For the few who have ever picked up the smallish volume by Niccolo Machiavelli, “The Prince” in our time where the mask of Xenophon is worn by Leo Strauss who puts forth an abstracted version of a type of ‘categorical imperative’ as defined by amoral aims of the ruling state the conflict is internal. There is no hamlet within broadcasting distance or unreachable to sight of drone or satellite that allows for the unfettered traffic of human kind. The resultant phenomena upon the psyche is to come to terms with this panopticon by a total surrender of the overt exercise of demonstrable power coupled with a seclusion of thought. The era of the computer and remote viewing have left our century without an authentic voice.
The only voices heard being of course officially sanctioned by a certain level of ritual pomp and circumstance in technological staging as with ‘reality TV’ or a paid spokesperson performing rhetorical Kabuki with other similarly well-trained functionaries. We look in the mirror of our most significant objects and see an imitation of avatars that in no way resemble us or match the animal problems posed by our respective identities. The onus is upon the ‘us’ to conform to this fictional portrayal and consume that which will aid the fiction that ‘they’ are ‘we’. The traditional common sense mentality of one group pitted territorially against another is superseded by a more elegant system of governance that pits ourselves against our ‘selves’. This engenders of a plethora of fears of discovery, of misunderstanding, of exclusion, of summary expulsion, and eventually destruction. The soothing notion of imbibing that metaphoric soma of a commercially enriched waking coma that describes the experience of ‘everyday life’ being considered the most secure form of safe haven. To disappear from the radar screen rather than to assert one’s will to demand control of the right to guide one’s own existence becomes the immoral center.
The trough between the regions of frontal and parietal lobes of the human brain now patrolled by the inclusion of state sponsored paranoia keeping the conscious from acknowledging the once potent unconscious. Like the frontier of any occupied territory, all natural impulses are checked and routinely suppressed at this metaphoric guard house. The difference between waking physical reality and the mental ruminations within the id being that ‘we’ not only stand before the border guards but we look back upon ourselves from behind the machine gun. The need to conform for survival’s sake preventing any substantive action that would contradict official edicts when posed in proper ‘newspeak’ idiom of Frankfurt School political correctness. Thus ‘WE’ are incarcerated by ourselves.