Douglas Rushkoff
Medium.com
ropaganda used to mean getting people to believe stuff. Now it means getting them to question what they believe or whether there’s any truth at all. However disorienting this is, it may not be all bad.
Levitate the Pentagon as an act of protest. Publish conspiracy stories about Jackie Kennedy walking in on Lyndon Johnson sexually abusing the exit wound in JFK’s head when his body was being transported back to Washington, DC.
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Medium.com
ropaganda used to mean getting people to believe stuff. Now it means getting them to question what they believe or whether there’s any truth at all. However disorienting this is, it may not be all bad.
The
term “propaganda” originally referred to a 17th-century committee of
Roman Catholic cardinals that sought to propagate the religion through
foreign missions — the marginally and only temporarily benevolent face
of European colonialism. In modern times, public relations guru Ed Bernays
revived the term to describe the way Woodrow Wilson’s administration
convinced Americans to support U.S. involvement in World War I.
Propaganda was about telling the same story through so many media
channels at once that there appeared to be only one story.
Today,
however, the primary goal of government propaganda is to undermine our
faith in everything. Not just our belief in particular stories in the
news, but our trust in the people who are telling the stories, the
platforms, and fact-based reality itself. Facts are, after all, the enemy of beliefs.
What
many of us forget is that this new style of influence through
disorientation is really an appropriation of the counterculture’s
techniques. This is what the Situationists were doing. So were the hippies and “heads” of the 1960s.
Before
Watergate anyway, it felt as if the press and the government were on the
same side, telling the same story to us all. There was no way for the
underfunded counterculture to compete with mainstream reality
programming—except by undermining its premises. The flower children
couldn’t overwhelm Richard Nixon’s National Guard troops, but they could
put daisies in the barrels of their rifles.
Taken to the extreme, this sort of activist satire became Operation Mindfuck, first announced in 1968 by Robert Anton Wilson and Robert Shea in their Illuminatus Trilogy. The
idea was to undermine people’s faith in government, authority, and the
sanctity of consensus reality itself by pranking everything, all the
time.
The
idea of Operation Mindfuck was to break the trance that kept America at
war, blindly consuming, and oblivious to its impact on the rest of the
world. Destabilize the dominant cultural narrative through pranks and
confusion. Say things that may or may not be true — but probably not.
But maybe.
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