Diplomatic immunity and the date that will live in infamy
Alan Whitaker at the Monarchy of Christania
“I’m not the owner of the land,” he would say. “I’m only the procurator. You’ll have to talk to the man when he gets back.” To be sure, this made him an unusual neighbor for Jane Fonda and Ronald Reagan, who also had property on the mountain side of the San Marcos Pass. It was also a surprisingly effective response to the questions of anyone who claimed to be an authority. He was beyond question.
The kingdom I called home when I was 17 years old was high above the city of Santa Barbara, high above the ocean stretching out toward the Channel Islands. My friend Steve lived there in a lovely house with a garden and a loft with a reproduction of Van Gogh’s Sunflowers on loan from the public library. He introduced me to Alan, who seemed to think I was the right type to follow the laws of the tiny country.
I was granted a house for which I was to pay a small amount, though I was not exactly clear on the date that payment was due. One month to the day after I moved in, I came home to a note from Alan in an envelope with money enclosed. Since I had not paid what was due, he was paying me the money in what he considered to be a Christian gesture. By that time, I had spent a considerable amount of time with Alan and I knew it would not be wise to keep the money.
I remember one time we got stopped by the police as we were leaving the property to go dumpster diving. The officer asked for Alan’s license and registration. Alan handed him something with a photo on it, his “prison ID” he said it was. “I don’t need a license,” he told the officer. “I’ve got dip-lo-matic immunity!”
A routine inspection revealed the vehicle license plates had been altered. Christania and California have the same number of letters, and Alan had painted over the state name with the name of the kingdom. The officer wished us a good night, and we continued on our way without further incident.
I spent many long hours eating avocados and listening to Alan talk explain his philosophy of aura love, which he was convinced could be used in conjunction with the power of a plywood pyramid he slept in to reverse the aging process. He told me about how he would send money to all the judges who were involved in legal action against him, how it wasn’t bribery, that he was “blasting holes in their aura” by sending them money in return for their poor judgment.
When a judge would fall ill, he said it was because they accepted the money. I think he had a twisted and perverse understanding of what Jesus meant when he said to “turn the other cheek” when someone has wronged us. It was disturbing. I preferred listening to him sing “Waltzing Matilda” on his old piano or his folk guitar.
It seems there finally was a judge who didn’t get sick. The legal proceedings Alan had hoped to prevent moved forward. An order was signed for our houses to be bulldozed on “a date which will live in infamy,” December 7, 1987. This was 46 years to the day after the Japanese attacked the United States of America at Pearl Harbor. That was 34 years ago today.
I did not chain myself to my house in protest as I might have done. I was 17 years old. If I had done that, I was certain to be taken into custody by the authorities, which would have limited my freedom even more than being in exile. So I carried on. I encourage you to learn from my story.
Notice how there is a kernel of truth in everything false. Acknowledge whenever there may be something misleading or false about a true story.
Recognize that who you are is not dependent on circumstances, but the right thing to do is.
Respond by acting as an ambassador for a heavenly country that may not yet be recognized on Earth. Carry out your duties as you would if you had diplomatic immunity from earthly laws and concerns. Do what is right above what is legal. Follow your conscience above all things.
* GODSPEED stands for “Gather Only Data in Sync with the Purpose of Every Excellent Deed.”
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