The political philosophy we call Goldwater Republicanism--low taxes, limited regulation, strong defense, mind your own business--is a lot older than Barry Goldwater. It was the core philosophy of the Frontier West, of course. Phoenix is regarded as its spiritual capital because of Eugene Pulliam, for many decades the owner and publisher of the Arizona Republic. That paper was bought by Gannett a dozen years ago, and since then it has been in a downhill slide of progressive irrelevance. About all that remains in the Republic of the Pulliam spirit of Goldwater Republicanism is Doug MacEachern--one of about a billion editorial writers, most of whom are doe-eyed stenographers for the people cannibalizing what little is left of the frontier character of the West. Note that I am not endorsing a political party--I hate them all--just the economic freedom that made Phoenix great. This is MacEachern on the Lilliputian enemies of that liberty, who work tirelessly to tie-down this giant Thunderbird:

Get a grip on the growing tyranny of politically adept neighborhood groups.

The flip side of all those aggrieved neighbors who opposed building the so-called Trump high-rise (it was neither The Donald's own project nor a "high-rise" in any serious sense of the term) is that there were plenty of others in the neighborhood who supported the project. I've met with them. Talked with them. Looked at the bullying, browbeating lawyer letters that the anti-Trump activists had sent to them.

I could gripe about all the undeserved nobility assigned to the opponents of development in the East Camelback area, but, really, they acted no different from countless other neighborhood groups that have come before them. Their power is in opposing. And in their growing effectiveness, they are giving us all a textbook lesson in the perils of direct democracy.

Phoenix is in a precarious position. The outlying cities are growing, including their commercial centers. If Phoenix is to keep pace at all, much less thrive, it must tend its commercial gardens. By placating activist "neighbors," many of whom don't even live in the affected 26th Street subdivision, the Phoenix council is putting at risk one of its most vibrant commercial cores.

Absolutist-minded neighborhood activism is probably the purest example I can imagine of Arizona's rejection of the power structure that once existed here.