On depression

A Stone Boat (Faber & Faber 1994)
The Noonday Demon (Scribner 2002)

When we repress our anger, writes Susan Forward in her bestseller Toxic Parents, we will likely fall into depression. But not all cases of depression, the most common form of mental disorder, are the result of repressed anger. It may originate from existential causes: the infinite gamut of insoluble problems in life. However, in cases of repressed parental abuse cathartic anger may be a balsam for its cure. Colin Ross, who coined the term trauma model of mental disorders, believes that ‘anger is the most powerful anti-depressant in the market’. Andrew Solomon takes the opposite stance: he idealised the parent and repressed his anger, as I’ll try to show in this essay-review of his books.

Andrew Solomon✡

Solomon is a very peculiar writer, the son of a millionaire of Forest Laboratories: a company that manufactures psychiatric drugs. That we are immersed in the matrix of Big Pharma is evident in the compliments that The Noonday Demon has received, especially the compliments of those who have suffered from depression. I find this so scandalous that I must write this essay, especially because The Noonday Demon was in the New York Times bestseller list. The pseudoscientific propaganda that inundates The Noonday Demon through its 700 pages (I read the Spanish translation seventeen years ago) is such that I could have written a much longer essay-review.

The Noonday Demon received the National Book Award in 2001. Solomon has thus contributed to what Thomas Szasz calls the pharmacratic status quo. Although Solomon mentions Szasz and Elliot Valenstein, he omits to say that they and many other mental health professionals disagree with the biological theories that Solomon presents as fact. It is not even apparent that Solomon has read the dissident scholars. For example, in the 860 references that he boasts in The Noonday Demon he does not mention a single reference of my critical bibliography on psychiatry that I recommend (see below).
 

An American pandemic?

According to Solomon’s bestseller, almost twenty millions Americans suffer from depression. Solomon confesses in his book how he suffered from this malaise since his mother died, and he recounts the therapeutic odyssey he found in a psychiatric profession that he considers benign.

The ‘noonday demons’ was a religious metaphor used since the Low Middle Ages to describe what since the Renaissance would be called ‘melancholy’, and in our times ‘depression’. Through the centuries, those who have been in panic when these demons attack have been prone to experiment with all sorts of quack remedies. Solomon himself tried a magical ritual in Africa; standard psychiatric medication, and New Age alternative remedies. He even experimented with alcohol, cocaine and opium, as he confesses in his book.

Tom Szasz, perhaps the most famous psychiatrist in the United States, proposes to abolish involuntary psychiatry. Szasz doesn’t propose to ban the prescription of drugs for adults, always provided that the professional maintains well informed his client about the risks (something they rarely do). A great deal of the economic power of psychiatry rests on this not so obscure side of the profession, the voluntary side: something that blinds people like Solomon to see that the profession has a darker side.

If an individual wants to take drugs, whether tranquilizers, stimulants, anti-anxiety pills or even illegal drugs, he should be free to do it according to Szasz. Solomon goes beyond this and mentions cases in which people in panic solicited electroshock. Although shock treatment is sometimes voluntary, I don’t believe it should be legal. Solomon himself cites the case of a young woman who told him that after a shock session she forgot everything she had learned in law school. Solomon also cites the grotesque testimony of an individual that requested psychosurgery to eliminate his persistent depression, and the neuropsychiatrists performed it! (a pointless surgery, of course, because the problem was in his mind’s software, not in the brain’s hardware).

Those procedures affected the faculties of these voluntary patients, the remedy resulting worse than the illness, because psychiatry is an iatrogenic profession. If we keep in mind Colin Ross’ words about ‘anger, the best antidepressant in the market’, instead of these harmful treatments I would recommend a depressed patient to write a long letter to the parent who caused the crisis (I myself did it, as we shall see). This is what Sue Forward recommends in Toxic Parents. Alternatively, I would recommend talking with survivors of parental abuse. Forward describes her group therapies for neurotics; Ross describes the same for people in psychotic crises. In the worst of possible cases, say schizophrenia, I would recommend a Soteria-like house, although there are very few of them because the medical profession monopolises treatments.

What neither Solomon nor the orthodox psychiatrists understand is that, by medically treating those who have been abused at home, they promote a status quo that ought to change. Those who want a better society do not propose prohibiting the drugs that are voluntarily consumed. We want to eliminate the conditions that cause mental stress and disorders. However, we do point out that with the medical model of mental disorders we are heading toward the dystopia described by Aldous Huxley. In October of 1949, when Nineteen Eighty Four was published, Huxley wrote to Orwell a letter telling him that the totalitarian state would not control people with a boot on the face as in 1984 but through much more subtle forms of manipulation: the voluntary drugging in the
 

Brave new world

The efficacy of antidepressants, that started to be manufactured a few years after Huxley sent his letter to Orwell, has been enormously exaggerated by the pharmaceutical companies. Solomon ignores that, just like homeopathic meds, the antidepressant that his father distributes basically functions like a placebo: the power of suggestion and autosuggestion. Studies show that a considerable percentage of the people that are told that a marvellous antidepressant has just been discovered are cured of their depression although they were given sugar pills. This effect is called ‘placebo’ in the medical profession. The companies like the one that made Solomon’s father a rich man also minimise the side-effects of the antidepressants.

In a market society it is very difficult to find the study of an independent researcher about the effects of antidepressants. The few existent studies, say those by Peter Breggin and Joseph Glenmullen, have not been rebutted either by the companies that make the drugs, or by the psychiatrists who prescribe them. Breggin, a graduate Harvard psychiatrist, recommends stopping taking any sort of psychiatric meds. It’s irritating that my dust jacket has Solomon as ‘profoundly human’ when Solomon advises people suffering from depression not to stop taking drugs. He even confesses that he got mad with his aunt’s gerontologist because the good doctor advised her to stop taking Celexa (citalopram): the very drug that Solomon’s dad distributes.

As I said, Solomon writes about psychiatric theories as fact. Curiously, at the same time he recommends alternative treatments. Lots of them! Just as the race of birds in Alice in Wonderland, in Solomon’s book all sorts of therapies, allopathic, homeopathic and alternative, win the first price in the treatment of depression. In Solomon’s wonderland absolutely everything is recommended, from the most diverse forms of popular quackery to lobotomy. Since I only have the Spanish translation of The Noonday Demon I cannot quote Solomon verbatim in English (libraries in Mexico are very poor in their English section). But he certainly says that dozens of treatments, from Saint-John’s-wort to psychosurgery, are reasonably promising. If such quackery apparently gets results, it’s all due to the placebo effect.

Solomon’s book is inundated with incredible treatments, personal testimonies from his depressed acquaintances, and with the theories of biological psychiatry. For example, Solomon writes that some people who abuse stimulants also suffer from depression in the same family. To him, this indicates that there’s a ‘genetic predisposition’ for the consumption of cocaine and other stimulants.

It doesn’t occur to Solomon that there can be no genes responsible for addictions for the simple reason that the genes of our species are older than the making of these chemicals. For instance, a putative gene that moves the alcoholic individual to drink cannot exist because alcohol is chronologically more recent than the genotype of the alcoholic individual, and there have been no substantive changes in our species since the caveman. Similarly, Solomon’s claim that the type of drugs that his dad makes represents real medicine is unsupportable. For example, he recognises that cocaine heals depression, but he disapproves of it because it’s illegal. On the next page Solomon recognises that Xanax pills (alprazolam), a benzodiazepine, caused him unpleasant symptoms. Xanax is the anxiety killer that Solomon used to take: the very drug that made George Bush Sr. vomit in Japan during his presidency. According to Solomon, with this drug he could crash into a heavy sleep plagued with dreams. However, he does recommend it because it’s legal.

Solomon never reveals in his book that Ritalin (methylphenidate) can be moral and illegal in the adult who takes it without prescription, but that it can also be immoral and legal if it is administered to a child to control him at school. Instead, he reasons like the good boy of the establishment: the legality of his dad’s company makes those drugs, by definition, moral; and the illegality of cocaine and ecstasy makes them immoral. Solomon talks about the permanent damage in the brain’s dopaminergic systems caused by cocaine. But he omits to say that Zyprexa (olanzapine), the neuroleptic that the psychiatrist prescribed him, causes exactly the same damage. Similarly, Solomon talks about the withdrawal symptoms that cocaine causes, but he does not dissuade his readers from taking neuroleptics although akathisia is pretty similar to such symptoms. Curiously, Solomon says he would accept taking cocaine or ecstasy to cure his depression, but that the withdrawal symptoms made him have second thoughts. In another part of his book Solomon recognises that while alprazolam killed his anxiety during the depressive attacks, it converted him into an addict. In a magazine article Solomon confessed he used to take about twelve pills per day, but when he’s in another mood he states that the aetiology of his depression is purely existential.

The cocktail of psychiatric drugs that Solomon has taken for years includes Zoloft (sertraline), Xanax (alprazolam), Paxil (paroxetine), Navane (thiothixene), Valium (diazepam), BuSpar (buspirone), Wellbutrin (bupropion) and Zyprexa (olanzapine). Even though this suggests that Solomon believes in the medical model of mental disorders, he often talks of souls in pain. He writes that he ‘discovered something that should be called the soul’. Other times he appears as the spokesman of psychiatric biologicism. His book is a contradictory compendium of both explicit apologetics of biopsychiatry and soft criticism of biopsychiatry; of existential testimonies of depressed people, and the biological myths of the profession. He advertises Prozac (fluoxetine) and on another page he recognises that his mother complained about its side-effects. (If Prozac and the antidepressants work as placebos, the so-called ‘side-effects’ are in fact the primary effects, the only effects of the drug; and the antidepressant effect would be caused by the power of suggestion.) Solomon also presents a mixture of both: existential and biological problems as the cause of melancholy. He sensibly concedes that extreme poverty and homelessness may cause ‘depression’, but he unreasonably recommends treating the homeless with psychiatric drugs. He adds the remarkable statement that more than in any other case, the homeless’ resistance to take drugs is a symptom of a ‘disease’. Solomon quotes the scientists or pseudo-scientists who say that the cause of the addictions is ‘in the brain’, when common sense contradicts this bio-reductionist approach. Asian people for example would disagree that their gambling is in their defective brains. The same could be said of those Westerners who are addicted to shopping in a consumer-oriented society: the problem is in the culture, not in their brains.

In his book Solomon contradicts himself in a thousand ways. As a master of doublethink, he accepts both the medical model of mental disorders, and the trauma model of mental disorders when both are mutually exclusive. In his chapter about suicide he repeats the slogans of the psychiatrist, for example when he says that we got to understand that suicidal ideation is the result of mental illness, and that mental illnesses are treatable. He recommends electroshock. Not even the horrendous case-stories that he mentions awakened Solomon’s compassion. He didn’t condemn the psychiatric institutions that maintain them alive against their will. But when he writes about the suicide of his mother, Solomon turns suddenly into a compassionate son, and suicide is nothing else than an act of a tormented soul. However, Solomon didn’t condemn the nets he saw in Norristown Hospital that maintained alive patients like mosquitoes in cobwebs to prevent that they killed themselves. They were strangers to him and he accepts involuntary therapies applied to them. But double-thinker Solomon confesses that nothing causes him more horror than the thought that he would be prevented from committing suicide.
 

The ‘unacknowledged revenge’ on mother

Throughout my reading of Solomon’s book the question came to my mind: How is it that someone like me, who writes in a state of virtual poverty in the Third World, never fell in depressions while Solomon, the American junior who spent a fortune in treatments didn’t only suffer from the common blues, but of horrible depressions? Could it be that Solomon has not listened to what Stefan Zweig, the biographer of tormented souls, called the daimon?

Let me explain myself. Solomon writes about some children whose parents took to the psychiatrist’s office for anger therapy. Solomon completely omits to say that this was probably due to child abuse at home. Once the legit anger is crushed in the therapeutic sessions, the shrinks acknowledge that the children fell into a melancholic state (remember Ross’ equation about anger and depression being inversely proportional to each other). Those children are, again, strangers to Solomon and he doesn’t pity them. But in another part of his book Solomon recognises that his depression originated after his mother died. And it was precisely a conflict with his mother, who hated Solomon’s sexuality, what had moved him to write another book: A Stone Boat.

I must confess that what moved me to write this essay-review is my literary project that I have written in Spanish and that I would love to see published in English. Alas, the subject is such a taboo that more than twenty publishing houses in Spain and Mexico have rejected it. There’s an almost symmetrical antithesis between the first of my books, Letter to Mom Medusa and A Stone Boat. Also, there’s an almost symmetrical antithesis between my second book How to Murder Your Child’s Soul and The Noonday Demon.

A Stone Boat is an autobiographical novel in which Solomon eludes discharging the rage he feels toward his mother. In The Noonday Demon Solomon mentions A Stone Boat quite a few times as a description of real events of his life, not as a fictional novel. Unlike The Noonday Demon I do have an English copy of it and can, at last, quote this homosexual writer. Solomon wrote:

I can remember days… that this secret [his sexual preferences] was my unacknowledged revenge on her. I would lie in the silence of my room and imagine the pain I would later cause my mother.

Although on the next page he writes: ‘I wanted somehow to take the unspeakable vengeance’, in the balance A Stone Boat is a politically-correct confessional novel: Solomon is afraid of speaking out the whole truth of his sentiments. The plot starts when the main character, Solomon’s alter ego, arrived in Paris to confront his mother because of her attitude toward his male lover.

I set off to Paris in anger, determined for the first time to act upon anger… I was, at best, trying to see my life as separate from my mother’s.

But he couldn’t. Upon arriving he discovered that his mother had cancer.

Perhaps I was angrier that week than I remember, but I think in fact that when I first saw that my mother might be sick, my anger got put away somewhere, and my mother became as glorious to me as she had been in my childhood.

Hence, writes Solomon, ‘through I had gone to France to sever ties’, the beatific vision continued until she died. In the last chapter of A Stone Boat Solomon confesses:

I forgive my mother as though I were spokesman for the very gates of heaven.

Solomon ignores that unilateral forgiveness is a psychological impossibility. The grace of forgiveness only reaches us when the offender recognises her fault. Neither in real life nor in the novel did his mother repent. And Solomon forfeited to confront her directly (the opposite of what another Jew, Kafka, did in Letter to His Father). Moreover, Solomon recounts that in the funeral he saw his mother ‘like an angel’ and, by seeing her in this way, he delivered himself into the open arms of the goddess of Melancholy.

The literary genre that I would like to inaugurate would not only oppose the biologicism that is breathed throughout The Noonday Demon, but the elegant prose of A Stone Boat: a poetic novel that has been described as a reach toward Proust. Vindictive autobiography doesn’t take care of the literary form at all: it’s a barbarous genre that breaks the millenarian taboo of honouring the parent. Without scruples, repressions and with the real names, vindictive autobiography throws in the parent’s face what s/he did to us. Conversely, The Noonday Demon is a book that approaches depression from every possible viewpoint, an atlas of the world of depression as the subtitle says. But what we need is more profundity, not amplitude. This is true not only of The Noonday Demon, but of many other quack books on the subject. The cause of the mental disorders with no known biological marker is in the psyche’s nucleus, not on a surface that a scholarly ‘atlas’ may explore.

In his autobiographical novel, my antipode Solomon wrote:

It was terrible how much I loved my mother. It was the most terrible thing in the world.

This was reinforced by the family dynamics:

My father expected everyone to understand at once that my mother was more important than everyone else [and Solomon] was as much in the habit of believing it as he was. [To the extent that Solomon] thought that if she died I would also have to die.

Solomon’s girlfriend told him: ‘Enough is enough; if you spend every minute with her, you’ll go crazy’. He further writes that ‘to be in the room’ with his mother ‘was like being splattered with blood’. He loved her despite that ‘in the first weeks of her illness, my mother was to reveal more clearly her terrible brutality: She could be harsh, and she was demanding, and she could be selfish’. The metaphor of a stone boat came from his girlfriend referring to Solomon’s idealisation of a perfect family: a myth that, according to her, would sink in the sea.

But she was wrong. Solomon didn’t sink the stony idea in a sea of truth. He continued to idealise his mom as it is surmised from the fact that, after he published A Stone Boat, Solomon embarked on a huge enterprise: the writing of a treatise to repress the aetiology of his depression even further, The Noonday Demon. In this later work, his magnum opus, Solomon tells us that the old Freudian precept of blaming the mother has been discarded.

Solomon is wrong in all counts. Blaming the mother is neither a Freudian principle (it’s Frieda Fromm-Reichmann’s), nor has it been discarded (cf. the work of Alice Miller), and Solomon himself has to get his ass even with his mother’s if he is to win the battle against depression. That’s Sue Forward’s advice, who recommends the depressed adult to read a vindictive letter to the late parent in front of the grave to achieve inner peace. As a researcher, I have been in anger therapies in the Ross Institute for Psychological Trauma in Dallas. The level of overt fury and hate toward the invoked perpetrators shocked me. The emotions I witnessed there were not creatures of the surface but the demons of the Old World that Solomon and his depressing fans don’t dare to invoke.
 

The daimon

Those who fall in depression are like extinct volcanoes that have long passed by the tectonic plates’ hot spot beneath them. Solomon has not done a good introspection: he’s an extinct volcano. Only thus can we understand when he writes that one of the most terrible aspects of depression, the anxiety and the panic attacks, is that volition is absent: that those sentiments simply ‘occur’. Obviously Solomon has no idea of the demonic magma that inhabits beneath him and that desperately needs a way out. The bestselling author on depression doesn’t know what depression is: psychic congestion or a cooled crag that, blocking the escape valve, impedes the deliverance of a monster. Had Solomon choose the genre of the eruptive epistle instead of the toned down novel or a scholarly treatise, he could have confronted the inner daimon that haunts him and vomit the hell out of it.

There’s a passage in The Noonday Demon that suggests this interpretation. Solomon writes that he once believed that his sexuality was responsible for the suffering of his mother: suffering she endured until she died. The mother hated Solomon’s homosexuality, and that hatred was a poison that started to impregnate Solomon’s mind. I’m not inventing this: I’m rephrasing what Solomon wrote from the translated copy of his Noonday that I have access to. Solomon even writes that he cannot separate his mother’s homophobia from his own homophobia to the point of exposing himself to the HIV virus. And he further confesses that this exposure was a way of converting an inner self-hatred into a physical reality. In A Stone Boat he writes that his mother told him: ‘No child was ever loved more than you’, and in the following pages he adds: ‘A minute later I thought of killing her’ to end the mother’s agony. Mom’s cruellest tirade had been telling him she would eat poisonous maggots and die, and that only then would Solomon regret having been a naughty child.

Solomon’s confessions can help us to understand his depression in a way that Solomon can’t. As he writes in The Noonday Demon, which unlike A Stone Boat is not a novel, his mother committed suicide to stop the pain of her ovary cancer. On June 19, 1991 in front of Solomon his beloved mother swallowed red pills of Seconal (secobarbital: a barbiturate). He and the rest of his family assisted the suicide. Solomon confesses us that his mother’s suicide was the cataclysm of his life; that it’s buried in his guts like a sharp knife—these are his own metaphors—and that it hurts every time he moves. In some of the most emotional passages Solomon tells us that his mother took pill after pill, the ‘poisonous maggots’ she had threatened would make him feel really bad. Solomon even writes that by imitating her he later learned to take handfuls of anti-depressants, ‘pill after pill’…

The psychic radiography of Solomon starts taking shape. However, like the proverbial prodigal son that represses in his mind the parent’s behaviour, Solomon tells us that it is nonsense that teenagers reproach their parents when they have done everything for them. His non-reproached resentment metamorphosed into acute melancholy: just what happened to the children whose shrinks eliminated their anger. But it is the prohibition of touching the mother what makes this Œdipus write that we should not deceive ourselves; that we don’t know the cause of depression and that we don’t know either how it came about in human evolution.

That, my dear readers, is biological psychiatry: the art of blaming the body for our cowardice to confront mom.

 
Œdipus’ struggles with the daimon

In his desperate attempts to escape the harassment of his inner daimon, Solomon found the exit door by a fluke. In The Noonday Demon he paraphrases the psychoanalysts who have written insightful passages about melancholy. For example, Solomon writes that, in order not to castigate the beloved person, the melancholic individual re-directs the anger and the ambivalence he feels for the loved one onto the patient himself. And following Sigmund Freud and his disciple Karl Abraham he self-analysed himself well enough when he wrote that during his first crisis, after his mother’s death, he incorporated her into his writing. Unfortunately, he also writes that he lamented the pain he caused to her, and this false sense of guilt persisted. He further writes that her death prevented that his relationship with his mother had a healthy closure. In A Stone Boat he had written: ‘Our flashes of intense hatred had never really undermined our adoration of each other’.

Solomon never crossed through the very door that he opened. In contrast to John Modrow, the valiant memorialist who published a touching autobiography about his maddening parents, Solomon’s struggles with the daimon of honouring the parent never ended. When he published A Stone Boat the daimon of guilt assaulted him once more. In The Noonday Demon he writes that when he published the novel it made him feel like a defiant son, and that the guilt feelings began to consume him. He even writes about an internalised love-object, his mother, and about internalised sadism: what Solomon did to himself. Solomon wasn’t only masochist to defend the idealised image of his mother (cf. what Ross says about ‘the locus of control shift’ in his book The Trauma Model). He broke pictures of himself hanging in his home, and he left the hammer in the middle of the broken crystals.

Once he even attacked viciously a friend to the point of breaking his jaw and nose. The man was hospitalised and in The Noonday Demon, where we wouldn’t expect fiction or literary embellishments as in the novel, Solomon confesses to us that he will never forget the relief he felt with each of his vicious punches. He found himself even strangling his friend and says that could have killed him. However, Solomon omits to say if he was arrested or if dad’s attorneys kept him out of jail. He does confess, however, that he hasn’t repented from what he did. He justifies his actions and he wrote that otherwise he would have become mad. And he adds that part of the sensation of fear and impotence he suffered in those times was alleviated by those savage acts. And still further he adds the illuminating confession that to deny the curative power of violence would be a terrible mistake, and that the night of the fighting he arrived at home covered with blood with a sensation of horror and euphoria at the same time.

Miraculously, that night he felt completely released from his daimon! But was the struggle with it over? Nope!: this acting out was nothing else than the displaced fury he felt toward his mother.

Alice Miller has taught us that displaced rage is infinite. It never ends. One is left to wonder what would the hospitalised friend say of Solomon’s fans, who have described him as ‘compassionate and humane’. On the next page of Solomon’s fight he gives us the key to enter his mind. Solomon wrote that he realised that depression could manifest itself in the form of rage.

This cracks the daimon’s cipher. Those who fall in depression and go to the shrink office to pop up a bottle and take a pill don’t know what’s happening in their heads! What these people actually feel is rage and fury toward the perps. But God forbid: we cannot touch them. Parents are to be honoured. A Miller reader would argue that only when our selves get integrated about how and when we were abused, we won’t displace our rage on innocent friends. Solomon also confesses to us that he displaced the anger he felt on his lover: ‘I hated Bernard and I hated my father. This made it easier to love my mother’. This is exactly what Silvano Arieti said in Interpretation of Schizophrenia about one of his patients who ‘protected the images of his parents but at the expense of having an unbearable self-image’. The dots start to be connected. Solomon imagined that he ‘would mutilate his [Bernard’s] cat’. But that was not enough:

I wrote him a letter carefully designed to make him fall in love with me, hopelessly in love, so that I could reject him brutally. I would castrate him with a straight razor. [And also fantasised] putting rat poison in his coffee, but I couldn’t remember why.

Of course he couldn’t: he was still displacing his anger onto a scapegoat (in The Noonday Demon he ratifies the actual existence of the person he called Bernard). Solomon was looking for a safer object to transfer his unconscious affects toward his mother, a mother about whom he wrote: ‘You don’t love me. You are obsessed with me, and you keep trying to drag me down into your illness’. Since displaced anger is infinite, in The Noonday Demon Solomon confesses that, in desperation, he went to Senegal looking for an exorcism. The persistent daimon had to be expelled at all costs, and he tried the ritual called ndeup. But witchcraft didn’t work. The powerful spell that his witch-mother had cast unto him wasn’t broken in black Africa.

After his Senegal experience Solomon continued to look for the cause of depression in psychiatry’s blame-the-body theories, and he also tried many pop remedies. It’s fascinating to see that quite a few of his quack remedies are identical to what Robert Burton prescribed in his famous 1621 treatise on melancholy. Both writers, the 17th-century Burton and the 21st century Solomon, recommend Saint-John’s-wort! And parallel to these Old Age and New Age quackery, Solomon writes a ‘scientific’ chapter on evolutionary biology to answer how could it be possible that natural selection allowed depression.

If we take into account that depression is a crack in our attachment systems due to unprocessed abuse, the above is a pretty stupid question. While I only have minor quibbles with Solomon’s stupidities, when he mentions involuntary psychiatry he sides the parents and the professionals against the patients. The pages that infuriated me the most are the ones in which Solomon sides the parents who label their sane children as mentally ill to control them through psychiatric drugs, especially at school.

It is understandable, therefore, that Solomon didn’t dedicate The Noonday Demon to the child victim of involuntary psychiatry, what I do with my texts. He dedicated it to his millionaire father who financed his investigation and whose income depends on the selling of those drugs for social control.

 

Recommended readings:

Criticism of language is the most radical of all criticisms. The following is the first book of my list because, if in our vocabulary we don’t root out the Newspeak of psychiatrists, psychoanalysts and clinical psychologists, it will be impossible to understand the family, social, economic and existential problems that we all have:

(1) Thomas Szasz: Anti-Freud: Karl Kraus’s Criticism of Psychoanalysis and Psychiatry (NY: Syracuse University Press, 1990).
 

On the importance of vindictive autobiography:

(2) John Modrow: How To Become A Schizophrenic: The Case Against Biological Psychiatry (New York: Writers Club Press, 2003).

(3) Susan Forward: Toxic Parents: Overcoming Their Hurtful Legacy and Reclaiming Your Life (2002 by Bantam, first published in 1989).
 

On psychoanalysis and all sorts of psychotherapies:

(4) Jeffrey Masson: Against Therapy: Emotional Tyranny and the Myth of Psychological Healing (Common Courage Press, 1988).

(5) —————–: Final analysis: The Making And Unmaking of a Psychoanalyst (London: HarperCollins, 1991).
 

On the pseudoscientific nature of biological psychiatry:

(6) Colin Ross and Alvin Pam (eds.): Pseudoscience in Biological Psychiatry: Blaming the Body (NY: Wiley & Sons, 1995).

(7) Elliot Valenstein: Blaming the Brain: The Truth About Drugs And Mental Health (NY: The Free Press, 1998).

(8) Peter Breggin: Toxic Psychiatry: Why Therapy, Empathy and Love Must Replace the Drugs, Electroshock, and Biochemical Theories of the “New Psychiatry” (NY: St. Martin’s Press, 1994).

(9) Robert Whitaker: Mad in America: Bad Science, Bad Medicine, and the Enduring Mistreatment of the Mentally Ill (Cambridge: Perseus, 2001).
 

Note of 2020:

Anyone who wants updated information can watch Robert Whitaker’s YouTube videos, which includes videos from this year (not to be confused with white nationalist Robert W. Whitaker who died in 2017).

My books on the subject appear on the sidebar: Letter to mom Medusa and Day of Wrath.

Colour, pranks and psychoclasses

Yesterday I discovered some YouTube videos that make us laugh out loud, especially those involving children. From a collection of pranks for example, the one that almost killed me of laughter was a ‘scary’ kid: here (see also this one of a girl apparently pregnant by her child husband!).

I compared the volume of visits from those dying LOL videos with this site, and concluded that I have been wrong about something fundamental.

If we think about the white advocates’ sites, Andrew Anglin’s has been the most popular: just the closest, within racialism, to those prank videos: some of which already have more than 100 million views.

What I have been wrong about is not realising that the psychoclass to which I belong is not only sidereally different from the psychoclass of those to whom I would like my message to reach. I come from a tragic family that destroyed three persons, of whom two died and I am the only survivor to tell their story (so I will be busy the rest of the month reviewing the syntax of my books). This experience has developed in me a gravitas character in the sense of serene sadness before life. Those who give literally hundreds of millions of clicks to those videos are not only different: they are my perfect antipodes. Not because laughing is wrong (laughing is very healthy even under the laws of Lycurgus): but because in dark times the most relevant is the gravitas of the ancient Romans.

My mistake has been treating people, even some visitors to this site, as if they are psychologically structured in a similar way to mine when, actually, their happy mode cannot contrast more with the hard Roman ethos. Perhaps the best way to understand it is through analogy.

A couple of days ago I discovered the videos of colour-blind people who see colours as they actually are for the first time in their lives, for example: this one. In this other one a dad sees the red hair of his children the first time.

It’s like an emotional atomic bomb to see colours as they are for the first time in life! See, for example, only the first case that starts here (moving tears of dad and little son) and this other of two colour-blind brothers. A third video of a boy crying when seeing the world in full colour can be seen: here.

This one, seeing the beautiful flowers as they are for the first time, is very revealing (although the interlocutor spoiled the satori of the initiate with cold questions). This man cried when he saw the colour orange for the first time and was amazed at the skin colour of his white mother. Others had not seen the purple (last example: here).

Exactly the same happens with existential pain. It produces abysmally different minds, let’s say, the life of someone who had a mother like the one of the film Joker compared to the happy mode in which a good portion of white Americans currently live. Like colour-blind people, there is no way to make anyone who has not gone through it big time to see the full range of the colours of existential suffering.

In other words, trying to sell the idea of ‘eliminating all unnecessary suffering’, my philosophy of the four words, is more than a hard sell: it is a fool’s errand if my audience is that of the common American. You have to wait for the catastrophes that people like Martenson have been predicting to converge.

Only after the United States is destroyed will white survivors begin to see the colours that, south of the Rio Grande, I have been seeing for the past few decades. (A subtitle for this article might say: The ancient Greeks knew tragedy, drama, and comedy; today’s colour-blind Americans only drama and comedy.)

Published in: on May 11, 2020 at 3:26 pm  Comments (16)  
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Slaves of parental introjects

Yesterday I wrote that many people who want to do something for the white race cannot do it because they continue to be slaves of their parental introjects. But not only yesterday. On this site I have used the term ‘parental introject’ many times. And on my stats page I’ve noticed that several visitors try to understand its meaning when I link the word to Wikipedia. But the best way to explain it is simply by anecdote.

Professor of psychology Nicholas Humphrey does not usually use the term introject. But by 1997, when I had already abandoned my belief in parapsychology, I was still reading on the sceptics of the paranormal. At Barnes & Noble in Houston I sat down to read some passages of Humphrey’s Leaps of Faith, and on page 147 I had a eureka moment. On that page we can read:

Imagine that in childhood, before you thought of questioning it, you were told as a fact that Jesus performed miracles and therefore was the son of God, and not till later in life did it occur to you that the miracles might not be genuine. By that time, you might well find that your critical faculties had already been hijacked. For how could you possibly entertain such doubts about the works of a man whose works had already proved he was never to be doubted! The importance of the first step taken in childhood was not lost on the Jesuits: ‘If I have the teaching of children up to seven years of age or thereabouts, I care not who has them afterwards, they are mine for life.’

Above, Humphrey as a boy. It was after that passage, on that same page, that the author added a phrase that caused my eureka moment. Keep in mind that his book is a critique of parapsychology. Humphrey said that even when an alleged psychic is shown to resort to fraud, because of the image implanted on us about Jesus, the damage had been done in the believer’s mind.

When I read those words my mind immediately flew to the introject that my father had put in me as a child about Jesus’ miracles, an introject secularised by parapsychologists with their beliefs in extrasensory perception and psychokinesis among humans. So to understand the word introject, we just have to think about Humphrey’s quote from the Jesuits above, ‘If I have the teaching of children up to seven years of age or thereabouts, I care not who has them afterwards, they are mine for life’.

That’s it! Once you have a specific malware programmed in your soul at a tender age it is incredibly difficult to remove it.

Leaps of Faith can be read online, but I suggest obtaining a copy because it is one of those books that should be in our bookshelves. It explains why so many people still cling, like children seeking reassurance, to belief in supernatural phenomena like an immortal soul and life after death. It is also a devastating critique of the existing evidence for paranormal phenomena, ranging from miracles to the laboratory experiments for extrasensory perception.

No matter what the evidence, those who have not fulfilled Delphi’s commandment will continue to believe that ‘there must be something there’. They’re slaves of parental introjects.

Published in: on April 1, 2020 at 11:11 am  Comments (4)  

From Jesus to Hitler

Explanatory note to the eleven books

– the first one will be available this month –

From Jesus to Hitler consists of two thick volumes, each one containing five ‘books’, and a corollary. As can be seen from the above-linked page, Letter to mom Medusa is the first book of the five-book Whispering Leaves. It is an amateur Spanish-English translation of the first of my eleven autobiographical books. Whispering Leaves as a whole offers a comprehensive view of the most serious cases of abuse of parents with their children, and the consequences in the adult life of the latter. But before addressing it, I must clarify an issue.

In 2008 I finished the fifth of my books that make up the Whispering Leaves series (original title in Spanish: Hojas Susurrantes). Since then I learned of an alarming reality that changed the way I saw the world. The social reality that caused my awakening to a subject outside these Leaves, the possible extinction of the white race, was such that I had to rewrite many passages of the first versions of the manuscript. That means that the seven impressions with the title of Hojas Susurrantes that I bound to distribute to friends before 2011 reflect ideas that I not only consider, now, outdated, but deeply wrong. And ever since 2012, I have been modifying the text of the first editions that the Lulu company has been printing.

This last revolution moves me to clarify other of my transformations. For example, at the end of the first book of my Leaves, the Letter to mom Medusa, I added the following retrospective note:

I wrote the original version of the epistle in 1988, when I was not yet using a computer. Currently I do not think that a ‘great affection’ or ‘great love’ of a ‘supermother’ caused the fateful metamorphosis of which I wrote: ‘I loved you but my love was not even remotely of your calibre’. It was also inaccurate that my mother’s ‘disenchantment’ when she saw that I was not an ‘Oedipus’ perverted her feelings. And it was also inaccurate that from love to hate there is only one step when I spoke about the ‘love-hate syndrome’. Although I modified the letter for publication, I didn’t censor those passages because they show how I thought in my late twenties, when I wrote the original epistle. In this first book of Whispering Leaves it seemed pertinent to preserve my youthful vision of those times. Now I see things from another perspective.

The previous perspective was due to the fact that, when I wrote the Letter, I had not discovered the Swiss psychologist Alice Miller. Similarly, when in my twenties and thirties I began studying the critics of psychiatry, and even when at the beginning of my forties I sat down to collect such criticisms in How to Murder Your Child’s Soul, I had not made deep contact with the badly wounded lad that I had inside. These were times when I subscribed to feminism and the so-called sexual liberation, before transvaluing my values. And although well into my forties I had made such contact by writing the second part of My Childhood, at that time I was unaware of Lloyd deMause’s work. Later, when I wrote The Return of Quetzalcoatl, I had already read deMause but was unaware of a body of research on IQ differences between various ethnic groups (for example, between Mesoamericans and Spaniards). And when by the end of my forties I collected several of my old documents to form my fifth and final book that gave the title to my Leaves I knew nothing about the tsunami of non-white immigrants to the West.

This happens when the first page of a work that the author wants between two covers he starts at twenty-nine and this explanatory note is added at sixty-one. It is true that, of all these incredible stages, Alice Miller was the most decisive influence on this first volume of my autobiography.[1] But after my transformation in racial issues I left even Miller behind. Miller’s forte was deep psychology, not the understanding of the West. Clarified this, and unlike what I said in the quotation above in indentation, I would not like to eliminate other passages of Leaves altogether, as that would mean rewriting it.

Let us mention the most dramatic example of my internal change. Thanks to the computer processors I did a quick search of the words ‘Hitler’ and ‘Holocaust’ of the old manuscript. I was surprised at how many times I wrote them. In fact, after my awakening I deleted entire chapters of the now obsolete version of Leaves. Although I did not censor one hundred percent of those passages, I did review and edit them copiously. It seems pertinent to keep, as I did in the Letter, a little taste of my previous vision of reality. Thus, although in the revised edition I removed all criticism of Hitler and National Socialism, I left as a paradigm the cases of the Jewish young men David Helfgott and Yakoff Skurnik; the latter, a holocaust survivor. Like the rest of the five books in my Leaves, I wrote those passages before I woke up to the question of Aryan ethnocide through non-white immigration.

Waking up to this issue split my intellectual life in two. If I now began to write Leaves, instead of using the holocaust as a paradigm I would use the Holodomor: the famine induced in Ukraine in which the Bolshevik Jews were not the victims, but the perpetrators. This was a genocide greater than that attributed to the Nazis: one of the historical facts that the media system hides from us. The same can be said of the Holocaust perpetrated against the Germans even after they had surrendered, from 1945 to 1947. This Holocaust is the greatest secret of the anti-white system of our day, so well denounced in Hellstorm: The Death of Nazi Germany, the book by American Thomas Goodrich, with whom I have maintained some correspondence. What we are told in the academy, the media and the laws (in several European countries it is considered a crime to hold an opinion different from the official narrative about the Second World War) is an exact reversal of the facts. Likewise, the narrative about the adolescent I was, disseminated by my mother among those nearby, was an exact inversion of the facts. There is an unheard-of parallel between my biography and history: between how I was defamed and destroyed as a teenager, and how adolescent Germany was defamed and destroyed, too, in the fateful 20th century. In a sense, reclaiming my image in the face of a massive slander that affected the core of my being, and vindicating Germany, are two sides of the same coin.

I was born a Christian and, although most of my life I believed that Jesus of Nazareth had existed, the details of my internal changes that became my current position are explained in my eleven books. Furthermore, anyone who wishes to know my point of view about the catastrophe that looms on the horizon for the white man would do well to read a book by several authors, including some short essays of mine, which I have compiled in English: The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour. The subject-matter is so pressing that I uploaded The Fair Race’s PDF to this site so that he who cannot buy it may print it at home. For now, suffice it to say that Alice Miller continued to mention Hitler under the influence of the official narrative in almost all of her texts, so I currently do not recommend any of her books. It is not that I have repudiated Miller’s findings: a Jewess who, although she suffered as a child in the Warsaw Ghetto, after changing her Jewish surname she never wanted to return to the shelter of her mother’s religion. But I must say that Miller’s psycho-biographical analysis of Hitler is based on the great lie of our times. The Swiss psychologist never considered such elemental issues as the fact that the Holocaust of millions of Ukrainians, largely perpetrated by Bolshevik Jews, caused the legitimate fear, and eventual reaction, of the German state.

But that is a separate matter. The issue that concerns us in Whispering Leaves is very different: the Dantesque hell that some parents put their children in: something that Miller got right.

__________

[1] Again, I refer to Leaves. In Spanish, the eleven books were not published in isolation, as shown in the linked page on the hatnote. There are only two volumes plus a corollary.

The wall

With the average white nationalist, I have run into a wall on issues such as Pierce and Kemp’s stories of the white race (the basis for understanding everything), why many anti-Semites continue to worship the god of the Jews, conspiracy theories like JFK and 911, or scepticism about a currency crisis due to the Fed panicking through QE4 (a process that apparently has started these pandemic days). The cause of the mental wall is succinctly explained by the American philosopher Peter Boghossian:

People do not formulate their beliefs on the basis of evidence. They think they do, but instead, they cherry pick pieces of information or pieces of data to support the beliefs they already have.

The key thing to understand is that people formulate their beliefs because of some moral impulse, derived from a community to which they belong. They have a strong moral sense of why they ought to believe something.

Arguing with evidence doesn’t work. That triggers something called the backfire effect—it’s well established in the literature—where people just hunker down or double down in their beliefs.

So instead of providing evidence, there are other ways that we have to shift those conversations.

The way to reach people about these issues is through values and not evidence. You have to figure out what somebody values and why they value it. In fancy terms, that’s called moral epistemology.

Once you figure out someone’s moral epistemology, that’s like the lock. And the templates that we use in the book [How to Have Impossible Conversations] are like keys to unlock that lock. Epistemology is just a two dollar word for ‘how you know what you think you know’. And morality is just a word meaning ‘what ought I to do’.

People don’t really think very much about how they come to their moral beliefs. It’s remarkably interesting how brittle those moral epistemologies are. With a few targeted questions, people can become more reflective about that.

Fortunately, there are a few nationalists who live on the other side of the wall.

Published in: on March 13, 2020 at 12:01 am  Comments (5)  

Psychoclasses: a vital concept

The video that I embedded in the comments section of my previous post made me think of something.

What happens in China (e.g., a toddler on the road is not rescued by any Chinese who casually passes by, and is finally run over, etc., etc.) is not ‘the battle of morality between different cultures’ as this other vlogger says about China. If it were a moral battle, there would be a substantial proportion of Chinese with greater empathy not only towards other Chinese, but towards animals. In this video there is apparently an image of a Chinese woman boiling a turtle alive in the kitchen of the mentioned vlogger. I didn’t want to see the image again because those atrocities with animals hurt me. The Chinese, on the other hand, a race inferior to ours, have not developed due empathy.

Speaking of the sacrifice of children in the ancient world on Day of Wrath, we have called psychogenesis the historical process of the development of empathy. In that book I explained what a lower psychoclass is and used, as a paradigm, the infanticidal psychoclass of Mesoamerica (Amerindians) before the coming of the Spaniards.

Psychogenesis or development of empathy, and different psychoclasses such as Amerindian and Spanish in the 16th century, are concepts that the common man ignores. Confused by Marxism and attempts to explain everything from economics and the hard sciences, Westerners have yet to realise that there are different psychoclasses of humans on earth. Even today, the burying of living small children is still practiced in certain tribes of the Amazon: an even more primitive psychoclass than that of the Chinese.

The 2020 edition of Day of Wrath is almost identical to that of the last year, except that I added my brief entry of this month’s 18th, ‘Possessed whites’, as a kind of corollary of what I say in ‘Dies Irae’. It is not only available in hard copy (here), from now on there is a PDF (here).

Published in: on January 29, 2020 at 7:01 pm  Comments (8)  

The Aryan race is sick

Hi Cesar,

This is a piece of writing I thought I’d share with you. You can use it on your website if you’d like or if you don’t wish to do so it can just be for your own viewing pleasure.

The Aryan race is sick. Sick from rejecting the Aryan Saviour Adolf Hitler who tried to save all Aryans (one now wonders why he bothered to save such a thankless people).

Spiritually sick from the spiritual death of 1945, the almost complete triumph of Christianity over the Aryan soul. Morally sick from the Christian ethics which preach tolerance and acceptance of all that is weak and degenerate, a pacifist and submissive cowardice in the face of one’s enemies and hatred of all that is superior and noble. Mentally sick from having been defeated by the Jews psychologically. Aryans have been convinced to destroy themselves and when your enemy is internal i.e. yourself, you are your own worst enemy and can defeat yourself more effectively than any external enemy can. The Aryan race wasn’t defeated militarily. It was defeated in its own mind thus rendering its weapons and militaries useless. Our enemies didn’t need to invade our lands, they were allowed in.

Physically sick, witness the obesity, the tattoos, the drug and pornography addictions, etc.

Culturally sick as evidenced by the degenerate art, architecture and music, etc., products of the influence of alien (Jewish, Negro) culture over the High Culture of the Aryan.

Self-destructing on the collective (racial) level, the familial level and finally the individual level.

Our race’s weaknesses we’ve always had to fight in one way or another and will always have to fight. It is our own weakness and sickness that gave the Jews spiritual, mental, and economic domination over our people in the first place. Jewish power in the West is a symptom of this illness and not the cause, as so many mistakenly believe [emphasis by Ed.]. The Aryan Problem caused the Jewish Problem. It is wise to understand The Final Solution to the Aryan Problem before one can enact The Final Solution to the Jewish Problem.

The Swiss psychologist Carl Jung analyzed National Socialist Germany as the awakening of the Wotan archetype in the Germanic soul. Hitler acted as an Avatar of the Germanic tribal god Wotan and awoke a collective ‘Wotan consciousness’ in the collective unconscious of the Germans that could rival the Yahweh consciousness in the collective unconscious of the Jews, manifesting itself as an ethnocentrism that was capable of matching the intense ethnocentrism of the Jews. When Germany lost WWII Jung went to work for the Allies and wrote about how the collective unconscious of the Germans felt a collective guilt for having expressed their anti-Christian pagan shadow Self, Wotan, and having thrown off the Christian veneer.

The blond beast, the Germanic barbarian had been once again wounded and conquered with guilt like when he was first forced to become a worshiper of the sickly Jesus at the hands of Charlemagne, but this time worse and more fatally than before. This guilt, this apologetic remorse for being ourselves (for nothing is more White than Nazi Germany, because Adolf Hitler, the soul and creator, the artist of National Socialist Germany, was the embodiment of the White Man), the core of the guilt and remorse being in Germany, is manifesting as a psychotic death wish that has devoured the whole collective unconscious of the Aryan race and is making the Aryan sick, indeed terminally ill.

When the majority of the Aryan race murdered their saviour Adolf Hitler on 30/04/1945 (or rather, forced Adolf Hitler to commit suicide) they may as well have murdered their own soul.

Yes, the Aryan race is sick. And sick to the death.

If Aryan males don’t learn to murder the Big Jew Jesus in their own minds and embrace the manly and heroic spirit of Adolf Hitler they should and will die a genocidal death at the hands of their enemies.

The amount of time, energy, money and sacrifice that has been expended by racists since 1945 trying to save a people, the overwhelming majority of which can’t be bothered to save themselves and indeed don’t want to be saved (because they have a collective death wish), is unreal.

The ‘movement’ has more than made its sacrifice on behalf of the Aryan race. No matter the courage of numerous ‘lone wolves’, effective action is only possible via military action. Effective action on the part of the white race is impossible if the vast majority of white males are and remain too cowardly and timid to act. If the threat of imminent extinction doesn’t cause the majority of white males to kill their enemies with weapons in hand then nothing will. Because effective action is impossible at present we are stuck just waiting and waiting… we are stuck with inaction and we wait and wait and wait while we cannot but watch in powerless horror as things continue to get worse and worse.

Despite my disagreements with you and criticisms with you Cesar, I still wish you the best.

T[…]

______ 卐 ______

 

Editor’s reply: Not long ago I asked Jez Turner—you were listening—something like: ‘Why don’t the Brits amalgamate their minds with The Turner Diaries?’ He completely misunderstood my question and replied that it was because the novel was not being sold at the UK’s bookstores.

I should have rephrased the question thus: ‘Why don’t the Brits are already fantasising with the “rivers of blood” scenario predicted by Enoch Powell?’ In other words, ‘Why am I so able to hate and you don’t?’

Problem is, that was ultimately a subjective question (comparing my essentialy normal mind with the mind of deranged ‘normies’). It’s like George Wells asking the Eloi: Why aren’t you capable to hate the Morlocks (you simply behave like lambs at the slaughterhouse when they’re hungry)?

Present-day whites are, literally, the Eloi. They won’t fight or do anything, white nationalists included, until the first of the three catastrophes occurs (currency crash, energy devolution, and finally the use of weapons of mass destruction during the international peak-oil crises: nations desperately trying to obtain the remaining oil through war, etc.).

Britain is gone!

Probably you have already watched Jared Taylor’s latest video…

Most horrifying is that not even after the recent murder of his own son by the Muslim terrorist the English father questioned his neo-Franciscan ideology about those who are raping English girls and killing English boys.

Postscript of 11:00 am. I am cutting and pasting my response to one of the comments below:

This situation is horrifying indeed, something is biologically wrong with the brains of White leftists.

I would blame the ‘software’ rather than the ‘hardware’, although if I remember correctly Richard Dawkins once said that memes could be as biological as genes.

Since I lived with my two grandmas in the 1970s and 80s, I have told myself many times that when they were young the meme ‘racist’ didn’t exist, as it was coined in the 1920s. That’s why my grandmas never used the word—never—, as their minds were wired up before the 20s.

Later generations are doomed. We live in a meme society where, for most folks, it’s impossible to see that they’re trapped in a matrix of memes, of which ‘racist’ is the central one that, like a virus of the mind, is destroying the white race.

It would be possible to try to transvalue the value, claiming that ‘racism’ is a badge of honour and invoke NS Germany. But that would mean rejecting Christian ethics and the ethics of Christianity’s bastard son, the secular liberalism imposed throughout the West after the French Revolution, something that most whites are unprepared to do.

In my opinion, only the facts presented in sites like The West’s Darkest Hour could potentially disabuse whites from their ethno-suicidal memes: the real history of Christianity and the real history of WW2 (which is why I’ve chosen Bran under the Heart Tree as the symbol of this site). But reading real history is something that the overwhelming majority of white nationalists are uninterested. Not even Kevin MacDonald or Greg Johnson are interested, in spite of the fact that both have published book reviews of Hellstorm some years ago. Jews would be hammering on such lachrymose story day and night, but most white advocates don’t even want to ponder about a brief summary of the book Demolish Them by Vlassis Rassias.

Even in today’s article, Hunter Wallace claims that his religion is compatible with racialism. Like other white advocates, he continues to fail to address what we can read in Rassias’ book: that, while destroying the statues, temples and burning the libraries, these Semitic or philo-Semitic terminators used the word ‘gentiles’ to refer to the advocates of Greco-Roman civilisation.

Response to Molyneux

In my recent article ‘Joker, Molyneux and CC’ I explained my agreements with Stefan Molyneux regarding the issue of child and adolescent abuse by their parents. Now I would like to explain my differences.

In his video today, Molyneux clarifies some doubts that were raised in the comments section of his previous video about Joker. The core of his most recent video is in the last minutes. Molyneux says something we agree on: that once the adult Arthur Fleck (the future Joker) becomes aware of what his mother did to him as a kid, he has two options: a positive spin to the revelation or a negative one. But Arthur Fleck’s story is fictitious and I prefer to illustrate Molyneux’s ideas with real-life cases.

In the discussion thread of my article on Joker I linked to another Molyneux video: an extensive video when Charles Manson died. I agree with what Molyneux said in that video, in which he educates us about the ordeal that Charlie suffered as a child with a mother who even sold him when he was very young. An uncle rescued him, but a few years later the mother got rid of Charlie again because her alcoholic lover did not tolerate his presence. In children’s hospices where Charlie lived he only suffered further physical abuse and even rapes.

Molyneux is right that the adult Manson chose evil. If I was treated like this as a child, Molyneux interprets the mind of the Joker (or Manson) now I return the favour, evil by evil. But Molyneux errs in his video today, that humanity in general is good. This is a universal mistake that even white nationalists share, who have only seen the evil of the Jews as if the rest of humanity were innocent.

Let’s go back to the movie Joker. There are some shots in which Gotham City (image above) is seen from afar with hundreds of heartless buildings around it. And in the shots already at the centre of the great metropolis, which in real life were taken in New Jersey, you can see what William Pierce said about ‘economic man’ (Mammon worship) in my Monday post.

An Homo economicus that tolerates dozens of Gotham cities around the world is not good humanity. They are, as I call them in my autobiographical writings, exterminable Neanderthals. Neanderthals in the sense of simia dei, the ape of God: a primitive version of Homo sapiens that should be replaced by a more evolved version. I am referring to a version of humans that, instead of the world of Saruman that destroyed entire forests to create Gotham cities, will return us to the Shire, so to speak. In addition to Homo economicus whose visible manifestation are the Gotham cities, that today’s man is a depraved creature is easy to prove by simply visiting the slaughterhouses where cows are killed.

All this is explained in my book Day of Wrath, which is in fact a chapter selection of my books in Spanish where I delve into the subject from the point of view of an Arthur Fleck, so to speak. In the aseptic selection that is Day of Wrath, the autobiographical confessions of this ‘Fleck’ are missing, confessions that do appear in the untranslated books. (I have been falling behind in the promised translation because I must work to put some bread on my table.)

Molyneux is able to hold a less obscure vision of the human race than mine because of the simple fact that the interaction with his Jewish mother was not as destructive as those children who were assaulted at home by both parents, to the point of an internal psychic breakdown. The key to the whole thing is not only that some parents in particular behave so cruelly with one of their children, but that society turns a deaf ear towards his screams…

In my previous post I cited the words of an Armenian from the Spotlight movie, in which he told a reporter that all of Boston— not just the paedophile priests—were involved in the destruction of a child, as the police, the lawyers, the faithful of the church and the family itself covered up the perpetrators. This is the key to understanding my difference with Molyneux. There are certain types of abuse that are infinitely more serious than what paedophile priests do to children. In my previous post I quoted a few words of The Dark Knight’s Joker who confessed that his father had slit his cheeks with a knife, and that is why he had a permanent smile. That Joker’s origin is fiction, of course. But if any of my visitors reads Day of Wrath, he would find out that there have been literally millions of parents who did similar things with their children throughout history and prehistory!

I am not asking you to buy my book, as it can be read for free on this site. (Although it is somewhat uncomfortable as the book is divided into 22 entries and the final chapters appear on this site first.)

Incidentally, I will take a couple of days off before resuming my activities here, although I’ll try to answer the comments of the recently posted articles.

Published in: on October 9, 2019 at 9:30 pm  Comments (6)  

Ron Unz and JFK

or

Leaving the courtroom

My comment in the previous post, about Ron Unz’s credulity about conspiracy theories (CTs) of the assassination of John F. Kennedy has made me think, once again, about what we might call the pathology of extraordinary beliefs. As the sceptics of CTs have said, which not only includes JFK but also 9/11, this is a topic that, like religion and politics, should not be touched in after-dinner conversations. People feel very hurt and it is impossible to argue on good terms.

Let’s use the analogy of the lawyer and the prosecutor who bring the experts to court to try to convince the jury; say, the mock trial of Lee Harvey Oswald staged by British television between Gerry Spence and Vincent Bugliosi. A good litmus test to know who has a closed mind is simply to point out who, when watching the TV show at home, leaves the room when the speaker is either Spence or Bugliosi.

The fact is that it is those who believe in the CT who usually leave the room, so to speak, in the sense that they never read sceptical books. Their attitude is as surreal as Alice’s Queen of Hearts in Wonderland: first comes to the sentence and then the trial. First we ‘know’ that 9/11 was an inside job, or, in the case of JFK, we ‘know’ that Oswald didn’t act alone. The long trial process that culminates in the sentence is of no importance or consequence for those who ‘know’ the truth.

Ron Unz is reputed to be a voracious devourer of books and articles. But when the issue of the trial between Spence and Bugliosi arrives, he leaves the courtroom every time the prosecutor speaks. Last year, in this discussion thread of his webzine, Unz said he had not read the thick Bugliosi treatise. When a supporter of Bugliosi pointed out that there was a much shorter book of another ‘prosecutor’ (pic above), a book that with the amazing capacity that Unz has could read it in one day, Unz did not respond.

That is the all too common attitude among those who believe in CTs. True Believers can read a dozen books promoting the conspiracy but not a single article from the other side (listen how Bugliosi explains this bizarre behaviour: here)! That is why they ignore the most basic arguments of the prosecutor. For example, in the most recent discussion thread about the 9/11 attacks, some visitors got mad at me but none advanced an argument about a video I linked about Building 7 (for the believers in the 9/11 CTs, Building 7 is considered one of their strongest arguments of what they call ‘controlled demolition’).

It is relatively easy to find out who’s the one who leaves the courthouse every time the opposing lawyer speaks. They are those who believe not only in the CT about JFK or 9/11, but in the so-called Fake Moon Landing, Satanic Ritual Abuse, or the existence of UFOs in Hangar 14 of the US government.

Let’s illustrate this with my case. I used to believe in the pseudoscience of parapsychology. I spent many years of my life wanting to prove the existence of ‘psi’ (extrasensory perception and psychokinesis). I didn’t read the sceptics of the paranormal because they were ‘the bad guys in the movie’.

When I finally spoke with them, at a November 1989 conference they invited me to, I was surprised that those I considered closed were, in fact, quite open people. They even subscribed to the main journals of parapsychology. That happened also with UFO sceptics. They were avid readers of their opponents’ literature: those who promote the hypothesis that UFOs are manned extraterrestrial ships. It is the believers of the extraterrestrial hypothesis who never read the literature of the sceptics.

Before, I only read literature from parapsychologists. But after meeting the ‘prosecutors’ in the early 1990s I became familiar, little by little, with their literature. A few years after subscribing to the Skeptical Inquirer there came a time when I felt agnostic (just as there are people who are no longer a hundred percent sure that God exists). Concurrently I realised that my parapsychological colleagues did not read sceptical literature, nor did they respond to the main arguments of the sceptics (Occam’s razor, the falsifiability principle, etc.).

Only until May 1995, thinking outside a subway station, there was a time when I seriously doubted, for the first time in life, the existence of psi (something similar to a priest doubting for the first time in his life of the existence of God). However, it would take me a few more years to understand why had I got caught in such a self-sealing belief system in the first place: an issue I address in my autobiographical books (see sidebar at the bottom of this page).

I mention this just so that it is understood that there are times that we are so absolutely convinced that pseudoscience is real science that we do not realise that it is a cathedral built on clay bases.

When I lived in Marin County I once had the opportunity to realise that the foundations of the ‘science’ I was studying were shaky. In a bookstore I saw that they sold A Skeptic’s Handbook of Parapsychology. Thirty-four years have passed since that night and I still remember the image of James Randi on the dustcover. But I thought I couldn’t afford it. If I had listened to the prosecutor, a dozen (lost) years of my life would have been spared! But I didn’t listen to him and embarked on a quixotic project of wanting to develop psi.

You can’t learn from another’s mistakes. I know that what I say here won’t make any dent whatsoever in the True Believers’ worldview who, like Unz, flee from the courtroom every time Bugliosi speaks. They do this to avoid the most elemental cognitive dissonance, as I did when I was trapped in my self-sealing system. But if I could travel to the past and see Cesar in that California bookstore in 1985, I would tell him, I would beg him, to buy the book he had in his young hands…