The video excerpts I have posted since 6 June 2017 were selected for specific purposes. First, to educate the educable. Second, to survey the reaction from the hate group also known as ASC (Anti-Scientology Cult) when it is fed but a tiny dose of its own medicine, albeit in a far more reasonable, rational and truthful fashion than it has ever administered it.
The ASC’s responses on whole have served to corroborate the central messages I have posted about (and talked about in the recent video excerpts) over the past year and one half. From the troika on down it has been a seething cluster of mimicry of the behavior that ASC claims it is its solemn duty to expose about Scientology. While its reality tv stars continue to profit on accusations that Scientology censors unfavorable outside information, ASC’s leading lights went to the mattresses to keep its flock from watching the videos posted on this site.
I know my views have long-since become anathema to ASC members and that its hijinks are far more popular generally than any ideas I have shared. That is fine by me. After all, trolling, cyber bullying, tribalizing, marginalizing, and even opioid abuse too have become very popular of late.
How do warlike tribes resembling cults form up in cyberspace? Pankaj Mishra offers historical, psychological, and sociological answers in Age of Anger (2017). A short passage from that book provides food for thought and self-reflection:
The current vogue for the zombie apocalypse in films seems to have been anticipated by the multitudes on city pavements around the world, lurching forward while staring blankly at screens. Constantly evolving mobile media technologies such as smartphones, tablets and wearable devices have made every moment pregnant with the possibility of a sign from somewhere. The possibility, renewed each morning, of ‘likes’ and augmented followers on social media have boosted ordinary image consciousness among millions into obsessive self-projection. The obligation to present the most appealing side of oneself is irresistible and infectious. Digital platforms are programmed to map these compulsive attempts at self-presentation (or, self-prettification), and advertisers stand ready to sell things that help people keep counterfeiting their portraits.
Meanwhile, in the new swarm of online communities – bound by Facebook shares and retweets, fast-moving timelines and twitter storms – the spaces between individuals are shrinking. In his prescient critique of the neo-liberal notion of individual freedom, Rousseau had argued that human beings live neither for themselves nor for their country in a commercial society where social value is modelled on monetary value; they live for the satisfaction of their vanity, or amour propre: the desire and need to secure recognition from others, to be esteemed by them as much as one esteems oneself.
But, as Kierkegaard pointed out, the seeker of individual freedom must ‘break out of the prison in which his own reflection holds him’, and then out of the ‘vast penitentiary built by the reflection of his associates’. He absolutely won’t find freedom in the confining fun-house mirrors of Facebook and Twitter. For the vast prison of seductive images does not heal the perennially itchy and compulsively scratched wounds of amour propre. On the contrary: even the most festive spirit of communality disguises the competitiveness and envy provoked by constant exposure to other people’s success and well-being.
As Rousseau warned, amour proper is doomed to be perpetually unsatisfied. Too commonplace and parasitic on fickle opinion, it nourishes in the soul a dislike of one’s own self while stoking impotent hatred of others; and amour propre can quickly degenerate into an aggressive drive, whereby an individual feels acknowledged only by being preferred over others, and by rejoicing in their abjection – in Gore Vidal’s pithy formulation, ‘It’s not enough to succeed. Others must fail.’