Matrix, Orwellian freedom, surveillance, corrupting language
by Jon Rappoport
October 2, 2015
(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Power Outside The Matrix, click here.)
“The demands of the machine are insatiable. The danger of shaking men out of the soporific results of mechanized knowledge is similar to that of attempting to arouse a drunken man or one who has taken an overdose of sleeping tablets. The necessary violent measures will be disliked. We have had university professors threatened with the loss of their positions for less than this.” (Harold Innis, 1947)
Note the word “mechanized” in the above quote. It’s no longer used to describe education. Instead, we have “systems.” Or “patterns.”
These newer terms aren’t given a negative connotation. Indeed, they’re offered as heralds of a new and better world.
In this re-framing, we all need systems. The more the better.
The thrust of the sciences is: “life itself is an interlocked system.”
This statement is a form of indoctrination.
The Surveillance State is also, of course a system. It’s based on the premise that ALL freedom has to be monitored and tracked.
Meanwhile, modern “democratic” elites have redefined freedom. This is at the heart of what they’re doing.
They want freedom to mean “doing the right thing for the greatest good of the greatest number of people.” Never mind that such a re-framing is a complete non-sequitur. In the social engineering game, the op goes this way: “Every person would use his freedom to do the right thing; therefore, coercing people to do it is part of freedom.”
It’s Orwellian. It makes no sense. But that’s what’s on the table. “Let’s eliminate the ‘choice’ part of freedom and go directly to what a free person would do and make that into ideal and necessary behavior.”
The Surveillance State classifies those who disagree as threats.
Asserting freedom as a pure and independent value raises a red flag.
Because freedom isn’t a system.
It’s something very different. Therefore, it has to be stamped out.
Over the past 65 years, a tremendous amount of propaganda has been devoted to redefining freedom as “what freedom should lead to.” Behavior. Brainwashed college students are essentially taught: “Forget the free part of freedom. Let’s go right to the question of what freedom should produce. That’s why we’re here. That’s what we’re going to learn. It’s a short-cut. We’re going to tell you what any decent and correct human being would do with his freedom, so you can do it.”
The recent MIT experiments to induce “false memories” in rats, as well as the DARPA research aimed at inserting images directly into the visual cortex, reveal the direction important brain research is taking. Change the past and change perception, if necessary, to make people do the right thing.
Cause them to remember a past that dictates what the right thing is.
One of John Gatto’s more startling insights about education goes as follows: the great robber barons (Rockefeller, Morgan, Carnegie) looked around and realized they owned the country. The game was over. So they invented, and controlled, a second form of “synthetic capitalism.” This sophisticated charade was linked to education. A new professional class of super-educated people would become the major players…
Well, those trained chickens have come home to roost, in the sense that they are now being deployed as experts, tasked to reorganize society in the 21st century. Their job is to turn society into a system, in which freedom is a synonym for “best behavior.”
To make sure this come to pass, everyone must be watched. The real purpose of surveillance is, in the long run, ensuring that behavior.
Any individual who enlists in this future does so by entering a trance. The aim of hypnosis is a collective definition of The Good. This was exactly the pattern that Plato laid out in The Republic. For him, The Good was the highest Form in the ultimate dimension where all ideas existed in a perfected state. The ruling Philosopher Kings had exclusive and intimate and superior knowledge of The Good.
Thought experiment: Write down a definition of “the greatest good for the greatest number,” and then, in your life, for a few days or so, base all your actions on it. Exclude all other considerations. You’ll find yourself in an altered state, and you’ll also notice you’re, in essence, hypnotizing yourself. You’re narrowing your focus, space, and thought.
You’re referring all your behavior to a central and single idea. You’re systematizing yourself.
This is the principle of reduction of consciousness.
In this civilization, reduction is increasingly touted as “an answer.” Simplifying thought is said to equal insight. Freely proliferating consciousness is highly suspect.
Here is a brief fragment from my work-in-progress, The Magician Awakes:
John Q opened his eyes after the surgery. He saw a floral pattern hanging in mid-air, and inscribed along every stem and stylized petal were rows of refrigerated thoughts.
Major Kelsen walked into the hospital room with a big grin on his face. ‘We’ve done it,’ he said. ‘John Q, you now have an auxiliary mind. It’s better than the original. You’re in on the ground floor with the mob.’
John Q struggled to speak, but his mouth was a dry desert and the wind was picking up in his cerebral cortex. It was blowing away ideas like sand and leaving him prone, a stick of bleached wood.
‘No need to track you anymore, kid,’ the Major said. ‘You’re free. You’re the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution now. You’re immune.’
John Q tried to say, stay away from my brain, but he couldn’t. It was too late anyway. He could already feel himself radiating with low-level happiness. It was bleeding from his pores. He was sensing INCLUSION.
Belsen hovered over him with a mirror.
‘Look at yourself, son. Your face is changing. Do you even recognize who you are? Do you remember who you were? Those constructs are both fading. You’re in the moment. Zen. You’re the animal you were meant to be, finally. The President wants to see you. This is big-time. You’re the beginning of an army.’
John Q suddenly saw a gold-crested falcon sitting on Belsen’s shoulder. It was looking straight at him. ‘I come in before the opening credits,’ it said.
Belsen nodded. ‘See, John Q, we don’t want you to think you’re a slave. That would be stupid and wrong. We want to make you proud. We’ve eliminated some complexity that was in your way, that’s all. We’ve boiled down your PROCESS. Your enemies are now the people who want to make things complicated.’
John Q was beginning to fade. He needed sleep. But Belsen was getting through. WHY PROLIFERATE THINKING? Wasn’t the key simplification? Of course. It had to be. If you had a dish called the truth, you could serve it on a single plate. Why had it ever seemed otherwise?
He took inventory. He could still see the floral pattern. The thoughts that lay frozen along its stems and petals? They were now faces of all the people he’d ever known, ever met. Yes. And THEY all knew something he hadn’t, until now: they knew the truth was simple and available. He was joining them. He was, finally, linked to them. Their secret was open to him. He’d been let in.
They’d figured out how to attain REDUCTION. It didn’t really matter, he realized, what the mind’s content was. All that mattered was that simplicity had been achieved.
THIS was what everyone else was so proud of. This was what he’d never grasped.
Belsen smiled. ‘Go to sleep, kid,’ he said. ‘We nailed it. The worst is over.’
John Q closed his eyes. He dozed. He dreamed that men were stationed at the outskirts of his mind pushing walls in toward him. As they moved, he felt better. Step by step.
Thank you, he said. Thank you for taking this burden away. I’m all summaries now. I’m a chosen one.
Then, sounds came into him. Tearing fabric. Splitting threads. Stone breaking.
Eyes in space looked toward a central point. The eyes all snapped shut. A man walked out of an old brown door. He said, ‘John Q, you’re thinking too much about what’s happening to you. Synaptic circuits we installed are cracking. We’re putting you under again for a second surgery. This will be even better.’
John Q felt delight flood his body. He remembered he was a publisher of books. Now, in one blasting stroke, he had access to every line in every book he’d ever printed. Was this what they wanted to give him?
He was awake in the hospital room. Light was filling the space and it exploded, and he was hurled through a wall of light, and he was outside, in the city, in the open air at high noon. He was soaring under clouds, above the buildings, flying, complicated, alive, hearing wild lines burning in an unknown language, his hospital gown tearing away from his body.
Then he heard: YOU’RE BETRAYING US ALL!
He looked below. A crowd was gathering in the street. They were trying to magnetize him and pull him down. They were screaming. They were The Reduction for Freedom Brigades.
Even at this height, he could recognize some of their faces. He had seen them at parades, at celebrations of the One Joy, singing and reciting oaths of the simplification…
“I’ve got a problem,” he said to the sky.
But he kept on flying, higher and higher, and the pull against his free motion faded…
The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.
Whew…! I feel better now. Much better and relieve, knowing that John Q, was finally strong enough to not be magnetised and pulled down by the mob in the street below him.
Could you have imagined the John Q. joining the Che Guevara Fan Club?
Good Grief! He would have lost all of my admiration.
Jon, I just finish listening to yesterday’s interview with Annie Jacobsen, the writer of the new book: The Pentagon’s Brain: An Uncensored History of DARPA, America’s Top-Secret Military Research Agency
Amazing coincidence, because it is really connected to your story about John Q,
Everybody should listen to this interview. Very interesting and educating.
Start listening at: 50:56
The Alex Jones Show (VIDEO Commercial Free) Friday October 2 2015: Annie Jacobsen, Peter Schiff
Socialism and communism are the antithesis to creativity, imagination and individualism. A road we are headed down. I’ve been slamming on the breaks lately, being more vocal about my opposition to mandatory vaccines. Suddenly, the drummer in my husband’s band (a chunk of our income comes from) decided that my husband can no longer come to their house for rehearsals since our kids (who never see theirs) are not vaccinated. He and his wife work for the govt, so I guess they get all the propaganda pamphlets from work and assume they know better than everyone else? I’m kind of in shock because this last two years of the Obama administration are the first time in my life I’ve become a socially acceptable victim of all out discrimination. I guess they are doing something. I can’t say it’s right, though.
“Socialism and communism are the antithesis to creativity, imagination and individualism.”
…and democracy? and how about crypto-fascism?
This is precisely the reason Art faculties within Universities, and art education within the public and secondary school systems are being closed down in supposedly Democratically ‘Free” countries. And to add a point, the more recent attacks on Philosophy, and Literature as extensions of free thought.
Imagination, creativity are the basis of those faculties. They encourage, stimulate, strengthen, and expand such consciousness. They breed individuality.
Art sets you free.
Being anti-authoritarian can become such sport. I mean really…really it becomes an exercise in utility. I can’t be completely useless. Am I capable of standing toe to toe. Maybe there is a reason for me. The need to be on the right side. And it eventually grows to the only thing you know. And as you aptly put becoming ‘a collections of summaries’.
Personal spaces are closed or closing down and you feel you are fighting for what really is right.
But your just angry still that some motherfucker a long time ago got a sick pleasure out of caning you because; like a whack a mole, you kept sticking your head up for what you thought was good and kind. You kept trying to defend the under doggie. Meanwhile good and kind is the answer to their formula. Meanwhile good and kind is where they wanted you to go.
At first its the Knights and mythologized heroes, pure of quest, pure of heart, innocent in their idealism, virginal in their intent, Marquis of Queensberry; then its the Holden Caulfield identity crisis, the disgruntled youths trying to come to term with conflict of the fairy-tale past and the reality of life is complicated now, and then the graduate to the Edward Snowdens and Julian Assanges schools of cluster controlled opposition that drive the need to reach for what is even more righteous.
The fatal flaw that was planted in the heart a long time ago. The wound that will not heal.
There is no right or wrong, there is only dualism. And the delusion of living in someone elses reality and believing that your are truly free to be it…except we have some guide lines.
Or in my case ODD (Oppositional Defiance Disorder) in the myriad of defiance with a good sprinkling of anarchy to get that fire rolling.
Nothing a Prozac the size of a hockey puck can’t fix.
It seems every perfect idealist ends in a pool of blood, imprisoned or madness.
The Little Black Boy
My mother bore me in the southern wild,
And I am black, but O! my soul is white;
White as an angel is the English child:
But I am black as if bereav’d of light.
My mother taught me underneath a tree
And sitting down before the heat of day,
She took me on her lap and kissed me,
And pointing to the east began to say.
Look on the rising sun: there God does live
And gives his light, and gives his heat away.
And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive
Comfort in morning joy in the noonday.
And we are put on earth a little space,
That we may learn to bear the beams of love,
And these black bodies and this sun-burnt face
Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove.
For when our souls have learn’d the heat to bear
The cloud will vanish we shall hear his voice.
Saying: come out from the grove my love & care,
And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice.
Thus did my mother say and kissed me,
And thus I say to little English boy.
When I from black and he from white cloud free,
And round the tent of God like lambs we joy:
Ill shade him from the heat till he can bear,
To lean in joy upon our fathers knee.
And then I’ll stand and stroke his silver hair,
And be like him and he will then love me.
Ok Jon. Here is my last comment. Yes this is a variation of my own exercise for stepping outside of my comfort zone. Writing something I would not normally write through fear of embarrassment or sounding cheesy. It is not reflecting the past. I am getting a vibe that I should not be here from the last few articles and a few before that lol. and it is more clear this time.
It’s a crappy poem and yes I read it a few times. I did not try to make it sound cool or poetic. I wrote one stanza at a time making sure I did not alter it out of a fear of how I would be perceived and not allowing any perfectionism. Which is a fear of mine. Understanding that I do not belong here it is my last comment. No worries, I will not come back to read any comments if there are any. I will not be tempted to read any more free articles no matter how interesting they might be. Do I think I can do this? I do:)
So here it is. Thanks for the articles and the program.
What seems like a lifetime of misunderstood
Is a reminder waiting in everyone?
Behind all three doors
But you choose anyway
When there are no doors
When there are doors
When there are no doors
When there are doors
Repeats another if then
A lifetime of thinking in opposites
Is it because I am a lefty?
Nothing hidden there
Is left handed more precise?
You know if only they can see me
As I believe myself to be
And not through a filter
I cannot fit their mold if I tried
But yet in their world it is a perfect fit
Is it hard to believe wanting to connect?
With that which may be worthwhile?
A perfect circle only exists in math
So do those that do not pretend
Did you ever wish to be wrong?
And be proud of it?
Why is conflict so attractive?
To everyone but me
Why is there always a neat little place in someone else’s model?
Why can’t I decide what place?
But I can, they say
But then it is against their will right?
So then we are back to pretending
I really do not need to belong
I promise this is not for sympathy
Oh lord I hope you do not think this for that
I have no knowledge of what I really want
Maybe to look at someone interesting
But as themselves
Even if briefly
At least humor me
That we are all not really alone
Who really knows someone?
Truly know someone [see bad English here, someone in the audience shouts speak English or go home lol]
Even my best friends hide
Even the girl I am going to marry
I let everyone see me as I am
They never believe
Everyone wants to see deception
How can they possibly think that?
Perhaps they don’t
And the Joke is on me
But of course they can never take the risk
Nor care to
Cause it might be on them
That is the barrier
Between authentic interaction
[giggles from the audience]
Then there is the idea
Of not one bit of interest
In someone so different
Is it the fear of looking bad?
Not interested in someone
Not on the same level as they see it?
Afraid of what others think
Afraid of what they think
Or better yet not even worth a thought
[This is where everyone is laughing by now and cheering]
Is it so difficult to believe someone actually wants to learn something?
No matter how many layers of thoughts
I know the truth
The bad penny that keeps coming back
That’s me right?
That is good writing
This is how it goes
This cannot change here or there
Not sure if I want it to change
Cause I think the same
On a certain level
So it’s back to pretending
Of course it’s me
Of course it’s you
No one can ever know each other
Pretending is much safer
Laugh away folks
So here it is
My last friggin comment folks!
Your forum is as it was always
No more distractions
It’s ok really
I am not interested 😉
[Standing ovation and applause and laughter]
I am embarrassed now. It does not feel that bad. Take care.
“The recent MIT experiments to induce “false memories” in rats, as well as the DARPA research aimed at inserting images directly into the visual cortex, reveal the direction important brain research is taking.”
Another fascinating read along these lines: