One of the essential items of the Gramscian menu that now regulates the Brazilian mental diet is information control, which entails the suppression of all facts that could bring harm to the Communist revolutionary project. It took forty years of “occupation of spaces” (a Gramscian technical term) in newspapers editorial departments, publishing houses, and cultural institutions in general to produce this effect, which today can be considered satisfactorily achieved. Inconvenient news, books, and ideas were so effectively removed from the market that the simple possibility that they may actually exist has already disappeared from popular imagination.
If we mention, for example, the Communist aggression that triggered the conflict in Vietnam, nobody knows what we are talking about, because the silly lie that the United States started the war has taken root in public opinion as an unshakable dogma. If we speak of a “revolutionary strategy,” everyone’s eyes fly open, because they are sure that such a thing does not exist. If we allude to plans, already in full swing, to restore in Latin America the empire that has been lost in Communist Eastern Europe, we are immediately labeled as fantasists and paranoids, even though that goal was proclaimed to the four winds by Fidel Castro in the São Paulo Forum.
Of course, all information that could give credibility to our words has been suppressed from the media, bookstores, and ultimately from national memory. Courses on “Revolutionary War”— a subject whose study used to make the Brazilian Army the last stronghold of an alert consciousness against Communist advance—have been abolished even in staff colleges.
Dozens and dozens of books published in the last decade about the new strategies of the Communist revolution have been placed out of reach of the population by an effective cordon sanitaire around the publishing market and cultural media, which today have been almost completely reduced to the status of auxiliary instruments of the leftist strategy of domination. Acting with stealth, getting around direct confrontation, avoiding explicit preaching, that strategy succeeded so completely in dominating people’s minds that many in the news media and cultural milieux repeat slogans without having the slightest idea that they are actually using Communist watchwords.
There are, of course, conscious collaborators. More than conscious: professional collaborators. The Brazilian Central Workers’ Union, the Workers’ Party, the Landless Movement have on their payroll thousands of media communications professionals. It is an army of reporters and editors larger than that of Globo network, Abril publishing house, and of the newspapers Folha de São Paulo and Estado de São Paulo taken together. They suffice to make those leftist organizations the largest journalistic and editorial industries in the country. But the fact is that they do not get paid to write: they get paid not to write. They are paid to “occupy spaces” in newspapers, book, and magazine publishing companies, blocking, by their mere presence, inconvenient words, and spreading, by their everyday conversation alone, convenient ones. Even in this activist elite, few are aware that their function is that of censors and manipulators. Such is the subtlety of Gramscism, which always relies on the effect of that which is implicit and unstated. It is not even necessary to tell these professionals what to do: imbued with the desired beliefs, placed in decisive positions, they will always go in the expected direction, like water down the drain. And all people who simply repeat what they say have no idea of the overall project with which they are collaborating. So automatic and thoughtless is this mechanism that one of the leading experts in manipulation of intellectuals in the Soviet world, Willi Münzenberg, called it “rabbit breeding:” to get it started, you just need to have a couple. The rest comes by virtue of nature. But what has been planted in the newsrooms, with money received from abroad, by the way, was not a couple of rabbits, but rather some thousands of couples. The multiplier effect is irresistible.
Today, it is in the assuredness, in the pompous and arrogant ease with which people who do not know anything about the subject assure us that Communism is a thing of the past while slavishly repeating Communist slogans (being unaware that they are Communist slogans) lies the best guarantee that the plans announced by Fidel Castro in the São Paulo Forum will be conducted with the foolish complicity of millions of quiet and self-satisfied fools.
There is nothing more urgent than making available information that has been suppressed. Only that can restore the possibility of a realistic debate on issues that are now left to be dealt with by the banal imagination of uneducated dilettanti and the consensual engineering of those strategists who manipulate them.
This book is destined to become a memorable milestone in the recovery of this possibility. Here, for the first time, broad enough documentation has been gathered to demonstrate the inescapably conspiratorial, revolutionary, and Communist character of an organization that, in the eyes of the uninformed, still passes off as the embodiment par excellence of a left that is renewed, democratic, and purified of all contamination with the totalitarian past.
The courage, patience, and determination with which its author, Adolpho J. Paula Couto, gathered and arranged all these fulminating pieces of evidence of the leftist perfidy will make him forever target of hatred of the current masters of morals. I think anything more honorable could be said of a good man.
Olavo de Carvalho
Translation by Alessandro Cota
The most obvious thing about the analysis of history and society is that when a situation changes considerably, you can no longer describe it with the same concepts as before: in order to account for unheard-of facts, not classifiable under known categories, you have to create new concepts or perfect the old ones through criticism.
With the stage of world government implementation already in full swing, it is pathetic to notice that political analysts, whether in academia or in the media, continue to offer the public analyses based on the old concepts of “national state,” “national power,” “international relations,” “free trade,” “democracy,” “imperialism,” “class struggle,” “ethnic conflicts,” etc., when it is clear that none of those bear much relation to the facts of today’s world.
The most basic events of the last fifty years are: first, the rise of the globalist élites, detached from any identifiable national interest and engrossed in the building not only of a world state, but a unified and entirely artificial planetary pseudo-civilization, conceived not as an expression of society, but as an instrument for the control of society by the state; second, the fabulous advancements of the human sciences, which have placed in the hands of those élites means of social domination never dreamed of by tyrants of other times.
As early as several decades ago, Ludwig Von Bertalanffy (1901-1972), the creator of general systems theory, aware that his contribution to science was being used for undue purposes, warned, “It is perhaps the greatest danger of the systems of modern totalitarianism that they are so alarmingly up-to-date not only in physical and biological, but also in psychological technology. The methods of mass suggestion, of the release of the instincts of the human beast, of conditioning and thought control are developed to highest efficacy; just because modern totalitarianism is so terrifically scientific, it makes the absolutism of former periods appear a dilettantish and comparatively harmless makeshift.”
In his 1998 book, L’Empire Écologique: La Subversion de l’Écologie par le Mondialisme (The Ecological Empire: The Subversion of Ecology by Globalism), Pascal Bernardin explained in detail how the general systems theory has been used as a basis for the construction of a world totalitarian system, which in the last ten years has definitively gone from blueprint to patent reality—a reality which is clear to all but those who do not want to see. Von Bertalanffy, however, was not referring only to his own theory. He speaks of “methods” in the plural, and ordinary citizens of democracies cannot have any idea of the plethora of scientific resources now at the disposal of the new lords of the world. If von Bertalanffy had to mention names, he would not have omitted Kurt Levin, perhaps the greatest social psychologist of all times, whose Tavistock Institute, in London, was founded by the global élite itself in 1947 for the sole purpose of creating means of social control capable of reconciling the permanence of formal legal democracy with the total domination of the state over society.
Just to give you an idea of how far all this goes, the educational programs of almost all nations of the world—which have been in force for at least twenty years now—are determined by homogeneous rules directly imposed by the United Nations, and calculated not to develop children’s intelligence or conscience, but to make them docile, malleable, morally characterless creatures, ready to adhere enthusiastically and without discussion to any word of command which the global élite may deem useful for its objectives. The means used to achieve this are “non-aversive” control techniques conceived to make their victim not only feel as if he is acting of his own free will when he yields to impositions from authority, but also to develop an immediate reaction of irrational defense to the mere suggestion that he should critically examine the subject in question.
It would be a euphemism to say that mass application of such techniques “bears influence on” public education programs: these techniques are the whole content of current schooling. All disciplines, mathematics and science included, have been reshaped to serve psychological manipulation purposes. Pascal Bernardin himself meticulously described this phenomenon in his 1995 book Machiavel Pédagogue (Machiavelli the Educator). Read it and you will find out why your child cannot solve a quadratic equation or finish a sentence without lapsing into at least three solecisms, even though he comes back from school bossing you around like a people’s commissar, demanding “politically correct” behavior of his parents.
The quickness with which sudden mutations of mentality—many of which are arbitrary, grotesque, and even absurd—are universally imposed without meeting the least resistance (as though they had emanated from an irrefutable logic and not from despicable Machiavellianism) could be explained by the simple school brainwashing that prepares children to accept new fashions as divine commands.
But obviously, school is not the only agency engrossed in producing such results. Big media, now massively concentrated in the hands of globalist mega-corporations, play a fundamental role in dumbing down the masses. In order to achieve this, one of the most widely employed techniques nowadays is cognitive dissonance, a discovery made by psychologist Leon Festinger (1919-1989). This is how it works. If you read today’s newspapers, you will see that Tiger Woods, the golf champion, one of our most beloved citizens of late, is now under heavy attack by newspapers and TV news shows because the poor man has been found to have mistresses. Scandal! Horror! General indignation threatens to drop half of the adulterer’s sponsorship deals and strike him off of the list of the “beautiful people” who appear on advertisements for sneakers, bubble gums, and miracle diets. But there is a telltale detail: beside the protests against the sportsman’s immorality, there are fierce attacks on “right-wing extremists” who do not accept abortion, gay marriage, or the inducing of children to premature sexual delight. The two moral codes, mutually contradictory, are simultaneously offered as equally obliging and sacrosanct. Excited and impelled to all kinds of sexual debaucheries, while at the same time threatened with character assassination in case he may practice them even to a modest degree, the anguished citizen reacts through a kind of intellectual breakdown, becoming a servile fool who no longer knows how to orient himself and who begs for a voice of command. The command can be empty and meaningless, as for example “Change!,” but when it is uttered, it always sounds like a relief.
Blaming scientists for this state of affairs is as idiotic as pinning the blame for murders on weapons. Men like von Bertalanffy, Levin, and Festinger created instruments that can serve both the building up of tyranny and the reconquest of freedom. It is we who have the obligation of taking those weapons out of the hands of their monopolistic owners and learning to use them for the opposite purpose, freeing our spirit instead of allowing it to be enslaved.
Olavo de Carvalho
Diário do Comércio, December 17, 2009
Translated by Alessandro Cota
No historian, no well-informed reader can conceive the great literature of the first half of the 20th century without the names of G.K. Chesterton, Léon Bloy, T.S. Eliot, François Mauriac, Julien Green, Flannery O’Connor, Georges Bernanos, Paul Claudel, Miguel de Unamuno, Gerard Manley Hopkins, Graham Greene, Evelyn Waugh, Charles Péguy, Hugo von Hoffmansthal, Hermann Broch, Gertrud von Le Fort, Giovanni Papini, Giuseppe Ungaretti, Henrik Sienkiewicz, José Maria de Pereda. What do these authors have in common—and many others that I have omitted? They are all Catholic writers, not only because they publicly regarded themselves as members of the Church, but because their works reflect the themes and concerns that are most typically cherished by the Catholic soul, especially sin and Grace. Through the books of those writers, the aforementioned themes entered the high culture of their time and in the personal conversations of millions of readers just as naturally as Marxist themes entered through Górki or Brecht, the esoteric themes of Hermann Hesse and WB Yeats, the psychoanalytic ones of Arthur Schnitzler, James Joyce or Tennessee Williams, and so on.
There is no exaggeration in saying that during the half 20th century the Catholic experience was one of the main, if not the main, inspiring force of literary creativity throughout the Western world.
This flourishing of Catholic literature, unusual even in earlier, more significantly Christian times, was facilitated by the growing interest of the literate classes in the knowledge of the human soul. Fueled by the advent of the so-called “deep psychology,” an exceptionally favorable environment in the traditional discipline of the examination of conscience and confession could be found.
Nothing is more indispensable to the fiction writer than the conquest of their own voice, personal in the highest degree, that speaks from direct individual impressions, and that languishes instantly as soon as the sense of concrete experience is stifled by the intrusion of stereotypes and “general ideas.”
The practice of Catholicism consists much less in adhering intellectually to doctrines than in seeking, with the help of these doctrines, a direct dialogue between the soul of the sinner and the only possible source of redemption. Every faithful Catholic knows that only before God does the soul reach that level of perfect sincerity, which human interactions seek, in vain, to imitate. Hence the unusual vivacity, the penetrating realism with which the Catholic experience is transformed into a literary representation of life.
This also explains why, in the decades following the Second Vatican Council, the great Catholic literature disappeared, and the average one, which continues to exist, no longer plays nor has the strength to play any major role in the high culture world.
The Church, as we already know, was split by the Council. On the one hand, enthusiasts of “aggiornamento,” eager to win the sympathy of the world, have sold their soul to a “do-gooding” left-wing so that they may be praised by the media. However, in the realm of literary creation, where the “war against the cliché,” as Martin Ames called it, is the daily bread, it can only result in the self-destruction of all talents.
The epitaph of Catholic progressivism in literature was “Monsignor Quixote” (1982), where, driven by the desire to make the pompous mediocrity of a leftist bishop a symbol of authentic holiness, Graham Greene, who became a distinguished writer because of the psychological veracity of the characters in his works, only proved what every novel reader already knew: fashion stereotypes are the kryptonite of the literary genius.
On the other hand, the traditionalists, who were marginalized, persecuted, rejected by the very authority they professed to obey, confined themselves to a combatant and spiteful mood, which can inspire beautiful controversial plots, but still dries out the romance imagination.
The highest literary personality of this faction, the Canadian novelist Michael O’Brien, continues to produce works worthy of attention, but almost always weakened, more or less, by an overly ostensible catechetical impulse, which doesn’t catechize anyone precisely because it doesn’t attract the non-Catholic readers. What remains of Catholic literature in the world falls into the category of “special interests,” which is to say: it has no voice in the high culture world. Walker Percy, born in 1919 and died in 1990, is an exception to the rule and belongs more to the previous era.
It is true that two of the most successful novelists in recent decades are Catholic authors: J. R. R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis. Still, both writers are from the first half of the 20th century and were only discovered by the general public at a later period thanks to the cinematographic adaptations of their creations.
Examining the smaller and local scale of Brazil, the process becomes even more obvious, the decline more vertiginous. Aside from theologians, the greatest writers and poets we had were Augusto Frederico Schmidt, Manuel Bandeira, Jorge de Lima, Murilo Mendes, Octavio de Faria, Lúcio Cardoso, Cornélio Penna, Alphonsus de Guimaraens Filho—all Catholic. But what do we have now? Since the death of the Brazilian poet Bruno Tolentino the literary produce of Catholic authors has been worse than nothing. If “by their fruits you shall know them” can be applied to cultures, then something has gone wrong in Brazilian culture. I think we must all agree—at least a little—with the traditionalists and acknowledge: the Second Vatican Council was a disaster.
Olavo de Carvalho
Diário do Comércio, January 12, 2014
Translation by Leilah Carvalho