"The Professor of Denial: How a prolific academic became an advocate for some of the strangest and most odious ideas of our time."
THE CHRONICLE OF HIGHER EDUCATION/CHRONICLE REVIEW, Feb. 14, 2020
James H. Fetzer leans back in his chair, folds his arms over his gut, tucks his chin into his thick neck, and furrows his bushy eyebrows in what seems a cultivated pose of ponderment. He has shaggy white hair and is dressed in academic sloppy-chic: tweed blazer with elbow patches; wrinkled, red polo shirt; baggy, cuffed khakis; and boxy, white New Balance sneakers. His rimless, rectangular spectacles serve mostly as a prop that he takes on and off to accentuate his mood.
At almost 79, the retired philosophy professor has the waddling gait of a stocky man starting to shrink with advancing years. But here in a Wisconsin courtroom in October, Fetzer is every bit the tempestuous man he was in the classroom: animated, bellicose, and unflaggingly confident in his intellectual superiority.
Across the courtroom, Fetzer’s longtime nemesis is stoic by contrast. Leonard Pozner is soft-spoken and restrained. In a dark-gray suit and salt-and-pepper goatee, Pozner, 52, is thinner and more polished than in the old photos of him still frequently used in the media. Fetzer says he’s too thin, too young-looking, and too goateed to be who he says he is: the father of the youngest victim of the 2012 mass shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Conn. Fetzer thinks Pozner is a phony ("probably Mossad") and doesn’t believe his son or the 19 other children slaughtered in their first-grade classrooms ever existed.
In the seven years since the shooting, Fetzer has leveraged his academic credentials to become a leading voice in a community of skeptics who argue the Sandy Hook tragedy and other mass shootings are hoaxes. On his blog and in a book, Nobody Died at Sandy Hook: It Was a FEMA Drill to Promote Gun Control, Fetzer accuses Pozner of circulating a fake death certificate for a fictitious child when he tried to prove his son had lived and died. Those statements are the focus of Pozner’s lawsuit against Fetzer, who lives in Wisconsin. With DNA tests, government documents, an affidavit from the funeral home, and Pozner’s son’s medical files in the court record, the judge has already ruled for Pozner on summary judgment and declared Fetzer’s statements false and defamatory. The jury is here only to decide how much Fetzer’s lies should cost him...
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THE CHRONICLE OF HIGHER EDUCATION/CHRONICLE REVIEW, Feb. 14, 2020
James H. Fetzer leans back in his chair, folds his arms over his gut, tucks his chin into his thick neck, and furrows his bushy eyebrows in what seems a cultivated pose of ponderment. He has shaggy white hair and is dressed in academic sloppy-chic: tweed blazer with elbow patches; wrinkled, red polo shirt; baggy, cuffed khakis; and boxy, white New Balance sneakers. His rimless, rectangular spectacles serve mostly as a prop that he takes on and off to accentuate his mood.
At almost 79, the retired philosophy professor has the waddling gait of a stocky man starting to shrink with advancing years. But here in a Wisconsin courtroom in October, Fetzer is every bit the tempestuous man he was in the classroom: animated, bellicose, and unflaggingly confident in his intellectual superiority.
Across the courtroom, Fetzer’s longtime nemesis is stoic by contrast. Leonard Pozner is soft-spoken and restrained. In a dark-gray suit and salt-and-pepper goatee, Pozner, 52, is thinner and more polished than in the old photos of him still frequently used in the media. Fetzer says he’s too thin, too young-looking, and too goateed to be who he says he is: the father of the youngest victim of the 2012 mass shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Conn. Fetzer thinks Pozner is a phony ("probably Mossad") and doesn’t believe his son or the 19 other children slaughtered in their first-grade classrooms ever existed.
In the seven years since the shooting, Fetzer has leveraged his academic credentials to become a leading voice in a community of skeptics who argue the Sandy Hook tragedy and other mass shootings are hoaxes. On his blog and in a book, Nobody Died at Sandy Hook: It Was a FEMA Drill to Promote Gun Control, Fetzer accuses Pozner of circulating a fake death certificate for a fictitious child when he tried to prove his son had lived and died. Those statements are the focus of Pozner’s lawsuit against Fetzer, who lives in Wisconsin. With DNA tests, government documents, an affidavit from the funeral home, and Pozner’s son’s medical files in the court record, the judge has already ruled for Pozner on summary judgment and declared Fetzer’s statements false and defamatory. The jury is here only to decide how much Fetzer’s lies should cost him...
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"Today's definition of 'working class' is leaving people out"
THE HARTFORD COURANT, Aug. 2, 2019
It was a folksy turn of phrase that stood out in Tuesday’s Democratic presidential debate, but every time I thought of Ohio Rep. Tim Ryan’s definition of working class — echoed by other candidates over both nights — I kept thinking of all the people left out.
For too many years and too many elections, both parties have evoked a dated, gendered and white definition of the working class: the factory man, the steelworker, the “people that take a shower after work, who haven't had a raise in 30 years,” as Ryan said.
Frankly, in today’s economy, that type of rhetoric excludes too many working-class voters — most notably women, African-Americans and young people, who are more likely to work in the service industry, health care and low-paid office jobs of the modern U.S. economy. These are jobs where you shower before work, and you may never get a chance to join a union.
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THE HARTFORD COURANT, Aug. 2, 2019
It was a folksy turn of phrase that stood out in Tuesday’s Democratic presidential debate, but every time I thought of Ohio Rep. Tim Ryan’s definition of working class — echoed by other candidates over both nights — I kept thinking of all the people left out.
For too many years and too many elections, both parties have evoked a dated, gendered and white definition of the working class: the factory man, the steelworker, the “people that take a shower after work, who haven't had a raise in 30 years,” as Ryan said.
Frankly, in today’s economy, that type of rhetoric excludes too many working-class voters — most notably women, African-Americans and young people, who are more likely to work in the service industry, health care and low-paid office jobs of the modern U.S. economy. These are jobs where you shower before work, and you may never get a chance to join a union.
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"Volunteers"
THE MIDNIGHT OIL, Spring 2018
The pumpkin vines started popping out of the compost pit in the summer, a few weeks after he was gone. The wide, sun-thirsty leaves stretched up and out of the decay toward the mottled light that peeked through the branches of a large walnut tree.
A novice, I had thought we could garden here, in this unusual stretch of wooded backyard three houses long, right in the middle of the city. He was the one who helped me plant out front where the sun was strong instead, leaving the backyard to the walnuts, squirrels, dandelions, and compost.
But here they were now in the backyard of the community house: pumpkin vines popping out of the rot of their forebears, sprouting from discarded guts. Something new from the ruin. One after another...
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THE MIDNIGHT OIL, Spring 2018
The pumpkin vines started popping out of the compost pit in the summer, a few weeks after he was gone. The wide, sun-thirsty leaves stretched up and out of the decay toward the mottled light that peeked through the branches of a large walnut tree.
A novice, I had thought we could garden here, in this unusual stretch of wooded backyard three houses long, right in the middle of the city. He was the one who helped me plant out front where the sun was strong instead, leaving the backyard to the walnuts, squirrels, dandelions, and compost.
But here they were now in the backyard of the community house: pumpkin vines popping out of the rot of their forebears, sprouting from discarded guts. Something new from the ruin. One after another...
READ MORE
Photo by Gina Easley.
"Other People's Clothes" (nominated for PUSHCART PRIZE)
FULL GROWN PEOPLE, 1 Feb 2018
The dress was stiff and boxy, made from that awful faux-suede fabric my mother wore in the 1970s, rubbery on the inside and velveteen on the outside. It was far too large for me. The pressure of my office chair pushed the collar up toward my chin so that the shoulder pads seemed cantilevered from my neck, and the belt, otherwise too low for my waist, found a niche in my short torso to rest. And while the deep merlot color of the dress would have been acceptable on another day, today I was certain it brought out the shadows under my sleepless eyes and the bruises darkening on my upper arms.
I sat at my desk in the sunny ninth-floor newsroom of Phoenix’s daily newspaper with my legs crisscrossed underneath me and my shoulders hunched, folded into myself as if trying to construct a purple faux-suede wall around my heart. I had spent my entire adult life in newsrooms, where there is no escape behind office doors or cubicle walls, and I usually relished the collective energy—the perpetual chatter, collegial banter, ringing phones and occasional shouting—that sucks you into your role as a cog in the daily grind.
The distraction of a busy newsroom, where I could never wallow in my own thoughts for too long, had kept me going for years as my personal life fell into shambles. On this day, though, I struggled to concentrate as I put together simple items for Sunday’s political column. I wanted to disappear. I practiced not looking up, not catching eyes, staring at the flashing cursor on the white screen of my computer. When that didn’t work, I fled one floor down to the brown tweed couch in the small, austere parlor off the women’s bathroom that was set up for nursing moms, locked the door, and cried...
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FULL GROWN PEOPLE, 1 Feb 2018
The dress was stiff and boxy, made from that awful faux-suede fabric my mother wore in the 1970s, rubbery on the inside and velveteen on the outside. It was far too large for me. The pressure of my office chair pushed the collar up toward my chin so that the shoulder pads seemed cantilevered from my neck, and the belt, otherwise too low for my waist, found a niche in my short torso to rest. And while the deep merlot color of the dress would have been acceptable on another day, today I was certain it brought out the shadows under my sleepless eyes and the bruises darkening on my upper arms.
I sat at my desk in the sunny ninth-floor newsroom of Phoenix’s daily newspaper with my legs crisscrossed underneath me and my shoulders hunched, folded into myself as if trying to construct a purple faux-suede wall around my heart. I had spent my entire adult life in newsrooms, where there is no escape behind office doors or cubicle walls, and I usually relished the collective energy—the perpetual chatter, collegial banter, ringing phones and occasional shouting—that sucks you into your role as a cog in the daily grind.
The distraction of a busy newsroom, where I could never wallow in my own thoughts for too long, had kept me going for years as my personal life fell into shambles. On this day, though, I struggled to concentrate as I put together simple items for Sunday’s political column. I wanted to disappear. I practiced not looking up, not catching eyes, staring at the flashing cursor on the white screen of my computer. When that didn’t work, I fled one floor down to the brown tweed couch in the small, austere parlor off the women’s bathroom that was set up for nursing moms, locked the door, and cried...
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"Love & Vitriol" - album by Former Friends of Young Americans
Released December 2018. Songwriting and performance (vocals, flute, keys, percussion) for album, including the lyrics for the following songs. Click the link to see lyrics, listen, download or order CD on BandCamp:
STREAM THE FULL ALBUM ON YOUTUBE.
Released December 2018. Songwriting and performance (vocals, flute, keys, percussion) for album, including the lyrics for the following songs. Click the link to see lyrics, listen, download or order CD on BandCamp:
- "Muddy Creek"
- "Solace"
- "Redwood Beach"
- "Last Love"
STREAM THE FULL ALBUM ON YOUTUBE.
"Fight Club Rules for Thanksgiving 2017"
HUFFINGTON POST, 21 NOV 2017
It’s the first Thanksgiving of President Donald J. Trump’s presidency, Americans are more divided than ever, and now it is time to head home for the holiday. In anticipation of the skirmishes expected across millions of turkey carcasses, we offer you a script of handy rules, adapted from everyone’s favorite family film, “Fight Club.”
Welcome to THANKSGIVING 2017:
1st rule: You do not talk about THANKSGIVING.
2nd rule: You DO NOT talk about THANKSGIVING (especially not its origin story involving refugees and race relations)...
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HUFFINGTON POST, 21 NOV 2017
It’s the first Thanksgiving of President Donald J. Trump’s presidency, Americans are more divided than ever, and now it is time to head home for the holiday. In anticipation of the skirmishes expected across millions of turkey carcasses, we offer you a script of handy rules, adapted from everyone’s favorite family film, “Fight Club.”
Welcome to THANKSGIVING 2017:
1st rule: You do not talk about THANKSGIVING.
2nd rule: You DO NOT talk about THANKSGIVING (especially not its origin story involving refugees and race relations)...
READ MORE
Photo: Abby Potter. Community members hold candles at the Bowling Green Massacre Remembrance Gathering Feb. 3, 2016.
"Dear Mr. President: A Dispatch From Bowling Green"
HUFFINGTON POST, 3 Feb 2017
Dear Mr. President:
I write to you today from the small picturesque American town of Bowling Green, Kentucky, which I was shocked to learn from Kellyanne this week was the site of the #BowlingGreenMassacre.
At first, I thought maybe she was talking about the town in Ohio. They have Bowling Green State University and are always getting confused with us. Also, they are located in a swing state and, as a political journalist, I don’t trust anything coming out of Ohio right now . . .
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HUFFINGTON POST, 3 Feb 2017
Dear Mr. President:
I write to you today from the small picturesque American town of Bowling Green, Kentucky, which I was shocked to learn from Kellyanne this week was the site of the #BowlingGreenMassacre.
At first, I thought maybe she was talking about the town in Ohio. They have Bowling Green State University and are always getting confused with us. Also, they are located in a swing state and, as a political journalist, I don’t trust anything coming out of Ohio right now . . .
READ MORE
Election 2016 Coverage for High Times
"Election 2016: Can North Dakota Get Medical Marijuana Over the Finish Line?" 4 Nov 2016
A last-minute infusion of campaign cash from the Drug Policy Alliance is hoping to get a volunteer-led medical marijuana initiative in North Dakota over the finish line...
"Election 2016: Fighting Back After the Montana Legislature Undermined MMJ," 24 Oct 2016
In Big Sky Country, where cannabis caravans once freely roamed signing up hundreds of medical marijuana patients a day, the future of the crumbling industry is on the ballot...
"Election 2016: How Arkansas Screwed the Pooch," 17 Oct 2016
A medical marijuana initiative in Arkansas cleared two recent legal hurdles but still faces a tough race on Election Day.
And this time, legalization advocates have no one to blame but themselves: An internecine fight has made for bad blood between two pro-reform camps...
In Mocking Rape Culture, My University Revealed Our Own
MS. MAGAZINE, Sept. 28, 2016
A few days ago, my small public university in Kentucky was plunged into a national controversy involving sexual assault.
There wasn’t a high-profile rape case or a victim who came forward to share her story. We’ve had our share of scandal, and I have no doubt sexual assault is a too common and under-reported problem, as it is on campuses across the country. But this time rape culture reared its head in the enthusiasm leading up to Saturday’s football game against Vanderbilt University, a rival school just one hour south rocked by a 2013 gang rape involving football players...
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MS. MAGAZINE, Sept. 28, 2016
A few days ago, my small public university in Kentucky was plunged into a national controversy involving sexual assault.
There wasn’t a high-profile rape case or a victim who came forward to share her story. We’ve had our share of scandal, and I have no doubt sexual assault is a too common and under-reported problem, as it is on campuses across the country. But this time rape culture reared its head in the enthusiasm leading up to Saturday’s football game against Vanderbilt University, a rival school just one hour south rocked by a 2013 gang rape involving football players...
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[Family Secret]
CREATIVE NONFICTION, Spring 2016
Experimental memoir essay featured as the "Exploring the Boundaries" piece in the prestigious literary journal's Spring 2016 issue.
Reasonable Doubt? Rolling Stone’s Missteps Fuel Disbelief of Rape Victims
MS. MAGAZINE, Dec. 8, 2014
Not long ago, I overheard a snippet of conversation among my college students. Another professor had talked about rape in class that morning. The professor didn’t talk about the prevalence of sexual assault on college campuses or the egregious way that universities were addressing (or, rather, not addressing) reports of rape. Instead, a student said, she warned the young men in the class to be careful: Women make shit up.
My heart sank. Here we are in the middle of a crisis of sexual assault on college campuses, as institutions like mine are evaluating and revamping how they handle offenses, and these young women (who, statistically, are at risk) were confronted with that message in the classroom. It was yet another reminder of how much doubt is out there waiting for victims if they speak up.
In that regard, Friday’s apology by Rolling Stone magazine, in which it all but retracted its stunning and graphic story about a gang rape in a fraternity house at the University of Virginia, is devastating. It’s a devastating blow to journalists like me who believe in the power of the narrative writing technique used in this story. And it causes real harm by bolstering the belief that “women make shit up.”...
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MS. MAGAZINE, Dec. 8, 2014
Not long ago, I overheard a snippet of conversation among my college students. Another professor had talked about rape in class that morning. The professor didn’t talk about the prevalence of sexual assault on college campuses or the egregious way that universities were addressing (or, rather, not addressing) reports of rape. Instead, a student said, she warned the young men in the class to be careful: Women make shit up.
My heart sank. Here we are in the middle of a crisis of sexual assault on college campuses, as institutions like mine are evaluating and revamping how they handle offenses, and these young women (who, statistically, are at risk) were confronted with that message in the classroom. It was yet another reminder of how much doubt is out there waiting for victims if they speak up.
In that regard, Friday’s apology by Rolling Stone magazine, in which it all but retracted its stunning and graphic story about a gang rape in a fraternity house at the University of Virginia, is devastating. It’s a devastating blow to journalists like me who believe in the power of the narrative writing technique used in this story. And it causes real harm by bolstering the belief that “women make shit up.”...
READ MORE
Nogales
HIPPOCAMPUS MAGAZINE, Memorable Creative Nonfiction, March 2016
Bring change for the indigenous women, prostrate on the sidewalk, and the dainty children holding hand-painted bobble-headed turtles in open palms.
Don’t think about germs as you grip the gray carousel gate into Mexico. Consider why you didn’t bring hand sanitizer. Consider whether considering makes you racist.
Don’t speak French just because it is the only foreign language you know. Say “si,” not “oui.” Practice: “Hola.” “Maquiladoras.” ...
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HIPPOCAMPUS MAGAZINE, Memorable Creative Nonfiction, March 2016
Bring change for the indigenous women, prostrate on the sidewalk, and the dainty children holding hand-painted bobble-headed turtles in open palms.
Don’t think about germs as you grip the gray carousel gate into Mexico. Consider why you didn’t bring hand sanitizer. Consider whether considering makes you racist.
Don’t speak French just because it is the only foreign language you know. Say “si,” not “oui.” Practice: “Hola.” “Maquiladoras.” ...
READ MORE
Grand Canyon on the Precipice: Planned developments spark concern over commercialization of America's most iconic park.
NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC, Aug. 14, 2014
At the eastern edge of the Grand Canyon, well beyond the tourists who crowd along the South Rim, sagebrush desert stretches for miles, almost untouched except by wild horses or the livestock of Navajo herdsmen. Below, the turquoise water of the Little Colorado River flows into the larger and darker Colorado, their courses merging within the burnt sienna walls of the canyon. The confluence is considered sacred to some Native Americans—and awe-inspiring to others fortunate enough to visit the remote spot.
"Every time I go, I think about my place in the universe," says R. Lamar Whitmer, a Scottsdale, Arizona, developer. "When you look at God or the creator's handiwork, you can't help but feel special or that you are part of something."
That's why Whitmer says he wants to make this special part of the Grand Canyon accessible to the world. He and his partners are working with the Navajo Nation to build the Grand Canyon Escalade, a billion-dollar development with hotels, restaurants, shops, and a Navajo cultural center on the desolate canyon rim, almost 30 miles from the closest highway...
READ MORE
NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC, Aug. 14, 2014
At the eastern edge of the Grand Canyon, well beyond the tourists who crowd along the South Rim, sagebrush desert stretches for miles, almost untouched except by wild horses or the livestock of Navajo herdsmen. Below, the turquoise water of the Little Colorado River flows into the larger and darker Colorado, their courses merging within the burnt sienna walls of the canyon. The confluence is considered sacred to some Native Americans—and awe-inspiring to others fortunate enough to visit the remote spot.
"Every time I go, I think about my place in the universe," says R. Lamar Whitmer, a Scottsdale, Arizona, developer. "When you look at God or the creator's handiwork, you can't help but feel special or that you are part of something."
That's why Whitmer says he wants to make this special part of the Grand Canyon accessible to the world. He and his partners are working with the Navajo Nation to build the Grand Canyon Escalade, a billion-dollar development with hotels, restaurants, shops, and a Navajo cultural center on the desolate canyon rim, almost 30 miles from the closest highway...
READ MORE
Middle Man: Scott Smith brings a centrist platform to a packed Republican primary for governor.
PHOENIX Magazine, August 2014
Scott Smith, the former mayor of Mesa, wants you to think about his city – both your impression of it years ago, and its recent spate of positive press. The five private, nonprofit legacy colleges and universities that set up shop. The much-applauded Apple Inc. manufacturing plant. The new spring training facility for the Chicago Cubs. The rapid growth of Phoenix-Mesa Gateway Airport. The falling crime rates that have made Mesa one of the safest big cities in America ...
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PHOENIX Magazine, August 2014
Scott Smith, the former mayor of Mesa, wants you to think about his city – both your impression of it years ago, and its recent spate of positive press. The five private, nonprofit legacy colleges and universities that set up shop. The much-applauded Apple Inc. manufacturing plant. The new spring training facility for the Chicago Cubs. The rapid growth of Phoenix-Mesa Gateway Airport. The falling crime rates that have made Mesa one of the safest big cities in America ...
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You can find an archive of most of my Bloomberg News and Bloomberg Businessweek articles from 2011 to 2013 here.
“The Iron River: As Concerns Mount Over The Potential For Mexican Drug Cartel Violence To Spill Over The Border, A Steady Flow Of Firearms South From Phoenix Is Helping Give The Cartels Their Lethal Firepower.” October 2010
"Get Your Guns: Inside the Phoenix Gun Show." October 2010
Narrative Series & Interactive Digital Project
Running for A Life:
"Part 1: Leaving The Flock." Oct 21, 2007, P. A.1
"Part 2: Trying To Fit In.” Oct 22, 2007, P. A.1
Running for A Life:
"Part 1: Leaving The Flock." Oct 21, 2007, P. A.1
"Part 2: Trying To Fit In.” Oct 22, 2007, P. A.1
"Health Care's Foundation Crumbling." Jan. 15-20, 2005, P. A1
Six-day series on health care and Medicaid, featuring explanatory, investigative and human interest reporting.
