although not precisely the source of high-tech crime, primordially signalled the beginning of all crime, guilt, and treason, located in the early heavens of newly-minted mankind, reflecting itself today in world-wide paranoia, which, varying in intensity, causes treason to vary in intensity as well, and when paranoia-laden rumors attack the Author, his quaint mind finds itself the target of 1,2,4,8 secret services, with only minor benefits, while his own mental state is worsening.
PEOPLE have smiled at my optimism, my trust in others, my unwillingness to believe that I have enemies, ill-wishers, and a clutch of opponents.
They chuckle that I don't feel the threat of cuckolding, am careless with property, and sign contracts as if they were bar chits. They laugh that I promote schemes for human progress in the arts and sciences, and, worse, in government and politics, which nearly everyone considers to be hopeless.
To all of which I replied that I might as well be this way as any other way, since no one gets what he wants anyhow.
How many times have I checked the list: "How to Get What You Want!":
Cry: Boo, hoo!
Laugh: Ha, ha!
Write: Tap-tap, scribble..
Shoot yourself: Bang!!
Agitate: Now hear This..!
Organize: Hup, 2, 3, 4, ..!
Buy out: Cheap, dear.
Use force: Unless you..!
Melt down: Blubaglugatrickle..
And you can behave in any combination of ways, all improbably effective. The human condition being what it is, maybe you will be led by some faint indications -- a slow pulse, a flicker of an eye-lid -- to believe that you are resuscitating the corpus humanis, and that's all you can hope for, but isn't that great?!
But now the threats arising from the Marx affair beg fair to alienate me from my fool's paradise. Everyone can now see that I, too, can become paranoid Mr. Hyde, and that what they say about me is untrue, that I can and do harbor suspicions of all kinds, that I am working up a storm of perceived threats and ghostly enemies. The time has come to reveal and put to work The Other Side of Me!
At least I shall from these pages establish the part of my reputation that has been in disrepair; my paranoia is now full-flaring, such that I can be reputed to be a true son of our age, of our culture, of the good old USA, an honest-to-god paranoiac of the species Homo Schizo, who is capable of seeing a devil in every corner, under every bed, sticking her bare ass out from the cathedral tower of Freiburg, behind every steering wheel, affixed to every business contract. And I can dissemble patrimania to perfection.
I am no more worried by one secret service than another, however, or by ordinary dangers more than extraordinary. I have just elevated the level of my paranoia to match the circumstances. I am now arrived like all of you at the state expecting to be grabbed from behind before you can exclaim "Komitet Gosudrastvennoy Bezopasnosti!"
Like the joke Mein Lieber Charles related, of the party where each nationality told of his happiest moment and the Russian, come his turn, recalled the night when he was aroused by a car pulling up below, heavy steps up the stairs to his door, knocking, and the loud words "Police! Open up!" and when he hastily opened terrified, the rough voice said, "Metchnikov, Dimitri, you are under arrest!"
"Metchnikov, Metchnikov, wait, wait, -- he lives upstairs!"
Things may come to a pretty pass, I can tell you. I have been through three wars, and a dozen spy scares, and passed through thirty-one countries where spy scares were the order of the day: it doesn't take much to make Brawny Men, Captains of Industry, Noisy Eaters of the Breakfast of Champions, even New York Cab Drivers, spill confidences out of the corner of their mouths that weigh no more than a wisp of whatnot, or they will talk about the weather. I remember Joe of the Blue Jowels scaring the pants off of Tycoons and Generals and Cabinet Secretaries just by raising his black eyebrows and shooting a knowing glance over to one of his cocky assistants.
Talking about this Marx affair, I have once again to hear my wife saying, "You know, I never have of demanded you whether you were ever a spy, I never have, but the thought did enter my mind."
"Don't bother," I said, helping myself to more of her lentil soup,
I will say that I was not, but of course you cannot believe me, I wouldn't if I were you, and besides I might decide to say yes I was, and you cannot believe that either, can you? For if I had said no, it would not necessarily be untruthful to you, you wouldn't mind my saying so, because you would appreciate that I was pledged not to say yes to the question, no matter who asked it, but if I say yes and I am telling you the truth, I would be doing you a bad turn, because then you would be incriminated with me if it were true, but it probably would be me saying yes only to throw you further off the mark, for who would ever believe you if you turned witness against me, but you couldn't do that anyway since a wife may not testify against her husband, if it ever came to that, while, in talking to my friends or enemies, you would not be believed, because they all know that you are a novelist and full of romantic illusions, and, besides, that I would never tell you such a thing if I actually were so, because they know that I would be pledged not to. Right?
"That's what I would say, too, if I were you," she said as I spooned the fast-cooling soup into my gullet,
and that's why I would not bother to ask you, and I don't want you to think even now that I am asking you. And that's why I would not even tell you my opinion, because if I were correct and the answer were yes, you would be dismayed at burdening me with such knowledge, while if I said yes and the answer were no, you would be angry at me for framing you in a false light, and a dangerous one to boot, whereas if I said no and was right, you would not be able to give me the comfort of agreeing, and anyway I would not accept your comfort, since I could not rely upon it, but if I said no and was wrong, you would feel terrible for living with me under false pretenses, and I know how hard you are trying, even at this late stage of your life, or precisely because it is such a late stage of your life, to be honest with me in all things.
She always has the last word.
If things seem confused to you, that's because they are. This is what I mean when I cite Maxim #21, to wit, that "Espionage descends to Dyspionage," an unpleasant state of chaos and disorder, extremism and apathy.
Recent surveys show that more than half of the American people have arrived at the condition of mistrusting the public authorities and heads of institutions, not to mention their friends and neighbors.
And I call your attention to the fact that most people can't or don't give their honest and correct opinion on such matters, so the percentage may be dangerously close to the point of no return, say 70%.
I give you the "Oswald Indicator" of paranoid pandemia. As the percentage of Americans who believe the official (and to my view, well-nigh conclusive view), that Oswald, a loner, killed Kennedy, and was killed by Jack Ruby, another loner, goes down, the general level of paranoia increases. Today, only 13% of the American people so believe; the rest think there was a conspiracy behind the assassination, and/or in a coverup of the facts of the case.
Too, the less the government confides in the people, the more pandemic the paranoia. President Reagan, who exudes openness, spread secrecy like the plague. For example, he used National Security Decision Directives, which are classified from the public, for questionable policies, spending, appointments, and behavior, putting all of this behind the scenes. The Pentagon's "black" secret budget has grown from $5 billion in 1981 to $35 billion in 1988. The volume of secret or restricted documents rose 66% between 1986 and 1987!
Reagan issued in 1984 an NSDDA declaring that unclassified but "sensitive" information stored in computers and conveyed by electronic networks "can become targets for foreign exploitation" and created a power in the National Security Agency headquarters at Fort Meade that began to pressure networks and large companies to encrypt their communications with equipment designed by and available only through NSA and denied to the outside world.
Beginning in 1986 the Department of Defense, the F.B.I., and the C.I.A. added their muscle and by October 1986, Reagan's National Security Adviser, John M. Poindexter (later to be indicted in the Irangate affair) issued a memorandum declaring that any data related to national defense or foreign relations as well as "economic, human, financial, industrial, agricultural, technological, and law-enforcement information" that might be considered "sensitive" would be subject to government regulation. Frank Carlucci, Poindexter's successor, under Congressional advisement, rescinded the memo.
America has become a paranoiac country which is the other side of the coin of the spy state or a dyspionage state, arising out of its diverse origins and mishistoricism and therefore provoked into this state only slightly by a series of bungled spy cases going back two generations, reinforced by television, movies, and books in countless number on the theme of "Distrust your neighbor!"
Advertising, too, has helped as well in laying the groundwork for the American type of patrimaniac paranoia. Being also a country where for a long time now, nobody says what they mean and nobody means what they say, the trend to dyspionage has been accelerated. I would coin another maxim but won't: "Hypocrisy and paranoia are closely correlated."
I am sure that the drug scene has promoted paranoia and hence indirectly and even directly espionage and ultimately dyspionage. Not only in America but in the rest of the world.
In France, for example, you can read today in the newspaper some astonishing utterances by M. Michel Danet of the Head Office for Customs: "All is possible and no citizen is beyond suspicion. A nun, an ailing person, a cripple, an old one, or even a corpse can be carrying drugs." The drugs can come packed in pineapple cans from Columbia; they can be cooked and molded into forms, even into a Samsonite valise. A more primitive dodge is to swallow cocaine capsules before take-off in the hope of defecating them after arrival, risking death if a capsule should rupture internally meanwhile.
If you are "coming from Latin America, Bangkok or Pakistan, are ill at ease, discomfited in the airport, are wearing new clothes, and bearing a recent passport," you are almost sure to come under suspicion and be subjected to a round of indignities.
The total scene is homo schizo par excellence. Vast sums of money, legions of police, whole school systems, and much of the mass media are given over to the hopeless assault upon the problems that a couple of million people have with drugs. (Actually, the narcotics industry gives some millions of farmers and processors their only chance in life to make a decent living for themselves and their families; per capita income in Pakistan runs around $300, one fortieth of the average U.S.A. citizen.)
Anyhow the grave problem is the destruction of the minds and liberties of the rest of the population in the States and perhaps in several other countries where the problem is severe. The drug law and enforcement system is a fast breeder of the police state and by extension the state of dyspionage. It is hard to resist the argument that drugs such as cocaine and marijuana should be permitted a free market, just as alcohol and cigarettes for the most part enjoy; the result would be the collapse of the totally corrupting illegal industry all the way from the grower to the retailer.
I said earlier that children are quicker to reject their parents than parents their children (although the latter gets a bigger press), and I might have included nieces and nephews. Just as the saying, "a prophet is without honor in his own land," can also be reversed to "a land is without honor in the eyes of its prophet."
My dear svelte smart niece Cindy has devoted the decades of her life since adolescence to a mean little group called the National Caucus of Labor Committees directed by a wizard named Larouche, originally a computer programmer (there it is again!), without pay or for a bare subsistence and with fanatic loyalty. The group is as paranoiac as can be found anywhere, not excluding Jones' People of God who committed mass suicide in Guyana, as paranoid as you can get without the screaming sirens betokening the coming of the White Coats.
Its ideology is obscurantist, its style scientoid and ferociously accusatory, its targets seem to occur almost by random selection, and range from the Rockefellers to the Soviet Politburo. It is totally professional in tactics and media use, utterly unscrupulous, tightly bossed. Its propaganda is a blend of marxism and fascism and technocracy, with some anti-semitism for good measure.
It affords vivid proof of the psychopathology of politics, when the whole world is viewed through a paranoid screen. Proof once again, as with the Integralist Catholics of Switzerland, that fear and hate are the most effective energy mobilizers of politics and espionage.
FLASH! La Rouche has just been jailed for a fifteen years' term, convicted of fraud and tax evasion.
No matter: my dear niece Cindy, spaced-out on their space-ship, goes careening along through the vacuum of paranoid space. No use hawking her my books on world union.
The normal level of paranoia in America, I estimate, is in any event high, and I offered above the figure of 70%. So if this figure were to go up another 10%, say, all the statements of this book would have their signs (+ and -) reversed, and every affirmation or negation would be transduced into its opposite.
Switzerland is not much different in developing a gradually swelling paranoia. Isolation, smallness, being envied without cause (the Swiss do not think themselves so happy as others think they are and think the Swiss think they are, and as a matter of fact they are not), the failure of the Swiss dream of being an example of peacefulness and prosperity to the underdeveloped world, the fatal attraction of the country for some of the most greedy, pretentious, meretricious and downright wicked people of the world, and holding their property and money for them to make matters worse, and being dependent, if not on this, then on tourism which is the same people plus a few others like me and you and so there is no gain there.
Therefore you get the same paranoia as elsewhere, which I cannot pause to extenuate in this book, like the Bundesanwalt or Public Prosecutor, Herr Gerber, saying "Giving away economic secrets would push Switzerland into deadly isolation."
And the Liberal Party Leader going around the country, yes, the same Federal Councillor as was chosen by the Parliament to be Minister of Justice, and had a bomb exploded by his house for his pains to defend the country against spies, and travels about lecturing, citing people like Christoph Marx as unfortunate examples to the Congregation of the Association of Building Superintendents of Basle.
I have already mentioned the flag-waver and list-keeper for the group, Col. Cincera, who lives off his lists and his inside dope on the Redlands and was indicted and tried for invasion of privacy.
A condition of collective paranoia, provoked by dyspionage and driven by patrimania, can change the whole weight of opinion of a people overnight, so that the ship of state will roll from port to starboard, and pitch from prow to stern, until it slips quite out of control. Nor are the Swiss, for that matter, immune to this fatal denouement.
Bernard Barber said in a book on trust that he gave me, "with regards," in June 1984, not so long ago, and which I now extricate from its neglect for the consolation it affords me, that by trust is meant the expectations sunk into our being that the natural and moral order will persist and be realized.
Exactly my point. The spy is a coruscating worm in the social order. The spy-supporter is the egg of the worm. The sources of our mistrusts are the spontaneous generators of the worms. And these are the uncontrollable impulses seeking to control our fearful selves and the fearful outer selves that we have cast upon the world and the heavens, whence these terrors emanated in the first place.
All have come to expect a breach of trust at the slightest provocation, if they do not mistrust from the beginning.
The Garfinkle Breach Experiments are crucial and elegant. His laboratory trains "Mistrust Provocateurs" to go forth and to ask the first acquaintance they meet to clarify, and further clarify, and further, clarify, some insignificant remark such as, "I had a flat tire." "What do you mean, a flat tire?" "Just that!" "There's no just that, wasn't it flat before?" and again and again. Result, in all cases, shock, distrust, near crackup of relationships.
Second Breach Experiment: Acting in the family as if one were a boarder instead of a member for 15 minutes to an hour. Results, again, near disaster: one after another conflicts, arguments, dissociations, shock, anxiety, embarrassment, accusations of weirdness and immorality.
Third type of Breach Experiment: Express doubt of the motives of whichever acquaintance you happen next to encounter, while in conversation, and continue to do so until something happens. Begin, say, by challenging: "I hope the weather clears up?" "Why?" "Oh, I don't know." "Why won't you give your real reason?" "I'm cold, that's why!" "You don't look cold." "Of course I am!!" "Are you up to your old tricks?" "What old tricks!!!"
What happened usually was that the other person thought he was hated and the experimenter began to hate the other person too. What they thought that they were practicing was becoming the real thing!
According to Niklas Luhman, a complete absence of trust would prevent a person from getting up in the morning.
One would be prey to a vague sense of dread, to paralyzing fears. He would not even be capable of formulating distrust and making that a basis for precautionary measures, since this would presuppose trust in other directions. Anything and everything would be possible. Such abrupt confrontation with the complexity of the world at its most extreme is beyond human endurance.
Once you become engrossed in figuring out the strategies of distrusting people and situations, Luhman goes on to say, you become burdened down with making decisions:
They often absorb the strength of the person who distrusts to an extent which leaves him little energy to explore and adapt to his environment in an objective and unprejudiced manner, and hence allow him fewer opportunities for learning.
Your whole structure for making decisions begins to crumble. Finally you have to resort to a strategy that I have evolved from a saying favored by my brother, J. Marcus, "No matter which way you decide, it will be wrong." To which I add, "Therefore, choose either way." It's a liberating attitude under the conditions of life today.
Or else you might dive off the deep end. This is what I am trying to picture to you. One Marx is a predicament, two Marxes is a problem, three Marxes would be enervating, four = maddening, five would invoke catatonic collapse. There was the catatonic schizophrenic reported in Bleuler's famous textbook, Dementia Praecox, who, brought before the court to determine his sanity, readily confessed to his symptoms of paranoia with hallucinations, but thereupon declared, "Be that as it may, there are still sufficient reasons to proceed against the gang."
Such happens under the deteriorating conditions foreseen by Maxim #21 in the spy state, the police state, the state of dyspionage, where the number of individuals involved in secret activities exceeds a certain threshold. Caught in the Venus Spy-Trap: the whole society chills into a world of glacial ice interspersed with exploding volcanoes. And in this Dantesque Hell the damned are up to their chins in ice and chattering to each other secrets about one another. Such was Stalin's Soviet Union.
It becomes paranoid, catatonic, to avoid the self-accusations and accusations by others. It loses its efficiency. Russia under the Czars was close to being a police state, as any serious reader of Dostoyevsky will tell you and every historian will agree; then, after a few years of freedom -- yes, despite all the killing and starvation -- a certain freedom in the arts and sciences, possibly induced by the breakdown of the statal apparatus, which made it seem as if the great wish of Marx, Engels, Trotsky, and Lenin were coming true, a withering away of the state, there came the progressive repression of Stalinism and a slowing of the great body of the Soviet people into a freezing bureaucracy tended by the police state, this dyspionage.
I mentioned to you earlier the change in the French character that I observed happen over the past fifty years, from open to reserved and cautious, if not downright suspicious, due to spending half the time in a police state or some condition close to that. A private French radio program has been broadcasting accusations of individuals sent in by listeners. Their radio-frequency has become a flood of rustiness! It is all done under a cover-up of "Skyman." Write or call in what you would like Skyman to do to your enemy. Modern Haitian voodoo!
I suggest that you not ignore completely a Deduction (It may be termed the "Larzac Deduction" from the time he almost deducted a finger along with the pig knuckle being handed him.) which is again from Maxim #21: that the end effect of dyspionage, the Last Stage of Espionage, locks into the Second Law of Thermodynamics, nothing less.
Dyspionage ends in disorder, uniformly spread over the deadened population, where motion is ceasing. The society is passing into the state of entropy: the complete indifference of all to all.
The destruction of Nazi Germany was ensured by a massive animal revulsion and reaction of the immortal soul of the Soviet peoples under threat of genocide, no thanks to communism. The masses caught the horrible message that the German Nazis represented.
And the Soviet victories in space, the weight of whose achievement upon the scientific resources of the country has been enormous, too, had little relevance to communism. It is hardly controvertible (yes, comrades, sorry!) that any plausible projection of Russian achievements up to World War One (sic!) would arrive at space accomplishments similar to those of the Americans and Europeans; the prototype inventions were already a generation old.
Onetime the Dutch scientist Hendrick Casimir was flattering a Soviet scientist by complaining that, as contrasted with conditions under socialism, good projects in Holland were not funded if they were not commercially promising. The Soviet replied ruefully, "I am afraid that if a project is economically not viable with you, it is usually not socially justifiable with us."
Please do not bring up the subject of the Atom Bomb instead; once the prototype of this was invented, a college physics class in a university free of football pollution could be directed to make one up. People will never get it into their heads that physics is much simpler to execute than the social sciences. All of the natural sciences are much more administroid than the human sciences.
The premature Glasnost of Lenin-days is finally followed by the Great Glasnost of Mikhail Gorbachev: we shall see now the difference!
But, then, back on the ranch, our problem of the one, two, three, four ..n poly-ego's of Christoph Marx, and the one, two, three, four, ..n secret services -- state and private. The origins of them all: wherefrom? They are not a product of a Swiss or American or a Soviet Constitution, which, by the way, if you would examine them, are not very different. They are all Federal Republics! They all know the Good.
For the origins of the world of security, look to the skies.
God is a Spy. He, She, It, and They always have been a spy. Every one of the 269,872 gods. A particular kind of spy and very often not a nice type. I write this when the United States is being afflicted by an especially lecherous type of mass TV evangelist, who spy upon each other, exposing their hypocrisies, greed and enormous arrogance. "God is watching you," they have been preaching to their many millions of watchers. God is watching OVER you, which is a little better way of putting it. Christ Jesus says it this way in the Gospels, God is watching over you. But even in such watching occurs a listing of sins, a countdown to Judgement Day.
Is it any wonder that with this overweening threat, even acccompanying one of the mildest of gods, Jesus, there should be a universal desire to watch and punish, watch and punish.
The watch and ward and punish society goes back to the very beginning of time and man and the Divine Succession, as I referred to it in my book of that name. From the very first concept of gods in the awakened mind of man, formed as he watched the great Cosmic Egg in the Sky and its bursting and its interminable succession down to this very day, man has been projecting his pathetically crippled, but therefore burgeoning, mind upon the sky gods, reading back into it what he wanted, namely control of his own crazy mind, control of the world outside, peace of mind.
From the Cosmic Egg descended in time the Eye of the One-eyed Great Teutonic God Woden (Odin) and his Egyptian counterpart, Atum-Osiris.
When the Swiss police plunged into the files and recordings of Marx and his companions, the Swiss police and prosecutors were looking for Maat, Truth, the Eye of Atum-Osiris-Saturn somewhere in it all, and became enmeshed in the Venus Spy-trap. The Eye of Saturn was called Maat who became a goddess, but the principal goddess who was originally entrusted with the Eye of Saturn was Hathor, none other than the Egyptian Venus.
Mankind was behaving wickedly, as usual, at least in the eyes of the Great God, and Hathor was delegated to destroy the species. Down she swooped, but then was recalled in the middle of her task by the recanting god of gods, as gods do always recant when it comes to annihilating their favorite species homo sapiens schizotypicalis.
(The worst part of being a god, in my humble opinion, is that you are dependent upon man for your existence, and, even though mankind does not know it and believes that you exist without him, you yourself know this, and therefore cannot let him be erased from the globe. As tempting as might be the prospect of a world of lovely plants and animals, savaging each other, and crowding every living niche.)
So the Eye went back to Osiris, and balefully (lovingly say all those who are so terrified of the god that they say, "bad is good, shit is shine, destruct is construct"). And in fact this is so, because as the intelligence of homo schizo developed out of catastrophe, he created good and evil without discrimination, sorting the two out by various peculiar means depending upon the hundreds of isolated cultures in the islands left to man by the mercy of the Lord of the Four Quarters.
Adam and Eve, you will recall, who had lived in the Garden of Eden, had brought forth Cain and Abel, and Cain, for reasons which were trivial, and probably provoked by boredom, had killed Abel, the good one, and had to pull up stakes.
Significantly, Cain, much more than Abel, was marvelously productive, a real schizophrenic, just as Victor Hugo sings of in his poem on "Conscience", and, pursued by the Eye of God, desperately and anxiously and fearfully and guiltily, procreates and builds a fine city with the aid of his offspring, creates the arts and the industries, yet could not rid himself ever of the Eye.
The Eye is his conscience that plagues him into the grave, follows him, spies upon him, curses him with the guilt of mankind, represented in the murder of his brother.
All was not well in the skies. Seth destroyed Osiris (who we must remember was Saturn and Kronos, overturned, bound up, and put away forever at a safe distance by his rebellious children led by Jupiter-Zeus). Now the Eye of Saturn-Osiris was lost to him in the Egyptian version of history because Seth tore him to pieces.
But Horus (Jupiter) bested Seth in a great Theophany, wrested the Eye from him and returned it to the reconstructed Osiris (Saturn); yet, since he was now King of the Gods, he took it back at the same time and it became the eye of Horus, who is Jupiter, who is Zeus, and, yes, who is Yahweh, Elohim having been Saturn. And you Know what the Eye of Yahweh is like; you had better know it or Else..! This, My Children, is both Myth and History!
Hathor-Venus-Minerva-Maat: the Eye is still of the destructive Hathor, who, the great scholars, puzzled, say, is such a nice gentle cow in her other manifestations. Yes, the cow that "jumped over the Moon," of which I have written elsewhere, a story of eccentric behavior on the part of the planets that is incorporated and transmitted in human memory through the children's poem.
Why were the Freemasons so impelled in their search for the truth, Maat, that they resurrected the Egyptian mysteries, enshrined them in place of the Catholic and any other religion that happened to be around, and also into any secular setting?
How well I know that in the United States of America, in whose study I am specialized (It is my cover as World Spy), my hero Benjamin Franklin, the great scientist, electrician, printer, writer, don juan, ambassador, quaker, revolutionary and the sanest crazy of American history, with the help of his fellow Masons took the Eye of Saturn and placed it atop the Great Pyramid of Cheops as an electric light, and this imposing combination they implanted into the Great Seal of the United States of America.
Whereupon the Great Seal was implanted into the design of the American Dollar, the Almighty Dollar. Where it is also said, in defiance of the Constitution that forbids any arm of government to act in any way to favor the establishment of any religion, "In God We Trust."
And Hjalmar von Brentano had better watch out too. It is serious enough that he worked so long and productively with Marx, Christoph, that is. Not only do his ideas on Venus and ancient chronology make sense, but so do his radical historical reconstructions of the money, monotheism, and of the subjection of women.
All three of these senses can be most disturbing to the policing part of the Swiss mentality, never mind the Russian and the rest of them, as damaging as Marx's computer raids if one can believe what has been said about these by the authorities. Their Eye of Saturn would gleam balefully upon him, if Marx had not meanwhile made off with it.
Yet, manifold are the effects of the Eye of Saturn! The self-same Masons in their infamous Italian Lodge included high officials of the Vatican (to which Freemasonry was supposed to substitute as a secular and Maat religion!), high officers of the Republic of Italy, Industrialists, Militarists, and Bankers, which, when its edges were exposed caused some turbulence in the international banking community, in Switzerland as well as in Italy and America. Its well-positioned members could stretch anywhere in the country, and, indeed, throughout the world.
Yet here is Christoph Marx, as well I know, who is also acquainted with the Eye of Saturn and Maat and Venus-Hathor-Ishtar, and the holocausts and destruction of mankind. Is there recurring in the secret recesses of the secret police some Masonic conspiracy, some opposition to the "wrongful use" of ancient symbols by Marx, some effort to interject the Masonic Order into the Soviet Union via the return, ostensibly through expulsion, of two important diplomats in less than a year, both perhaps for their associations with said C. Marx, computer expert?
Perhaps Marx himself is a Mason of a lodge friendly to P2, whose job it was to liaise with the Russians a) to infiltrate Freemasonry into the USSR, b) to draw the USSR into lending its financial weight and operations to strengthen the tentacles of P2, c) to develop a computer communications network to knit together the far-flung interests, and d) to connect with the Vatican in the drive to regain Holy Catholic Eastern Europe. Who better to handle this all than a Swiss named Christoph Marx who is a computer expert?
Or perhaps Marx is feared by the Masons for exposing the bankers of Free-Masonry; hence, the police were used against him. This time he is an innocent cover, a disliked victim for reasons that were given earlier, to get the Soviet pair back to the Soviet Union under the best of excuses, expulsion, where they work on behalf of the Free-Mason conspiracy (and/or the C.I.A., which has been known to work through Free-Masonry).
Or, more likely, an International Banking Conspiracy, inspired by Free-Masons, intends to set up large credit connections with the Soviet government using the "free" Swiss banking system, instead of the meddling, officious, pound-of-flesh-extracting state-tool American and NATO-governed bankers.
This is not to say that the Swiss bank connection here is acting alone; rather it is acting as front, manager, and participant in connection with the conspiratorial consortium that seeks a large part of the Soviet world banking business, the world's largest bank account.
There is still one more possible turn of the screw. Both the Vatican and the Soviets have banking needs. Both are old fashioned believers in the gold standard. The heads of both speak Russian. What better way for the Vatican to finance its six-billion-dollar current annual deficit than through a loan guarantee of the Soviets, in return for helping the Soviets to manage their much more huge foreign obligations and trade, processed through the confidential and reliable Swiss banking combine. A tailor-made job for the conspiratorial types who were involved in the Italian Masonic Lodge. (And, did you notice, at the same time, that Gorbachev proposed the restoration of the right to free religious practice in the Soviet Union?).
How silly can you get? Hah! Read Peter Wright's best-selling Spycatcher: there on page 187 you see him, the incoming James Bond of MI5 being counselled by an old woman employee, "Are you a Freemason?" ...No... "I didn't think you looked like one, but you better join if you want to be a success in this place."
I do not pretend to omniprescience, but, just as one's imagination seems to be extending too far, one sees well ahead of him on the road of improbable fantasy, those realities now called by the name of Watergate and Irangate. It is impossibly fantastic that top officials of the US government should become involved in contracting with its mortal enemy, Iran, to give it some of its most advanced weaponry in return for the (unaccomplished) release of American hostages and cash that was secretly and illegally used to support Rebel Contras against the incumbent Nicaraguan government. Shades of Casey! He shall be invoked on the Marx Affair. Shades of Lenny Siegel's blind stab concerning the bank records of Irangate!
The Italian P2 case is quite as fantastic, should you not know it already. P2 stood for an astonishing Lodge of Free-Masons whose Venerable Master was Licio Gelli. Police and reporter-investigators Calvi and Schmidt have declared, "An informer for the Nazis during the Second World War, he became an agent for the East promptly upon the cessation of hostilities, in order to save his skin." He operated a bookstore that was a rendezvous and mail-box for Redlands agents, and later ran a business trading with the East.
He began mysteriously to cultivate mysterious contacts in a mysterious way, as a Mason. Before long he was compiling great lists of good guys and bad guys, a sure way to attract authoritarians and authorities, men who "fight fire with fire," "crime" with crime.
"The most secret of secrets deal with the handling of secrets."
It is not at all uncommon for a spy to spend all of his time trying to get the name of another guy who spends all of his time trying to discover the name of the first guy. If they both succeed, the game is annulled and it starts over, perhaps with replacements. If one succeeds, the other moves, and the first finds a new partner to play with.
Gelli's thousand-member Lodge was filled with the ambitious, the fearful, and the fascistic. He out-did all American hit-lists and red-lists known to me, and the Italian despionage system respected him and worked with him, leading their country into dyspionage.
Many crimes of conspiracy, blackmail, murder, terrorism, corruption of officials, abortive coups d'état, and illegal influence were laid to him. Following upon secret accusations (probably by Members who had joined to betray him), the Italian prosecutors got after him.
In Geneva, Swiss police, tipped off by the Italian police, arrested him as he was withdrawing a mere $120,000,000 from a numbered bank account at the Union des banques Suisse. Regarded as Switzerland's most important prisoner, he was nevertheless trundled out of jail in a box by one of his jailers shortly thereafter, and went underground in France and elsewhere for some time.
Finding that his health had deteriorated, he returned to Geneva (where medical services are first-class) and turned himself in. The Swiss did not have much on him and he was turned over to the Italians, who in turn found his health poor and let him out just recently.
It is doubtful that any important crime could ever be pinned on him. To my view he served as the vortex of the sewers of the secretive mind, where the dyspionage of society begins.
Chris Marx had a friend who was so incensed by what he regarded as the imbalance of justice in Chris' regard that he wanted to give up his Swiss citizenship and return to his original Italian status. He had bought a telefax from Chris; a man's best friends are his customers, you might say. His name is that of the greatest motorcar ever built, so maybe you will know it.
He lives in old St. Louis, not of the Blues but cozying up to Basle. It's a nice town to live in because it's nowhere and everywhere. The Basle Airport is actually the St. Louis Airport. (Charles Lindbergh's Spirit of St. Louis, by the way, which carried him solo across the Atlantic, was named for his Masonic lodge in that city.)
There in an English basement lives our friend. Now hear this: He was a secret agent for the Vatican (Doesn't that surprise you? Shades of Father Morlion, and all the Jesuits who stole and lost secrets with their Masonic counterparts!) He was fired, probably because he was crazy in an un-Catholic way. Or possibly he was a Member of Lodge P2.
Whereupon he was appointed to what is not the most promising of jobs in the world, but this is a changeable world. He became Prime Minister of the Yugoslav Government in Exile, and was dubbed Prince of Dubrovnik!
Pending the restoration of his fiefs, he is a redoubtable consultant on many accounts, not the least of which is that he maintains secret relations with gossipy Vaticaners (-ians, -ists, -i?). While he was with the Vatican, he afforded Chris a handclasp of Pope John-Paul and an opportunity to present to the Pope the Great Chart of the Holocaust, Collective Amnesia, the Origins of Religion, the Responsibility of the Western nations, and the Reconstruction of Society and Chronology. Each year the gift in its latest version is renewed through the Prince of Dubrovnik.
The effects were not notable. Still, inside the Vatican (whose inner offices I have visited a couple of times), dwell some of the fullest, savant, and comprehending minds of the world. Who knows whether a tiny effect will have been registered.
What teeny-tiny effect have you had upon the world recently? "Well," say you, "I may be inane, but I am not insane, nor a spy or an agent provocateur."
Says I, "You finance them, you read about them, you believe in them! Ergo, you are one of them."
So does President Reagan, via Mrs. Reagan, via her Astrologer, who sees to it that their Venus Spy-Trap is serviced daily.
But, do you know, the myth, the connection, the Venus Spy-Trap, the Eye, does not begin or end with the Freemasons. The Eye of Saturn is the Eye of the Great Dragon, the Serpent affixed to the Egyptian Crown, the Uraeus Viper. It is the Dragon of Uranus, an aggressive destroyer, none other than the cometary Venus, and the Chinese Dragon who symbolizes catastrophized luck, like Venus.
The Pharaohs wore the image of the Uraeus Eye on their forehead, too. Without it they must die, and when they die, or before they die, the World bursts into disorder and the Snake-Eye disappears and must be sought after.
"Come on, Snake-eyes!" I used to pray against my opponents shooting craps on the brown wool blanket on the Old Army barracks floor. Bad luck to crap out on the first cast!
When the Eye is loosed, the world is destroyed; when returned to its place, law and order are restored. Marx is Seth, with his insistence upon Venus amok, the Comet wildly snaking through the heavens, the Goddess in her disastrous phase, the Seven Plagues, the Holocaust.
The Eye must be taken from him and replaced on the Forehead of the Majesty of the State, the Third Eye, the Sovereign God of Switzerland, the one that provides the cows of Hathor and the stars of Venus and the Mountains of Olympus, so that law and order will be regained.
Dyspionage includes the disorders of the Eye of Saturn: it has all the world turned patrimaniac and paranoid, everyone spying on everyone else, and imagining all the others to be spies. It cannot be much of a surprise to you that I am growing a bumper crop of paranoid symptoms, though I may call them hypotheses, guesses, speculations, musings, wonderings, cogitations, thoughts, reflections, pensées, suggestions, ideas, hunches, shots in the dark.
We are all paranoid schizoids to begin with, as specimens of homo sapiens schizotypicalis. Instead of inching away into lovely sublimations of this syndrome, we edge toward the pure essence and putrescence of espionage, dyspionage, mingling our vital fluids with the digestive juices of the Venus Spy-trap.
So we must dissent: Away with the Eye of Saturn, whether carried around the world or fixed on the forehead of a divine ruler! If we can learn to live without it, we shall be freed of the toils of dyspionage.
You may say that this is all implausible, including the ending -- pure cinema!
Who are you to say that it is implausible?
I say that it is plausible.
And cinema as well. Why not?