism, though, is debunking. Just as denialists
    produce a large and ever-growing body of books, articles, websites, lectures and videos, so their detractors respond with a literature of their own. Denialist claims are
    refuted point by point, in a spiralling contest in which no argument – however ludicrous – is ever left unchallenged. Some debunkings are endlessly patient and civil, treating denialists and their claims seriously and even respectfully; others are
    angry and contemptuous.

    Yet none of these strategies work, at least not completely. Take the libel case
    that the Holocaust denier David Irving brought against Deborah Lipstadt in 1996. Irving’s claim that accusing him of being a Holocaust denier and a falsifier of history was
    libellous were forensically demolished by Richard Evans and other eminent historians. The judgment was devastating to Irving’s reputation and unambiguous in its rejection of his claim to be a legitimate historian. The judgment bankrupted him, he was
    repudiated by the few remaining mainstream historians who had supported him, and in 2006 he was imprisoned in Austria for Holocaust denial.

    But Irving today? He is still writing and lecturing, albeit in a more covert fashion. He still makes similar claims and his defenders see him as a heroic figure who survived the attempts of the Jewish-led establishment to silence him. Nothing really
    changed. Holocaust denial is still around, and its proponents find new followers. In legal and scholarly terms, Lipstadt won an absolute victory, but she didn’t beat Holocaust denial or even Irving in the long term.

    There is a salutary lesson here: in democratic societies at least, denialism cannot be beaten legally, or through debunking, or through attempts to discredit its proponents. That’s because, for denialists, the existence of denialism is itself a triumph.
    Central to denialism is an argument that “the truth” has been suppressed by its enemies. To continue to exist is a heroic act, a victory for the forces of truth.

    Of course, denialists might yearn for a more complete victory – when theories
    of anthropogenic climate change will be marginalised in academia and politics, when the story of how the Jews hoaxed the world will be in every history book – but, for now,
    every day that denialism persists is a good day. In fact, denialism can achieve
    more modest triumphs even without total victory. For the denialist, every day barrels of oil continue to be extracted and burned is a good day, every day a parent doesn’t
    vaccinate their child is a good day, every day a teenager Googling the Holocaust finds out that some people think it never happened is a good day.

    Conversely, denialism’s opponents rarely have time on their side. As climate change rushes towards the point of no return, as Holocaust survivors die and can no longer give testimony, as once-vanquished diseases threaten pandemics, as the notion that
    there is “doubt” on settled scholarship becomes unremarkable, so the task facing the debunkers becomes both more urgent and more difficult. It’s understandable that panic can set in and that anger overwhelms some of those who battle against
    denialism.

    A better approach to denialism is one of self-criticism. The starting point is a frank question: why did we fail? Why have those of us who abhor denialism not
    succeeded in halting its onward march? And why have we as a species managed to turn our
    everyday capacity to deny into an organised attempt to undermine our collective
    ability to understand the world and change it for the better?

    These questions are beginning to be asked in some circles. They are often the result of a kind of despair. Campaigners against anthropogenic global warming often lament that, as the task becomes ever more urgent, so denialism continues
    to run rampant (
    along with apathy and “softer” forms of denial). It appears that nothing works in the campaign to make humanity aware of the threat it faces.

    The obstinacy with which people can stick to disproved notions is attested to in the social sciences and in neuroscientific research. Humans are not only reasoning beings who disinterestedly weigh evidence and arguments. But there is
    a difference between
    the pre-conscious search for confirmation of existing views – we all engage in that to some extent – and the deliberate attempt to dress this search up as a quest for truth, as denialists do. Denialism adds extra layers of reinforcement and defence
    around widely shared psychological practices with the (never articulated) aim of preventing their exposure. This certainly makes changing the minds of denialists even more difficult than changing the minds of the rest of stubborn humanity.

    There are multiple kinds of denialists: from those who are sceptical of all established knowledge, to those who challenge one type of knowledge; from those
    who actively contribute to the creation of denialist scholarship, to those who quietly consume it;
    from those who burn with certainty, to those who are privately sceptical about their scepticism. What they all have in common, I would argue, is a particular type of desire. This desire – for something not to be true – is the driver of denialism.

    .

    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)
  • From Jeremy H. Denisovan@1:229/2 to All on Tuesday, August 21, 2018 11:04:23
    From: david.j.worrell@gmail.com

    PART II

    Empathy with denialists is not easy, but it is essential. Denialism is not stupidity, or ignorance, or mendacity, or psychological pathology. Nor is it the same as lying. Of course, denialists can be stupid, ignorant liars, but so can any of us. But
    denialists are people in a desperate predicament.

    It is a very modern predicament. Denialism is a post‑enlightenment phenomenon, a reaction to the “inconvenience” of many of the findings of modern scholarship. The discovery of evolution, for example, is inconvenient to
    those committed to a
    literalist biblical account of creation. Denialism is also a reaction to the inconvenience of the moral consensus that emerged in the post-enlightenment world. In the ancient world, you could erect a monument proudly proclaiming the
    genocide you
    committed to the world. In the modern world, mass killing, mass starvation, mass environmental catastrophe can no longer be publicly legitimated.

    Yet many humans still want to do the same things humans always did. We are still desiring beings. We want to murder, to steal, to destroy and to despoil. We want to preserve our ignorance and unquestioned faith. So when our desires are rendered
    unspeakable in the modern world, we are forced to pretend that we do not yearn for things we desire.

    Denial is not enough here. As an attempt to draw awareness and attention away from something unpalatable, it is always vulnerable to challenge. Denial is a kind of high-wire act that can be unbalanced by forceful attempts to draw attention to what is
    being denied.

    Denialism is, in part, a response to the vulnerability of denial. To be in denial is to know at some level. To be a denialist is to never have to know at all. Denialism is a systematic attempt to prevent challenge and acknowledgment;
    to suggest that
    there is nothing to acknowledge. Whereas denial is at least subject to the possibility of confrontation with reality, denialism can rarely be undermined by appeals to face the truth.

    The tragedy for denialists is that they concede the argument in advance. Holocaust deniers’ attempts to deny that the Holocaust took place imply that it would not have been a good thing if it had. Climate change denialism is predicated on a similarly
    hidden acknowledgment that, if anthropogenic climate change were actually occurring, we would have to do something about it.

    Denialism is therefore not just hard work – finding ways to discredit mountains of evidence is a tremendous labour – but also involves suppressing the expression of one’s desires. Denialists are “trapped” into byzantine modes of argument
    because they have few other options in pursuing their goals.

    Denialism, and related phenomena, are often portrayed as a “war on science”. This is an understandable but profound misunderstanding. Certainly,
    denialism and other forms of pseudo-scholarship do not follow mainstream scientific methodologies.
    Denialism does indeed represent a perversion of the scholarly method, and the science it produces rests on profoundly erroneous assumptions, but denialism does all this in the name of science and scholarship. Denialism aims to replace
    one kind of science
    with another – it does not aim to replace science itself. In fact, denialism constitutes a tribute to the prestige of science and scholarship in the modern world. Denialists are desperate for the public validation that science affords.

    While denialism has sometimes been seen as part of a post-modern assault on truth, the denialist is just as invested in notions of scientific objectivity as the most unreconstructed positivist. Even those who are genuinely committed to alternatives to
    western rationality and science can wield denialist rhetoric that apes precisely the kind of scientism they despise. Anti-vaxxers, for example, sometimes seem to want to have their cake and eat it: to have their critique of
    western medicine validated by
    western medicine.

    The rhetoric of denialism and its critics can resemble each other in a kind of war to the death over who gets to wear the mantle of science. The term “junk science” has been applied to climate change denialism, as well as in defence of it. Mainstream
    science can also be dogmatic and blind to its own limitations. If the accusation that global warming is an example of politicised ideology masked as science is met with indignant assertions of the absolute objectivity of “real” science, there is a
    risk of blinding oneself to uncomfortable questions regarding the subtle and not-so-subtle ways in which the idea of pure truth, untrammelled by human interests, is elusive. Human interests can rarely if ever be separated from the
    ways we observe the
    world. Indeed, sociologists of science have shown how modern ideas of disinterested scientific knowledge have disguised the inextricable links between knowledge and human interests.

    I do not believe that, if only one could find the key to “make them understand”, denialists would think just like me. A global warming denialist is not an environmentalist who cannot accept that he or she is really an environmentalist; a Holocaust
    denier is not someone who cannot face the inescapable obligation to commemorate
    the Holocaust; an Aids denialist is not an Aids activist who won’t acknowledge the necessity for western medicine in combating the disease; and so
    on. If denialists were to
    stop denying, we cannot assume that we would then have a shared moral foundation on which we could make progress as a species.

    Denialism is not a barrier to acknowledging a common moral foundation; it is a barrier to acknowledging moral differences. An end to denialism is therefore a disturbing prospect, as it would involve these moral differences revealing themselves directly.
    But we need to start preparing for that eventuality, because denialism is starting to break down – and not in a good way.

    On 6 November 2012, when he was already preparing the ground for his presidential run, Donald Trump sent a tweet about climate change. It said: “The concept of global warming was created by and for the Chinese in order to
    make U.S. manufacturing non-
    competitive.”

    At the time, this seemed to be just another example of the mainstreaming of climate change denialism on the American right. After all, the second Bush administration had done as little as possible to combat climate change, and many leading Republicans
    are prominent crusaders against mainstream climate science. Yet something else was happening here, too; the tweet was a harbinger of a new kind of post-denialist discourse.

    Trump’s claim is not one that is regularly made by “mainstream” global warming denialists. It may have been a garbled version of the common argument on the US right that global climate treaties will unfairly weaken the US economy to the benefit of
    China. Like much of Trump’s discourse, the tweet was simply thrown into the world without much thought. This is not how denialism usually works. Denialists
    usually labour for decades to produce, often against overwhelming odds, carefully crafted
    simulacra of scholarship that, to non-experts at least, are indistinguishable from the real thing. They have refined alternative scholarly techniques that can cast doubt on even the most solid of truths.

    Trump and the post-truthers’ “lazy” denialism rests on the security that comes from knowing that generations of denialists have created enough doubt already; all people like Trump need to do is to signal vaguely in a denialist direction. Whereas
    denialism explains – at great length – post-denialism asserts. Whereas denialism is painstakingly thought-through, post-denialism is instinctive. Whereas denialism is disciplined, post-denialism is anarchic.

    The internet has been an important factor in this weakening of denialist self-discipline. The intemperance of the online world is pushing denialism so far that it is beginning to fall apart. The new generation of denialists aren’t creating new,
    alternative orthodoxies so much as obliterating the very idea of orthodoxy itself. The collective, institutional work of building a substantial bulwark against scholarly consensus gives way to a kind of free-for-all.

    One example of this is the 9/11 truth movement. Because the attacks occurred in
    an already wired world, the denialism it spawned has never managed to institutionalise and develop an orthodoxy in the way that pre-internet denialisms did. Those who believe
    that the “official story” of the September 11 attacks was a lie can believe
    that elements in the US government had foreknowledge of the attacks but let them happen, or that the attacks were deliberately planned and carried out by the government, or
    that Jews/Israel/Mossad were behind it, or that shadowy forces in the “New World Order” were behind it – or some cocktail of all of these. They can believe that the towers were brought down by controlled demolition, or that no planes hit the towers,
    or that there were no floors in the towers, or that there were no passengers in the planes.

    Post-denialism represents a freeing of the repressed desires that drive denialism. While it still based on the denial of an established truth, its methods liberate a deeper kind of desire: to remake truth itself, to remake the
    world, to unleash the power
    to reorder reality itself and stamp one’s mark on the planet. What matters in
    post-denialism is not the establishment of an alternative scholarly credibility, so much as giving yourself blanket permission to see the world however you like.

    While post-denialism has not yet supplanted its predecessor, old-style denialism is beginning to be questioned by some of its practitioners as they take tentative steps towards a new age. This is particularly evident on the racist far right, where the
    dominance of Holocaust denial is beginning to erode.

    Mark Weber, director of the (denialist) Institute for Historical Review, glumly
    concluded in an article in 2009 that Holocaust denial had become irrelevant in a world that continues to memorialise the genocide. Some Holocaust deniers have
    even recanted,
    expressing their frustration with the movement and acknowledging that many of its claims are simply untenable, as Eric Hunt, previously a producer of widely circulated online videos denying the Holocaust, did in 2016. Yet such admissions of defeat are
    certainly not accompanied by a retreat from antisemitism. Weber treats the failures of Holocaust denial as a consequence of the nefarious power of the Jews: “Suppose The New York Times were to report tomorrow that Israel’s Yad
    Vashem Holocaust centre
    and the US Holocaust Memorial Museum had announced that no more than 1 million Jews died during the second world war, and that no Jews were killed in gas chambers at Auschwitz. The impact on Jewish-Zionist power would surely be minimal.”

    Those who were previously “forced” into Holocaust denial are starting to sense that it may be possible to publicly celebrate genocide once again, to revel in antisemitism’s finest hour. The heightened scrutiny of far-right movements in the last
    couple of years has unearthed statements that might once have remained unspoken, or only spoken behind closed doors. In August 2017, for example, one KKK leader told a journalist: “We killed 6 million Jews the last time. Eleven
    million [immigrants] is
    nothing.” A piece published by the Daily Stormer in advance of the white nationalist rally in Charlottesville that same month ended: “Next stop: Charlottesville, VA. Final stop: Auschwitz.”

    Indeed, the Daily Stormer, one of the most prominent online publications of the
    resurgent far-right, demonstrates an exuberant agility in balancing denialism, post-denialism and open hatred simultaneously, using humour as a method of floating between
    them all. But there is no doubt what the ultimate destination is. As Andrew Anglin, who runs the site, put it in a style guide for contributors that was later leaked to the press: “The unindoctrinated should not be able to tell if
    we are joking or not.
    There should also be a conscious awareness of mocking stereotypes of hateful racists. I usually think of this as self-deprecating humour – I am a racist making fun of stereotypes of racists, because I don’t take myself super-seriously. This is
    obviously a ploy and I actually do want to gas kikes. But that’s neither here
    nor there.”

    Not all denialists are taking these steps towards open acknowledgment of their desires. In some fields, the commitment to repressing desire remains strong. We
    are not yet at a stage when a climate change denier can come out and say, proudly, “
    Bangladesh will be submerged, millions will suffer as a result of anthropogenic
    climate change, but we must still preserve our carbon-based way of life, no matter what the cost.” Nor are anti-vaxxers ready to argue that, even though vaccines do not
    cause autism, the death of children from preventable diseases is a regrettable necessity if we are to be released from the clutches of Big Pharma.

    Still, over time it is likely that traditional denialists will be increasingly influenced by the emerging post-denialist milieu. After all, what oil industry-funded wonk labouring to put together a policy paper suggesting that polar bear populations aren
    t declining hasn’t fantasised of resorting to gleeful, Trumpian assertions?

    The possibility of an epochal shift away from denialism means that there is now
    no avoiding a reckoning with some discomfiting issues: how do we respond to people who have radically different desires and morals from our own? How do we respond to people
    who delight in or are indifferent to genocide, to the suffering of millions, to
    venality and greed?

    Denialism, and the multitude of other ways that modern humans have obfuscated their desires, prevent a true reckoning with the unsettling fact that some of us might desire things that most of us regard as morally reprehensible. I say “might” because
    while denialism is an attempt to covertly legitimise an unspeakable desire, the
    nature of the denialist’s understanding of the consequences of enacting that desire is usually unknowable.


    [continued in next message]

    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)
  • From Jeremy H. Denisovan@1:229/2 to All on Tuesday, August 21, 2018 11:10:57
    From: david.j.worrell@gmail.com

    How climate scepticism turned into something more dangerous

    Doubts about the science are being replaced by doubts about the motives of scientists and their political supporters. Once this kind of cynicism takes hold, is there any hope for the truth?

    By David Runciman

    http://tinyurl.com/yd9cc5eu

    PART I

    Last month Donald Trump announced his intention to withdraw the United States from the Paris climate accord. For his supporters, it provided evidence, at last, that the president is a man of his word. He may not have kept many campaign promises, but he
    kept this one. For his numerous critics it is just another sign of how little Trump cares about evidence of any kind. His decision to junk the Paris accord confirms Trump as the poster politician for the “post-truth” age.

    But this is not just about Trump. The motley array of candidates who ran for the Republican presidential nomination was divided on many things, but not on climate change. None of them was willing to take the issue seriously. In a bitterly contentious
    election, it was a rare instance of unanimity. The consensus that climate is a non-subject was shared by all the candidates who appeared in the first major Republican debate in August 2015 – Jeb Bush, Scott Walker, Ben Carson, Ted Cruz, Marco Rubio,
    Rand Paul, Chris Christie, John Kasich, Mike Huckabee and Trump. Republican voters were offered 10 shades of denialism.

    As Huckabee quipped in January 2015, any talk of global warming was a distraction from the real dangers the country faced: “A beheading is a far greater threat to an American than a sunburn.” Trump’s remarks on climate may have more been erratic (
    I want to use hairspray!” he said at one point, confusing global warming with the hole in the ozone layer) but their consistent theme was that manmade climate change is a “hoax”, perpetrated by the enemies of the US, who may or may not include
    China.

    Climate science has become a red rag to the political right. The scientific consensus is clear: more than 95% of climate researchers agree that human activity is causing global warming, and that without action to combat it we are
    on a path to dangerous
    temperature rises from pre-industrial levels. But the mere existence of this consensus gets taken by its political opponents as a priori evidence of a stitch-up. Why else would scientists and left-leaning politicians be agreeing with each other all the
    time if they weren’t scratching each others’ backs? Knowledge is easily turned into “elite” knowledge, which is tantamount to privileged snobs telling ordinary people what to think. Trump’s stance reflects the mutual intolerance that now exists
    between those promoting the scientific consensus and those for whom the consensus is just another political racket. Trump didn’t create this division. He is simply exploiting it.

    It is tempting for anyone on the scientific side of the divide to want to apportion all the blame to the “alt-facts” crowd, who see elite conspiracies everywhere. But there is more going on here than dumb politics versus smart science. The facts are
    not just the innocent victims of politics. The facts have long been put in the service of politics, which is what fuels the suspicions of those who wish to deny them. The politicisation can cut both ways.

    The politics of climate change poses a stark dilemma for anyone wanting to push
    back against the purveyors of post-truth. Should they bide their time and trust
    that the facts will win out in the end? Or do they use the evidence as weapons in the
    political fight, in which case they risk confirming the suspicion that they have gone beyond the facts? It is not just climate scientists who find themselves in this bind. Economists making the case against Brexit found that the more they insisted on
    agreement inside the profession about the dangers, the more it was viewed with suspicion from the outside by people who regarded it as a political con.

    Post-truth politics also poses a problem for scepticism. A healthy democracy needs to leave plenty of room for doubt. There are lots of good reasons to be doubtful about what the reality of climate change will entail: though there is scientific agreement
    about the fact of global warming and its source in human activity, the ultimate
    risks are very uncertain and so are the long-term consequences. There is plenty
    of scope for disagreement about the most effective next steps. The existence of
    a very strong
    scientific consensus does not mean there should be a consensus about the correct political response. But the fact of the scientific consensus has produced an equal and opposite reaction that squeezes the room for reasonable doubt. The certainty among the
    scientists has engendered the most intolerant kind of scepticism among the doubters.

    Not all climate sceptics are part of the “alt-right”. But everyone in the alt-right is now a climate sceptic. That’s what makes the politics so toxic. It means that climate scepticism is being driven out by climate cynicism. A sceptic questions the
    evidence for a given claim and asks whether it is believable. A cynic questions
    the motives of the people who deploy the evidence, regardless of whether it is believable or not. Any attempt to defend the facts gets presented as evidence that the facts
    simply suit the interests of the people peddling them.

    Climate change is the defining political issue of our times and not simply because of the risks we run if we get it wrong. An inadequate response – if we do too little, too late – could inflict untold damage on the habitable environment. But even
    before that day comes, the contest over the truth about climate change is doing
    serious damage to our democracy.

    The fight over climate reveals how easily politics can get in the way of the facts, and how hard it can be to escape once cynicism exerts its grip. In many ways, climate science is particularly vulnerable to political distortion. But the issue of climate
    change also shows that it is a false comfort for liberal elites to think that the facts will win in the end. If they do, it won’t be because we woke up to the science. It will be because we woke up to the politics.

    Climate science has not always been so political. The idea that manmade carbon emissions are contributing to significant changes in the climate first came to public notice in the 1960s and 1970s. But attention to the issue was not primarily driven by
    politics, despite an attempt by Richard Nixon when president to push for more research into the issue. Most of the early consciousness-raising came from journalists.

    In 1975, Newsweek made a splash with the claim that the science of climate change was pointing to the imminent threat of global cooling. This warning gained notoriety but little political traction, at a time when the dangers of nuclear war and the
    economic consequences of the oil crisis crowded out other forms of apocalypse. The political consequences had to wait decades to be felt. Many of the recent Republican presidential candidates cited over-the-top scare stories about global cooling from
    their childhood as a reason to discount scare stories about global warming today.

    What politicised the idea of climate change was its adoption as a cause by Democratic politicians in the 1980s, above all by Al Gore. By the start of that
    decade, evidence of global cooling had faded and a scientific consensus was starting to form around
    the idea that the climate was warming up. Gore belonged to a group known as the
    “Atari Democrats”, for their wonkish attachment to science and technology. These politicians saw climate as a useful issue, as well as an urgent one. It was a way of
    appealing to moderate Republican voters, because the concerns it raised cut across party lines. In the words of another member of the group, Chuck Schumer,
    then a Brooklyn congressman, now Senate minority leader: “If you’re a Democrat, especially in
    a middle-class district or on the west coast, [climate] is a great issue … It
    is an issue with no downside.”

    The ecumenical quality of climate change as a political cause was emphasised when Margaret Thatcher took it up at around the same time. In her speech to the
    UN general assembly in 1989, she spoke of global warming as one of the most serious threats
    facing humanity. She was comfortable speaking the language of science, having been a scientist herself. But her motives were political: it suited her prior point of view. She drew extensively from the warnings of the Scott Polar Research Institute in
    Cambridge, in part because she had grown to trust their advice on climatic conditions during the Falklands war. She believed in nuclear power as an emblem
    of free enterprise. And she had historic reasons to be suspicious of coal. For Thatcher, climate
    change was a convenient truth.

    But no issue, once politicised, remains ecumenical for long. In 1989 Thatcher’s time was nearly up. Gore’s was just beginning. Through the 1990s
    and 2000s, as climate change became associated with left or liberal policy positions, it started to
    receive serious pushback from the right, for whom the political motivations of those championing the science were obvious. Climate change was seen as a vehicle for promoting big government and higher taxes. It became a totem of the
    partisan divide.

    This was the beginning of a vicious circle of mutual distrust. Once science gets dragged into the territory of politics, its opponents can accuse it of being a distortion of science. Scientists are meant to be politically neutral, at least as far as
    their science is concerned. Yet it is almost impossible to remain neutral when you are under political assault.

    In these politically charged circumstances, there is no safe space for the facts to retreat to. That was made clear by the so-called “climategate” scandal of 2009, when a series of hacked emails from the University of East Anglia was held up as
    evidence that the scientific evidence was being distorted to fit a political agenda. The emails showed no such thing. What they did reveal is that in an environment of highly politicised scepticism, climate scientists were forced to
    think about guarding
    the evidence against opponents looking for any excuse to discredit it.

    In private correspondence, the UEA scientists talked about presentational “tricks” for describing the data and the need to favour certain outlets for
    publication over others. They looked out for their friends and they were wary of their enemies: that
    s politics. There was nothing wrong with the science, as was confirmed by an extensive series of inquiries into the affair. But the emails betrayed the scientists’ awareness that the idea of a consensus on manmade climate change was under concerted
    attack. So they went out of their way to shore up the consensus. Which, when revealed, confirmed to their opponents that the consensus was a sham.

    This is how climate scepticism becomes climate cynicism: doubts about the evidence are replaced by doubts about the motives of the people using it. In 2012, Senator Jim Inhofe, a Republican who once brought a snowball on to the floor of the senate to
    show that climate change wasn’t real, published The Greatest Hoax: How the Global Warming Conspiracy Threatens Your Future. The book contains two lengthy appendices. The first is the full transcript of the UEA emails, presented as prima facie evidence
    that the science is a fix. The second is a history of the United Nations global
    development programme. The argument goes like this: there is no need for world government unless there are issues that can’t be solved by national governments. Climate
    change is such an issue. So it follows that it has been invented by people who can’t justify world government any other way. It is a globalist plot.

    Once cynicism becomes the default mode of attack, then both sides are trapped. Moreover, it is not a level playing field. It favours the cynics. Scientists have to decide whether to let the facts speak for themselves, or whether to try
    to take on the
    cynics at their own game. If they pull back from politics, they risk letting the cynics set the agenda. If they don’t, they risk proving the cynics right.

    .

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  • From Jeremy H. Denisovan@1:229/2 to All on Tuesday, August 21, 2018 11:14:11
    From: david.j.worrell@gmail.com

    PART II

    Cynicism is fuelled by the ease with which uncertainty about the science can be
    spread. All it takes is time and money. Questioning climate science suits the interests of the fossil fuel industry, where the politics of climate change has
    long been seen
    to pose a direct threat. Ever since climate became a political issue in the 1980s, the big oil companies have been funding an extensive PR operation to raise questions about the strength of the evidence. ExxonMobil alone has spent more than $240m on
    public relations in this area in the past two decades. Many of the leading Republican candidates for president in 2016 (though not Trump) took campaign funding from the Koch brothers, who have been at the forefront of the fight against the scientific
    consensus on climate change.

    The currency in which these campaigns trade is doubt. Their goal is to sow uncertainty in the public mind about what the science shows. In the words of an
    American Petroleum Institute action plan from 1998: “Victory will be achieved
    when average
    citizens ‘understand’ uncertainties in climate science.” To that end, money has been funnelled towards scientific researchers who dissent from mainstream opinion, even if those researchers are in a very small minority. Sowing doubt turns out to be
    relatively cost-efficient, because dissent only needs a few exceptions to the orthodoxy, whereas consensus requires everyone else to hold fast to it.

    However, it is no coincidence that this is how the oil industry chooses to see the struggle. Framing it as a contest between heterodoxy and orthodoxy fits the
    language of scepticism. In that way, it can be made to appear consistent with both science and
    democracy. Democracy needs dissent in order to function. Scientific progress depends on people being willing to challenge the conventional wisdom. Many climate sceptics argue that they are the ones on the side of science, because the currency of science
    is doubt. But when heterodox opinion gets purchased with hard cash, it cements the triumph of cynicism. Money ensures that motives are what matter.

    The ultimate goal of the merchants of doubt has been to politicise the orthodoxy, not simply to dispute it. What has given climate scepticism political teeth over the past two decades is the drive to associate the scientific consensus with the political
    establishment. Mainstream scientists and mainstream politicians are both viewed
    as belonging to a club that is comfortable spending other people’s money but deeply uncomfortable with anyone else’s point of view. In an age when all kinds of elites are
    viewed with suspicion, portraying scientists as a well-connected interest group
    leaves them vulnerable to political attack. Scientists take public funding. Scientists pass judgment on each other’s work. The scientific establishment is just another a
    closed shop.

    Political cynicism has weaponised climate scepticism. But it might also prove to be its achilles heel. Just as pure science struggles with the fact that it can’t avoid politics, so pure politics struggles with the fact that it can’t avoid science.
    Even the most cynical political operators need to know what’s really likely to happen. As reporting in the Los Angeles Times has shown, at the same time that it has been funding a PR campaign to question the scientific consensus, ExxonMobil has also
    been funding some of the research that underpins that consensus, including studies of rapidly shrinking ice levels in the Arctic. In the words of David Kaiser and Lee Wasserman, writing in the New York Review of Books, “a company
    as sophisticated and
    successful as Exxon would have needed to know the difference between its own propaganda and scientific reality”. Kaiser and Wasserman argue that, as a result, the company has committed fraud: it failed to disclose to its shareholders the basis on which
    it was making its investment decisions. Its business plans take it for granted that climate change is a real and imminent threat.

    This behaviour has clear echoes of an earlier attempt to challenge the scientific consensus: the campaign by the big tobacco companies to dispute the link between smoking and cancer. Although many of these businesses recognised as far back as the 1950s
    that the science was sound, they funded a body of widely disseminated research designed to throw doubt on that view. Their goal was to keep the public open-minded about the dangers of cigarettes, and therefore to keep as many of them puffing away for as
    long as possible. It was a purely cynical business strategy, and in some cases it was criminal as well. It worked to the extent that it bought the tobacco industry time to reorient its investment and marketing to take account of the new reality. But in
    the long run it failed. No reasonable person – and certainly no serious politician – now doubts the link between smoking and cancer. The fate of tobacco can give hope to people who worry that the truth is always outgunned: the science won out over
    the cynics in the end.

    Are there grounds for thinking that the same will be true for climate science? The tactics of the industries in question may be similar, but the cases are different in crucial respects. Tobacco impacts on its victims directly – smokers do eventually
    die – and it was when personal experience caught up with industry denial that
    the argument was lost. It is possible that climate change could kill even more people than smoking. But any damage on that scale is still a long way off. It is also far less
    direct. The victims will not necessarily be the people who are currently engaged in the most harmful behaviour.

    Once it had been established that smoking causes cancer, it was clear what had to be done to prevent it: individuals would have to stop smoking and tobacco companies would have to stop encouraging them. There is no equivalent certainty
    around climate
    change, even once we accept the scientific consensus that it is real. Those responsible for causing it are not those who will suffer most from it. The current migration crisis is partly being driven by changes in the climate affecting food and water
    supplies in Africa and the Middle East. But the politics of migration will never find answers in the science of climate change, for the simple reason that
    the science does not tell us what to do about it.

    Climate change has distinctive features as a political issue that make it much more intractable than other controversies in which the science was once in cynical dispute. The hyper-politicisation of climate science has coincided more
    or less directly
    with the rise of social media; the fight over tobacco took place before the age
    of the internet, which at least gave scientists some measure of protection from
    personal exposure. Meanwhile, the consequences of climate change are long-term,
    global and
    uncertain. That means any solution places a huge premium on trust. We have to trust that it really will cause harm. We have to trust that we are responsible for any harm it causes. We have to trust that any action we take won’t be undone by the
    inaction of others. In an age of enormous mistrust in politicians, this poses a
    huge challenge.

    We need far more trust in politics than we have at present in order to take concerted action on climate change: apart from anything, we would need to believe that politicians would be willing to share in the sacrifices they ask of us. In the meantime,
    those who are determined to sow suspicion about the merits of concerted action are fuelling our mistrust in politics. There is no equivalent of watching a relative die of lung cancer to split the difference.

    The people who made the case that smoking causes cancer were not generally thought of as hypocrites. It’s true that some of them still smoked, even after they knew the dangers. But there were far more smokers inside the tobacco
    industry, where being
    seen with a cigarette in hand was positively encouraged as a signal that there was nothing to worry about.

    Climate science is different. Ever since it became a political issue, it has been bedevilled by accusations of hypocrisy. The internet is awash with tales of Al Gore and his monstrous double standards: he racks up enormous air-conditioning bills in his
    multiple homes; he leaves his private jet idling on the runway as he spreads the message that flying is wrong; he sells his television network for megabucks
    to al-Jazeera, where the money to buy it comes from Qatari oil. In the words of
    the National
    Review in 2016: “The [climate] hysterics are hypocrites. It’s austerity for
    thee but not for me as they jet around the world to speak to adoring audiences about the need for sacrifice.” Until wealthy liberal New Yorkers start selling up their
    Manhattan real estate and moving to higher ground, the cynics say, there’s really nothing to worry about.

    Recent research by a group of psychologists shows why this is such a problem: we dislike hypocrites because we hate they way they seem to be signalling their
    superior virtue. Take two kinds of claims about environmental activism. Under one set of
    conditions, a speaker claims to recycle his rubbish, after which it is revealed
    that he does no such thing. Under the other, a speaker tell his listeners they should recycle their rubbish, after which it is revealed that he does not do it
    himself. The
    first is a liar. The second is a hypocrite, but not a liar, since what he says is still true (people should recycle their rubbish). Most people respond with relative equanimity to the lie. But they loathe the hypocrisy, because the hypocrite seems to be
    patronising them.

    This is terrible news for environmentalism. Doctors who smoke are not really patronising their patients: if anything, they are revealing sympathetic human weakness. But environmental activists who leave the engine running are easily portrayed as dreadful
    elitists: they think the rules don’t apply to them. The populist rabble-rousers of the right have exploited this fact mercilessly. Hypocrisy is hard to avoid when it comes to the politics of climate change, since it is a collective-action problem. It’
    s far from clear what difference any individual action will make. What matters is what we do together. This makes it practically impossible for any one individual to match words to deeds. Yet the failure to do so provides the perfect stick for the
    climate cynics to beat their opponents with.

    If we dislike hypocrisy more than we dislike lying, then it is not just a problem for climate politics. It is a problem for democracy. It gives the liars
    their chance. During the presidential campaign, it was widely hoped that Trump’s relentless record
    of untruths would be his undoing. In the New York Times, David Leonhardt painstakingly listed the 26 lies Trump told in the first presidential debate, which ought to have been enough for anyone. But Trump has always been careful not to come across as the
    wrong sort of hypocrite: the kind who seems to be talking down to people. Hillary Clinton was not so careful. And when the voters get to choose between the two, the hypocrite loses to the liar.

    In the febrile, divisive state of our politics, it’s not what you say, it’s
    what you say about yourself by saying it that really counts. The social media revolution amplifies and exaggerates these kinds of accusations. It has become easier than ever
    to find evidence of how individuals’ public attitudes are given the lie by their private actions. There are now so many public attitudes to choose from, and private actions are now so much harder to hide. Twitter is a vast hypocrisy-generating machine
    that is corroding democratic politics. Scepticism, which is a democratic virtue, is giving way to cynicism, which is a democratic vice, across the board.

    Since his arrival in the White House, Donald Trump has been in the middle of a tug of war between the liars and the hypocrites inside the West Wing. On one side stands Steve Bannon, representative of the “alt-right”, still looking to flush out the
    hypocrisy of the globalists and ready to peddle any old conspiracy theory to achieve his goals. On the other stand the younger members of Trump’s family, including his daughter Ivanka and her husband Jared Kushner, who are more concerned with keeping
    up appearances.

    Climate change quickly emerged as one of the fault lines in this showdown. In the end it was Bannon who persuaded Trump to make good on his promise to withdraw the US from the Paris climate accord. Kushner argued that this would send the wrong signal and
    that much more could be achieved by sticking with the agreement but reorienting
    it to suit the interests of the big American fossil fuel producers. Trump’s secretary of state, Rex Tillerson, who was previously the CEO of ExxonMobil, sided with Kushner.
    They lost.

    In this case, both approaches are equally cynical. For Bannon, everything, including climate science, is just an extension of politics: all that matters is which side you are on. For his opponents inside the administration, climate change can be
    sidelined as an issue by paying lip service to the consensus while acting in ways that make it irrelevant. The liar denies that climate change is really happening. The hypocrite accepts that it is real but behaves as if the words don’t mean anything.

    Trump’s administration is dragging climate science further into the swamp of partisan politics. Populist attacks on the scientific consensus co-opt reasonable doubt and turn it into unreasonable suspicion of another self-interested elite. The natural
    tendency of any elite under this sort of pressure it to build the castle walls higher in order to keep the interlopers out.

    Faced with a concerted assault on their integrity, what should climate scientists do? They face a choice. One option is to try to reclaim climate scepticism from the people who have corrupted it. The other is to insist more strongly than ever on the
    consensus. When the space for doubt has been taken away, you can respond by becoming more certain of your own position. Or you can try to take doubt back.


    [continued in next message]

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  • From Jeremy H. Denisovan@1:229/2 to All on Wednesday, August 22, 2018 10:22:43
    From: david.j.worrell@gmail.com

    The Atlantic

    The President Is a Crook
    The country now faces a choice between the Trump presidency and the rule of law.

    DAVID FRUM
    9:18 AM ET

    So now it’s confirmed, as a matter of legal record, that President Donald Trump organized a scheme to violate federal election laws. He directed his longtime personal attorney to pay at least one woman for silence. That attorney
    got the money by lying
    to a bank to get a home-equity line of credit.

    It’s a matter of legal record, too, that Trump’s campaign chair was a huge-scale crook. Despite his desperate financial straits, he volunteered to work for Trump for free—and Trump accepted.

    These two cases complete the beginnings of the story. They are not the story in
    full. The Michael Cohen and Paul Manafort cases are like the first rocky outcroppings a ship passes as it makes landfall. They are examples of the kind of people willing to
    work for Trump—and the way that those people carried on their business. They indicate why one of Trump’s sons would write “I love it” when offered stolen information about the Hillary Clinton campaign by a purported representative of the Russian
    government, how so much doubtful money flowed into the Trump Organization after
    2006, and why Trump dares not publish his tax returns.

    House Speaker Paul Ryan’s office replied to a query from The Washington Post about the Cohen case: “We are aware of Mr. Cohen’s guilty plea to these serious charges. We will need more information than is currently available at this point.” Of
    course, a major priority of Ryan’s speakership has been to protect himself and his party against unearthing “more information” about Trump’s campaign, Trump’s businesses, and Trump’s finances. But despite his incuriosity, more information
    will almost certainly head his way, unless …

    Unless President Trump somehow finds a way to shut it down.

    It gets harder and harder to condemn an investigation as a witch hunt as it holds your closest associates accountable for major crimes. Who imagines that the Cohen plea and Manafort conviction represent the end of the trail? Pardons can protect the
    president’s associates from prison. But they can’t protect the president issuing the pardon—if anything, they would worsen his exposure and enhance the impression of guilt.

    Trump has apparently calculated that the cost of closing down Robert Mueller’s inquiry is greater than the cost of enduring it. That always looked
    a gamble against the odds. Now it looks a proven bad bet, and a bet that will only worsen over time.

    Can Trump’s own affairs survive the scrutiny applied to Cohen’s and Manafort’s? Can his company’s? Can his family’s?

    Before Trump entered politics, nobody ever bothered to look very hard into Trump’s affairs. Now they are looking. Trump imagined that holding the usual powers of the presidency would safeguard him. He has learned his mistake. In November 2017, he
    complained to a friendly radio interviewer:

    The saddest thing is that because I’m the president of the United States, I am not supposed to be involved with the Justice Department. I am not supposed to be involved with the FBI.

    Not supposed to be — but what if he concludes he has to be? As Trump comprehends his danger, will he really meekly submit?

    Trump’s whole philosophy of life is of a kill-or-be-killed competition. It’s an old question: Is Trump an authoritarian, or a crook? The answer is shaping up. Trump must be an authoritarian precisely because he is a crook. The
    country can have the
    rule of law, or it can keep the Trump presidency. Facing that choice, who doubts what Trump’s answer, or the answer of his supporters, will be?

    DAVID FRUM is a senior editor at The Atlantic. In 2001–02, he was a speechwriter for President George W. Bush.

    ***

    Even Dubya's old people are trashing the Dumpster,
    openly calling him 'a crook' in public. And they're right. http://tinyurl.com/ybjddg4v

    .

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  • From Jeremy H. Denisovan@1:229/2 to All on Thursday, August 23, 2018 12:45:26
    From: david.j.worrell@gmail.com

    Congress, Do Your Job

    After President Trump’s Terrible Tuesday, Republican lawmakers need to stop pretending that there are any red lines that he won’t cross.

    NYTimes Editorial Board
    Aug. 22, 2018

    http://tinyurl.com/4kcmbx7

    Congressional Republicans have been operating under a see-no-evil policy with President Trump: ignoring his lying, his subversions of democratic norms and his attacks on government institutions or, when that’s not possible, dismissing such outrages as
    empty bluster — as Trump being Trump.

    This brazenly partisan act has become even more strained since Tuesday, when Michael Cohen, the president’s longtime lawyer and fixer, directly implicated
    the president in criminal activity. Mr. Cohen asserted in a plea deal with federal prosecutors
    that, in the closing weeks of the 2016 campaign, Mr. Trump directed him to use illegal campaign contributions to pay hush money to two women who said they had
    sex with him.

    Also on Tuesday, a federal jury convicted Mr. Trump’s former campaign chairman, Paul Manafort, of bank and tax fraud. How did Mr. Trump react? More like a Mafia don than a guardian of the rule of law. While criticizing Mr. Cohen on Wednesday, the
    president tweeted that, by contrast, he had “such respect for a brave man” like Mr. Manafort, who “refused to ‘break’ … to get a ‘deal.’ ” The president, in other words, felt moved to praise a convicted felon for refusing to cooperate
    in the pursuit of justice.

    And how did Republicans in Congress react? They didn’t, if they could avoid it. John Cornyn, the majority whip in the Senate, shrugged that he had “no idea about what the facts” of Mr. Cohen’s guilty plea were “other than the fact that none of
    it has anything to do with the Russia investigation.” The office of the House
    speaker, Paul Ryan, said it needed “more information.” Most members opted for silence.

    Let’s set aside, for the moment, the duty of lawmakers to the Republic and the Constitution and instead consider simple political self-interest. Even by this standard, Republicans’ behavior is beginning to look like masochism if not simple madness.
    When members of Mr. Trump’s party pooh-pooh his thuggish rantings and otherwise signal that they will overlook even his most dangerous behavior, they
    are inviting him to act out even more. Like a willful toddler, Mr. Trump lives to test limits.

    Republican lawmakers need not attack Mr. Trump in order to stop enabling his worst impulses and begin distancing themselves from his corruption. They simply
    need to stop cowering. An obvious first step is for Congress to pass legislation protecting
    Robert Mueller’s Russia inquiry, which has become the bane of Mr. Trump’s existence. The president has toyed with the idea of firing Mr. Mueller and his superior, Deputy Attorney General Rod Rosenstein, moves that would ignite a constitutional crisis.
    Lawmakers are deluding themselves to think that he won’t consider such radical acts again as his predicament grows more dire.

    Much of the groundwork for a bill to protect the Russia investigation has already been laid, with a bipartisan plan having passed the Senate Judiciary Committee. Shamefully, Senator Mitch McConnell, the Republican majority leader,
    has refused to bring
    the bill up for a vote, insisting that it is unnecessary because of course the president would never fire Mr. Mueller. Mr. Ryan has spouted similar assurances. Then again, Mr. Ryan also laughed off the idea that Mr. Trump would
    strip his political
    critics of their security clearances, so clearly Republican leaders are not the
    best barometers of this president’s thinking.

    Speaking of Mr. Ryan, the speaker needs to shut down the attacks on Mr. Rosenstein by Mr. Trump’s lackeys in the arch-conservative Freedom Caucus. Earlier this summer, Representatives Mark Meadows and Jim Jordan threatened to force an impeachment vote
    on Mr. Rosenstein, claiming that he was impeding Congress’s harassment — uh, “investigation” — of the Justice Department and the F.B.I. When that plan flopped, the men set their sights on holding Mr. Rosenstein in contempt of
    Congress — which
    doesn’t sound as dramatic, but would, if successful, provide Mr. Trump an excuse to oust Mr. Rosenstein and replace him with a lap dog.

    Congress also needs to open investigations into the campaign finance violations
    to which Mr. Cohen pleaded guilty and said Mr. Trump directed — illegally using corporate funds to influence the election by funneling money to the women
    through The
    National Enquirer and Mr. Trump’s company.

    Once upon a time, campaign finance violations made congressional Republicans very angry indeed. During Bill Clinton’s second term, there was quite an uproar over allegations that the Chinese government had attempted to influence the 1996 presidential
    race via illegal campaign contributions. (Does Vice President Al Gore’s visit
    to a certain Buddhist temple ring any bells?) Republicans, who controlled both the House and the Senate, started investigations in both chambers. The inquiries spanned two
    Congresses and cost millions of dollars.

    While breaking campaign finance laws may not sound as serious as, say, obstructing a criminal investigation into whether Mr. Trump’s campaign colluded with Russia to help him get elected, it, too, violates the integrity of the American electoral system.
    If Mr. Trump arranged secret payments to hush up his affairs, then he conspired to deny voters information he feared would harm his electoral chances. His efforts to hide the money trail suggest he knew his behavior wasn’t kosher. And while the
    initial payments to the women were made before Mr. Trump won the election, he didn’t begin compensating Mr. Cohen until February of 2017 — thus any conspiracy was carried straight into the Oval Office.

    Every week seems to bring fresh evidence that Mr. Trump, his inner circle and his main backers do not consider themselves bound by such pedestrian concepts as truth, ethics or the law. The latest confirmation for that was the corruption indictment of
    Representative Duncan Hunter, Mr. Trump’s second campaign supporter in the House. The first, Representative Chris Collins, was indicted two weeks ago on insider-trading charges.

    The good news is that, for the most part, the justice system seems to be dealing with the problem pretty effectively. Both the courts and the Department
    of Justice are working to uncover the facts and serve the public good.

    Congress, unfortunately, remains crouched and trembling in a dark corner, hoping this is all a bad dream. It’s not. Republican lawmakers need to buck up, remind themselves of their constitutional responsibilities and erect some basic guardrails to
    ensure that — in a fit of rage, panic or mere pique — this president does not wake up one morning and decide to drive American democracy off a cliff.

    ***

    Actually, there HAVE been a few statements from Republicans.

    Representative Tom Cole, a former House Republican campaign chairman,
    warned: “Where there’s smoke, and there’s a lot of smoke, there may
    well be fire... Anybody who says this is not disturbing is not being
    honest”. Mr. Cole, a former head of the National Republican
    Congressional Committee, added, “so my advice to any candidate would
    be: Keep your powder dry and don’t rush to attack or defend anybody
    because you just don’t know enough to have a reaction that you can
    still defend three months from now.”

    [Good advice. Who knows what else is going to come out?? :)
    This is a friggin' circus... ]

    Representative Carlos Curbelo, Republican of Florida, called the
    accumulation of Trump-related scandals a “sad chapter in our
    country’s politics” and said that “no one is above the law.”
    Mr. Curbelo, in a tough re-election fight, also reproached the
    president for his caustic attacks on the special counsel,
    Robert S. Mueller III. “He’s making a major mistake by attacking
    the Mueller probe in such a personal way,” said Mr. Curbelo.
    “The best thing for everyone, especially if the White House is
    so confident that the president will be absolved in this process,
    is to let the process continue.”

    [Yes, it was a major mistake, and he's been making it all along.
    It made him look guilty. And surprise, surprise, he is.]

    Representative John Katko, running a difficult race in central
    New York, told The Post-Standard in Syracuse on Wednesday that
    mounting legal trouble around the president “raises it to another
    level of concern, there’s no question about it.” “Wherever the
    facts go, if they go towards the president or someone in the
    White House, they’re not above the law,” Mr. Katko said,
    voicing support for the Mueller inquiry. “No one is.”

    And let's not forget these recent developments...

    Representative Duncan D. Hunter of California was indicted on a
    charge of using campaign money to fund a lavish lifestyle.
    Those charges came only weeks after Representative Chris Collins
    of New York was arrested on charges of insider trading, something
    that has also tarnished a handful of his colleagues, including
    Representative John Culberson, an endangered Texas Republican.
    Mr. Collins and Mr. Hunter were Mr. Trump’s two earliest
    congressional supporters.

    In Virginia, Representative Scott Taylor is accused of forging
    signatures to get an independent on the ballot this fall to help
    save his seat. And in Florida, Representative Vern Buchanan is
    accused of accepting a seven-figure yacht loan from a bank
    lobbying for last year’s tax cut, then purchasing the 73-foot
    vessel on the same day he voted for the measure he helped write.

    “It has been a really bad August,” as Mr. Cole put it.

    ***

    Naw, it's been a pretty good August. :) Take the dirty rats down.

    .

    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)