Mind Games
Truth. KISS (keep it simple stupid)
Just a thought.
Discount tinfoil hats or shielding (doesn't work), gang-stalking* and direct energy weapons** that cause physical torture.
Focus, instead, on transmitting beta waves capable of reproducing voices and physical pain, etc. in a human subject.
It's all about alpha and beta waves.
Think of it this way. Hook your mind up to an EEG. Prick your toe with a needle, record the corresponding beta waves, then playback the digital waves into a person's head and they will feel as if their toe was just pricked with a needle with no needle involved, whatsoever. The same could be said of voices inside your head. Make sense?
They're trying to convince you of everything but the truth. And the truth is very, very simple.
Anjin Hawke
* It's simply an induced paranoia state brought on by masters of mind manipulation. They are very good at convincing you that other people are involved, like friends, coworkers or passersby. Why would they gang-stalk you in the first place?
** You cannot use a direct energy weapon on a
single person. They're designed to impact crowds, not individuals
surrounded by other people.
* * *
New
on the Internet: a community of people who believe the government is
beaming voices into their minds. They may be crazy (most aren't), but the Pentagon has
pursued a weapon that can do just that.
Washington Post
By Sharon Weinberger
Sunday, January 14, 2007; Page W22
If Harlan Girard is crazy, he doesn't act the part.
He is standing just where he said he would be, below the Philadelphia
train station's World War II memorial – a soaring statue of a winged
angel embracing a fallen combatant, as if lifting him to heaven.
Girard is wearing pressed khaki pants, expensive-looking leather
loafers and a crisp blue button-down. He looks like a local
businessman dressed for a casual Friday – a local businessman with a
wickedly dark sense of humor, which had become apparent when he said to
look for him beneath "the angel sodomizing a dead soldier." At 70, he
appears robust and healthy – not the slightest bit disheveled or
unusual-looking. He is also carrying a bag.
Girard's
description of himself is matter-of-fact, until he explains what's in
the bag: documents he believes prove that the government is attempting
to control his mind. He carries that black, weathered bag everywhere
he goes. "Every time I go out, I'm prepared to come home and find
everything is stolen," he says.
The
bag aside, Girard appears intelligent and coherent. At a table in front
of Dunkin' Donuts inside the train station, Girard opens the bag and
pulls out a thick stack of documents, carefully labeled and sorted
with yellow sticky notes bearing neat block print. The documents are
an authentic-looking mix of news stories, articles culled from
military journals and even some declassified national security
documents that do seem to show that the U.S. government has attempted
to develop weapons that send voices into people's heads.
"It's
undeniable that the technology exists," Girard says, "but if you go to
the police and say, 'I'm hearing voices,' they're going to lock you up
for psychiatric evaluation."
The
thing that's missing from his bag – the lack of which makes it hard to
prove he isn't crazy – is even a single document that would buttress
the implausible notion that the government is currently targeting a
large group of American citizens with mind-control technology. The
only direct evidence for that, Girard admits, lies with alleged
victims such as himself.
And of those, there are many.
It's 9:01 P.M. when the first person speaks during the Saturday conference call.
Unsure
whether anyone else is on the line yet, the female caller throws out
the first question: "You got gang stalking or V2K?" she asks no one in
particular.
There's a short, uncomfortable pause.
"V2K, really bad. 24-7," a man replies.
"Gang stalking," another woman says.
"Oh, yeah, join the club," yet another man replies.
The
members of this confessional "club" are not your usual victims. This
isn't a group for alcoholics, drug addicts or survivors of childhood
abuse; the people connecting on the call are self-described
victims of mind control – people who believe they have been targeted
by a secret government program that tracks them around the clock,
using technology to probe and control their minds.
The
callers frequently refer to themselves as TIs, which is short for
Targeted Individuals, and talk about V2K – the official military
abbreviation stands for "voice to skull"
and denotes weapons that beam voices or sounds into the head. In
their esoteric lexicon, "gang stalking" refers to the belief that they
are being followed and harassed: by neighbors, strangers or colleagues
who are agents for the government.
A
few more "hellos" are exchanged, interrupted by beeps signaling late
arrivals: Bill from Columbus, Barbara from Philadelphia, Jim from
California and a dozen or so others.
Derrick Robinson, the conference call moderator, calls order.
"It's
five after 9," says Robinson, with the sweetly reasonable intonation of
a late-night radio host. "Maybe we should go ahead and start."
The idea of a group of people convinced they are targeted by
weapons
that can invade their minds has become a cultural joke,
shorthanded by the image of solitary lunatics wearing tinfoil hats to
deflect invisible mind beams. "Tinfoil hat," says Wikipedia, has
become "a popular stereotype and term of derision; the phrase serves
as a byword for paranoia and is associated with conspiracy theorists."
In
2005, a group of MIT students conducted a formal study using aluminum
foil and radio signals. Their surprising finding: Tinfoil hats may
actually amplify radio frequency signals. Of course, the tech students
meant the study as a joke.
But
during the Saturday conference call, the subject of aluminum foil is
deadly serious. The MIT study had prompted renewed debate; while a few
TIs realized it was a joke at their expense, some saw the findings as
an explanation for why tinfoil didn't seem to stop the voices. Others
vouched for the material.
"Tinfoil
helps tremendously," reports one conference call participant, who
describes wrapping it around her body underneath her clothing.
"Where do you put the tinfoil?" a man asks.
"Anywhere, everywhere," she replies. "I even put it in a hat."
A
TI in an online mind-control forum recommends a Web site called "Block
EMF" (as in electromagnetic frequencies), which advertises a full line
of clothing, including aluminum-lined boxer shorts described as a
"sheer, comfortable undergarment you can wear over your regular one to
shield yourself from power lines and computer electric fields, and
microwave, radar, and TV radiation." Similarly, a tinfoil hat
disguised as a regular baseball cap is "smart and subtle."
For
all the scorn, the ranks of victims – or people who believe they are
victims – are speaking up. In the course of the evening, there are as
many as 40 clicks from people joining the call, and much larger
numbers participate in the online forum, which has 143 members. A note there mentioning interest from a journalist prompted more than 200 e-mail responses.
Until
recently, people who believe the government is beaming voices into
their heads would have added social isolation to their catalogue of
woes. But now, many have discovered hundreds, possibly
thousands, of others just like them all over the world. Web sites
dedicated to electronic harassment and gang stalking have popped up in
India, China, Japan, South Korea, the United Kingdom, Russia and
elsewhere. Victims have begun to host support meetings in major
cities, including Washington. Favorite topics at the meetings include
lessons on how to build shields (the proverbial tinfoil hats), media
and PR training, and possible legal strategies for outlawing mind
control.
The
biggest hurdle for TIs is getting people to take their concerns
seriously. A proposal made in 2001 by Rep. Dennis Kucinich (D-Ohio) to
ban "
psychotronic weapons"
(another common term for mind-control technology) was hailed by TIs
as a great step forward. But the bill was widely derided by bloggers
and columnists and quickly dropped.
Doug
Gordon, Kucinich's spokesman, would not discuss mind control other than
to say the proposal was part of broader legislation outlawing weapons
in space. The bill was later reintroduced, minus the mind control.
"It was not the concentration of the legislation, which is why it was
tightened up and redrafted," was all Gordon would say.
Unable
to garner much support from their elected representatives, TIs have
started their own PR campaign. And so, last spring, the Saturday
conference calls centered on plans to hold a rally in Washington. A
2005 attempt at a rally drew a few dozen people and was ultimately
rained out; the TIs were determined to make another go of it.
Conversations focused around designing T-shirts, setting up
congressional appointments, fundraising, creating a new Web site and
formalizing a slogan. After some debate over whether to focus on gang
stalking or mind control, the group came up with a compromise slogan
that covered both: "Freedom From Covert Surveillance and Electronic
Harassment."
Conference
call moderator Robinson, who says his gang stalking began when he
worked at the National Security Agency in the 1980s, offers his
assessment of the group's prospects: Maybe this rally wouldn't produce
much press, but it's a first step. "I see this as a movement," he
says. "We're picking up people all the time."
Harlan Girard says his problems began in 1983,
while he was a real estate developer in Los Angeles. The harassment
was subtle at first: One day a woman pulled up in a car, wagged her
finger at him, then sped away; he saw people running underneath his
window at night; he noticed some of his neighbors seemed to be
watching him; he heard someone moving in the crawl space under his
apartment at night.
Girard
sought advice from this then-girlfriend, a practicing psychologist,
whom he declines to identify. He says she told him, "Nobody can become
psychotic in their late 40s." She said he didn't seem to manifest
other symptoms of psychotic behavior – he dressed well, paid his bills
– and, besides his claims of surveillance, which sounded paranoid, he
behaved normally. "People who are psychotic are socially isolated,"
he recalls her saying.
After
a few months, Girard says, the harassment abruptly stopped. But the
respite didn't last. In 1984, appropriately enough, things got seriously
weird. He'd left his real estate career to return to school at the
University of Pennsylvania, where he was studying for a master's
degree in landscape architecture. He harbored dreams of designing
parks and public spaces. Then, he says, he began to hear voices.
Girard could distinguish several different male voices, which came
complete with a mental image of how the voices were being generated:
from a recording studio, with "four slops sitting around a card table
drinking beer," he says.
The voices were crass but also strangely courteous, addressing him as "Mr. Girard."
They
taunted him. They asked him if he thought he was normal; they suggested
he was going crazy. They insulted his classmates: When an overweight
student showed up for a field trip in a white raincoat, they said,
"Hey, Mr. Girard, doesn't she look like a refrigerator?"
Six
months after the voices began, they had another question for him: "Mr.
Girard, Mr. Girard. Why aren't you dead yet?" At first, he recalls,
the voices would speak just two or three times a day, but it escalated
into a near-constant cacophony, often accompanied by severe pain all
over his body – which Girard now attributes to directed-energy weapons
that can shoot invisible beams.
The
voices even suggested how he could figure out what was happening to
him. He says they told him to go to the electrical engineering
department to "tell them you're writing science fiction and you don't
want to write anything inconsistent with physical reality. Then tell
them exactly what has happened."
Girard went and got some rudimentary explanations of how technology could explain some of the things he was describing.
"Finally,
I said: 'Look, I must come to the point, because I need answers. This
is happening to me; it's not science fiction.'" They laughed.
He got the same response from friends, he says. "They regarded me as crazy, which is a humiliating experience."
When
asked why he didn't consult a doctor about the voices and the pain, he
says, "I don't dare start talking to people because of the potential
stigma of it all. I don't want to be treated differently. Here I was
in Philadelphia. Something was going on, I don't know any doctors . . .
I know somebody's doing something to me."
It
was a struggle to graduate, he says, but he was determined, and he
persevered. In 1988, the same year he finished his degree, his father
died, leaving Girard an inheritance large enough that he did not have
to work.
So,
instead of becoming a landscape architect, Girard began a full-time
investigation of what was happening to him, often traveling to
Washington in pursuit of government documents relating to mind
control. He put an ad in a magazine seeking other victims.
Only a few people responded. But over the years, as he met more and
more people like himself, he grew convinced that he was part of what
he calls an "electronic concentration camp."
What
he was finding on his research trips also buttressed his belief: Girard
learned that in the 1950s, the CIA had drugged unwitting victims with
LSD as part of a rogue mind-control experiment called MK-ULTRA.
He came across references to the CIA seeking to influence the mind
with electromagnetic fields. Then he found references in an academic
research book to work that military researchers at Walter Reed Army
Institute of Research had done in the 1970s with pulsed microwaves to transmit words that a subject would hear in his head. Elsewhere,
he came across references to attempts to use electromagnetic energy,
sound waves or microwave beams to cause non-lethal pain to the body. For
every symptom he experienced, he believed he found references to a
weapon that could cause it.
How much of the research Girard cites checks out?
Concerns about microwaves and mind control date to the 1960s, when the U.S. government discovered that its embassy in Moscow
was being bombarded by low-level electromagnetic radiation. In 1965,
according to declassified Defense Department documents, the Pentagon,
at the behest of the White House, launched Project Pandora, top-secret
research to explore the behavioral and biological effects of
low-level microwaves. For approximately four years, the Pentagon
conducted secret research: zapping monkeys; exposing unwitting sailors
to microwave radiation; and conducting a host of other unusual
experiments (a sub-project of Project Pandora was titled Project
Bizarre).
The
results were mixed, and the program was plagued by disagreements and
scientific squabbles. The "Moscow signal," as it was called, was
eventually attributed to eavesdropping, not mind control, and Pandora
ended in 1970. And with it, the military's research into so-called
non-thermal microwave effects seemed to die out, at least in the
unclassified realm.
But there are hints of ongoing research:
An
academic paper written for the Air Force in the mid-1990s mentions
the idea of a weapon that would use sound waves to send words into a
person's head. "The signal can be a 'message from God' that can warn the enemy of impending doom, or encourage the enemy to surrender," the author concluded.
In
2002, the Air Force Research Laboratory patented precisely such a
technology: using microwaves to send words into someone's head.
That work is frequently cited on mind-control Web sites. Rich Garcia, a
spokesman for the research laboratory's directed energy directorate,
declined to discuss that patent or current or related research in the
field, citing the lab's policy not to comment on its microwave work.
In
response to a Freedom of Information Act request filed for this
article, the Air Force released unclassified documents surrounding
that 2002 patent – records that note that the patent was based on
human experimentation in October 1994 at the Air Force lab, where
scientists were able to transmit phrases into the heads of human
subjects, albeit with marginal intelligibility. Research appeared to
continue at least through 2002. Where this work has gone since is
unclear – the research laboratory, citing classification, refused to
discuss it or release other materials.
The
official U.S. Air Force position is that there are no non-thermal
effects of microwaves. Yet Dennis Bushnell, chief scientist at NASA's
Langley Research Center, tagged microwave attacks against the human
brain as part of future warfare in a 2001 presentation to the National
Defense Industrial Association about "Future Strategic Issues."
"That work is exceedingly sensitive" and unlikely to be reported in any unclassified documents, he says.
Meanwhile, the military's use of weapons that employ electromagnetic radiation to create pain is well-known, as
are some of the limitations of such weapons. In 2001, the Pentagon
declassified one element of this research: the Active Denial System, a
weapon that uses electromagnetic radiation to heat skin and create an
intense burning sensation. So, yes, there is technology designed to beam painful invisible rays at humans, but the weapon seems to fall far short of what could account for many of the TIs' symptoms.
While
its exact range is classified, Doug Beason, an expert in
directed-energy weapons, puts it at about 700 meters, and the beam
cannot penetrate a number of materials, such as aluminum. Considering
the size of the full-scale weapon, which resembles a satellite dish,
and its operational limitations, the ability of the government or
anyone else to shoot beams at hundreds of people – on city streets, into
their homes and while they travel in cars and planes – is beyond
improbable.
But,
given the history of America's clandestine research, it's reasonable to
assume that if the defense establishment could develop mind-control
or long-distance ray weapons, it almost certainly would. And, once
developed, the possibility that they might be tested on innocent
civilians could not be categorically dismissed.
Girard, for his part, believes these weapons were not only developed but were also tested on him more than 20 years ago.
What
would the government gain by torturing him? Again, Girard found what he
believed to be an explanation, or at least a precedent:
During
the Cold War, the government conducted radiation experiments on
scores of unwitting victims, essentially using them as human guinea pigs. Girard came to believe that he, too, was a walking experiment.
Not
that Girard thinks his selection was totally random: He believes he was
targeted because of a disparaging remark he made to a Republican
fundraiser about George H.W. Bush in the early 1980s. Later, Girard
says, the voices confirmed his suspicion.
"One
night I was going to bed; the usual drivel was going on," he says. "The
constant stream of drivel. I was just about to go to bed, and a voice
says: 'Mr. Girard, do you know who was in our studio with us? That
was George Bush, vice president of the United States.'"
Girard's story, however strange,
reflects what TIs around the world report: a chance encounter with
a government agency or official, followed by surveillance and gang
stalking, and then, in many cases, voices, and pain similar to electric
shocks. Some in the community have taken it upon themselves to
document as many cases as possible. One TI from California conducted
about 50 interviews, narrowing the symptoms down to several major
areas: "ringing in the ears," "manipulation of body parts," "hearing
voices," "piercing sensation on skin," "sinus problems" and "sexual
attacks." In fact, the TI continued, "many report the sensation of
having their genitalia manipulated."
Both
male and female TIs report a variety of "attacks" to their sexual
organs. "My testicles became so sore I could barely walk," Girard says
of his early experiences. Others, however, report the attacks in the
form of sexual stimulation, including one TI who claims he dropped out
of the seminary after constant sexual stimulation by directed-energy
weapons. Susan Sayler, a TI in San Diego, says many women among the
TIs suffer from attacks to their sexual organs but are often
embarrassed to talk about it with outsiders.
"It's
sporadic, you just never know when it will happen," she says. "A lot of
the women say it's as soon as you lay down in bed – that's when you
would get hit the worst. It happened to me as I was driving, at odd
times."
What
made her think it was an electronic attack and not just in her head?
"There was no sexual attraction to a man when it would happen. That's
what was wrong. It did not feel like a muscle spasm or whatever," she
says. "It's so . . . electronic."
Gloria Naylor,
a renowned African American writer, seems to defy many of the
stereotypes of someone who believes in mind control. A winner of the
National Book Award, Naylor is best known for her acclaimed novel, The Women of Brewster Place, which described a group of women living in a poor urban neighborhood and was later made into a miniseries by Oprah Winfrey.
But in 2005, she published a lesser-known work, 1996, a semi-autobiographical book describing her experience as a TI.
"I didn't want to tell this story. It's going to take courage.
Perhaps more courage than I possess, but they've left me no
alternatives," Naylor writes at the beginning of her book. "I am in a
battle for my mind. If I stop now, they'll have won, and I will lose
myself." The book is coherent, if hard to believe. It's also marked by
disturbing passages describing how Jewish American agents were
responsible for Naylor's surveillance. "Of the many cars that kept
coming and going down my road, most were driven by Jews," she writes
in the book. When asked about that passage in a recent interview, she
defended her logic: Being from New York, she claimed, she can
recognize Jews.
Naylor
lives on a quiet street in Brooklyn in a majestic brownstone with an
interior featuring intricate woodwork and tasteful decorations that
attest to a successful literary career. She speaks about her situation
calmly, occasionally laughing at her own predicament and her struggle
with what she originally thought was mental illness. "I would observe
myself," she explains. "I would lie in bed while the conversations
were going on, and I'd ask: Maybe it is schizophrenia?"
Like
Girard, Naylor describes what she calls "street theater" – incidents
that might be dismissed by others as coincidental, but which Naylor
believes were set up. She noticed suspicious cars driving by her
isolated vacation home. On an airplane, fellow passengers mimicked her
every movement – like mimes on a street.
Voices
similar to those in Girard's case followed – taunting voices cursing
her, telling her she was stupid, that she couldn't write.
Expletive-laced language filled her head. Naylor sought help from a
psychiatrist and received a prescription for an antipsychotic drug.
But the medication failed to stop the voices, she says, which only
added to her conviction that the harassment was real.
For
almost four years, Naylor says, the voices prevented her from writing.
In 2000, she says, around the time she discovered the mind-control
forums, the voices stopped and the surveillance tapered off. It was
then that she began writing 1996 as a "catharsis."
Colleagues
urged Naylor not to publish the book, saying she would destroy her
reputation. But she did publish, albeit with a small publishing house.
The book was generally ignored by critics but embraced by TIs.
Naylor
is not the first writer to describe such a personal descent. Evelyn
Waugh, one of the great novelists of the 20th century, details similar
experiences in
The Ordeal of Gilbert Pinfold. Waugh's book, published in 1957, has eerie similarities to Naylor's.
Embarking
on a recuperative cruise, Pinfold begins to hear voices on the ship
that he believes are part of a wireless system capable of broadcasting
into his head; he believes the instigator recruited fellow passengers
to act as operatives; and he describes "performances" put on by
passengers directed at him yet meant to look innocuous to others.
Waugh
wrote his book several years after recovering from a similar episode
and realizing that the voices and paranoia were the result of
drug-induced hallucinations.
Naylor
... is now back at work on an historical novel she hopes will return
her to the literary mainstream. She remains convinced that she was
targeted by mind control. The many echoes of her ordeal she sees on
the mind-control forums reassure her she's not crazy, she says.
Of
course, some of the things she sees on the forum do strike her as
crazy. "But who I am to say?" she says. "Maybe I sound crazy to
somebody else."
Some TIs, such as Ed Moore, a young medical doctor,
take a slightly more skeptical approach. He criticizes what he
calls the "wacky claims" of TIs who blame various government agencies
or groups of people without any proof. "I have yet to see a claim of
who is behind this that has any data to support it," he writes.
Nonetheless,
Moore still believes the voices in his head are the result of mind
control and that the U.S. government is the most likely culprit. Moore
started hearing voices in 2003, just as he completed his medical
residency in anesthesiology; he was pulling an all-nighter studying
for board exams when he heard voices coming from a nearby house
commenting on him, on his abilities as a doctor, on his sanity. At
first, he thought he was simply overhearing conversations through
walls (much as Waugh's fictional alter ego first thought), but when no
one else could hear the voices, he realized they were in his head.
Moore went through a traumatic two years, including hospitalization for
depression with auditory hallucinations.
"One
tries to convince friends and family that you are being electronically
harassed with voices that only you can hear," he writes in an e-mail.
"You learn to stop doing that. They don't believe you, and they become
sad and concerned, and it amplifies your own depression when you have
voices screaming at you and your friends and family looking at you as
a helpless, sick, mentally unbalanced wreck."
He
says he grew frustrated with anti-psychotic medications meant to stop
the voices, both because the treatments didn't work and because
psychiatrists showed no interest in what the voices were telling him.
He began to look for some other way to cope.
"In
March of 2005, I started looking up support groups on the Internet," he
wrote. "My wife would cry when she would see these sites, knowing I
still heard voices, but I did not know what else to do." In 2006, he
says, his wife, who had stood by him for three years, filed for
divorce.
Moore,
like other TIs, is cautious about sharing details of his life. He
worries about looking foolish to friends and colleagues – but he says
that risk is ultimately worthwhile if he can bring attention to the
issue.
With
his father's financial help, Moore is now studying for an electrical
engineering degree at the University of Texas at San Antonio, hoping to
prove that V2K, the technology to send voices into people's heads, is
real. Being in school, around other people, helps him cope, he writes,
but the voices continue to taunt him.
Recently, he says, they told him: "We'll never stop [messing] with you."
A week before the TIs rally on the National Mall,
John Alexander, one of the people whom Harlan Girard holds
personally responsible for the voices in his head, is at a Chili's
restaurant in Crystal City explaining over a Philly cheese steak and
fries why the United States needs mind-control weapons.
A
former Green Beret who served in Vietnam, Alexander went on to a number
of national security jobs, and rubbed shoulders with prominent
military and political leaders.
Long known for taking an interest in exotic weapons, his 1980 article, "The New Mental Battlefield,"
published in the Army journal Military Review, is cited by
self-described victims as proof of his complicity in mind control.
Now retired from the government and living in Las Vegas, Alexander
continues to advise the military. He is in the Washington area that day
for an official meeting.
Beneath
a shock of white hair is the mind of a self-styled military thinker.
Alexander belongs to a particular set of Pentagon advisers who consider
themselves defense intellectuals, focusing on big-picture issues,
future threats and new capabilities. Alexander's career led him from
work on sticky foam that would stop an enemy in his or her tracks to
dalliances in paranormal studies and psychics, which he still defends
as operationally useful.
In
an earlier phone conversation, Alexander said that in the 1990s, when
he took part in briefings at the CIA, there was never any talk of
"mind control, or mind-altering drugs or technologies, or anything
like that."
According
to Alexander, the military and intelligence agencies were still
scared by the excesses of MK-ULTRA, the infamous CIA program that
involved, in part, slipping LSD to unsuspecting victims. "Until
recently, anything that smacked of [mind control] was extremely
dangerous" because Congress would simply take the money away, he said.
Alexander
acknowledged that "there were some abuses that took place," but added
that, on the whole, "I would argue we threw the baby out with the bath
water."
But
September 11, 2001, changed the mood in Washington, and some in the
national security community are again expressing interest in mind
control, particularly a younger generation of officials who weren't
around for MK-ULTRA. "It's interesting, that it's coming back,"
Alexander observed.
While
Alexander scoffs at the notion that he is somehow part of an elaborate
plot to control people's minds, he acknowledges support for learning
how to tap into a potential enemy's brain. He gives as an example the
possible use of functional magnetic resonance imaging, or fMRI, for
lie detection. "Brain mapping" with fMRI theoretically could allow
interrogators to know when someone is lying by watching for activity
in particular parts of the brain. For interrogating terrorists, fMRI
could come in handy, Alexander suggests. But any conceivable use of
the technique would fall far short of the kind of mind-reading TIs
complain about.
Alexander
also is intrigued by the possibility of using electronic means to
modify behavior. The dilemma of the war on terrorism, he notes, is that
it never ends. So what do you do with enemies, such as those at
Guantanamo: keep them there forever? That's impractical. Behavior
modification could be an alternative, he says.
"Maybe
I can fix you, or electronically neuter you, so it's safe to release
you into society, so you won't come back and kill me," Alexander says.
It's only a matter of time before technology allows that scenario to
come true, he continues. "We're now getting to where we can do that."
He pauses for a moment to take a bite of his sandwich. "Where does
that fall in the ethics spectrum? That's a really tough question."
When
Alexander encounters a query he doesn't want to answer, such as one
about the ethics of mind control, he smiles and raises his hands level
to his chest, as if balancing two imaginary weights. In one hand is
mind control and the sanctity of free thought – and in the other hand,
a tad higher – is the war on terrorism.
But
none of this has anything to do with the TIs, he says. "Just because
things are secret, people tend to extrapolate. Common sense does not
prevail, and even when you point out huge leaps in logic that just
cannot be true, they are not dissuaded."
What is it that brings someone, even an intelligent person,
to ascribe the experience of hearing disembodied voices to government weapons?
In her book, Abducted,
Harvard psychologist Susan Clancy examines a group that has striking
parallels to the TIs: people who believe they've been kidnapped by
aliens. The similarities are often uncanny: Would-be abductees
describe strange pains, and feelings of being watched or targeted. And
although the alleged abductees don't generally have auditory
hallucinations, they do sometimes believe that their thoughts are
controlled by aliens, or that they've been implanted with advanced
technology.
(On
the online forum, some TIs posted vociferous objections to the
parallel, concerned that the public finds UFOs even weirder than mind
control. "It will keep us all marginalized and discredited," one
griped.)
Clancy
argues that the main reason people believe they've been abducted by
aliens is that it provides them with a compelling narrative to explain
their perception that strange things have happened to them, such as
marks on their bodies (marks others would simply dismiss as bruises),
stimulation to their sexual organs (as the TIs describe) or feelings
of paranoia. "It's not just an explanation for your problems; it's a
source of meaning for your life," Clancy says.
In
the case of TIs, mind-control weapons are an explanation for the voices
they hear in their head. Socrates heard a voice and thought it was a
demon; Joan of Arc heard voices from God. As one TI noted in an
e-mail: "Each person undergoing this harassment is looking for the
solution to the problem. Each person analyzes it through his or her
own particular spectrum of beliefs. If you are a scientific-minded
person, then you will probably analyze the situation from that
perspective and conclude it must be done with some kind of electronic
devices. If you are a religious person, you will see it as a struggle
between the elements of whatever religion you believe in. If you are
maybe, perhaps more eccentric, you may think that it is alien in
nature."
Or,
if you happen to live in the United States in the early 21st century,
you may fear the growing power of the NSA, CIA and FBI.
Being
a victim of government surveillance is also, arguably, better than
being insane. In Waugh's novella based on his own painful experience,
when Pinfold concludes that hidden technology is being used to
infiltrate his brain, he "felt nothing but gratitude in his
discovery." Why? "He might be unpopular; he might be ridiculous; but
he was not mad."
Ralph
Hoffman, a professor of psychiatry at Yale who has studied auditory
hallucinations, regularly sees people who believe the voices are a part
of government harassment (others believe they are God, dead relatives
or even ex-girlfriends). Not all people who hear voices are
schizophrenic, he says, noting that people can hear voices
episodically in highly emotional states. What exactly causes these
voices is still unknown, but one thing is certain: People who think
the voices are caused by some external force are rarely dissuaded from
their delusional belief, he says. "These are highly emotional and
gripping experiences that are so compelling for them that ordinary
reality seems bland."
Perhaps
because the experience is so vivid, he says, even some of those who
improve through treatment merely decide the medical regimen somehow
helped protect their brain from government weapons.
Scott
Temple, a professor of psychiatry at Penn State University who has been
involved in two recent studies of auditory hallucinations, notes that
those who suffer such hallucinations frequently lack insight into
their illness. Even among those who do understand they are sick, "that
awareness comes and goes," he says. "People feel overwhelmed, and the
delusional interpretations return."
Back at the Philadelphia train station,
"handlers" had spoken to him only briefly – they weren't in the right
position to attack him, Girard surmises, based on the lack of voices.
Today, his conversation jumps more rapidly from one subject to the
next: victims of radiation experiments, his hatred of George H.W. Bush,
MK-ULTRA, his personal experiences.
Asked
about his studies at Penn, he replies by talking about his problems
with reading: "I told you, everything I write they dictate to me," he
says, referring again to the voices. "When I read, they're reading to
me. My eyes go across; they're moving my eyes down the line. They're
reading it to me. When I close the book, I can't remember a thing I
read. That's why they do it."
The
week before, Girard had pointed to only one person who appeared
suspicious to him – a young African American man reading a book; this
time, however, he hears more voices, which leads him to believe the
station is crawling with agents.
"Let's
change our location," Girard says after a while. "I'm sure they have
40 or 50 people in here today. I escaped their surveillance last time –
they won't let that happen again."
Asked
to explain the connection between mind control and the University of
Pennsylvania, which Girard alleges is involved in the conspiracy, he
begins to talk about defense contractors located near the Philadelphia
campus: "General Electric was right next to the parking garage; General
Electric Space Systems occupies a huge building right over there.
From that building, you could see into the studio where I was doing my
work most of the time. I asked somebody what they were doing there.
You know, it had to do with computers. GE Space Systems. They were
supposed to be tracking missile debris from this location . . . pardon
me. What was your question again?"
Yet
many parts of Girard's life seem to reflect that of any affluent
70-year-old bachelor. He travels frequently to France for extended
vacations and takes part in French cultural activities in
Philadelphia. He has set up a travel scholarship at the Cleveland
Institute of Art in the name of his late mother, who attended school
there (he changed his last name 27 years ago for "personal reasons"),
and he travels to meet the students who benefit from the fund.
And
while the bulk of his time is spent on his research and writing about
mind control, he has other interests. He follows politics and
describes outings with friends and family members with whom he doesn't
talk about mind control, knowing they would view it skeptically.
Girard
acknowledges that some of his experiences mirror symptoms of
schizophrenia, but asked if he ever worried that the voices might in
fact be caused by mental illness, he answers sharply with one word:
"No."
How, then, does he know the voices are real?
"How
do you know you know anything?" Girard replies. "How do you know I
exist? How do you know this isn't a dream you're having, from which
you'll wake up in a few minutes? I suppose that analogy is the closest
thing: You know when you have a dream. Sometimes it could be
perfectly lucid, but you know it's a dream."
The
very "realness" of the voices is the issue – how do you disbelieve
something you perceive as real? That's precisely what Hoffman, the Yale
psychiatrist, points out: So lucid are the voices that the sufferers –
regardless of their educational level or self-awareness – are unable
to see them as anything but real. "One thing I can assure you,"
Hoffman says, "is that for them, it feels real."
It looks like almost any other small political rally in Washington.
Posters adorn the gate on the southwest side of the Capitol Reflecting
Pool, as attendees set up a table with press materials, while
volunteers test a loudspeaker and set out coolers filled with bottled
water. The sun is out, the weather is perfect, and an eclectic
collection of people from across the country has gathered to protest
mind control.
There
is not a tinfoil hat to be seen. Only the posters and paraphernalia
hint at the unusual. "Stop USA electronic harassment," urges one poster.
"Directed Energy Assaults," reads another. Smaller signs in the shape
of tombstones say, "RIP MKULTRA." The main display, set in front of
the speaker's lectern has a more extended message: "HELP STOP HI-TECH
ASSAULT PSYCHOTRONIC TORTURE."
About
35 TIs show up for the June rally, in addition to a few friends and
family members. Speakers alternate between giving personal testimonials
and descriptions of research into mind-control technology. Most of the
gawkers at the rally are foreign tourists. A few hecklers snicker at
the signs, but mostly people are either confused or indifferent. The
articles on mind control at the table – from mainstream news magazines
– go untouched.
"How
can you expect people to get worked up over this if they don't care
about eavesdropping or eminent domain?" one man challenges after
stopping to flip through the literature. Mary Ann Stratton, who is
manning the table, merely shrugs and smiles sadly. There is no answer:
Everyone at the rally acknowledges it is an uphill battle.
In
general, the outlook for TIs is not good; many lose their jobs, houses
and family. Depression is common. But for many at the rally,
experiencing the community of mind-control victims seems to help.
One TI, a man who had been a rescue swimmer in the Coast Guard before
voices in his head sent him on a downward spiral, expressed the
solace he found among fellow TIs in a long e-mail to another TI: "I
think that the only people that can help are people going through the
same thing. Everyone else will not believe you, or they are possibly
involved."
In the end, though, nothing could help him enough. In August 2006, he would commit suicide.
But
at least for the day, the rally is boosting TI spirits. Girard, in what
for him is an ebullient mood, takes the microphone. A small crowd of
tourists gathers at the sidelines, listening with casual interest.
With the Capitol looming behind him, he reaches the crescendo of his
speech, rallying the attendees to remember an important thing: They
are part of a single community.
"I've
heard it said, 'We can't get anywhere because everyone's story is
different.' We are all the same," Girard booms. "You knew someone with
the power to commit you to the electronic concentration camp system."
Several
weeks after the rally, Girard shows up for a meeting with a reporter
at the stately Mayflower Hotel in Washington, where he has stayed
frequently over the two decades he has traveled to the capital to
battle mind control. He walks in with a lit cigarette, which he
apologetically puts out after a hotel employee tells him smoking isn't
allowed anymore. He is half an hour late – delayed, he says, by a
meeting on Capitol Hill. Wearing a monogrammed dress shirt and tie, he
looks, as always, serious and professional.
Girard
declines to mention whom on Capitol Hill he'd met with, other than to
say it was a congressional staffer. Embarrassment is likely a factor:
Girard readily acknowledges that most people he meets with, ranging
from scholars to politicians, ignore his entreaties or dismiss him as a
lunatic.
Lately, his focus is on
his Web site,
which he sees as the culmination of nearly a quarter-century of
research. When completed, it will contain more than 300 pages of
documents. What next? Maybe he'll move to France (there are victims
there, too), or maybe the U.S. government will finally just kill him, he
says.
Meanwhile, he is always searching for absolute proof that the government has decoded the brain. His latest interest is
LifeLog,
a project once funded by the Pentagon that he read about in Wired
News. The article described it this way: "The embryonic LifeLog
program would dump everything an individual does into a giant
database: every e-mail sent or received, every picture taken, every Web
page surfed, every phone call made, every TV show watched, every
magazine read. All of this – and more – would combine with information
gleaned from a variety of sources: a GPS transmitter to keep tabs on
where that person went, audiovisual sensors to capture what he or she
sees or says, and biomedical monitors to keep track of the
individual's health."
Girard
suggests that the government, using similar technology, has
"catalogued" his life over the past two years – every sight and sound
(Evelyn Waugh, in his mind-control book, writes about his character's
similar fear that his harassers were creating a file of his entire
life).
Girard
thinks the government can control his movements, inject thoughts into
his head, cause him pain day and night. He believes that he will die a
victim of mind control.
Is there any reason for optimism?
Girard hesitates, then asks a rhetorical question.
"Why, despite all this, why am I the same person? Why am I Harlan Girard?"
For
all his anguish, be it the result of mental illness or, as Girard
contends, government mind control, the voices haven't managed to conquer
the thing that makes him who he is: Call it his consciousness, his
intellect or, perhaps, his soul.
"That's what they don't yet have," he says. After 22 years, "I'm still me."
Sharon
Weinberger is a Washington writer and author of Imaginary Weapons: A
Journey Through the Pentagon's Scientific Underworld.
Note: The original article on the
Washington Post website is
available here. For numerous patents demonstrating the possibility of projecting voices into the head,
click here. See informative
diagrams and explanations of how it's all done. Read also
a revealing essay by a military analyst on advanced weapons of mind control and the race with Russia to develop them.
