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

McMindfulness: Aware In The Dark

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I picked up McMindfulness by Ronald E Purser when I saw it at a store, right after it had been mentioned on a podcast.  I’d heard of this look at the “mindfulness industry” and how repurposed stripped-down Buddhism was used to basically serve capitalism.  So I picked it up, read it, and found that my summary was a little too genteel.  So let me review the book – and heartily recommend it.

The book starts by looking at how, over the decades, mindfulness exercises taken in part from Buddhism had become big business in seminars and corporate advice.  The core idea is that you become more aware of your actions (and reactions) and thus mindful, are not as troubled by the world because you are so aware.  You’ll notice, by the way, it stops there – you just learn to navigate the world better as opposed to asking “why am I so stressed out?” and “why do things suck?”

The author, a Buddhist himself, walks through the Mindfulness Industry and shows how widespread it is but also how useless it is.  Since the industry is firmly lodged in neoliberal capitalism, it has no interest in fixing the system it’s in – which often causes the problem.  In fact, seeing how Mindfulness has become a corporatized product illustrates the problems of our economic and culture – which the Mindfulness Industry can’t and won’t solve.

During this tour, Purser notes firmly and intelligently that this separated selfish pseudo-self awareness misses out on Buddhism’s teachings on community, compassion, and responsibility.  The Mindfulness Industry doesn’t just take a few bits of Buddhism, it outright excludes the social elements of the religion and its teachings.  It couldn’t include them since then they’d basically be selling something that wouldn’t fill those big corporate conferences – and worse.

Because, Purser goes in depth more than I expected on mindful politics, war-waging, and more.  We’re so used to the “mindfulness” stuff we might not realize how far it’s penetrated, showing up in banal political speeches and efforts that desensitize people in the name of “not being reactive.”  Even if you pay attention to this stuff, you may be surprised beyond your capacity for cynicism.

Purser also speculated on how McMindfulness produces a selfish, separated, almost abstract sense of self.  I can see echoes of the prosperity gospel and online conspiracy theories in his speculations – both ways to seek wealth and self-aggrandizement, but without any responsibility or even real transformation.  If anything, I think there’s more to study in this area.

He does see hope – or ways – to free Mindfulness from its current corporate shackling.  So it’s not a hopeless book – it’s one carried by a kind of passionate loving rage.  So yes, you’ll get angry Buddhist when you read this.

A firm recommendation for seekers like ourselves.

-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