“Our enemies are innovative and resourceful, and so are we. They never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people, and neither do we.” - George W. Bush

Thursday, January 18, 2018

Truth to Marxist militant feminist dogma

Jordan Peterson debate on the gender pay gap, campus protests and postmodernism

"To be able to think, you have to risk being offensive."

A professor's refusal to use gender-neutral pronouns, and the vicious campus war that followed

On September 27, University of Toronto psychology professor Jordan Peterson posted a video titled Professor Against Political Correctness on his YouTube channel. The lecture, the first in a three-part series recorded in Peterson’s home office, was inspired by two recent events that he said made him nervous. The first was the introduction of Bill C-16, a federal amendment to the Canadian Human Rights Act and Criminal Code that would add gender identity and gender expression to the list of prohibited grounds for discrimination. Peterson’s second concern was that U of T’s human resources department would soon make anti-bias and anti-discrimination training mandatory for its staff—training he believed to be ineffective, coercive and politically motivated. “I know something about the way that totalitarian, authoritarian political states develop,” Peterson said in the first video, “and I can’t help but think I’m seeing a fair bit of that right now.”
Other profs in his position might have written op-eds, circulated petitions or negotiated with university officials. But Peterson is a big believer in the power of YouTube—“a Gutenberg revolution for speech,” he calls it—and, as it turns out, he had a lot to get off his chest. He carpet-bombed Marxists (“no better than Nazis”), the Ontario Human Rights Commission (“perhaps the biggest enemy of freedom currently extant in Canada”), the Black Liberation Collective (“they have no legitimacy among the people they purport to represent”) and HR departments in general (“the most pathological elements in large organizations”).

Peterson also said he would absolutely not comply with the implied diktat of Bill C-16, which could make the refusal to refer to people by the pronouns of their choice an actionable form of harassment. He believes the idea of a non-binary gender spectrum is specious and he dismisses as nonsensical the raft of gender-neutral pronouns that transgender people have adopted—ze, vis, hir, and the singular use of they, them and their. “I don’t recognize another person’s right to determine what pronouns I use to address them,” he said grimly. “I think they’re connected to an underground apparatus of radical left political motivations. I think uttering those words makes me a tool of those motivations. And I’m going to try and be a tool of my own motivations as clearly as I can articulate them and not the mouthpiece of some murderous ideology.”

A good number of reasonable people are also skeptical about the newly developed assortment of personal pronouns. How will all the new pronouns work in practice? How will we know what to call someone? And can people call themselves whatever they wish? This is new territory where the usual maps don’t apply, where some of the tiniest words in the English language can cause offence. But it’s a problem that, to my mind, can be resolved with little difficulty—just ask people what they want to be called. It’s not so different from learning how to correctly pronounce a name that’s foreign to you. Peterson seized on the pronoun issue, above all other free-speech-related matters that bother him, because it’s an effective dog whistle. It underscores the lengths to which people will go in the name of political correctness while exposing and exploiting the anxiety that already exists around trans culture.

Within days of going live, Professor Against Political Correctness had created the most intense campus firestorm since the University of Western Ontario psychology professor and race scientist Philippe Rushton whipped out his measuring tape. To many in the trans community, Peterson was a middle-age, white, tenured university professor—the very embodiment of patriarchal privilege—who was denying their existence, tacitly inciting prejudice and targeting an already vulnerable group to make a questionable theoretical argument. He was called a bigot, a racist, a relic.

On October 3, Peterson received two letters from U of T: one from the undergraduate chair of the psychology department, Susanne Ferber, and the other from David Cameron, the dean of arts and sciences. Both urged him to stop repeating the statements he’d made in the videos and comply with applicable human rights law. Student groups demanded Peterson apologize and take the videos down. Several of Peterson’s fellow faculty members castigated him on TV and online. A trans non-binary physics prof named A. W. Peet tweeted: “Jordan Peterson is an over-privileged blowhard who needs to grow some humility.” LGBT students said that, in the wake of Peterson’s videos, they were threatened and doxxed (their addresses and phone numbers published online). Peterson said his office door was glued shut by vandals.
In October, when Peterson delivered an open-air lecture on free speech, his opponents blasted static through the speakers. One audience member grabbed another by the throat 
Students on both sides of the argument took to the streets—or, at least, to the steps of Sidney Smith Hall. In early October, non-binary activists held a rally. A few days later, Peterson supporters organized their own rally, during which their opponents tried to drown out speakers with a white-noise machine. After scuffles between the two camps, a trans student was charged with assault.

The hostilities continued to play out for months in the media. Peterson gleefully watched his YouTube subscribers swell to more than 100,000. On his personal website, he linked to every one of the 180 articles published about him and the controversy he had launched. Peterson had already enjoyed a cultish following among U of T students. Now his fan club expanded to include a cadre of big-name columnists—Margaret Wente, Christie Blatchford, Conrad Black—and a chorus of vocal online extremists: 4chan and Reddit trolls; UK Independence Party supporters; Gavin McInnes, the Vice co-founder and head of the Brooklyn-based misogynist libertarian group Proud Boys. The attention seemed to embolden Peterson. On a panel on The Agenda, where he’d been a pundit for years, he vowed he would go on a hunger strike before letting other people put words in his mouth.

In his fervent opinion, the issue wasn’t pronouns, per se. It was much bigger than that. It was truth itself. Being told what to say—and by the government no less—was just one more step along the slippery slope to tyranny. The way Peterson tells it, the only thing standing between us and a full-blown fascist insurrection was him.

The spectre of political correctness has loomed over universities since I was at U of T in the early ’90s. The term was used then to attack everything from shifting standards of language—What, I can’t say “Oriental” anymore?—to new academic departments like gender studies, African-American studies, and gay and lesbian studies. Conservative politicians and scholars believed political correctness had led to cultural relativism, a disdain for the canon and misguided affirmative action. They were convinced that the zeal for plurality ironically created growing intolerance and the silencing of debate.

The hysteria around political correctness today is not so different, but now the debate centres on the idea that students are coddled, over-sensitive and entitled. Designated safe spaces and the desire for trigger warnings reinforce this notion. This has all happened amid a radical reframing of race, gender and sexuality. Transgender and queer people have never been more visible, and major protests against sexual violence and racism, propelled by social media, have given marginalized groups a much louder voice. Both on campus and off, it’s never been easier for activists to confront authority. The result has been an unending series of dust-ups over free speech and power.

Peterson characterizes the “PC game” like so: divide the world into winners and losers, insist that division is the result of oppression, and claim allegiance with the losers. And though I think such PC game-playing is relatively rare and these scenarios are not the harbinger of doom that Peterson sees them as, you can find examples almost everywhere. A couple of years ago, students at Oberlin College in Ohio were ridiculed around the globe for complaining that the sushi and bánh mì served at a campus cafeteria constituted acts of cultural appropriation. It’s easy to mock such extreme, counterproductive pieties.

More recently, and more distressingly, queer film director Kim Peirce was verbally attacked by trans activists at Reed College during a screening of her landmark film, Boys Don’t Cry, for failing to depict trans life in a positive light (among other things). Closer to home, last November, the head of Ryerson’s social work department stepped down over murky allegations of racism directed against him by the Black Liberation Collective.

To Peterson, the patrolmen of the thought police lurk around every corner, most insidiously in the modern university. The academy, he argues, has been thoroughly corrupted by political correctness, especially the humanities and social sciences. “The education department is the worst of the lot,” he says. “It used to produce teachers and now it produces ideological activists.” In his courses, Peterson teaches his students to resist what he calls “ideological possession,” but his real work now, it seems, is to take those lessons into the wider world.
In early November, I met Peterson at his home, a cozy semi on a serene, leafy street in Seaton Village. The house is a warren of small rooms decorated with Peterson’s large collection of Soviet realist paintings—the immense canvases cover almost every wall—and bookshelves that Peterson built himself. He shares the house with his wife, Tammy, and their 23-year-old son, Julian, a web designer and programmer. They also have a 25-year-old daughter, a Ryerson student named Mikhaila, after Mikhail Gorbachev.

Peterson, who is 54, was barefoot, wearing a white T-shirt and jeans. He took me up to a recently completed third-floor addition, an unusual aerie modelled after a Kwakwaka’wakw big house and decorated with colourful carvings and masks by his friend, the West Coast Indigenous artist Charles Joseph. With its pale wood salvaged from his great-grandfather’s barn in Saskatchewan, it might have been the waiting room of a New Age spa.
The walls of Peterson’s Seaton Village home are covered in Soviet art. He believes Trump won because the Democrats played identity politics and abandoned the working class 
Peterson sat in an armchair between a pair of floor-to-ceiling totem poles and spoke, almost without pause, for an hour and a half, as if I knew everything and nothing about what he was saying. He likes to joke that his voice resembles Kermit the Frog’s, and it does, kind of—if the Muppet had taken elocution lessons at a Vulcan finishing school. On the many TV appearances Peterson made in the months after the YouTube lectures, he was uniformly dour, unapologetic and supercilious. The person I met was not much different. Without prompting, he raged, with operatic scattergun anger against postmodernism, Marxists and—his favourite bogeymen—“social justice warriors.” It was the day after the U.S. presidential election, and I was still reeling from Trump’s victory. Peterson was unperturbed. He said Trump was no worse than Reagan and that the Democrats got what they deserved for abandoning the working class and playing identity politics. I was initially surprised—someone who spent a lifetime studying tyranny wasn’t maybe a tad worried about a president with such undisguised autocratic ambitions? But then I remembered that Trump, too, has long blamed political correctness for America’s ills, and reflexively used the phrase to dismiss any criticism he faced—everything from his treatment of women to his proposed immigration ban on Muslims. And, among many Trump supporters, “social justice warrior” is a favourite epithet used to disqualify his critics.

Peterson’s monologue ran on parallel tracks of provocation and paranoia. As in his videos, every compelling pronouncement he made (for example, how can you really measure racism?) was offset by another that sounded like a bad joke. He was bluntly contemptuous of feminists, something he returned to in a later conversation with me, saying, “The idea that women were oppressed throughout history is an appalling theory.” Peterson is no Trump, of course, and not even a Trump booster, but it was the kind of thing I could imagine Trump’s chief strategist Steve Bannon saying.

Peterson’s friends told me he can be “fun” and “funny,” and watching videos of him lecturing years or even months before the controversy, I could see he was relaxed and avuncular. But in the three times we talked, I think he smiled maybe twice. Describing his own personality, he said that he was “pretty agreeable, all things considered.”

Until he posted those YouTube lectures, he had been a popular but low-profile academic. He was born in 1962 and grew up in Fairview, a small town about five hours northwest of Edmonton. His father, Walter, was a schoolteacher and vice-principal; his mother, Beverley, worked as a librarian at the Fairview campus of Grande Prairie College. Peterson was the eldest of three kids, and his childhood was, unsurprisingly, bookish. He learned to read at the age of three, he says.
Peterson’s ample ego formed early. One of his first memories is watching Robert Kennedy’s funeral on TV and thinking, I’ll have a funeral like that one day. When he was 13, his school librarian was Sandy Notley, Alberta Premier Rachel Notley’s mother, and she introduced him to George Orwell, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn and Ayn Rand. He worked for the NDP throughout most of his teenage years. While he admired leaders like Ed Broadbent, he became disillusioned by the party’s peevish functionaries. He found Orwell’s The Road to Wigan Pier, which he read as an undergrad at Grand Prairie, enlightening: “Orwell did a political-psychological analysis of the motivations of the intellectual, tweed-wearing middle-class socialist and concluded that people like that didn’t like the poor; they just hated the rich,” he says. “I thought, Aha! That’s it: it’s resentment.” Anyone who set out to change the world by first changing other people was suspicious.

He finished undergrad at the University of Alberta, first studying political science and then psychology. In Peterson’s retelling, he endured psychic turmoil like other students suffer hangovers. He became obsessed with the Cold War and the nuclear arms race, and, for a year or so, was haunted by apocalyptic nightmares. He became depressed and confused about the world’s—and his own—capacity for evil.

Literature offered both solace and solutions. He dove deeply into writings by those who would form his world view: Jung, Nietzsche and Solzhenitsyn. On his website, Peterson lists recommended books, a syllabus he could have compiled, for the most part, when he was in his early 20s: Orwell, Nietzsche and Dostoyevsky, as well as Iris Chang’s The Rape of Nanking. “Trigger warning,” he writes sardonically, “these are the most terrifying books I have encountered.” Number 13 on the list is one that Peterson himself wrote—Maps of Meaning, his attempt to untangle the roots of belief-based violence. Peterson began the book at McGill, where he completed his PhD, and worked on it for 15 years. Published in 1999, Maps of Meaning is a dense and difficult blend of psychology, mythology, philosophy and neuroscience. It’s akin to work by Joseph Campbell, maybe, rewritten by Steven Pinker. (TVO produced a 13-part series based on the book in 2004.) Simply put, it argues that the essential story of humanity is a complicated, codependent struggle between order and chaos. He claims we are governed by stories and myths (or maps), and ideologies are only incomplete, misleading and dangerous maps. To some, the fluidity of identity is liberating and joyful. To Peterson, an unstable identity is an invitation for chaos.

One night when he was at McGill, Peterson went to a Jane Siberry concert. The singer reminded him of his old friend Tammy Roberts. They grew up on the same street and went to prom together. By the time Peterson was at McGill, she was in Ottawa, pursuing a kinesiology degree. He invited her to Montreal for Thanksgiving. Soon after, they moved in together. Peterson proposed to her three times before they finally married in 1989. “I thought, If I don’t marry Jordan, I’m not going to know what he does with his life,” she says. “And he’s going to be an interesting person.” Tammy still kind of resembles Siberry—short hair, pixieish, with a yoga teacher’s muscle tone. She’s as warm as Peterson is imperious, and she’s deeply committed to his current project. Peterson refers to her as his “executive assistant”—she handles all his media requests—and she even came up with the anti–political correctness stickers he hawks in one of his infamous YouTube videos: they feature the letters PC in a circle with a slash through them.
Their first child, Mikhaila, was born in 1992. The family moved to Boston, where Peterson took a job at Harvard, then Tammy had Julian. Peterson taught psych at Harvard for six years. When Mikhaila was seven, she was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis and started showing signs of depression. Tammy, who had become an artist and massage therapist, put her career on hold to care for her daughter. In 1998, Peterson was offered a tenure-track position at U of T, and the family returned to Canada. At U of T, he was a swashbuckling, beloved professor—students regarded him as a kind of guru. For people just figuring out who they were and what they wanted to be, he offered a seductive bulwark of certainty. “There are perhaps one or two professors you’ll run into during your career who completely capture and captivate you,” says Christine Brophy, one of Peterson’s current grad students. “And he was one of them.”

Peterson calls himself “hyper­productive.” In addition to teaching his undergrad and graduate courses, he started a clinical practice—he now spends about 15 to 20 hours a week with clients—and built a battery of neuropsychological tests designed to predict academic and corporate performance. He followed that with the creation of the Self-Authoring Suite, an online self-help program designed to walk participants through creating a sort of mini-autobiography, then writing what they want their futures to be like. Tammy served as a guinea pig. “I outlined eight goals that I had no idea I was going to outline,” she says. “But it puts you in a dream state, and, when you write your goals, they come from somewhere inside you that you hadn’t scripted. I told him this would be the most important thing he ever did.” Peterson says about 10,000 students have gone through the program, and it decreases drop-out rates by 25 per cent and raises GPAs by 20 per cent.
As busy as he was, Peterson was also grappling with depression. He likened it to being impaled on a tree that’s “dead and black and frozen.” Tammy threatened to leave unless he went on antidepressants, which he finally did. But he still felt sluggish: he was sleeping all the time—most afternoons he would collapse on the couch for three or four hours. Mikhaila came to his rescue. A few years after having her hip and ankle replaced, she’d realized that eating wheat made her arthritis worse. She went on a six-month elimination diet, at first eating only chicken and broccoli, and both her arthritis and depression all but vanished. She convinced her dad to try the diet a year ago. Seven months later, in July, he stopped taking his meds entirely. By August, he says, he was 42 pounds lighter, and his depression had been alleviated. Tammy was amazed at the return of his energy. “He was a revolutionary on paper before,” she says. “Now he’s a revolutionary in action.”

In 2014, Peterson began an academic study with grad student Christine Brophy about the relationship between political belief and personality. It morphed into a study of political correctness (or, more precisely, the politically correct). They compiled a list of 200 statements, including: “Safe spaces are necessary to promote diversity of perspective,” “Feathered headdresses should be banned at music festivals,” and “Police brutality is racial in nature.” They then produced an online multiple-choice questionnaire in which they asked people how much they agreed with each statement. They gave the questionnaire to about 360 people in an initial study, then to more than a thousand in a second.

Peterson and Brophy concluded that political correctness exists in two forms, which they call PC-Egalitarianism and PC-Authoritarianism. Simply put, PC-Egalitarians are classic liberals who advocate for more democratic governance and equality. PC-Authoritarians are, according to Brophy, “the ones now relabelled as social justice warriors.” Both share a high degree of compassion. Extreme compassion, they believe, can lead to difficulty assessing right from wrong. It also can mean the forgiveness of all failures and transgressions by people viewed as vulnerable. “Any personality trait to an extreme is pathological,” Brophy says.
Like most psychologists who study personality, Peterson believes there are five core personality traits—extraversion, agreeableness, openness, conscientiousness and neuroticism—and that these traits are universal across most cultures. The taxonomy is also gendered. For example, women tend to be more agreeable than men. The traits have both biological and cultural origins and, as Peterson is fond of saying, the biological factors maximize in places—like Scandinavia—that have strenuously tried to flatten out the cultural differences. Biology is, therefore, in a sense, destiny, no matter how much people may want to deny it. To his mind, arguing that gender is a social construct or a kind of performance or—as the Ontario Human Rights Code says—an individual’s subjective experience is just wrong. “It’s not an alternative hypothesis,” Peterson says. “It’s an incorrect hypothesis. That’s why the damn social justice warriors are trying to get it instantiated into law. They’re implementing a social constructionist view of human identity into the law.”

When such culture-war skirmishes flare up, university administrators have tended to confront the issues head-on. The liberal university is, after all, the exact environment where intense philosophical and political debates are supposed to take place. Last August, for example, the University of Chicago dean of students published a highly charged letter to the incoming class of 2020 saying the school did not support safe spaces or trigger warnings.

But U of T, it seems, just wanted the whole thing to go away. None of the professors I contacted for this article would speak with me about Peterson. President Meric Gertler’s office said he was too busy to do an interview. I spoke instead with Sioban Nelson, the vice-provost of faculty and academic life, who seemed weary of the subject. She argued that the university had no problem balancing its commitment to freedom of speech and its support for vulnerable groups or minority views. It was not an either-or situation, she said. Regarding Peterson specifically, she said, “The university has made it very, very clear, and has been quoted ad nauseam, that we do expect all members of our community, faculty or staff, to abide by the human rights code and to be respectful and supportive of each other.”
At a debate hosted by the university in the Sandford Fleming Building, Peterson ranted against the crusaders of political correctness. His opponents said he was out of touch and inflammatory 
Peterson, however, kept poking the hornet’s nest. He requested that the university host a debate so the issues could be aired publicly. After much hand-wringing, the university finally scheduled a debate of sorts—they called it a forum—at the Sandford Fleming Building on November 19 at 9:30 a.m. The auditorium was full, despite the fact that his opponents boycotted the event and organized their own breakfast elsewhere. Like the university, it seemed, the trans and non-binary community didn’t want to engage Peterson any further. Alex Abramovich, a trans­gender research scientist at CAMH who boycotted the forum, argued that the controversy was fuelling a lot of hate on campus and that he was afraid to lecture there for the first time. A trans law student who had initially agreed to speak with me later demurred because my questions, some of which I had emailed in advance, were “triggering,” and he feared for his safety, too. From an outsider’s perspective, this kind of passive-aggressive absence can be frustrating. It confirms the worst stereotypes about over-sensitive activists. But I can see their point of view: why should their existence be up for debate at all? Plus, they were already victorious—the day before the forum, Bill C-16 had passed a third reading in the House of Commons and was on its way to the Senate.

At the forum, Peterson was pitted against Brenda Cossman, a U of T law professor, and Mary Bryson, a language and literacy professor at UBC. Wearing a pale yellow button-down and cowboy boots, Peterson gripped his lectern like a life raft, at times making his points through gritted teeth. Picture a middle-age Clint Eastwood in a remake of Dead Poets Society. To bursts of applause, he rehashed the arguments that he’d been making for months. Cossman said Peterson had misunderstood the law, and that it did not restrict his free speech—there was an extremely high threshold for determining hate speech, she argued, and refusing to use the appropriate pronoun would not meet that standard unless Peterson was also calling for genocide. Bryson, meanwhile, said Peterson adopted “rhetorical strategies more common to Breitbart News than a university professor.”
Peterson talked earnestly about how debate helps people refine and adjust their arguments, but, by the end, all the forum did was remind him of his own embattlement. As the morning wound down, he stared sourly at the crowd. “I have been denounced today,” he said.

In the days and weeks following the forum, Cossman reported that she received hate mail and physical threats, so many that she alerted campus police. “I have no doubt that Jordan Peterson really believes in free speech,” she told me, “but I can’t say the same thing for many of his supporters. I have received an overwhelming number of emails that essentially say ‘shut the fuck up.’ I just think, You guys are all for freedom of expression but only for the people you agree with.”
Peterson, meanwhile, flew to California a few days after the forum, where he went on The Joe Rogan Experience podcast. When I caught up with him via Skype, he looked tired. After the forum, he told me, he’d convened a post-mortem with some friends at his home. A couple of them—academics he’d known for decades—had told him that, while they supported him, they thought he could be “more friendly” and “nicer.” The thought exasperated him. “I’m trying to formulate my arguments as clearly as I possibly can,” he said. “To get your words right is exhausting, and I don’t have spare capacity outside of that.”

In any case, he didn’t want to be nicer. Malcolm Gladwell, an admirer of Peterson’s, interviewed him a few years ago for his book David and Goliath. They talked about the big five personality traits, and Peterson told him that innovators and revolutionaries tend to have a specific mix of openness, conscientiousness and agreeableness. Crucially, innovators needed to be disagreeable. “If you worry about hurting people’s feelings and disturbing the social structure,” Peterson told Gladwell, “you’re not going to put your ideas forward.”

Last May, four months before Peterson posted his lecture series, he emailed the people who run the online courses at U of T to tell them he’d amassed about a million views on his YouTube channel. He thought maybe they could collaborate with him—give him a bit of money, lend him some production assistance, capitalize on it as an educational opportunity. They never got back to him.
Peterson didn’t need the university, it turns out. Through Patreon, a crowd-funding website, fans have pledged $12,000 (U. S.) a month in donations. The Self-Authoring Suite sells for $29.95 (U. S.) a pop, and he claims to have sold a good many of them. He now has a podcast, and Penguin Random House is publishing his new book, The 12 Most Valuable Things Everyone Should Know, later this year.

More ambitiously, he is thinking of starting his own private educational institution. His earnings on side projects are already set to exceed the $160,000 he makes at U of T.

He says he won’t retreat from his position on Bill C-16 no matter what, and he is willing to face the consequences—lose his job and his salary, be stripped of his clinical licence, be brought before a human rights tribunal. These are all possibilities, if distant ones. University administrators won’t speculate about what will happen to Peterson if he doesn’t back down, but the vice-provost Sioban Nelson told me the idea that tenured faculty can’t be terminated is a myth.
If, as Peterson insists, the academy has abandoned its commitment to the truths he holds dear, why not spread those in a whole new way? Like loudmouths on either end of the political spectrum, he has found a place—the Internet—where freedom of expression reigns. Peterson’s ideological compatriots are all over Twitter, YouTube and the comments section of his blog. He has a new army of adherents seeking guidance in a chaotic culture, and they are all too eager to engage—online and off—in the intellectual brawls on which he thrives.
“One thing about me that’s strange is that I will have impossibly difficult conversations with people,” Peterson says. “There are people who shy away from that. They let monsters grow under their rugs. Their marriages fall apart. They get detached from their children. They carry around resentments and unresolved conflicts. I’m not doing any of that. If there’s something to be discussed that’s difficult, we’re going to discuss that right down to the goddamned foundation.”

Tuesday, January 16, 2018

The "Dreamers" are a Nightmare


DACA-aged illegals commit crimes at twice the rate of young Americans, says a comprehensive summary of crimes and convictions in Arizona during the past 32 years.

The report punctures claims by pro-amnesty advocates that young ‘dreamer’ illegals are vital to U.S. industry and civic life, and indicate that any amnesty will ensure that many more crimes — including murders and rapes — will be inflicted against Americans and legal immigrants, including Hispanics and blacks.  
The report says: 
Unfortunately, if the goal of DACA is to give citizenship to a particularly law-abiding group of undocumented immigrants, it is accomplishing the opposite of what was intended. As Table 8 shows, DACA age eligible undocumented immigrants are 250% more likely to be convicted of crimes than their share of the population. Those too old for DACA status are convicted at a relatively low rates (45.7% more than their share of the Arizona population).
The summary of the report, titled “Undocumented Immigrants, U.S. Citizens, and Convicted Criminals in Arizona,”  says:   
Using newly released detailed data on all prisoners who entered the Arizona state prison from January 1985 through June 2017, we are able to separate non-U.S. citizens by whether they are illegal or legal residents. These data do not rely on self-reporting by criminals. Undocumented immigrants are at least 142% more likely to be convicted of a crime than other Arizonans. They also tend to commit more serious crimes and serve 10.5% longer sentences, more likely to be classified as dangerous, and 45% more likely to be gang members than U.S. citizens …
If undocumented immigrants committed crime nationally as they do in Arizona, in 2016 they would have been responsible for over 1,000 more murders, 5,200 rapes, 8,900 robberies, 25,300 aggravated assaults, and 26,900 burglaries.
The report was prepared by John R. Lott Jr. at the Crime Prevention Research Center, in Alexandria, Va. He told Breitbart News: 
The data there shows the convictions for everybody who entered the prisons system from January 1985 through June of this last year … It just shows that certain groups are convicted at much higher rates than their share of the population …  [roughly 75 percent] of the crime committed by undocumented immigrants or illegal aliens is committed by those who are 15 to 35 years of age.
Legal immigrants are very different from illegal immigrants, he said. 
Illegal immigrants are being convicted at very high rates compared to their share of the population. Legal immigrants appear to be fairly law-abiding, and are convicted at low rates compared to their share of the population.
The database used for the report does not describe the race or ethnic identity of the victim, but national data shows that most victims are part of the same group as their criminals, he said. Lott added: 
What tends to happen across all the different racial groups is that criminals are of the similar race as the victim … the crime literature [shows] that victims tend to be similar to the perpetrators of the crimes … Obviously, a larger share of the victims will also be undocumented illegal aliens.
Unsurprisingly, polls show that many legal immigrants want stronger border security. In 2014, for example, a pro-amnesty poll funded by Mark Zuckerberg showed that 78 percent of Hispanic respondents support “substantially increasing security among US-Mexican border.”
Asked to rebut likely criticisms of the crime report, Lott said he had seen few criticisms so far. “I don’t know what people will say — it seems like a straightforward set of numbers,” he said.
However, he noted that the report does not include any data about unreported crimes. “That raises the possibility that a lot of crimes are not reported … looking at convictions might provide you with an underestimate of the crime these illegals have committed.”
Lott’s report sheds more light on the 3.25 million ‘dreamers’ who would be the beneficiaries of an amnesty now being pushed by Democratic politicians, business-first GOP legislators, and cheap-labor business groups.
Pro-amnesty groups frequently portray the young illegals as a gain for the American society. Illegal migrants “embody the best of our nation,” Rep. Nancy Pelosi, the leader of the Democrats in the House of Representatives, said in December.
But that pitch is contradicted by Lott’s crime data, by the self-reported earnings of the migrants, their very poor education [less than 2 percent have college degrees) and by the very beneficial economic impact for Americans of excluding illegal immigrants.
In Arizona, for example, labor and immigration reforms began in 2004, and the state’s population of roughly 450,000 illegals gradually dropped by roughly 180,000 people from 2007 to 2012. Because of the 40 percent drop in illegal labor, the wages earned by Americans rose significantly, said a subsequent study by Moody’s Analytics. According to the Wall Street Journal report on the study:
The median income of low-skilled whites who did manage to get jobs rose about 6% during that period, the economists estimate … wages rose about 15% for Arizona farmworkers and about 10% for construction between 2010 and 2014 … Some employers say their need for workers has increased since then, leading them to boost wages more rapidly and crimping their ability to expand … graduates [at a federal job-training center] now often mull two or three jobs offers from construction firms and occasionally start at $14.65 an hour instead of $10 …  At DTR Landscape Development LLC, the firm’s president, Dick Roberts, says he has increased his starting wage by 60% to $14.50 an hour because he is having trouble finding reliable workers.
The departure of foreign migrants also cut the state government’s welfare costs by roughly $430 million per year, the WSJ reported.
The number of students enrolled in intensive English courses in Arizona public schools fell from 150,000 in 2008 to 70,000 in 2012 and has remained constant since. Schooling 80,000 fewer students would save the state roughly $350 million a year, by one measure … annual emergency-room spending on noncitizens fell 37% to $106 million, from $167 million. And between 2010 and 2014, the annual cost to state prisons of incarcerating noncitizens convicted of felonies fell 11% to $180 million, from $202 million.
Housing costs also dropped, making it much easier for better-paid young Americans to marry, have children and launch themselves into a middle-class life.
“It was like, ‘Where did everybody go?’ ” says Teresa Acuna, a Phoenix real-estate agent who works in Latino neighborhoods. Real-estate agent Patti Gorski says her sales records show that prices of homes owned by Spanish-speaking customers fell by 63% between 2007 and 2010, compared with a 44% drop for English-speaking customers, a difference she attributes partly to financial pressure on owners who had been renting homes to immigrants who departed.
The rising wages and loss of cheap labor also forced local companies to invent or buy new machinery that will boost productivity and allow farms to beat their low-wage, labor-intensive, foreign competition.
After Arizona passed a series of tough anti-immigration laws, Rob Knorr couldn’t find enough Mexican field hands to pick his jalapeño peppers. He sharply reduced his acreage and invested $2 million developing a machine to remove pepper stems. His goal was to cut the number of laborers he needed by 90% and to hire higher-paid U.S. machinists instead …
He says mechanization is his future. He continues to pour time and money into a laser-guided device to remove stems from peppers, which pickers now do by hand in the field. Another farmer in the area developed a mechanical carrot harvester.
Mr. Knorr says he is willing to pay $20 an hour to operators of harvesters and other machines, compared with about $13 an hour for field hands. He says he can hire skilled machinists at community colleges, so he can rely less on migrant labor.
Four million Americans turn 18 each year and begin looking for good jobs in the free market.
But the federal government inflates the supply of new labor by annually accepting 1 million new legal immigrants, by providing work-permits to roughly 3 million resident foreigners, and by doing little to block the employment of roughly 8 million illegal immigrants.
The Washington-imposed economic policy of economic growth via mass-immigration floods the market with foreign laborspikes profits and Wall Street values by cutting salaries for manual and skilled labor offered by blue-collar and white-collar employees. It also drives up real estate priceswidens wealth-gaps, reduces high-tech investment, increases state and local tax burdens, hurts kids’ schools and college education, pushes Americans away from high-tech careers, and sidelines at least 5 million marginalized Americans and their families, including many who are now struggling with opioid addictions.
The cheap-labor policy has also reduced investment and job creation in many interior states because the coastal cities have a surplus of imported labor. For example, almost 27 percent of zip codes in Missouri had fewer jobs or businesses in 2015 than in 2000, according to a new report by the Economic Innovation Group. In Kansas, almost 29 percent of zip codes had fewer jobs and businesses in 2015 compared to 2000, which was a two-decade period of massive cheap-labor immigration.

Because of the successful cheap-labor strategy, wages for men have remained flat since 1973, and a large percentage of the nation’s annual income has shifted to investors and away from employees.

Monday, January 15, 2018

“It is as folke dooe, and not as folke say.”

Sen. Rand Paul: President Trump Cares ‘Deeply’ About Haiti, Financed Medical Mission Trip

Rand Paul Eye Doctor
Dieu Nalio Chery/ Associated Press

Paul said on Meet the Press, “I think it’s unfair to sort of paint him, ‘oh well, he’s a racist,’ when I know for a fact that he cares very deeply about the people of Haiti because he helped finance a trip where they would get vision back for 200 people in Haiti.”

President Trump stoked controversy recently as he reportedly called Haiti and other African countries “shithole countries.”

Trump allegedly said, “Why are we having all these people from shithole countries come here?” The president reportedly then added that America should have more people from Norway and other similar countries come to the United States.

The 45th president repeatedly rebuked reporters on Sunday after they asked him if he was a bigot.

“No. I’m not a racist,” he replied. “I’m the least racist person you have ever interviewed. That I can tell you.”

Sen. Paul and a team of other doctors from the John A. Moran Eye Moran at the University of Utah performed over 100 surgeries over three days in Salama, Guatemala.

In Guatemala, Paul contrasted politics and medicine, saying, “It’s a lot different in the sense that here we see a problem and fix it.”

Reporters, including Breitbart News’s Matthew Boyle, as well as NBC’s Meet the Press, the Washington Post, and National Review attended the trip to Guatemala.
Breitbart News wrote from Antigua, Guatemala in August 2014, “Paul raised tens of thousands of dollars through various donors, including real estate magnate Donald Trump, to help cover the Moran Eye Center’s trip costs,” which included a $10,000 donation from Donald Trump.

Sen. Paul’s communications team confirmed to Breitbart News that Sen. Paul solicited a donation from Trump for the Moran Eye Center at the University of Utah to fund the trip to Haiti and Guatemala.

Sergio Gor, Paul’s communications director, told Breitbart News, “It wasn’t to Rand Paul foundation, it wasn’t to Rand Paul, it wasn’t to any of his victory committees—it was directly to University of Utah.”

“Well, of course,” Gor confirmed to Breitbart News when asked whether Sen. Paul helped solicit the donation. “It’s not a secret. And he [Paul] admires him [Trump] for it. But it has nothing to do with his political positions. His charity giving was honorable. No one questions that. In fact, it’s been under reported.”

Sunday, January 14, 2018


The Blizzard of Lies About Christopher Steele

January 12, 2018, 12:05 am

Christopher Steele was Hillary’s hired gun, paid gobs of money to dig up dirt on Donald Trump. Yet somehow this “brilliant” spy lacked the surveillance skills to know that Hillary had hired him. That’s one of the many whoppers in the released Glenn Simpson testimony in which Steele is portrayed as a “Boy Scout” operating from the highest and purest of motives.

Steele’s stenographers in the press invariably describe him as “highly regarded” and apolitical. The propagandistic omniscience behind these descriptions is laughable and amounts to nothing more than liberals presiding over a kangaroo court in which they can endlessly appeal to their own authority: we say he is “highly regarded,” so he is; we say that his motives were pure, so they are; we say that parts of his report have been “corroborated,” so don’t question them.

The claim that Steele was operating above politics is a joke. According to the British press, he was a socialist before working for British intelligence as a Russian expert — a career path that should stimulate skepticism, or at least curiosity, in a vigilant press. Steele was the perfect counterpart to John Brennan, who entered American intelligence after supporting the American Communist Party.

To whom did the “apolitical” Steele go with his findings at the height of the 2016 campaign? Mother Jones and Harry Reid. He also found other great souls of objectivity in the left-wing British press, to whom he was frantically peddling anti-Trump dirt. Now that we know how much he made from Hillary — she paid Fusion GPS over a million dollars — these stories appear even more audacious, since many of them were premised on Steele as a singularly high-minded and uncompensated volunteer. In reality, Steele was simultaneously taking checks from Hillary and the FBI and was simply putting out those stories about his uncompensated work in the hopes of making more money. It was the kind of racket that only a condescending British socialist could appreciate. (Glenn Simpson tried to keep this fiction going by telling the House that Steele “lives a very modest, quiet life.”)

In the kangaroo court that is this story, no lie is too great: Hillary can write about Christopher Steele in her memoirs without mentioning that she paid him; Steele can claim through surrogates he didn’t know about her payments; a Hillary-financed dossier, full of so many errors it might as well have been co-authored by Michael Wolff, can be presented as a reliable and disinterested lead; jaw-dropping bias at the FBI can be sanitized as “free speech” of no import for the investigation; all unmaskings and FISA warrants, ordered up by Hillary supporters, only flowed from the most dispassionate considerations; any foreign interference in the campaign is deemed “friendly” and harmless if it fed the collusion investigation.
Turn on cable television at almost any moment and you can get a glimpse of the kangaroo court in session: Andrea Mitchell, on nothing but her own say-so, declaring her buddy Susan Rice “cleared”;  former Obama official turned CNN “correspondent” Jim Sciutto pronouncing on the propriety of Mueller hiring Hillary donors (all very innocent and normal, he says in his oh-so-authoritative anchormanish tones); Erin Burnett, unnerved the other night by a pro-Trump congressman, insisting that Steele went to the FBI “out of concern” (how would she know?); panels assembled throughout the day to mull over the latest partisan conjecture presented as “breaking news.”

A week or so ago the kangaroo court had taken Steele out of the dock and put an unnamed Australian diplomat in it, casting him as the high-minded whistleblower behind the collusion investigation. But this week its rehabilitation of Christopher Steele resumed, presumably a defensive response to reports that the dubious FISA warrants stemmed from his paid work for Hillary.

Needing to turn Hillary’s hired hand back into a noble whistleblower, Senator Feinstein released Simpson’s testimony, knowing the media would treat all of his self-serving denials and exonerating explanations about Steele and his firm as the gospel truth. Simpson couldn’t have received more slavish coverage if he had bought it.

The glaring irony in all this puffery is that it rests on an embrace of foreign and tainted election interference. We are told by the very press obsessing over the origin of the DNC email hack that the origin of the Steele dossier doesn’t matter. The media’s hope is that the show trial will end with no one noticing that the only person in the race who purchased a foreign smear was Hillary. She was the cheater, not the cheated, and received a fitting comeuppance. She sought to win on a lie and lost on the truth.

The Next Chapter on widespread abuse of FISA by Obama, FBI, DOJ and the MEDIA

Glenn Simpson retracts claim FBI had a mole inside Trump team

 - The Washington Times

Glenn Simpson, the Fusion GPS founder who sponsored the unverified anti-Trump dossier, claimed in August and again Jan. 2 that the FBI has a source inside the Trump camp who lent credence to the document.

When a transcript of his secret August testimony was released on Tuesday, news headlines immediately latched onto the disclosure as a boon to a dossier whose core charges of Donald Trump-Russia collusion have been denied and not confirmed publicly.

Then suddenly, as quick as the headlines went up, some one close to Fusion was waving off reporters. Mr. Simpson had “mischaracterized” the source. It was not some one on the Trump inside, but apparently an Australian diplomat.

He was featured in a Dec. 30 New York Times story as the source who tipped off the FBI. Campaign volunteer George Papadopoulos told him over drinks that a Russian-linked professor knew of “thousands” of Hillary Clinton emails in the hands of Moscow.

How Mr. Simpson knew of the diplomat last August was unclear. He would have known of him in January when he wrote an op-ed in the New York Times in which he again told of an insider source.

“As we told the Senate Judiciary Committee in August, our sources said the dossier was taken so seriously because it corroborated reports the bureau had received from other sources, including one inside the Trump camp,” he wrote.
Moments after Sen. Dianne Feinstein, California Democrat, unilaterally released the transcript, the inside-source story spread, especially in London. The city is home base of Christopher Steele, the ex-British spy who wrote the dossier.
In his testimony, Mr. Simpson told of Mr. Steele’s meeting with FBI agents in Rome in September 2016. Mr. Steele told Mother Jones magazine he was trying to jump-start an investigation into President Trump.

Mr. Simpson testified, “Essentially what he told me was they had other intelligence about this matter from an internal Trump campaign source and that — that they — my understanding was that they believed Chris at this point — that they believed Chris’s information might be credible because they had other intelligence that indicated the same thing and one of those pieces of intelligence was a human source from inside the Trump organization.”

“It was someone like us who decided to pick up the phone and report something,” added Mr. Simpson, who said this person was not a Steele source, but an FBI one.
Hours after the transcript’s release, the corrections started.
“A source close to Fusion GPS tells me there was no walk-in source––that was a mischaracterization by Simpson of the Australian diplomat tip about Papadopoulis [sic],” tweeted NBC reporter Ken Dilanian.Whether the source the FBI supposedly told Mr. Steele about could be Mr. Papadopoulos is doubtful. He has pleaded guilty to lying to the FBI about issues surrounding his contacts with the professor. The criminal complain says the FBI did not interview him until January 2017, three months after Mr. Steele met with the agents in Rome.The story corrections correction caught the eye of Senate Judiciary Committee Chairman Charles Grassley, Iowa Republican, who on Thursday sent off a letter to Fusion attorney Joshua Levy. Mr. Grassley demanded to know why Mr. Levy did not correct the record after spending hours reviewing the transcript in October and November or contact the committee last Tuesday.” If it is true that your client’s statement to the Committee was a mischaracterization, why did you not attempt to correct your client’s statement as soon as you and/or he realized it was not accurate?” the senator wrote. Mr. Levy did not return a message seeking comment.
Mr. Simpson at first requested a private interview with committee staff instead of an opening hearing. Later, he demanded the panel release the transcript, which Mrs. Feinstein did.

The dossier was financed by the Hillary Clinton campaign and the Democratic National Committee. The money went from them to a D.C. law firm to Fusion to Mr. Steele.