The real Great Conspiracy

[This article is a companion piece to Virus: feared vector of health]

 There is no great conspiracy. – Me and lots of other people

There is a great conspiracy. – Me and lots of other people

I have come to the conclusion, after everything we’ve seen and heard, that the problem is not the virus. The problem is the so-called vaccines. And I am even close to coming to another conclusion, and that is: I really have very, very serious doubts that this virus, this alleged novel corona virus, has ever been isolated, properly. I think there is a very distinct possibility that all we’re seeing is a gigantic illusion, that was created by hundreds and hundreds of psychologists, psychiatrists and sociologists in order to put us in panic mode. Maybe even the gain-of-function experiments, or part of these experiments, serve that purpose. – Dr Reiner Füllmich

I knew these vaccines were not going to protect against infection, and I think we overplayed the vaccines and it made people then worry that it’s not gonna protect against severe disease and hospitalisation – it will – but let’s be very clear: 50% of the people who died from the omicron surge were older and vaccinated. – Deborah Birx

Introduction

There is a great conspiracy afoot. I’ve argued this point on several occasions. And yet, there is in fact no great conspiracy afoot. 

While the above paragraph may seem the basest semantic chicanery on my part, there is and there is not a great conspiracy afoot. It all depends on how we define “conspiracy”.

What I don’t believe

I do not believe there is a shadowy group controlling everything that happens in history in close accordance with some carefully constructed plan that evil ruling elites have been pursuing for centuries or millennia. Life is organic, not mechanistic. As such, it cannot be controlled. Further, being organic, we are of life much as fish are of the sea. As fish evolve, so evolves the sea, and, to some unknowable degree, vice versa. Symbiosis is the name of the game. 

Hence, control is an illusion, albeit a persistently alluring one.

On the other hand, civilisation must always be composed of shadowy groups that influence history. Civilisation is hierarchical (the vast majority of the time), so almost every instance thereof must have at least one group at the top of the pyramid, by definition. Any civilisation’s top-most group may, if so chosen, be perceived as shadowy by those outside that group. Or, it can be perceived as noble, elite, paternal, maternal, caring. This crude polarity represents the extreme ends of a dynamic range of interpretations available to us when perceiving those who have life-and-death power over us, like children trying to make sense of their caregivers. 

When we have very little information about a set of phenomena, we can project much of our hidden psychological material onto it. 

It is thus logically unavoidable that one consequence of how humans tend to operate, in combination with how civilisational structures influence human activity, is the perception of (shadowy) power groups up to no good.

But this tendency will also occur in the individuals that compose that top-most group. Just as we do, they look out into the world and project onto the various out groups that ‘surround’ them whatever of their own psychologies they are unfamiliar with. No doubt they spy great conspiracies afoot all around. No doubt, with so much to protect, with so much at stake, they feel surrounded by potential thieves and usurpers. No doubt some amount of paranoia is warranted!

So there is always, in potential, a great conspiracy afoot. It’s just a matter of context and perspective. In civilisation, there is much to gain and lose. History shows us this is so; people battle and struggle ceaselessly for as large a share of the pie as they can get their hands on. Conspiring will always represent some proportion of that process, and those who conspire will enjoy or suffer very differing degrees of ‘success’ and ‘failure’ as their plans play out.

But! Far more important than this, we are one; reality is one. We are creatures of the reality we jointly constitute. We are not cut off from reality, watching on from the sidelines of our private, isolated minds as though through a separating divide. It can seem that way, but it can only ever seem that way. Our ever changing context is composed of all of us doing, feeling and thinking everything we do, feel and think. Self and Other is necessarily a symbiosis, but one that is also a whole in its own right. 

Within that whole, it just so happens that ego needs to protect Self, at all costs, and finds Other threatening – to some extent. Ego, by my definition thereof, simply cannot perceive this organic symbiosis between Self and Other – what Darren Allen calls the “panjective” perspective –, cannot see how jointly responsible we all are as co-contributors to the context, the total situation, All That Is. Ego’s priorities are self-defence, self-defence and self-defence. So, if there is a great conspiracy afoot, you can bet your bottom pound sterling ego is responsible. And, most revealingly, ego will also be fundamentally wrong about what is actually afoot, seeing as it must filter out most of reality by virtue of its function: “consciousness in the service of fear” (Tom Campbell said that).

In my view, then, there is no shadowy group controlling all historical events.

What I believe

There is an unknowable number of shadowy groups failing to control everything that happens in history, and that failure is history. Further, our knowledge of historical events, and our perception thereof – here I mean everything that is available to humanity about the past – must forever be extravagantly incomplete, as well as subject to power struggles and groupthink, ego fears and ego ambitions around status and fame. 

As I’ve said before, it’s a mess out there, and authentic humility is the healthiest way through.

With regards to great conspiracies such as the ‘faked’ moon landing: I don’t know, nor do I really care. The same goes for lizard overlords; I neither know nor care. There are any number of ‘crazy’ conspiracy theories that appear to me as glitzy spectacle. I suspect these are nine parts opportunistic money making or mischievous attention-mania, and one part deliberate misinformation. It benefits those tasked with guiding how history unfolds – however self-deceptively and unsuccessfully – to muddy the waters, to poison the information pool just enough to keep real conspiring nicely hidden. Whether for ‘good’ or ‘ill’ – what’s wrong with maintaining control structures by any means possible and thereby preventing collapse into societal breakdown –, all sorts of tactics will be used to keep society ticking along as stably as possible. How else could it be. 

As the army chap played by Jack Nicholson in A Few Good Men bellowed, “You can’t handle the truth!” Thanks to modernity’s extreme specialisation and how different humans are from person to person, most of us do not want to know the whole truth about how society is kept more or less stable over time. Eggs are always being broken to make omelettes. We may well have the stomach to consume the omelettes modernity offers us for consumption, but very little appetite to inquire into how they came to be on our plates.

What I believe with regards to the covid phenomenon is that it is partly a great conspiracy, but mostly groupthink, hysteria, incompetence and error. Why would any group want to set this hysterical state of affairs into motion – i.e. trigger mass formation? Because we are at a pivotal historical juncture – perhaps peak oil is a part of this, perhaps ‘overpopulation’, perhaps technological advance, perhaps all that and more – and something historically new is being birthed. 

Those accustomed to modernity’s top-most positions want to keep their hands on history’s reins. They feel threatened by the potential for more sovereignty to the ‘masses’ implied by the internet’s stupendous power to instantly share information globally; feel threatened by the serious potential for messy, unpredictable societal collapse as economic growth hits its own brick wall; are afraid of the havoc unmanaged collapse would wreak perhaps for centuries to come, so have grasped the nettle and are attempting to steer history through this change and, by their management, keep the unavoidable destruction to a minimum. How much patrician disdain of the hoi polloi is at play, how much avuncular noblesse oblige, I do not know; it surely differs from person to person. But I can say this: I would be very surprised if my interpretation is wide of the mark.

And yet we are all involved. We are all participants in this ‘conspiracy’ by not wanting to grow up and take responsibility for our lives, by remaining unwilling to examine our preferences, our addictions, our fears. For as long as we shy from true maturity, we remain joint architects of our victimhood, distanced from our true sovereignty and power by our fearful state of being, and thus at the mercy of those we thereby implicitly command to push history on in the direction they choose, however erroneously, however self-deceptively. 

While things remain this way, we all willingly submit to the nature of the beast. As such, we are the great conspiracy. 

(I have a sneaking suspicion we all know this, however dimly.)

Viruses are currently conspiring to infect $cience!

This is why I wrote this article. This is the accidental but oh so poetic understory bubbling along at the bottom of it all. This is the unintended consequence well underway in the form of accidentally coalescing conspiracy concealed in a mass self-deception posing as an effective conspiracy that has many people fooled into mass-formation compliance. This is the dismantling of the plans of mice and men as life grows on anyway, right under our feet and up through the thin cracks of the plan’s poorly poured concrete.

There is contagion, there is infection; we are always subject to these processes, though often want to deny it. Everything infects everything else by virtue of being co-contributors to All That Is. My thoughts affect yours, yours affect mine; my body language influences yours, yours influences mine; their advertising is infectious; their politicising contagious; their weaponising pathogenic; their music seductive; their films bewitching; their farming nourishes us, assisted by the buzzing of bees, the slithering of worms, the crawling of beetles, the health of the soil. Everything ‘infects’ everything else. 

Except for viruses. They can’t do anything at all.

Viruses are not what we think they are. Viruses are a theorised explanation for disease phenomena – contagion vectors – we still understand but poorly. Viruses are a theoretical error, a projection by flawed humans onto poorly understood observed particles that do not function as argued by virology. Those shapes arrows point at in images from electromicroscopy are not vectors of disease as claimed, are not pathogenic as claimed, they are something else; biological or biochemical phenomena that are the consequence of the experimental methods used since 1954 to ‘prove’ the existence of viruses. They are not actually the ‘viruses’ looked for so fervently by means of that methodology. They are cell detritus produced by the process virology self-deceptively calls “isolation”.

Could this be true? My previously idle curiosity on this point is now tilting strongly towards soft conviction because it is poetically resonant it should be so, namely that the only non-contagious thing in reality is ‘virus’. And the result of this beautiful possibility, should it come to light properly, could be to dissolve $cience almost over night. Just think how much money is made because ‘viruses’ are thought to be vectors of disease.

The $cience is dead! Long live the sciences!

It would be divinely sweet, humbling, and all encompassing. This is the burning question: What can science tell us? What are the sure fruits of dependent and independent variables, falsifiability, and correctly impartial experimentation? How much of reality can be defined and understood by these means? I suspect far less than we want to be the case. 

Is virology about to cause $cience to ail and wither, to purge it of its corruption, its financial toxins? Is virology pathogenic to $cience?

If ‘viruses’ deliver this outcome – ‘virus’ as chosen reason for draconian lockdowns, total surveillance, digital currencies, endlessly sustained pandemics, social-credit systems and digital IDs, ‘virus’ as the launchpad for all that totalitarian architecture –, then the erroneous idea of ‘virus’ will have reverse infected society into a beautifully crude yet poetically elegant awakening that no other thing could possibly have managed. How sweetly poetic that accidental conspiracy would be!

The biologically microscopic, the pre-life mists of proteins and RNA we have misperceived – because we can – as dirty little buggers, not to be trusted, insidious assassins infecting us all by lurking invisibly on the wind, on your children’s hands, on your shopping bags, on the words “I love you” breathed from your partner … those tiny things are a collectively projected nightmare more darkly redolent of the spiritual void where community trust used to be than anything else I could ever have imagined. 

The money-convenience trap

 Introduction

One of civilisation’s objectives is to minimise the level of danger its people are exposed to. The degree to which it succeeds in this determines its longevity. In other words, one of civilisation’s primary attractions is its promise of a safe, predictable environment in which its people may flourish. 

But, as we grow accustomed to civilisation’s low-risk environment – relative to what we ‘civilised’ like to think of as The Wild – we culturally forget survival and self-sufficiency skills as time passes (understandably enough). Consequently, our cultural need for a safer environment exacerbates itself in a positive feedback loop from generation to generation. 

We could argue that moderns have now become almost hysterically allergic to any indication, however slight, that Danger Approacheth, Danger Might Possibly Approacheth!! Our danger-sensitivity dials seem permanently set to 11 in a world where no meaningful day-to-day danger exists. Things like distant wars and variously lethal viruses don’t count. Indeed, assuming virology is correct and what it calls viruses are pathogenic, what is the probability you might die of, say, ebola? Even squalor and poverty don’t fulfil the same function as organic danger in the sense adopted in this article; they grind away at us relentlessly, too abstract to attack or run from, holding us forever at one crushing remove from the respect from others we need. (And if you are unlucky enough to be in one of those distant wars, their danger levels far exceed what humans are biologically constituted to healthily process.)

Nevertheless, our long-disregarded instincts have a powerful say in how we behave. Distracted by other concerns, we fail to interact with our instincts consciously, manage them unwisely if at all, misunderstand them, demonise them. Consequently, they are now like psychotic, hyperactive infants running the show from the shadows, fractiously incoherent, desperately ignored.

In light of this observation, is it reasonable to suggest we’ve become too accustomed to manufactured convenience as a palliative for the constant anxiety we suffer in our ‘tamed’ world? Is there a tension between that palliative convenience on the one hand, and our reflexive allergy to danger on the other, a tension that, among other things, sustains money beyond its natural life?

I’m beginning to suspect this is so, that this article’s subject matter – money’s apparent resistance to changing circumstances – might not, as I once suspected, be anchored in the false dichotomy of abundance and scarcity, but primarily in one of spiralling convenience, the habituated effects of that spiralling on cultural expectations, and in our worsening allergic relationship with reality’s correcting, but healthy, vicissitudes.

We’ll examine whether money – scarcity’s perpetuator –  is now civilisation’s endemic surrogate for the dispatched dangers of The Wild, note that it doesn’t make a very good fist of it, and learn that we appear to be, thanks to money’s overly aggressive performance in this regard, culturally incapable of transcending it. 

The ouroboros of money and scarcity → convenience addiction

A few millennia ago, money formally entered the scene. Not in any way as a response to any detected lopsidedness regarding danger and survival instincts, of course, but as a needed tool of societal control and civilisational expansion. As money increasingly became a creature of market-based price discovery, however, it slowly began to plug the hole created by our over-sterilised, over-tamed environment of diminishing biodiversity in which the full, magnificent range our biologically attuned senses and abilities became far too underemployed. Ignored and undervalued, our biology has more influence on proceedings than we want to know, including addicting us to stuff we neither need nor want.

We all Just Know™ that Life’s Not Fair, that There’s Not Enough To Go Around. But these pat truisms in which ego loves to wallow – and all others like them – are not the organic fruit of our intimate, day-to-day experience of what we might call “natural forces”. Rather, they are ego-cultural surrogates born of man-made laws dressed up as natural forces, e.g. “The Law of Supply and Demand”. 

Peering through the lens of money, we intellectually perceive a seemingly organic transition from The Wild to Civilisation. There are scarcity, exchange, preference and risk in rain forests, we astutely observe, just as there are in free markets. So it looks for all the world as if money functions as both conduit and bridge between the two worlds by enabling ‘progress’ from the former to the latter while efficiently keeping civilisation’s feet on the ground by holding its lofty, cerebral ambitions in check. 

My argument, however, is that money makes life artificially hard because it requires scarcity; only when products are scarce do we need money, as price, to distribute them efficiently. I say “artificially”, because humans spent the vast majority of their existence in conditions of abundance. It is thus not a species-level need that life be hard in the particular sense of scarcity and perpetual competition, but hard somehow (if at all). 

Furthermore, while it is true, no doubt, that the abundance ‘primitive’ peoples know has nothing to do with consumerism and keeping up with the Joneses, and while it is also no doubt true that this basic abundance is punctuated by bouts of scarcity, it is clearly abundance nevertheless, much the same as that enjoyed by, say, bonobos. To be clear, not excessive abundance of everything, nor an infinite amount of anything, but more than enough of most things most of the time; what I think of as organic, homeostatic abundance. A biosphere that functioned otherwise would be dysfunctional, I suspect, in much the same way the human body becomes dysfunctional when there are insufficient nutrients and calories to sustain its health.

In pithier form: We moderns have somehow come to Just Know™ that life is very hard and very unfair. But this reflex is a cultural phenomenon coincidentally anchored in money. It is a perversion of an organic, species-wide knowing rooted in our biology via intimate day-to-day experience of a richly biodiverse wild over great tracts of time.

There is thus a profound difference between hunter-gatherer and civilised social modalities across this very axis: the gulf carved between us by money. Systems shaped by structural scarcity from their fundament up promote socially corrosive competition over resources, and are also institutionally constituted to require perpetual growth, the kind that takes larger and larger bites out of The Wild and manufactures them into the conveniences we insatiably demand. “Insatiably” because we are highly manipulatable, via advertising and propaganda, precisely on account of our underdeveloped relationship with and awareness of our instincts, our bodies, our biology.

Modernity’s ‘need’ for what it misunderstands as a Hard Life is thus unlearnable rather than hardwired, albeit, I suspect, only after deep system shock.

All that said, it is true enough that Life Is Hard from the ego’s perspective. Ego is self-oriented and fear-based, obsessed with control, and paranoid. The question we should put to our egos is: To what extent and in what quality should life be hard? Must a hard life be squalor for most of the planet’s human population, prison ships, endless profit-seeking wars, holding down three jobs for the ‘fortunate’ poor, violent crime, continual state malfeasance, corrupted justice systems, perpetual anxiety and cynicism, etc.? That kind of hard? Or perhaps acquiring wisdom through courageous risk taking, weathering the ups and downs of life, painful friendship disputes, broken romances, love and loss, the challenges of parenthood, etc? What’s wrong with that kind of hard?

Convenience eats its young

We’ve lived with systemic scarcity – and its temporary palliative Convenience – for longer than we can remember. It’s a struggle to imagine anything else. Star Trek once touched on the idea of a moneyless future, but has since dropped that ‘dream’. Most of what now passes for future-oriented fantasy depicts reality just like today, only with fancier clothes and vehicles. That said, technological convenience is catching up so fast, there’s now little to distinguish between fiction and normality. Drenched in scarcity and mass-produced plenty, we’ve become cynical and uninspired. We’re dimly aware there were once dreams of doing things very differently, but, well, they all fell painfully on their noses, I seem to recall, and anyway, I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve got better things to do with my scarce spare time, like watch videos of cats falling into fish tanks.

But look at how we are. Look at what we’re doing to each other, to our own children. How many of us want to raise our young by making life as hard for them as we can? Does grinding hardship make children wise, happy, healthy? How about a grey, Kafka-esque future governed by ever watchful bureaucratic machinery reaching into every sphere of their lives? How about a culture of endless pornographic spectacle as far as the eye can see?

Consider the other living beings we share this planet with: Do their young require endless hardship to flourish? Or do they perhaps need Just The Right Conditions for their flourishing? 

We know bitterly that Life Out There is tough. We are obliged to prepare our children for it, toughen them up, make them attractive to future employers, raise them high enough above their competitors (their fellow travellers). This process, we believe, requires routine discipline and rote learning of sterile lakes of information that spill from dull text books about this, that, and other unrelated things. I know it’s boring, darling, but you need it to get X, and you need X to get Y. Maybe after Y you’ll start to enjoy life. I know, I’m not a particularly happy adult, and none of my ‘friends’ are either, but you could be if you work hard enough! Besides, the alternative is far, far worse. Now, do your homework like a good girl!

Bizarrely, we are surprised and confused when our children don’t thrive, when we see them suffering, dull and listless, uninspired by life.

The future we prepare our children for is increasingly doom laden precisely because money requires scarcity, intensifies competition, and makes for ever busier lives of ever diminishing meaning. It also straitjackets our imagination via its command of the value system, and hijacks our desires down narrowing channels loudly daubed with nothing more than garish bling. As a result of all this, we end up devouring our young in hot, collective pursuit of an easy life: aka convenience addiction.

We sense, don’t we, somewhere deep down, that these status carrots we dangle in front of our children’s open faces don’t really make anyone happy. They’re just a lot better than the stick of grinding poverty. Or maybe a little better. I’m honestly not sure anymore.

Conclusion

So exactly what amount of hardship do we need? Well, I think that’s the very wrong question. Such thinking makes us want to architect our lives down to the last detail, map out our futures with masterful precision, direct ourselves inexorably towards something certain, only to go crazy failing in that task, even when we ‘succeed’. 

We think too little too much, in the wrong way. We feel too little too much, in the wrong way. We are wan images of what we could have been, if only … if only something else were discernible. 

But I’m confident you can feel it. I don’t mean have emotional reactions to the horrible choices the future forces us to make, but feel, intuit, sense some Other Way where happiness and health are inside each other like exquisite Russian Dolls, equally sized, equally mysterious, different and the same and you can hardly tell which is which. Sadly – happily – this Other Way can only be hinted at. It is not clear, not easy to find, not easy to stay on. It is not mapped out. It is not just around the corner. It is nascent, untried, untrod. Each of us must develop the courage to want it. We have to dare to try with absolutely no guarantee of success. Except, of course, you are absolutely guaranteed to succeed if you really try. I know this is so because “success” is not what we think it is. Which is where the courage comes in, precisely that courage that terrifies the ego.

An easy life, an automated ‘paradise’ free of work, free of risk, clear-cut of the wild, tamed entirely, replete with glittering conveniences and consumer choice is not what I am talking about. Nor is it what we want. It is what we are conditioned to want; a fantasy utopia we have lost ourselves to, what our imagination has been curtailed by. It is money’s honey-trap dream, civilisation’s featureless finale.

I envision a life of meaningful risks and challenges, of rich interconnections and interdependencies, of living villages raising their young in love and openness and play, of boundaries blurred, dichotomies differently lived, a wild-wise mix of karma and dharma. 

I see money between us and it, money, that is, as a structuring design wiring our cultural reflexes to mechanical competition over scarce petty things of no real value, things we cannot take with us when we die. 

What we take with us is what we are: that quality we earn by living how we live. This quality, being quality, is immeasurable. Being made of numbers, money measures, quantifies. It is thus fake-karma machinery of oscillating, market-based rebalancing and sweeping rich-poor judgements that must forever remain incapable of directly advancing human wisdom beyond the narrow domain governed by quantity. Money conjures the very antithesis of ‘rich’ because it steadily strips reality of quality as the sun would turn the planet to desert – left to reign alone. It stripmines diversity in blinkered pursuit of efficiency. It mechanises the organic. It smells of ego, stinks of control. And, unsurprisingly, it is hotly defended, just as ego will always hotly defend its stuff.

The need (or function) I have here argued that money fulfils – a surrogate for organic danger and risk – is no triviality, though. Money has obviously been a fundamentally important societal glue given civilisation’s vector; its reign spans millennia. But it is nevertheless of its time, of its context. I cannot tell how long its reign has left; that sort of thing is far above my pay grade. I’m confident, however, we want it to end – “want” in the manner I suggest above. As convenience spirals out of control, as societal dysfunction lurches into allergic hysteria, we face the sorts of choices this article presents. As globalists install their desired technotopia of smart cities and AI control of human behaviour, as their programme unleashes more and more brutal, violent outputs and unintended consequences, as its freakish malfunctions become increasingly apparent, so the pressure to acknowledge these choices increases. Many will refuse to face them, come what may. Those of a pioneering spirit, on the other hand, will find the courage to take this challenge on, and indeed are doing just that. It is to them I speak in hope that they might listen, assuming my analysis accords with reality well.