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Today I boxed up a bunch of books to clear them out of our parlor ahead of renovations. After years of intentionally whittling down my collection, these books all fit into just three boxes. Most of them are specialized works on topics like systems theory, social psychology, early Christianity and tribal religions, psychedelic mysticism, and so on. The rest were works like Blank Spots on the Map, Brave New War, and Stealth of Nations, which provide great insight into the hidden forces shaping society.
Sorting through these books reminded me that I was once preoccupied with philosophy. For a long time, I regularly poured over dense philosophical tomes trying to figure out what it all meant. These days, I'm a Radical Constructivist in theory and a Stoic with Buddhist features for most practical purposes. Over time, I've found that philosophical leanings almost never come up in everyday conversations. And when they do, the results can be tedious.
One classic I happened upon was Wilhelm Reich's Mass Psychology of Fascism. In 1933, Reich observed the procedures used by the Nazi's to control the minds of average people and speculated on the psychology that allowed this to occur. His basic formula began with repressing the biological functions of people in the population in various ways.
This repression naturally generates in people the energy to respond to it. But instead of allowing people to respond to their biological repression, the control regime channels their generated energies into a furtherance of its agenda. This redirection of energies is accomplished by manipulations of the media and public events. The Nazis may have pioneered the practice, but something like it remains evident in society today, under our more decentralized global regime.
When I was younger, I was decidedly a book person. There were years when I read a book a day. I'd tear through Christopher Moore novels and think tank reports with equal ferocity. Then, sometime in my thirties, I found myself doing more writing than reading and reading more online. Although I still consider myself a book person, I now read fewer than a dozen paper books each year.
Going through my books, there were a few volumes I chose not to keep. Unimportant novels. Stuff on herbalism that seemed outdated in an era of plant identification apps. Vintage comics in poor condition. Letting these things go wasn't difficult at all.
Seeing my books brought up the question of how they may have shaped my thinking over time. My intellectual development has always been a varied and meandering affair. Yet looking back, it always had direction. Towards making sense of the societal crises underway and expanding the realm of what's possible.
At this point, the boxes of books I've written outnumber the boxes of my other books. I'm not sure if this is good or bad, but I'm comfortable with it. To be honest, I'm congratulating myself for having so few books. There will always be a part of me that wants a comprehensive library containing thousands of titles. But the more sensible parts of me are effectively keeping this mad inclination at bay.
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