The asshole we need. In 1993, at the peak of our first flu-like wave of “PC Culture,” Sylvester Stallone, America’s most iconic everyman, introduced me to a kind of working class Catholic libertarianism in the instant action classic Demolition Man. Stallone’s John Spartan is an LAPD cop, not a nice guy, but a “good guy,” strong and capable (and by the way jacked as hell), willing to sacrifice for his community, and ultimately willing to play by the same rules he enforces, no matter the cost; at the top of the film he submits willingly to an unjust prison sentence in California’s new “cryo-penitentiary” alongside his arch nemesis, the charming, psychopathic, totally evil Simon Phoenix, played by Wesley Snipes. The two are frozen solid, and left on ice, where they’re perfectly preserved for decades. Forty years later, a super-powered Phoenix escapes into a smiling, crime-free, “utopian” Los Angeles of the future, and predictably goes on a murder spree. Since law enforcement has atrophied in peacetime, there’s no cop left alive with the experience — or courage — to stop him. Spartan is therefore thawed to save the city, and with him an archetype lost to history: the American hero.

God, I love the 90s.

My mom was a teacher when the movie came out, born and raised in project housing not too far from Stallone’s old neighborhood in Hell’s Kitchen. Her father was a prize fighter, and a construction worker, and she worshipped him. My dad was doing dry-wall at the time, a Malboro-smoking, classic rock-loving, Vietnam veteran with two big arms perpetually covered in spackle, and a fishing pole in the back of his Chevy. These were still my family’s working class days, just before our rise to the middle, and while I personally thought Demolition Man was exciting, and funny, and Sandra Bullock was so pretty and so smart, and John Spartan was — *danger, confusing thoughts happening* — it hit my parents a little differently. The gruff, common sense Stallone’s journey through a world of nanny state nonsense run by wealthy, sexless, overly-polite Californians (read: “fake,” the worst thing a person could be) resonated with them on a deep, political level.

Most Americans have no meaningful political power. Most Americans have no wealth, or status. They don’t know the “right people.” They never met the kind of kids who went to Stanford and Harvard or befriended the young congressmen, governors, and senators now lording over the rest of us, and telling us how to live. Now trying to control us. Now looking to take away our most precious asset — not money, but freedom. These are working class anxieties, which Demolition Man picked up on and wove into a story of a world to come. By 2032, everything is very pretty, and everyone is very nice. Also: drinking, drugs, smoking, cursing, red meat, and sex have all been abolished, and a single murderer poses literally existential risk to Los Angeles. People are happy, but they’re weak.

Even for a little kid at home, the implicit questions were obvious (and leading). Is a tradeoff in individual liberty worth a broader, social peace? If something is “good,” should it be mandatory? How do we determine what is “good,” and more importantly “who” gets to make that determination? These are questions we still ask today. These are questions I ask myself, in these wires, every week. But it recently occurred to me the liberty vs. security frame has been, in some significant sense, warped for many years now, as we increasingly have neither. Last week, the San Francisco Board of Supervisors moved forward both with a ban on gas-powered stoves and an attempt to ban vaping in private homes. This on the heels of banning vape purchases, scooters, straws, cocktail swords, plastic bags, pet stores, street chess (?!), and, of course, all manner of housing. Ostensibly for our own good.

But… is any of this really helping us, or our city?

What is the carbon footprint of San Francisco’s gas stoves, and how will banning future stoves — in a city where most new housing efforts are by the way effectively illegal — impact a global rise in temperature? Is this tiny fraction of a fraction of an impact worth increasing the cost of living in a city already unaffordable to everyone who isn’t a millionaire? Is forcing a switch to electric cooking appliances in a state of now endemic, annual power outages wise? Now, on the question of weed: do neighbors in apartment units adjacent to people vaping have a higher risk of cancer? For that matter, do people vaping marijuana themselves have a meaningfully higher risk of cancer? Where is the evidence for this? And if no evidence exists, why does the policy?

Then, what does any of this have to do with finding help for the meth addict who can no longer control his bowel movements living on my sidewalk?

In local politics, America is spiraling into a worst of all worlds scenario in which liberty and security are both relinquished in favor of some amorphous, ever-changing dialogue on “social good.” This is not to say meaningful justice. I’m speaking of speaking, here, which as it happens also has an analog in Demolition Man, where a state network of listening devices monitor speech for curse words. When people slip they’re fined. A little ticket pops out of a box. You take it, and you pay. You don’t question this. “Niceness” is not only enforced legally, but socially. “Fuck,” did you just say a bad thing? Your friends find this shocking. Appalling. They almost find it… frightening.

Sound familiar?

Our contemporary social purity dance, to our song of associated purity positions, has consumed our civic world. It’s a fantasy of “goodness” and “justice” while the material stuff of our cities literally falls apart. To many, it no longer seems to matter how a governor governs. It only seems to matter how he speaks. A policy with no basis in empiricism? Who cares? Did he say “believe science”? He did. Oh thank God. Problem solved!

Is your governor invoking the right phrases? Is he speaking in a soft, thoughtful tone?

Is he being nice?

Meanwhile, the trains have stopped running.

Exodus. Among smart people who don’t hate themselves, the prescription for urban decay tends to be “run,” and among pieces in this vein last week’s entry from Katherine Boyle is one of the more eloquent. She notes a trend among executives in the technology industry away from the Bay Area, and encourages the trend. It’s a position I understand. It’s a position shared by several of my closest colleagues and many of my closest friends. But these past six months I’ve traveled across the country, and while the government of San Francisco has clearly done the most damage with the most wealth — not simply an absence of good work, or a squandering of opportunity, but meaningful damage to our city — it is not really an outlier. Every once-great city in our country is dying. San Francisco is just the first of many cities that will descend to total chaos if we don’t take a stand and start competently governing. You can run from this trend, at least for now, but you can’t hide. It’s only a matter of time before the decay finds you.

So what do you do? What do we do?

I think first we need to get comfortable with a different frame. The question isn’t whether we should fight, but where is our greatest chance of success, and when? Increasingly, I think that’s here and now. Despite its many crises, San Francisco is still a city of tremendous wealth, and tremendous talent, which is why so many exceptional people still choose to live here. The city may be uniquely challenged, but there’s unique opportunity here. It’s also worth looking to John Spartan for a little inspiration, and to the working class so many wealthy Stanford kids in Silicon Valley love to speak on behalf of but never seem willing to listen to; common sense is not a dirty phrase. Our cities should be functional. When they aren’t functional, it’s okay to be frustrated. When our leaders aren’t leading, it’s okay to get rid of them. It’s also okay to replace them. In fact, I think that’s pretty much our responsibility.

Oh, and it’s nice to be nice. Let’s not lose perspective here. But “nice” alone doesn’t build rocket ships, and it doesn’t win wars.

-SOLANA