Robert Anton Wilson’s Take on War on Drugs

In an inter­view to dis­in­for­ma­tion the great Robert Anton Wil­son:Robert Anton Wilson‘There are two kinds of crimes. Crimes which every­body agrees are a crime, that’s crimes with vic­tims. If I get mugged or bur­glar­ized or some­body in my fam­ily gets hurt or killed I want the police tod o some­thing about it and I’m eager to coop­er­ate with them and so is every­body else of a sound and ratio­nal mind. We don’t want bur­glars and thieves and mug­gers and mur­ders run­ning around loose. On the other hand, when you’re try­ing to con­trol vic­tim­less crime, nobody is very eager to help the police.

Peo­ple who are smok­ing pot aren’t eager to turn them­selves in and their friends aren’t eager to turn them in, either, in most cases. The whores don’t want to turn in the Johns; the Johns don’t want to turn in the whores. The gam­blers don’t wnat to turn in the bet­tors; the bet­tors don’t want to turn in the book­ies and so on. Nobody wants to do any­thing about vic­tim­less crimes, mean­ing things that peo­ple do con­sen­su­ally that they want to do and that they’re enjoy­ing doing and there’s no vic­tim to be found any­where. So nobody wnats to help the police, ergo, the only way you can  wage a war against sin –which is want these vic­tim­less cri­imes laws are all about– the only way you can wage a war like that is by spy­ing on every­body more and more, cre­at­ing the appa­ra­tus of a total­i­tar­ian state, which means higher and higher taxes. This is why so many con­ser­v­a­tives lately are com­ing out in favor of end­ing the war on drugs: it’s get­ting so god­damned expensive.

The only way the gov­er­ment has any chance at all of win­ning is to estab­lish a total­i­tar­i­an­ism wack­ier and more total than Orwell’s 1984. We’ve already got the ‘Piss Police’ which is some­thing that Orwell dind’t even dream of. Even Franz Kafka couldn’t imag­ine a soci­ety so crazy that you have to give urine sam­ples before you can hold a job! There’s no way of win­ning with­out total­i­tar­i­an­ism far beyond any­thing ever prac­ticed by Hitler or Stalin or imag­ined by the wildest satirist. That’s the only way they can win. And that costs too damned much money. The peo­ple who are run­ning it, they’re not try­ing to win. They know they can’t win; they just want to keep the war going because it makes money for everyone.

It’s a won­der­ful excuse to increase police power and sur­veil­lance so that they know every­thing that we’re doing so that nobody can be plot­ting sub­ver­sion of any sort with­out them know­ing about it. Like the old joke goes, ‘When four men sit down to plot against the gov­er­ment, three of them are gov­er­ment agents and the fourth is a damned fool’. Well that’s get­ting more and more true all the time. The war on drugs is an excuse for more sur­veil­lance. They’re scared stiff of us. They’re more afraid of us than we are of them’.


Happy Birthday Franz Kafka

Franz Kafka was born in Prague on July 3, 1883 — 129 years ago today.

The first book from Kafka that I read was The Meta­mor­pho­sis and I loved it greatly, how­ever at the time I was not aware of the main theme behind most of his writings: “The Absurd.” Then I watch the movie The Trial based on the book by the same name of Kafka, and then it click. Te trial is a fright­en­ing exam­ple of the absur­dity of the human condition.

In The Myth of Sisy­phus,”  Albert Camus dis­cusses the works of Kafka. Accord­ing to him, Kafka’s works are per­fect exam­ples of what he terms “The Absurd.”

Here are some pas­sages from Camus Essay “Hope and the absurd in the Work of Franz Kafka”

The whole art of Kafka con­sists in forc­ing the reader to reread. His end­ings, or his absence of end­ings, sug­gest expla­na­tions which, how­ever, are not revealed in clear lan­guage but, before they seem jus­ti­fied, require that the story be reread from another point of view. This is what the author wanted.

But it would be wrong to try to inter­pret every­thing in Kafka in detail. Noth­ing is harder to under­stand than a sym­bolic work. A sym­bol always tran­scend the one who makes use of it and makes him say in real­ity more than he is aware of expressing.

There is in the human con­di­tion a basic absur­dity as well as implaca­ble nobility.

In The Trial, Joseph K. is accused. But he doesn’t know of what. He is doubt­less eager to defend him­self, but he doesn’t know why. The lawyers find his case dif­fi­cult. Mean­while, he does not neglect to love, to eat, or to read his paper. Then hi is judged. But the court­room is very dark. He doesn’t under­stand much. He merely assumes that he is con­demned, but to what he barely won­ders. At times he sus­pects just the same, and he con­tin­ues liv­ing. Some time later two well-dressed and polite gen­tle­men come to get him and invite him to fol­low them. Most cour­te­ously they lead him into a wretched sub­urb, put his head on a stone, and slit his throat. Before dying the con­demned man says merely: “Like a dog.”

Camus is pri­mar­ily drawn to Kafka’s works because of the lucid­ity with which they present the fun­da­men­tal dilemma that for him defines absurd rea­son­ing. On the one hand, Camus says we hope to find some meaning—or God, or order, or explanation—in the uni­verse, and on the other hand, we are faced with a sense­less mul­ti­plic­ity of things that do not orga­nize them­selves in any way that promises an answer. (Q)

I’m going to leave you with a short ani­mated film by direc­tor Piotr Dumala enti­tled “Franz Kafka” that resem­bles very well the suf­fo­cat­ing worlds cre­ated by Kafka in his writings.