Culture

Screaming Through The Cracks

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I’ve previously speculated that some conspiracy theorists and spiritual grifters don’t so much have beliefs, but an internal narrative they’re trying to keep up. These people are constantly telling a story, and can’t really interact with people so much as constantly self-soothe by making their internal narrative external. I believe I’ve witnessed a case of someone transitioning to this stage.

Unfortunately, it’s Russell Brand. So this might get rough because he’s painful to deal with.

I had followed Brand with some interest because of his transition from weird actor to accused sex criminal to weird right-wing anti-science religious crank. There was something strange about the man, but the podcast/videocast On Brand helped me understand Brand better – though be warned, if you listen to On Brand, you’ll find Russel even more annoying in large doses.

They had been following Brand for some time, and analyzing him. This got into my sphere as it intersected with my interests in conspiracy theories, politics, religion, and medicine. Russell had been heading for crankdom for some time, but the accusations of committing sex crimes seems to have accelerated his decline – obviously crying “conspiracy” is a way to insulate himself.. Curious about what I might learn about him, I tuned in to On Brand, and faced the verbal firehose that is Brand.

Russell is a fast talker, what one wit once called his “Artful dodger” routine. He comes on fast, goes in loops, says the same things many times, asks and answers his own questions and keeps going. He also will talk to utterly objectionable people while still maintaining he’s all about Jesus, love, humanity, and so on – and of course he keeps going. There’s not a moment of self-relfection in there, and in fact it takes time to figure if he’s talking about anything.

(Often he isn’t).

But as I listened, while only occasionally regretting my choices, I could feel him trying to make leaps of logic to deal with his situation. Verbal diarrhea to try to not deal with what he’s talking about, throwing out questions as opposed to answers, and constantly not settling on any one thing. The man wasn’t just trying to do a narrative, it felt outright avoidant of reality or any form of solidity.

There was a painfulness to it, not just cringe, but it felt like part of him knew he was full of bullshit. Brand wasn’t to the stage where he was entirely lost in his narrative, he knew down deep he was bullshitting, or at least wasn’t good enough to cover up the fact he was. Somewhere in there was a person that knew he was full of it.

It was unsettling. Brand’s an objectionable person, probably outright sex criminal (if not yet tried), and is probably going to end up founding a cult before things degenerate. But he didn’t have the decades some would-be gurus had, didn’t quite have his story as smooth, and you could tell. There was a bit of cringe, a bit of fear, just enough that you knew he knew what he was.

An actor that knew he was acting while ignoring his own acts.

In time, I’m sure he’ll be lost in his narrative. But for now I could look at the man, listen to him, and see someone in transition to that constant narrative, that endless self-soothing. Much as my first experience with Knowledge Fight helped me see self-soothing behavior in conspiracy figures, On Brand helped me see the transition.

I saw an awful person who still had bits of humanity in the cracks, as he worked to seal them away. I see people like him and how they work to be awful, and see how much work goes into becoming such monstrous, devouring, living narratives. It’s uglier than I would have thought.

  • Xenofact

Saints Not Gods

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We all hear people accused of “treating people like gods,” from politicians to tech entrepreneurs to actors. We may make such accusations, and might even be the targets of such criticisms. It’s something that got me thinking recently, noting the worshipful way people approached individuals over the years.

However, when I think about it when we say people are “treating others as gods” we’re actually not saying what we think we’re saying.

Consider when people approach another human being, from a podcaster to a writer, in an almost religious way. They praise their talent and vision and knowledge and whatever, but they also treat them as infallible. Such worshipped people aren’t just talented or beautiful, but morally accurate and superior.

Know what? Doesn’t sound like they’re gods to me.

Even a passing acquaintance with any mythology reveals that your average set of deities isn’t perfect. They are powerful, they are beautiful, they are wise or talented in their sphere of action. However they’re not what we’d call perfect in a moral way, because they are beings of specific spheres and inclinations and powers. Indeed some of my favorite myths are of the peccadilloes of the gods, from Thoth’s wordiness to Hermes’ tricky plays to Lu-Dong Bin’s post-Immortality love affairs.

Gods may have something to say but they’re not perfect creatures in the moral sense in most cases. Maybe that’s what makes them so accessible, since neither are we. They’re relatable.

I think when people get strangely religious about other humans and attribute to them some great moral meaning, they’re being treated as saints. They’re being treated as some morally perfect being, unquestionable, the same way a saint is seen as some approved-by-a-superior-being creature. They are being treated as perfect.

Which let us be honest, is often hilarious because people find some of the biggest dinks to worship. Like the more messed up they are the harder the worshipers work to act like they’re some moral paragon.

So next time someone talks of another human being who is treated like a god, ask if they really mean saint. Because it seems too often that’s what people really mean.

-Xenofact

Are You A Hero When It’s About You?

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A friend recently introduced me to a YouTube culture analyst Maggie Mae Fish. She did a two part analysis of Joseph Campbell, who really is a sexist and biased person with a very limited view of people. He’s famous for the too-present “Hero’s Journey” map with the usual Call To Action, Ordeal, etc. stuff we’ve seen everywhere from psychology to writing class. It will not surprise you that Maggie effectively points out, with humor, that Campbell’s “heroic pattern” is not universal.

And in fact, I don’t think it’s that heroic. I was never enchanted by Cambell, largely because of when I grew up. It always seemed sort of generic and washed-out to me, a psych major in the 80s, where we had weird Neo-Jungianism, high strangeness, and 60’s leftovers.

First, Campbell’s idea of a generic hero’s journey for all of humanity really doesn’t stand up if you have any awareness of world culture. In my own interest in Taoist culture, many of the Taoist hero stories don’t fit Campbell’s model – the call to “heroism” is often one of withdrawal, really screwing up, midlife crises, or become a point of regret in life. Just because he got George Lucas to pay attention to his ideas doesn’t mean they’re right.

And honestly, the idea that this is some common universal map is annoying. I’m tired of seeing it as a map of how to do fiction, how to do psychology, etc. It ignores a lot of human culture, experience, and models. Plus it doesn’t seem that damn heroic if someone handed you a checklist.

But Maggie Mae Fish’s channel really drove home to me that this model isn’t that heroic.

The “Hero’s journey” is all about the hero and their realization but it doesn’t seem like there’s much heroic being done. It always seems to be about them and their issues and so on, the world or princess or whatever existing only to be saved. The world is a prop to our so-called Hero, and needing the world as your stage doesn’t seem really freaking heroic.

(Just hearing about Campbell’s take on World War II was, well, not heroic.)

We can’t exactly call people heroes when it’s all about them. Perhaps at best they’re protagonists, but are they making the world better? Are they achieving great things greater than themselves? Looking back, Campbell’s model and his take on it seem selfish, so small.

Campbell turns our mythical heroes, clever tricksters to bloody combatants in mythology, into some kind of simplified self-realization therapy. I mean even some jerk of a monster slayer at least left you with less monsters around. Sure you kinda wanted him to move on thanks but he wasn’t waxing philosophic about his daddy issues.

As I seem to note repeatedly in my own meditative and mystical experiences, the map can become shackles. In the case of these heroic maps, maybe it even keeps you from being the hero it promises you can be. Then again, maybe “real heroes” are willing to get off the map and face the real unknown.

–Xenofact