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Are You More Moral, More Benevolent and More Competent Than Any Politician? Then Act Like It.

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[Original post title: Is Collectivism Relative?]

At times I become totally disillusioned by the track the Paleo community seems to be taking, on pure momentum. Perhaps it’s just my perception.

While the Ancestral Health Symposium was a tremendous breath of fresh air in this regard, by no means do I think it made even the slightest dent in the overall trend. Paleo, for the vast, vast majority, is just a way to lose fat, feel better, build a bit of lean mass, learn not to obsess over hunger, and gain a measure of normal health.

And that’s a lot. There’s no denying that; everyone comes from their own place; everyone has their own level of outrage and euphoria. For some, the differences are really so profound that it might come as a shock to them that it’s only a third of the deal.

A third?

Yep, because all these things address mostly your body; not mind, not society. All that is not the direct aspect of what relates to mind and society in the former are dismissed as irrelevant, if they’re even thought of at all, which I tend to doubt. Everyone still goes to their cubicle, spends hours per day in auto-commute, shores up and maintains relationships that are toxic or a hindrance to happiness, sleeps like crap and…and…stands in line at a polling place to get a micro sliver of a say in his or her own affairs with absolutely zero hope of ever swaying society to his or her way of thinking in his or her own lifetime…and this is after spending countless hours watching cable news and ingesting the mind poison of the political pundits in print.

Talk about stress, if stress is taken to mean being subject to means and situations totally out of your control or practical influence.

But it doesn’t seem to stop many, if any, and this an eternal curiosity to me.

I have blogged it so many times it’s probably already boring. We didn’t only evolve not eating grains and processed food. We also evolved in small groups of 30-60, where each and every adult individual could account for the values and actions of each and every other member, and had a real, important influence on the direction and behavior of the group as a whole.

We evolved with real social power. Did you read that? We evolved with real social power. And now, modern human animals — as though in a lab, having learned to press a lever to drop a few more pellets of food in the bowl – delude themselves into believing they have great power, when in reality they haven’t a scintilla of a microscopic particle of it. Nobody who’s not already morally depraved enough to do something like run for an office so they can “practice public policy” can hold a candle to an average human animal hunting and gathering in terms of power and influence. Both are true masters of their domain and society: one based upon force and coercion, the other on mutually earned respect.

…I got a steer to an interesting post via Twitter yesterday: Is Centralization Inevitable?

Well I’ve used the word collectivism in my title which is an end result of political centralization, and there’s a small point to that. It’s relative. Family units, for example, are small collectives, which means: the ways, means, resources and spoils are generally shared without an exhaustive accounting of each member’s contribution. Which is to say: from each according to his ability; to each, according to his need. Ah, context.

The rub is that in the family unit or small social circle, you have the power to cut someone off any time you want, if they don’t pull their weight or worse: become parasitical in all the ways that can turn from outright laziness to self-destructive behavior culminating in utter dependence on many levels.

OK so let’s get to some excepts from Donald Livingston, professor emeritus of philosophy at Emory University.

There is nothing “inevitable” about centralization. Man is a social being. There is an inbuilt disposition of human nature to form small scale polities composed of federations of extended families, kinship ties, and accepted foreigners. This is natural. Vast scale centralized regimes are not natural. They are artificial. Modern theorists such as Hobbes, Locke try to say that these large states are rationally formed because the aggregate of individuals under them choose this condition for peace and security (Hobbes) or to enhance liberty (Locke). Both Hobbes and Locke are wrong. The truth is that all large states are the result of conquest and a rough process of digesting the smaller polities consumed. A story about “peace” or “liberty,” or the later ones about “equality,” “human rights,” “democracy,”etc. are noble lies told after the fact to reconcile us to the modern state.

Shorter Livingston: The state is in no way “Paleo.” It is as Neolithic as grains and actually, far more toxic and lethal, with hundreds of million deaths of innocents under its belt. It is all a big fat lie, and that goes for America the Beautiful as much as for any other.

A look at ancient history might suggest that centralized empires are inevitable. Everywhere in the ancient world we find empires: the Hittite, Babylonian, Assyrian, Persian, Egyptian,etc. Everywhere except Greece. The Greeks built a world class civilization from which we still draw inspiration which was completely decentralized. It was composed of over 1,500 tiny republics, the largest of which was around 160,000 or so.

“It would never work.”

What of defense? The Persian empire commanded the resources of some 40 million. The Greeks had around 8 million, scattered from Naples to the Black Sea. Surely the big boy could pick these little states off like fruit. But the Persians were never able to do so. History is filled with David and Goliath stories of this sort. Eg. Switzerland founded, as I recall, in 1291 and surrounded by large intrusive monarchies.

“But it would never work. Plus, what of those who want to kill us for our ‘freedoms’?”

[…] And are large modern states safe? European states were centralized under monarchs and even more so under mass democracies; each seeking to grow larger to be able to overwhelm the other. In the process of centralization, peace could be enforced within the state–though at the price of “digesting” the hundreds of smaller units crushed into it to create its huge bulk. This left a rootless mass of timid and obedient subjects under central control.

“This left a rootless mass of timid and obedient subjects under central control.” Very Paleo, but that’s what I see the movement coming to by raw momentum of mass, after being initially husbanded by a lot of folks with libertarian and individualist sentiments. Well, there’s always raw milk activism. There’s that. And look, I’m not saying these battles aren’t worth fighting. I’m making a plea merely to look far beyond it to, in the words of Thoreau, “strike at the root.”

Nevertheless, there was peace of sorts within the state’s border. But what about outside? The first global war was the Seven years War, then Napoleon, then WWI, WWII, the Cold War. Have Germany, France, Britain, Russia been safe places to live in the 20th century? No, they have not been. And you know Rummel’s figures that nearly four times as many people have been killed by their own governments as in all the wars fought around the globe, foreign and domestic, in the 20th century.

And he even makes a moral argument, surprise surprise. For someone who reads almost nothing but how well “it will work” [for whom?], this was quite a surprise.

[…] Still our moral judgment should be about whether decentralization of a modern state is a good thing or not. Not whether modern states are superior in some respects to pre-modern ones. They obviously are in some respects and not in others.

Translation: Freedom can actually really suck sometimes on a practical level, but that doesn’t give you moral right to make others your slaves because you’re an insecure little pussy with big investments in status quo who can’t take what life dishes out.

Much of the rest engages or envisions how decentralization could work and I never engage in that. I don’t really care if freedom is totally “unworkable.” It’s who and what I am, so fuck your utilitarianism.

There’s only one thing more pathetic to me than the 300 pounder with a shopping cart full of crap in a box and bottles filled with sugar water: it’s the picture of the lean and ripped Paleo standing in line to get his 1/300 millionth say in his own affairs at the voting booth. Testifying before Congress might come in a close second.

We have no demands to present to you, no bargains to strike, no compromise to reach. You have nothing to offer us. We do not need you. – John Galt

Never forget that you…you…are more moral, more benevolent, more competent than any single office holder in the entire world. You live by the means of your ability to produce and voluntarily trade value for value. They live by means of force and coercion. There are no exceptions, no qualifications.

You’re better than that, and I wish everyone in mass would just simply start really acting like it.

Update: For much more information on this general topic including references, see Andrew at Evolvify: Foundations for a Hunter-Gatherer Philosophy II: The Libertarianism Question. Even libertarianism isn’t even remotely close to Paleo, much less far more intrusive states or so-called “lands of the free.”

A Tribute: Gaëlle Beyou, 1967 – 2010

[La traduction française suit ci-dessous. Faites défiler.]

Leaving your life behind at 43 years of age is too young, no matter the cause

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A Weekend Drive to Saint Tropez; Summer, 1990

This last Monday afternoon I was idly having a drink on the patio, fiddling with my iPad and on a lark, decided to Google Gaëlle’s name. I had done this before, perhaps a few years ago and never came up with anything. …I suppose I see myself as some sort of “terrestrial steward,” looking…not omnipotently down, but humanely across, now and then, just wanting to assure my non-omniscient self that the people who’ve been most important in my life — turned random in time, place & circumstance — are well. …That they’re happy, pursuing their own values and interests — with no particular concern for me.

And I got a hit.

The excerpt of the Google result looked promising: “Publications de marriage,” along with her name, which is a unique name, and so I was, at once, jubilant. But for some reason that I will perhaps never understand, they appear to publish marriage and death notices in the same piece, in France.

Décès

Gaëlle Beyou veuve Pinau, 43 ans, Tréflez

And in less than an instant, four pieces of information beyond her name converged into an absolute and horrible certainty and I was devastated to a state of weeping. No!

Her death, unexpected and unforeseen (out of nowhere, with no symptom or sign), was likely the result of a ruptured coronary embolism, according to family with whom I have been in touch.

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A Photo Op Along the Way

I met Gaëlle in January of 1990, within a week of embarking on the FNS COLBERT (C 611) as a US Navy exchange officer to the French Navy. This was out & about in Toulon and the very first thing I noted about her was her joyous smile, and her laugh that typically followed. That’s not to say that she couldn’t spit fire as well, but that would come later. We talked for a long time, time I’ve long since lost track of.

She stood me up for our first date and I thought well, oh well… Them’s the breaks & c’est la vie.

But then the next day, during a formal luncheon on COLBERT with who knows who because I don’t remember anymore, nor care, a steward came up and told me I had a phone call.

And so begun a tumultuous — but never boring — relationship that led to her moving in with me a couple of months later, some talk of marriage, roller coaster liaisons, and finally, in the early summer of 1990, realization that her 23 years of age compared to my 29 was not really going to work in our circumstance. She considered herself on the cusp of new life exploration, while I had just come from five years of living in Japan, traveling all over Asia and exploring life similarly and in every possible way.

I was ready to settle down. She was not.

I’ve never taken rejection to heart, too much. There’s a reason — a random time & circumstance — that people find a way to join together, and when something changes or is realized too much for one, the other, or both, there’s equally a reason to part. I’ve just never seen that sort of thing, in normal circumstance, as any sort of [self] “righteous” indictment on the character or motivations of either. Times and circumstances change.

And so thankfully, we remained very close. We even took off on a whim afterward, and spent two weeks in Greece, on the Island of Skiathos. To give you a bit of insight into the self-assured, independent character of this young woman: it’s very common on this and other islands and resort areas the world over to rent one scooter that you share. We did this. Of course: I drove, she took the back. But midway into the first day she was distraught. She wanted her own scooter. So for the remainder of the two weeks, we raced just about everywhere we went.

Months later she would tell me that every time she put on shoes she wore while there, she would remember Skiathos and that time, because of the marks made on her shoes from the gearshift pedal. So there you go, guys. Think about it.

That summer of 1990 was a time of being casual friends and lovers, suiting us fine — a niche in time & circumstance we found and that worked for both. But then Iraq invaded Kuwait, and because oil and the geopolitics that go hand in hand were at stake, I left ever so reluctantly — sensing what was in store — one August morning on the COLBERT, not to return for 60 days.

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You Always Knew When to Leave Her Alone

Things are different for people on land than they are for those at sea. The people at sea yearn only for their people on land. Those on land have far more options and it’s of no fault of their own that they do.

My return from that excursion marked the definitive end for Gaëlle & I. And yet we still remained friends, even after months of no news between us. She did end up going back to the man of her age who she’d been with at the time I met her, and eventually married him. I’d known him for a long time. He was also on the COLBERT. In time we became good acquaintances and he would even call me to ask that I give her a call, to cheer her up…about this or that.

He died a tragic death within a year of my leaving France in 1992. And so that was one of those pieces of information that gave me certainty last Monday: “veuve Pinau.”

…She met Pierre, an engineer with a good education, smart head on his shoulders, good family…people of the Earth, and real food and life (Paleos would be proud). On the 4th of July, 1993, she…they…gave birth to a son. I visited for about a week in December, 1993 as a guest on his parent’s farm and in their home, and partook of genuine French hospitality that I had sorely missed over two years away: amazing food on a quotidian basis and their own farm-grown fruit in the form of wine.

Sometimes Americans need a vacation from America.

Though I was still stricken in many ways by this woman, I had to leave it alone. There was a son to take care of who had an excellent, smart father — I saw it with my own eyes — and so I had to just leave her alone. That was the last time I saw her. She called me by telephone in 1996, the last time I spoke with her. By then they were living apart, but sharing time with their son. Pierre emailed yesterday, once I had been able to make contact:

Gaëlle spoke about you so often

Last evening I received an email from her son, now 18. He remains understandably devastated by the loss of his mother. I have scanned all the photos I have of her and passed them on; and over time, I will pass on anecdotes and recollections about what a joy it was for me to be with her.

…To add insult to an awful injury, between 1993 and now, I’ve been back to France twice. Once was in 2005, when Beatrice & I did an auto-tour though France, Spain and Italy over a three week span with no hotel reservations. One of the places we loved most was Monterosso, Italy, on the Cinque Terre. Last year, on the spur of a moment, I decided we need to go back and spend a week just there.

Gaëlle’s event took place the morning of July 20. At noon on July 22, with family at her bedside, doctors turned off the machines keeping her heart beating. She died within the hour. We landed in Paris the very day and approximate time of her death, at 11:00am on July 22, departing for Rome at 12:35pm. This will forever remain for me a cruel reminder of a very unfortunate coincidence, by which I mean a sort of, not earned, but “cosmic” or humane guilt. I understand it’s irrational when someone says “I should have been there,” or, “I should have done something,” when there’s no way they could have or been expected to know. But given the coincidental timing and proximity, I now have a deeper insight into this sort of helpless, harmless, and completely natural irrationality. And I embrace it.

~~~

Perhaps by now you’ve concluded or at least gotten the idea that there’s something about who I am that made a blog post like this completely mandatory, and you would be right.

I think that there are many facets to a human life. If you’re lucky, you touch a few facets of one other’s, and if even luckier, you touch many, deeply, and you never, ever forget it. And then if a time should come one day, you do some good with your remembrances.

Rest in Peace, Gaëlle Beyou. May your family and friends find some peace on Earth, even in the knowledge that you’re not out here trying your best to make your mark on it any longer. In the too short time that you had, you marked it well, and touched it more than you ever knew.

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Thanks to my wife Beatrice, who has not only put up with my occasional fond remembrances of Gaëlle over the years, but has been very understanding and supportive in this time of bitter sorrow.

Update 9/18/11: While I’m grateful to the roughly 40 commenters who expressed sorrow and condolence, I felt that on balance they were a distraction too focussed on “my loss,” which was not the purpose of this tribute. I know everyone’s heart was and is in the right place, but the focus I want to present going forward is that she lost. She lost her one and only life at 43. Nothing and no one’s loss can come close to comparing to that extreme injustice. I have deleted all comments except the one from her son. I’m happy to receive any further comments via email, particularly from friends and family of Gaëlle.

~~~

[Traduction en français par un ami bilingue qui travaille dans la direction de la traduction de la Commission à Luxembourg.]

Un hommage: Gaëlle Beyou 1967 – 2010

Quelle qu’en soit la cause, il est trop tôt de mourir à l’âge de 43 ans.

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Une excursion de week-end à Saint Tropez; été, 1990

Lundi dernier, l’après midi, buvant, sans raison particulière, un petit verre sur mon patio, trafiquotant avec mon iPad, je décidais, sur un coup de tête, de “Googler” le nom de Gaëlle. Je l’avais déjà fait auparavant, il y a plusieurs années déjà, sans résultat. Je suppose que je me vois comme un “gardien terrien”, surveillant…pas de manière omnipotente, mais humainement, de temps à autre, que les gens qui ont compté le plus dans ma vie vont bien, quel que soit l’endroit où leurs pérégrinations les ont amenés. Et que poursuivre leurs valeurs et intérêts les rend heureux, sans préoccupation particulière à mon égard.

Et j’ai eu un résultat.

L’extrait de Google semblait prometteur: “Publications de mariage” accompagné de son nom, qui est unique, et je fus, pour une fois, radieux. Mais pour une raison, que je ne comprendrai peut-être jamais, il apparaît qu’en France les mariages et les décès sont publiés ensemble.

Décès

Gaëlle Beyou veuve Pinau, 43 ans, Tréflez

En moins d’un instant, quatre pièces d’information au-delà de son nom, convergèrent à forger une absolue et horrible certitude. J’en fus dévasté au point d’en pleurer. Non!

Sa mort, inattendue et imprévisible (survenue de nulle part, sans symptôme ni signe avant-coureur), était probablement le résultat d’une rupture d’anévrisme, comme me l’a appris sa famille avec qui je me mis en contact.

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Une séance de photos en cours de route

J’ai rencontré Gaëlle en janvier 1990, une semaine avant d’embarquer à bord du croiseur COLBERT au titre d’Officier d’échange de l’US Navy dans la marine nationale française. C’était dans la région de Toulon et la première chose que je remarquais chez elle, était son sourire joyeux suivi généralement de son rire. Cela ne veut pas dire qu’elle ne pouvait pas cracher du feu à l’occasion, mais ça, c’était pour plus tard. Nous avons parlé pendant un long moment, temps dont j’ai depuis longtemps perdu la notion.

Elle m’a posé un lapin pour notre premier rencart et j’ai pensé, bon… c’est ainsi que vont les choses & c’est la vie.

Mais le lendemain, lors d’un déjeuner officiel sur le Colbert avec je ne sais plus qui, je ne me souviens, ni ne me soucie de personne d’ailleurs, un steward m’informa qu’on me demandait au téléphone.

Ainsi débuta une tumultueuse – mais jamais ennuyeuse – relation qui l’amena à emménager avec moi quelques mois plus tard, discussions de mariage, liaison pleine d’émotions et finalement, la réalisation au début de l’été 1990, que ses 23 ans comparés à mes 29 n’allaient pas rendre les choses possibles en toutes circonstances. Elle se considérait à l’aube de nouvelles explorations dans sa vie, tandis que moi, après avoir vécu cinq ans au Japon et voyagé à travers l’Asie, j’avais dejà exploré la vie de toutes les manières possibles.

J’étais prêt à m’installer. Elle non.

Je n’ai jamais pris les rejets trop à cœur. Il y a une raison pour cela, les gens trouvent, au hasard des circonstances, des raisons de se mettre ensemble et lorsque les choses changent, que quelque chose se réalise pour l’un ou pour l’autre, ou pour les deux, il y a autant de raisons de se séparer. Je n’ai jamais considéré cela, en temps normal, comme prétexte pour accuser les motifs et le caractère des personnes concernées. Les temps et les circonstances changent.

Ainsi et heureusement, nous sommes toujours restés très proches. Nous avons même, sur un coup de tête, passé deux semaines de vacances en Grèce, sue l’île de Skiathos. Pour vous donner un aperçu de l’assurance et de l’indépendance du caractère de cette jeune femme: il est fréquent sur ce genre d’îles et lieux de vacances de louer un scooter à plusieurs. Ce que nous avons fait: je conduisais, elle s’asseyait à l’arrière. Mais après la première demi-journée elle était désemparée. Elle voulait son propre scooter. Ainsi pour le reste des deux semaines du séjour, nous avons fait la course partout où nous allions.

Des mois plus tard, elle m’expliqua que chaque fois qu’elle mettait les chaussures qu’elle portait là-bas, elle se rappelait le temps sur Skiathos, à cause des marques de pédale d’embrayage qu’elle portait encore. C’est tout à fait elle. Pensez-y.

Cet été 1990 marqua l’époque où l’on fut tantôt amis tantôt amants. Un créneau de notre temps et des circonstances qui nous convenaient à tous les deux. Mais l’Irak envahit le Koweït, le pétrole et la géopolitique, qui vont toujours de pair, était en jeu. Je dus partir à contrecœur – sentant ce qui allait arriver – un matin d’août sur le Colbert, pour ne pas rentrer avant 60 jours.

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On pouvait toujours facilement deviner quand il fallait lui fiche la paix

Les choses sont différentes pour les personnes restées à terre. Ceux qui sont en mer se languissent des personnes qu’ils ont laissées à terre. Ceux restés à terre ont bien plus d’options et ce n’est pas leur faute s’ils les poursuivent.

Mon retour de cette excursion marqua définitivement la fin pour le “Gaëlle et moi”. Et pourtant nous sommes toujours restés amis, même après des mois sans nouvelles. Elle a fini par retourner avec l’homme de son âge qu’elle fréquentait déjà avant que je ne la rencontre, et qu’elle épousa finalement. Je l’ai connu longtemps. Il était aussi sur le Colbert. Nous sommes devenus de bons potes et il y eut même des occasions où il m’invita à appeler Gaëlle, pour lui remonter le moral, à propos de ceci ou de cela.

Il périt tragiquement moins d’un an après mon départ de France en 1992. Et voici donc la pièce d’information qui m’en donna la certitude définitive lundi dernier: “veuve Pinau.”

…Elle rencontra Pierre, un ingénieur avec une éducation impeccable, tête bien vissée sur ses épaules, bonne famille… des gens de la terre, de la bonne nourriture et de la vie. Le 4 juillet 1993 elle…ils… eurent un garçon. Je leur ai rendu visite pour une semaine en décembre 1993, en tant qu’invité, à la ferme de ses parents et à leur domicile. J’ai pu profiter de l’authentique hospitalité française qui m’avait manqué pendant ces deux années d’absence: des plats fantastiques tous les jours et les fruits de la ferme sous la forme de vin.

De temps en temps les Américains ont besoin de s’éloigner de l’Amérique.

Bien que j’étais toujours touché par cette femme de bien des manières, je devais laisser courir. Il y avait un fils dont il fallait s’occuper, un père intelligent – je l’ai vu de mes propres yeux – je devais laisser les choses telles qu’elles étaient. C’était la dernière fois que je la voyais. Elle m’appela en 1996, c’était la dernière fois que je lui parlais. À ce moment, ils vivaient séparément, se partageant la garde de leur fils. Pierre m’a écrit hier, après que j’ai finalement réussi à le contacter:

Gaëlle parlait tellement souvent de toi

Hier soir, j’ai reçu un e-mail de son fils, qui a 18 ans maintenant. Il est, et c’est compréhensible, toujours dévasté par la perte de sa mère. J’ai scanné toutes les photos que j’avais d’elle et je les lui ai envoyées; et au fur et à mesure je lui passerai des anecdotes et des souvenirs à propos du bonheur que c’était d’être avec elle.

…Pour ajouter à l’affront de cette affreuse blessure, entre 1993 et maintenant, je suis allé deux fois en France. Une fois en 2005, quand Béatrice et moi avons fait un tour en voiture à travers la France, l’Espagne et l’Italie pendant trois semaines sans réservation d’hôtel. Un des endroits que nous avons adoré était Monterosso en Cinque Terre en Italie. L’année dernière, sur l’envie du moment, j’avais décidé que nous devions y passer une semaine.

L’incident de Gaëlle s’est produit le matin du 20 juillet. L’après-midi du 22, sa famille à son chevet, les médecins arrêtèrent les machines qui faisaient battre son cœur. Elle décéda dans l’heure. Nous atterrîmes à Paris ce même jour, approximativement à l’heure de son décès (le 22 juillet vers 11h00), pour partir vers Rome à 12h35. Ceci restera pour toujours le rappel cruel d’une coïncidence malheureuse, qui provoque en moi une sorte de culpabilité. Pas une culpabilité méritée, mais un genre de culpabilité “cosmique” ou humaine. Je comprends que c’est irrationnel quand quelqu’un dit: “j’aurais dû être là” ou “j’aurais dû faire quelque chose”, alors que personne ne pouvait s’y attendre ni savoir. Mais compte tenu du timing et de la proximité physique de cette coïncidence, j’ai une compréhension plus profonde maintenant devant ce genre d’irrationalité impuissante, inoffensive et complètement naturelle. Et je l’embrasse même.

~~~

Peut-être que vous avez conclu entre-temps ou du moins eu l’idée, qu’il y a quelque chose à propos de qui je suis, qui rend complètement obligatoire que je fasse un blog comme celui-là, Et vous auriez raison.

Je pense qu’il y a beaucoup de facettes dans une vie humaine. Si vous avez de la chance, vous touchez à quelques facettes de celle d’une autre, si vous êtes un peu plus chanceux, vous en touchez beaucoup, profondément et vous ne les oubliez jamais. Et peut-être un jour arrivera où vous pouvez faire du bien, avec vos souvenirs.

Repose en paix, Gaëlle Beyou. Que ta famille et tes amis trouvent la paix en ce monde, même en sachant que tu n’es plus présente pour essayer de la marquer de ton mieux de ta présence. Sur le trop court temps qui t’a été imparti, tu as ancré ton empreinte et touché de ta grâce bien plus que tu n’aurais jamais pu l’imaginer.

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Merci à mon épouse Béatrice, qui non seulement me supportait avec mes occasionnelles remémorations du temps passé avec Gaëlle, mais s’est montrée compréhensive et m’a soutenu dans ce moment de tristesse amère.

Mise à jour 18/09/11: Alors que je suis reconnaissant à l’commentateurs environ 40 qui ont exprimé leur tristesse et de condoléances, j’ai senti que sur la balance, ils ont été une distraction trop l’accent sur “ma perte”, ce qui n’était pas le but de cet hommage. Je sais que le cœur de chacun a été et est au bon endroit, mais l’accent je tiens à présenter à l’avenir, c’est qu’elle a perdu. Elle a perdu sa vie seul et unique à 43. Rien et la perte de personne ne peut s’approcher de la comparant à celle injustice extrême. J’ai supprimé tous les commentaires, sauf celui de son fils. Je suis heureux de recevoir vos commentaires par email, en particulier de ses amis et la famille de Gaëlle.

Is the Raw Vegan Movement Getting Healthier and Healthier?

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I’ve kinda backed off attacking the raw vegans lately. For one, there were a number of posts back in the spring pretty close together, many with over 300-400 comments each, and with that kind of enthusiasm for a single topic, I just didn’t want to overly exploit it — having the blog turn essentially into a failed vegan help blog.

And then there was the live debate with Harley Johnstone — aka “Durianrider” — of the 30 Bananas a Day (30BAD) website and forum (posts here and here, with 327 and 452 comments, respectively). With all that activity and comments and debates and on and on, I grew a bit fatigued with the whole thing.

In the interim, I kept hearing bits and snippets in various places around the Paleosphere that ‘it’s pointless to argue with the Vegan Religion,’ does no good, waste of time, et cetera, et cetera. “I never waste my time” was oft heard. In point of fact, I don’t believe that and have never believed it; for this religion or any other, or any unfounded belief or any other. In fact, questioning belief systems from diet to health to social systems, politics, religion and on and on is the way humans, cultures, societies evolve and get marginally better over time. The key is patience, tenacity, and intellectual honesty with respect to your own ideas and beliefs. All knowledge or, “belief systems,” have holes. Most have far more holes than the few. The Paleo paradigm broadly envisioned — equator to arctic circle and sea level to 16,000 feet and everything in-between — is one of the few that has fewer holes than the very, very many, i.e., all the other “fad diets.” This is simply a priori: it’s based upon the best science of evolution and anthropology we know. But it should never be dogma and there ought never be a single dietary prescription for all human individuals. We still have much to learn and will continue to have much to learn for a very long time.

Call it “the scientific method” crudely applied.

…Or call it whatever you want, but to return to the point of the pointlessness in taking on The Vegan Manace, I have never seen the value in advancing any set of ideas like “Paleo,” without also contrasting how they differ from competing ideas and when warranted (often), actually criticizing or attacking those competing ideas. And of course, I prefer ridicule because raw veganism for most people is simply ridiculous.

And so after deciding to back off, I got an email alerting me to a post and subsequent thread by a young man on the 30BAD forum lamenting how bad the raw fruit vegan diet had been for his body composition and athletic performance. That turned into perhaps the most popular “vegan menace” post I’ve ever done, with over 480 comments, 820 Facebook “Likes” and over 100 “Tweets.” …A 100% Raw Vegan Success Story. I suppose it was an oversight not to have put “Success” between quotation marks.

Before After
Before (left) and After (right)

I did catch a bit of flack from some commenters, emailers, and even the subject, Harout, himself, but only initially. Well, it is what it is.

And now, what it is is different than it was. I quote Tris from recent comments to that same post (here and here).

Hi guys. Quick intro: I’ve been pretty active on 30BAD for the past 18 months, and have been doing LFRV for 12 months now. It’s been great to see fat come off , more clarity of thought and I am enjoying the strength gains. It’s usually about this time that many people start falling off so I will see what happens.

I think durianrider has made a fool of himself trying to defend the cause at any cost. Obviously the differences in photos does not come down to flexing/not flexing, and that vague, distance flexing photo is not a “recovery” – both of which was durianrider’s main argument. But I’m glad Harout hasn’t fully recovered – considering the lifestyle he was living to create that body.

Let’s consider the actual 30BAD community, the people themselves. The entire premise of Richard’s post – that “not a single one of those motherfuckers is willing for one second to even entertain a whiff of a notion that something just may be rotten” – is pretty unfair.

Read the comments here and you get two themes: firstly, you can’t see any 30BADer showing concern about Harout’s bodyfat going up, and secondly: 30BAD is so tightly regulated and censored that no content challenging the “perfection” of a fruit diet remains on the forum.

Well… can you guys not put two and two together?

Any content on 30BAD that doesn’t praise fruit and veganism gets removed or at least totally chastised by one of durianrider’s aggressive tangents. So… most dialogue with Harout about this was behind the scenes. MANY 30BADers expressed concern for him and what he was doing.

Come on, give the 30BAD community at least a little credit… Look at the results of 95% of the thread – you don’t think the more experienced LFRVers would ask questions with cases like Harout and Kyndra? But these are done in PM’s, phone calls, emails and in-person because obviously durianrider has a tendency to hijack a thread when he has a cause.

Call 30BAD cultish and I would totally agree. If you want to question things, you do it on another forum.

Say that 30BAD’s message board… (totally under durianrider’s censorship control, largely under his social control) is an accurate reflection of the psyche of its’ 6,000 members, and I’ll tell you to think about this a little deeper.

Many 30BAD members (myself included) are often as embarrassed by durianrider as you guys are baffled. I like 70% of his advice and think the other 30% is really, really dodgy. It’s something we tolerate to meet people who eat the same way we do. […]

…I am grateful for the gracious, mature and constructive criticism you have given, based on what you have seen. The same goes for many comments from others here. It definitely helped me see the situation and the community with a more even light.

I know Richard your comments have helped many 30BADers look at the community in a more independent and critical way (and less like cult followers). This has encouraged a lot more personal confidence from members. You have done a great service.

The important point here is that I merely wrote a post that happened to resonate with folks, and they chipped in out of concern for a young man and together wrote almost 500 comments between them (as well as the likes & tweets). So while I’m grateful for Tris’ kind words toward me, the real credit goes to the community, who takes the time to read the blog, comment, and offer help.

And now here’s the punchline, a comment from Harout himself, just this morning.

Hello everyone. As Adriana requested, I’m going to post a progress report within the next couple of days. Been busy ’cause I’ve been back on the grind at both the weight room and basketball. Progress Is great and the fruit diet is history (stupidest diet I’ve ever done in my life). I’ll be around. Will post pictures soon and a written summary of how I feel as I shifted my diet.

Well whaddya know about that!?

Irrespective of what his diet actually is, what’s important is that he has shifted from a path of diminishment, to one of improvement. I’ll be anxious to see how he has turned things around for his own sake rather than continue down a path of self sacrifice in the name of a dietary ideology.

UPDATE: Harout has now posted his update with a video and pics as a comment on the original post. Go have a look. He looks good and strong again after dropping the raw fruit diet.

Let Freedom Ring! But How About For Reals? (A 9/11 Remembrance)

78 Comments

I’m staying away from the radio and TV today. If I’m to actually remember September 11, 2001 on the 10th anniversary of its shock & horror, then I propose to actually do that and not have it “remembered” for me by fancy images, editing, and tear-jerking stories of the remembrances of others.

I know very well were I was, precisely what I was doing, and who called to tell me to turn on the TV only minutes before the second plane went in — making all too obvious the nature of the horror that was taking place. And if that wasn’t outrageous and awful enough, there was that brief respite where you imagine that the worst is over or almost over, that they’ll eventually get the fires out…only to have things get unimaginably far worse and terrible in a hurry.

You want to know what I remember, what outrages me, and what I mourn above all else? It’s the juxtaposition of the whole deal: 14th century, dirt scratching savages using the technology of science, freedom and industry to take out a symbol of what makes that technology, freedom and industry all go round: the free trade of value for value.

September 11, 2001 serves as a bitter reminder to me that America wasn’t free before, and is less and less free each day I count since. Moreover, when the vandalism of symbols representing the freedom to produce and trade the fruits of your labor on terms of your own choosing is met almost exclusively by cheerleading for masters and their troops, I fear all is lost.

Then there’s these, too:

So you’ll excuse me if I’m not all weepy, hauling out the good ‘ole “Red, White and Blue.” I’m an asshole in that way. And while I certainly do mourn the entire tragedy and those who lost lives and loved ones in it, I morn far more the quotidian loss of freedom and livelihood you’ll find as close to home as the local lemonade stand and in the rest of those links above.

And then there’s this great and comprehensive post by the folks over at “The Primal Challenge.” They’ve titled the post CHICAGO OUTRAGE: Switch from real strawberries to corn syrup, or get shut down, but in actuality, it covers far more than that in terms of the latest war being conducted on peaceful and productive American people by their masters and domestic troops: The War on Real Food.

You should go over and read the whole thing. Discussion in comments is welcome, and if you’re bold enough, Tweets, Likes and submissions are certainly welcome and might get some of the celebrants to think a little deeper, today.

There’s plenty of dead to mourn today, I agree. But let’s also carve out a place to mourn the virtual death of freedom, self-determination and small trade.

The Bullshit Archives

36 Comments

It’s reasonably clear to me that I have a good turnover in readers.

I should expect that. I do expect that. While there are always those few who send me emails, letting me know that they’ve been loyal readers since even the pre-paleo days, even before I made this place exclusively Paleo friendly, there are hundreds upon hundreds per month who get here via Google, links form other blogs, or whatever, and soon decide that I am not for them. Some stick around and stats stay about the same.

I’ll never do “The 10 ways to [insert bullshit]” posts. Ever.

What I will always do is, number one, celebrate success and, number two, dump a pile of smelly shit on those holding you back.

From the archives, my BULLSHIT! series. I tried to redo these, get ’em on YouTube, but for some reason, the video and audio is a couple of seconds out of sync, even if I go back to the original import in iMovie. Well, I wish Steve well anyway. I’ll just use the original Vimeo renderings.

I’m posting this because I’m going to be reviving the series. I still have the original batteries in the BULLSHIT horn and the warning light still blinks. If you remember, here’s a revisit, if you want. And if you’re new, here’s how ‘debaucherous’ it can get around here.

Bullshit #1 from Richard Nikoley on Vimeo.

BULLSHIT! from Richard Nikoley on Vimeo.

I know I’ve disappointed so many of you in the past, but I’m just not good at giving head to a fire hose. I got overwhelmed and so did nothing. But I have been reengineering my work life of late and BULLSHIT! is really one of the things I’m passionate about reviving.

So send me your BULLSHIT!

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