Connect with us

Substacks

Apocalypse Not: I Got Engaged in the Mud at Burning Man Nick Gillespie

Published

on

Burning Man “participants” pause under a double rainbow after rains turned the festival site in Nevada’s Black Rock Desert into a mud pit. (Julie Jammot via Getty Images)

It was early Friday afternoon, right after my campmates and I exited a completely naked yet surprisingly chaste group shower organized by soap maker Dr. Bronner’s, when the rains started in Black Rock City, the temporary metropolis in the usually blazing hot Nevada desert where Burning Man takes place every summer. 

Have you ever been pelted from above with Magic Foam and water shooting out of car wash–style cannons while soaping up and rinsing off with a few hundred strangers after five days of sweat, sand, and sunscreen?

I hadn’t. I’m 60 and a libertarian with a penchant for extreme experiences and mind-expanding chemicals, so you would think I’d have spent half of my life at the 37-year-old psychedelic Brigadoon that is Burning Man—a mystical village that emerges ex nihilo for a week or so in the run up to Labor Day and then disappears, like—well, magic foam. And this summer marked not only my first pelt from Dr. Bronner’s but also my first encounter with El Pulpo Magnifico (a gigantic mechanical fire-breathing octopus) and a tutorial in BDSM (hosted by a winningly low-key New Jersey refugee living in the Bay Area and teaching under the nom de Burn “Bad Boy”). 

And oh, yeah: getting engaged to the love of my life in the middle of the desert just hours before it became a giant mud puddle. In keeping with Burning Man’s alternative vibe, my betrothed, Sarah Rose Siskind, got down on one knee at the far end of the event’s playa and asked me to marry her. The easiest question I’ve ever answered.

Mazel tov! (Photo credit: Julie Kheyfets)

You don’t need to be chemically altered to be totally wowed by an endless procession of big and small art projects, performance pieces, and booming “sound camps” glowing and pulsing on an alkaline flat so bereft of life that it’s exceptionally rare even to spot a single insect. Most of the 70,000 attendees at Burning Man have little internet connection during their time on the playa, which adds a splendid disconnection from normal life. 

At the end of the festival, everything is packed up, down to the last tent stake and rolling paper, with the goal of picking up all “matter out of place” or MOOP. Everything is permissible as long as it is consensual and leaves no trace. 

As one of my campmates said, Burning Man is welcoming to all but not woke, an attitude sorely needed in the regular world. Often miscategorized as socialist because commerce is banned and gifting encouraged, the event is, in fact, the ultimate expression of a capitalist economy that throws off so much surplus wealth, it’s where tens of thousands of people can gather to create self-destructing artifacts. Burning Man takes place way up and beyond Maslow’s “hierarchy of needs,” and its function is to remind us all to be intentional and inspired rather than reactive and routine in our grind-it-out lives.

The total amount of precipitation was less than an inch. But that was more than enough to utterly transform these four square miles from the driest and dustiest place in America (think the surface of the moon, but with 90- to 100-degree temperatures and blinding sandstorms) into a massive puddle of mud that adhered to everything, especially shoes. 

You couldn’t walk more than a few feet without clayish muck sucking at your footwear and then sticking to them, building up so fast it felt like you were balancing on top of bowling balls, slipping and sliding every which way like Lucille Ball on roller skates and a heroic dose of LSD. Only days before, I’d been bicycling through whiteout conditions—dust storms so violent and complete I couldn’t see ten feet in front of me. Slowly, amid the haze, shapes formed as the wind receded and I’d find myself staring at a 30-foot mechanical Pegasus slowly flapping its wings, or a giant, talking tree made of blinking LED lights. Some 300 brave, crazy souls (including my fiancée) even chose to run a 31-mile ultramarathon in such conditions, starting before dawn and finishing as the sun climbed to the center of the sky, broiling everything in sight.

The mud-ocalypse meant that the titular climax of the weeklong event—the Saturday evening burning of “the Man” structure that towered out there in the desert—was delayed not once but twice. The ability to leave by car or truck was shut down for a spell and participants (there are famously “no spectators” at Burning Man) were told to party closer to home rather than range around the city checking out Thunderdome (a battle playground based on the 1985 Mad Max movie), Orgy Dome (based on 3,000 years of human excess), or the Triple D Diner (serving grilled cheese sandwiches and snappy patter based on post-war Americana). 

Art cars—psychedelic pirate ships and railroad engines, Pac-Man ghosts, fire- and music-spitting mechanical octopuses, giant penises—were prohibited from roaming the streets. And we were all advised to conserve food, water, and toilet paper so that it would last however many extra days we might be stranded in a place with no resources other than what we brought in.

Dry times at Burning Man 2023. (Photo credit: Becci Weiss)

Because of the weather, the presence of VIPs, the death of a participant (likely due to a drug overdose), and an excruciatingly slow Labor Day weekend news cycle, Burning Man became a top-of-the-fold news story for a press hungry for content. 

“Burning Man conditions are bordering on disaster with over 70,000 people trapped and sheltering-in-place after rains turned the playa into an undrivable mud pit,” reported SFGate

“Death Confirmed at Burning Man Festival as Rain Turns Desert to Mud,” blared a Wall Street Journal headline, which continued: “Thousands are stranded at the Nevada event, which attracts a mix of free spirits, artists, and Silicon Valley tech titans each year.” 

I suppose that the rain, like the snow in James Joyce’s “The Dead,” fell upon the billionaires and the rest of us equally. But truth be told, I encountered no celebrities or VCs dressed up as furries or Road Warriors or whatever. I’m sure they were out there among the tents and RVs and shift pods, but they were hardly the center of attention even if some of them exited in grand fashion (Chris Rock and Diplo hitchhiked out). Burning Man is nothing if not a multiverse in which you choose your own adventure.

Observers took delight in the apparent dislocation. “It’s always been ridiculous to stage a drugged-out street festival for helpless city people in such a hostile climate,” tweeted Chaos Monkeys author Antonio García Martínez, sniffing, “I’ve been out on the ‘playa’ myself, alone in the middle of summer, and gone way deeper into Black Rock than any burner ever does. It’s a harsh environment that should be taken seriously, but one that anyone who’s gone properly offgrid can handle.”

But here’s the thing: there was no crisis in Black Rock City any more than there was Ebola. Those documenting from afar called it a crisis, but that was wishcasting, not reporting, because there is something frustrating about other people having a good time that brings out the Menckian puritan in all of us. The rain came down and mucked things up royally, but nobody starved or spontaneously combusted. Folks by and large stuck by the event’s “10 principles,” which include radical self-reliance, radical self-expression, civic responsibility, participation, and communal effort. We shared not only food and supplies and dry spaces but usually tough-to-come-by Wi-Fi and Starlink access so we could check in with loved ones and alter flights and travel plans.

My campmates and I decided to leave early on Monday and made it all of two feet before our U-Haul truck got stuck in the mud. We let the ground dry out for a few hours, got a mighty push from our neighbors, and were off. We were no longer clean from our Magic Foam shower and we were exhausted from the heat and the mud and a lack of sleep. But we were also absolutely energized by a complete break in the routine we abide by the other 51 weeks of the year, and the random, unguarded encounters we enjoyed with each other and total strangers. 

I’ll be digging dust and mud out of my clothes and gear for weeks, if not months, to come, which will serve to remind me of my experience at Burning Man. Black Rock City isn’t a replacement for New York or San Francisco or wherever you call home, but it is a state of mind that’s worth visiting on a very regular basis, no matter the weather.

Nick Gillespie is an editor at large at Reason. In the past, he has been known to pinch-hit for Nellie on TGIF. Follow him on Twitter (now X) @nickgillespie and on Instagram at @gillespienick

And for more smart takes on the news, become a Free Press subscriber today:

Subscribe now

Also: We’re hosting our first live debate on September 13 at the Ace Theatre in Los Angeles! Has the sexual revolution failed? Come argue about it and have a drink. We can’t wait to meet you in person. You can purchase tickets now at thefp.com/debates.

 

Continue Reading
Click to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Substacks

Are U.S. Airlines ‘Playing Into Iran’s Game’? Jay Solomon

Published

on

By

For most of the past year, none of the three major U.S. carriers—United Airlines, American Airlines, or Delta—have flown to Israel. (Photo by Jack Guez via AFP)

Iran’s Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, defines his campaign against Israel as being won as much through economics and psychological coercion as through victories on the battlefield. And nearly a year into the Jewish state’s war with Hamas, Iran’s military proxy in the Gaza Strip, Khamenei’s strategy appears to be advancing—with an assist from the U.S. airline industry.

For most of the past year, none of the three major American carriers—United Airlines, American Airlines, or Delta—have flown to Israel, citing the Gaza war and the security threats posed by Tehran and its military allies. And none of these airlines have offered definitive time frames for when their flights might resume. This has left Israel’s national carrier, El Al, as the only direct connection between the country and its closest ally and economic partner on the other side of the world, and has sent airfares between the U.S. and Israel skyrocketing.

In recent days, the cost of a round trip economy flight to Tel Aviv from New York on El Al is around $2,500, according to Israeli travel agencies, up from around $899 before October 7, 2023. United, American, and Delta previously all had at least one daily flight to Israel from New York or Newark, and together served Israel three times a week from Boston, Dallas, Miami, Chicago, and Washington D.C.

The suspension of the American flights is feeding into the economic and diplomatic isolation that Iran’s leaders are seeking, according to Israeli political and business leaders. “The American carriers are playing into Iran’s game,” said Eyal Hulata, who served as national security adviser to two Israeli prime ministers, Naftali Bennett and Yair Lapid, from 2001–2003. 

Jerusalem’s allies in Washington are urgently seeking to establish clearer U.S. government guidelines for when U.S. airlines should halt traffic to Israel, and when it can resume. If not, they warn, American carriers risk bolstering, even unwittingly, the economic coercion that Iran and Israel’s critics in the West are pursuing, often under the banner of the Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions movement, or BDS.

“In my view, unless there’s an objective process put in place to prevent the politicization of air travel, I predict that in the future the BDS movement will try to weaponize air travel as a new means of boycotting Israel,” U.S. Rep. Ritchie Torres (D-New York) told The Free Press. “And a travel ban has the potential to be the most potent weapon in BDS’s war against the Jewish state.”

Torres wrote the presidents of American, Delta, and United in August asking them to map out the guidelines they followed in deciding to suspend their routes to Israel. None of the three airlines issued an official response to Torres’ letter, and his staff says they have communicated with the U.S. carriers’ government affairs teams, but didn’t disclose the result of these discussions.

Current and former Israeli officials told The Free Press they’re particularly confused by the U.S. airlines’ decisions as a number of Middle Eastern, African, and European carriers are currently flying to Tel Aviv despite these security threats. That includes three airlines from the United Arab Emirates—Etihad Airways, FlyDubai, and Wizz Air Abu Dhabi—whose government only normalized diplomatic relations with Israel in 2020 as part of the Trump administration’s Abraham Accords. These pacts seek to integrate Israel economically and diplomatically into the wider Arab world. 

“They should fly to Israel exactly like the Gulf countries and others do,” said Hulata, the former national security adviser. “And if they don’t do this because they are scared of rockets, then there’s something fundamentally wrong in their decision making.”

Hulata, who now serves as a senior fellow at the Foundation for Defense of Democracies in Washington, added: “There hasn’t been a rocket anywhere close to the airport for months.”

Passengers scan the departures board at Ben Gurion Airport on September 2, 2024. (Photo by Ameer Abed Rabbo/Anadolu via Getty Images)

The three major U.S. carriers initially halted air travel to Israel last October 7 after Hamas militants crossed the country’s southern border and slaughtered 1,200 people, mostly civilians. The airlines’ decisions weren’t ordered, however, by the U.S.’s airline regulator, the Federal Aviation Administration. The FAA only cautioned American carriers against flying to Israel at the time. 

The FAA’s position was actually much more restrained than in the summer of 2014. Then, Hamas rocket strikes close to Israel’s Ben Gurion Airport—the primary international hub near Tel Aviv—caused the airline authority to briefly suspend all outbound U.S. flights. Israeli officials were incensed, arguing the ban amounted to an assault on the country’s economy. American supporters of Israel, including former New York mayor Michael Bloomberg, flew to Tel Aviv on El Al flights to show solidarity.

The three U.S. airlines have said in public statements that their decisions on Israel are tied solely to the security threats posed to their crews and passengers. United and Delta briefly resumed flights to Tel Aviv in June, but then suspended them in August in the wake of the assassination of Hamas’s political leader, Ismail Haniyeh, in Iran—an attack Tehran blamed on Israel and vowed to avenge. 

The Iranian military and its proxies launched a barrage of missiles and drones at Israel in April in response to an Israeli strike on an Iranian compound in Syria. But they were almost all intercepted by Israel, U.S., European, and Arab air defenses. The Israel Defense Forces and Pentagon remain on high alert for another Iranian reprisal. 

At present, Delta says its flights remain canceled through October 31; American Airlines cites March 2025 as a potential resumption date; and United Airlines says its services to Israel remain on hold indefinitely. “Our flights to Tel Aviv remain suspended—we look forward to resuming flights as soon as it’s safe for our customers and crew,” a United spokesperson told The Free Press.

American declined to comment and Delta said it is “continuously monitoring the evolving security environment and assessing our operations based on security guidance and intelligence reports and will communicate any updates as needed.”

This travel ban has forced Americans needing to go to Israel to either pay higher El Al fares or find more time-consuming routes through Europe. One U.S. defense expert who needed to meet Israeli security officials in Jerusalem this month to discuss the Iranian threat told The Free Press it took weeks to arrange a flight. No seats on El Al flights were available, and he eventually went via Paris on Air France. “It’s stunning how hard it was to get there,” he said. 

Still, the outspokenness of a number of U.S. airline unions against travel to Israel has raised concerns among members of Congress and the Israeli government that politics may also be factoring into the flight ban. 

A day after the October 7 attack, the president of the Allied Pilots Association, Captain Ed Sicher, ordered the union’s 16,000 members to refuse any requests from American Airlines to fly to the Jewish state. “As noted in APA’s initial update yesterday regarding the safe evacuation of working American Airlines crewmembers from Tel Aviv, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has announced that the country is now ‘at war.’ The Israeli security cabinet weighed in today, declaring that the country is in a ‘state of war,’ ” he wrote APA members. “Until further notice, if you are scheduled, assigned, or reassigned a pairing into Israel, refuse the assignment by calling your Chief Pilot or IOC Duty Pilot.”

In February, the Association of Flight Attendants-CWA joined six other major American unions in calling for a formal U.S. ban on military supplies to Israel until Netanyahu agrees to a cease-fire with Hamas. “It is clear that the Israeli government will continue to pursue its vicious response to the horrific attacks of October 7 until it is forced to stop,” reads the statement from the AFA-CWA and six other unions. The spokeswoman for the AFA-CWS, Taylor Garland, has also regularly posted and reposted items on social media demanding a Gaza cease-fire and criticizing the military tactics of the Israel Defense Forces.

Garland and the AFA-CWA declined to respond to numerous requests from The Free Press to comment on Israel and whether the organization backs a U.S. flight ban if the Netanyahu government doesn’t agree to a cease-fire with Hamas. Other airline unions, trade associations, and pilots, however, downplayed the idea that politics were driving decisions, but rather cited security and basic economics. A number noted that insurance costs for the U.S. carriers rise in conflict zones, while the overall demand for flights decrease. Also, the length of U.S. flights to Israel require overnight stays for American pilots and crews, something that’s not normally an issue for European or Middle East carriers. 

“Our number one concern as pilots, no matter where we’re flying—it doesn’t have to be to Tel Aviv, it can be to Toledo—it’s got to be safe and secure,” said Dennis Tajer, spokesman for the APA. “We didn’t make that call, but American Airlines did. Oftentimes, they will bring in a third layer, and that’s commercial interests.” 

One pilot from a major U.S. carrier told The Free Press he regularly signs up to fly to Tel Aviv when the ban appears set to be lifted. But then the airline again cancels, following a new security assessment. “It hurts us financially, but the decision is really down to our security department,” said the airman.

The suspension of U.S. flights to Israel has contributed to a broader shock to the Israeli economy since the war with Hamas erupted last October. Israel’s calling up of 360,000 reservists after the Hamas attack, roughly 4 percent of the population, has placed a particular strain on the economy. The country’s growth contracted 1.4 percent during the second quarter of 2024 from the year earlier, according to Israel’s Central Bureau of Statistics, and its exports of goods and services dropped 8.3 percent. The Israeli economy experienced a double-digit contraction in the months directly preceding the Hamas attack. 

“Aviation has a big impact on our country because we’re like an island,” said Professor Nicole Adler, dean of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem’s Business School. “I know that we have Syria and Egypt and so on around us. But most traffic is coming in via airlines, and it’s very sad that this war has gone on for as long as it has.”

Since October, Iran and its proxies across the region have made no secret of their desire to constrict international trade and passenger traffic going into and out of Israel. According to Iranian officials, this will both drain Israel’s economy and impose a psychological toll on the broader populace. 

Much of Tehran’s efforts have centered on the Red Sea, where the Iranian-backed Houthi militia has launched hundreds of attacks on tankers and other maritime vessels transiting through the Suez Canal—some on their way to Israel. Just this month, the Yemeni militants launched six missile strikes on international maritime traffic, including on Panamanian- and Saudi-flagged oil tankers.

On Sunday, the Houthis successfully launched a long-range missile at central Israel for the first time. Israeli defense officials said their air defense system largely destroyed the projectile, though some fragments landed on agricultural land and near a railway station. 

This, combined with the reduced air traffic, has prompted self-congratulatory comments from Iranian officials, including Ayatollah Khamenei, that their multifront war against the Jewish state is working. Since becoming Iran’s Supreme Leader in 1989, the 84-year-old cleric has made clear that the path toward liberating Palestine will be achieved as much through making Israel unlivable to its Jewish residents as through open warfare. 

“Four million people will leave Israel. [This means] reverse migration,” Khamenei told a television audience during a June 3 speech marking the death of the Islamic Republic of Iran’s founder, Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini. “In other words, the level of perplexity, confusion, and panic among Israeli officials has reached this degree. Pay attention to this! This is very important!”

Jay Solomon is an investigative reporter for The Free Press and author of The Iran Wars. Follow him on X at @jaysolomon, and read his last piece “How Close Is Iran to the Bomb?

To support more of our work, become a Free Press subscriber today:

Subscribe now

The Free Press earns a commission from all qualifying purchases made through book links in this article, including as an Amazon Associate. 

 

Continue Reading

Substacks

To the Woman Who Trashed Me on Twitter Kat Rosenfield

Published

on

By

“Why does the political landscape feel like high school?” asks Kat Rosenfield. (Mean Girls 2004, Entertainment Pictures/Alamy Stock Photo)

Back when Donald Trump was last running for election, as the Great Awokening made its speech-chilling sweep through the American media, a small number of writers and public intellectuals admitted to not being entirely onboard with the new orthodoxy of privilege checking, sensitivity reading, racial affinity groups for 8-year-olds, and so on. These people were, depending on who you ask, either very brave or very stupid.

In public, and especially on Twitter, this cohort became objects of loathing and derision, excoriated by peers for refusing to “read the room.” But behind the scenes, we were inducted into a weird little priesthood of the unorthodox—mostly via Twitter DMs, which served as a sort of backchannel confessional for fellow writers who agreed that things appeared to be going off the rails, but were too afraid of being canceled to admit as much on main.

The first time I received one of these messages, it was from a woman named Jane. She was a colleague—we both had permanent freelance gigs at the same online teen magazine—and wanted me to know that she shared my concerns about the increasing hostility to free expression in progressive spaces. 

“I’m trying to tell myself every day that this censorship, hypersensitivity etc is the natural exuberance of a new movement still feeling out its own limitations,” she wrote to me once, early on. “I spend so much time every day now wondering if my peers *actually* want to suspend the 1st amendment or are just angry/emotional/posturing.”

Jane would pop into my DMs every time a new censorship controversy erupted in our little corner of the internet, which is to say, we chatted frequently. When I wrote my first investigative feature about how the world of young adult fiction had been overtaken by campaigns to shame and censor authors in the name of diversity, she sent me effusive praise; when she worried aloud about her career, I offered advice and sent her leads on paid writing opportunities. When she wanted to vent about cancel culture, she always started by apologizing. She hated to burden me, she said; she just didn’t have anyone else to talk to.

Five years later, I had just published an article about the Covid-era campaign to eject Joe Rogan from Spotify when my friend Zac sent me one of those messages that almost invariably means someone is talking shit about you online: “Sorry,” he wrote,but I thought you should probably know about this.” When I clicked on the link he’d sent, I discovered that I was being mocked via screenshot by a prominent podcaster who has always hated me for unknown reasons; what Zac wanted me to see was one of the first replies.

“I used to work with this person,” it read. “She was not always like this, but this particular strain of contrarianism is like heroin—there are very few casual users.”

The writer of this comment was Jane.

I thought of this incident recently while reading Kat Timpf’s book, which came out last week, I Used to Like You Until. . .  A reflection on, per the subtitle, How Binary Thinking Divides Us, the book’s opening chapters are dedicated to describing the social liabilities of being employed at Fox News, where Timpf is a regular panelist on the late-night talk show Gutfeld! Her politics are more libertarian (small L) than conservative, and her brand of commentary more Phyllis Diller than Bill O’Reilly (she also does stand-up comedy), which makes her a bit of a misfit—if not on Fox News itself, then certainly in the minds of people who equate the network with a particular brand of shouty, Trumpy Republicanism.


Read more

 

Continue Reading

Substacks

September 14, 2024 Heather Cox Richardson

Published

on

By

 

Continue Reading

Shadow Banned

Copyright © 2023 mesh news project // awake, not woke // news, not narrative // deep inside the filter bubble