>Theodore Kaczynski, The Unabomber – Part Nine

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When finally caught, Theodore Kaczynski was at once dismissed as a nutcase. People said ”He killed because he was insane”, rather than asking themselves ”Why did someone so like me commit murder?”
And so, the man who media at first portrayed as a genius and then a hermit was now dubbed a nut. There was nothing more to explore. The man was a freak. Case closed. And then silence.

As for the proceedings in court, Kaczynski’s lawyers and family worked hard for the court to declare Ted mentally insane to save him from the death penalty. His family gave interviews to all the major newspapers and television shows, saying that Ted had been mentally ill since childhood. Their campaign was very effective. The only problem was that Ted himself constantly would object to the whole insanity thing. ”David knows very well that I would unhesitatingly choose death over incarceration”, he writes in his book Truth Versus Lies. Ted would rather die for his ideas than being humiliated in court, being labelled insane. He valued his ideology more than his own life.
Ted asked his lawyers for them to send for his test results that he recieved during his years at Harvard, when he was participating in Professor Murray’s psychological experiments. They would prove he was clearly not insane at the time. His lawyers didn’t put much work into it, and they did so for a reason: it would ruin their case. They were well known for being respectable and reliable and they had worked on this ”mentally defect” line for so long it would ruin their reputation if the old test results would show what Kaczynski claimed – that he was perfectly normal.
In fact, the defense attorneys refused to let Kaczynski meet with psychiatrists, fearing they would not come to the ”correct” conclusions. They said their client had a ”pathological dread of examination by psychiatrists”, which was very far from the truth. One professor of psychiatry, Phillip J. Resnick, was not convinced that Kaczynski suffered from a mental disease, the writings of the Unabomber did not show this at all. While media, the defense attorneys and the Kaczynski family cemented the belief that celibacy, primitivism and that kind of lifestyle and ideas were signs of mental illness, Kaczynski rationally concluded that if he was labelled mentally ill his political agenda would be denigrated and he could not sit back and accept that. Resnick wrote several letters to the court asking for Kaczynski to be examined by a psychiatrist, without success.
At the same time the story about Murray’s experiments in the 60’s surfaced in the press, and people immediately assumed that he had suffered from mental illness since he had been psychologically examined back then. But nobody knew exactly what had happened at Harvard, not even the family. It was all rumours and media kept the real significance of the Harvard data in the dark, letting the rumours grow.

It was not until February 1998, when it was too late to make a difference, that Kaczynski managed to persuade his attorneys to send his answers from these psychological tests, along with the answers of the twenty-one other study objects, to a psychological testing expert. Because the individuals who took these tests were identified only by code names the expert could conduct a blind evaluation measuring the answers without knowing who had given them.
The expert, Berthram Karon, found that on a scale of 0 to 10, with 0 a complete abscense of illness and 10 the highest degree of illness, Kaczynski scored 0 for ”Schizotopy” and 2 for ”Psychopathy”. In other words, Kaczynski was perfectly normal.

After much delay and stalling from Ted’s attorneys the court finally sent for psychiatrist Sally Johnson to examine Kaczynski. She spent ten days interviewing him and reading his writings. She concluded that he was competent to stand trial and represent himself, which was exactly what he wanted. She wrote that ”he does no show evidence of overt disorganization or psychotic symptomology”, and does not show ”evidence of a mood disorder, obvious thought disorder, intellectual dysfunction”. But – and this is the weak threads on which they hung a diagnosis of mental illness – he is ”introverted, shy, and socially insecure”, and he believes ”the system as it exists is bad and rebellion against it is justified”, and that ”freedom and personal dignity have greater importance than comfort and security”. She saw it equally symptomatic that he ”feels compelled to live a life of extreme isolation and to focus his energy against all aspects of society that are attempting to control the masses.”
Media immediately hailed the report as proving Kaczynski insane.

Only three days after Johnson delivered her report to the court the trial was on. The judge – to everyone’s astonishment – denied Kaczynski’s request for self-representation, even though the report clearly stated that he’d be able to represent himself in court. What the hell happened?
The only explanation the court could provide was delay: Kaczynski had waited too long to invoke his right to self-representation. It was obvious that this cheap judge wanted a quick trial so he could go on with his life.

Facing a humiliating trial in which his attorneys would portray him as insane and his philosophy as the ravings of a mad man, Kaczynski capitulated: In exchange for the government’s agreement not to seek the death penalty, he pleaded guilty to thirteen bombings that killed three men and seriously injured two others, and took responsibility for sixteen bombings from 1978 to 1995.
On May 4, 1998, Kaczynski was sentenced to life in prison without possibility of parole.

>Spengler: The morale of dawning "civilization"

>This is a continuation of the quote in the previous post.

The Decline of The West, Chapter IX
Soul-Image and Life-Feeling: Buddhism, Stoicism, Socialism
The morale of dawning “civilization”

When Nietzsche wrote down the phrase ”transvaluation of all values” for the first time, the spiritual movement of the centuries in which we are living found at last its formula. Transvaluation of all values is the most fundamental character of every civilization. For it is the beginning of a Civilization that it remoulds all the forms of the Culture that went before, understands them otherwise, practices them in a different way. It begets no more, but only reinterprets, and herein lies the negativeness common to all periods of this character. […]
There was an Egyptian or an Arabian or a Chinese desouling of the human being, just as there is a Western. This is a matter not of mere political and economic, nor even of religious and artistic, transformations, nor of any tangible or factual change whatsoever, but of the condition of a soul after it has actualized its possibilities in full.
Culture and Civilization – the living body of a soul and the mummy of it. For Western existence the distinction lies at about the year 1800 – on the one side of that frontier life in fullness and sureness of itself, formed by growth from within, in one great uninterrupted evolution from Gothic childhood to Goethe and Napoleon, and on the other the autumnal, artificial, rootless life of our great cities, under forms fashioned by the intellect. Culture-man lives inwards, Civilization-man outwards in space and amongst bodies and ”facts”. […]
Only the sick man feels his limbs. When men construct an unmetaphysical religion in opposition to cults and dogmas; when a ”natural law” is set up against historical law; when, in art, styles are invented in place of the style that can no longer be borne or mastered; when men concieve of the State as an ”order of society” which not only can but must be altered – then it is evident that something has definitely broken down. […]
As soon as Life is fatigued, as soon as man is put on to the artifical soil of great cities – which are intellectual worlds to themselves – and needs a theory in which suitably to present Life to himself, morale turns into a problem. […] One feels that there is something artifical, soulless, half-true in these considered systems that fill the first centuries of all the Civilizations. They are not those profound and almost unearthly creations that are worthy to rank with the great arts. All metaphysic of the high style, all pure intuition, vanishes before the one need that has suddenly made itself felt, the need of a practical morale for the governance of a Life that can no longer govern itself.

>Spengler: Morale as a life-feeling

>I’ve started to read Oswald Spengler again, one of the most interesting minds I’ve ever encountered, and right now I’m working on an article about Man and Technics (1931). In the meantime I’ll publish some quotes from the abridged edition of The Decline of The West (1918/1923).

For a better understanding of these quotes (that is if you’re not familiar with Spengler, his definitions of Culture and Civilization, the Faustian soul and so forth) I recommend you read the previous posts first:
Oswald Spengler – The Decline of Cultures
Här finns inget varaktigt och allmängiltigt (Swedish)
Is world peace possible?

The Decline of The West, Chapter IX
Soul-Image and Life-Feeling: Buddhism, Stoicism, Socialism

Western mankind, without exception, is under the influence of an immense optical illusion. Everyone demands something of the rest. We say ”thou shalt” in the conviction that so-and-so in fact will, can and must be changed or fashioned or arranged conformably to the order, and our belief both in the efficacy of, and in our title to give, such orders are unshakable. That, and nothing short of it, is, for us, morale. In the ethics of the West everything is direction, claim to power, will to affect the distant. […] You ”shall”, the State ”shall”, society ”shall” – this form of morale is to us self-evident; it represents the only real meaning that we can attach to the word. But it was not so in the Classical, or in India, or in China. Buddha, for instance, gives a pattern to take or to leave, and Epicurus offers counsel. Both undeniably are forms of high morale, and neither contains the will-element.
What we have entirely failed to observe is the peculiarity of moral dynamic. If we allow that Socialism (in the ethical, not the economic, sense) is that world-feeling which seeks to carry out its own views on behalf of all, then we are all without exception, willingly or no, wittlingly or no, Socialists. […]
It is quite wrong to associate Christianity with the morale imperative. It was not Christianity that transformed Faustian man, but Faustian man who transformed Christianity – and he not only made it a new religion but also gave it a new moral direction. The ”it” became the ”I”, the passion-charged centre of the world, the foundation of the great Sacrament of personal contrition. Will-to-power even in ethics, the passionate striving to set up a proper morale as a universal truth, and to enforce it upon humanity, to reinterpret or overcome or destroy everything otherwise constituted – nothing is more characteristically our own than this is. […]
There are as many morales as there are Cultures, no more and no fewer. Just as every painter and every musician has something in him which, by force of inward necessity, never emerges into consciousness but dominates a priori the form-language of his work and differentiates that work from the work of every other Culture, so every conception of Life held by a Culture-man possesses a priori (in the very strictest Kantian sense of the phrase) a constitution that is deeper than all momentary judgements and strivings and impresses the style of these with the hallmark of the particular Culture. […]
Each Culture possesses its own standards, the validity of which begins and ends with it. There is no general morale of humanity. A morale, like a sculpture, a music, a painting-art, is a self-contained form-world expressing a life-feeling; it is a datum, fundamentally unalterable, an inward necessity.

…to be continued.

>Obama + Clinton = Change?

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Ok, so Hillary Rodham Clinton, Obama’s primary rival, is now the secretary of State. Now, why would Obama, a man who ran a campaign based on a new kind of politics that was an implicit rejection of the Clinton years, choose a potent symbol of those years as his chief diplomat? You digest that for a second.
This clearly is yet another soap-opera starring corrupt politicians. It should be obvious to everybody except for the truly naïve who always fail to see through the political fakery (for example, Swedish “blog stars” who usually write columns about fashion or casual crap wrote how they cried when Obama made his victory speech…).

Mike Whitney says it much better than me in his article The Obama “Dream Team”, where he explains what it’s pretty much all about:

The truth is, Obama was shoehorned into the White House because the ruling elite saw that the country was slipping into a consumer-led depression. They needed a bright new face to restore confidence and spark optimism during the tough times ahead. But now that he’s been elected, they’ve surrounded him with the very men who, to great extent, created the present crisis.

Do read the full article!

Like I said before, it’s a huge step having a black man in the White House, but it won’t make that difference a lot of people seem to hope for. No change. Not for the one’s that need it anyway.
I’d like to quote the amazing Swedish poet Bruno K. Öijer here:

Men imponerad skulle jag först bli den dag när en homosexuell indian väljs till president i USA.

(When a homosexual American Indian is elected as President of the United States, that’s when I’d be impressed.)

>Music that matters: Brainbombs

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I’ve been a fan for quite some years now, and I still get damned scared and mentally disturbed when I put on a Brainbombs album. Not to forget: I get totally mesmerized. I think it’s that combination, that enchanting horror, which constantly draws me closer to Brainbombs.
Because this is some seriously weird shit, I tell you.

The music consists of the totally degenerated sounds of guitars being thrashed to death, decibel destruction galore, with absolute deadly distortion, pacing back and forth, in and out of context. The vibe is that of a smelly toilet clogged with piles and piles of sick porno mags drenched in old sperm and vomit, chunks of dissolving human flesh on heroin spoons and insane screaming old men in pain gnawing their dirty long nails on the blood-splattered walls. Only you cannot hear the screams. Sometimes you hear a trumpet. Something like that. Truly negative vibes. The drums get a hold of your heartbeat and then slowly drain all life. The monotony is forever. Out of this thick dirt wall of noise rock guitars and hammersmashed drums and everyday darkness comes the voice of the real Satan, proclaiming in a moderate tone – without power, without soul, with slight retardation – the most vicious poetry put on tape. Peter Sotos would have been proud. The artwork adds to the delirium – sometimes clean as a newborn baby cunt, sometimes soiled with the filth of adults. I’m sorry I wrote that cunt thing. Brainbombs made me do it. Sotos made Brainbombs do it. Humanity made Sotos do it.

But in the end it’s only rock’n’roll. The very core of Brainbombs is that noise-drenched riff. Simple. Pure. Genuine. Complete. They put it best: Genius and brutality. Taste and power. Whatever that means?
I guess it means what you make of it. Because when listening to Brainbombs, sooner or later you’ll have to ask yourself: Why am I listening to this? The lyrics are about raping and killing prostitutes and children, they are about torture, sodomy, murder – all written in a descriptive realistic way, not at all funny, never humorous but just really disgusting and frightening, exploiting in detail the darkest side of humanity. Why are we listening to this? Why are their lyrics like that?
To me, it’s that enchanting horror again. To me, real culture should make an everlasting impression. Brainbombs achieve that – only they do it in a dirty, negative way. Who said art should be beautiful?

Two members of Brainbombs were also members of the band Totalitär, a band which is very popular amongst the crust-, hardcore- and punk PC-militia. I wonder if Brainbombs is accepted by these people because of the Totalitär connection? Maybe the Totalitär fans aren’t even aware of Brainbombs? It’d be interesting to hear them out. Next time I see a patched up punk I will ask.

Four years ago I wrote some notes about Brainbombs in the paper edition of Ny Moral #1. It went a little something like this:

Jag har ingen aning om hur snubbarna i Brainbombs ser ut. Bara det gör att de är ett av Sveriges främsta band – på en hel mängd plan och utan att överdriva det minsta.
Den här fixeringen vid hur ett band ska se ut gör mig så jävla förbannad… Ni kan pierca era näsor, tatuera era arslen och brännmärka era fontaneller tills ni ser ut som jävla julgranar, men gör ni inte bra musik hör ni inte hemma någonstans. Överflödig, andefattig musik är det värsta jag vet.
Efter att ha slukat en stor mängd Brainbombs-låtar (jag har lagt in allt de gjort i en fet Winamp-playlist) känns det som alla andra så kallade rockband kan dra åt helvete relativt omgående. Dock har det varit en svår process att få in Brainbombs i min lilla svartskalle.
Fascinationen för de morbida texterna och den så rått fragmentariska grafiken har funnits där sedan dag ett, likaså beundran för den totalt hängivna sången. Den sterila, men ändå livs levande, produktionen icke att förglömma eller förakta. Det är själva musiken som har varit svår. Och den förbannade trumpeten.
Jag tror det var under en feberknäpp en sen aprilnatt som allt föll på plats. Nästintill livlös och svettandes under dubbla täcken malde jag Brainbombs låtkavalkad nonstop i säkert sex timmar. Läsandes texter som ”I detta satans rum ligger någon på en bädd av blod och skriker”, ”I kill Anne Frank, open her like a butcher”, ”You’re a sexy bitch, but you stink” och ”Sixteen years old, fucks like a whore” så föddes min fascination.
Har upptäckt att Brainbombs funkar bäst under sjukdom.
Att texterna är svinigt influerade av Peter Sotos är lätt att se. Att de maler likt mantran gör det än mer fascinerande. Det här är inga ord som göms bakom poetiska dimridåer. Det här är ord som får en att rygga tillbaka med skräckblandad förtjusning. De psykotiska meningarna som avlöser varandra har någon slags mystisk dragningskraft. Genius and brutality. Men med tanke på att folket i Brainbombs härstammar från Hudiksvall och verkat i Uppsala kanske texterna känns mer relevanta om man främst sätter dem i ett amerikanskt perspektiv. Det är som sagt Sotos som inspirerat.
Hur beskriva musiken? Trasiga gitarrer, taktfasta komp, långa, monotona stycken, sällan mer än två riff per låt. Även på låg volym är det ganska störigt, och trots de få ingredienserna kan det säkert uppfattas som stökigt. Sången pratsjungs med en stel, högtravande röst som trots det rymmer en jävla känsla och kyla. Att höra Peter sjunga ”Starting to masturbate, into the child’s face” är en ondskefull upplevelse, och man är nog smått sjuk på riktigt om man inte någon gång under färdens gång frågar sig vad fan det är man lyssnar på. Cannibal Corpse må skriva liknande lyrik, men Brainbombs känns allvarligare än så.
Det som kan störa transen man försätts i efter idogt lyssnande är den satans trumpeten. Den poppar upp och väcker en från dåsigheten. Inte bra. Men kanske nödvändig ändå. Måhända fungerar den i alarmistiskt syfte.
Ett gäng släpp har dessa fyra herrar bakom sig, och mer tycks komma. Mycket av det de gjort är dock samlingar där samma låtar återkommer gång efter annan, och sådant hatar jag. Samlare som man är så tvingas man punga ut med pengar för porr man egentligen inte behöver. Så funkar materialismen, men i fallet Brainbombs känns det viktigt på något löjligt vis. Dyrkan kan anta skrämmande proportioner.
Den ultimata (och enda?) Brainbombs-siten, Genius and Brutality – Taste and Power, hittas här: http://anka.dyndns.org/brainbombs/
Idioter som tycker att Tomas Ledins Sommaren är kort är bra har givetvis ingenting att hämta i detta helvete. Ni kan ta era studentlägereldsspexiga låtar och era löjliga rättstämda guror och dra till ett annat hades.

Brainbombs are very much alive and kicking. They debuted with the songs I detta satans rum and Psychout kid on a compilation tape 22 years ago. 22 hours ago I got their brand new LP, Fucking mess, and it slays as always. They are like 44 years old and they slay yo mama. On December 12 they play live in Paris.

Check out Skinned alive from the new album. And then read and worship on the ultimate Brainbombs site.

by Mattias Indy Pettersson