menticide (n): the systematic effort to undermine and destroy a person’s values and beliefs, as by the use of prolonged interrogation, drugs, torture, etc., and to induce radically different ideas.
Yesterday I wandered in the weeds. I added a spare paragraph to a perfectly adequate post. I don’t know why I added it. We already know it’s true. Why bother to state the obvious?
…Unless you’re Amish, you don’t have a society free of propaganda in which to take refuge. You’ll be surrounded by people in the thrall of electronic “media” and they’re hooked deeply. They’re junkies. They can’t quit.
The addiction merits attention. It must be addressed. It cannot be endured or ignored. Because our world is awash in propaganda, we need to attend to our mental health. It’s vital we withdraw from the avalanche of lies to the extent we can; at a minimum one must periodically come up for air and become reacquainted with reality. Few know such an option exists. Even fewer try it. Compared to just a few years ago, possibly even compared to Soviet Russia, propaganda has reached vast proportions.
Z-Man fleshed out the concept better than I have:
Whether by design or by accident, mass media is a form of menticide, a systematic destruction of the conscious mind of the people. Instead of the quiet predictability of familiar routines, the modern mind is a riot of chaos, doubt, and outrage. The natural human desire to live a peaceful life is drowned out by a riot in the head, triggered by the constant stream of insanity from the mass media.
Menticide. Precisely.
One thing menticide robs from us is connection. I’m as much a loner as anyone and yet even I seek connection with my fellow human. This is almost impossible now. Two people cannot connect unless both are free of the spell.
When you talk to a person steeped in mass media you are not connecting with that person at all. Whatever unique personality might have been there is submerged. Layers of training defend it against true interaction. If they’re a lefty, they’ll quote from the many media sources that instruct them on what to say. If they’re the opposite, they’ll still tell you a narrative. It’ll be what they heard on Gab or a meme they liked or some scrap from whatever slivers of media the censored Deplorables can unearth.
When I try to mention some thought I had that doesn’t come from “approved sources”, it’s literally unintelligible. Perhaps an idea is digested from my imperfect reading of history, or arrived at from personal experience, or even through some revelatory thought while hunting grouse. If it didn’t originate on a screen, it goes nowhere. My idea might be dumb or wise, but it’s not evaluated. Because it’s unique, it won’t be considered. It can’t be considered. The programmed follow a pattern. An idea that breaks the pattern doesn’t exist.
When a nerd like me says “you know, Marcus Aurelius had some ideas about…” or “when I was hunting I thought…” or “this one time in band camp I did this thing…” it’s doomed. Ideas from the media are evaluated in light of the media by avatars of the media. I might as well talk to my woodsplitter.
Most concepts cannot be communicated in any depth greater than Crimethink.
What to do? Z-Man offers the same prescription I offer:
…those who seek to survive it will need to find a way to silence the riot of the modern mind. Ironically, that means going back to where it started and taking a page from the cultural radicals. To quiet the mind, to break free of the narcotic of media menticide, it means you must turn off, tune out, and drop out.
This doesn’t mean you’ve got to go Amish and spend your days plowing potato hills behind a Percheron. But it does acknowledge that’s one way to go. The Amish, who live in close proximity to madness, have not themselves gone mad. (If they’d open a sanatorium for us overwrought English I’d gladly pay.)
A personal note: My temporary salve in 2021 was camping (sometimes with my little motorcycle parked next to my tent and sometimes with a homemade sailboat beached nearby). It was good clean fun. I basked in the timeless simple joy of it all.
I hadn’t realized it, but I’ve become dependent. As 2020 (now entering it’s 23rd month) lumbered forward, each new week brings more manufactured chaos into my world. My banked and stored “chill” is dangerously depleted. In a world gone mad, I crave nights lying in a sleeping bag, listening to owls and voices on the wind, with a thirst bordering on desperation.
I shouldn’t have painted myself into a corner. It’s better to have many outlets instead of one. But it happened and the next step is up to me. Logistics is now an enemy. Winter is nigh and camping in winter is less fun than it once was. (I used to love winter camping. I would love to do it again. However, sleeping on the ground in a snowdrift is from a time I have passed. Age is not a curse, but it will not be denied.)
I was idly pondering the acquisition of a hot tent. I hadn’t made the buy. I failed to act with proper dispatch. While I considered an expensive “luxury”, President Potato yanked the rug out from under me. He decided to actively undercut my income; because of course no life is too remote or unimportant to evade the Governmental edict. The Eye of Sauron sees all and have opinions on everything. Captain Droolcup has put my job on the chopping block of his Utopian world of mandatory medicine. He may succeed or he may not. I’m too chicken to risk unnecessary expense until I know.
The snow is not deep. I think I’ll try a week of day hikes and low key hunting. I may lack a suitable tent but I have boots. We’ll see if that calms the soul.
In the meantime, take care of yourself. Keep the media at bay. Do it for your own health. Don’t give up. 2020 isn’t done with us but there’s hope. Recreational panic is wearing thin in the zeitgeist. In the long run, we may emerge sane.
Good post, AC. I’ve been laying off the z-man lately, trying to find my own way. Too much truth can run a man down, I’m seeking peace in the world outside right now. Digging in the dirt, taking happy moments where I can find them. All while knowing the lock and load isn’t far away. Store up your strength. You will need it
I agree that Z man can be a bit of a downer but he’s a good thinker. Digging in the dirt is a great phrase. Is that what I was doing running my motorcycle all over the forest? It was better therapy than anything online.
Long time lurker, first time commenter. As an alternative to all the mass media crap would you maybe do an AC Book of the Month post? Like a certain talk show host but with better picks. Classical lit that you’ve been inspired by or whatever strikes your fancy. I’m an avid reader always looking for recommendations.
I like the idea. I’ve assumed we are in a post-literate society but maybe not for readers of this blog. It’s hard to gauge interest. I tell ya’ what, if I get a couple more comments in support of the idea I’ll go with it.
take a look at the Silicon Greybeards blog (http://thesilicongraybeard.blogspot.com) – he has a column at the RHS of the page where he lists books (“Stuff I’ve been reading”) as an alternative to composing a review/recommendation posting.
It will give readers an insight into your interests without having to either explain or justify yourself. Me? I’m weird and have such an eclectic reading interest that I hesitate to list them …
That seems like a low stress approach. I’m not likely to install the code he’s using but I can try a codeless variant of the idea. Some books I’ll just say “I like this but don’t recommend it for normal humans”. That covers any concern about eclectic tastes.
When you talk to a person steeped in mass media you are not connecting with that person at all.
You know, I’m not even remotely a social creature: But maybe that’s what’s off about trying to interact with people online. You try to converse, and words are exchanged, but conversation isn’t really happening. And then there’s the asynchronous aspect of it – they could reply in 10 minutes, next week, or just disappear off the face of the earth. Don’t know, can’t know.
Talking to people on Discord is a little better: At least then three is something closer to talking going on. Any anonymous comment section? Forget about it.
Seldom have anything of serious substance to say, but I’ve noticed the “Darmok-and-Jilad” sort of reference-speak too.
Asynchronous communication among thoughtful people is just fine. It’s not ideal but it’s merely a minor stumbling block. It’s not the timing that matters so much as the ability to formulate an idea, listen, and hear; ultimately these reflect the ability to think.
I like the Darmok and Jilad reference. Here’s a link for those who have no idea what it means: https://youtu.be/3-wzr74d7TI
Motorcycle Therapy is not at all understood by those who do not do it.
I learned decades ago that dirt is something one washes off motorcycles, not something one rides them in (and, yes, I did suck at motocross….but discovered road racing in 500cc Production as a throughly acceptable competitive substitute). That said, they are extremely useful tools for accessing remote, some severely remote, areas much faster than the Ankle Express; some places are simply Too Far Out to walk to on a suburbanite’s schedule.
But….Pavement is King. For many years I kept a big boxer BMW fully loaded and gassed (9 gallon Krauser tank because “range counts,” thank you very much) in the garage, twice taking it solo from a coastal Atlantic state to the farthest Pacific one on a mere whim, and commuted 800 miles each way to a, well, let’s say “close friend,” on random weekends.
As I’ve aged the 1600 mile weekends are a distant memory, shrunken to a couple 200+ mile days and swapping out a hotel room for the tent. No less fun, that, just a less intense version of it and air conditioning, showers, hot tubs, and ice in one’s single malt each have a value all their own.
People are great, but it’s easy to overdose on them, or have the overdosing forced, and periods of independent, extended solitude is the only workable treatment. Those suffering from Chronic People Addiction are completely unaware of how theraputic beneficial isolation can be, in whatever form it may be experienced. Then again, maybe they’ve tried lesser, inadequate forms of it and experienced the fear that can affect only those who fear being trapped in their own minds can.
The Doctor of Distant Highways prescribes frequent doses of solitudinous reciprocating piston therapy, perhaps accompanied by contemplative long hikes, star-filled night skies, bacon and hot coffee on cold mornings, and the feeling of self satisfaction and independence one experiences when not just overcoming, but dominating, challenges.