We Must Carry Our Ethos into the Galaxy

Or, y'know, we could just continue to think and act like slaves. (DN 3.12)

Cover page | Preface | Introduction 1 | Introduction 2 | Introduction 3 |

(Part I) Why: 1.0 | 1.1 | 1.2 | 1.3 | 1.4 | 1.5 | 1.6 | 1.7 | 1.8 | 1.9 | 1.10 | 1.11 | 1.12 | 1.13 | 1.14 | 1.15 | 1.16 | 1.17 | 1.18 | 1.19 | 1.20 | 1.21 |1.22

(Part II) What: 2.0 | 2.1 | 2.2 | 2.3 | 2.4 | 2.5 | 2.6 | 2.7 | 2.8 | 2.9 | 2.10 I 2.11 | 2.12 | 2.13 | 2.14 | 2.15 | 2.16 | 2.17 | 2.XX | 2.18 | 2.19 | 2.20 | 2.21 | | Where: 3.0 | 3.1 | 3.2 | 3.3 | 3.4 | 3.5 | 3.6 | 3.7 | 3.8 | 3.9 | 3.10 | 3.11 | 3.12

---

Chapter 3.12
Claiming Space, 2

Discussion of space is a bit ahead of where we need to be. However, for reasons I shall explain, it is a discussion we need to have.

In order properly to preface this topic, I must provide a little personal information. I need you to know where I am coming from, and where I am not coming from.

Where I am coming from:
I like science fiction.

It started with Star Trek reruns on WPIX, Channel 11, in Orange County, NY, in the mid-1970s. Shortly before 6 PM, my brother, sister, and I would race to the TV room. The winner got to sit in the only truly comfortable chair, and that winner was almost always my brother, who was already something of a giant by the time I was eight. Our TV, unsurprisingly, was black and white.

In February 1976, we all went to a Star Trek convention at the old Commodore Hotel in New York City. As I recall, nearly the whole cast were there. It was quite the phenomenon.

For my ninth birthday, my parents took my friends and me to the theater to see a new movie called Star Wars. Mind. Blown. If you were a kid in those days, then you know.¹

And I have continued to be a fan of the sci-fi genre over the years.

In spite of this, I read almost nothing but non-fiction for the bulk of my adult life—studying classical-liberal ideas and philosophies, mostly. Then, at some point about six years ago, I started to crave fiction again, and was quite happy to discover the sub-genre generally known as “libertarian sci-fi.” It is exactly what it sounds like: future-fiction with themes and principles libertarians and other classical-liberals appreciate.

With such fiction, I can be entertained by descriptions of worlds I would like to see exist, and by tales of causes I believe to be just. And, as I have written before, there are practical lessons to be gleaned even from fictional sources.

Where I am not coming from:
I am not a sci-fi nerd.

My wife and I did not dress up as Princess Leia and Han Solo for our wedding. I do not have a Starfleet uniform hanging in my closet. I am not judging anyone who does. I simply do not go that far. I like science fiction for the same reason most people do: because it’s fun. It is important, as I will explain below, to make this clear.

No matter where humans go, we will be humans. Our emotions and needs and drives will be the same. Science fiction stories have the same archetypes as any other—it’s just the context that shifts. And because the context is in an unknown future, the writers have some speculative latitude as to places, peoples, technologies, and circumstances. This just makes it more interesting.

My appreciation for the genre is also based on a quite rational belief that we will one day be a spacefaring species—that we will eventually explore and occupy places beyond the confines of this planet. I am not an obsessive futurist, but it does give me pleasure to think about the new frontiers and possibilities that lie in the years and centuries to come.

Space is real

At this juncture, it is important to acknowledge the recent trend of skepticism about space. I now regularly hear that space is “fake and ghey,” and that NASA is lying to us. And I am fairly sure that in terms of sheer numbers, more people now insist that the Earth is flat than did in Columbus’ day.

I have no doubt that NASA is lying about something. (They are a government agency, after all.) And I think it is reasonable to suspect that we might not have actually put men on the moon. However, I do not believe that space is fake. Not even a little bit.

I understand why others do, though. We’ve basically had the rug of reality pulled out from under us. It makes sense for people to start questioning things.

The left had already been in on the game, eroding our sense of reality

• to a small degree beginning in the 1920s,

• accelerating in academia the 1950s–70s,

• spilling out into the wider world by the 1990s, and

• reaching a fever pitch over the last 10 years.

Then, in 2020, some cabal of global players, pulling strings from shadowy places, subjected the entire world to a regime of soft-totalitarianism and gaslighting that few of us ever even imagined possible.

As such, people have lost faith in governments, doctors, scientists, technocrats, ‘experts,’ and ‘elites’ of every stripe. And from there, it’s just a hop, skip, and a jump to a place where we question EVERYTHING they’ve ever said.

I don’t judge anyone for the doubts they now have. I get it. Everyone draws their line in a different place, but we’re all at sea, so some degree or other.

All of that said, I do not believe that the Earth is flat, or that space is “fake,” or any of that. Just because the world is run by liars does not mean that everything in the world is a lie.

Space is real, and barring some catastrophe, we will be heading there. Tentatively at first, as we are now, and then in earnest. I cannot say exactly how or when, but it is going to happen.

Why now?

This reality has massive ramifications for humankind.

If you are here reading these words, then chances are you know—or have at least begun to suspect—that all forms of involuntary governance are a morally impermissible scourge upon humanity. That our would-be overlords believe the bulk of humanity to be a herd that must be corralled, controlled, and culled. And that sadly, a good portion of our fellow humans agree with them.

Are we just going to carry all this into space with us? Are we forever going to believe ourselves to be slaves in need of masters? Are we forever going be treated as such?

Is our future just going to be more of the same…only in space?

How do we—as members of a fledgling nation of freedom-loving, sovereign individuals—feel about this?

I hate the idea, and you should do. But you should also know that unless we do something about it, that is exactly what is going to happen.

This may seem like a strange conversation to be initiating now. We are a ways off from any of this being an issue. We are even further off from any of us being able to do anything about it. And we clearly have bigger fish to fry right here, right now.

This is all true. But we still need to at least start the conversation.

Above, I provided something of a disclaimer—that I am a fan of science fiction, but not a starry-eyed sci-fi geek. I did not do this because I care what people think about me. Outside of my friends and family, I really don’t. (And even with them, I barely do, as my wife will attest.)

Rather, I simply wanted you to know that I am initiating this conversation now because I believe we have very good reasons to…and not because my head is lost up in the space clouds. I hope you get that.

Here are some reasons why:

#1 Where

First of all, just from a practical standpoint, we are in the Where chapter of The Distributed Nation, and space is a where. So we are talking about it now.

#2 Space does not belong to them.

As we discussed in our last installment, we need to make it clear that the places outside this planet do not belong to the governments of this Earth, or to the crony corporations with whom they are in cahoots. Original acquisition of unowned places requires homesteading. All sweeping claims of territorial ownership are illegitimate according to natural law and common sense.

As

Jim Davidson

points out, the major powers are currently pretending that they won’t make such sweeping claims. But we all know that when it becomes a practical reality, they will.

Yes, this won’t become an issue for some time. Nonetheless, we need to make it clear now. We need to lay down a marker in the present—to plant a seed and let it grow—rather than waiting until the fruit is actually needed.

Earlier in this chapter, we discussed the fact that your ownership of your property is, and by right ought to be, allodial—that is, with no superior landlord. In the next chapter, we will discuss reasons why it is important to make a claim of allodial title now, even though you will not be able to enforce and defend that claim right away.

The same applies here. We need to begin establishing the case now that space is there for all of us to homestead. It is not the property of the ‘elites’ alone, whether they be in or out of government.

#3 WE do not belong to them.

Throughout Part 1—appropriately titled “Humans, We Have a Problem”—we discussed the fundamental flaws with nearly every form of human political organization that has existed for all of recorded history. Those flaws are not going to be any more acceptable in space as they are here on Earth.

So, what’s the plan? Do we just flail about, as we have been for the last several millennia? Let them rule us. Accept the statist arguments of their court intellectuals. Play the part of dutiful slaves.

Or do we draw a line in the sand? This far—no further.

Drawing such a line requires courage and vision. We have an ethos, and that ethos does not stop at the exosphere. Natural law is everywhere. It applies to every being, in every corner of the universe.

#4 Think big

We cannot yet fully defend our ethos against those who would violate it. And we are not yet on the cusp of our leap into space. That does not make the ethos any less true!

Our ethos is the truest thing in the universe. It is natural law.

We should not cower. No fear. No apologies. Our vision must be as grand as the ethos that undergirds it.

Instead of a mindset of scarcity and fear, we need to think big. Not only do we need to find a way to end the involuntary rule of overlords here and Earth, we also need to ensure that that rule does not follow us out into the solar system and beyond.

Someone needs to have that vision. Why not us?

As

Jim Davidson

put it: “In order to live free on Earth, mankind will need to live free in the Solar System.”

We need to carry our ethos with us everywhere we go.

We need to ensure that our ethos gets to space before theirs does.

#5 Think long-term

We have discussed the importance—and power—of having low-time preferences.

Delayed gratification. Long-range planning. Prudential investments for future returns. Care for one’s body. Care for one’s future. These the the things that success is made of.

Future-orientation builds civilizations. Future-orientation builds nations.

We have lots to do right here in the present, and in the near future. But our vision for our distributed nation must also include long-range goals and aspirations.

Yes, eyes on the prize in the here and now. But don’t you also want to be a part of something bigger?

Yes, we have a long way to go. But don’t you also want to be part of a project that will be carried on by your children’s children’s children?

We can do both.

#6 Goals

Setting humanity free is a process, not a moment. It involves short-, medium-, and long-term objectives. It is a generational project.

Our distributed nation, whatever we end up calling ourselves, is united by the principles of natural law. But that is not enough to make us into a nation. We need shared aspirations. We need goals.

We want to set ourselves free. We want to set our children free. Yes!

We should also want to set humanity free, here on Earth, and wherever else we may go.

What does that look like, long-term? I do not have all the answers, but we do have to start asking the questions.

This is not a sci-fi LARP. I am not going to say that we must be the first to put a colony in space, or anything so grandiose. No need to get ahead of ourselves.

But we do need the scope of our vision to extend our into space, and into the future. That is how nations are made.

One goal we know must have:

We must ensure that our ethos—the ethos of natural law, consent, and freedom—makes it out into the galaxy before theirs does.

Or, y’know, we could just keep thinking small and acting like slaves. It’s up to us.

relics from when I was seven years old!

1. Note for younger folks: This was two decades before Lucas and Disney ruined the franchise.