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Tag: Trauma model of mental disorders

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Deranged altruism Kevin MacDonald

The iceberg

The Aryan problem is similar to what we cannot see from a ship when we spot an iceberg. That’s why racialists focus only on what they can see: the JQ, what is on the surface of the sea.

Kevin MacDonald’s recent article is splendid to understand my point of view: the Aryan problem is much more massive than the Jewish problem.

MacDonald quotes a recent Twitter thread of a young, blue-eyed blonde whose face might as well appear on this site’s sidebar, but who relishes that white people like her are becoming a minority in her country.

The serious thing is not so much this Tweet of a woman who hates her beautiful race. The worst part is that, as MacDonald points out, her Tweet garnered thousands of approvals from many other whites who hate themselves and yearn for them to become a minority. (I had already become aware of this phenomenon with the gigantic numbers of whites marching, on behalf of blacks, in various western cities in the wake of the BLM destructions.)

Neither in the comments section of The Occidental Observer nor in The Unz Review, where Ron reposted MacDonald’s article, is the professor’s diagnosis of what he calls ‘altruistic punishment’ questioned. MacDonald alleges in his diagnosis that such a phenomenon of self-hatred is related to individualism, and puts whites as genetical individualists.

If there is one thing that others and I have complained about MacDonald, it is that he analyses the West from the start of Christendom. Ancient Sparta and Republican Rome were not individualistic societies, and neither were the Vikings and Goths (and let’s not talk about Nazi Germany). MacDonald’s hypothesis collapses when we introduce the history before Christianity, and even more so when we see that open and shameless self-hatred began in 1945, as I haven’t tired of reiterating with the links in the article that the sticky post leads to.

Although MacDonald’s article is worth reading, there is universal blindness in racialists who comment on his article’s thread, both on his forum and Ron Unz’s site. Neither wants to see the havoc Christianity wreaked on the psyche of the Aryans.

When I lived in California in the 1980s, I was extremely surprised to discover the televangelists. One of them, Charles Stanley, said something before an audience of well-to-do white worshipers that I will never forget: ‘… because I deserve hell’. Obviously only his faith in Jesus could save him from everlasting torture, but the conviction with which he said that, and the expression of the faithful Aryans who listened to him, I have not been able to get out of my head.

Now that the Aryans are without their Jesus, insofar Christianity is in crisis, what remains has been malware of infinite guilt albeit in secular form. Several times I have pointed out that this is what Tom Sunic said, with milder words, in Hungary during that dinner at which the government (supposedly the most nationalist in Europe) put Richard Spencer in jail.

I don’t know how to reiterate it anymore, but the links in the sticky post contain the key to understanding this suicidal passion of the white man. It is unfortunate that very few are following me on this site. Let’s just compare the number of my followers, those fully aware of the CQ, with the number of neo-Christian whites who were fascinated by the Tweet of the pretty ethno-traitor.

What can save the white man from this suicidal drive which dwarfs the Jewish problem as in the image above? As I reiterated recently in one of the discussion threads: only an apocalyptic convergence of catastrophes! At the moment the only thing a desperate reader can do is trolling other racialist sites with, say, the essay on Judea versus Rome also linked in ‘The Iron Throne’.

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Pandemics Psychiatry Sigmund Freud

The human side of chess, 15

What to do in case of mental disorder

Surprising in such prolific chess literature as that of the United States is the absence of biographies that explain the mental disorders of their chess champions: Morphy and Fischer. I have complained about friends in the park who lacked the heart to inquire about the personal tragedies of Roger, Iván, Gilberto and Ricardo. For example, I don’t remember hearing anything pertinent about the scar that Gilberto wore on his face due to the blow of the dish thrown by his mother. But this is not limited to my acquaintances: it is endemic outside the chess field. In writing this essay, I tried to search the internet for biographical material on Morphy, Steinitz and Torre. I was surprised that the attitude of the authors of books and web pages was identical to that of friend Antonio, whose supposed friendship was ‘to talk exclusively about chess’.

A section from the fourth volume of Kasparov’s five-volume collection of his predecessors is an exception, in that it portrays Fischer through astonishing anecdotes. Although Fischer’s feat from 1970 to 1972 is admirable from a strictly sporting viewpoint, it’s impossible to read those pages without thinking that Fischer was, in his personal life, a poor devil. Do you know, my dear readers, someone who could have had fame, money and glory and throughout the years threw that opportunity away as Fischer did? It is worth reading Kasparov’s My Great Predecessors, Volume 4 and finding out what happened to poor Bobby after he triumphed over Boris. I am referring to the final pages that are already free of game analysis and focus, pace the friend Antonio, on the human side of chess; in this case, Fischer’s psychological profile. However, and like Reinfeld, Kasparov knew nothing about the morbidity of family dynamics that can flourish in the adult in the form of psychosis.

Not even psychiatrists know these things.

If mental health professionals, or American chess writers, were down to earth they would try to write psycho-biographical studies on Morphy and Fischer. But when it comes to psychological trauma, it is impossible to find an in-depth analysis of those who have suffered this type of crisis. In this aspect my work is innovative. It seems that I am the first person in history who has devoted more than a thousand pages to pondering the tragedy of his own family (see the titles of my books on page 3).

To the names of deranged chess masters I have mentioned I might add Pillsbury. And let’s not forget the alcoholism of Chigorin, Alekhine and Tal. Former world champion Tal and his buddy Korchnoi, who was on the verge of taking the title from Karpov in 1978, were badly beaten up in Cuba for being drunk. Once Alekhine showed up to a simultaneous exhibition so drunk that he wet himself on the floor and the show had to be suspended. The numerous chess magazines circulating in endless languages are as misleading as Velasco’s book on Torre. They focus on the sporty aspect omitting the real life of the pathetic players.

The total lack of knowledge of the human mind in both psychiatrists and chess players is evident in the sovereign folly of blaming Staunton, a retired player in his day, for Morphy’s madness. I find it regrettable that even Reinfeld repeats this like a parrot. Ironically, it was thanks to Reinfeld’s book that I learned that it was Morphy’s mother who forbade her son from playing in public places again, and the best player in the world obeyed like a child. Also the professional chess writers Horowitz and Rothenberg repeat the Staunton myth in The Personality of Chess, where they quote the incredibly stupid words of Ernest Jones, Freud’s disciple, that Morphy was burned out by success. Based on the Freudian axiom of exonerating the abusive father or mother, Jones blames Staunton, who Morphy never played with! His crazy theories appear in the essay ‘The Problem of Paul Morphy’ published in 1931: a classic in psychoanalytic literature on the chess player. In Mexico, a country where the refutation that has been made to the Vienna quack, Freud, is unknown, I have found the fans repeating Jones’ nonsense.

Thus I arrive at the central question: What to do in case of mental disorder of a loved one? What to do, for example, if he gets naked on the streets or surround himself with women’s shoes?

With psychiatry ruled out as an iatrogenic profession, the good news is that we have the humanitarian alternative of Soteria Houses in Europe.

Unlike the therapy applied to Torre, which impaired his faculties and left him resentful for life with Ferriz, entering the Soteria Houses is perfectly voluntary. In the United States, those precincts flourished thanks to public funds before Big Pharma lobbied for the subsidies to be withdrawn. (The multibillion-dollar companies that manufacture drugs don’t tolerate competition from their medical model for treating disorders of the spirit.) In the Soteria-type houses that exist in Europe, the dignity of those who suffer a crisis is not violated. Neither you will find treatments such as electroshock, surgical lobotomy or intellectual impairment practised by chemicals euphemistically called ‘antipsychotics’. No matter how serious their delusions are, the person is respected and a friendly environment is provided until, after some time of good treatment, they can regain their senses.

Generally, people who get disturbed are not dangerous. Steinitz believing in his telekinetic powers, Torre imitating St. Francis or Morphy declaiming on the roof ‘and the little king will walk away in shame’ were harmless. Had they lived for a few months in a Soteria House, similar to the quarters for the alienated of the 19th-century Quakers, they would have recovered. There are no Soteria houses in Mexico, although the last Robert Whitaker’s video that I’ve watched now that I review this book, ‘The Rising Non-Pharmaceutical Paradigm for Psychosis’, shows us that alternative in first world countries:

When I advanced the idea of renting in Mexico City an apartment to take care of a friend of Russian descent along with an assistant (a young man who was disturbed), his older brother’s response was to commit him to a repressive institution, where he died. It is sad to say: but psychiatric repression is originated from family repression (Morphy’s family, too, wanted to commit him). That flat would have been cheaper for our friend than the psychiatric fees he paid. But the deference in the West to the medical profession is too ingrained. I hope that the way the medical establishment behaved now that I review this book, with all that media cancellation of the effectiveness of ivermectin for the treatment of COVID-19 (to profit from Big Pharma vaccines), begins to wake up part of the population.

There are very few thinkers who have an exact idea of how the interests of pharmaceutical companies corrupt medical science. And this especially includes psychiatry. It was for this reason that I spent five years of my life, full time, researching the profession.

Categories
Autobiography Chess

The human side of chess, 13

Bobby Fischer had horrendous problems with his mother, who invited her Jewish friends from Brooklyn to her apartment; friends who in the eyes of the boy Fischer were but little buddies. Fischer confessed to the women who knew him intimately that, at the age of twelve, he resented the absence of his mother as a great betrayal, who had a greater preference for her little buddies than for the child Bobby. When Fischer achieved grandmaster status at sixteen, his mother left him and his sister to move with friends to Europe. The teenage Fischer never mourned for his parental losses (his father had abandoned him even earlier, since Fischer was two years old). He rather did the opposite: he threw himself on Caissa’s skirts with unequalled vehemence. Such was the vehemence with which he amalgamated his life with Caissa’s that she gave him the magnificent gift of defeating, singlehandedly, the Soviet chess school at the age of twenty-nine. But out of his early unresolved experiences, which some of us call the betrayal of love, emerged the adult Fischer’s anti-Semitism.

Fischer was never a reader of, say, a wise scholar about Jewry like Kevin MacDonald, who continues to write about the subversive way Jews have been behaving in the West. Fischer’s anti-Semitism was more rancid, and at times paranoid. Already exiled in Budapest, he told one of his interviewers: ‘Day and night the Jews persecute me’. He called Kasparov ‘the Wenstein Jew’ despite the fact that Fischer was ethnically Jewish by both parents. (As our society doesn’t allow the child to express feelings of anger towards his parents, once the child is grown these feelings are transferred.)

After conquering the sceptre Fischer fled the world, especially from the journalists who harassed him. In 1975, the year that all the fans longed to see him defend his title against Karpov, Fischer befriended Claudia Mokarow, an older woman whom he affectionately called mommy. When the journalists tracked him down Fischer ran to Claudia’s apartment yelling: ‘Mommy, mommy, they’re here! Help me mommy: they’ve found me!’ Obviously Bobby, considered by some to be the greatest player in history, needed a motherly surrogate for the mother he never had. He never grew up. Some journalists from whom Fischer fled saw symbolism in the fact that Fischer’s mother was called Regina (a Late Latin feminine name meaning ‘queen’) and that when he was a child she was treated precisely as queen by the community of Jewish buddies that Regina brought to her apartment. Fischer never opened one of his classic chess games with the move 1. d4, pawn to Queen four, as we said before the algebraic notation.

Alexander Alekhine (World
Champion from 1927 to 1946).

I had already mentioned that Alekhine took it out on his spouses. His acquaintances noted Alekhine’s strange submission to authority: the quintessential parental figure. He was married four times, always to women older than him. A writer that Reinfeld mentions comments that it seemed that Alekhine wanted to be taken care of, and Edward Lasker says that when Alekhine was twenty years old, in a club he preferred to dance with a woman twice his age and thickness even though there were fairer girls around. All of this suggests an unresolved problem with the mother, who taught the child how to move the pieces. The proof is that one of his wives was twenty years old and the other thirty! His friends teased him that she was Philidor’s wife, a mummy. The tall and handsome Alekhine, whose games, especially those of his youth, are among the most artistic in the kingdom of Caissa, needed a mother. But for being so cruel to his wives he died alone and as a refugee in Portugal, while in Europe a witch-hunt was perpetrated against those who had collaborated with the Third Reich. Reinfeld wrote: ‘My feeling is that Alekhine was an unusually timid man who was terrified all his life by a profound feeling of insecurity’. And a few pages later he adds:

From all accounts, Madame Alekhine’s affection and maternal solicitude meant a great deal to Alekhine in his later years and had a very beneficial influence on him. But what more convincing proof could there be of his timidity, his insecurity, his fear of facing the world? There may also be significance in the fact that Alekhine was taught chess by her mother; this may have created a powerful emotional bond between his need for chess and his constant need for a mother. When all these elements are added up, I think we have an irresistible weight of evidence for the view that Alekhine’s genius for chess had its origin in an unusually virulent form of insecurity.

When Alekhine took refuge in Portugal from the witch-hunt unleashed by the allied forces he was already completely alone. Two days before his death he told a Portuguese fan: ‘Lupi, this loneliness is killing me!’ Unlike the title of this book in Spanish, En Pos de un Rey Metafórico, for the English translation I chose The Human Side of Chess. And it is that the photograph of someone who had been an idol in my early teens died in a hotel in his days of maximum solitude in times when the allied forces perpetrated a true holocaust of Germans, portrays the side of the game that fans don’t dare to see.

Also the great North American champion of the 19th century had something hideous unresolved with the figure of his mother. Paul Morphy, a native of New Orleans, the city where Carlos Torre would later grow up, had a curious habit of forming women’s shoes in a semicircle ‘because he liked to look at them.’

During a period of his life he would go up to the roof of his house to declaim in French a paragraph that seems to be taken from a song, of which its last words are et le petit Roi s’en ira tout penaud: and the little king will walk away covered in shame. Morphy saw no one except his mother with whom he spent every afternoon, whom he obeyed even though he was already the best chess player in the world. Even when his mother found him dead in the bathtub, Morphy was surrounded by women’s shoes. Morphy defeated all the active grandmasters of his time, including Löwenthal, Anderssen and Paulsen; although the match I like the most was the one he beat Harrwitz in Paris, played a century before I was born. That match shows that Morphy had already found, since then, how to handle the semi-open and closed openings. But like Fischer, Morphy suffered from paranoia. He believed that his brother-in-law and his friend Binder were conspiring to poison him and destroy his clothes, and it is said that on one occasion he showed up at Binder’s office and attacked him. Let us never forget that, like Fischer, Morphy retired from chess at the height of his chess career.

Paul Morphy, who died at 47.

I have said that Fischer’s greatest pleasure was breaking the adversary’s ego. This reminds me of why I was attracted to chess as a boy. I remember a time when I told my parents that the best moment of my life was when my opponent lost his morale to my game. This memory may give me the key to penetrate Fischer’s mind. ‘Break the ego’ is an oblique resonance of how his mother broke Fischer’s ego as a child (and how my mother destroyed it through constant humiliations). When decades before I found out that Fischer had said similar things I said, I was referring to a problem not only with my mother but with my father. In sixth grade my female teacher once asked the question of what had been the happiest moment of the students. To the teacher’s fluster, I replied euphorically that the happiest moment was when I defeated my father in chess: whom I loved enormously but at the same time I had to refute. His vehement religious beliefs had hurt the sensitive child that I was, but my childish mind didn’t know how to refute them.

Some have said that chess is a game of schachmaty, of killing the father. Before I read the enlightened philosophers and freethinkers, chess was a perfect metaphorical substitute for going after the father. The same word ‘refutation’ was constantly used by the adolescent I was, although without arguments yet, when talking about what I wanted to do with my parents’ beliefs: put an end to them. But because we love our parents, the volcano of anger that many children, and adult children, feel towards them can only erupt with substitute objects: opponents whose ego we break as Fischer would say. However, such a transfer can produce a split personality, especially in those who spend their lives running away from themselves through gambling. As I said, I have heard of various fans, and other adults who have nothing to do with chess, who have been damaged by their abusive parents and have suffered psychotic breakdowns: like that funny crazy man who, according to Reuben Fine, believed that Botvinnik was the real leader of the Soviet Union. But that’s a distant case. I remember the late Ricardo Bravo, one of those who went to the park and who was known to have suffered hellish conditions at home. Ricardo crossed the line from mere psychological trauma to insanity and virtually committed suicide by abruptly crossing a busy avenue.

Categories
Aztecs Chess Friedrich Nietzsche St Francis

The human side of chess, 12

In case of mental disorder

‘First do no harm’.

—Hippocratic Oath

Carlos Torre Repetto undressed on a streetcar in 1926 on Fifth Avenue in New York. That happened during the crisis that eventually led him to quit chess. The immigration police deported him in a steamer to Merida. Gabriel Velasco, the author of the only well-written book about the Mexican grandmaster, omits these vital events about his life in his misnamed book The Life and Games of Carlos Torre. I know Velasco personally, but in the next few pages I will break the taboo of not writing about Torre’s life. What did the champions think of the Mexican GM? Alekhine wrote:

(Left, Carlos Torre.) Since 1914 the chess world has not seen a first-rate luminary, one of those players who, like Lasker and Capablanca, mark a milestone in contemporary history… But about six months ago, shortly after the New York Tournament, in the United States appeared a faint light susceptible—at least we hope so—of transforming into a star of the first magnitude. We are talking about the young Carlos Torre, who is nineteen years old and whose short career has peculiarities worthy of attention… Without a doubt, Torre is not mature, which should not be surprising in a young man who has so little serious practice, but we admire the solidity of his game as well as his brilliant tactical qualities that allow him to emerge safely from sometimes dangerous positions in which he finds himself due to lack of experience. After having examined a number of his games, we cannot but congratulate Dr Tarrasch on his resolve to invite him to the next tournament of international masters to be held in Baden-Baden.

Alekhine wrote these words in 1924. Just two years later, when he came within a shot of winning the 1926 Chicago Tournament, Torre had the New York crisis. It is worth saying that the only game that Torre played with Alekhine was a ‘grandmasters draw’ played precisely in the 1925 Baden-Baden tournament. Alekhine, who two years later would dethrone Capablanca, immediately accepted the premature draw proposition by Torre on move fourteen: a sign of the respect he had for the Mexican. That year, the Moscow International Tournament was also held, where Torre made a sensational start. He started out beating three strong masters, including Marshall. He then drew two games with Tartakower and Spielmann to obtain other resounding victories, one of them against Sämisch, with which he placed himself along with Bogoljubov, Rubinstein and Lasker leading the tournament. Lasker said: ‘These first steps by young Torre are undoubtedly the first steps of a future world champion’. One of the most famous games of that tournament was the one Torre played with Lasker himself, who had been world champion from 1894 until Capablanca dethroned him in 1921, four years before the Moscow Tournament. Lasker held the title of champion for twenty-seven years. This great champion had to face Torre in the twelfth round of the tournament and got to obtain a positional advantage in the opening: an opening that was baptised as Torre Attack because the Mexican master introduced it to the practice of masterful chess. But on move 25 something unexpected happened. Word spread in the tournament hall: ‘Torre has sacrificed his queen to Lasker!’, something that rarely happens in professional chess. When it happens it causes a sensation. Within minutes Torre and Lasker had fans around their board. That game, known as ‘The Mill’, carved the name of Torre in chess annals; among others, it deserved an extensive comment from Nimzowitsch in My System.

I have quoted what Alekhine and Lasker thought of Torre’s future. The other champion of the time was Capablanca; as I said, the only Latin American who has won the title of world chess champion. It is an irony that very few Mexicans, and Alfonso Ferriz is an honourable exception, openly say that Torre could have conquered it as well. Capablanca commented on Torre after the Moscow International Tournament: ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if this young man soon started to beat us all’. The only game between Capablanca and Torre was played in that tournament. Capablanca was then the world champion, and his virtuosity lay especially in his mastery and understanding of the end of the game: that is why his game with Torre has a special value. The Mexican played with such precision and ingenuity that he managed to tie a very difficult endgame with the champion. Averbach, the Russian pedagogue, chose this ending to illustrate the theory of positions in his book Comprehensive Chess Endings: Bishop vs. Knight. When analysing the ending one is left with the feeling that this game between Capablanca and Torre is beyond the comprehension of ordinary fans, and that only a chess professor like Averbach and others can decipher it. When he played with Torre, Capablanca was at the height of his abilities. His game with the other Latin American is a tribute to the classic style of both, and should be studied as a paradigm of the endgame of knight against ‘bad’ bishop.

Torre’s arch was like the myth of Phaeton. After Torre’s crisis at the age of twenty-one, which marks the end of his brilliant but fleeting career, he lived without a profession, in a petty way and depending on his family until the early 1950s. He worked for a time in a pharmacy helping his brother in Tamaulipas, but he didn’t make a career or have children. In 1955 Alfonso Ferriz brought him to the capital of Mexico and kept him in a ‘very cheap’ guest house, according to him. Both Ferriz and Alejandro Báez, generous chess lovers in Mexico, tried to help him. Ferriz employed him in a hardware store, but the sixty-four-square aesthete was overwhelmed by the clientele.

During my vacations from junior high to high school, I worked at the Bank of Mexico and over time I purchased chess books for my collection (when I came of age I got rid of all of them). After work at the Bank of Mexico in the centre of the great capital, I would visit El Metropolitano: a chess den that, like all dens, reminds me of the room where opium addicts tried to escape from reality. In that unlikely place I listened to the chess master Alejandro Báez. His talk wasn’t directed at the beardless ephebe I was, but at the fans Carlos Escondrillas, Raúl Ocampo and Benito Ramírez who frequented El Metropolitano. My presence at a distance in those talks in 1973 went unnoticed. But what stuck with me the most was that Báez pointed out Torre’s admiration for San Francisco: the saint who undressed in a public place as a protest against the humiliation that his father had inflicted on him. I deduced from Baez’s talk that imitating the Franciscan buffoonery frustrated Torre’s career.

Carlos Torre died in 1978. The Russian magazine Schachmaty published an account of the tournaments of the time when Torre had flourished, from 1920 to 1926. Although Torre was then fifth in the world behind Lasker, Capablanca, Alekhine and Vidmar, he was ahead of masters of the calibre of Nimzowitsch, Rubinstein, Bogoljubov and Reti. Note that this fifth place refers to the early years of Torre’s career. Would he have reached the top without his psychotic breakdown, imitating the man of Assisi? As I said, in the book that Velasco wrote about Torre the premature retirement of the master from Yucatán is taboo.

Some Mexican players wonder why if Chigorin, who was close to being a world champion, is considered the father of national chess in Russia, Mexican fans ignore Torre’s figure. One possible answer is that the stigma attached to the term ‘mentally ill’ is the most degrading thing we can imagine: more degrading even than having been in jail or having had a homosexual scandal in Victorian times. It is a subject buried in mystery, and the Criollo Velasco’s reluctance to touch on the subject perpetuates the darkness. Many grandmasters, and even world champions, have suffered nervous breakdowns. Although Steinitz is considered the first world champion, at the dawn of the 20th century he died in abject poverty. It is rumoured that he believed that he was in electrical communication with God, that he could give him a pawn advantage and, in addition, win him.

(Plaque in honour of Wilhelm Steinitz, World Champion from 1886 to 1894, in Prague’s Josefov district.) What causes insanity? Since it is prohibitive for today’s society to ponder the havoc that abusive parents wreak on the mind of the growing child to become an adult, a pseudoscience is tolerated in universities that, without any physical evidence, blames the body of the disturbed individual. This is such an important subject that I have written a dense treatise to unravel it. Here I will limit myself to mentioning some reflections that have to do with chess players.

One of the things that motivated me to write this little book is to settle the score with Carlos Torre’s biography. Unfortunately, there is no relevant biographical material on Torre to know exactly why he lost his sanity. The rumours of his supposed syphilis don’t convince me. Ferriz told me that his friends took him with whores in Moscow. But Torre was sane for the last eighteen years of his life. Had he had neurosyphilis his symptoms would have gone from bad to worse. Torre’s mystical deviations and his imitation of the man from Assisi suggest a psychogenic problem. Likewise, Torre’s nervousness, manifested in the film that captured him playing in Moscow, as well as his habit of smoking four daily packs of Delicados brand cigarettes, suggests a psychogenic problem.

The syphilitic hypothesis that Ferriz told me reminds me of some speculations about Nietzsche’s madness. The author of the Zarathustra suffered from psychosis for almost a dozen years until he died: a psychosis very different from Torre’s fleeting crisis. But as in Torre’s case, blaming a supposed venereal disease for Nietzsche’s disorder has been done so that his tragedy fits within the taboos of our culture.

The root of Nietzsche’s madness was not somatic. The ‘poisonous worms’, as Nietzsche called his mother and his sister in the original version of Ecce Homo (not the version censored by his sister), may have played a role. In The Lost Key Alice Miller suggests that the poisonous pedagogy applied to him by his mother and aunts as a child (his father died prematurely) would drive him mad as an adult. It is worth saying that Stefan Zweig’s splendid literary essay The Struggle Against the Daimon (Hölderlin, Kleist, Nietzsche) has also been translated into English and Spanish. As Nietzsche confesses to us in Ecce Homo, a kind of autobiography where his delusions of grandeur are already noticeable, his mother and sister were ‘the true abysmal thought’ of the philosopher in the face of the eternal return of the identical.

Nor is it convincing what Báez said: that Torre masturbated a lot. In the 19th century the myth that excessive masturbation among boys caused insanity became fashionable; and when old Báez said that Torre was a consummate onanist, I can’t help but remember that myth. Equally wrong is the story of Raúl Ocampo. Although Ocampo is one of the best connoisseurs of Mexican chess, Juan Obregón captured him on the tape recorder maintaining a bizarre theory: that a telegram sent to Torre by the Jews to inform him that his girlfriend was breaking up with him was the trick that triggered the crisis. When I interviewed Alfonso Ferriz, one of the few survivors who knew Torre, he couldn’t tell me anything substantial about the Yucatecan’s childhood and adolescence: the time when his mind was structured and the only thing that could provide us with the lost key to understand his mental state. But one of Ferriz’s anecdotes that most caught my attention was that Torre ‘had an almost mystical respect for women’. He called women las santitas (the holy little ones). ‘How is the little saint?’ was his question when referring to Ferriz’s wife.

I would like to talk a little more about Las Arboledas park. Although Fernando Pérez Melo fled home due to abuse and became destitute, I don’t know of anyone among the park fans who has held his father responsible. Society has been obsessed with not seeing the obvious. As the mother is the most deified figure in Mexico, why not start with her, breaking the taboo of the parental deity? Just as it caused a shock among the ancient Mexicans to see how the bearded people pulled from the pinnacles of the Great Pyramid of Tenochtitlan the effigy of the Coatlicue’s son during the fall of the Aztec capital, for us to mature the figure of the mother has to be defenestrated. When Humboldt visited Mexico, the New Spaniards unearthed the Coatlicue statue to show it to him. They didn’t understand this work of art and they buried it again.

When I speak with Mexicans, I realise that they continue to bury the symbols of those female figures and terrible archetypes that they don’t understand or don’t want to understand. For this reason, the ‘santitas’ that Torre spoke of—compare it with Nietzsche’s expression ‘poisonous worms’—continue to be an object of veneration in Mexico. However, and despite all this speculation of mine, there is no substantial information about Torre’s childhood. Ferriz says that Torre never spoke about his parents or his siblings. So, instead of speculating about his childhood, I will focus on the life of a chess player who died in more recent times and about whom a little more is known.

Categories
Child abuse

WN ∩ child abuse = Ø?

Let’s remember the Venn Diagrams that we were taught in school. Many people believe that the issue of the mistreatment of children by their parents has nothing to do with white preservation. In set theory, that claim could be visualised by saying that the circles of white nationalism (WN) and child abuse don’t share any area, that they form an empty subset (symbolically, WN ∩ child abuse = Ø).

But that isn’t true. Let’s also remember my old essay ‘A body-snatched Spaniard’. And now that I was reviewing Erectus Walks Amongst Us I noticed that in Chapter 33, ‘Re-Classifying the Left’, Richard Fuerle wrote (square brackets are mine):

Before leaving this chapter, let us address the important question of why so many whites are anti-white. It has not escaped notice that the most fervent of the white white-haters are not only on the left politically, but many are Marxist. When the working class did not rise up against the exploiting capitalists, as predicted by Marx, the Marxists ideologues of the Frankfort school (Frankfort, Germany, which moved to Columbia University in New York City when Hitler came to power) sought out other classes of exploited victims who could be induced to rebel against the hated establishment. They settled on women, homosexuals, and minorities. The [Jewish] Marxists have no real concern with these oppressed classes, but find them handy weapons for weakening white societies so that they can be more easily overthrown. Why so many whites eagerly embrace white-hating, however, remains to be explained.

If you have been reading this book, you know that egalitarianism is clearly false—populations are not genetically the same and that is obvious even to small children. To hold a view that so clearly conflicts with reality is surely psychopathological, i.e., these people are mentally ill. Nor is it a trivial illness, as it perverts their most important biological function—passing on their alleles. It is only because psychologists and psychiatrists are also mired in the same psychopathology that egalitarians [as I have said elsewhere, psychiatry is pseudoscientific] do not have their own special place in the Manual [the shrinks’ DSM].

I have written elsewhere on this subject, where I argue that the problem has its genesis in the inevitable conflicts that children have with their parents. If children decide that it is the parents who are wrong, unfair, even evil, they readily identify with those whom they see as similarly oppressed, urging them to overthrow the ruling class, i.e., initially their white parents but, by projection, all whites, including themselves. The parent’s justification for ruling over them, that there are biological classes, in this case, children and adults, must be refuted, hence fervently held egalitarianism, that there are no biological classes. Marxism, which promotes class warfare and hatred of those who have and rule (i.e., for children, their parents), is just an extension of this psychopathology. Unfortunately, the egalitarians will be with us forever unless children can be raised to see their parents as wise and loving guardians, not as arbitrarily frustrating obstacles.

Never mind what Fuerle later said in endnotes 25-27 (he was no expert on the subject). Although the subject is huge, only those who have read my Day of Wrath will know what I have in mind. Suffice it to say that while Christian ethics is the basic aetiology of the dark hour, in cases of abject self-hatred like the Antifas I could assure that they were devastated by their parents, and presently are transferring their wrath onto a scapegoat: their own race.

Categories
Human sacrifice

Mhysa

‘Mhysa’ is the third season finale of the American medieval epic fantasy television series Game of Thrones, and its 30th episode overall, originally aired on June 9, 2013 on HBO in the US.

Although I don’t like the character due to the sadistic feudal house he presides over, I always liked Roose Bolton’s gravitas. In these photos we see him the day after the Red Wedding while the servants clean up the pools of blood, in front of Lord Frey. But I was disgusted by the scenes of psychological torture of his bastard son Ramsay in another place, who had Theon’s penis cut off. Those scenes are an excess, completely unnecessary, although the Jews who film them love to throw that on us.

Even after the physical and mental torture of Theon, the anti-male messages continue. In the next scene Ramsay sends his penis to Theon’s father, the king of the Iron Islands, and warns him that he will send more pieces of Theon unless he takes his men out of the north. In private the father tells his daughter ‘The boy [Theon] is a fool’ and let’s remember how smart Yara is. But the inversion doesn’t end there. Yara takes the fastest ship in his father’s fleet and fifty of the best assassins on the Iron Islands to try to rescue what remains of Theon. The cinematic shots of Yara make the viewer see the masculinity of this brave woman when she sets sail.

In King’s Landing, Shae is one of the most repulsive women in the series. But only until this episode did we find out why. And here the fiction of Martin or the scriptwriters isn’t bad. They are certainly bad at describing King Joffrey as the king’s cruelty is inexplicable. But what happened to Shae is perfectly explainable from the trauma model of mental disorders, about which I have written a lot on this site.

Ever since Tyrion met Shae it struck me that she said that if he asked again about her parents she would take his eyes off. But only up to this episode the why is revealed.

Varys: ‘When did you come to this strange country?’

Shae: ‘When I was thirteen’.

Varys: ‘You were only a child’.

Shae: ‘I stopped being a child when I was nine. My mother made sure of that’.

Since Shae’s trade is prostitution it seems that her mother prostituted her from such an early age. (Anyone who wants to know how abusive parents are behind mental illness should read my Day of Wrath.)

Another unreal scene is Arya’s first killing in the series, which we see in the episode. The problem with these scenes is that even if Arya were a teenage boy, the scene would be just as unreal: pure Hollywood. I don’t even want to describe the details, or who she killed. The subsequent love-hate scene between Ygritte and Jon is also unreal: once again, pure Hollywood. Nor is it worth describing.

Although the Shae case is clarified from the realistic point of view of human psychology, the wickedness of the witch Melisandre is never clarified, who in this episode insists on sacrificing Gendry. In the real world we guess the psychological motivation of human sacrifice rituals, as I explain in my aforementioned book. But here we are with Martin’s fiction, where Davos helped Gendry escape.

The scene that ends the series, a Dany as a goddess among a huge crowd of non-whites, enthused the audience and even some white nationalists. But in reality those are bones that Jews drop to us from time to time to make us believe that there is some pro-white message in the series. Unlike these nationalists I didn’t like that final scene of the season, least of all the cheesy music they played.

Categories
Autobiography Beethoven

My father’s tale

I’ll be busy for a few days and won’t post articles until I finish a course. But I would like to leave these lines during my absence. The thing is, when reading Karlheinz Deschner’s chapter on Pope Gregory I came across this sentence:

Archbishop Maximus did public penance in July 599, prostrate after hours in a street and shouting: ‘I have sinned against God and blessed Gregory’.

The anecdote reminded me of a story that my father told me decades ago. A king had to humble himself for days at the doors of the pope’s residence because he feared for the salvation of his soul: begging the Vicar of Christ to forgive him (I think the pope’s name was Gregory). Finally the pope deigned to open the doors and forgive him. My father told me this with enthusiasm, in the sense that even the most powerful king had to humble himself before the headperson of the Roman Catholic Church. The lad I was didn’t like that story, but only much later did I begin to understand my father’s mind.

One of the milestones in understanding why he was so destructive to me was Silvano Arieti’s book that I have already talked about in Day of Wrath. In Father, the sixth book of my series of eleven I quote some passages from Arieti that astonished me and I’m going to explain them with my own examples. Think of the baby monkeys that are sold as pets, how they cling to the owner as if she were a mother (the instinct is hard-wired in the creature as it’s vital not to fall from the trees). The point is that some adults deal with childhood trauma like these young pets do with their owners: by desperately clinging to authoritarian figures.

Arieti mentions his patients who, to use my example, hung themselves like little apes onto substitute images of their parents: a church, a political party, and even their own spouse. In Father I analyse how, in repressing his childhood traumas, he clung to no less than three defensive mechanisms: religion, nationalism, and his wife. But we are talking about pathological levels of hanging onto the surrogate parent, like an ape who never grows. The example that comes to mind is a biographer of Mary Baker Eddy who recounted that one of her most faithful disciples declared that even if she had seen Mrs. Eddy commit a crime, she wouldn’t believe her own eyes!

That is the level of co-dependent subjugation my father wielded regarding his church, the nationalist myths of the country where he was raised, and his wife. So when in my adolescence my mother went crazy my father went crazy too: what in my books I’ve called the captive mind or folie à deux.

I am not going to explain here everything I said in my sixth book in Spanish. The English speaker can order a copy of my first book to get an idea (see Letter to mom Medusa on the sidebar). What I want to get to is that some insecure people tend to fall into a state of folie à deux not only with the wife, but with the church or political party to which they belong. Analogous cases of Eddy’s disciple are endemic, for example, when I try to argue with those who cannot conceive that Mesoamerican Indians ate their children despite the overwhelming evidence from the first ethnologist of the American continent.

Once the defence mechanism is established, for instance the nationalistic pride of some Mexicans, the subject is capable of the most irrational scepticism before the evidence for the simple fact that what he is doing is protecting a worldview, his ego or substitute parent. From this angle we can understand why even some Jew-wise racialists, as we saw in my post yesterday, don’t tolerate that one fails to honour the god of the Jews. That powerful archetype functions like a surrogate parent.

Arieti’s book is entitled Interpretation of Schizophrenia and, although it deals with psychiatric cases, as I read it I realised that it could apply equally to an enormous number of people who have never been diagnosed psychiatrically.

My father comes to mind. He was enthusiastic about the pious tale of the pope who made a king humble himself in Rome. Now many Americans, equally childish, desire a powerful father in the form of the State and are excited that the country of the First Amendment will soon repudiate that amendment. It doesn’t matter whether the defence mechanism is religious or political: the psychological need is the same. Just as Eddy’s disciple wouldn’t believe her eyes as Mrs. Eddy became a god-like figure, I have met people who deny the historicity of Lenin’s and Stalin’s crimes.

The drive that compels us—to quote the lyrics of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony—to believe in ‘a loving Father behind the starry vault’ means that Beethoven had a drunken father who, as a child, often beat him. We are mammals and, as the monkey of the anecdote, the unconscious need to have a surrogate father once our dad fails is infinite: a Christian attempt to heal childhood traumas. But it is deceptive magic because Yahweh is not our father, he’s our enemy.

Those who haven’t read my essay ‘God’, a page from one of my eleven books, could read it now.

Categories
Hate Mainstream media Racial right

Part of the problem

Tucker Carlson spoke last night. The charlatanism of the so-called white nationalists can be seen in a simple anecdote. Carlson’s monologue yesterday (see, e.g., the minute after this moment) has been one of the most powerful in MSM. I have often said that what the white race needs first is a baby-step: moving from happy mode to angry mode. And Carlson’s anger contrasts with the even tone of the articles that can be read these days in American Renaissance, The Occidental Observer, Counter-Currents and others. Not even in the recent podcasts of Richard Spencer can we listen any anger. How is that possible?

Basically, because people who had Christian parents in the United States (often Protestants) are prohibited from hating, or even uncovering the most legitimate emotions. As many of my visitors know, my specialty is not racial issues but the trauma model of mental disorders. And if there is one thing that follows from this model, it is that repressing our early traumas is what causes psychosis. It is true that when we were at the mercy of our abusive parents we could not explode our feelings. But if as adults we don’t report what they did to us, the result is a one-way ticket to any point among the entire range of dysfunctions that go from the simplest neurosis to the most serious psychoses.

There is no point in linking my recent posts about the situation in the US: the visitor can simply scroll down to read them. In short, it is unbelievable that a normie anchor like Carlson is already capable of handling the most elementary emotions while the racialists continue in that academic tone that is not going to lead the race to any revolution.

If you are white and your blood is not boiling over what is going on, then you are either asleep or part of the problem.

Categories
Chess Feminism Infanticide Mainstream media Metaphysics of race / sex

On Beth’s cute tits

Beth dancing to a degenerate piece of music
that was a hit when I was pubescent, with trophies
from all the chess tournaments she had won.

As a teenager I was a big fan of chess, and even in my early twenties I played daily in a park visited by middle-class chess players (I recount my adventures in Spanish: here).

The Queen’s Gambit is an American TV miniseries based on the 1983 novel of the same name by Walter Tevis, starring Anya Taylor-Joy in the role of Beth Harmon. It was directed by the Jew Scott Frank and the script was written by a gentile, Allan Scott. The Queen’s Gambit was released on Netflix last month and has now concluded.

The past few days I watched The Queen’s Gambit. From one of the first episodes, when Beth approaches the camera showing the shape of her beautiful boobs under her clothes, I realised the impossible chimera of this series that is causing a sensation in the world. But first of all I must speak a little about female tits in our species.

Decades ago, the biggest surprise I came across when reading The Naked Ape was discovering why men crave women. If we consider the shape of a baby bottle for milk, that is exactly the shape female teats would have if the objective were purely functional for baby sucking. But women’s breasts are completely different. Zoologist Desmond Morris, the author of The Naked Ape, explains the phenomenon of ‘self-mimicry’ in other species of apes. In these species, natural selection favours females to imitate their buttocks with their coloured breasts, in order to shift the aggression of the males to a more erotic channelling.

I was shocked to discover that my own species is a more aesthetic version of the same phenomenon of self-mimicry! But that is exactly what it is when we see the ape we are with a naked eye: the needs of the baby are secondary to the trick that Nature does to us so that we impregnate our females. Nature makes them absolutely irresistible to our instincts in order for the human species to breed.

But our species is also governed by the concept of the trade-off, and I will have no choice but to speak scientifically for a few paragraphs.

Why can’t there be a species that is a mix between a super-poisonous bug and a winged, big, beautiful and highly intelligent creature? In a fantastic world just imagine what power such a creature would have. In my science course at the Open University I learned about the concept of a trade-off between one aspect of an organism’s biology and another. A trade-off is a situation where, to gain some advantage, an organism has to pay a price: to compromise. In our species big brains are a good example. Our huge frontal lobes are certainly nice to have but they are costly in terms of the energy they use up, and make childbirth extremely difficult.

As explained in my Day of Wrath (see sidebar), this is the main cause of massive infanticide of babies in past history. Extremely immature babies are bothersome. A unique feature of the human race—prolonged childhood with consequent long dependence on adults—is the basis for the psychodynamics of mental disorders. The long childhood of Homo sapiens lends itself to parents abusing their young. After all, premature birth was Nature’s solution to the trade-off of bipedalism and the limitations of the pelvis of hominid females in our simian ancestors. (If Homo sapiens weren’t born so immature, we would have to stay within our mothers’ bodies for about 20 months.) The ‘long childhood’ lays a solid foundation for understanding the abuses committed by parents in our species and, therefore, the mental disorders suffered by the progeny. But that’s the price we have paid for our big brains!

Body size is another example of trade-offs. In the animal kingdom being big gives you some advantages against predators but it also means you need more food. Being small means that you don’t need much food but it makes it easier for another animal to hunt you. That species can’t gain an advantage without having to pay a price means that there will be many ways to survive and prosper: and explains why there is so rich diversity in the animal kingdom.

In my Open University course I had to answer this question: Why a bird with a complete set of the five potentially very successful traits (a species of bird whose individuals lived a long time, reproduced repeatedly and at high frequency, and with large clutch sizes) doesn’t exist? The answer is because of trade-offs. A bird that produces large clutches cannot reproduce frequently because the production of each clutch requires a lot of resources. Also, large clutches require more looking after because in due course there are more mouths to feed. Large clutches are therefore likely to suffer higher mortality than small clutches while adults are absent from the nest.

The same applies to the surreal example of the impossible chimera I imagined above. Having assimilated the concept of trade-offs, let’s now remember old Schopenhauer:

at the expense of the whole remainder of her life, so that during these years she may so capture the imagination of a man that he is carried away into undertaking to support her honourably in some form or another for the rest of his life, a step he would seem hardly likely to take for purely rational considerations. Thus nature has equipped women, as it has all its creatures, with the tools and weapons she needs for securing her existence, and at just the time she needs them; in doing which nature has acted with its usual economy [my emphasis—a trade-off].

The media lie is equivalent to ‘filming’ those flying and poisonous bugs which, in turn, are smart as humans: impossible chimeras.

In previous years I insisted a lot on how the most popular series of all time, Game of Thrones, made us see several female characters as brave warriors: something that never existed in the Middle Ages or in old-time chivalric novels (Brienne of Tarth, Yara Greyjoy, the wildling Ygritte, the masculinised female warriors at Dorne) or queens without a king to control them (Daenerys Targaryen and Cersei Lannister). Worst of all was that a girl (Arya Stark) killed the bad guy of the series, the Night King, in what I consider to be the climax of the whole series (Theon Greyjoy should have killed the Night King). In real medieval times, and in chivalric novels, all these women would have been similar to Lady Sansa, the only character who played a feminine role in most of the seasons of Game of Thrones (except for the end of seasons 6 and 8).

The goal of Hollywood and TV is to brainwash us by reversing sex roles to exterminate the white race. And it is a disgrace that even the greatest white nationalist novelist of the 21st century, the late Harold Covington, fell for this feminism in his most voluminous novel (see ‘Freedom’s Daughters’ in my Daybreak).

HBO produced Game of Thrones. Netflix has produced The Queen’s Gambit. HBO wanted us to believe that women can compete with men, and even surpass them, in matters of what used to be called the knight-errant. (Remember how Brienne of Tarth beat the very tough Hound in the last episode of the fourth season of Game of Thrones.) Now Netflix wants us to believe that in matters of the intellect a woman, Beth Harmon, can beat the toughest chess players and even the very world champion (Vasily Borgov in the TV series: Beth’s strongest competitor).

Some people in the media are publishing articles with titles such as ‘Is The Queen’s Gambit a true story?’ They claim that the series was inspired by the woman who has reached the highest when competing in chess tournaments: the Hungarian Judit Polgar, now retired from the competition although she continues to comment on professional chess games. But Polgar’s life was quite different from the fictional Beth Harmon whose photo appears at the top of this entry. It is true that in real life Polgar once beat the world champion of chess, Garry Kasparov. But what the Netflix series omit is the score of all their confrontations. In real life, Kasparov beat Judit Polgar 12 to 1, with 4 draws!

It seems important to me to present the scores of the best female chess player in history, Polgar, in her games against the male world champions (to date, no woman has been crowned world champion of chess). The source for the list below is Chess Life:

Kasparov – Polgar: 12-1
Carlsen – Polgar: 10-1
Anand – Polgar: 28-10
Karpov – Polgar: 20-14
Topalov – Pogar: 16-15
Kramnik – Polgar: 23-1

As we can see, Polgar is at a disadvantage against all of her contemporary world champions. The only world champion with whom she maintained an almost even score was Topalov. Her score against Karpov was not bad, and although her disadvantage against Anand is wide, her results are noteworthy. But against Kasparov, Carlsen and especially against Kramnik, Polgar took real beatings.

These are the pure and hard facts of real life that more HBO or Netflix feminist series won’t change. They want us to believe that women are interchangeable with us in matters of physical activity and, now, intellectual sports!

Nature has endowed the woman with feminine charms so that a man may impregnate her thanks to her inviting tits, and support her for the rest of her life. Nature didn’t give her muscles or brain-power equal to the man. We have more cranial capacity than women. Anyone who hasn’t read pages 99-116 of On Beth’s Cute Tits should read them now. It is the best way to understand not only our sexuality but also the sexuality of the fair sex.

Beautiful tits that enchant us cannot go in the body that houses, at the same time, a superior brain of those whom her tits seduce: an elemental trade-off.

Postscript of 2021: Desmond Morris’ exact quote appears in the first indented paragraph: here.

Categories
Child abuse Hojas Susurrantes (book) Psychiatry

Nobody wanted to listen, 10

The pathetic survivors

Finally, I can be told that since the mental health professions are inherently corrupt, I shouldn’t have considered even anti-psychiatrists but only survivor groups. Common sense tells us that, unlike the professionals who are part of the system, in self-help groups we will find the much sought after help. But let’s remember what happened with those filmmakers when I said that the Alcoholics Anonymous therapies were skin deep because they omitted the issue of parental abuse. This omission is endemic in self-help groups and even in less superficial associations than AA and its countless imitations of the twelve steps. For example, in the texts that are circulated in a group called Co-counselling I was stunned by the absolute omission of the role that parents play in the emotional problems of their children. Nothing is more alien from the ideology of this group than to fight for the legislative milestones of those countries that have prohibited corporal punishment of children. And exactly the same can be said for any other self-help group. Needless to say, not attacking the root cause is, as I told the AA believer who went mad at me, an epidermal remedy.

Laing was a philosopher of disturbed minds. But philosophical sophistication often serves as a smokescreen to hide the mistakes of a thinker. In psychiatric survivor circles it is common to hear that Robert Whitaker’s Mad in America, published in 2001, is considered the most educational book against psychiatry ever written. Whitaker definitely gets off the philosophical tower of Foucault, Szasz, and Laing. But in his book, Whitaker doesn’t say a word about whether parents could be the agents of trauma. Mad in America’s deficiency was exposed when a guest in the guest house I lived in, read some passages from the book in my library and came across a favourite Whitaker quote among psychiatrists themselves: ‘Little is known about what causes schizophrenia’. My friend repeated this psychiatric slogan, omitting my footnote: ‘It bothers me that, after quoting Modrow, Whitaker didn’t want to see that the cause of the insanity has been known for decades’. And that’s the ‘best critical book’ on psychiatry, written not by a mental health professional but by an acclaimed journalist.

A word now about the most structured organisation of survivors of psychiatry: Mind Freedom International, which has invited Whitaker to its events (I don’t take into account the activism of the Church of Scientology against psychiatry because it’s mixed with Scientology quackery). This organisation publishes a magazine that bears the same name, Mind Freedom. In its winter 2002 issue, which features a photograph of Breggin on the cover, the magazine listed dozens of books critical of the psychiatric profession. But in the review of Modrow’s book it omitted to mention his central thesis: extremely abusive parents can cause ‘schizophrenia’ in the child. What has Modrow opined about such omission? It is pertinent to point out that, although I have consulted the Mind Freedom page many times, I have never come across a phrase that affirms that parental abuse may be involved in the child’s crisis. This is surprising when you consider that David Oaks, the director of the organisation, had a psychotic breakdown when he was in his twenties; and it is also surprising because a grassroots movement like Mind Freedom doesn’t have to comply with the political correctness of the most academic authors (the contributors to Simon’s journal for example). When I confronted Oaks about this omission, like Breggin he hid behind a wall of silence.

I must say that one of the aspects of Mind Freedom that caught my attention is its insistence on speaking of insanity as something to be proud of: similar to, say, the sexual identity advocated in the so-called gay movement. In fact, from the correspondence he sends me, I realised that Oaks is very interested in having the idea of ‘Mad Pride’ promulgated, including parades, imitating those of ‘Gay Pride’. This is a grotesque idealisation: we can already imagine Modrow feeling proud in 1960 because he was John the Baptist! With honourable exceptions the survivors of psychiatry, including those who demonstrate on the street, appear pathetic. In some internet reviews I recommended books by Szasz, Simon’s journal that Breggin originally created, Whitaker’s Mad in America, and Mind Freedom’s web page. Now I’m not so sure of the wisdom of these recommendations. None of them have dared to see the most terrible event in life: the maddening panic of a child assaulted at home. It is a splendid irony that, like their psychiatric foes, parental toxicity is a taboo subject for many anti-psychiatrists.

In How to Murder Your Child’s Soul I tried to cut a weed at ground level. But the extirpation that I do here reaches a root untouched in my previous book. In our culture it is strictly forbidden to get to the root of evil in the world. Breggin has written that we have to wait for the moment when critics of psychiatry are able to galvanise public opinion. He doesn’t realise that for that moment to come, Miller’s revolution in psychology must first be consolidated. Psychiatry doesn’t re-victimise children who are beaten at home by accident. It does it out of necessity. It is just one of the most recent institutions of an ancient social heritage that recreates evil in each generation. Psychiatry is part of an ancient cultural fabric: from the biblical ‘wise’ Solomon who advises beating the child, to the ‘educator’ Jean-Jacques Rousseau who abandoned his babies in an orphanage. Laing himself abused his family terribly. What people like Breggin don’t want to understand is that it is impossible to convince society of the falsehood of psychiatry if his editors don’t even tolerate the word ‘trauma’ in the manuscripts that come to them. Some of that trauma can be glimpsed in the TV talk show subculture with all the simplicity and vulgarity that these shows represent. But there is no chair in any university in the world that formally addresses the subject.

This is the most astonishing fact that I have come across in Alice Miller’s work.