Wrote last July 11, just discovered and edited it:
June 2015, National Geographic published an article about the reintroduction of dolphins back to the wild after living major parts of their lives in captivity, above and near the surface of the water, eating dead fish from a bucket, on a schedule, and always relating to humans. The article concluded with a photograph of Keiko, dolphin star of the 1993 movie Free Willy, which I never saw, but which popularized the subject of releasing captive dolphins.
I can’t help but wonder when people will be able to acknowledge the human children made captive to mind control experiments around the world, mainly in America.
Our needs are similar, but less visible. We too have been made captives, literally caged sometimes, food withheld to gain our compliance, other uncomfortable or torturous methods also imposed. We’ve been ripped from our families, some permanently, others for shorter periods, typically two years at a young age. We’re constantly monitored – for our good, they think, and their scientific study. The controllers have made enormous amounts of money from our ability to perform tricks: spying, soldiering, sexual, and couriering, most of it amnesic. And most of us are unhappy, unhealthy, and neurotic. And many have died or are hospitalized or medicated into oblivion.
Taking captives on planet Earth has a very long history, probably as long as humanity has existed. According to Sumerian history, humans were created as a slave race. Egyptologists tell us that generations of slaves lived their entire lives building the pyramids. Rome is famous for its gladiator displays and slaughtering Christians for entertainment. Native Americans are said to have raided other tribes for slaves, though presumably they treated them much better than the preceding examples.
So why should we be surprised that human captives are still being taken in America?
Because we’ve been told that it doesn’t happen. Or that it did, but it doesn’t anymore.
But there’s substantial evidence that it does continue, and the evidence should meet the highest standards for Americans to believe: The Director of the CIA testified to the US Congress twice in the 1970s, admitting the agency’s involvement in mind control experiments, on adults and children, all against their will. Captives.
Estimates are that 30,000 children were used between the 1940s and 1970s. The CIA Director testified that the program was ceased (though most researchers believe that was a cover-up story), and all the files were destroyed (neatly removing the evidence that would be needed for our personal lawsuits). However, over 100,000 pages of CIA financial documents were later released under the Freedom of Information Act, confirming many details of testimony given to researchers by subjects.
I’m one of those who can’t say for certain that I’m not still being used. At the least, I know I’m still being monitored, as I often wake up with strange marks on my body: circular and donut-shaped bruises, apparent Taser burns, even once a scar identical to thyroid surgery, recognized by my physician – all accompanied by powerful feelings the next day that “Something happened to me in the night” – for which I had no memory.
I can understand scientists wanting to follow through with their experiments. I can understand well-meaning humans wanting to keep track of subjects to monitor their well-being. And I can understand people who’ve been engaged in something of questionable ethics wanting to keep their subjects quiet, and if their subjects insist on making noise (as I do), punishing them or somehow repressing their urges.
Somehow, I’ve come through my ordeal, understanding that one cannot fight this sort of thing. Fighting, I’ve learned, only fuels their psychoses, while protection comes from silence and submission. The Taser gun appears, and all is forgotten. They think.
With age, the amnesic barriers break down, little by little. And the controllers wonder how long they can keep us alive, functional, amnesic, and quiet. I imagine it’s a tricky balance, with some controllers demanding harsh treatment and others being somewhat kind – like the veterinarian at Sea World, confessing in Blackfish that he hated the work, but wanted to keep taking care of Tilikum, for whom he felt terribly sorry.
There is no open sea into which we mind control subjects can swim away to attempt to regain our lives (except maybe the open sea of the other dimensions at death), and no pod of free humans to accept us (except our friends and family on the other side). So we live our monitored lives as well as we can, and wait for either death or the day that humans will notice, think, feel, and find the resources to help us find a better semblance of freedom. I am not holding my breath.
Sometimes, I wonder if this idea that we’re all meant to be free is simply not true. Maybe it’s just a platitude, to keep us “pledging allegiance.” Maybe even the hope for Free Willy is a lie, a charade to keep us all believing.
No, I do believe humans are evolving, and even though we may have a long history of slavery, we are evolving – or trying to evolve – beyond our history. Some are doing their part. Frederick Douglas and Martin Luther King are two of my heroes, and Rosa Parks, whom I actually got to see when she was honored in 1978 or 79 in Louisville, Kentucky, on her 70-somethingth birthday in a public ceremony. I want to believe all these activists and martyrs didn’t suffer and die in vain, though it tests my faith when I see today how blacks are still arrested, beaten and murdered with impunity in the United States, the numbers increasing, and when I have a hard time speaking my truth, even though I’m backed up with US Government Printing Office documents, seeing people turn a deaf ear as though I shouldn’t disturb their equanimity.
On days like those, I think perhaps the quote of the Buddha is correct: Life is suffering.
Or the other platitudes that All is Illusion explains how some live a life like mine while others truly do seem to have full freedom to create to their heart’s content – and it’s only an illusion that we’re all in this life together, “free.” Many days it’s all just too unreal.
Then a couple of movies inspire us and activate a few. And somehow I regain hope that we MK subjects will one day be recognized.