Chris​Hubbs​.com

There’s a wonderful long-form profile on the Washington Post right now about Chris Mark, a man who eschewed an opportunity for a upper-class education to (literally) go work in the coal mines, and ended up revolutionizing coal mine safety. (That’s a gift link, so you can read it whether you’re a WaPo subscriber or not.) It’s a compelling story of a man, driven by some complex family dynamics, who found his niche and ended up in a government job where he could follow that interest in a direction that has resulted in countless miners’ lives saved over his career.

The value of experts in government driving regulation gets stated explicitly late in the piece:

Every now and then, however, Chris’s work slipped into public view. His coal mine roof rating was used all over the world and, in his own narrow circles, he was well known. In 2016 — the first year in recorded history that zero underground coal miners were killed by falling roofs — Chris landed in a public spat. He’d seen an article by an economic historian about the history of roof bolts in the Journal of Technology and Culture. The historian wanted to argue that roof bolts had taken 20 years to reduce fatality rates because it had taken 20 years for the coal mining industry to learn to use them. All by itself, the market had solved this worker safety problem! The government’s role, in his telling, was as a kind of gentle helpmate of industry. “It was kind of amazing,” said Chris. “What actually happened was the regulators were finally empowered to regulate. Regulators needed to be able to enforce. He elevated the role of technology. He minimized the role of regulators.”

Government functionaries can be an easy target for criticism, but this profile highlights the key and dedicated role that so many play in today’s society. In my own work I have encountered many Federal Aviation Administration employees who fit a similar profile. They found some particular niche interest related to flying, and they made it their life’s work to make it better and safer. It’s often a thankless job, and on a government pay scale that pales next to what they could likely make in industry.

(As a side note, this is part of what makes Trump’s Project 2025 intentions to politicize the civil service so terrifying: it would eliminate protections on just these dedicated experts to replace them with people who don’t know the topic but who donated to the right political cause. You wanna see the country (literally) crumble? Ditch all the regulatory experts like Chris Mark and replace them with Heritage Foundation interns.)

I really appreciated A.R. Moxon’s weekend post framing up the “Weird” discourse from the past week. (This long-ish excerpt is still really just an excerpt. Worth reading the whole thing.)

Not so very long ago, it wasn’t normal to be trans or gay or even nonconforming to very strict gender roles in any way. It wasn’t normal to be a woman with a powerful job. It wasn’t even normal to be a woman with a paid job of any kind. It wasn’t normal or even legal to be a woman with a bank account. It wasn’t normal to be a woman who could just chart their own way in life, and make their own decisions about their bodies and their lives for themselves. And it wasn’t normal to be Jewish, it wasn’t normal to be Muslim, it wasn’t normal to be Hindu, it wasn’t normal to be an atheist; nor was it normal to be Black, or Asian, or any identity in a category called “nonwhite” that people used without really thinking about it. It wasn’t normal to be chronically sick or disabled, and it certainly wasn’t normal to expect to be treated as a full member of society if your way of being was not normal. And there were many many other ways of being that weren’t normal either. They were different, other—weird.

Some of these ways of being abnormal were permitted to a degree, others were not. They were permitted by The Normal Ones, who had the license to decide what identity was, and to establish the strictures which that identity must remain, outside of which that identity could not stray. And not so very long ago, one of the main requirements for anyone with a “weird” identity who was receiving from license for that identity was that they would agree that The Normal Ones had the right to bestow such a license, because they and only they were truly normal.

It was normal to be white. It was normal to be a Christian. It was normal to be a man with a job, and it was normal to be a woman who was a man’s property. It was normal for children to be viewed as property of the parents, which (see previous point) meant the property of the man. It was normal to be straight and cis. It was normal to be able-bodied and employed. More importantly, though, these were the only normal things to be. To not be those things was to be abnormal, and to be abnormal was to be at the mercy of The Normal Ones.

Abuse—by those who were normal, of those who were not normal—used to be normal, and not ever acknowledging how all the most normal forms of abuse actually were abuse was most normal of all. It was perfectly normal to be racist, misogynist, a religious bigot, as a way of defending and maintaining normalcy, which was a way of defending who did and who did not have the right to make decisions about what identities would be permitted, and to what extent the permission would be allowed. So rape was normal, and bigotry was normal, and exclusion and threats and punishment and murder of those who committed the offense of trespassing the established boundaries of what ways of being human would be permitted by normal people was normal.

I fooled you. All of that is still normal. But increasingly, more and more of us are moving on from all that. We’re done with it.

Imperfectly, to be sure, haltingly, no doubt. Sometimes it feels as if we’ve been scaling a mountain face and only recently passed through some clouds, allowing us a view, previously obscured, of what lay above—and so the distance we’ve come often only affords us a better view of how much further we have to climb. I know some would like to use the daunting climb looming above us to claim that we haven’t climbed at all. But, if we are attentive and look downward long enough, we can see, peeking through the clouds, the vast prospect of rigid and supremacist normalcy we’ve left behind. We can see all the ways of being a human that used to depend upon normalized bigotry for permission to exist but which now give themselves their own permission to exist, without seeking any other. We can see more and more identities that are now considered normal, and more and more of the abuse that once was granted as normal is now recognized, from loftier vantage, for the abnormal perversion it is.

Preach, brother Moxon, preach.