Indoctrination - Tumblr Posts
It's a system that's been cemented to train us for factory work. Hyper early morning, extremely prolonged workdays, cafeteria lunch break, and putting your bodily needs aside because there's only one bathroom per floor and if you're lucky, it's a 10 min walk in every direction, and if you're unlucky it can be much more. It's indoctrination. This system has been proven to damage the psyche, but it works very well to train us to give up our rights as humans.
Navigating Friendship and Faith: My Recent Experience
Recently, I found myself in a bit of a dilemma involving a close friend and her evangelical church. It all started when she invited me to a wedding celebration at her church. During the event, the preacher mentioned that they had recently discussed turning people to God. At first, I joked about it with my friend, but soon I realized it might not be a joke after all.
She recently invited me to a Christian camp, and I didnāt know how to respond. Initially, I agreed to go, but then I lied, saying my parents wouldnāt pay for it (it costs 70 euros for two days). She was disappointed but later told me that the leader would allow me to come for free or at a very low cost. Now, I feel like Iāve dug myself into a hole.
This situation has been emotionally challenging for me. On one hand, I deeply value my friendship with her. Sheās an amazing person, and we share so many interests and experiences. Losing her friendship over this would be heartbreaking. On the other hand, I feel uncomfortable with the pressure to participate in religious activities that donāt align with my beliefs.
To give you some context, I am an atheist. My family background is culturally Catholic and Orthodox, and we only observe religious holidays in a cultural sense. My parents, coming from different denominations, decided not to raise my siblings and me religiously to avoid arguments about our Christian upbringing. This has shaped my perspective and beliefs, making me hesitant to engage in religious activities.
I find myself torn between wanting to be honest with her and fearing that honesty might hurt our friendship. Itās a delicate balance, and Iām struggling to find the right words to express my feelings without causing offense or misunderstanding.
The thought of losing a friend over something like this is really upsetting. I keep questioning whether Iām overthinking the situation or if my concerns are valid. Itās been weighing heavily on my mind, and I wanted to share my experience here in hopes of finding some clarity.
Have any of you faced a similar situation? How did you handle it? Iād love to hear your thoughts and advice.
Update
A little dark, but I wanted to show the other side of hypnosis in this story. Much like any other tool, it can be used to help or to harm. There are those who will take advantage of the trust you put in them to control you through trance. The infamous Trey was and still is such a one.
Enjoy the story, if you will, but please also let it stand as a stark reminder. Hypnosis is not a joke. Itās not just a parlor trick. It can be dangerous, if abused, and can (and does) lead a person to eventually perform acts that they would at first have deemed abominable, when given enough time and coaxing. That is what I was trying to portray here in this tale. Synopsis and story are below.
Alejandro wanted to get fit for his new yearās resolution, but didnāt think he could find the motivation to do it and stick to it alone. An old childhood friend suggests a hypnotist to help him get into the spirit of his workout.
Over half a year later, Alejandro is experiencing a crisis, after waking from a trance he didnāt remember consenting to, doing something he would never have done in his conscious mind, or ... would he have?
Regardless, the man fled, and has not returned since. This is the story of his struggle between what he was, and what hypnosis twisted him to be.
Two Masters
How had it gotten like this? How had things pushed so far? Alejandro didnāt know. It started out so innocent, just a new yearās resolution. He wanted to get fit, get ripped, to be truly strong for the first time in his life. He wanted to get hard, like a real man, hard like muscles, hard, so very hard...
He gasped and shook his head. His arms had already been raised to flex and pose. He panted and rushed for a set of bleachers by the park trail. He took a seat, leaned forward to try to let the spell pass. He couldnāt allow himself to fall any deeper than he already had. It was what that bastard wanted.
Just how many men had this monster seduced? How many lives had he destroyed with his words alone? Julio recommended him, practically shoved Alejandro at him. Was Julio in on it, or worse?
The first few months had been so simple and productive. Heād managed to change his diet, drop the junk foods, stick with healthier snacks and choices. Salads and water replaced soda and carbohydrates. Kale and seaweed chips replaced potato chips. Asparagus sprigs, tomatoes, cottage cheese, spinach, chicken breast, rice, quinoa.
Then came the hard part, actually going to a gym. Julio helped. He practically pulled Alejandro to the facility on every scheduled day. The exercise hurt like hell, but it was worth it, once his body adapted. Fat gave way to carved muscle. His body had become a statue, like the old greco-roman works, and he had been the sculptor.
...
But no, not if he was being honest with himself. He was molded, sculpted by him.
āShall the clay say to him that fashioneth it, What makest thou? or thy work, He hath no hands?ā he whispered, quoting the scriptures with which he had been raised.
He still remembered the tracks, the files that whispered to him by night and pulsed in his brain by day in the gym. Outgrowing his clothes had been especially pleasing. He still remembered that time he bent over to pick something up in the office, and his shirt tore off his back. The cold air striking his skin, the goosebumps rising, the exposure, the stares. It was so embarrassing, but ... it felt so right.
How much of it had been the result of his own desires and how much from his training?
...
No, training wasnāt the word. More brainwashing, indoctrination. He still remembered quitting. He couldnāt place why. He just ... wasnāt happy with work anymore, wasnāt satisfied with it. He wanted ... but did he really want it, or was that just the whispers, the tracks?
āOh, God,ā he said as he looked heavenward. It was half swear, half supplication.
Heād been so happy when he started working at the gym. He could teach others how to grow, help them reach the same goals heād achieved, then plow into his own routine in his off hours. It felt incredible.
Then came the tattoos. He wasnāt sure what prompted it. Maybe it was all the times heād seen Julio flex in the mirror when they were together. The way the flesh rippled over the muscle, giving motion and life to those cells that had been permanently marked. Next thing he knew, he was in the tattoo parlor.
...
It wasnāt his last visit.
He stared down at the sleeves of ink that had been so intricately drawn over his legs and arms. Heād even inked his torso.
And he still showed off. It was almost like a compulsion. He was so anxious at what others might think, seeing their looks, their faces.
Judge not, lest ye also be judged.
Jealous....
Fools mock....
These thoughts and many more whispered to him, and slowly, something grew in him. He defied perceived judgement with a cocky sneer, with flexing, with a show of his new strength. If they wanted to judge him, they could do it while they burned with jealousy. He would get bigger.
Bigger.
Stronger.
Stronger.
āGet hard....ā
Alejandro grunted and bowed over his knees, like heād taken a punch to the gut.Ā āNo,ā he growled. āI canāt. I wonāt.ā
He felt his phone sliding from his pocket, so he stuck it down on the bleacher in front of him, then clasped his hands together and bowed his head to see the tent in his crotch. Tears blurred his vision as he warred with primal instincts. His hands trembled as he clenched them harder together.
āGod, please help me,ā he begged.
The tears fell like the sweat that had dripped from his body in the locker room. He still remembered that night, remembered the blank faces on his fellow employees, some of the more extreme lifters, a few of the intermediate patrons. Too many faces for him to sift through. Too many to remember.
...
Remember. What did that word even mean anymore? He hardly thought things through, always just acting, doing. Office work and data points had been replaced with weights, routines, training plans, diets, supplements. The gym had become his home, his life.
The late summer sun kissed his tanned skin warmly, almost comfortingly.
But those words still haunted him.
We grow for Master.
We work hard for master.
Flex for master.
...Serve....
...Obey....
All that and more, while they ... while they....
He couldnāt even bring himself to think of it. And yet, he had been doing it himself, before he came to, just like them, in perfect time. How many times had he done it before? How often had he gathered like that without even knowing?
He felt unclean.
āGod, forgive me,ā he rasped.
His trust had been abused, yet even now he felt that pull, that call. His muscles tensed, his breathing was ragged. His body wanted, neededĀ to move, needed to tense, to flex, to swell, to do as it was programmed.
āNo man can serve to masters. No man can serve two masters. No man can serve to masters,ā he repeated over and over, desperately, imploringly under his breath.Ā āI wonāt go back. I canāt go back. No man can serve two masters. No man can serve two masters....ā
His phone buzzed.
āPlease, God. Please,ā he continued to beg.
The phone continued to buzz.
He peeked one eye open. The glare obscured the screen. Dare he risk it?
He could always go to the police, call 911, do something, anything other than just sitting at the bleachers. But ... Julio. If he was part of this, too, then....
Alejandroās stomach fell. Could his childhood friend even be saved, or was the damage too far gone? Was heĀ too far gone? His hand trembled and his breathing stuttered as he picked up the phone.
A barrage of boxes filled the idle screen.
Master is calling.
Master is calling.
Master is calling.
Master is calling.
On and on it scrolled. The world spun and faded as his face went slack. His thumb scrolled over the messages, until a new one pinged, and he scrolled back up to the top.
No man can serve two masters.
There can only be one.
Report.
Alejandroās thumbs tapped slowly and steadily as he rose from the bench.
Yes, Master.
He sent it.
He had to hurry.
Master was calling.
The one had chosen him.
He must serve.
He must obey.
He patted the crotch of his compression gear just once as he pocketed his phone, then began to run.
āI am coming... I am coming... I am coming....ā
Alt Tex: Man has an invincible inclination to allow himself to be deceived and is, as it were, enchanted with happiness when the rhapsodist tells him epic fables as if they were true, or when the actor in the theater acts more royally than any real king. So long as it is able to deceive without injuring, that master of deception, the intellect, is free; it is released from its former slavery and celebrates its Saturnalia. It is never more luxuriant, richer, prouder, more clever and more daring.
On Truth and Lies in a Nonmoral Sense (1873)
Also applicable to this is:
People see what they want to see and what people want to see never has anything to do with the truth. ā Roberto BolaƱo
Schools can teach, but unfortunately, under capitalism, they are more likely there to indoctrinate.
Children are taught how to stay still for long periods of time, wait through boredom, endure bullying, affirm and normalize hierarchies, and obey authorities unquestioningly: all things adults are forced to do, once they enter the work place, in order to serve corporations and capitalism.
It was bad when I was a kid, and I felt sorry for the other kids as well.
I'd just hoped like hell that what I was experiencing was some bizarre kind of trend or a fluke, and that both kids and adults would be treated better by a better society when I got older ā¦
But it's gotten WORSE.
We at least had reasonable third spaces to run to, when I was a kid.
There were streets you could bike on.
We weren't getting our free time and attention micromanaged by helicopter parents.
We hadn't been conditioned to serve as a panopticon: filming each other without permission and sharing that surveillance maliciously.
We didn't have the Patriot Act in place and encouraging surveillance around the globe.
We didn't have apps that we used to try and relax, spying on us, so that corporations could sell our data and try to fine-tune their efforts to manage algorithms and brainwash us towards our less compassionate natures.
There sure as hell weren't school shootings and a constant in-school police presence to deal with.
And we were not cognizant that there might not even BE a world to live in once we grew up, due to climate change.
I feel sorry for students and for the more earnest teachers in all this.
It has become so difficult to grow into anyone humane, given the current parameters of how children are treated.
Freethinking is illegal and is punishable via sickness and death
Homeschooling
For those who think home schooled kids are indoctrinated just replace that last now biased word with the concept of a worldview and you will realize that all children are "indoctrinated" whether passively or impassively. A schooled child who is bullied, ignored at home, and left to fend for themselves, is also being indoctrinated. They are taught that they are worthless and that the world doesn't care. A schooled child who is taught whatever is on the local school board's agenda whether that agrees or disagrees with their parents' beliefs is also being indoctrinated. Childhood is formation time, and all children are being formed. doctrine /dÅkā²trÄn/
noun
A principle or body of principles presented for acceptance or belief, as by a religious, political, scientific, or philosophic group; dogma.
A rule or principle of law, especially when established by precedent.
A statement of official government policy, especially in foreign affairs and military strategy.
I see many snape stans say Snape was groomed into being a Death Eater. But thereās no canon evidence š. Do you think that was the case for him?
yes and no. I think the issue is that "groomed" isn't the right word, I would use "radicalised." Unfortunately it's very common for teenage boys to be radicalised into far-right beliefs and hate groups, and while it's obviously justified to apportion blame to some extent, I also think understanding why that happens is important in order to combat it. And I think that requires a certain level of nuance and empathy.
Snape had a shit home life and was mistreated even further at school. He was given the short end of the stick in many respects, I think this is undeniably true and while it doesn't justify anything, is what opened the door for him to be radicalised. Obv he is still ultimately responsible for his choices, and they were bad ones, but for me Snape as a character is an interesting parallel to a real life phenomenon.
A lot of teenaged incels are miserable, because We Live in A Society and MOST people are miserable. Instead of reaching the conclusion that this is a systemic issue and correctly identifying the problem, they're led to believe by manipulative, bad-faith actors and echo chambers that the cause of their misery is X group (women, immigrants.) Not to get academic lol but Mark Fisher's concept of "capitalist realism" explains the way that it's impossible for people to see capitalism as anything other than the norm, the default state of society, and even begin to consider that alternatives may exist. So if you're miserable under capitalism without understanding why, you look for someone else to blame. This happens all the time and right-wing politicians are constantly taking advantage of working-class people's misery in order to stir them up into populist fervour- how else are you going to get the poorest people in the US to oppose public healthcare? If you stop to think about it, it's insane.
Back to Snape, I know this is mostly my interpretation and not fully based in canon, but the way I see and write Mulciber is as an extremely manipulative person, who identified Snape early on as both highly useful and as easy prey. The fact that Mulciber specialised in the Imperius curse points to his manipulative nature for me. As does the "he wanted Mulciber" quote, Snape was clearly very invested in gaining his approval (he wanted mulciber quote my beloved). I can see him being led to believe that Muggles (his father, and everything that came from his mother's choice to marry a muggle) and wealthy progressives (James) were to blame. Ofc there is hypocrisy in this, but people aren't always fully logical.
So IN CONCLUSION, while Snape was responsible for his own choices, I think it's worthwhile to think about the other factors at play in the situation. Fiction is a way to understand things that occur in real life, after all, so it's just interesting to consider through the lens of Snape's character.