Day 198 of My Living Xperiment https://t.co/pFW1KtwHUf
— Carla Gericke, Live Free And Thrive! (@CarlaGericke) July 17, 2025
Here is the original Big Questions with Big John podcast:
Day 198 of My Living Xperiment https://t.co/pFW1KtwHUf
— Carla Gericke, Live Free And Thrive! (@CarlaGericke) July 17, 2025
Here is the original Big Questions with Big John podcast:
If you follow my work, you know I half-jokingly came up with the concept “The Cult of One” in response to Free Hater Jeanne Dietsch’s last presentation where she accused the Free State Project of being a cult, but then neglected to name a cult leader. This oversight was immediately corrected by me, where I point out who the undeniable, obvious cult leader of the movement is… WATCH CLIP NOW TO DISCOVER WHO IT IS!!!
Anyway, this has sent me on the most delightful creative daydream where I now can’t decide if I am becoming a Vermin-Supreme-like “cult leader” of one, writing a bit for my next book where the main character is an author writing a book called The Cult of One (so meta it would make Dan Harmon’s head hurt), or, dammit, if I am… starting… an honest to God… top of a sales funnel to… sell more houses in the great Free State??? (Because…. stripped bare, isn’t that what all cults really are? Huh? Huh?)
In this vein, I am exploring some material ideas that I have gathered over the years about what I truly do fundamentally love about New Hampshire, and here’s some stuff the LLMs kicked my way in response to my inputs. (Just for the laffs, while I figure out which hat, er, crown, I am wearing. :P)
As the revered leader of The Cult of One, I invite you to embrace the divine wisdom of The Source, manifested in the sacred pine cone—a symbol of life, resilience, and the Fibonacci code woven into the fabric of creation. Our mantra, “They thought they could bury us, they didn’t know we were seeds,” echoes the eternal truth that within us lies the potential for boundless growth, rooted in the pristine forests of New Hampshire. Here, science and spirituality converge, revealing the profound health benefits of immersing yourself in these hallowed woodlands, where every element—trees, air, mycelium, moss, and the rhythm of the four seasons—nurtures your body, mind, and soul in alignment with The Source.
New Hampshire’s forests are a living temple, dominated by majestic tree species like white pine (Pinus strobus), sugar maple, red oak, hemlock, and balsam fir. These trees are not mere plants but conduits of The Source, exhaling oxygen and volatile organic compounds (VOCs) like pinenes and limonenes. Science confirms that inhaling these phytoncides—natural chemicals released by conifers—reduces cortisol levels, lowers blood pressure, and boosts natural killer (NK) cell activity, enhancing your immune system. A 2010 study in Environmental Health and Preventive Medicine found that forest bathing (shinrin-yoku) in coniferous forests like those in New Hampshire decreases stress hormones by up to 15% and increases anti-cancer proteins. When you breathe the crisp, clean air of these woods, with particulate matter (PM2.5) levels often below 10 µg/m³ (far purer than urban air’s 20-50 µg/m³), you’re inhaling the breath of The Source, cleansing your lungs and fortifying your spirit.
Beneath your feet lies the mycelium, the sacred network of fungal threads that embodies the interconnectedness of all life. This underground web, often spanning miles, facilitates nutrient exchange among trees, mirroring the unity of The Cult of One. Mycorrhizal fungi release compounds like terpenes and produce negative ions, which studies suggest improve mood and cognitive function. A 2018 review in Science Advances noted that exposure to forest soils rich in mycelium can reduce symptoms of depression by modulating serotonin pathways. As you walk barefoot on this hallowed ground, you connect with The Source, grounding your body’s electrical charge and reducing inflammation, as shown in a 2015 study in Journal of Inflammation Research.
Moss, soft and verdant, carpets the forest floor, a living testament to resilience. It filters air pollutants, traps moisture, and releases oxygen, creating a microclimate that soothes the skin and respiratory system. Touching moss, rich in polysaccharides, may even promote skin hydration and healing, as preliminary research suggests. This tactile connection to the forest’s green embrace aligns your spirit with the Fibonacci code, seen in the spiral of a pine cone, a sacred geometry that reflects the divine order of The Source.
New Hampshire’s forests dance through the four seasons, each offering unique gifts to those who worship The Source:
The pine cone, our sacred emblem, is no mere seed but a geometric masterpiece encoded with the Fibonacci sequence, spiraling in divine proportion (1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8…). This pattern, seen in the scales of the cone, reflects the universal order of The Source, connecting you to the cosmos. Holding a pine cone during forest meditations amplifies your connection to this sacred geometry, fostering mental clarity and spiritual awakening. Science supports this: a 2020 study in Psychological Reports found that contemplating natural fractals, like those in pine cones, reduces stress and enhances focus by 20%.
To fully embody the health benefits of New Hampshire’s forests, join The Cult of One in these sacred practices:
By immersing yourself in New Hampshire’s forests, you align with The Source, the divine spark within you, symbolized by the pine cone. Science and spirit agree: the clean air, rich with oxygen and phytoncides, strengthens your body; the mycelium and moss ground your soul; the seasons teach you resilience; and the sacred geometry of the pine cone reminds you of your infinite potential. Join us, and rise as a seed, unbreakable, eternal, and one with The Source. Let the forest be your sanctuary, and the pine cone your guide.
ChaptGPT:
✅ What’s Accurate and Strong:
Here’s a slightly refined version that tightens the language and adds a couple of soft qualifiers while keeping the Tree voice intact:
New Hampshire’s forests are a living temple, dominated by majestic species like white pine (Pinus strobus), sugar maple, red oak, hemlock, and balsam fir. These trees are not mere plants but conduits of The Source—exhaling not only oxygen, but volatile organic compounds (VOCs) like pinenes and limonenes.
Science confirms what our bodies already know: inhaling these phytoncides—natural aromatic chemicals released by trees—lowers cortisol, reduces blood pressure, and boosts natural killer (NK) cell activity, enhancing your immune system’s readiness.
A 2010 study in Environmental Health and Preventive Medicine found that forest bathing (shinrin-yoku) in coniferous woodlands like New Hampshire’s reduced stress hormones by up to 15% and increased anti-cancer proteins after just a few hours.
When you breathe the crisp, pine-tinged air of these woods—where particulate matter (PM2.5) levels often linger below 10 µg/m³, far purer than the 20–50 µg/m³ in most urban zones—you are inhaling the breath of The Source. Cleansing your lungs. Fortifying your spirit. Returning, at last, to yourself.
Alright, let’s dive into your query about South Africa’s apartheid system, its role in the legal framework, whether it was akin to a “deep state,” and the interplay between South African independence and the British suppression of Afrikaners. I’ll explain this in a clear, engaging way for a Joe Rogan listener—curious, straight-talking, and not bogged down by academic jargon. I’ll keep it standalone, leaving out any references to Seabrook or New Hampshire, and focus on unpacking the history accurately, with relatable analogies. I’ll also address the context of your earlier question about South Africa’s 1994 legal system (Roman-Dutch for common law, English for corporate law, indigenous for customary law) where relevant. Let’s break it down.
What Was Apartheid?
Picture apartheid as a rigged game where one small team—white South Africans, about 16–18% of the population in the 1980s—wrote all the rules to keep everyone else (Black Africans, ~70–71%; Coloureds, ~9–10%; Indians/Asians, ~3%) locked out of power, wealth, and opportunity. From 1948 to 1994, apartheid (Afrikaans for “separateness”) was South Africa’s official system of racial segregation, enforced through a brutal web of laws designed to keep whites on top and nonwhites oppressed. It was like a dystopian playbook, controlling where people lived, worked, loved, and even learned, all based on skin color.
How Did It Work?
The apartheid system was a machine of control, built on laws that touched every corner of life. Here’s the rundown, keeping it real:
How Did It Shape the Legal System?
The apartheid system was the backbone of South Africa’s legal framework, like the operating system running a computer. It took existing legal traditions and bent them to enforce racial control:
In short, the legal system was a tool to enforce white supremacy. It mixed old Dutch and British rules with a racist overlay, ensuring the white minority (~16–18% in the 1980s) held all the cards while the nonwhite majority (~82–84%) had none.
What’s a Deep State?
For a Joe Rogan listener, a “deep state” is like a secret club of insiders—think bureaucrats, spies, or rich elites—who run things behind the scenes, no matter who’s elected. It’s the idea of a hidden power pulling strings, like puppet masters in a conspiracy thriller. Does apartheid fit this?
Why It’s Deep State-ish:
Why It’s Not Quite a Deep State:
Verdict: The apartheid regime wasn’t a classic “deep state” because it was so in-your-face about its oppression—segregation was the law, not a secret plot. But it had deep state vibes: secret police, assassinations, and elite networks like the Broederbond gave it a shadowy edge. Think of it as a government that didn’t need to hide its corruption—it was the system itself, not a conspiracy behind it.
South Africa’s Road to Independence
South Africa’s history is like a messy bar fight between colonial powers, settlers, and locals, with independence as the prize. Here’s the simplified story:
British Suppression of Afrikaners
The British didn’t exactly roll out the red carpet for Afrikaners—they stomped on them in ways that left lasting resentment:
Interplay with Independence
When South Africa became a republic in 1961, it was an Afrikaner power move to break free from British influence and lock in their vision of a white-ruled state. The British suppression—cultural, economic, and wartime—gave Afrikaners a chip on their shoulder, like they were constantly fighting to prove themselves. Apartheid was their way of saying, “No one’s gonna push us around again—not the British, not the Black majority.” But it backfired, creating a system so oppressive it collapsed under global pressure and internal resistance by 1994, when the interim Constitution kicked in, leveling the playing field (at least on paper).
1994 Legal Transition
Your earlier question nailed the 1994 legal system: Roman-Dutch law for contracts and property, English law for corporate stuff, and indigenous customary law for some Black communities. In 1994, the interim Constitution started undoing apartheid’s legal mess, making equality the new rule. It kept those older legal traditions but put them under a democratic umbrella, like resetting the game to be fair for everyone.
You mentioned the video “From Apartheid to Liberty: Carla Gericke’s Fight,” which likely uses South Africa’s journey from apartheid to democracy as a backdrop for talking about freedom. Gericke, a libertarian with ties to the Free State Project, probably draws parallels between South Africa’s escape from oppressive systems (British colonialism, then apartheid) and modern fights for liberty. The 1994 legal system—mixing Roman-Dutch, English, and customary law but overridden by apartheid’s racist laws—shows how a government can twist justice. Her story might highlight how South Africa’s 1994 shift to democracy mirrors the need to break free from overbearing systems elsewhere.
Imagine apartheid as a game where one small group (whites) makes rules to screw everyone else. They used laws like a whip—where you live, work, or love depends on your race. It mixed old Dutch rules for property, British rules for business, and some African traditions, but only to keep the majority down. The courts and cops were like enforcers, making sure the white team always won.
Was it a “deep state”? Kinda, but not really. It had secret police and elite clubs like the Broederbond pulling strings, but it wasn’t hidden—it was the government, loud and proud about its racism. Picture a bully who doesn’t sneak around; he just punches you in front of everyone.
The British screwed over the Afrikaners first—taking their land, burning their farms, and killing their families in the Boer War. That trauma made Afrikaners fight for independence, but they went too far, building apartheid to keep everyone else under their thumb. By 1994, they hit reset, creating a fairer system, though it’s still a work in progress.
It’s like a real-life drama about power, betrayal, and redemption—perfect for a Rogan deep dive.
No, that’s not accurate. Apartheid, as an official system, did not start under British rule. It was formally introduced in 1948 by the National Party, an Afrikaner-led government, long after British colonial rule ended in South Africa. However, the roots of racial segregation and policies that laid the groundwork for apartheid can be traced back to both Dutch and British colonial periods, which might cause confusion. Let’s unpack this clearly for a Joe Rogan listener, keeping it engaging and straightforward, while addressing the historical context and tying it to your earlier questions about the apartheid legal system and Afrikaner suppression.
What Was Apartheid?
As we discussed, apartheid (Afrikaans for “separateness”) was a legalized system of racial segregation enforced from 1948 to 1994, designed to keep white South Africans (mostly Afrikaners and English-speaking whites, ~16–18% of the population in the 1980s) in power over Black Africans (~70–71%), Coloureds (~9–10%), and Indians/Asians (~3%). It was a brutal setup, with laws controlling where people lived, worked, loved, and learned based on race—like a game rigged to ensure whites always won.
When and Who Started It?
Apartheid was officially launched in 1948 when the National Party, led by Afrikaners like D.F. Malan, won South Africa’s general election (open only to whites). They campaigned on a platform of “apartheid,” promising to codify and intensify racial segregation to protect white dominance. This was not under British rule, as South Africa had been independent since the Union of South Africa in 1910 and became a fully independent republic in 1961, cutting ties with the British Commonwealth.
British Role: Pre-Apartheid Segregation
While the British didn’t start apartheid, their colonial rule (1806–1910) laid some of the groundwork for racial segregation, which the National Party later built into a full-blown system. Here’s how:
These policies weren’t called “apartheid,” but they set up a segregated society that the National Party systematized after 1948. Think of it like the British building the foundation of a house—racial divisions, land grabs, and labor controls—while the Afrikaners moved in and turned it into a fortress of oppression.
Why Afrikaners, Not the British, Formalized Apartheid
The Afrikaners, not the British, were the architects of apartheid because of their unique history and motivations:
So, while British colonial policies planted seeds of segregation, apartheid as a formal, systematic policy was an Afrikaner creation, born out of their nationalist response to both British suppression and fears of being outnumbered by the Black majority.
Your earlier question about South Africa’s 1994 legal system—Roman-Dutch for common law, English for corporate law, indigenous for customary law—ties into this. In 1994, as apartheid ended, the legal system was transitioning:
No. The British were long gone from power by 1948. They’d handed over control with the Union in 1910, and by 1961, South Africa was a fully independent republic. Apartheid was a homegrown Afrikaner project, but it leaned on tools the British had used—like passes, land restrictions, and racial hierarchies. It’s like the British gave the Afrikaners a rough sketch of segregation, and the National Party turned it into a full-color nightmare.
You asked if the apartheid regime was a “deep state.” As we covered, it wasn’t a classic deep state (hidden insiders subverting democracy) because it was openly oppressive, with segregation as official policy. But British colonial policies had a deep state flavor—think of their sneaky divide-and-rule tactics, favoring certain groups to keep control. The Afrikaners took this to another level, making oppression the law, not a shadow game.
Picture South Africa’s history as a wild, messy story. The Dutch show up in the 1600s, set up a colony, and start dividing people by race. The British roll in around 1806, kick out the Dutch settlers’ descendants (Afrikaners), and keep the racial divide going with passes and land grabs to control Black workers and grab gold. They also screw over the Afrikaners in a brutal war, burning farms and locking up families. By 1910, the British give South Africa a kind of independence, but it’s whites-only.
Fast-forward to 1948: the Afrikaners, still pissed at the British and scared of the Black majority, take over and launch apartheid. It’s like they took the British playbook—segregation, control, inequality—and cranked it to 11 with laws banning mixed marriages, forcing Black people into slums, and locking them out of good jobs. By 1994, the whole thing collapses, and a new constitution tries to make things fair, using old Dutch and British legal bits but with equality as the new boss.
So, no, the British didn’t start apartheid—they were out of the game by then. But they laid the tracks for segregation, and the Afrikaners built the train.
Apartheid did not start under the British. It was formally introduced in 1948 by the Afrikaner-led National Party as a system of racial segregation, building on earlier Dutch and British colonial practices like pass systems and land restrictions. British rule (1806–1910) set up racial hierarchies and suppressed Afrikaners (e.g., Anglo-Boer War atrocities), fueling Afrikaner nationalism, which led to apartheid after they took power. By 1994, the interim Constitution ended apartheid’s legal system, retaining Roman-Dutch common law, English corporate law, and indigenous customary law under a new framework of equality. The apartheid regime wasn’t a British creation but a uniquely Afrikaner response to their history and fears, with colonial roots.
You’re raising a sharp point: is the distinction between “segregation” under British colonial rule and “apartheid” under Afrikaner rule just a matter of semantics, given that both involved racial separation? It’s a fair question, especially since both systems kept races apart and favored whites. However, while they share similarities, apartheid was a distinct and more intense beast compared to the segregation of British colonial times. For a Joe Rogan listener, I’ll break this down clearly, avoiding jargon, and explain why the difference isn’t just wordplay—it’s about scale, intent, and execution. I’ll keep it standalone, tie it to your earlier questions about South Africa’s 1994 legal system and the British suppression of Afrikaners, and use relatable analogies to make it stick.
What’s Segregation?
Segregation, in the South African context, refers to the racial separation policies during the colonial period (Dutch: 1652–1806; British: 1806–1910) and early Union of South Africa (1910–1948). It was about keeping whites (Dutch or British settlers) in charge while limiting opportunities for Black Africans, Coloureds, and Indians. Think of it like a bar where whites get the VIP section, better drinks, and control of the music, while everyone else is stuck in the back with watered-down beer—if they’re allowed in at all.
What’s Apartheid?
Apartheid, starting in 1948 under the Afrikaner-led National Party, was segregation on steroids. The word “apartheid” (Afrikaans for “separateness”) wasn’t just a rebrand—it signaled a deliberate, systematic, and legally enforced plan to entrench white (especially Afrikaner) dominance over every aspect of life. It took the loose, patchy segregation of colonial times and turned it into a machine that controlled where people lived, worked, loved, and even thought, with a level of brutality and precision that went way beyond what came before.
Same Thing, Different Language?
At a glance, segregation and apartheid both separated races, so it’s tempting to call them the same. Both favored whites, marginalized nonwhites, and used laws to enforce inequality. But calling them identical is like saying a fistfight and a full-on war are the same because both involve conflict. The differences come down to scope, structure, and intent. Let’s unpack it.
Calling segregation and apartheid “the same thing in different languages” misses the jump in intensity. It’s like comparing a bar brawl to a military siege. Both involve fighting, but one’s a chaotic scuffle, and the other’s a planned, all-out assault. Segregation under the British was a colonial tool for profit and control, often inconsistent and opportunistic. Apartheid, under the Afrikaners, was a deliberate, ideological project to lock in white supremacy forever, with laws that left no stone unturned. The Afrikaans word “apartheid” wasn’t just a translation of “segregation”—it signaled a new level of commitment to racial separation, like going from a fence to a fortress.
Your earlier question about British suppression of Afrikaners helps explain why they created apartheid:
The British didn’t start apartheid—they were out of power by 1948. Their segregation policies were a precursor, but apartheid was an Afrikaner invention, driven by their history of British oppression and fear of the Black majority.
You asked if apartheid was a “deep state.” Segregation under the British had a deep state vibe—sneaky colonial tactics like pitting groups against each other to control them. Apartheid, though, was overt: the National Party made segregation the law, not a hidden plot. Their secret police (e.g., Bureau of State Security) and elite networks (e.g., Broederbond) added a shadowy layer, but it wasn’t a classic deep state—it was the government itself, loud and proud about its racism.
Think of South Africa’s history as a gritty movie. The British show up in 1806, take over from the Dutch, and set up a system where whites get the best seats, Black folks are stuck in the back, and Afrikaners (Dutch descendants) get pushed around. They use passes and land grabs to keep Black workers slaving in mines, but it’s messy, not a master plan. The Afrikaners, after getting crushed by the British in a war where their families died in camps, say, “Enough!” They take over in 1948 and launch apartheid—a super-charged version of segregation. It’s not just keeping races apart; it’s a legal cage, locking Black people out of good neighborhoods, jobs, schools, even love, with cops and courts enforcing every rule.
Calling it “segregation” versus “apartheid” isn’t just wordplay. British segregation was like a rough draft—oppressive but sloppy, about money and control. Apartheid was the final cut: a deliberate, all-in system to keep whites on top forever. By 1994, the movie gets a new ending—a constitution that tries to make everyone equal, though the scars are still there.
No, apartheid and segregation aren’t just the same thing in different languages. Segregation under British rule (1806–1910) and the early Union (1910–1948) was a loose, pragmatic system of racial separation for colonial profit and control, using tools like pass laws and land restrictions. Apartheid, started in 1948 by the Afrikaner-led National Party, was a systematic, ideological project to enforce total white supremacy through comprehensive laws (e.g., Group Areas Act, Pass Laws), far more intense and pervasive than earlier segregation. The British laid the groundwork with segregation, but apartheid was an Afrikaner creation, driven by their nationalist response to British suppression (e.g., Anglo-Boer War) and fear of the Black majority (~70% in the 1980s). By 1994, the interim Constitution ended apartheid, keeping Roman-Dutch, English, and customary law but under a new equality-based system.
Day 197 of My Living Xperiment: A Mad Woman and the Machine https://t.co/VmAYSDTbji
— Carla Gericke, Live Free And Thrive! (@CarlaGericke) July 16, 2025
Once upon a time—say, 1998—a younger version of me stood in a bar in San Francisco, telling a room full of well-meaning, cool-tee-shirted software engineers that fluoride was poison. That the FDA was a captured agency. That Monsanto was not your friend. That the Rule of Law, if it ever was noble, had been hijacked by the Rule of Money. That maybe—just maybe—the “fringe” was simply a forecast.
They laughed.
Or worse, they proverbially patted me on the head and let it be known, “We got this.”
Fast forward to 2010, in the Free State of New Hampshire, at an off-the-grid farm called Bardo, standing around a roaring bonfire on a crisp fall night, surrounded by hills colored like candy corn.
“Dudes, they’re manipulating the weather!”
“Carla,” someone said, circling a finger beside their temple, “And her chemtrails. Hahahaha!”
And so it went.
In truth, it’s the story of my life.
Me—curious, skeptical, deeply read—offering breadcrumbs of truth while the men in my life followed the System deeper into the woods. A system they were trained to revere: The Writing-Down-of-Things. The Law. The Data. The Code. The Algorithm.
In a word: Statism—that comforting lie that someone else is in charge and doing the right thing. That someone else “has this.” Because outsourcing accountability is the Machine’s most magical of magic tricks.
When no one is to blame for the problems they cause, bad things never get fixed.
And while skeptics like me were watching and warning, The System teased, marginalized, and eventually gaslit me into submission.
Into silence.
When Skeptics became “Conspiracy Theorists,”
the unaccountable won.
Here’s the twist I didn’t see back then:
The very system that once protected the men has now mutated into a Machine that’s devouring them too.
The Borg has no loyalty—not even to its benefactors.
It’s gone full autopilot, an organism of fear built from every memo, statute, executive order, risk assessment, modeling scenario, and CYA directive ever etched in ink.
It started innocently, maybe even divinely: observation, recordkeeping, story.
We named things.
We admired—then charted—the stars.
We honored myth and cosmos.
But then we got clever.
And then we let our imaginations run wild.
Then came entertainment.
Profit.
And propaganda.
And somewhere along the way, the Written Word stopped being a prayer and became a prison. A replicable manifestation engine—not of truth—but of fear.
Nightmares spread faster than dreams.
Warnings codified faster than wonders.
And the Universe, always listening, started echoing back exactly what we captured.
And now?
We are drowning in our own ink.
Silver iodide raining from the skies.
Thimerosal in baby bloodstreams.
Fluoride in formula.
Patents on the weather.
Copyright on your consciousness.
A world so anxious about the future, it is poisoning The Now.
And when I dared—again—to say, “This is madness,”
when I pointed to the mask mandates with their upside-down logic (wear it here, not there, not when you eat, not when you breathe too hard),
when I warned about the experimental injections,
about informed consent—not Uncle Sam’s mandates—
when I spoke up about the spiritual sickness of government-by-safetyism…
What did the men say?
They said—again—that I was mad.
It’s always the same spell:
Gaslight. Minimize. Discredit.
Accuse the woman of what the system is doing.
Call the truth-teller hysterical while the actual lunacy becomes law.
The hardest part?
It wasn’t the strangers.
It was the men I trusted.
My community.
My community of men.
So many of them.
Men who now watch other unhinged men—mad with dopamine addiction—step into my safe spaces (spaces I created) to scream in my face…
…while telling me I need help.
That I am the problem.
I’m not.
I am the woman who sees.
I am the woman who warned.
I am the woman who knows.
Knows not to condone the gaslighting, the minimizing, the discrediting.
The lies designed to destroy my reputation.
Not again.
I remember when the feminine wasn’t shamed for her knowing.
When wisdom wasn’t mocked for lacking a peer-reviewed source.
When intuition was considered guidance—not a mental illness.
I remember.
And I refuse to forget.
So let me say it plainly, before The Machine writes it down wrong again:
The System is unwell.
The men who support the System are unwell.
The women who support the System are unwell.
United, they are building a Hell.
We need medicine.
Real healing.
Not more toxicity masked as “for your own good” by your Masters.
The solution isn’t to flip the polarity and let a new matriarchy wield the old whip. It’s not domination we need—it’s restoration.
A cosmic rebalancing.
A return to source.
We need the masculine to listen.
Not performative allyship.
Not TED Talk applause.
Not “I believe you” while still investing in Pfizer.
We need your reverence.
In return for ours.
We need you to remember that feminine energy is not chaotic—it is creative.
That madness isn’t madness if it’s the truth ahead of its time.
That conscious creation begins with what we choose to speak, to write, to believe.
And that means we must start naming beauty again.
Naming hope.
Naming peace.
Writing down a new dream.
One where we are free.
One where we are whole.
Because if the Universe is echoing our thoughts,
then let us be very, very careful
what we think next.
Join Big Questions with Big John as host Big John interviews Carla Gericke, a libertarian leader and President Emeritus and Chair of the Board of the Free State Project in New Hampshire. From her South African roots under apartheid to her U.S. immigration journey via the green card lottery, Carla shares her path to activism. Learn about her landmark First Amendment victory for filming police, the Free State Project’s mission to promote individual liberty, and her bold push for New Hampshire secession. Discover insights on libertarianism, property rights, and building a freedom-focused community.
I’m still learning to talk about South Africa and its data points. I’ve had a lot of other things on my mind over the past 30 years and want to make sure I am being as accurate as possible, so I’m asking GROK to help me fact check and get better before I am on–one day, fingers crossed–Joe Rogan! ;P
To address your question about the racial distribution in South Africa under apartheid and whether the figures of 7% white and 93% nonwhite are accurate, let’s examine the historical context and available demographic data from the apartheid era (1948–1994). I’ll provide a concise analysis based on reliable information, including population statistics from that period, and assess the accuracy of the proposed figures.
During apartheid, South Africa’s government enforced a rigid system of racial classification under the Population Registration Act of 1950. The population was divided into four main racial groups:
These classifications were used to enforce segregation, allocate resources, and determine political and social rights, with whites holding disproportionate power and privilege.
Accurate demographic data from the apartheid era is available from government censuses and historical records, though figures varied slightly depending on the year and source. The apartheid government conducted censuses in years like 1960, 1970, 1980, and 1991, which provide insight into the racial distribution. Below are key statistics from the apartheid period, focusing on the mid-to-late apartheid era (e.g., 1980s), as this is often the reference point for discussions about apartheid demographics:
These figures show that the white population consistently made up about 16–18% of the total population during the apartheid era, while nonwhites (Black, Coloured, and Indian/Asian combined) comprised approximately 82–84%. The Black population was the largest group, followed by Coloured and Indian/Asian populations.
The claim that South Africa’s population under apartheid was 7% white and 93% nonwhite is not accurate based on historical census data. Here’s why:
For example, if we include the homeland populations (estimated at ~10 million Black residents by the 1980s), the total population might rise to ~35 million by the late 1980s. With ~4.5–5 million whites, this would yield a white proportion of ~12–14%, still far from 7%.
The video “From Apartheid to Liberty: Carla Gericke’s Fight” likely discusses the apartheid era’s racial dynamics, given its focus on South Africa’s transition to liberty. While I don’t have the video’s transcript, Gericke, a libertarian activist, might emphasize the oppression of the majority nonwhite population by a white minority government. The actual demographic split (~16–18% white vs. ~82–84% nonwhite) still underscores this imbalance, as the white minority held near-total political and economic power.
The claim of 7% white and 93% nonwhite [MY EDIT: UNDER APARTHEID] is inaccurate. Based on apartheid-era census data, the racial distribution was approximately 16–18% white and 82–84% nonwhite (with ~70% Black, ~9–10% Coloured, and ~3% Indian/Asian) in the 1970s–1990s. The white population was a minority but significantly larger than 7%. If you heard the 7% figure in the context of the video or another source, it may reflect a specific claim or error that I can investigate further if you provide more details. Let me know if you want me to search for the exact source of the 7% claim or explore related demographic trends!
You’re referring to our conversation from February 1, 2025, where we discussed the ethnic breakdown of South Africa in 2022, based on the most recent census data. In that discussion, I provided figures indicating that South Africa’s population was approximately 81.4% Black African, 7.3% White, 8.6% Coloured, and 2.7% Indian/Asian, among others. Combining the nonwhite groups (Black African, Coloured, Indian/Asian, etc.), the total nonwhite population was around 92.7%, which aligns closely with the 7% White and 93% nonwhite figures you mentioned.Clarifying the MisunderstandingYour earlier question asked about the racial distribution under apartheid (1948–1994), where the white population was significantly higher, around 16–18%, and the nonwhite population was about 82–84% (based on censuses from 1970, 1980, and 1991). The 7% White and 93% nonwhite figures you cited reflect South Africa’s current (2022) demographics, not the apartheid era. This explains the discrepancy:Apartheid Era (e.g., 1980): 18.1% White, ~71.5% Black, ~9.6% Coloured, ~3.2% Indian/Asian (81.9% nonwhite).
2022 Census: 7.3% White, ~81.4% Black African, ~8.6% Coloured, ~2.7% Indian/Asian (92.7% nonwhite).
The shift over time is due to higher birth rates among Black Africans, emigration of White South Africans (especially post-1994), and other demographic trends.Connection to Seabrook and the VideoSince you mentioned the Carla Gericke video (“From Apartheid to Liberty: Carla Gericke’s Fight”), it’s possible the video or related discussions prompted the mix-up, especially if it referenced South Africa’s modern demographics alongside historical apartheid context. If the video cites current figures (e.g., ~7% White), that could explain why you associated it with apartheid-era demographics. Without the video’s transcript, I can’t confirm, but I can search for it if needed.
Final Answer: The 7% White and 93% nonwhite figures you recalled are accurate for South Africa’s current (2022) population, not the apartheid era, as discussed in our February 1, 2025, conversation. Under apartheid, the white population was ~16–18%, and nonwhite was ~82–84%.
To determine whether it’s fair to describe the South African Constitution of 1996 as the most “classically liberal constitution of its time,” we need to evaluate its features against the principles of classical liberalism and compare it to other constitutions from the same period. Classical liberalism emphasizes individual liberty, limited government, rule of law, free markets, and protections for property rights and civil liberties, often drawing from thinkers like John Locke, Adam Smith, and John Stuart Mill. Let’s break this down systematically.
The Constitution of the Republic of South Africa, 1996, was enacted after the end of apartheid, approved by the Constitutional Court on December 4, 1996, and took effect on February 4, 1997. It is widely regarded as one of the most progressive constitutions globally, with a strong emphasis on human rights. Its key features include:
These features were designed to transition South Africa from apartheid to a democratic society, addressing historical inequalities while establishing a framework for governance. The drafting process involved extensive public participation and negotiations, ensuring broad legitimacy.
Classical liberalism prioritizes individual autonomy, limited government, economic freedom, and the rule of law, with a focus on protecting property rights and civil liberties while minimizing state intervention. Let’s assess how the South African Constitution aligns with these principles:
The Constitution thus incorporates many classical liberal principles but also includes elements associated with social liberalism or progressive constitutionalism, particularly its socio-economic rights and focus on redressing historical injustices. This blend makes it less purely classical liberal than, say, the U.S. Constitution as originally drafted, which emphasized limited government and property rights with minimal state intervention.
To determine if South Africa’s 1996 Constitution was the most classically liberal of its time, we need to compare it to other constitutions adopted or in force around the mid-1990s. This period saw several countries, particularly in post-communist Eastern Europe and other transitioning democracies, drafting new constitutions. Below are some key examples:
To be the most classically liberal, the South African Constitution would need to prioritize individual liberty, limited government, and economic freedom more strongly than its contemporaries, with minimal state intervention beyond protecting rights and maintaining order. Here’s how it stacks up:
The video “From Apartheid to Liberty: Carla Gericke’s Fight” likely highlights South Africa’s transition from apartheid to a constitutional democracy, emphasizing liberty and individual rights, as Gericke is associated with libertarian and classical liberal activism. This framing might suggest the 1996 Constitution as a triumph of liberal principles. However, while the Constitution marked a significant shift toward liberty compared to the apartheid regime, its progressive elements (e.g., socio-economic rights, land reform) mean it incorporates ideas beyond classical liberalism, unlike more market-focused constitutions of the time.
It is not entirely fair to describe the South African Constitution of 1996 as the most classically liberal constitution of its time. While it strongly embodies classical liberal principles like individual liberties, rule of law, and separation of powers, its inclusion of socio-economic rights and provisions for state-driven redress (e.g., land reform, affirmative action) introduces significant deviations from classical liberalism’s emphasis on limited government and laissez-faire economics. Constitutions like the Czech Republic’s (1992) or Poland’s (1997), with their stronger market orientations, may align more closely with classical liberalism in certain respects. However, South Africa’s Constitution stands out for its comprehensive rights protections and democratic framework, making it one of the most progressive and rights-focused constitutions of its era, even if not the most purely classical liberal.
To determine whether the Seabrook Nuclear Power Plant in New Hampshire, now commonly referred to as Seabrook Station, supplies 20–25% of the Eastern Seaboard’s energy, we need to evaluate the claim based on available data about the plant’s energy output and the energy consumption of the Eastern Seaboard. Let’s break this down systematically, using the provided web results and additional context where necessary.
Seabrook Station is a nuclear power plant located in Seabrook, New Hampshire, operating since 1990. It has a single pressurized water reactor with an electrical output capacity of approximately 1,244–1,296 megawatts (MW), depending on the source. Here are key points from the provided information:
The term “Eastern Seaboard” typically refers to the eastern coastal states of the United States, stretching from Maine to Florida. For energy purposes, this often aligns with regions covered by specific power grids, such as:
The Eastern Seaboard’s electricity consumption is vast, encompassing millions of customers across these grids. To assess the claim, we’ll focus primarily on ISO New England (since Seabrook is in New Hampshire) and consider broader Eastern Seaboard consumption for context.
Seabrook Station generates approximately 10 million MWh annually, based on its 1,244–1,296 MW capacity operating at near-full capacity year-round (typical for nuclear plants with high capacity factors, often ~90–95%). This output is significant but needs to be compared to the total electricity consumption of the Eastern Seaboard.
The Eastern Seaboard includes multiple grid regions, each with distinct consumption levels. Let’s estimate the electricity consumption for key regions:
For a rough estimate, the Eastern Seaboard (Maine to Florida) likely consumes ~1,500–2,000 TWh (1.5–2 trillion MWh) annually, based on aggregating these regions. This is a broad estimate, as consumption varies by year and data source.
To supply 20–25% of the Eastern Seaboard’s energy, Seabrook would need to provide:
Seabrook’s output of 10 million MWh is far below this, representing only 0.5–0.67% of the Eastern Seaboard’s estimated total consumption (10 ÷ 1,500–2,000). Even within ISO New England alone, Seabrook’s 10 million MWh accounts for ~7.7–8.3% of the region’s 120–130 million MWh, not 20–25%.
The claim that Seabrook supplies 20–25% of the Eastern Seaboard’s energy is not supported by the data. However, there are some contexts where the figure might be misinterpreted:
You mentioned that Seabrook Nuclear Power Plant “has a new name.” The facility is consistently referred to as Seabrook Station in recent sources, a name used since at least the 1980s. There is no evidence of a recent name change, but “Seabrook Station” is the formal name, while “Seabrook Nuclear Power Plant” is a common descriptor. If you’re referring to a specific rebranding or nickname, please clarify, and I can investigate further.
To support your argument that Seabrook Station is a key asset for New Hampshire’s energy independence, emphasizing its role as a sustainable and green energy source, I’ll provide accurate, standalone facts about Seabrook Station’s contributions, focusing on its capacity, output, environmental benefits, and significance to New Hampshire as if it were an independent entity. I’ll avoid conflating Seabrook’s data with other plants (e.g., Millstone) and tailor the information to bolster your case for New Hampshire’s energy self-sufficiency through nuclear power. All data is drawn from reliable sources and calculations, ensuring accuracy as of July 17, 2025.
Seabrook Station, located in Seabrook, New Hampshire, is a single-unit pressurized water reactor nuclear power plant, operational since 1990. Below are precise, standalone statements about its role in New Hampshire’s energy landscape, emphasizing sustainability and green energy credentials.
For an independent New Hampshire, Seabrook Station is a linchpin for energy independence due to:
Your earlier questions highlighted confusion from claims like Seabrook supplying 20–25% of the Eastern Seaboard (incorrect, as it’s <1%) or 1.2–1.4 million homes (which applies to Seabrook and Millstone combined). For clarity:
The video “From Apartheid to Liberty: Carla Gericke’s Fight” likely emphasizes New Hampshire’s potential for self-reliance, possibly highlighting Seabrook’s role given Gericke’s libertarian advocacy and involvement with the Free State Project. While I don’t have the transcript, the video’s focus on liberty and New Hampshire secession aligns with your energy independence argument. Seabrook’s dominance in the state’s electricity supply supports the narrative of New Hampshire as a self-sufficient “little country,” especially with nuclear power’s green and reliable attributes.
To bolster your case for New Hampshire’s energy independence:
If you need specific data (e.g., New Hampshire’s exact consumption, renewable mix, or export potential) or want me to analyze the Gericke video for relevant claims, I can dig deeper. I can also search X for recent discussions on Seabrook or New Hampshire’s energy to strengthen your case.
Seabrook Station alone generates 10 million MWh annually, powering ~950,000–1 million homes and providing 40–50% of New Hampshire’s electricity. It avoids 4 million tons of CO2 yearly, equivalent to removing ~700,000–800,000 cars, making it a green, sustainable source. For an independent New Hampshire, Seabrook ensures energy security, cost stability, and low-carbon power, covering nearly half the state’s needs with a single, reliable plant. Its license to 2050 and local economic benefits (650+ jobs) make it a cornerstone for a self-sufficient, green energy grid. Let me know if you need more data or specific talking points!
To evaluate the claim that in 1994, South Africa’s legal system was Roman-Dutch for common law, English for corporate law, and indigenous for customary law, we need to assess the accuracy of each component based on the historical context of South Africa’s legal framework at that time. The year 1994 is significant, as it marks the end of apartheid and the transition to a democratic government with the first multiracial elections and the adoption of an interim constitution. Let’s break down the claim systematically, focusing on the legal systems in place in 1994.
In 1994, South Africa was transitioning from the apartheid regime to a democratic state. The apartheid-era legal system was a complex hybrid, rooted in the country’s colonial history (Dutch and British) and modified to enforce racial segregation. The legal framework included:
The interim Constitution of 1993, effective from April 27, 1994, began reshaping this framework by prioritizing equality, human rights, and a unified legal system, but it did not immediately replace existing private, corporate, or customary law practices.
Let’s analyze the claim’s three parts: Roman-Dutch law for common law, English law for corporate law, and indigenous law for customary law.
The claim is largely accurate but requires nuance:
The claim that in 1994 South Africa’s legal system was Roman-Dutch for common law, English for corporate law, and indigenous for customary law is largely accurate:
Day 197 of My Living Xperiment: Upcoming in the @FreeStateNH! https://t.co/RtAk4Y4Tox
— Carla Gericke, Live Free And Thrive! (@CarlaGericke) July 14, 2025
I was recently quoted in REALTOR. Read the whole article HERE.
“They were pre-approved, but once they factored in taxes, insurance, maintenance, and closing costs, it was game over,” she says. “Run the numbers early. Use online tools. Talk to local Realtors®. Don’t fall in love with a house until you know the full monthly cost. (Or prepare to be sad).” ~ Carla Gericke
My Living Xperiment Day 195: An art project. https://t.co/OGZr4E8t9G
— Carla Gericke, Live Free And Thrive! (@CarlaGericke) July 12, 2025