Why “The Mist” Is The Best Horror Film Of The Last Decade

*Spoilers Ahoy! Don’t read this if you haven’t seen the film.*

The Mist Poster

About ten years ago, in the throes of teenagehood, I read Stephen King’s collection of short stories entitled “Skeleton Crew”. His writing is as wonderful as ever, of course, and many of the stories are absolute belters. “The Mist” is the tale that opens the book. A good 150 pages long, it’s actually more of a novella than a short story. It tells the story of a group of small-town residents who find themselves stranded in a supermarket when the eponymous Mist appears, bearing within it all manner of nasty beasties.

Ostensibly, it’s a good boogeyman story, but it’s less about the monsters outside than how the people trapped in the supermarket react to these extraordinary circumstances. The plot focuses particularly on the hero of the story, David Drayton, who must contend with Mrs. Carmody, the local bible-basher who sees the monsters as manifestations of God’s vengeance for Man’s iniquity. In the same vein as Carpenter’s “The Thing” or Boorman’s “Deliverance“, the threatening environment is merely a stage within which the real drama of human conflict is played out.

Frank Darabont’s film version of the book, which was released this year, is actually his third King adaptation, after “The Shawshank Redemption” and “The Green Mile“. And yet, it’s the first one that could be considered an out-and-out horror. So yes, it’s a big thematic change. But the resulting film suggests that Darabont can do horror. In fact, he absolutely knocked it out of the park.

Firstly, he nails the human conflict perfectly. The roaming camera picks up on stolen glances, casual comments that demonstrate the mounting fear in the crowd. Much of the film’s opening hour revolves around Drayton and his friends’ attempts to convince the others that something is in the Mist. Most react with typical incredulity, and the universal small-town spats and biases rear up; noone wants to be made a fool of.

The Mist

When the threat becomes readily apparent (in a series of brilliantly-staged attack scenes), the crowd begin to give more and more heed to Mrs Carmody. Played superbly by Marcia Gay Harden, she embodies the attractive power of religion purely as a means of rationalizing the unknown. At the outset, most people are laughing at her brooding piousness. But she makes a couple of lucky predictions about people’s deaths and the creatures being “sated” – and suddenly she is God’s unquestioned loudspeaker.

Towards the end of the film, she is holding sermons in the aisles; her followers baying for blood to appease the horrors outside. They find their scapegoat in Wayne Jessup (Samuel Witwer), who admits that the Mist and the monsters have been the result of military research into the existence of parallel dimensions. The were looking for a “window”, he says – but “they opened a door!”, says Carmody. Jessup is promptly thrown outside for the creatures to devour.

At this point, Drayton, his young son, and the few non-Carmodyites left decide to make a break for it. They get into his truck and try to get clear of the mist, though it may already be across the globe, for all they know. They keep going until the fuel in the truck runs out, but are still surrounded by the mist. There seems no end to it. With creatures ululating in the distance, Drayton takes the only action left to him, which the group have agreed upon; he takes a gun and shoots each of them, one by one, including his son (who he had promised that he won’t “let the monsters get him”).

The Mist

However, Drayton has no bullets left with which to kill himself. He stumbles out of his car, screaming for the creatures to come and get him. But instead of a monster, what emerges is a huge military cleanup operation, destroying the Mist and its denizens. Drayton falls to his knees and wails in despair.

Darabont cuts right to the heart of King’s story, and in doing so, takes the film way above and beyond the trappings of a standard creature feature, and mines the true meaning of “horror”. How does he do this?

Firstly, the struggle between religion and rationality is brilliantly played out. M. Night Shyamalan’s film “The Village” explored the need to perpetuate the idea of outside threats to maintain an internal order; allusions to Bush’s “Axis Of Evil” worldview were obvious. However, there’s an implicit suggestion that without the politicians who demonize these perceived threats, people could in fact function in a rational and self-sufficient manner.

“The Mist” dismisses this as wishful thinking. It looks at how, when faced with true terror, most people will willingly sacrifice everything they believe in, just to generate some semblance of social and psychological order. That’s one of the attractions of aggressive religious speech, as exemplified by Mrs Carmody. It breaks the world down into Manichean factions; black and white, good and evil. It offers the simplest type of order, a beacon in the climate of fear.

One scene addresses this issue directly. Drayton’s friend Amanda argues that “People are basically good, decent (….) We’re a civilized society.”

David replies, “Sure. As long as the machines are working and you can dial 911. But you take those things away, you throw people in the dark, you scare the shit out of them, no more rules…. You’ll see how primitive they get.”

Another character continues, “You scare people badly enough, you can get them to do anything. They’ll turn to whoever promises a solution. Or whatever.”

The Torture Of Prometheus

Another standard horror theme that the film addresses brilliantly is that of the Faustian pact. The military, in their search for biological weaponry, have opened the door between two dimensions and caused the creatures of another to spill out into ours. Of course, this idea is nothing new; humans messing with what they don’t fully understand has long been an archetypal fear. Prometheus took fire from the Gods, Victor Frankenstein destroyed God’s position as sole giver of life.

(That fear of the unknown has never left us. The CERN hadron collider at Geneva has recently been the subject of scrutiny, since it was revealed that microscopic black holes could appear during their newest experiments into the origins of the universe, which will recreate the conditions of the Big Bang. A former Nuclear safety officer from Hawaii unsuccessfully filed a suit against the organization in an attempt to stop the experiment from taking place.)

Mrs Camody exploits this fear explicitly when she accuses the military of continuing the long tradition of “…going against the Will of God …. walking on the Moon! Or splitting his atoms! Or stem cells and abortions! Destroying the secrets of life that only God above has any right to!”

Horror has been arguing this since time immemorial; but what is so astonishing about “The Mist” is the feeling of utter finality of what has happened as a result of Man’s hubris. This thing is upon us, and there is little or no explanation as to its origins. In a stunning scene near the film’s end, Drayton, with his son and friends, stop their truck and watch a gargantuan creature stride past. It is impossibly huge, a skyscraper, and its footsteps are like earthquakes. The looks exchanged afterwards say it all. This is ultimate horror; not the loss of civil liberties or even a loved one; but the loss of reality itself. Every book ever written, every discovery ever made, every human advance ever achieved is instantly forfeit, and these monstrosities are all we are left with.

Towards the film’s climax, Darabont uses the funereal “The Host Of Seraphim” by Dead Can Dance as a recurring theme. He himself described its use as “a requiem Mass for the human race”, and the film’s tone captures that perfectly. This isn’t the slow-burn apocalyptica of “Independence Day” or “28 Days Later”, where humanity can and must fight back. This is after the fact; the End of Days has been visited, and that’s that. We’re done, it’s already finished. And in that sense, The Mist is not just scary – it’s also brutally melancholic, something that most horror never achieves.

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Dead Can Dance: “The Host Of Seraphim”

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And then there’s the film’s conclusion (which is actually more downbeat than King’s own ambiguous ending). When Drayton, seemingly left with no other option, shoots his son and friends, he is doing the right thing. He is sparing them a much worse fate at the hands (claws?) of the monsters. But when the military appear, dissipating the Mist, it turns out that all his goodness has been for naught.

In fact, it has been precisely Drayton’s bravery, his virtue, and love for his son that has led them to his situation. Had it not been for him, they would all have stayed at the supermarket and been rescued by now. Mrs Carmody’s followers, for all their shrieking fervour, are now safe and sound. Despite their fundamentalist idiocy, their judgement was correct. Drayton has taken the route of every classic hero; he stayed calm and collected, thought rationally, tried to save as many people as he could, did the right thing at every point. But those choices have led him to voluntarily slaughter four people, including his son. In that single shot of the military emerging from the Mist, Darabont takes this seemingly incomprehensible horror and condenses it into Drayton, creating for him an entirely new nightmare, arguably worse than the one he has just escaped.

(The fact that Darabont handles each of these old horror tropes with such subtlety and dexterity makes it all the more astounding that this is the same guy who directed The Shawshank Redemption. Not only that, but he worked for a year on a script for Indiana Jones 4, but which was rejected by George Lucas and replaced with the work of resounding mediocrity that was eventually released.)

I think that special mention has to be given to actor Thomas Jane (who plays Drayton), as his performance is these final scenes is stunning. His crushing, guttural screams are punctuated with brief moments of jaded, accepting calm, and seem much closer to a state of total despair than any more classically theatrical turn could convey.

It is the introduction of this type of horror in the final minutes that drives the film home and cements its position as an instant classic of the genre; the idea that being a good person and taking the noble path will not always lead to a happy ending. It’s like Lao Tzu says: “Heaven and Earth are cruel; They treat all living things as straw dogs.” No matter how much you believe in your ideals, how noble you consider yourself, it’s all dangerously relative. Because under great duress, even a seemingly infallible moral compass can lead people to do the most terrible, insane things imaginable.

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My First Scientology Audit

On a recent trip to Germany, I was walking around the beautiful city of Hamburg, when I happened upon the local Scientology church. I was approached by a friendly, English-speaking guy who invited me in to the building for a “chat”. Since I had seen most of the city already, and had a few hours to spare, I went in.

Hamburg Church Of Scientology

After a few questions about my religious beliefs etc (I stayed as neutral as possible), I was ushered downstairs into a impressive private cinema, which I had all to myself. There I watched two Scientology induction films. The first was about a young American football player who, after suffering an (evidently psychosomatic) back injury, is given an array of useless treatments by nasty doctors and a hilarious, scenery-chewing evil psychiatrist. Eventually, when he hits rock bottom, he discovers “Dianetics” by L. Ron Hubbard, and promptly makes a miraculous recovery. He struts out of the hospital, past the seething doctors and psychiatrist. Scientology saves the day.

Dianetics

The second film was an induction for Scientology newbies regarding the organisation’s structure. The production values were high, but featured that unique brand of sloppy editing in corporate presentations that has people either waiting far too long to do something, or doing it twice. It concluded with the blow-dried presenter speaking directly to the viewer, saying something like:

“You could walk out that door right now and never think of Scientology again. It would be incredibly stupid of you, but you could do it”…. “It’s your choice: An eternity of freezing agony, or total bliss.”

I was astonished by the nerve of these statements. This was Book of Revelations stuff. However, I maintained calm as I left the cinema and spoke further with my designated acolyte / interviewer. Funnily enough, the next group to go the cinema were a bunch of teenagers, obviously there for shits and giggles, who had to be kicked out, laughing their heads off. As my interviewer sat back down with me after performing this duty, he said, in English, “Jesus Christ!!”. I remember thinking, “Shouldn’t that be ‘L. Ron’?”

The interview continued, and though I was freaked out by what I had just seen, I still wanted to be “audited”. For those of you who don’t know, this is purportedly a “personality test” in which the Church detects which parts of your being are flawed and can be improved by induction proper.

Before being allowed to do this, however, I had to watch another film, this time an introduction to the auditing process. I don’t think that this film is usually shown to people who want to participate. The reason I say this is simply because the concepts outlined in it were absolutely bizarre and certainly off-putting to any reasonable individual. Personally, I was most confused by the video’s theory that unconsciousness or intense emotion were the states in which people were most likely to absorb information.

Reactive Mind

For example, if someone was involved in a car crash, and was unconscious in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, there should be no negative pronouncements – and preferably, no speech in general – by anyone else in the ambulance. The injured party, though unconscious, is acutely aware of their surroundings, and any information relayed here could affect them negatively for life. The same goes for anyone who has suffered a lesser injury, like a fall off a bike (and not necessarily been knocked unconscious). Everyone around must stay quiet.

What knocked me out of my seat altogether, however, was the scene in which a woman giving birth was surrounded by doctors who held fingers to their lips and said “Shhhhh!” – so as not to unintentionally place negative thoughts in the baby’s mind which would generate future neuroses. It seemed moot to point out that the infant brain’s as-yet undeveloped linguistic centre would be unable to recognise any structured language ( I wondered if I’d ever encountered anything else that supported the Scientologists’ bizarre pre-lingual theory, and I realised that I had: the film “Look Who’s Talking“…. starring über-ologists John Travolta and Kirstie Alley…! ).

I was informed that I would have to return the following day to have my audit performed. I thought, well, I’ve come this far. So return I did. I was introduced to an older lady with an hilarious name who would be my auditor. We took a lift to one of the building’s upper levels, stepped into a sterile office, and began. She decided, for reasons unknown to me, that I wouldn’t need to be hooked up to the infamous E-Meter machine, and we started into it.

E-Meter

The audit, such as it was, consisted of a huge range of questions, each of which had to be answered three times, and each of which had a particular emotion or tactile sensation attached to it. For example, I would be asked, “Can you think of a time when you felt angry?”, and the prescribed sensation would be “Light or Heavy”. So, you answered the question, explaining the memory in detail, and then had to say whether the scene “felt” light or heavy. Then, she would ask, “When was another time you felt angry?”, and finally, “When was the first time you felt angry”, each one a full scene description with the Light / Heavy parameters.

And yes, it was every bit as boring as it sounds. At the beginning, I sincerely tried to give honest answers, wanting to actually see proper results of this “personality test”. But after about 45 minutes of these triple – barrel questions, with seemingly non-sequitur addenda to every single one (Was the memory light, heavy, black, red, big, small, fast, slow etc), I found myself making up stories just to answer the questions as quickly as possible.

But even at that, I couldn’t seem to make any headway. At around the 1& 1/2 hour mark, I asked how much longer the session was going to take. At this, my auditor became quite concerned, saying that being in a hurry was not a psychic state conducive to accurate results. It seemed that the audit was going to take as long as it had to. I relented and continued. But after 2 hours I couldn’t take any more. I told her that I had another engagement (which she wanted to know all about) and simply had to leave.

I promised that I would return the following day (I did not return). And to be honest, the only reason I think they let me leave without a big scene was because I had expressed genuine interest in the religion, and seemed to have been fascinated by the audit. Still, I left the building and felt relieved.

Time Magazine Scientology

Thinking back on the audit, I noticed at least one huge fallacy in their beliefs. These are people who famously abhor psychiatry and psychotherapy as a means of personal growth, disregarding utterly the huge medical advances accomplished in these fields. And yet, in the audit itself, they used methods that pertain almost directly to psychotherapy.

For example, the whole idea of getting someone to recall vividly a memory, and it’s associated sensations, is a very powerful psychotherapeutic technique. NLP (Neurolinguistic Programming), one of newest branches of psychotherapy, uses it extensively, and is based on the idea of bringing the client into different “states”. The goal is to train people to access them at will, thereby allowing them to bypass anxious or depressive states.

The Scientology audit uses these exact same principles, but instead of moving towards a pure goal of personal development, the intent here is to get the client to associate the powerful experience of re-living memories to the auditor, and to the religion. This generates the false belief that the auditor has somehow accessed your deepest personal issues, the same issues that the religion can help fix (for a fee). The fact is that the auditor has done nothing more then encourage a self-induced semi-hypnotic state. They are covertly using the very same psychotherapeutic principles that the religion fervently claims to have debunked.

Indeed, the Scientologists’ dismissal of psychotherapy as a means of self-development is actually a typical cult tactic – the isolation of the individual. Just as Charles Manson kept orphans in a shack in Death Valley and Jim Jones took his subjects out of the US and into Guyana, Scientology must keep people isolated from, and resentful of, outside influences. They breed the idea that noone else can help you but “us”, that your mind and soul will be lost without “us”. (In fact, in researching this article, I learned that Charles Manson himself actually read and taught principles of Scientology).

David Miscavige

So yes, the whole auditing experience was bizarre, and quite unsettling. But I think what is so frightening about Scientology, to me at least, is not strictly the cultish nature of the religion, but the slick way that it’s presented. They sell this thing like it’s the new must-have product. And they do so using the worst type of corporate techniques; cheesy 3D graphics, suited guys, Stepford girls, and horrible, horrible editing, animation, posters, voiceovers etc. This is a business, pure and simple. There is not an ounce of the sincerity, tact or true compassion that people actually need when they find themselves in an existential crisis and searching for spiritual guidance.

Scientology is the ultimate form of bully-boy advertising:

“Buy this product…or your soul will perish!”

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Note: There is a ton of information available on the Internet about how Scientology is a highly dangerous organization, and how they exert massive pressure on anyone who speaks out against them, especially people who have left the religion. Here’s a selection of my favourite videos on the subject:

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“The Bridge” is an great low-budget movie that is highly critical of Scientology. Directed by the then 18-year-old Brett Hanover, the Church of Scientology tried to bury it. It’s fascinating in particular for it’s striking use of official Scientology videos within the narrative. Here’s the full movie on Google Video:

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In 2007, an episode of the BBC’s documentary series Panorama focused on the reality of the Church of Scientology. The investigator, John Sweeney was harassed at every turn as he tried to speak to interviewees who had left the church, and witnessed first-hand the brutal character assassination in which the church regularly engages. The documentary concludes with the now-infamous scene in which Sweeney loses his temper with the Church Rep who has been intimidating him.

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Jason Beghe, an accomplished actor, spent years dedicating his life to Scientology and rose to the higher levels of the religion’s hierarchy before becoming disillusioned and quitting it. In this interview, he talks about how he came to the realisation that the teachings were “retarded” and that he had invested years of his life in something “empty”. An intelligent and articulate man, Beghe’s discussion of Scientology from the inside is fascinating.

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And of course, how could I leave out the overview of the religion’s mythos as portrayed by the always-brilliant South Park?

Why Constraint Is Good

The amount of information available to us on the Internet is limitless,but how often do we actually take a look at a totally random site? When do we ever go on a trawl through hundreds of disparate pages, unless it’s for the purposes of research? On the other hand, sites like StumbleUpon and Digg are hugely popular, and becoming moreso.

Why are these filtration sites so popular? Don’t they somehow fly in the face of the random beauty of the Internet? Well, maybe from a technological perspective. But true chaos is not generally desirable to the human experience. We enjoy being held back, and it works in our favour.

Illustrations are readily evident in the creative arts. For example, the first Matrix film was a hugely ambitious project that drew in discrete elements of Manga, existentialist philosophy, martial arts, technology etc. It should have been a total mess. It wasn’t. The second and third Matrix films, however, used the exact same elements – and were total messes ( Come on, what the hell what going on in the third one?). The difference? Personally, I think it may have been the lack of constraints on the directors (the Wachowski brothers) after the monumental success of the first film. With their debut, they were taking a huge gamble and absolutely had to at least make it a little audience-friendly to guarantee box office returns. After that, Warner Bros said, “Hey guys, do whatever you want.” And the Wachowskis indulged, throwing everything and the kitchen sink into the sequels. Filmmaking with no restraints resulted in films that made no sense.

“Donnie Darko” is one of the most beautiful, rich films I’ve seen. The director, Richard Kelly was given a much bigger canvas and budget to make his second film, based on Donnie’s success. The result was “Southland Tales“, a free-jazz-on-film film that makes very little sense and, to my mind at least, is intensely boring.

Indeed, constraint is a wonderful thing when applied properly. It gives you something to prove, something to rail against.

Every self-help book worth its salt tells the reader that they absolutely must set out their goals. This may be via a process of writing them down, of intensive visualization, of telling your friends and family of your deadlines so that you will adhere to them. The common element with every goal that is set is that is immediately enforces a set of constraints. It focuses the mind like a laser, pushing out other, irrelevant thoughts. If you have one thing to do, and one thing only, the chances are that you will do it.

Constraint often equates with brevity, which can be a wonderful tool for effectively conveying information. Dan Brown’s “The Da Vinci Code“, which was an international publishing phenomenon, was notable for its concise chapters. Readers loved that; it made for a fast-paced read, which, though it heavy with religious and historical symbolism, was sectioned into easily-digested portions. One of my favourite books, The Lucifer Principle, does the same with an elaborate theory on the relationship between science and religion.

I think that’s why someone like Kurt Cobain or Bob Dylan will always be more appealing to the masses than guitar virtuosos like Steve Vai or Joe Satriani. Cobain and Dylan were and are much more restrained in terms of their musical ability, and that can be a good thing. There’s a scene in the Nirvana film “Live, Tonight, Sold Out!” where a music journalist described Nirvana’s music as being like nursery rhymes that you can’t get out of your head. I always thought that was very insightful; for example, “Come As You Are” is based on a slow riff that consists of 5 notes. Vai or Satriani, on the other hand, could easily play 10 notes per second on one of their tracks. Which is a fantastic ability, but complexity doesn’t necessarily mean quality. And it’s those nursery-rhyme, 5-note melodies that invariably seep into public consciousness and convey their message most effectively. I guess that’s why it’s ‘popular’ music.

I suppose the ideal is to have all of these creative tools at one’s disposal, but to still be able to maintain that popular sensibility when you want to use it. A great example of one such musician is Jeff Buckley; his technical abilities were second to none, but he was consistently able to distill them down to something subtle, refined and accessible.

And that’s a difficult thing to do, because having too many options can be crippling. It goes against the classical idea that more choice equates to more freedom, which equates to more happiness – but there it is. In his book “The Paradox Of Choice“, author Barry Schwartz argues ‘why the abundance of choice in modern society is actually making us miserable’. He says that it actually creates a state of paralysis; that having too many things to choose from makes it very difficult to actually make a choice. Not only that, but even if you do make a choice, and a good one at that, but the idea that you could have made a better decision in the first place can make you regretful.

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Here is Schwartz’ short lecture from the famous TedTalks series:

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Schwartz makes the example of clothing; when he was younger, buying a pair of jeans was simple. You went into the store and you bought the one type of jeans that was on the rack. And you were happy with them, because there was no other choice to make. Today, you go to buy a pair of jeans and are confronted with hundreds of varieties; faded, stone-washed, designer, boot cut, torn, brand-label etc etc. So while you may find a pair that fits and looks pretty good, the unrealised potentiality of choice still hangs over you. And if you do happen to find something – anything – wrong with those jeans, it can only be your fault. Why? Because the choice was all yours.

This may seem trivial, but if you expand that phenomenon across millions of different products, combined with the incessant psychic pummeling of advertising (which tells us explicitly that we will be unhappy if we make the wrong choice), we can imagine the rate of misery generated growing exponentially. We are told that we need the products to be content; then the range of choice makes contentment, even with the product, impossible anyway.

Henry Ford said about his cars, “You can have it in any colour, as long as it’s black”. And that was coming from one of the most successful industrialists of the twentieth century. That’s not to say that “the good old days” of one choice only were perfect. But having one choice certainly makes things a lot simpler, and seems to promote contentment. Even if that one choice is far from ideal, it still gives the chooser something to complain about and fight against; a goal of sorts. But limitless choice means that the burden of responsibility is totally on the shoulders of the chooser. There is no constraint, the individual becomes a veritable island of personal responsibility – and that can lead to a great deal of misery.

Why Fundamentalism Reflects The Unevolved Mind

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In March 2008, the outspoken Dutch politician Geert Wilders released his short film, entitled “Fitna” onto the Internet. The piece is a savage critique of fundamentalist Islam, and purports that the religion as a whole has an intrinsically bellicose nature.

Wilders supports this suggestion with a selection of warlike quotes from the Koran, such as:

“They but wish that ye should reject faith, as they do, and thus be on the same footing as they, so take not friends from their ranks until they flee in the way of Allah. But if they turn renegades, seize them and kill them wherever ye find them, and take no friends or helpers from their ranks.”

In order to indicate a link between these modern-day atrocities and the age-old texts, he shows us images of 9/11, the Madrid and London bombings and footage of the beheading of hostage Eugene Armstrong. We see clips of various extremist Islamic preachers, proclaiming in no uncertain terms that it is the Muslim’s duty to terminate any non-believers with extreme prejudice; “Annihilate the infidels and the polytheists”, “Allah is happy when non-Muslims get killed”, etc.

Wilders’ film ends with a written postscript:

“It is not up to me, but up to Moslems themselves to tear out the hateful verses from the Koran. Muslims want you to make way for Islam, but Islam does not make way for you. The government insists that you respect Islam, but Islam has no respect for you. Islam wants to rule, submit, and seeks to destroy our Western civilization. In 1945, Nazism was defeated in Europe. In 1989, Communism was defeated in Europe. Now, the Islamic ideology has to be defeated.”

The International community was acutely aware of the film’s prospective impact, even before it was released. When a video alleged to be a trailer for the short film was put on YouTube, Pakistan blocked the site from being accessed across the entire country. This actually resulted in the site going offline around the world for two hours.

When the film became available on the Internet, tensions grew. Political condemnation was worldwide and virtually unanimous. Public protests took place in Dam Square, Amsterdam. On the 7th of April, Indonesia blocked and continues to block YouTube because of its refusal to remove Fitna from its servers. Muslim nations have invariably threatened, at the very least, a review of their diplomatic relations with the Netherlands.

And a Fatwa has been put out on the life of Wilders himself. This is no empty threat; another Dutch filmmaker, Theo Vah Gogh (a descendant of Vincent’s family) was murdered after he made a film entitled “Submission”, about the physical and mental abuse that women often suffer in Islamic societies. The film was well received by some, but caused an uproar in Muslim communities.

As a result, on November 2nd 2004, a Muslim extremist named Mohammed Bouyeri murdered Van Gogh in Amsterdam as he cycled to work. Bouyeri shot Van Gogh eight times, slashed his throat (almost to the point of decapitation) and stabbed him in the chest. He also left a note pinned to the body, threatening jihad against Jews and Western governments. That was the climate in which Wilders made his own, arguably more controversial film.

Considering the circumstances, it seems very difficult for any non-religious person to side with Wilders’ film. Certainly, yes, it only presents one side of the story, but regardless of the film, the evidence seems highly stacked in favour of his argument. Fitna‘s featured preachers unequivocally desire conflict against the kuffars (non-believers) and believe that Islam can and should be the world’s sole religion.

The problem is that religious intolerance is considered such an awful taboo, such anathema to the mores of Western civilization, that it allows hate speech, indoctrination and mob mentality to exist untouched as long as it poses as the free expression of religious tenets. This allows aspects of fundamentalism to insinuate themselves into mainstream culture.

Islam is just one example of this phenomenon; Christian fundamentalism is rife in the USA; children are sent to camps to learn total submission to antiquated Catholic values. They speak in glossolalia and shed tears of joy, believing themselves to be conduits of the good Lord’s will. Of course, this all has practical uses, it creates an army of non-questioning youths who disdain abortion, divorce, sex before marriage etc; and who support totally the actions of a Christian president who wants to spread democracy overseas.

(Indeed, there’s been a lot of controversy recently about Barack Obama’s preacher, Jeremiah Wright, mainly because he has stated that 9/11 was a direct result of US’ interference with Middle Eastern nations. The very idea that America may have actually been partially responsible for the attacks that day is abhorrent to good American Christians, so they call the man a “traitor”.)

I don’t think that any religion is immune to this phenomenon (except possibly Buddhism, which embraces the questioning of even its most sacred beliefs), and Islam tends to enforce its rules with particular brutality. And it does so at the expense of countries that allow it to flourish. Indeed, the tremendous hypocrisy is that it abuses the open laws of countries that allow people of varying religions to settle there. They are allowed to practice their religions unmolested, and then preach hatred against the openness of the very cultures that allow them the freedoms of speech to do so in the first place.

I’m aware that it’s quite difficult to make this argument without getting into countrified “Not In My Back Yard” moralities. But there is a line. For example, the Latvian government recently jailed an Englishman for urinating on the Freedom Monument in Riga. The Freedom Monument is a tribute to those who fought and died in the Latvian War of Independence, and some drunken guy taking a piss on it was a terrible insult to the Latvian people. The Latvian foreign minister called the English “pigs” and threw the man in jail. And there was no international condemnation of the action.

On the other hand, when an English teacher in the Sudan allowed a class to name a teddy bear “Mohammad”, she was convicted of “insulting religion, inciting hatred and showing contempt for religious beliefs” by Islamic authorities. She was sentenced to 15 days in jail and was deported upon release. Not only that, but

“…approximately 400 protesters took to the streets, some of them waving swords and machetes, demanding Gibbons’s execution after imams denounced her during Friday prayers. During the march, chants of “Shame, shame on the UK”, “No tolerance – execution” and “Kill her, kill her by firing squad” were heard. Witnesses reported that government employees were involved in inciting the protests.” Wikipedia

Wanting to end someone’s life because of the name they gave a teddy bear suggests something more to me than simple religious offence. I think that many people, and certainly those who subscribe to the fundamentalist aspects of any religion, are assuming a personality type; the kind that tends towards the total abdication of individual responsibility.

True responsibility is an imposing prospect. It involves a lot of work. It involves searching the Gods, quite literally, for the meaning of life. It involves the realization that everyone else’s actions make just as much sense to them as yours do to you. It involves the admission that you, and you alone, are responsible for your actions; if you insult your friend, beat your wife, kill someone, it’s because you chose to do it, not because some ancient text gave you permission. It’s liberating, but it also deletes a huge portion of one’s ego and cuts you adrift from the woolly cotton braids of what at least purports to be “tradition”.

In that sense, it’s interesting that the word Islam actually means “submission”. Because that’s what fundamentalism demands. And it’s attractive. It entices so many because it offers the promise of an easier life. It offers a psychological return to the womb, where some all-powerful entity will provide you with all you need to survive; you don’t need to make any decisions for yourself, because everything has been already decided for you.

The problem with that, though, is that when these people see others taking responsibility for their lives, exploring the wonders and limits of existence, it drives them hog-wild. It wounds them so deeply because in their heart of hearts, they know that they are missing out. If there is any spark of human curiosity left in them, it flares up and reminds them that they have cravenly abandoned their duties. It’s like ol’ Fred Nietszche says; “Fear is the mother of morality”.

It seems similar, to me at least, to the actions of the classic sociopath. This person indulges in anti-social behaviour, but, when confronted with the the truth (or any criticism whatsoever) of their actions, reacts with furious disdain. It’s similar to a child who has been caught lying, but who continues lying to maintain their innocence. They know they’re in the wrong, and the only way they can react is with anger, tears and even violence.

Fortunately for religious zealots, this anger, these tears and violence can be channeled through the untouchable medium of religious outrage. Claiming insult of one’s theistic persuasion is thus used as the basis to lash out at others for any and all of man’s frailties; sexual frustration, mortality, depression, fear. All of this encourages a regression to tribalism – mob mentalities that rail against centuries of progress in racial integration. The non-believers are less worthy than believers, and that’s non-negotiable.

To reiterate, this is certainly not confined to Islam. And like other religions, Islam has an introspective, mystic tradition that encourages reflection, non-violence and self-discovery (Sufism). Christianity had a similar tradition, known as Gnosticism. In fact, it could be argued that religion regularly seems to reflect different personalities, or at least, personalities at different levels of maturity. People are drawn to whatever aspects of  their religion that tend to echo their own beliefs and experiences. If you desire peace and love, both Christianity and Islam can be argued to justify that. If you want violence and bloodshed, both can be argued to justify that, too.

(I wonder if so many of these old religious texts, written in such vague aphorisms, are actually meant to be gauges of man’s maturity as a civilization. Since they seem to be textual Rorschach tests, people tend to draw from them what they will; love, hatred, peace, violence, whatever.)

But what if the believers in violence and bloodshed start to encroach on the progress of peace? Well, that’s the heart of the problem; the cultures that have embraced racial and religious integration are slow to do anything for fear of violating their own democratic ideals. In doing so, they may allow hate speech to flow and the warlike traits of the collective psyche to grow.

I recently came across a proverb that went something like this:

“The problem with the world is that wise people are open-minded and unsure, but the foolish are absolutely certain.”

I think that sums it up. The heads of our democracies must be wary of and penalize those who would preach racism, insularity and violence. Doing so does not violate the tenets of democracy, it encourages them.

As I have argued, religion tends to reflect aspects of the individual personality. In the same way that the most peaceful person may sometimes feel a jolt of fury or jealousy, they must dispel these feelings instead of letting them fester and grow. But that involves a personal decision and personal action.

And it’s action that must be taken; otherwise, the fears and tribalisms can take hold from within and undo so much of the progress of personal and social evolution. Although a world of total peace and integration would be wonderful, we haven’t reached it yet. And if the road to it is left unpoliced, we never will.

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Further Viewing:

Geert Wilders’ “Fitna”

Channel 4 Dispatches: Undercover Mosque

Documentary featuring undercover investigation into the influence of religious extremism throughout the UK.