Vester Flanagan’s muttered “bitch” was caught as he filmed himself shooting his former colleague Alison Parker in the heart. Flanagan was not only a murderer enacting a long-nurtured revenge fantasy kindled by a lifetime of perceived humiliation, he was also a film director, actor and soon-to-be grotesque celebrity.
Day-to-day, the extent to which we are conscious of our own self fluctuates. Absorbed in work, game or happy conversation, we are largely unselfconscious. But from time to time, my view of myself – me – enters my consciousness, usually when something out of the ordinary, challenging or threatening happens, like the boss telling me I am not performing.
Vester Flanagan’s life was one big encounter with such threat, arising out of an inflated ego trying to cope with the reality of failure in relationships and jobs. This chronic, gnawing discrepancy between his ideal and actual self meant that he would seldom have been unselfconsciously absorbed in the mundane pleasures of life and work. He was an angry, brooding, humiliated man with a mind filled with images of his own wounded ego.
But in a digital universe of social media, wound and ego expand into a new dimension where it is not just “me” filling my conscious mind, it is a vast digital stage in which “me” is both director and heroic actor. In my fantasies I not only imagine myself exacting revenge on my humiliators, I visualize the scripted scenes, expertly directed and, most of all, I see in my mind’s eye the vast digital audience acclaiming my celebrity and hence assuaging the hurt of a life’s humiliation.
The way we think of “me” has changed dramatically over the last four hundred years. During the seventeenth century, for instance, mirrors were uncommon in ordinary houses and the notion of “self” was diffuse and rather a collective affair [i] . “Me” was my family, my social position, my role and an ego-inflating sense of individuality was more a feature of the upper classes, though even these egos were heavily circumscribed by notions of “honour”, “duty” and similar group-oriented values.
Then, post-second world war, the “me generation” was born, a phrase coined by the American writer Tom Wolfe to describe a generation of people born between 1946 and 1964 in whom “me” as a distinct, unique and needy individual flourished as never before in history, once consequence of which was an enormous increase in rates of depression.
And finally, on February 4th 2004, something happened that changed the nature of “me” even more dramatically – Facebook was launched. Suddenly, no longer is “me” just a self-obsessed baby-boomer preoccupied with diet, mortality and purpose in life – now “me” is a publisher, a film director, a cameraman, an actor and – we are always hoping – a celebrity.
Immediately this puts me at a distance from the world – how can I do my job as publisher/director/actor if I don’t disengage from the distractions of reality? I am constantly on the search for images to tweet or upload and so when I see a jet plane crash onto cars on a busy road, it is my job to do my job, because isn’t everyone a journalist now?
Or I am a young Moslem in my bedroom in Glasgow, liaising with a brother in Leeds who has been grooming me on Facebook into the true cause. Gradually he gets me to watch increasingly tough films on the jihadi website – first explosions, now the hangings, finally the beheadings. I watch the glamour of the Jihadi John films, am swept away with the music and visualize myself as a hero in these scenes – a someone, a celebrity.
I switch between perspectives in my mind’s eye as I think about travelling to Syria as the brother wants me to. First I am in my own body, my fingers curled round the AK49, now I switch the camera angle to the brother’s, imagining his smile of approval, then to the panning camera, imagining a vast audience of admiring brothers and sisters cheering me on. I am the detached and all-powerful director of this film.
Men are much more potentially murderous than women but never before in history has the technology existed to supply so many men with the murderous mental images and detached, film-director stance, required for the cruelty that Vester Flanagan showed yesterday.
Lee Rigby’s killers hung around the scene of the ghastly drama they scripted, directed and enacted, machete in bloodied hand, precisely for the consummation of this terrible theatrical performance on this only-ten-year old digital stage.
Social media then – and the 24 hour news channels which so slavishly serve them – are the fuel for a new sort of egotism where you view yourself not from inside your own head, but rather from some imagined camera angle viewed by millions of fans.
Reality and fantasy collapse into each other: observe those witnesses at the Shoreham air crash whose first instinct faced with burning cars on the road was not to run towards them to offer help but rather to film them on their phones.
We have become directors and actors in our own films in which we can fulfill our fantasies of posthumous celebrity – and hence of digital immortality.
[i] Anderson, M. 2015. The Renaissance Extended MInd. Palgrave McMillan, London.
This article was first published in the Daily Telegraph on 27th August 2015
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The father of Tunisian gunman Seifeddine Rezgui said on Sunday that Islamist extremists had “ruined my son’s brain… with horrid thoughts and ideas, they broke him.”
He is right.
Seifeddine Rezgui was almost certainly indoctrinated into a worldwide cult that has acquired political capital using social media just as Facebook and other companies have made financial capital.
The methods used are the same as all cults have used for centuries, from the 12th century Persian/Syrian Assassins to the doomed followers of Jim Jones in 20 th century America. The Assassins and Jim Jones had to physically search out the vulnerable, groom them face to face, “love bomb” them, isolate them from their normal circles and then gradually desensitize them to more and more extreme ideas.
Rezgui’s indoctrinators used the power of social media to fast-track this process and embrace him into a murderous cult. They are doing this with thousands of vulnerable people in most countries of the world, grooming, isolating and desensitizing them from a physical distance of thousands of miles, but a digital distance which is intimately face-to-face.
The New York Times gave a perfect description of this process of indoctrination of a vulnerable young American Sunday-school teacher by a radical English-Islamic recruiter she had never met. Even without any face to face contact, the standard cult-induction methods were used to get her gradually to accept more and more extreme ideas, culminating in the moral acceptability of suicide bombing.
Rezgui was, by all accounts a normal young man, a Madrid soccer supporter who enjoyed break dancing to western music but who, after his first year in university, according to a fellow student, showed a marked changed in demeanor and began to spend more and more time with an extreme Salafi group advocating jihad, and becoming close to its leader, a man called Rashed.
This group did indeed ruin Rezgui’s brain to the point that he came to believe that it was not only acceptable, but actually virtuous, to massacre helpless men, women and children as they enjoyed the simple, harmless pleasures of human existence.
Rezgui, as far as we know, did not start out as a deviant with some sort of disordered personality – the video of him enjoying the simple human exuberance of dancing testifies to this. He wasn’t a failure in life – he was in university, studying, and, for the first year there, apparently happy.
Cult recruiters sniff out vulnerability and isolation, and who knows, perhaps there was something about Rezgui that made him vulnerable. But maybe in certain febrile socio-political climates, personal vulnerability is less crucial for the indoctrinator.
But for sure, Rashed and his fellow recruiters would have made Rezgui feel very special, very respected, very good about himself – this is the love bombing. At the same time they would have insisted on him severing his links with anyone but the cult – this is the isolation that is essential to every cult.
And isolation is crucial because if you control the human contact, then you can control the mind. And then you can systematically re-programme the values and moral compass of the person. “Densitization” means gradually exposing people to ever increasing “doses” of an idea.
This can happen in the body to allergens – it is possible to eliminate some allergies by gradually exposing the person to slightly increasing doses of the substance that otherwise produces an allergic reaction. The body can gradually adapt, from the first tiny exposure, through moderate exposures, until finally the allergic response no longer happens.
The same can be true for ideas, if you control perfectly the mind’s exposure to contrary ideas. First you come to accept that unbelievers are worthless, then that they are spitting in the face of god by flaunting their bodies on these godless beaches. These are not humans, because humans are defined by god, and they are godless. And the rest follows….
The above is an article I wrote in the Daily Telegraph.
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Recently I’ve had great fun interviewing extraordinary performers, one on a bike – Danny MacAskill – and the others flying two planes through a hanger – my discussion with them is below. I’ve learned a lot about the mind-brain in these conversations because, I’ve discovered, top performers are also masters of mind control.
Having recently interviewed Danny MacAskill about his mental processes during the ground-breaking Imaginate series, RedBull.com asked Ian Robertson, Professor of Psychology at Trinity College Dublin, to probe into our pilots’ brains, exploring their neurological processes through the seven key ingredients of focus as set out in the Red Bull Focus Test – react, juggle, control, filter, adapt, solve and endure.
Professor Ian Robertson: Paul and Steve, what was your motivation to attempt something like this?
Steve Jones: I’ve been fascinated by paper aeroplanes from an early age, so my love of anything that flies is deeply ingrained. But equally I think it’s important to say that I hate risk-taking. For me, it’s problem solving. How do we fly two aeroplanes through a hangar safely? Because if you can’t, then you don’t do it. Also, if there’s a significant level of fear, then you probably shouldn’t be doing it because the risk is probably too great.
IR: The fear part of your brain is located to a large extent in a place called the amygdala, and the problem-solving part of your brain is in the frontal lobes. There are projections from the frontal lobes down to the amygdala, and you can really dampen down the activity of the amygdala with the right kind of activity in the frontal lobes. As is the case with all elite performers, you are both grand masters in mind control.
Paul Bonhomme: Very often people say to me ‘You’re an adrenaline junkie’, but I always say that driving down an A-road is more dangerous than what we do. If we’re not in control for some reason, then we’ll stop doing it.
IR: Adrenaline junkies need adrenaline and fear. That’s their hit. Adrenaline switches on the brain systems that produce all these hormones, including adrenaline and noradrenaline. But in your high-precision performance, there can be no real scope for adrenaline in the system. Noradrenaline increases what we call signal-to-noise ratio. Although it makes you faster and more focused, it also increases error.
RedBull.com: How did you find the flight process psychologically?
PB: What I thought was fascinating was that with each flight we did through the hangar, my awareness increased enormously. To the extent that after our 11th flight, we decided that that would be a very good time to stop because I was starting to relax.
IR: That’s interesting, because there’s no fear in your system, but there is arousal, which is roughly the same as alertness. Like many chemical messages to the brain, it’s a U-shaped curve. Too little and your brain underperforms; too much and it overperforms. There’s a kind of Goldilocks zone where you get peak performance. So you managed to stop yourself spilling over the wrong side of that curve.
SJ: It’s funny that, as we did it more and more, I was problem solving less and that did allow for just the start of some fear on the last couple of runs, whereupon we thought ‘Let’s stop now.’
RedBull.com: Did you find it hard to focus at any point?
PB: Well we decided that we were going to have a really gradual descent, because keeping the same height all the way through would have required a lot of workload that wasn’t necessary.
IR: That’s a perfect example of the ‘endure’ part of focus. Keeping at a constant height would have required you to sustain your attention on a single variable. It’s hard for our brains to keep attending to the same thing over a long period. So you gave your brain a different type of challenge, the constantly changing challenge of the descent to the critical last point. What you were doing was sparing one of our most fragile parts of our attention system, the endure system – we call it ‘sustained attention’.
RedBull.com: Was there a plan in place if anything bad happened?
SJ: Things like ‘What if we hit a bird, what if the canopy cracks?’ – all those decisions had been pre-made.
IR: This speaks to the ‘adapt’ side of focus. By anticipating these possible contingencies, you were creating high-level mental routines. People often think of habits as being just behaviours – biting your nails, or putting your phone in your right-hand pocket – but you can have high-level abstract mental routines that are habits as well, which you can switch in like little modules much faster than if you have to think of them at the time.
RedBull.com: Paul, was your approach to this flight the same as it is during normal formation flying?
PB: I aspire not to do any unnecessary movements. I try and make it as easy as possible for someone to follow me, and the hangar flight was a super-extreme version of that.
IR: Most of the activity that goes on in our brain is delegated to a part of the brain that we have no conscious access to, called the basal ganglia and also the cerebellum. Sometimes the critical thing is to not do anything that might send a signal downward that could interfere with the parts of the brain that control these routine activities.
There is no conflict of interest in this article – I wasn’t paid for this.
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The 17-year-old was last seen boarding a train at Victoria Station to fight abroad. Much later, he said: “My politics were driven by emotion. That’s how you see the world at 17. It’s all black and white…” An 18-year-old Briton also left home to fight, but was killed and so could not tell us his reasons for going. The latter was Abdullah Deghayes. The former was Alfred Sherman, knighted co-founder (with Margaret Thatcher) of the Centre for Policy Studies. His war was in Spain, not Syria, and the year he left was 1937, not 2015.
The motives of those two teenagers were similar: zealous commitment to a world-changing ideology; a sense of unjust persecution of fellow-believers; a desire for action to fight that injustice; the smell of adventure; the intoxication of common purpose and the camaraderie that goes with it; the heady pleasure of rebelling; and a glorious sense of purpose, which the young mind craves so much – all bathed in the adolescent delusion of immortality.
These are elements of a story that has been told in every country since human civilisation began; it is a story of teenagers shedding the skin of their child identity and embarking on the painful task of growing a new adult skin that is their own.
So should we relax and accept as an inevitable part of the human experience the flight of hundreds of young Britons to the ranks of Islamic State (Isil)? No, because while Alfred and Abdullah had much in common, there are seven major differences that make today’s problems far greater than those of 1937. Some phenomena are new; some are old, but have been amplified by the internet.
Alfred Sherman and his comrades had no doubt that they were “British” as well as socialist, communist or Marxist. A label like “Marxist” is not an exclusive one, that allows you to be both British and Marxist. And the evidence is that such shared superordinate identities reduce intergroup hatred. In 2015, people can feel no shared identity with neighbours because they are living in totally different virtual worlds of internet and satellite TV. This can degrade the common identity arising from physical proximity.
Them and Us.
The stronger the in-group feelings, the more inclined you are to dehumanise members of the out-group. Teenagers crave a sense of belonging because their uncertain role in the world can make them anxious: the clarity offered by a politically evangelical movement can be the strongest of anxiety-reducing drugs.
Advertisers and propagandists alike know that emotions are the gateway to influence. In 1937, the techniques of mass manipulation of emotions had not been developed; now they are deployed by jihadi groups with professional skill and personally targeted using the very latest methods of digital marketing into the homes of anxious young men and women with conflicted identities.
You had to work hard in 1937 to find like-minded comrades willing to leave home to fight in a foreign land. In 2015 you can assemble a group in minutes without leaving your bedroom. Peer groups are the greatest influence on what teenagers do and think, and social media can cement them into homogenous cells where no dissenting view on the world can break through.
This lets you do things that are out of character. Mouthing a slogan actually changes your attitudes, because of a mental henomenon called “cognitive dissonance”, where the mind strives for consistency between what you do and what you believe.
Teenagers like to rebel as part of their struggle to create their own identity. Muslim teenagers find it difficult to rebel against their communities using the sex, drugs and rock-and-roll techniques beloved of non-Muslim teenagers. Glamorous jihadism offers a much “safer” and culturally more intelligible outlet for teenage rebellion.
Films of Isil beheadings are examples of a corrupting pornography, that, like its sexual equivalent, binds people to a degraded fetish that distorts and dehumanises. The still-developing teenage brain is particularly sensitive to the corrosion of such images.
So what is to be done? The internet and social media must be at the heart of a response to teenage radicalisation. But this will have to be seen as coming from the bottom up if it is not just to become something else to rebel against. And any “positive propaganda” has to be as polished and professional as the films on the jihadi websites. We also have to build plural identities – make people feel British, or American, or Swedish, as well as Muslim – and for positive reasons: anti-immigrant rhetoric is among the most effective recruiting sergeants for the jihadi movement. Finally, 24-hour news channels must stop disseminating the pornography of violence and glamorising the nihilism it represents.
This article was first published in The Daily Telegraph 26th May 2015
On 22 May, Ireland will vote in a referendum on a proposal to reduce the minimum age of a president to 21. This is not a good idea because the human brain’s frontal lobes – critical for good judgment – are not fully wired to the rest of the brain until the mid twenties on average. This is why insurance premiums for young drivers are so high. Presidents have to have good judgment. Most 21 year olds don’t yet have it.
In June 2005, Vladimir Putin saw a diamond-studded Super Bowl ring on the finger of Robert Kraft, the owner of the New England Patriots. Kraft was in St Petersberg for a gathering of business leaders, and the ring was worth $25,000. Putin asked to see it, tried it on, and said: “I could kill someone with this.” Then, allegedly, he put it in his pocket, drew his security guards around him, and left the room.
What does this incident tell us about the psychology of the man who rules Russia? On the day that both government troops and Russian-backed rebels are supposed to begin withdrawing heavy weapons from the fron tline in eastern Ukraine as part of the Minsk agreement, this question is of special importance.
In democracies which have checks on leader’s power, psychology may not play a crucial role in statecraft. But Putin’s control over the Russian media, judicial system and business world means that his personal psychology plays a much more important role in state policies than is the case for other countries.
We don’t know exactly how much control Putin has over the rebels, but it is likely to be considerable, despite their protestations. Putin’s troops operate in Ukraine, and we know he believes himself to be the true leader of Russian-speakers in former Soviet satellites from Ukraine to Lithuania. Just read his speech to the Russia parliament on April 25, 2005:
“Above all, we should acknowledge that the collapse of the Soviet Union was a major geopolitical disaster of the century… Tens of millions of our co-citizens and compatriots found themselves outside Russian territory.”
Three months after the incident with Robert Kraft’s ring, while visiting the Guggenheim Museum in New York, Putin was shown a glass replica of a Kalashnikov gun filled with vodka. According to one biographer, Masha Gessen, Putin nodded to one of his guards, who, to the astonishment of all present, simply pocketed the piece.
Such incidents give us a first, important clue about his personality: Putin does not feel bound by the ordinary rules of civility. This, in turn, suggests that he may not be inclined to respect bigger rules – for instance those of the Minsk agreement.
To be fair, Putin almost certainly believes that the West has breached much bigger understandings with Russia regarding the integrity of the empire he formally served. The sight of NATO fighters patrolling Russian borders in what was formally Soviet territory is galling for him. Similarly, the flirting of former colonies such as Georgia and Ukraine with NATO membership is likely infuriating. From this distorted perspective, he feels justified in breaching more trivial rules of personal property in what he regards as a weak, decadent West.
A second key aspect of his personality is contempt. At a joint German-Russian cabinet meeting in Siberia in 2006, German Chancellor Angela Merkel chided Putin that he should treat his cabinet ministers with respect rather than contempt. Contempt is the emotion reserved for those we regard as inferiors, and it is likely that Putin regards the West – particularly Western Europe – as inferior in many ways, not least militarily.
Yet contempt is a very problematic emotion because it abolishes empathy. Empathy is the crucial ingredient of negotiation: compromises and trust arise when people begin to see things from the other point of view. But contempt negates the other perspective and the object of contempt is just that – an object. Objects do not have a point of view.
There is a third factor underlying Putin’s psychology: fear. A small, thin-skinned man who grew up in poverty in a Leningrad haunted by memories of starvation and death, he was personally witness to what was for him another catastrophe – the collapse of the Soviet Union.
Undoubtedly he suffers the torment of all autocrats – the fear of losing power and the consequences which follow. This is no abstract fear. He fended off a KGB agent’s nightmare when hordes of rebellious East Germans besieged his compound in Dresden in 1989. As a result, he can all too easily envisage such a collapse in his own country should his iron grip loosen.
Putin almost certainly craved respect from the West in the past, but many perceived humiliations – senior US figures describing his country described as “Upper Volta with missiles” for instance – may have pushed this humiliation-sensitive man to a position of existential, Cold War-like opposition to the West, if indeed he ever held any other view.
This is a major problem because it means that we cannot be sure that President Putin will behave entirely predictably according to some logical notion of cost and benefit. Too much power, for too long, has changed his brain to a point where his ego and country are one.
People go to enormous and sometimes self-destructive length in order to protect their egos. This is why humiliating put-downs of Putin and Russia should be ruled out of diplomatic discourse. People behave less defensively, and hence less self-destructively, when their egos are not threatened and their good points emphasized.
But no amount of praise for Russia will dissolve its president’s contempt for the West. Eliminating humiliation can only reduce the chance of some disastrous act of ego-defensive self-destructiveness on the part of Putin.
In the end the only thing which will deter him from trying to save his lamented Russian-speaking diaspora from the clutches of the West is firmness and deterrence on the part of Europe and the USA. Putting those grim, Cold-War sounding words into action is going to be expensive.
This article was first published in the Daily Telegraph on 24th February 2015