Police State USSA

Rasmussen Reports recently announced the results of an interesting little poll of American voters, regarding the idea of “the consent of the governed”. Shall we poke around in the data a bit?

What with all the military madness this country maintains, I’m rather surprised it took the winter Olympics to bring one of my favorite Rush songs out of the recesses of my memory:

David Gumpert has become something of a hero to me—not because his blog focuses on the healthful properties of raw milk, but rather because he actively seeks to understand, and to present, all the players’ perspectives in the complicated regulatory dance that has developed around it. Recently, he’s focused on challenges in Wisconsin—an area that doesn’t make the news frequently, but which is suffering economically along with much of this country.

I expect that many freedom-loving individuals would answer that question in the negative; but some would aver otherwise, pointing to the power of a jury as a (perhaps “the”) remaining check on the state’s dominance. I’ve pondered that issue for some time—wanting to be convinced by the arguments, truth be told, but never making it that far. The primary obstacle is the vanishingly small role juries directly play in most people’s lives. How many adults are tapped for jury duty? Out of those who go, how many actually serve? How many times does an average person sit on a jury? I have no numbers to pin to those questions, but it should be clear that I am skeptical that an activity that at best probably commands only a few hours of a person’s life is going to be seen as enormously important to him.

Another assertion that would likely be offered is that juries can make or break laws—and that does affect many people, as we all live under the burden of the laws of our jurisdiction. But again, I have problems ... Jury nullification depends upon at least one informed, courageous person; and the voir dire process actively seeks to eliminate such individuals from juries. That person must also keep his intentions secret until deliberations, else a mistrial could be called. Even that doesn’t guarantee that a mistrial won’t happen.

But—and here’s the heart of the matter—all the jury power in the world won’t make a bit of difference if the judge plays fast and loose with his power in the courtroom. A judge has a variety of means by which he can skew a trial, including what he allows as evidence, lines of questioning the lawyers are allowed to pursue, and the instructions he gives to the jury before they retire for deliberation.

Some judges have apparently become so brazen that they will not allow the jury access to the actual law(s) under consideration in a case. Pete Hendrickson says that’s what happened to him in his recently-concluded trial with the IRS.

Finally getting to the long promised story of my trip to California. You were warned. [grin]

It all started months ago when my sister sent me tickets for the airfare. She'd always wanted to do that, but I'd never before agreed to fly... but I had a 2 1/2 year old grandson I'd never seen, and wanted badly to reconnect with my two sons, so I bit the proverbial bullet and accepted.

Just thought I'd jump in and say I'm traveling for a few days and can't always get on line. I'll be writing about my experiences soon, just be warned. [grin]

My friend Peter and I have discussed the speculation surrounding what may lie ahead for this country, and those who live here, a fair bit. Being a much better multi–tasker than I, he has offered a stimulating perspective in a new essay, American Winter. It’s fairly long, full of cogent observations and asides, and I barely finished skimming it before starting to tell you nine about it—so I don’t have any deep thoughts of my own to offer at present.

Given how frequently I’ve been pointing to him of late, it probably comes as no surprise that I’m pointing to another essay by Peter Saint-Andre this morning.

A Cryptohippie friend brought to my attention their recent report on the electronic police state. Quite intriguing, it is.

In all honesty, I don’t know why I remember this date every year ... being all of eight years old when the Ohio National Guard opened fire on Kent State student protestors, killing four and wounding nine, I certainly can’t claim to have understood the event and its repercussions at the time. And yet ... when I was considering Ohio universities to apply to, only two were off the table for me: Antioch, because my mother forbade me from it (for reasons that she carried to her grave); and Kent State. More than likely hearing the Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young song Ohio with the refrain “Four dead in Ohio” seared the event in my mind more than the news of the day did.

However it happened, seared I was ... and while I usually just make mental note of the date, this year I’ve been thinking about the incident and its aftermath, in the context of today’s police state activities.

If so, don’t get too cheerful—it isn’t the kind of lawlessness we twel– 21 would like to see.

It can be very tempting—especially for those just testing the waters of political resistance in support of freedom—after considering the tangle of laws and regulations, the penalties for violating them, and those who serve the state in administering and enforcing them, to rethink one’s course. I can understand the urge to back down, to some degree: trying to conceptualize all of that sprawling power is daunting; and between steady streams of bad news [thanks, Joel] and stories of thug brutality both neophytes and seasoned activists might find it hard to draw a deep breath, and summon the will for another round. I don’t mean to play Pollyanna here, nor to pretend that such treatment only happens in other places, and to other people—but it is vitally important to understand that when we adopt this perspective of the state and its agents, we are too often falling right into their hands.

Okay, most of us have probably gotten our April 15 frustrations vented by now. I have a couple of recent stories to tell regarding other ways the state’s agents are coming up with to rob us.

Oh, this just cracks me up.

So, somehow the other day I ended up at Thomas.loc.gov—in case anyone reading is unfamiliar with it, that’s the part of the online Library of Congress where federal legislation is warehoused (it’s named in honor of Thomas Jefferson, which I rather doubt he’d find much of an honor). The link went to an expired version of some bill, so I spent a bit of time trying to track down the current crapola. Dunno that I ever got there, though ... what I saw while wading through the muck was quite off-putting.