One might think the phrase “thought police” is just rhetoric – a figure of speech. But note the slogan of the Newfoundland Human Rights Commission, who have a police power over citizens:
Thinking it is as bad as saying it.
It’s the headline of their website:
And it’s in the fine print of their propaganda posters:
What an asylum such an organization must be, if intelligent (?) adults can say such things with a straight face. Not only is it evil: it also contradicts the stated charter of their own organization to uphold the UN Universal Declaration on Human Rights, whose Article 18 helpfully advises:
Article 18.
Everyone has the right to freedom of thought, conscience and religion …
Someone ought to file a human rights complaint against the human rights commission.
My near-decade of private piloting experience suggest three distinct phases of the activity.
1. Learning to fly.
At the beginning, when the flying bug bites, student pilots can’t get enough. Every lesson is new, scary, exciting. One’s instructor has executive judgement about the safety of the flight, often constrained by fixed numeric policies from the flight school. (Conservative limits are set on visibility, cloud ceilings, temperature, winds, all to reduce risks.) Maintenance decisions are made by someone else. Flying is care-free. The physiological sensations are still new.
2. Flying for fun.
In the middle, with a license in hand and out of the flight school nest, things change. One has to make one’s own risk judgements, so some people retreat into narrow comfort zones, such as flying only in perfect conditions. More guess that gradually stretching one’s limits – e.g., becoming used to worse weather, unusual maneuvers, busier airspace – reduces risk in the long term. At some point, one will collect all the experience “badges” needed for advanced ratings or those needed for foreseeable pleasure flights. Flights may become easy, routine, or even boring, or else they might induce one to strive toward performance perfection. If one owns an airplane, its mechanical upkeep becomes a new responsibility. Weighing all the risk factors is a chore, but one may still take every opportunity to get airborne, usually with no passengers.
3. Flying as transportation.
Should the potential convenience of general aviation become evident to one’s family, flying changes again. On one hand, it is great to be “needed”, to be able to provide a quick way of getting around, literally expanding family horizons. On the other hand, the risk go/no-go calculations become really hard. Other peoples’ comfort and safety dwell upon one’s mind, perhaps exaggerated. One’s acceptable risk contracts, and one loses some associated practice opportunities. One experiences the inconvenience of breakdowns far from home. One worries about becoming relied upon to such an extent that a failure to deliver a successful trip is disappointment. Flying with dependents is more rewarding but less fun in itself. One stuck in a #3 rut would be well-advised to take some #2 or even new #1 time.
For once, Harry Reid is right.
A great phrase by Anthony Watts, to represent a troubling recent phenomenon in science, where attempted reproductions of exciting findings lose statistical significance over time. It’s a great essay in the New Yorker, worth the twenty minutes’ read.
If you’re in the mood for twenty minutes of political essay reading, you could do worse than this one about human rights and western imperialism