LIBERALIS VOLUME ONE

LIBERALIS .

ESSAYS ON LITERATURE, CULTURE AND PHILOSOPHY

E X I S T E NT IA L I S M THE ANTIDOTE TO NIHILISM

VOL. 1

AYN RAND ON LOVE, HAPPINESS AND THE VIRTUE OF EGOTISM

GOETHE’S JOURNEY: ROMANTICISM TO CLASSISM AND A NEW PERSPECTIVE ON LOVE

CIVIL TYRANNIES: A WAR ON WORDS MINE FOR YOUR LIFE: THE CRISIS IN VENEZUELA SHORT STORY: MAN, ALONE FLASH FICTION: STEEL IS NOT AS COLD AS WATER

WHEN DID PUNK ROCK BECOME SO SAFE? THE CODDLING OF COUNTER-CULTURE

Liberalis is based on one core princple, that your life is your own.

Everything you read in these pages is a reflection of this principle.

C O NT E NT S

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Flash fiction: Steel is not as Cold as Water

Existentialism: The Antidote to Nihilism An Introduction to Objectivism: Ayn Rand on Love, Happiness and the Virtue of Egoism Goethe’s Journey: Romanticism to Classicism and a New Perspective on Love Civil Tyrannies: A War on Words

Mining for your Life: The Crisis in Venezuela Short story: Man, Alone

How Punk Becaame Safe: The Coddling of Counterculture

STEEL IS NOT AS COLD AS WATER Flash Fiction by Sam Revivo A young man and an old woman met by chance. She was crossing the bridge to be some place, he was there to end his life. She greeted him with a simple question, why? They spoke for hours about life and lost love. She carefully read him until her verdict was ready.

"Something has to go over. Have you heard of Chekhovs gun? No? Well it states that if a gun is shown in the first act of play, it must be used in the second. A gun is symbolic. It symbolizes power, the upper hand. This is no different, you see the bridge, and you see the water that it hangs over. Is the bridge a symbol? Perhaps not, but the water is. The water is dark and cold. It moves without moving. The water represents two in a diametric. It is the unknown and it is the knowledge of certain death. It is both. If you throw that note into the water, it will dissolve in the water, it'll be gone and forgotten. Only you and I will know of its existence, and I fear I don't have long left in this life. And one day you'll die too. If you jump you will drown or freeze to death, whatever comes first. Your body will be found and identified, and your mother will mourn and your note will break her soul in every which way possible. It seems you know why the woman you love despises you, you have your answer. If you throw that note into the water, or yourself, just know which one has the kinder consequences, and I trust that you do. But if you jump, you will have no answers, no conclusions, nothing will ever change again."

"I think you're wrong, about the bridge. It too is symbolic. It does operate on both sides of a diametric, you're not wrong there. This bridge guarantees my safety or my death, depending solely on my choice.

The bridge is strong enough to carry me, and it is tall enough to kill me should I jump. Whatever I wish, this bridge will obey and ensure my desired result. This bridge is my servant. Do you want to read it?"

"Oh heavens! No. Surprisingly I'm not the sort to deal in the macabre, the frantic scribblings of broken young men. I don't blame you for being broken, after all you have been broken. But I want you to read it out aloud. For your sake, not mine. Now turn around."

He reads the note, voice trembling, lip shaking. Upon its completion he closes his eyes, holds his hand over the ledge and releases the note. Slowly meandering down to the water, it dissolves upon impact. He is free. He takes a few seconds to gather his strength before turning to thank the woman who saved his life.

She's gone.

Was she ever there?

EXISTENTIALISM

THE ANTIDOTE TO NIHILISM

The human condition is a bizarre, terrifying, and confusing thing. We developed sentience and as such, the strangeness of our environment became a constant, noticeable perception.

This environment was filled with other beings, some we could hunt, some could hunt us. There were things we could drink, climb, tools to build with. Half of the day was bright, and half was dark. The night sky was filled with beautiful, tiny dots of light. This place was obviously built with us as its sole audience, some benevolent being was watching over us, designing every move with absolute immaculacy. This was home.

Everything was less scary and confusing.

But the older, and more sophisticated human civilisation became, the more we learned about ourselves, and moreover, our perceived insignificance. The beautiful dots of light in the night sky don’t shine for us, they just shine. We learn that we are not at the centre of the universe, which is much older than we initially believed. We learned that we are miniscule blobs of cells, inhabiting a miniscule, moist ball of gas. Our tiny ball of gas is a fragment of a solar system, which itself is a fragment of a galaxy that we will never leave, a fragment of the unfathomably large, totally indifferent universe. We will never truly know the full scale of the universe. Our brains cannot comprehend something of such magnitude. The universe is simply too big, and there is simply too much of it.

However, size isn’t the most troubling concept for the human mind to grapple with, it is time. More precisely, how precious little we are afforded. We live our lives, some long, some sort.

And then what? Our biological functions begin to cease, our corpses are consumed by bacteria, and eventually, only bones shall remain. The human that you once were will cease to be human, and in a few short generations, you will be out of living memory. Some believe there is a part of us which lives on, but there really is no way to find out. So this life might be it, and it might not be. We shall either live on forever, or cease to exist, and that’s where the story ends, as long as we roam this earth, conscious and sentient, we shall never know.

SAM REVIVO

This isn’t as terrifying a concept as it sounds, if you have no recollection of the billions of years that passed before we were born, then the trillions of years that will pass after you die, will pass in no time at all. If you pause, just for a moment, a split second, that’s how long forever feels. One day the universe itself will die, and nothing will ever change again.

This may induce a sense of angst, and you may find yourself asking ‘what’s the point?’, but this need not be the case. Existentialism is the un-scientific, subjective point of view to counteract the finality and bleakness of mainstream Nihilism.

What is Existentialism?

To begin, the first half of the 20th century shattered the institutional comfort of religion. The first half of the century saw little outside of war, economic depression and the meteoric rise of authoritarianism. In the wake of the Second World War, an atheistic nihilism grew in western academia, a root of this sentiment can be found in Nietzsche’s proclamation that god is dead, though the root of Existentialism itself begins with the Danish thinker Søren Kierkegaard.

It seems completely unlikely that trillions upon trillions of stars were made specifically for humans to gaze and marvel at. It almost feels like a cruel joke, we developed sentience and awareness, only to be made aware that we play no part in the grand story of the universe, we are mere guests with no greater influence, who found ourselves here by pure luck.

While a knowledge of science is important, the subject seldom makes our meek position in the grand picture any less bleak. If our fleeting time on earth is all we are afforded, it is scary, yes, but also liberating. If all life on Earth is suddenly wiped out by a solar flare, or an asteroid; every mistake, embarrassment, and awkward counter, will be forgotten. Every crime committed will be voided, every heart broken will suddenly be reconciled. If our bizarre, and seemingly meaningless lives are all we experience, then it is all that matters. The universe has no principles, no sense of right and wrong, no emotion or humour, all of these are contrived by mankind. If the universe has no inherent purpose, then we, as individuals get to decide what that purpose is. In the absence of objective meaning, only subjective meaning can exist.

One day, humans will almost certainly die out. The grandeur of the ancient world, the horrors of the Middle Ages and 20th century will all by forgotten by the indifferent universe. However, before that inevitably happens, we are allowed to explore ourselves and our planet. We can enjoy delicious food, gorgeous scents, stunning nature. We will enjoy laughter, love, sex, great literature, awe-inspiring movies, and each other. The fact that one can even ponder the meaning and origin of life is really quite amazing.

Though we are small and apparently irrelevant, we are not disconnected from this grand, enveloping cosmic arena, we are as much a part of the universe as a neutron, a star, a cluster, a black hole. In fact, we are superior to these things, we are the thinking, observing, sentient part of the universe. A star will never experience waking up next to the love of your life, a black hole will never read the works of Shakespeare, Goethe, and Wordsworth. We are free, so long as we understand and accept that there are limitations to our knowledge, we have barely scratched the surface of where we came from, how did we become conscious, and the most terrifying question of all, are we alone in the universe. We can find some answers, but some concepts will forever be out of reach.

One should not worry themselves with these existential questions, accepting the limits of human potential will liberate mankind, and may teach us to be kinder to one another, as we are all just as desperate, alone, and afraid as our neighbour. Instead, one should carefully consider what their own subjective meaning is, and live a life of contentment, knowing they are the arbiters of their own cause, to appreciate the beauty in that which they do not understand.

Go outside, and look up at the night sky, acknowledge that the stars do not shine for you, but you are still able to perceive them, and enjoy their beauty. Apply this to everything from the stars and galaxies outside of our own, to the natural world on our planet, accept that you will never truly understand what you are looking at, and the world shall become a less frightening, more wonderful place.

INTRODUCTION TO OBJECTIVISM AYN RAND ON LOVE HAPPINESS AND THE VIRTUE OF EGOISM What does it mean to be an Objectivist? Is it just an advocacy of Laissez Faire economics? A fanatical devotion to the individual? An instinctive aversion to Collectivism? Ayn Rand's philosophy is one of rational relf interest, rutheless authenticity and a fundamental faith in the agency of others.

The philosophy of Objectivism is rooted in two great novels, The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged.

Both novels serve as a glowing glorification of the individual. Howard Roark, the protagonist of The Fountainhead, is Rand's depiction of the ideal man.

Roark is both an idealist and a pragmatist, who shuns the Architectural establishment to erect provokative modernist structures. The establishment, who cherish the classical style as gospel, set out to destroy Roark, one such establishment member is Ellsworth Toohey, the personification of Collectivist and altruistic ideals.

Rand places her philosophy in direct opposition to the doctrine of altruism. Rand perceives altruism as a methodology of control and condescension which denies an individual the agency to achieve happiness on their own.

Many moral philosophers have asserted that one should blindly love their fellow man, without standard or self-interest, Rand counters this position with a simple scenario. Imagine a husband telling his wife that he is with her for her own sake. He does not attain any selfish benefit from the relationship, and as such does not love her. Yet he is so selfless that he is with her anyway, he is bound by the

SAM REVIVO forces of altruism. Rand asserts that when one is asked to love everyone, one loves no one.

When one is required to love any one, regardless of whether or not they have value or virtue, one is required to abandon themself in favour of servitude to others.

Though Rand's approach makes love almost sound like a businews deal, it is of sorts. Every deal has its own currency, and in love, the currency is virtue. You do not love someone because of their service to you, or yours to them, you love them for their values and idiosyncrasies.

We’ve been taught from an early age to strive to be our brothers keeper. Rand’s rejection of this ideal undoubtedly stems from her childhood. She was born and raised in the early days of the Soviet Union, a time of state-mandated bloodshed, unquestioned authoritarianism and radical collectivism. Rand experienced Communism first hand, how a doctrine of egalitarianism led to the deaths of millions of people.

Instead of advocating a paternalistic system of government, Rand holds that it is unnecessary. Humans possess free will, agency and an instinctive understanding of themselves. We are entitled to happiness, all of us, but we must earn it ourselves. Though cold and unforgiving on the surface, Rand is fundamentally optimistic on human nature, consisted with the fundamentally pessimistic outlook of the contemporary Marxism found in the writings of Foucault and Derrida.

Perhaps Rand’s greatest polemics on the virtue of egoism and individualism come in the narrative culmination of The Fountainhead, where Howard Roark finds himself in court for destroying a building he designed but was credited for. Roark addresses the court in a speech which spans most of the penultimate chapter of the novel. Roark passionately disavows the doctrine of altruism for its repression of independent thinking and independent action.

Even those collectivists who conspire to destroy Roark find his buildings provocative and beautiful, despite saying otherwise. It is their prerogative to discard the individual imagination and creativity of Roark, while venerating the conformist monotony of Peter Keating.

So, I return to the original question, what is Objectivism?

Objectivism can be split into five core principles: Reality and consciousness are mutually exclusive. Consciousness is an individual experience, reality is an objective truth.

Humans have a direct relationship with reality through sensory perception.

One can attain knowledge through perception, correct formation and conductive logic in line with the Empirical tradition.

The moral purpose of the individual is the pursuit of ones own happiness. Rand called this rational self-interest.

The only political and economic systems that are compatible with Objectivism are those which prioritise the autonomy of the individual and laissez faire Capitalism.

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Ayn Rand died in March 1982. By the time of her passing, Objectivism had become a staple of Libertarian academia. Her successors, Leonard Peikoff and En Snider established the Ayn Rand institute three years after her death.

The stated goal of the Ayn Rand institute is to “spearhead the cultural renaissance that will reverse the anti-reason, anti-individualist, anti-freedom and anti-capitalist trends in todays culture.�

Through her fictional and non-ficctional, Ayn Rand set out a controversial but brilliant set of ideas. Her philosophy is seen by critics as cold and ruthlessly pragmatic, but the reality is quite contrary. Rand opposes Altruism, not through misanthropy, but though a deep faith in the dignity, heroism and agency of all who possess free will.

GOETHE’S JOURNEY ROMANTICISM TO CLASSICISM AND A NEW PERSPECTIVE ON LOVE

SAM REVIVO Johann Wolfgang Vonn Goethe has been canonised in the upper echelons of European literature, comparable with the likes of Homer, Chaucer and Dante. From Goethe, we can learn some valuable lessons.

Upon graduating from law school, Goethe entered civil duty, mediating disputes between the states that made up the Holy Roman Empire. While working as a civil servant, Goethe fell in love with the betrothed of a colleague. This troubling period in Goethe’s life was fictionalised in the Sorrows of Young Werther, a staple of Romantic literature. The titular character is a thinly-veiled self portrait of Goethe.

Young Werther falls for the unattainable Charlotte, referred to as Lotte in the book. Through letters to an anonymous confidant, Werther experiences the minuscule steps of infatuation; attraction, desire, frustration, and eventually heartbreak. The opening chapters introduce Werther as a quintessential romantic, he is an artist, sensitive, in love with nature, amazed by the innocence of children, beloved yet alone. He is warned not to fall in love with Lotte, but he does almost instantly. They dance together, take long walks, he becomes a favourite of her younger siblings. All the while, she is engaged to the superior Albert. As Werther’s tragic fate unravels, and his cries of unrequited love becomes increasingly disturbing, Werther can see only one solution to his pain, suicide. The charming yet heart-breaking novel swept the literary world, Napoleon Bonaparte even boasted of reading it seven times.

The solemn fate of Young Werther tells us that Goethe in his maturity was beginning to see the limitations of the Romantic prism, the fragility of love and the often sad endings.

Romantic love is alluring and addictive, yet it places us on the guillotine, kindly asking our significant other not to chop off our head.

Goethe gradually moved away from Romanticism, toward the Classical view of love. Classicism strips away the rose-tinted view of love, purveyed by the likes of Wordsworth and Coleridge, it is more pragmatic in its approach. Classical love recognises that, just like health and youth, love fades. Goethe’s new perspective valued competence, objectivity and empiricism over the relative immaturity in his Romantic worldview. Goethe did not turn away from Romanticism with a cold heart, or a lack of imagination, he deeply understood the appeal of Romantic thought, and by extension he understood the risk it posed.

By 1785, Goethe returned to the civil service, he was appointed a senior administrator by the Duke of Weimar. Goethe worked for the German state for most of the rest of his life. He oversaw the maintenance and modernisation of roads, civic buildings and a state-run silver mine. This may seem strange, for a celebrated pillar of German literature to spend most of his time in bureaucratic politics. It’s fairly safe to assume that the bleeding hearts and artists are automatically at odds with the establishment, but that is to apply a modern context. The ideas of Adam Smith had

not quite taken root yet, the system which allowed private individuals to alter their surroundings in a meaningful way had not yet been constructed. Goethe saw politics as the only way to save that which he loved dearly. Instead of announcing vicariously through Young Werther that more could be done to support the artist, Goethe could directly do so with his administrative platform. Instead of revelling in the beauty of nature, crying at its majestic feet in despair at its industrial destruction, Goethe could conserve and protect it through legislation. It seems alien in the modern context to associate any state venture with successful results, but without the hand of the church, this was the only way.

Goethe was a firm proponent of Empiricism, the notion that knowledge comes primarily from sensory experience. To Goethe, the epitome of this principle was travel. He saw travel as part education, part therapy. Around the time of his 40th birthday, Goethe grew weary of Germany.

The lack of warm weather, good food and plentiful sex were the given reasons. He travelled to Rome, where an outer journey was designed to facilitate an inner journey of self-comfort at maturity.

However, this journey was not as Goethe expected it to be. In his written report of the trip, he describes the eternal city was full of decaying remnants of the Roman Empire. Though proud and historic, these sites meant nothing to Goethe.

He sought something more salacious. His pursuit of a passionate love affair returned one name, Faustina.

Unsurprisingly, Goethes time with Faustian greatly influenced his other seminal work, Faust. The epic poem had been Goethe’s life work, early concepts of the story were written as early as his teens. It wouldn’t be until the end of his life that he decided it to be finished.

Faust is a learned man, a scholar, yet he is lazy and insolent. His life Is sterile and he begins to desire death. He is visited by the devil, named Mestophales who offers Faust boundless energy, eternal youth and exuberant wealth. Faust faces two follies; the first is a rejection of power, the second is total corruption at the hands of it. Faust picks the latter and enjoys a life of hedonism.

He frequents in bars and orgies, only to realise that all he craves is beauty and love.

Faust is a tale of morality. By his stories end, he is a genius who avoids academia, he adores sex yet he resists debauchery, he wields power and uses it for noble ends.

As old age loomed, Goethe continued to seek responsibility, love and sex. His final venture toward true love occurred in his seventeen, with a woman named Ulrika.

Goethe died in his home in Weimar in 1832. He was 83 years old. Through his literature, poetry and politics, we can all learn something from Johan Wolfgang Von Goethe. In the modern day, his contributions to European culture are seldom recognised outside of classics departments in universities, but if they can be taken on by wider society, we can all lead happier lives in happier relationships, and the world can become a more vibrant, honest and humane place.

CIVIL TYRANNIES

A WAR ON WORDS

H.K. RIVERA

What is "hate speech"? Are offensive jokes, positions we don't agree with, and every day banter now consider hate speech, by some arbitrary judges of morality?

Speech and The United States vs. the United Kingdom: As a concept, freedom of speech arguably dates back to Socrates. He said to his prosecutors, "If you offered to let me off this time on condition I am not any longer to speak my mind... I should say to you, 'Men of Athens, I shall obey the Gods rather than you.'" While Plato was busy writing dialogues and showing us that Socrates was advocating for free speech more than 2000 years ago, freedom of speech as a legal right did not actually exist until the 17th century.

The people of both The United States and Britain were ensured certain rights. Both countries grant freedom of speech, however in our modern society, speech considered "harmful, hurtful, or hateful" has been deemed, "hate speech" in much of Europe and in Britain.

This new world view on dangerous words has made its way to The United States also. There are many far left "progressive" activists such as Antifa and the 3rd wave feminist movement, who would see freedom of speech hampered to end speech they find offensive.

It is currently an arrestable and jailable offense to use "hate speech" online in the United Kingdom. There is an entire branch of law enforcement devoted to policing words on the internet. Many have received jail time over tweets and Facebook posts others did not agree with. How can this happen? Section 127 of the Communications Act 2003, made this policing of words and subsequent punishment possible.

An article published by The Independent, claims "According to the Register, a total of 2,500 Londoners have been arrested over the past five years for allegedly sending “offensive� messages via social media. In 2015, 857 people were detained, up 37 per cent increase since 2010."

In the U.S., many are trying to push for "hate speech" laws, however, the courts have ruled such

Today in the United Kingdom, there is an entire department of policing that looks for unsavory and

protects the right to free speech, no matter how much some may not like what is being said. “I disagree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it” – Voltaire. This quote is particularly poignant, considering the unmitigated war on words happening in the world currently.

While private business can make the rules for

rials on social media. It is highly likely that you could wind up in a jail cell for insulting someone on Facebook.

factions of the federal government cannot in The United States; the laws about speech are expressly written in the constitution. However, there are many who are now advocating for “hate speech laws” to be passed.

In the United Kingdom there was free speech was not expressly granted under the Magna Carta, it was granted 400 years later under the British Bill of Rights; however today it is all but stripped completely. The British Bill of Rights was written in 1689 and granted freedom of speech in Parliament.

British Bill of Rights granted wide-sweeping freedoms to British citizens, and became a document looked to for inspiration in other countries. Both the French Declaration of the Rights of Man and the United States Constitution, used the ideas from the British Bill of rights when creating their versions.

Now the question becomes, what exactly is hate speech? Hate speech laws in England and Wales are found in several statutes. There needs to be an expression of hatred towards someone based upon the following: color, race, disability, nationality (which includes citizenship), ethnicity or national origin, religion, sexual preferences and sexual orientation, gender identity. All of these examples are forbidden. Next we arrive at “Any communication which threatening or abusive, and is intended to harass, alarm or distress someone is forbidden” – Criminal Justice and Public Order Act 1994 Let us back a moment here, and look at the previous quote again. “Any communication which threatening or abusive, and is intended to harass, alarm or distress someone is forbidden”.

Intended to harass, alarm or distress? Rather vague situation. Now when you add in the communications as “Using public electronic communications network in order to cause annoyance, inconvenience or needless anxiety.” month prison term. If you call someone a “slut” on twitter this could land you in prison, didn’t like a political personality this week, better watch your language online, and that joke you posted to Facebook could also carry a sentence, if anyone feels annoyed or anxious over it.

Mark Meechan AKA “Count Dankula” was sentenced to jail over a satirical video of a pug belonging to his then girlfriend, now wife, which he trained to do a Roman Salute. This salute was adopted by the Germans in NAZI Germany during the reign of Hitler. The pug would salute upon the command “Sieg Heil”. Meechan was arrested, March of 2018. This arrest caused an enormous discussion as awareness was raised over the law; and controversy ensued about what is and what isn’t free speech.

On the other side of the pond; there are various organizations who are looking ban hate speech. It is important to note that hate speech in the United States is absolutely not regulated, in contrast to that of most other liberal democracies such as Norway, Sweden, The United Kingdom and Australia for example. The U.S. Supreme Court has repeatedly ruled that hate speech is legally protected free speech under the First Amendment of the slippery slope and causes more risk than the “overall good” intended. There are very clear laws in place that hate crimes, are illegal and punishable. These crimes involve bodily injury to another person based on race, creed, religion, sex/gender, etc. Hate crimes also include vandalizing property. To govern over words is an inherently dangerous activity to a healthy, and ultimately free society. Take away the right to voice an opinion no matter how vile it may be, and you are ever closer to totalitarian ruling. However that seed has been planted by the very vocal left leaning groups who do not want hate speech protected. When a group vocalizes repeatedly about how hate speech is a danger to society, that poison pill has been placed. Many who are not very politically active, hear the side that makes the most “chatter” and tends to agree with the popular pinion instead of researching the situation on their own. Most of the population of The United States has no idea that other countries are struggling with free speech and that we are the last bastion of hope for expression. They have no idea that positions in other governments include titles such as “Chief Censor”; if they did, more outrage over trying silence hate speech would be front and center.

How do we avoid the fate that other countries have fallen victim to? Simple, censorship not the answer. Once you can’t speak out, the other rights are taken soon after. It is absolutely imperative that at least one country on this planet still has the freedom to speak. This is how the others will rebuild their own freedoms, much like the United States forged it’s way, using the Magna Carta and British Bill of Rights all those years ago as inspiration.

MINING FOR YOUR LIFE

CRISIS IN VENEZUELA DANIEL JUNOR The video game revolution of the last twenty years has seen a rapid increase in phenomenon called E sports, in stadiums in the US to South Korea, young gamers win millions of dollars playing in competitions, however in Venezuela the reality of earning a living from Video Games is far different. Venezuelans have resorted to a practice called gold farming where gamers grind for hours to collect in game gold to sell for real world money.

This form of earning isn’t unique to Venezuela, the practice has long been prevalent in eastern Asia. The South Korean economy was given a significant boost when gold farming in World of Warcraft was all the rage during the early 2000s and is still very prevalent in China. More than 80% of the worlds Gold farmers are located on mainland China and it has become engrained into its culture to the point that the re-education camps for many of non-Han Chinese minorities are made to gold farm.

For a number of reasons the gold farming of RuneScape has become extremely popular in Venezuela, due to the economic situation in the country the local currency has become almost worthless and being paid in bolivares soberanos is almost meaningless, the blackmarket that most Bolivians have come to rely on values the currency at about BsS 25000 to 1 dollar, for context the monthly minimum wage of the country is 40,000 BsS.

For the past two years, Venezuela has been falling apart in a devastating and public manner, due to a toxic cocktail of poor economic management, widespread government corruption and authoritarianism. The state relies too heavily on oil production, and the people rely too heavily on the state, a delicate balance, which, when stirred by external shifts in oil prices, will destroy an economy. Such has been seen in Venezuela; spiralling inflation, plummeting employment, mass starvation and mass exodus of citizens fleeing what was once an economic powerhouse in South America.

The collapse provides us a bleak reminder of the dangers of a planned economy. One may point the finger at Maduro, or Chavez, but the root of Venezuela’s financial decline can be found much earlier.

The oil industry was nationalised in 1973 by Carlos Andres Perez, who also established a massive welfare system funded by deficit spending. Perez set a precedent in Venezuelan economics, which would one day bring the nation to its knees. A self-fulfilling prophecy of using oil money to fund social welfare schemes.

Naturally, inordinate power was placed in the hands of central offices as opposed to market forces.

The industry which made the Venezuela rich was now inundated with corruption, cronyism and nepotism.

In 1979, Luis Herrera Campins succeeded Perez, he instituted measures to control the currency exchange, a move which included price controls on every day goods. As falling oil prices devalued the Bolivar, Venezuela slipped closer and closer to catastrophe.

Socialist populism rose in Venezuela after a series of corruption scandals plagued Jaime Luinchi. This movement was led by the dissident army general Hugo Chavez. Chavez attempted a military coup in 1992, and Perez was ousted a year later. By 1997, Venezuela was totally dependent on oil. While petroleum accounted for 77% of all exports, GDP per capita had fallen 30% between 1975 and 1997.

Chavez officially came to power in 1998, on a platform of free social programs for the poor. Almost immediately, the remaining pillars of a free market were smashed to pieces. The workforce was flooded with cooperatives. Between 2002 and 2006, Chavez instituted hydrocarbon laws, price controls on food, significant land reforms and mass nationalisation. By 2007, 30% of the Venezuelan economy was in the hands of ‘Communal Councils’, and income tax was 61.7%. Chavez’ reforms did not work out as hoped, a 2006 report showed that up to half of the communal councils were performing below standard, or had been fraudulently set up to gain access to state funds. The hydrocarbon laws replaced people in the oil industry with genuine insights with those loyal to, and ideologically compatible with, the Chavez regime.

Venezuelans often look for ways to be paid in dollars to avoid their precarious currency, Real world trading has made it possible for these Venezuelan player to make money quickly and at a consistent rate, one Venezuelan player said that he would often make 5 dollars a day, far more valuable than the their own currency. This player named Jose explained to me how and why gold farming and become so popular in his home country.

‘The ease of the practice is what bring so many of us into the practice, Real technology jobs such as coding take years of education to master and turn into a profitable skill, due to the state of education in our country that’s just not a realistic goal for 90% of young people in our country’ Many of those that are highly educated have long since left the country since the beginning of Chavez’s reign, of the 1.5 million Venezuelans that fled the country 90% were college graduates and many more held masters and doctorates. A lack of educated professionals in the country has meant there has been a further decline in the education standards in the country. The Major universities lost hundreds of faculty members that were considered the next generation of professors, the number of maths and science teachers that the country needed was also short by 40%. A point that gets brought up often is the apparent rapid rise of the literacy rate that came to the country under Chavez’s regime, however, literacy rates in the country had been trending positively since the 1970s oil boom, The Chavez government claimed it had brought 1.5 million people out of illiteracy despite the actual number of illiterate people in the country being less than that.

‘Gold farming doesn’t take much skill, almost anyone can pick up the basic mechanics of the game and go play the game to earn in game gold, in the fact one of the positives you can say about the socialist government is that they have made gold farming more doable, our electricity costs and our broadband costs are almost free meaning that a gold farmer can spend hours and hours a day on their PC without much running costs’.

The low running costs is also a big reason as to why Runescape is so popular among Venezuelans, the game released in 2001 and doesn’t have the expensive specs that a lot newer games require, the older computers that are easily and cheaply available in much of the developing world such as Venezuela run it fine.

Although it certainly has its benefits, gold farming is by no means are guaranteed source of income for Venezuelans, officially the developers of the game ban the sale of their in game gold for real world currency.

It is subjective if Venezuela’s woes are because of Socialism or in spite of it. No matter what one calls it, mass nationalisation, deficit spending, cronyism and the abandonment of basic property rights lead to catastrophic outcomes wherever they are implemented. Yet, when there are hard times, there are equally strong people, people who find a way to survive.

MAN ALONE SHORT STORY BY SAM REVIVO I had a late night. Sat by my window like a guard with a rifle. Keeping watch over my corner of Carnaby Street, but expecting no one or no thing. Is this my future? Waiting for nothing?

Today is the day. October 28th. The day the world becomes unrecognizable. I see dozens lining up beneath me but I know out there are tens of millions doing the same, awaiting their fate with a tepid patience. They look little from my window. Little fools. They believe that at the end of the queue is salvation, they are all Charlie Bucket and they all have the golden ticket. I’d find the whole thing amusing if it were not so catastrophic.

The implant goes into effect at midnight. Some will witness their transition in real time and others will wake up on the other side.

The chair which has held me since 11pm was my grandfathers. Blue velvet with dark brown buttons. I uncross my legs and stretch them to be met with a sharp mixture of pain and relief from the knees down. My hand is sewn together with a makeshift bandage made up of toilet paper and duct tape. It is swollen and slightly numb. It’s 12pm.

With a slight limp I cross the kitchen and zero in on the cabinet. A bottle of rum lurks behind the laminated wood. It smells vaguely of raspberries.

Rum in my coffee. Rum in my orange juice. Rum in my cereal. Before long it’s 2pm and I’m drunk. Dancing around to nothing at all. A short and feeble knock at the door stirs me. I stare at the door wondering if I heard anything at all. A second knock, shorter and feebler. Is it her?

The steel door opens slightly and the sight of an elderly woman greets me.

She’s no taller than 5ft2, and looks to be around sixty-five. Her smile indicates an unparalleled sweetness while her eyes betray a deep sadness. These are the eyes of somebody who has lost something vital to her.

“Good afternoon sir.” She greets me pleasantly. “I was wondering if I could interest you in some books, I have some real classics here. Goethe, Camus, Rand.”

“I love Camus.” The words left my mouth before I could question them, I indication of my insobriety. “Would you like to come in?”

She smiled at me as if she were expecting nothing of the sort. My gut instinct is to be skeptical of any enthusiasm towards me, but she cut through. She stepped into the flat and moved toward the couch. Under her left arm was a small cardboard box, it didn’t look heavy until I offered to help carry it. I place the box on the coffee table and examine the contents. Twelve books, all paperback. I hadn’t seen a paperback book since I was a child.

“I haven’t seen a paperback book since I was a child.”

“Do you recognise any?”

“All of them.”

“I’m impressed. Your generation aren’t big on literature.”

“Isn’t that what they all say? ‘X doesn’t do Y anymore”.

She didn’t say anything, just smiled and nodded in a manor that indicated that I had taken the words out of her mouth.

I lay the books out on the counter. The Fountainhead, Anthem, The Outsider, The Fall, The Plague, Brave New World, Frankenstein, The Secret History, Notes From the Underground, The Trial, The Sorrows of Young Werther, and The Great Gatsby.

I picked up Goethe. This was the book I read after she left. I think it’s one of the saddest things I have ever read, but it made me not feel so alone.

“It’ll break your heart that.”

“It already has. He died for nothing.”

“What makes you say that? Does anyone really die for nothing?”

“Werther takes his own life as a sacrifice. He wants to set Lotte and Albert free. But he causes more pain.

They couldn’t attend his funeral.”

“Grief can bring people together.”

“Or it can rip them apart.” I said, looking up. I half expected a stern stare, the type my father gives me.

But she just smiled.

“Romantic love is a dangerous thing. It makes the mind truly abandon reason. It takes one to a place where no life at all is preferable to a life without ones’ true love. Goethe knew this, why else would he go from writing one of the most celebrated works in European literature to a steady government job?”

“Why are you selling these? They’re precious.”

“I need the money.”

“Oh.” “I don’t want to. It’s something I have to do.”

“Have to?”

She didn’t say anything, but the smile was gone. She looked down and twiddled her thumbs nervously, as if she knew she was making a decision that betrayed her every value.

“I’m aware that it’ll change us infinitely, and I may never accomplish what I set out to, I don’t have a lot of time. 15 years ago my husband passed, it was out of nowhere and I never said goodbye to the man I loved, the man who fathered my children. The morning of the day he died, I wrote the first word of a musical. It’s a life long dream of mine. Not to see a packed-out theatre, or to have roses thrown at my feet. I’ve never finished anything. After he died I fell into a whole, the world had lost its brightest light in my eyes. I owe it to that man to finish this.”

“Why do you need Lovelace? Isn’t inspiration a byproduct of the imperfect mind?”

She chuckled. “You’re an idealistic one, aren’t you? On principle I agree with you. However, it is not cognitive function I am battling with, it’s time. I have cancer. Cancer of the brain, and it’s spreading. If I take lovelace, I go with the doctors and scientists, I get the cure eventually, within a matter of days most likely.”

“I understand. What if you lose the desire to write?”

“I think the lack of desire will help with that.”

“Are you scared?” “Terrified.”

A long silence fell over us. After a minute, I turned to face her, she looked up instinctively.

“I’ll take them.”

When she left, I sat on the floor with my back against the door. I had given her 250 units, enough for the implant. The bottles of whiskey and vodka catch my eye from across the room. They are the only things in this flat capable of raising me to my feet. It’s 5pm.

I returned to the vodka and rolled myself a cigarette. More than a Feeling by Boston. I stagger around the apartment, drinking from the bottle. Muttering to myself between drags of the cigarette. I fall back into the armchair and close my eyes. They stayed closed for a while. Drifting in and out of sleep.

When I awoke, a striking tinnitus overwhelmed me. I tried to move and felt my stomach flip. Sprinting, I just about make it to the toilet, falling onto my knees I projectile noisily into the bowl. After a few minutes I’d emptied the contents of my stomach. As my senses crawled back, the tinnitus acquiesced and found itself replaced with something much worse.

A party in the street. People cheering, dancing on cars and signing along to the overly simplistic music playing over speakers. Intermittent bleeps and sirens form the backdrop to monotonous lyrics on such matters as going to the club and eating junk food for breakfast.

Staggering, I move toward the window. Upon looking out, the streets are full. Full of people dancing and singing to the tune of their own corruption. Dancing on cars, dancing in doorways. It’s 11:55pm.

My head presses against the wall next to the window, slowly rotating until my back is pressed firmly and flatly. I slide down and reach out for my tobacco. 11:56.

“Stars shining bright above you”, I mumble to myself.

“Night whispers seems to whisper ‘I love you’. Birds signing in the sycamore trees, dream a little dream of me.”

It was a song I was once sung when I couldn’t sleep.

11:57.

The switch will be flicked at midnight. I can hear the restless anticipation beneath me.

“Say nighty night and kiss me. Just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me. While I’m alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me”.

11:58.

As the last minute of normality ticks on, I place the cigarette in my mouth and light. Breathing in deeply, the crowd grows restless, a count down from 30 seconds begins.

I close my eyes and hold them shut tighter and tighter with every excited shout from the masses. “TWENTY, NINETEEN, EIGHTEEN.” My left hand is clenched so tight they begin to cramp, my teeth too.

“FIFTEEN, FOURTEEN, THIRTEEN” The end of the cigarette becomes moist from the sweat on my right hand.

“TEN, NINE, EIGHT, SEVEN, SIX, FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO……”

And, silence. The roar of the crowd is reduced to a pin drop. Terrified, I bring myself to sit up and peer out of the window. Everyone I see is standing eerily erect. Even those who were stood on the cars. Shoulders back, arms down, eyes facing forward. As if Medusa had arrived and reigned down stony vengeance on those daring enough to defy the natural function of man. After a minute or so, those on top of the cars descend. The collective forms two columns of traffic, those on the right who walk south, as the left walk north. Single-file, perfectly syncrhonised, not uttering a syllable.

It begins.

HOW PUNK BECAME SAFE THE CODDLING OF COUNTERCULTURE

BRAD WHITE Throughout the latter half of the twentieth century, it was as if each new generation had been possessed by a spirit of rebellious dissidence more potent than the one proceeding it. First came Elvis with his pelvis-thrusting and seductive allure that had teenage girls hot under the collar and their parents rife with concern. Next came the Beatles, those scruffy rebels from Liverpool who just wanted to hold hands, the dirty buggers! The mothers and fathers of the time should've been counting their blessings however as soon came the likes of Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath and Judas Priest.

Will no one think of the children?!

Timmy, no, don't put that on vinyl on reverse, Satan will tell you we're out of milk and you need to go down the shops! Whilst it was true that each wave of counter-cultural rebellion, tied to music as it was, brought with it ample pearl-clutching from anxious parental figures, no movement succeeded in this as much as punk rock. Whilst progressive rock bands at the time were almost trying too hard to appeal to the classically-minded older generations with their Bach-inspired odysseys, punk rock said “No way, Jose!�. They instead came to your house, kicked down your door and played a two-minute song about sniffing glue before eating all your bread and drinking all your milk (Oh, Timmy?). It was never going to last though. As the myth of exponential growth shows, nothing can keep increasing forever and just as the edginess and anti-mainstream doctrines of music, art and culture increased, becoming more visceral and in-your-face with every iteration, the bubble was eventually going to burst.

Fat Mike of NOFX once asked the question “When did punk rock become so safe?” and, despite this lyric being from 2003, it's a question that has become more and more relevant in the twenty-first century. With prosperity being more widespread than the western world has ever known, it's become harder and harder for younger generations to find something to rebel against, standing to reason that if, for every action, there must be an equal and opposite reaction, then a lack of things to rebel against must also mean a lesser quantity of things to fight for. Not to say that comfort must always denote conformity as the mid-to-late nineties and early twenty-first century were absolutely packed to the rafters with middle-class suburban kids telling their moms to shut the hell up before asking for a ride into town so they could pick up the new Rancid or New Found Glory album, but now we've got the first few waves of the “You can be whatever you want when you grow up” generations filling up the 18 to 30 demographic.

For the first time, you have an entire generation of kids who grew up, more often than not, with their parents support in literally whatever they do. After all, look at who the parents are.

The disaffected and resentful youths of Generation X had all grown up and were determined to be “the cool parents”, es chewing the more “You gotta do what you gotta do” utilitarian parenting styles that they had been to subject to in their earlier days.

Now, you didn't have to go against your parents to be yourself as most of them were actively encouraging this, arguably leading to the further “mainstreaming” ofwhat was previously more independent and underground. You could dye your hair green, stretch your ears, wear your jeans around your backside

and go see Slipknot and the responses would range from overwhelming support at best to casual bemused tolerance at worst. How could anyone complain? Of course, the issue with utopia is that you can have all the harmony in the world but eventually someone will get bored and smash a window just to see what happens and, whilst the compassion of Gen X parents bestowed upon millennial children might have helped prevent this reaction for a time, there was always going to be a window, it's just that this one... Well, it's a fragile one. Indeed, we've all heard about snowflakes and safe spaces and for all of the debate and controversy it has stirred up, it is in this context it appears to have hit the most. Now, in 2018, you have bands like Anti Flag going from singing about police

states, burning down the government and being free as an individual to crying out that “Reverse racism doesn't exist” whilst touting big government and hammering away at the same old “Orange man bad” talking points that seem to be permeating culture as a whole.

Perennial trolls-before-trolls-were-a-thing NOFX recently were forced to apologise for making an edgy joke about the Las Vegas shooting which, while arguably an unpleasant one, is not out of type for a band that has always found success by being controversial. I mean really, what do you expect from the minds that created a character called Cokie The Clown and wrote a song taking on Big Pharma using puns?

Now that the “You can do it!” kids have all grown up, being told that everything they do is special and fantastic, it's started to seem that what's being rebelled against ironically, is non-conformity. As the lines between mainstream and counter-culture have been blurred to the point of invisibility, we've seen more and more homogenised into the great big melting pot to be cannibalised by collective though but, like the Borg of Star Trek, it must all first be assimilated and anything that doesn't conform, must die. Oh, we still want bands to SOUND like The Sex Pistols and we want still want writers who SOUND like Hunter S. Thompson, but now it seems that the style is what's desired, not the substance. We want diversity but only skin deep, so that you can kind of see it but not really feel it. I mean, Forrest Gump said “Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get”, but if that were made tod ay I imagine the box of chocolates would a selection of different looking items that all taste like vanilla and soy.

I stated earlier on that exponential growth can not go on forever and just as individualist rebellion gave way to collective dogma, surely the same will happen in the inverse. Just as the left rebelled against the stuffy conservative right in days gone by, Generation Z is showing signs of a more libertarian-conservative streak in response to the more socially-inclined millennials before them, the equal and opposite reaction to the initial action, so to speak. It can't be understated that the counter-culture of the twentieth century was most likely in response to the “All in this together” mindset that came about as a result of World War II, and just look how much great art and music came out of the following generations. Surely the same must occur again and even now, there are signs of a new cultural revolution complete with it's own sound and ethos and... Wait, you're telling me it's these rainbow-haired SoundCloud rappers?

I give up.

@DEADHORSEPRINT @DEADHORSEPRINT @DEADHORSEPRINT @DEADHORSEPRINT @DEADHORSEPRINT @DEADHORSEPRINT @DEADHORSEPRINT @DEADHORSEPRINT @DEADHORSEPRINT @DEADHORSEPRINT @DEADHORSEPRINT