October 22, 2012
Predictive programming is a subtle form of psychological conditioning provided by the media to acquaint the public with planned societal changes to be implemented by the global elite. If and when these changes are put through, the public will already be familiarized with them and will accept them as ‘natural progressions’, thus lessening any possible public resistance and commotion.
The New Religious Consciousness
Aldous Huxley first presented the “scientific dictatorship” to the public imagination in his book Brave New World. In Dope, Inc., associates of political dissident Lyndon LaRouche claim that Huxley’s book was actually a “mass appeal” organizing document written “on behalf of one-world order” (Dope, Inc. 538). The book also claims the United States is the only place where Huxley’s “science fiction classic” is taught as an allegorical condemnation of fascism (Dope, Inc. 538). If this is true, then the “scientific dictatorship” presented within the pages of his 1932 novel Brave New World is a thinly disguised roman à clef — a novel that thinly veils real people or events — awaiting tangible enactment.
Such is often the case with “science fiction” literature. According to researcher Michael Hoffman, this literary genre is instrumental in the indoctrination of the masses into the doctrines of the elite:
“Traditionally, ‘science fiction’ has appeared to most people as an adolescent genre, the province of time-wasting fantasies. This has been the great strength of this genre as a vehicle for the inculcation of the ideology favored by the Cryptocracy. As J. H. Towsen points out in Clowns, only when people think they are not buying something can the real sales pitch begin. While it is true that with the success of NASA’s Gemini space program and the Apollo moon flights more serious attention and respectability was accorded ‘science fiction,’ nonetheless in its formative seeding time, from the late 19th century through the 1950s, the predictive program known as ‘science fiction’ had the advantage of being derided as the solitary vice of misfit juveniles and marginal adults.” (205)
Thus, “science fiction” is a means of conditioning the masses to accept future visions that the elite wish to tangibly enact. This process of gradual and subtle inculcation is dubbed “predictive programming.”
Hoffman elaborates: “Predictive programming works by means of the propagation of the illusion of an infallibly accurate vision of how the world is going to look in the future“ (205). Also dubbed “sci-fi inevitabilism” by Hoffman, predictive programming is analogous to a virus that infects its hosts with the false belief that it is:
- Useless to resist central, establishment control.
- Or it posits a counter-cultural alternative to such control which is actually a counterfeit, covertly emanating from the establishment itself.
- That the blackening (pollution) of earth is as unavoidable as entropy.
- That extinction (‘evolution”) of the species is inevitable.
- That the reinhabitation of the earth by the “old gods” (Genesis 6:4), is our stellar scientific destiny. (8)
Memes (contagious ideas) are installed through the circulation of “mass appeal” documents under the guise of “science fiction” literature. Once subsumed on a psychocognitive level, these memes become self-fulfilling prophecies, embraced by the masses and outwardly approximated through the efforts of the elite.
In addition to spreading virulent strains of thought, sci-fi has also been instrumental in the promulgation of Darwinism. For instance, the sci-fi literature of Freemason H. G. Wells would play an important role in promulgating the concept of evolution. J. P. Vernier reveals Wells’ religious adherence to the concept of evolution and its inspiration on him as an author of science fiction:
“The impact of the theory of evolution on his [Wells’] mind is well known: it was first felt when he attended the Lectures of T. H. Huxley, at South Kensington, in 1884 and 1885, and, ten years later, evolution was to provide him with the fundamental theme of his ‘scientific romances’ and of many of his short stories.” — “Evolution as a Literary Theme in H.G. Wells’s Science Fiction,” 70.
J. P. Vernier elaborates on the role of sci-fi literature, particularly Wells’ “scientific romances,” in promulgating evolutionary thought:
“Science fiction is admittedly almost impossible to define; readers all think they know what it is and yet no definition will cover all its various aspects. However, I would suggest that evolution, as presented by Wells, that is a kind of mutation resulting in the confrontation of man with different species, is one of the main themes of modern science fiction.” — “Evolution as a Literary Theme in H. G. Wells’s Science Fiction,” 85.
In Orthodoxy and the Religion of the Future, Bishop Seraphim Rose expands on the role of sci-fi in the promulgation of evolutionary thought:
“The center of the science fiction universe (in place of the absent God) is man — not usually man as he is now, but man as he will ‘become’ in the future, in accordance with the modern mythology of evolution.” (73)
Reiterating Vernier’s contention that the sci-fi notion of evolution is “a kind of mutation resulting in the confrontation of man with different species,” Rose observes:
“Although the heroes of science fiction stories are usually recognizable humans, the story interest often centers about their encounters with various kinds of ‘supermen’ from ‘highly-evolved’ races of the future (or sometimes, the past), or from distant galaxies. The idea of the possibility of ‘highly-evolved’ intelligent life on other planets has become so much a part of the contemporary mentality that even respectable scientific (and semi-scientific) speculations assume it as a matter of course. Thus, one popular series of books (Erich von Däniken, Chariots of the Gods?, Gods From Outer Space) finds supposed evidence of the presence of ‘extraterrestrial’ beings or ‘gods’ in ancient history, who are supposedly responsible for the sudden appearance of intelligence in man, difficult to account for by the usual evolutionary theory.” (73)
According to Rose, science fiction’s traditional depiction of religion suggests that the future will inherit a nebulous and indefinable spirituality:
“Religion, in the traditional sense, is absent, or else present in a very incidental or artificial way. The literary form itself is obviously a product of the ‘post-Christian’ age (evident already in the stories of Poe and Shelley). The science fiction universe is a totally secular one, although often with ‘mystical’ overtones of an occult or Eastern kind. ‘God,’ if mentioned at all, is a vague and impersonal power, not a personal being (for example, the ‘Force’ of Star Wars, a cosmic energy that has its evil as well as good side). The increasing fascination of contemporary man with science fiction themes is a direct reflection of the loss of traditional religious values.” (73)
Expanding on the “mystical” themes of sci-fi, researcher Carl Raschke asserts that the literary genre invariably extends itself into the realm of the occult:
“The snug relationship between occult fantasy and the actual practice of the occult is well established in history. Writers such as H. P. Lovecraft and Edgar Rice Burroughs, progenitor of the Tarzan and Jane tales, were practicing occultists.” (303)
Raschke explains that sci-fi presents a future that has rediscovered the occult traditions of its past:
“Increasingly, science fiction with its vistas of the technological future intertwines with the neopagan and the medieval. The synthesis was first achieved with polished artistry in Lucas’ Star Wars trilogy.” (398)
Eloquently summarizing the close correlation between science fiction and occultism, Raschke states: “Science fiction, ‘science fantasy,’ pure fantasy, and the world of esoteric thought and activity have all been intimately connected historically.” (303)
Clearly, such ideas are fantastic to say the least. Yet, they have been given serious credence by contemporary scientists:
“Serious scientists in the Soviet Union speculate that the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah was due to a nuclear explosion, that ‘extraterrestrial’ beings visited earth centuries ago, that Jesus Christ may have been a ‘cosmonaut,’ and that today ‘we may be on the threshold of a ‘second coming’ of intelligent beings from outer space.’ Equally serious scientists in the West think the existence of ‘extraterrestrial intelligences’ likely enough that for at least 18 years they have been trying to establish contact with them by means of radio telescopes, and currently there are at least six searches being conducted by astronomers around the world for intelligent radio signals from space.” (Rose 73-74)
According to Rose, the sci-fi genre’s influence upon science could, in turn, provoke a shift in religious thinking:
“Contemporary Protestant and Roman Catholic ‘theologians’ — who have become accustomed to follow wherever ‘science’ seems to be leading — speculate in turn in the new realm of ‘exotheology’ (the ‘theology of outer space’) concerning what nature the ‘extraterrestrial’ races might have (see Time magazine, April 24, 1978). It can hardly be denied that the myth behind science fiction has a powerful fascination even among many learned men of our day.” (74)
In his final assessment of science fiction, Rose concludes that this ostensibly “scientific and non-religious” genre is, in truth, the “leading propagator (in a secular form) of the ‘new religious consciousness'” that is gradually supplanting Christianity (77). Laced with occultism and intimations of an emergent pagan spirituality, science fiction could be facilitating a paradigm shift in religious thinking.
Secularization: A Segue for Humanism
Such a paradigm shift could already be underway. Among one of its chief “evangelists” is William Sims Bainbridge, sociologist and member of the National Science Foundation. Bainbridge concerns himself predominantly with the development of a new world religion, which he dubs the “Church of God Galactic.” Expanding on the characteristics intrinsic to such a church, Bainbridge suggests, “its most likely origins are in science fiction” (“Religions for a Galactic Civilization“).
According to Bainbridge, secularization provides the religio-cultural segue for this new religion. Examining the sociological phenomenon of secularization, Bainbridge makes an interesting observation:
“Secularization does not mean a decline in the need for religion, but only a loss of power by traditional denominations. Studies of the geography of religion show that where the churches become weak, cults and occultism explode to fill the spiritual vacuum.” — “Religions for a Galactic Civilization“
Secularization has been commonly associated with atheism. Indeed, past periods of secularization have seen the decline of theistic faiths and a general rejection of traditional notions of God. No doubt, the publication of Origin of the Species and the subsequent widespread promotion of evolutionary thought had this effect. However, periods of secularization do not represent the obliteration of religion, but the preparation of the dominant religio-cultural milieu for the arrival of a new religion. Secularization and its correlative, atheism, only act as a catalyst for an enormous paradigm shift. This begins with the realization of a significant philosophical paradox intrinsic to atheism. Authors Ron Carlson and Ed Decker explain this intrinsic paradox:
“It is philosophically impossible to be an atheist, since to be an atheist you must have infinite knowledge in order to know absolutely that there is no God. But to have infinite knowledge, you would have to be God yourself. It’s hard to be God yourself and an atheist at the same time!” (17)
In order to be philosophically consistent, the atheist must eventually conclude that he/she is a god. Whittaker Chambers, former member of the communist underground in America, revealed the name of this faith in one’s own intrinsic divinity:
“Humanism is not new. It is, in fact, man’s second oldest faith. Its promise was whispered in the first days of Creation under the Tree of the knowledge of Good and Evil: ‘Ye shall be as gods.’“ (Qutd. in Baker 206)
Simply stated, humanism is the religion of self-deification. Its god is Man, spelled with a capital M to denote the purported divinity intrinsic to humanity. Of course, this was also the religion of Freemasonry. In fact, humanism and Masonry have shared a long historical relationship. In The Keys of This Blood, deceased Vatican insider Malachi Martin examined the emergence of “a network of Humanist associations” throughout early-Renaissance Italy (518-19). These organizations represented:
“a revolt against the traditional interpretation of the Bible as maintained by the ecclesiastical and civil authorities, and against the philosophical and theological underpinnings provided by the Church for civil and political life.” (519)
Although these groups espoused an ostensible belief in God, their notions of a Supreme Being were largely derivative of the Kabbala:
“Not surprisingly given such an animus, these associations had their own conception of the original message of the Bible and of God’s revelation. They latched onto what they considered to be an ultrasecret body of knowledge, a gnosis, which they based in part on cultic and occultist strains deriving from North Africa — notably, Egypt — and, in part, on the classical Jewish Kabbala.” (519)
Thirty-third Degree Freemason Albert Pike revealed that “all the Masonic associations owe to it [the Kabbala] their Secrets and their Symbols” (Pike 744). According to Martin, however, this ancient Hebraic doctrine was modified considerably by the early humanists:
“Whether out of historical ignorance or willfulness of both, Italian humanists bowdlerized the idea of Kabbala almost beyond recognition. They reconstructed the concept of gnosis, and transferred it to a thoroughly this-worldly plane. The special gnosis they sought was a secret knowledge of how to master the blind forces of nature for a sociopolitical purpose.” (519-20)
Many of the semiotic artifacts comprising the early humanists’s iconography and jargon were also directly related to Masonry:
“Initiates of those early humanist associations were devotees of the Great Force — the Great Architect of the Cosmos — which they represented under the form of the Sacred Tetragrammaton, YHWH, the Jewish symbol for the name of the divinity that was not to be pronounced by mortal lips. They borrowed other symbols — the Pyramid and the All-Seeing Eye — mainly from Egyptian sources.” (Martin 520)
The Great Architect of the Cosmos, the All-Seeing Eye, and the Pyramid also comprise the esoteric semiology of Freemasonry. What is the explanation for all of these commonalities? According to Martin, these shared characteristics were the result of a merger between the humanists and the old Mason guilds:
“In other northern climes, meanwhile, a far more important union took place, with the humanists. A union that no one could have expected. In the 1300s, during the time that the cabalist — humanist associations were beginning to find their bearings, there already existed — particularly in England, Scotland and France-medieval guilds of men who worked with ax, chisel and mallet in freestone. Freemasons by trade, and God-fearing in their religion, these were men who fitted perfectly into the hierarchic order of things on which their world rested.” (521)
Evidently, there couldn’t have been two organizations that were more diametrically opposed than Masonry and humanism:
“No one alive in the 1300s could have predicted a merger of minds between freemason guilds and the Italian humanists. The traditional faith of the one, and the ideological hostility to both tradition and faith of the other, should have made the two groups about as likely to mix as oil and water.” (Martin 522)
Nevertheless, the late 1500s would witness the amalgamation of these two groups (Martin 522). The most evident corollary of this organizational coalescence was a noticeable difference in recruiting practices:
“As the number of working or ‘operative,’ freemasons diminished progressively, they were replaced by what were called Accepted Masons — gentlemen of leisure, aristocrats, even members of royal families — who lifted ax, chisel and mallet only in the ultrasecret symbolic ceremonies of the lodge, still guarded by the ‘Charges’ and the ‘Mason Word.’ The ‘speculative’ mason was born. The new Masonry shifted away from all allegiance to Roman ecclesiastical Christianity.” (Martin 522)
Indeed, the new Masonic doctrine appeared to be one that thoroughly eschewed Christian concepts:
“There was no conceptual basis by which such a belief could be reconciled with Christianity. For precluded were all such ideas as sin, Hell for punishment and Heaven for reward, and eternally perpetual Sacrifice of the Mass, saints and angels, priest and pope.” (522)
The new Mason was no longer an architect of freestone. Instead, he was an architect of the technocratic Utopia mandated by Bacon’s New Atlantis. His god was Man himself, an emergent deity sculpted by the Kabbalistic golem of nature through the occult process of “becoming.” Of course, this concept would later be disseminated on the popular level as Darwinism and the world would call it “evolution.”
These humanist-Masonic concepts remain firmly embedded within the science fiction genre. In an interview with humanist David Alexander, Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry commented:
“As nearly as I can concentrate on the question today, I believe I am God; certainly you are, I think we intelligent beings on this planet are all a piece of God, are becoming God.” (568)
In addition to espousing this core precept of the humanist-Masonic religion, Roddenberry’s Star Trek presented a technocratic world government under the appellation of the “Federation.” Of course, one could argue that such concepts are simply part of an innocuous fiction concocted for entertainment. According to Bainbridge, however, there is “government-encouraged research” devoted to the realization of “the Star Trek prophecies” (“Memorials“). Apparently, the demarcations between fact and fiction are becoming increasingly indiscernible.
As science fiction vigorously proselytizes the masses in the humanist-Masonic religion, the spiritual vacuum left by secularization is being filled. As Bainbridge previously stated, the immediate elements to supplant the orthodox ecclesiastical authority are “cults and occultism” (“Religions for a Galactic Civilization“). The contemporary religious counterculture movement has most vividly expressed itself through the explosion of scientistic cults in the late twentieth and early twenty-first century. Bainbridge himself has been actively involved with some of these cults, which act as working models for his Church of God Galactic.
Building the Church of God Galactic
Examining the most promising model for the Church of God Galactic, Bainbridge makes the following recommendation:
“Today there exists one highly effective religion actually derived from science fiction, one which fits all the known sociological requirements for a successful Church of God Galactic. I refer, of course, to Scientology.” — “Religions for a Galactic Civilization“.
Indeed, Scientology meets all the prerequisites for Bainbridge’s Church of God Galactic, one of which being the cult’s origins with science fiction. Carl Raschke explains:
“L. Ron Hubbard, architect of the controversial religion known as Scientology, openly and consciously decided to convert his science fiction work into a working belief system upon which a ‘church’ was set up.” (303)
As a derivation of science fiction, Scientology inherited a central feature of the genre: Darwinism. In Dianetics, Scientologist high priest L. Ron Hubbard reveals the movement’s adherence to evolutionary thought:
“It is fairly well accepted in these times that life in all forms evolved from the basic building blocks: the virus and the cell. Its only relevance to Dianetics is that such a proposition works — and actually that is all we ask of Dianetics. There is no point to writing here a vast tome on biology and evolution. We can add some chapters to those things, but Charles Darwin did his job well and the fundamental principles of evolution can be found in his and other works. The proposition on which Dianetics was originally entered was evolution.“ (69; emphasis added)
Darwinian thought is especially evident in Scientology’s preoccupation with survival. In Dianetics, Hubbard opines: “The dynamic principle of existence is survival” (52). In this statement, one can discern echoes of the Darwinian mantra: “Survival of the fittest.” Hubbard proceeds to enumerate four dynamics of survival. It is within the fourth dynamic that the astute reader will recognize Darwinism’s corresponding religion of self-deification: “Dynamic four is the thrust toward potential immortality of mankind as a species” (53; emphasis added). Of course, immortality is a trait reserved only for gods. Again, the religious theme of man’s evolutionary ascent towards apotheosis becomes evident.
Eventually, Hubbard’s church of Scientology “suffered religious schisms which spawned other cults” (Bainbridge, “Religions for a Galactic Civilization“). One of the resulting sects was the Process Church of Final Judgement, a satanic cult that was the subject of a five-year ethnographic study conducted by Bainbridge (“Social Construction from Within: Satan’s Process”). Enamored with the group, Bainbridge praised the Process Church as a “remarkably aesthetic and intelligent alternative to conventional religion” (“Social Construction from Within: Satan’s Process”).
A deeper examination of this scientistic cult reveals that its adherents probably retained much of the Darwinian thought intrinsic to its progenitor, Scientology. One case in point is the theology of the group’s founder, Robert de Grimston. Bainbridge delineates this theology:
“Robert de Grimston’s theology was Hegelianism in the extreme. For every thesis (Christ, Jehovah) there was an antithesis (Satan, Lucifer), and the cult aimed to achieve a final synthesis of all these dichotomies in the rebirth of GOD. Indeed, one way of explaining the failure of The Process is to note that it promised a Heaven on earth to members, yet it delivered something less.” — “Social Construction from Within: Satan’s Process”.
Like Processean theology, Darwinian evolution also exhibits an inherently Hegelian framework. The organism (thesis) comes into conflict with nature (antithesis) resulting in a newly enhanced species (synthesis), the culmination of the evolutionary process (Marrs, Circle of Intrigue, 127). A similar dialectical framework was distilled in an allegorical form by H. G. Wells, a Freemason and protégé of Darwinian apologist T. H. Huxley. W. Warren Wagar elaborates:
“In the symbolic prologue to The Undying Fire, he [Wells] even likened the opposition of essence and existence to the interplay of good and evil. God was here represented as the inscrutable creator, who created things perfect and exact, only to allow the intrusion of a marginal inexactness in things through the intervention of Satan. God corrected the marginal uniqueness by creation at a higher level, and Satan upset the equilibrium all over again. Satan’s intervention permitted evolution, but the ultimate purpose of God was by implication a perfect and finished and evolved absolute unity.” (104-05)
The Processeans shared Wells’ notion of Satan, which portrayed the Devil as a necessary element of instability:
“For Processeans, Satan was no crude beast but an intellectual principle by which God could be unfolded into several parts, accomplishing the repaganization of religion and the remystification of the world.” — Bainbridge, “Social Construction from Within: Satan’s Process”.
This portrait of an ongoing dialectical conflict echoes the Masonic dictum: Ordo Ab Chao (Latin for Order out of Chaos). The dialectical process underpins evolution, which began with the Masonic doctrine of “becoming.” The final goal of a repaganized world synchronizes very well with Freemasonic occultism. All comprise the new religious consciousness being promulgated by science fiction. This is the future that the masses are being conditioned to accept by sci-fi predictive programming.
In Religion and the Social Order, Bainbridge presented the following mandate:
“It is time to move beyond mere observation of scientistic cults and use the knowledge we have gained of recruitment strategies, cultural innovation, and social needs to create better religions than the world currently possesses. At the very least, unobtrusive observation must be supplemented by active experimentation. Religions are human creations. Our society quite consciously tries to improve every other kind of social institution, why not religion? Members of The Process, founded mainly by students from an architecture school, referred to the creation of their cult as religious engineering, the conscious, systematic, skilled creation of a new religion. I propose that we become religious engineers.”
To understand what sort of faith is being sculpted by the technocratic “religious engineers,” one need only look to Scientology and the Process Church. Both of these scientistic cults, awash in Darwinism and its corresponding humanist-Masonic religion of apotheosized Man, are microcosms for an emergent one-world religion.
Heralding the Technocratic Messiah
Of course, a new world religion requires a new world messiah. There is even a messianic legacy within Masonic mythology. Thirty-third degree Mason Albert Pike states:
“Behold the object, the end, the result, of the great speculation and logomachies of antiquity; the ultimate annihilation of evil, and restoration of Man to his first estate, by a Redeemer, a Masayah, a Christos, the incarnate Word, Reason, or Power of Diety.” (274)
The astute reader will immediately notice the capital M in “Man,” denoting humanity’s intrinsic divinity. Being a god was humanity’s “first estate.” Thus, the Masonic messiah is not the transcendent Creator incarnated as Jesus Christ. Instead, Masonry posits that the messiah is within Man himself. According to Masonic doctrine, humanity’s cognizance of its innate divinity is integral to achieving apotheosis. Pike recapitulates:
“Thus self-consciousness leads us to consciousness of God, and at last to consciousness of an infinite God. That is the highest evidence of our own existence and it is the highest evidence of His.” (709)
As for the early Christians who believed that Jesus was the transcendent God clothed in flesh, Pike derisively portrays them as superstitious simpletons:
“The dunces who led primitive Christianity astray, by substituting faith for science, reverie for experience, the fantastic for the reality; and the inquisitors who for so many ages waged against Magism a war of extermination, have succeeded in shrouding in darkness the ancient discoveries of the human mind; so that we now grope in the dark to find again the key of the phenomena of nature.” (732)
Pike’s reprimand concerning Christianity’s substitution of faith for science betrays Masonry’s scientistic proclivities. Earlier in human history, such scientistic belief was less powerful. However, in this post-Masonic era where the doctrine of the elite’s epistemological cartel has been fully externalized, scientism rules the day. As such, the present scientistic society demands a scientistic messiah.
Paradoxically, this occult concept of self-deification asserts that humanity’s internal deity requires an external facilitator to achieve full manifestation. Again, science fiction has played an integral role in preparing the masses for such an eventuality. One of the most significant pieces of messianic sci-fi predictive programming is Steven Spielberg’s E.T. The central theme of the film E.T. is most succinctly encapsulated in the familiar shot that also adorned many of the movie’s publicity posters. Of course, this is the shot of the outstretched hand of the movie’s human protagonist touching the glowing fingertip of an alien hand reaching downward.
The symbolic meaning embedded within this image becomes evident when compared with Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel painting. Like the thematically axial shot in E.T., Michelangelo’s portrait presents Adam “with a raised arm and in fingertip union with God” (377). The semiotic synchronicity between these two pictures is clearly religious. Spielberg’s pivotal shot in E.T. is an intertextual reference to Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel painting.
Both appear to be premised upon the Christian theme of God communing with His own creation. The ministry of Jesus Christ, whom Christians believe to have been God incarnate, tangibly enacted this theme. Reiterating this theme, Spielberg’s film features an extraterrestrial “messiah” who reproduces many of Jesus’ miracles. The most significant “miracles” performed by this visitor is its own resurrection and ascension into heaven. Yet, despite these ostensible Christian elements, Spielberg’s film cannot be construed as a “Christian allegory.” Both instances, it should be noted, are explained in a naturalistic context. More specifically, the “resurrection” is merely the creature’s exceptional immunological response to Earth’s bacteria and the “ascension” evacuation via a waiting spacecraft.
Yet, Spielberg’s bowdlerization of Christian theology is anything but new or innovative. E.T. merely continues a tradition embodied by Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel painting. The portrait departs from the traditional Christian paradigm concerning the Genesis account and humanity’s relationship with its Creator. Ian Taylor explains how Michelangelo’s painting deviates from the traditional Genesis account:
“Unlikely as this may seem, it is, nevertheless, a remarkable fact that when painted in 1508 Michelangelo took the bold step of departing from the biblical account of the creation of man to depict what is today seen to be a theistically evolved version.
Prior to this time, artists had stuck to the Genesis description of a non-living being made from the dust of the ground becoming a ‘living soul’ by the infusion of God’s breath (Genesis 2:7). Michelangelo’s now famous painting of the creation of Adam shows a human form quite evidently alive with a raised arm and in fingertip union with God.
The question this painting raises is that since the creature is alive, what kind of pre-Adamic being does it represent? Enterprising Jesuit teachers have seized upon this as historical vindication of the truth of theistic evolution, so that the creature depicted must then be some kind of advanced anthropoid.
There can be absolute certainty that nothing could have been further from Michelangelo’s mind, yet the Greek influence and tendency to rationalize revelation is represented symbolically throughout the entire painting, not in style, but by the insertion of Greek sibyls between the Old Testament prophets.” (377)
Like Michelangelo’s portrait, Spielberg’s E.T. attempts to reconceptualize man’s relationship with the heavenly. The film is set in the modern age of science, a time when mystical cosmology has been supplanted by human reason. This contemporary cultural milieu is one governed by scientism. In this context, the human protagonist of E.T. represents an Adept or, as they are called in esoteric circles, an Illuminatus (“illuminated one”). With his evolutionary development augmented through extraterrestrial intervention and a paradigm shift just on the horizon, Spielberg’s human protagonist is the next in a long line of Avatars. The extraterrestrial visitor is an anthropomorphic representation of Prometheus, who imparts the torch of Wisdom unto man.
As is evidenced by films like Close Encounters of the Third Kind and E.T., the relatively recent UFO phenomenon made a significant impression upon Spielberg. In fact, the UFO mystery has prompted many to reconceptualize their relationship with the heavenly realm. Timothy Good provides an example of such a shift in thinking:
“Miles Copeland, former CIA organizer and intelligence officer, related an interesting story to me involving the Agency’s attempt on one occasion to use fictional UFO sightings to spread disinformation. The purpose, in this case, was to ‘dazzle’ and intoxicate’ the Chinese, who had themselves on several occasions fooled the CIA into sending teams to a desert in Sinkiang Province, West China, to search for nonexistent underground ‘atomic energies.’ The exercise took place in the early 1960s, Copeland told me, and involved launching fictional UFO sighting reports from many different areas. The project was headed by Desmond Fitzgerald of the Special Affairs Staff (who made a name for himself by inventing harebrained schemes for assassinating Fidel Castro). The UFO exercise was ‘just to keep the Chinese off-balance and make them think we were doing things we weren’t,’ Copeland said. ‘The project got the desired results, as I remember, except that it somehow got picked up by a lot of religious nuts in Iowa and Nebraska or somewhere who took it seriously enough to add an extra chapter to their version of the New Testament!’“ (357)
If this UFO manipulation perpetrated by the CIA was effective enough to compel certain factions to embellish and pervert the Scriptures, imagine what a deception on a larger scale could accomplish. Rose states:
“Science fiction has given the images, ‘evolution,’ has produced the philosophy, and the technology of the ‘space age’ has supplied the plausibility for such encounters.” (Rose 91)
Apparently, the idea of extraterrestrials visiting earth was so powerful that it prompted many to reconsider their traditional religious notions. No doubt, the UFO phenomenon had the same effect upon Spielberg. Herein is the ultimate theme underpinning the imagery in E.T.: the redefinition of God.
The fingertip union between terrestrial anthropoid and extraterrestrial anthropoid represents the religious mandate for the creation of a new scientistic faith. Through sci-fi predictive programming, filmmakers like Spielberg could be serving as “religious engineers” in the construction of a new messianic legacy. However, this savior is anything but the Christ of Christianity.
Consider the following account of Linda Moulton Howe. During a meeting with Richard Doty, an intelligence officer with the United States military, Howe was presented with a briefing paper regarding alien visitation. In its body, one finds a claim heralding the arrival of an individual that the film E.T. has prepared the public to accept. Howe elaborates:
“There was a paragraph that stated, ‘Two thousand years ago extraterrestrials created a being’ that was placed on this earth to teach mankind about love and non-violence.” (151)
Was Doty acting on behalf of some hidden “religious engineers?” Was he a counterfeit John the Baptist, appointed to introduce the world to a technocratic Christ? Now, it is important to recall Doty’s connections with military intelligence. He has worked within circles where the Freemasonic myth of Sirius is actively circulated. If such a deception is underway, sci-fi predictive programming like E.T. has helped cultivate the fertile soil of public imagination.
In essence, E.T. is the cinematic rallying call for the reengineering of religions. In Morals and Dogma, 33rd degree Freemason Albert Pike states: “God is, as man conceives Him, the reflected image of man himself” (223). According to the Scriptures, God made man in His own image. According to the hidden “religious engineers,” it is man’s time to return the favor.
- Alexander, David. Star Trek Creator. New York: Dutton Signet, 1994.
- Bainbridge, William Sims. “Religions for a Galactic Civilization.” Excerpted from Science Fiction and Space Futures, edited by Eugene M. Emme. San Diego: American Astronautical Society, pages 187-201, 1982.
- “Social Construction from Within: Satan’s Process.” Excerpted from The Satanism Scare, edited by James T. Richardson, Joel Best, and David G. Bromley, New York: Aldine de Gruyter, pages 297-310, 1991.
- “New Religions, Science, and Secularization.” Excerpted from Religion and the Social Order, Volume 3A, pages 277-292, 1993.
- “Memorials.” Excerpted from Social Sciences for a Digital World. Edited by Marc Renaud. Paris: Organisation for Economic Co-Operation and Development, 2000.
- Carlson, Ron, Ed Decker, Fast Facts on False Teachings, Eugene, Oregon: Harvest House Publishers, 1994.
- Editors of Executive Intelligence Review, Dope, Inc.: The Book That Drove Henry Kissinger Crazy, Washington, D.C.: Executive Intelligence Review, 1992.
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Phillip D. Collins acted as the editor for The Hidden Face of Terrorism. He has also written articles for Paranoia Magazine, MKzine, News With Views, B.I.P.E.D.: The Official Website of Darwinian Dissent and Conspiracy Archive. He has an Associate of Arts and Science. Currently, he is studying for a bachelor’s degree in Communications at Wright State University. During the course of his seven-year college career, Phillip has studied philosophy, religion, and classic literature. He also co-authored the book, The Ascendancy of the Scientific Dictatorship: An Examination of Epistemic Autocracy, From the 19th to the 21st Century.
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