A Call for a General Strike of the Flying Classes

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IN
A CAUSE WHICH WILL TRIUMPH

I
think it was the late Karl Hess who once referred to Atlas
Shrugged
as a novel about a General Strike of the creative
classes. In his post-Rothbardian phase, Hess sought to blend anarcho-syndicalism,
anarcho-capitalism, and general Don't-Tread-On-Me redneckism into
a coherent political outlook. That last item is not, come to think
of it, a criticism. Anyway, Hess's eclecticism was interesting,
but maybe not that workable.

Whoever
made the remark about a General Strike, it is a nice figure of speech.
I am proposing something much more modest. I am calling on my fellow
British North Americans to refrain from flying, if at all possible,
forever more, until such time as American airports are no longer
run by little Gauleiters, Vice-Führers,
party apparatchiks, and fellows whose names should be in the Venona
Documents. (Not to mention the pervs, squeezers, and frottants.)

GET
YOUR KICKS ON ROUTE SIXTY-SIX

No,
my friends, far better to drive the damned old car or truck hundreds
of miles overland than to submit to searches by foot fetishists,
bag pilferers, and petty nail-clipper thieves. National Sadism may
be the political fashion of the moment, but so what?

Things
were bad enough before The Day the Defense Department Stood Still.

About
two and half years ago, I had to fly into JFK airport after a week
of dealing with Koreans. Talk about the culture shock. Everybody
in Seoul had been reasonably polite. By contrast, nobody at JFK
rose above some legally mandated level of surliness, tempered by
inactivity. I wondered why there were so many bums and derelicts
in the place, until I realized they were the staff.

I
expected so much more from our high-toned Yankees.

Atlanta
wasn't so great, either. There, female authoritarians would yell
at you: "Stand there. Put that bag on the conveyer. Move along!"
On the other hand, you can always buy Mr. Farakhan's newspaper in
that airport.

As
airports go, there is something to be said for Salt Lake City. People
are pretty reasonable, and Utahphobes can rejoice in that, half
the time, they are leaving Zion. I was okay, either way,
except the time I had to pay double because I hadn't booked the
shuttle in advance.

But
those were happier days. Now the airports are Occupied Territory.
Occupied to what ends and with what outcome, exactly, it would be
hard to say, but occupied certainly by the malevolent spirit that
has possessed those people since at least 1861.

So
rotate your tires. Check the air. Get your oil changed. Hit the
open road.

SET
UP YOUR OWN NO-FLY ZONE. TAKE THE PLEDGE. BANKRUPT EVERY AIRLINE
BUT QANTAS, IF NEED BE.

January
8, 2003


Joseph R. Stromberg [send him
mail
] is holder of the JoAnn B. Rothbard Chair in History at
the Ludwig von Mises Institute
and a columnist for LewRockwell.com
and Antiwar.com.

Joseph
Stromberg Archives


     

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