What Women Were Never Told About Weight, Aging, and Control
The Science They Never Told Us
This is the first episode of 2026, and I wanted to start the year by slowing things down, getting a bit personal instead of chasing the latest talking points.
At the end of last year, I spent time reading a few books that genuinely stopped me in my tracks. Not because they offered a new diet or a new protocol, but because they challenged something much deeper: the story we’ve been told about discipline, control, and women’s bodies.
There is a reason women’s bodies change across the lifespan. And it has very little to do with willpower, discipline, or personal failure.
In Why Women Need Fat, evolutionary biologists William Lassek and Steven Gaulin make the case that most modern conversations about women’s weight are fundamentally misinformed. Not because women are doing something wrong, but because we’ve built our expectations on a misunderstanding of what female bodies are actually designed to do.
A major part of their argument focuses on how industrialization radically altered the balance of omega-6 to omega-3 fatty acids in the modern food supply, particularly through seed oils and ultra-processed foods. They make a compelling case that this shift plays a role in rising obesity and metabolic dysfunction at the population level.
I agree that this imbalance matters, and it’s a topic that deserves its own full episode. At the same time, it does not explain every woman’s story. Diet composition can influence metabolism, but it cannot override prolonged stress, illness, hormonal disruption, nervous system dysregulation, or years of restriction. In my own case, omega-6 intake outside of naturally occurring sources is relatively low and does not account for the changes I’ve experienced. That matters, because it reminds us that biology is layered. No single variable explains a complex adaptive system.
One of the most important ideas in the book is that fat distribution matters more than fat quantity.
Women do not store fat the same way men do. A significant portion of female body fat is stored in the hips and thighs, known as gluteofemoral fat. This fat is metabolically distinct from abdominal or visceral fat. It is more stable, less inflammatory, and relatively enriched in long-chain fatty acids, including DHA, which plays a key role in fetal brain development.
From an evolutionary standpoint, this makes sense. Human infants are born with unusually large, energy-hungry brains. Women evolved to carry nutritional reserves that could support pregnancy and lactation, even during times of scarcity. In that context, having fat on your lower body was not a flaw or a failure. It was insurance.
From this perspective, fat is not excess energy. It is deferred intelligence, stored in anticipation of future need. This is where waist-to-hip ratio enters the conversation.
Across cultures and historical periods, a lower waist-to-hip ratio in women has been associated with reproductive health, metabolic resilience, and successful pregnancies. This is not about thinness, aesthetics, or moral worth. It is about fat function, not fat fear, and about how different tissues behave metabolically inside the body. It is about where fat is stored and how it functions.
And in today’s modern culture we have lost that distinction.
Instead of asking what kind of fat a woman carries, we became obsessed with how much. Instead of understanding fat as tissue with purpose, we turned it into a moral scoreboard. Hips became a problem. Thighs became something to shrink. Curves became something to discipline.
Another central idea in Why Women Need Fat is biological set point.
The authors argue that women’s bodies tend to defend a natural weight range when adequately nourished and not under chronic stress. When women remain below that range through restriction, over-exercise, or prolonged under-fueling, the body does not interpret that as success. It interprets it as threat.
Over time, the body adapts, not out of defiance, but out of protection.
Metabolism slows. Hunger and fullness cues become unreliable. Hormonal systems compensate. When the pressure finally eases, weight often rebounds, sometimes beyond where it started, because the body is trying to restore safety.
From this perspective, midlife weight gain, post-illness weight gain, or weight gain after years of restriction is not mysterious. It is not rebellion. It is regulation.
None of this is taught to women.
Instead, we are told that if our bodies change, we failed. That aging is optional. That discipline and botox should override biology. That the number on the scale tells the whole story.
So, before we talk about culture, family, trauma, or personal experience, this matters:
Women’s bodies are not designed to stay static. They are designed to adapt.
Once you understand that, everything else in this conversation changes.
Why the Body Became the Battlefield
This is where historian Joan Jacobs Brumberg’s work in The Body Project: An Intimate History of American Girls, provides essential context, but it requires some precision.
Girls have not always been free from shame. Shame itself is not new. What has changed is what women are taught to be ashamed of, and how that shame operates in daily life.
Brumberg asks a question that still feels unresolved today: Why is the body still a girl’s nemesis? Shouldn’t sexually liberated girls feel better about themselves than their corseted counterparts a century ago?
Based on extensive historical research, including diaries written by American girls from the 1830s through the 1990s, Brumberg shows that although girls today enjoy more formal freedoms and opportunities, they are also under more pressure and at greater psychological risk. This is due to a unique convergence of biological vulnerability and cultural forces that turned the adolescent female body into a central site of social meaning during the twentieth century.
In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, girls did not typically grow up fixated on thinness, calorie control, or constant appearance monitoring. Their diaries were not filled with measurements or food rules. Instead, they wrote primarily about character, self-restraint, moral development, relationships, and their roles within family and community.
One 1892 diary entry reads:
“Resolved, not to talk about myself or feelings. To think before speaking. To work seriously. To be self-restrained in conversation and in actions. Not to let my thoughts wander. To be dignified. Interest myself more in others.”
In earlier eras, female shame was more often tied to behavior, sexuality, obedience, and virtue. The body mattered, but primarily as a moral symbol rather than an aesthetic project requiring constant surveillance and correction.
That changed dramatically in the twentieth century.
Brumberg documents how the mother-daughter connection loosened, particularly around menstruation, sexuality, and bodily knowledge. Where female relatives and mentors once guided girls through these transitions, doctors, advertisers, popular media, and scientific authority increasingly stepped in to fill that role.
At the same time, mass media, advertising, film, and medicalized beauty standards created a new and increasingly exacting ideal of physical perfection. Changing norms around intimacy and sexuality also shifted the meaning of virginity, turning it from a central moral value into an outdated or irrelevant one. What replaced it was not freedom from scrutiny, but a different kind of pressure altogether.
By the late twentieth century, girls were increasingly taught that their bodies were not merely something they inhabited, but something they were responsible for perfecting.
A 1982 diary entry captures this shift starkly:
“I will try to make myself better in any way I possibly can with the help of my budget and baby-sitting money. I will lose weight, get new lenses, already got a new haircut, good makeup, new clothes and accessories.”
What changed was not the presence of shame, but its location. Shame moved inward.
Rather than being externally enforced through rules and prohibitions, it became self-policed. Girls were taught to monitor themselves constantly, to evaluate their bodies from the outside, and to treat appearance as the primary expression of identity and worth.
Brumberg is explicit on this point. The fact that American girls now make their bodies their central project is not an accident or a cultural curiosity. It is a symptom of historical changes that are only beginning to be fully understood.
This is where more recent work, such as Louise Perry’s The Case Against the Sexual Revolution, helps extend Brumberg’s analysis into the present moment. Perry argues that while sexual liberation promised autonomy and empowerment, it often left young women navigating powerful biological and emotional realities without the social structures that once offered protection, guidance, or meaning. In that vacuum, the body became one of the few remaining sites where control still seemed possible.
The result is a paradox. Girls are freer in theory, yet more burdened in practice. The body, once shaped by communal norms and shared female knowledge, becomes a solitary project, managed under intense cultural pressure and constant comparison.
For many girls, this self-surveillance does not begin with magazines or social media. It begins at home, absorbed through tone, comments, and modeling from the women closest to them.
Brumberg argues that body dissatisfaction is often transmitted from mother to daughter, not out of cruelty, but because those mothers inherited the same aesthetic anxieties. Over time, body shame becomes a family inheritance, passed down quietly and persistently.
Some mothers transmit it subtly.
Others do it bluntly.
This matters not because my experience is unique, but because it illustrates what happens when a body shaped by restriction, stress, and cultural pressure is asked to perform indefinitely. Personal stories are often dismissed as anecdotal, but they are where biological theory meets lived reality.
I grew up in a household where my body was not simply noticed. It was scrutinized, compared, and commented on. Comments like that do not fade with time. They shape how you see yourself in mirrors and photographs. They teach you that your body must be managed and monitored. They plant the belief that staying small is the price of safety.
So, I grew up believing that if I could control my body well enough, I could avoid humiliation. I could avoid becoming the punchline. I could avoid being seen in the wrong way.
For a while, I turned that fear into discipline.
The Years Before the Collapse: A Lifetime of Restriction and Survival
Food never felt simple for me. Long before bodybuilding, chronic pain, or COVID, I carried a strained relationship with eating. Growing up in a near constant state of anxiety meant that hunger cues often felt unpredictable. Eating was something to plan around or push through. It rarely felt intuitive or easy.
Because of this, I experimented with diets that replaced real meals with cereal or shakes. I followed plans like the Special K diet. I relied on Carnation Instant Breakfast instead of full meals. My protein intake was low. My fear of gaining weight was high. Restriction became familiar.
Top left is when I started working out obsessively at age 16, top right and bottom photo are from middle school when I was at my “heaviest” that drove the disordered behaviors.
In college, I became a strict vegetarian out of compassion for animals, but I did not understand how to meet my nutritional needs. I was studying dietetics and earning personal training certifications while running frequently and using exercise as a way to maintain control. From the outside, I looked disciplined. Internally, my relationship with food and exercise remained tense and inconsistent.
Later, I became involved in a meal-replacement program through an MLM. I replaced two meals a day with shakes and practiced intermittent fasting framed as “cleanse days.” In hindsight, this was structured under-eating presented as wellness. It fit seamlessly into patterns I had lived in for years.
Eating often felt overwhelming. Cooking felt like a hurdle. Certain textures bothered me. My appetite felt fragile and unreliable. This sensory sensitivity existed long before the parosmia that would come years later. From early on, food was shaped by stress rather than nourishment.
During this entire period, I was also on hormonal birth control, first the NuvaRing and later the Mirena IUD, for nearly a decade. Long-term hormonal modulation can influence mood, inflammation, appetite, and weight distribution. It added another layer of complexity to a system already under strain.
Looking back, I can see that my teens and twenties were marked by near constant restriction. Restriction felt normal. Thriving did not.
The book Why Women Need Fat discusses the idea of a biological weight “set point,” the range a body tends to return to when conditions are stable and adequately nourished. I now understand that I remained below my natural set point for years through force rather than balance. My biology never experienced consistency or safety.
This was the landscape I carried into my thirties.
The Body I Built and the Body That Broke
By the time I entered the bodybuilding world in 2017 and 2018, I already had years of chronic under-eating, over-exercising, and nutrient gaps behind me. Bodybuilding did not create my issues. It amplified them.
I competed in four shows. People admired the discipline and the physique. Internally, my body was weakening. I was overtraining and undereating. By 2019, my immune system began to fail. I developed severe canker sores, sometimes twenty or more at once. I started noticing weight-loss resistance. Everything I had done in the past, was no longer working. On my thirty-fifth birthday, I got shingles. My energy crashed. My emotional bandwidth narrowed. My body was asking for rest, but I did not know how to slow down.
Around this time, I was also navigating eating disorder recovery. Learning how to eat without panic or rigid control was emotionally exhausting even under ideal circumstances… but little did I know things were about to take a massive turn for the worst.
COVID, Sensory Loss, and the Unraveling of Appetite
After getting sick with the ‘vid late 2020, everything shifted again. I developed parosmia, a smell and taste distortion that made many foods taste rotten or chemical. Protein and cooked foods often tasted spoiled. Herbs smelled like artificial chemical. Eating became distressing and, at times, impossible.
My appetite dropped significantly. There were periods where my intake was very low, yet my weight continued to rise. This is not uncommon following illness or prolonged stress. The body often shifts into energy conservation, prioritizing survival overweight regulation.
Weight gain became another source of grief. Roughly thirty pounds over the next five years. I feel embarrassed and avoid photographs. I often worry about how others will perceive me.
If this experience resonates, it is important to say this clearly: your body is not betraying you. It is responding to stress, illness, and prolonged strain in the way bodies are designed to respond.
When years of restriction, intense exercise, chronic stress, illness, hormonal shifts, and emotional trauma accumulate, the body often enters a protective state. Metabolism slows. Hormonal signaling shifts. Hunger cues become unreliable. Weight gain or resistance to weight loss can occur even during periods of low intake, because energy regulation is being driven by survival physiology rather than simple calorie balance.
This is not failure. It is physiology.
The calories-in, calories-out model does not account for thyroid suppression, nervous system activation, sleep disruption, pain, trauma, or metabolic adaptation. It reduces a complex biological system to arithmetic.
Women are not machines. We are adaptive systems built for survival. Sometimes resilience looks like holding onto energy when the body does not feel safe.
Despite this biological reality, we live in a culture that ties women’s value to discipline and appearance. When women gain weight, even under extreme circumstances, we blame ourselves before questioning the system.
Diet culture frames shrinking as virtue.
Toxic positivity encourages acceptance without context.
Industrial food environments differ radically from those our ancestors evolved in.
Medical systems often dismiss women’s pain and metabolic complexity.
Social media amplifies comparison and moralizes body size.
None of this is your fault. And all of it shapes your experience.
This is why understanding the science matters. This is why telling the truth matters. This is why sharing stories matters.
In the book, More Than a Body, Lindsay and Lexie Kite describe how women are taught to relate to themselves through constant self-monitoring. Instead of living inside our bodies, we learn to watch ourselves from the outside. We assess how we look, how we are perceived, and whether our bodies are acceptable in a given moment.
This constant self-surveillance does real harm. It pulls attention away from hunger, pain, fatigue, and intuition. It trains women to override bodily signals in favor of appearance management. And over time, it creates a split where the body is treated as a project to control rather than a system to understand or care for.
When you layer this kind of self-objectification on top of chronic stress, restriction, illness, and trauma, the result is not empowerment. It is disconnection. And disconnection makes it even harder to hear what the body needs when something is wrong.
Weight gain is not just a biological response. It becomes a moral verdict. And that is how women end up fighting bodies that are already struggling to keep them alive.
The Inheritance Ends Here
For a long time, I believed that breaking generational cycles only applied to mothers and daughters. I do not have children, so I assumed what I inherited would simply end with me, unchanged.
Brumberg’s work helped me see this differently.
What we inherit is not passed down only through parenting. It moves through tone, silence, and self-talk. It appears in how women speak about their bodies in front of others. It lives in the way shame is normalized.
I inherited a legacy of body shame. Even on the days when I still feel its weight, I am choosing not to repeat it.
For me, the inheritance ends with telling the truth about this journey and refusing to speak to my body with the same cruelty I absorbed growing up. It ends here.
Closing the Circle: Your Body Is Not Broken
I wish I could end this with a simple story of resolution. I cannot. I am still in the middle of this. I still grieve. I still struggle with eating and movement. I am still learning how to inhabit a body that feels unfamiliar.
But I know this: my body is not my enemy. She is not malfunctioning. She is adapting to a lifetime of stress, illness, restriction, and emotional weight.
If you are in a similar place, I hope this offers permission to stop fighting yourself and start understanding the patterns your body is following. Not because everything will suddenly improve, but because clarity is often the first form of compassion.
Your body is not betraying you. She is trying to keep you here.
And sometimes the most honest thing we can do is admit that we are still finding our way.
References
Brumberg, J. J. (1997). The Body Project: An Intimate History of American Girls. Random House.
Lassek, W. D., & Gaulin, S. J. C. (2011). Why Women Need Fat: How “Healthy” Food Makes Us Gain Excess Weight and the Surprising Solution to Losing It Forever. Hudson Street Press.
Kite, L., & Kite, L. (2020). More Than a Body: Your Body Is an Instrument, Not an Ornament. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.
Scientific and academic sources
Lassek, W. D., & Gaulin, S. J. C. (2006). Changes in body fat distribution in relation to parity in American women. Evolution and Human Behavior, 27(3), 173–185.
Lassek, W. D., & Gaulin, S. J. C. (2008). Waist–hip ratio and cognitive ability. Proceedings of the Royal Society B, 275(1644), 193–199.
Dulloo, A. G., Jacquet, J., & Montani, J. P. (2015). Adaptive thermogenesis in human body-weight regulation. Obesity Reviews, 16(S1), 33–43.
Fothergill, E., et al. (2016). Persistent metabolic adaptation after weight loss. Obesity, 24(8), 1612–1619.
Kyle, U. G., et al. (2004). Body composition interpretation. American Journal of Clinical Nutrition, 79(6), 955–962.
Simopoulos, A. P. (2016). Omega-6/omega-3 balance and obesity risk. Nutrients, 8(3), 128.
Trauma, stress, and nervous system context
Sapolsky, R. M. (2004). Why Zebras Don’t Get Ulcers. Henry Holt and Company.
Walker, P. (2013). Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving. Azure Coyote Books.
This episode isn’t about religion versus religion. It’s about power, fear, and what happens inside belief systems when conformity becomes more important than honesty.
In this conversation, I’m joined by Sigrin, founder of Universal Pagan Temple.
She’s a practicing Pagan, a witch, a public educator, and someone who speaks openly about leaving Christianity after experiencing fear-based theology, spiritual control, and shame. I want to pause here, because even as an agnostic, when I hear the word witch, my brain still flashes to the cartoon villain version. Green. Ugly. Evil. That image didn’t come from nowhere. It was taught.
One of the things we get into in this conversation is how morality actually functions in Pagan traditions, and how different that framework is from what most people assume.
She describes leaving Christianity not as rebellion, but as self-preservation. And what pushed her out wasn’t God. It was other Christians.
For many people, Christianity isn’t learned from scripture. It’s learned from other Christians.
The judgment. The constant monitoring. The fear of being seen as wrong, dangerous, or spiritually compromised.
In high-control Christian environments, conformity equals safety. Questioning creates anxiety. And the fear of social punishment often becomes stronger than belief itself.
When belonging is conditional, faith turns into survival.
What We Cover in This Conversation:
Paganism Beyond Aesthetics
A lot of people hear “Paganism” and immediately picture vibes, trends, or cosplay. We spend time breaking that assumption apart.
Sigrin explains that many beginners jump straight into ritual without actually invoking or dedicating to the divine.
She talks about the difference between aesthetic practice and intentional practice.
For people who don’t yet feel connected to a specific god or goddess, she offers grounded guidance on how to approach devotion without forcing it.
We talk about the transition she experienced moving from Christianity, to atheism, to polytheism.
We explore the role of myth, story, and symbolism in spiritual life.
She shares her experience of feeling an energy she couldn’t deny, even after rejecting belief entirely.
We touch on the wide range of ways Pagans relate to pantheons, including devotional, symbolic, ancestral, and experiential approaches.
The takeaway here isn’t “believe this.” It’s that Paganism isn’t shallow, trendy, or uniform. It’s relational.
No Holy Book, No Central Authority
One of the most misunderstood aspects of Paganism is the absence of a single text or governing authority.
Sigrin references a line she often uses: “If you get 20 witches in a room, you’ll have 40 different beliefs.”
We talk about how Pagan traditions don’t operate under enforced doctrine or centralized belief.
She brings up the 42 Negative Confessions from ancient Egyptian tradition as an example of ethical self-statements rather than commandments.
These function more like reflections on character than laws imposed from above.
We compare this to moral storytelling across different myth traditions rather than rigid rule-following.
She emphasizes intuition and empathy as core tools for ethical decision-making.
I add the role of self-reflection and introspection in systems without external enforcement.
This raises an important question: without a script, responsibility shifts inward.
Why This Can Be Hard After Christianity
We also talk honestly about why this freedom can be uncomfortable, especially for people leaving authoritarian religion.
Sigrin notes how difficult it can be to release belief in hell, even after leaving Christianity.
Fear doesn’t disappear just because belief changes.
When morality was once externally enforced, internal trust has to be rebuilt.
Pagan paths often require learning how to sit with uncertainty rather than replacing one authority with another.
This isn’t easier. It’s quieter. And it asks more of the individual.
That backdrop matters, because it shapes how Paganism gets misunderstood, misrepresented, and framed as dangerous.
The “Pagan Threat” Narrative
One of the reasons Pagan Threat has gained attention and sparked controversy is not just its content, but whose voice it carries and how it’s framed at the outset.
The book was written by Pastor Lucas Miles, a senior director with Turning Point USA Faith and author of other conservative religious critiques. The project is positioned as a warning about what Miles sees as threats to the church and American society. The foreword was written by Charlie Kirk, founder of Turning Point USA. His introduction positions the book as urgent for Christians to read.
From there, the book makes a striking claim:
It describes Christianity as a religion of freedom, while framing Paganism as operating under a hive mind or collective groupthink.
A key problem is which Paganism the book is actually engaging.
The examples Miles focuses on overwhelmingly reflect liberal, online, or activist-adjacent Pagan spaces, particularly those aligned with progressive identity politics.
That narrow focus gets treated as representative of Paganism as a whole.
Conservative Pagans, reconstructionist traditions, land-based practices, and sovereignty-focused communities are largely ignored.
As a result, “wokeness” becomes a kind of explanatory shortcut.
Modern political anxieties get mapped onto Paganism.
Gender ideology, progressive activism, and left-leaning culture get blamed on an ancient and diverse spiritual category.
Paganism becomes a convenient container for everything the author already opposes.
We also talk openly about political realignment, and why neither of us fits cleanly into the right/left binary anymore. I raise the importance of actually understanding Queer Theory, rather than using “queer” as a vague identity umbrella.
To help visualize this, I reference a chart breaking down five tiers of the far left, which I’ll include here for listeners who want context.
Next, in our conversation, Sigrin explains why the groupthink accusation feels completely inverted to anyone who has actually practiced Paganism.
Pagan traditions lack central authority, universal doctrine, or an enforcement mechanism.
Diversity of belief isn’t a flaw. It’s a defining feature.
Pagan communities often openly disagree, practice differently, and resist uniformity by design.
The “hive mind” label ignores that reality and instead relies on a caricature built from a narrow and selective sample.
“Trotter and Le Bon concluded that the group mind does not think in the restricted sense of the word. In place of thoughts, it has impulses, habits, and emotions. Lacking an independent mind, its first impulse is usually to follow the example of a trusted leader. This is one of the most firmly established principles of mass psychology.” Propaganda by Edward L. Bernays
We contrast this with Christian systems that rely on shared creeds, orthodoxy, and social enforcement to maintain cohesion.
Accusations of groupthink, in that context, often function as projection from environments where conformity is tied to spiritual safety.
In those systems, agreement is often equated with faithfulness and deviation with danger.
Globalism, Centralization, and Historical Irony
We end the conversation by stepping back and looking at the bigger historical picture.
The book positions Christianity as the antidote to globalism.
At the same time, it advocates coordinated religious unification, political mobilization, and cultural enforcement.
That contradiction becomes hard to ignore once you zoom out historically.
Sigrin points out that pre-Christian Pagan worlds were not monolithic.
Ancient polytheist societies were highly localized.
City-states and regions had their own gods, rituals, myths, and customs.
Religious life varied widely from place to place, even within the same broader culture.
I reference The Darkening Age by Catherine Nixey, which documents this diversity in detail.
Pagan societies weren’t unified under a single doctrine.
There was no universal creed to enforce across regions.
Difference wasn’t a problem to be solved. It was normal.
Christianity, by contrast, became one of the first truly globalizing religious systems.
A single truth claim.
A centralized authority structure.
A mandate to replace local traditions rather than coexist with them.
That history makes the book’s framing ironic.
Paganism gets labeled “globalist,” despite being inherently local and decentralized.
Christianity gets framed as anti-globalist, while proposing further consolidation of belief, power, and authority.
What This Is Actually About
This isn’t about attacking Christians as people. And it’s not about defending Paganism as a brand.
It is a critique of how certain forms of Christianity function when belief hardens into certainty and certainty turns into control.
Fear-based religion and fear-based ideology share the same problem. They promise safety. They demand conformity. And they struggle with humility.
That doesn’t describe every Christian. But it does describe systems that rely on fear, surveillance, and moral enforcement to survive.
What I appreciate about this conversation is the reminder that spirituality doesn’t have to look like domination, hierarchy, or a battle plan.
It can be rooted. Local. Embodied.
It can ask something of you without erasing you.
And whether someone lands in Paganism, Christianity, or somewhere else entirely, the question isn’t “Which side are you on?”
It’s whether your beliefs make you more honest, more grounded, and more responsible for how you live.
That’s what I hope people sit with after listening.
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Archaeology, “External Evidence,” and Groundhog Day in the Comment Section
Welcome back to Taste of Truth Tuesdays, where we stay curious, stay skeptical, and keep a healthy distance from any dogma, whether it’s wrapped in a Bible verse or a political ideology.
This is Part Two of my Jesus Myth series, and I’m going to be straight with you:
This one is a doozy. Buckle up, buttercup. Feel free to pause and come back.
Originally, the plan was to bring David Fitzgerald back for another conversation. If you listened to Part One, you know he’s done a ton to popularize the idea that Jesus never existed and to dismantle Christian dogma. I still agree with the core mythicist claim: I don’t think the Jesus of the Gospels was a real historical person. If you missed it, here is the link.
But agreeing with someone’s conclusion doesn’t mean I hand them a free pass on how they argue.
After our first interview, I went deeper into Fitzgerald’s work and into critiques of it (especially Tim O’Neill’s long atheist review that absolutely shreds his method.) While his critique of Fitzgerald’s arguments is genuinely useful; his habit of branding people with political labels (“Trump supporter,” “denier”) to discredit them is… very regressive.
It’s the same purity-testing impulse you see in progressive (should be regressive) spaces, just performed in a different costume.
And that’s what finally pushed me over the edge: The more I watch the atheist/deconstruction world online, the more it reminded me of the exact rigid, dogmatic cultures people say they escaped.
Not all atheists, obviously. But a very loud chunk of that ecosystem runs on:
dunking, dog-piling, and humiliation
tribal loyalty, not actual inquiry
“You’re dead to me” energy toward anyone who may lean conservative or shows nuance
It’s purity culture in different branding.
Then I read how Fitzgerald responded to critics in those archived blog exchanges (not with clear counterarguments) but with emotional name-calling and an almost devotional defense of his “hero and mentor,” Richard Carrier. For me, that was a hard stop.
Add to that: his public Facebook feed is full of contempt for moderates, conservatives, “anti-vaxxers,” and basically anyone outside progressive orthodoxy. My audience includes exactly those people. This space is built for nuance for people who’ve already escaped one rigid belief system and are not shopping for a new one.
He’s free to have his politics. I’m free not to platform that energy.
So instead of Part Two with a guest, you’re getting something I honestly think is better:
me (😜)
a stack of sources
a comment section that turned into a live demo of modern apologetics
and a segment at the end where I turn the same critical lens on the mythicist side — including Fitzgerald himself
Yes, we’re going there. Just not yet.
Previously on Taste of Truth…
In Part One, I unpacked why “Jesus might never have existed” is treated like a taboo thought — even though the historical evidence is thin and the standards used to “prove” Jesus would never pass in any other field of ancient history.
Then, in a Taste Test Thursday episode, I zoomed out and asked: Why do apologists argue like this at all? We walked through:
early church power moves
modern thought-stopping tricks
and Neil Van Leeuwen’s idea of religious “credences,” which don’t function like normal factual beliefs at all
Today is about the evidence. Especially the apologetic tropes that showed up in my comments like a glitching NPC on repeat.
⭐ MYTHS #6 & #7 — “History and Archaeology Confirm the Gospels”
Papyrus P52 (𝔓52), often called the oldest New Testament manuscript. (It’s the size of a credit card) Apologists treat it like a smoking gun. It contains… one complete word: ‘the.’
These two myths always show up together in the comments, and honestly, they feed off each other. People claim, “history confirms the Gospels,” and when that collapses, they jump to “archaeology proves Jesus existed.” So, I’m combining them here, because the evidence (and the problems) overlap more than apologists want to admit.
In short: Archaeology confirms the setting. History confirms the existence of Christians. Neither confirms the Jesus of the Gospels. And once you actually look at the evidence, the apologetic scaffolding falls apart fast.
1. What Archaeology Really Shows (and What It Doesn’t)
If Jesus were a public figure performing miracles, drawing crowds, causing disturbances, and being executed by Rome, archaeology should show something tied to him or to his original movement.
Here’s what archaeology does show:
Nazareth existed.
Capernaum existed.
The general layout of Judea under Rome.
Ritual baths, synagogues, pottery, coins.
A real Pilate (from a fragmentary inscription).
That’s the setting.
Here’s what archaeology has never produced:
no house of Jesus
no workshop or tools
no tomb we can authenticate
no inscription naming him
no artifacts linked to the Twelve
no evidence of a public ministry
no trace of Gospel-level notoriety
Not even a rumor in archaeology that points to a miracle-working rabbi. Ancient Troy existing doesn’t prove Achilles existed. Nazareth existing doesn’t prove Jesus existed.
Apologists push the setting as if it confirms the character. It doesn’t.
If the Gospels were eyewitness-based biographies, their geography would line up with first-century Palestine.
Instead, we get:
• Towns that don’t match reality
The Gerasene/Gadarene/Gergesa demon-pig fiasco moves between three different locations because the original story (Mark) puts Jesus 30 miles inland… nowhere near a lake or cliffs.
• Galilee described like a later era
Archaeology shows Galilee in the 20s CE was:
taxed to the bone
rebellious
dotted with large Romanized cities like Sepphoris and Tiberias
But the Gospels portray quaint fishing villages, peaceful Pharisees, and quiet countryside. This reflects post-70 CE Galilee: the era when the Gospels were actually written.
• Homeric storms on a tiny lake
Mark treats the Sea of Galilee like the Aegean (raging storms, near capsizings, disciples fearing death) even though ancient critics mocked this because the “sea” is a small lake.
Dennis MacDonald shows Mark lifting whole scenes from Homer, which explains the mismatch: his geography serves his literary needs, not the historical landscape.
• Joseph of “Arimathea” (a town no one can find)
Carrier and others point out the name works more like a literary pun (“best disciple town”) than a real toponym.
• Emmaus placed at different distances
Luke places it seven miles away. Other manuscripts vary. There was no fixed memory.
These aren’t the mistakes of people writing about their homeland. They’re the mistakes of later authors constructing a symbolic landscape.
3. The Gospel Trial Scenes: Legally Impossible
This is the part Christians never touch.
One of the most respected legal scholars of ancient Jewish law did a line-by-line analysis of the Gospel trial scenes. He wasn’t writing from a religious angle, he approached it strictly as a historian of legal procedure.
His conclusion? The trial described in the Gospels violates almost every rule of how Jewish courts actually worked.
According to his research:
capital trials were never held at night
they were not allowed during festivals like Passover
capital verdicts required multiple days, not hours
the High Priest did not interrogate defendants
witness testimony had to match
beating a prisoner during questioning was illegal
and Jewish courts didn’t simply hand people over to Rome
When you stack these facts together, it becomes clear:
The Gospel trial scenes aren’t legal history…. they’re theological storytelling.
That’s before we even get to Pilate.
Pilate was not a timid bureaucrat.
He was violent, ruthless, removed from office for brutality.
4. Acts Doesn’t Remember Any Gospel Miracles
If Jesus actually:
drew crowds,
fed thousands,
raised the dead,
blacked out the sun,
split the Temple curtain,
and resurrected publicly…
Acts (written after the Gospels) should remember all of this.
Instead:
No one in Acts has heard of Jesus.
No one mentions an empty tomb.
No one cites miracles as recent events.
Roman officials are clueless.
Paul knows Jesus only through visions and the scriptures.
Acts behaves exactly like a community whose “history” was not yet written.
5. Manuscripts: Many Copies, No Control
Apologists love saying:
“We have 24,000 manuscripts!”
Quantity isn’t quality.
almost all are medieval
the earliest are tiny scraps
none are originals
no first-century copies
scribes altered texts freely
entire passages were added or deleted
six of Paul’s letters are pseudonymous
many early Christian writings were forged
Even Origen admitted that scribes “add and remove what they please” (privately, of course.)
The manuscript tradition looks nothing like reliable preservation.
6. The Church Fathers Don’t Help (and They Were Tampered With Too)
This is where Fitzgerald’s chapter hits hardest.
Before 150 CE, we have:
no Church Father quoting any Gospel
no awareness of four distinct Gospels
no clear references to Gospel events
Justin Martyr (writing in the 150s) is the first to quote anything Gospel-like, and:
he never names Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John
many of his quotes don’t match our Gospels
he calls them simply “the memoirs”
Even worse:
The writings of Ignatius, Polycarp, Dionysius of Corinth, and many others were tampered with. Some were forged entirely.
So the apologetic claim “The Fathers confirm the Gospels” collapses:
They don’t quote them. They don’t know them. And their own texts are unstable.
Metzger claimed we could reconstruct the New Testament from the Fathers’ quotations but his own scholarship shows the Fathers don’t quote anything reliably until after the Gospels were circulating.
7. External Pagan Sources: Late, Thin, and Dependent on Christian Claims
This is the other half of the myth… that “history” outside the Bible confirms Jesus.
Let’s look quickly:
• Tacitus (116 CE)
Reports what Christians of his day believed. He cites no source, no archive, no investigation.
• Pliny (c. 111 CE)
Says Christians worship Christ “as a god.” Confirms Christians existed — not that Jesus did.
• Josephus (93 CE)
The Testimonium is tampered with. Even conservative scholars admit Christian hands were all over it. The “James, brother of Jesus” line is ambiguous at best.
These are not independent confirmations. They’re late echoes of Christian claims.
In closing:
You can confirm:
towns
coins
synagogues
political offices
geography
But that only shows the world existed, not the characters.
The Gospels are theological narratives composed decades later, stitched out of scripture, symbolism, literary models, and the needs of competing communities.
Archaeology confirms the backdrop. History confirms the movement. Neither confirms the biography.
Once you strip away apologetic spin, the evidence points to late, literary, constructed narratives, not eyewitness records of a historical man.
Myth #8: “Paul and the Epistles Confirm the Gospels”
Albert Schweitzer pointed out that if we only had Paul’s letters, we would never know that:
Jesus taught in parables
gave the Sermon on the Mount
told the “Our Father” prayer
healed people in Galilee
debated Pharisees
From Paul and the other epistles, you wouldn’t even know Jesus was from Nazareth or born in Bethlehem.
That alone should make us pause before saying, “Paul confirms the Gospels.”
Paul’s “Gospel” Is Not a Life Story
When Paul says “my gospel,” he doesn’t mean a narrative like Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John. His gospel is:
Christ died for our sins
was buried
was raised
now offers salvation to those who trust him
No:
Bethlehem, Nazareth, Mary, Joseph
John the Baptist
miracles, exorcisms, parables
empty tomb story with women at dawn
And this isn’t because Paul is forgetful. His letters are full of perfect moments to say, “As Jesus taught us…” or “As we all know from our Lord’s ministry…”
He never does.
Instead, he appeals to:
his own visions
the Hebrew scriptures (in Greek translation, the Septuagint)
what “the Lord” reveals directly to him
For Paul, Christ is:
“the image of the invisible God”
“firstborn of all creation”
the cosmic figure through whom all things were made
the one who descends to the lower realms, defeats spiritual powers, and ascends again
That is cosmic myth language… not “my friend’s rabbi who did a lot of teaching in Galilee a few decades ago.”
The “Lord’s Supper,” Not a Last Supper
The one place people think Paul lines up with the Gospels is 1 Corinthians 11, where he describes “the Lord’s Supper.”
Look closely:
He never calls it “the Last Supper.”
He never says it was a Passover meal.
He never places it in Jerusalem.
He says he received this ritual from the Lord, not from human eyewitnesses.
The phrase he uses, kuriakon deipnon (“Lord’s dinner”), is the same kind of language used for sacred meals in pagan mystery cults.
The verb he uses for “handed over” is used elsewhere of God handing Christ over, or Christ handing himself over not of a buddy’s betrayal. The specific “Judas betrayed him at dinner” motif shows up later, in the Gospels.
Then, when later authors retell the scene, they can’t even agree on the script. We get:
Paul’s version
Mark’s version
Matthew’s tweak on Mark
Luke’s two different textual forms
and John, who skips a Last Supper entirely and relocates the “eat my flesh, drink my blood” thing to a synagogue sermon in Capernaum
That looks less like multiple eyewitness reports and more like a liturgical formula evolving as it gets theologized.
Hebrews and the Missing Connection
The author of Hebrews:
goes deep on covenant and sacrificial blood
quotes Moses: “This is the blood of the covenant…”
spends time on Melchizedek, who brings bread and wine and blesses Abraham
In other words: The author sets up what would be a perfect sermon illustration for the Last Supper… but he never takes it. No “as our Lord did on the night he was betrayed.” No Eucharist scene. No Passover meal.
The simplest explanation: He doesn’t know that story. He knows the ritual meaning; the later narrative scene in Jerusalem hasn’t been invented yet in his circle.
How Paul Says He Knows Christ
Paul is very clear about his source:
He did not receive his gospel from any human (Galatians 1).
He barely met the Jerusalem “pillars,” waited years to even visit them, and insists they added nothing to his message.
He says God “revealed his Son in me.”
His scriptures are the Septuagint, which he reads as a giant coded story about Christ.
In other words, for Paul:
Christ is a hidden heavenly figure revealed in scripture and visions.
The “mystery” has just now been unveiled.
That only makes sense if there wasn’t already a widely known human teacher whose sayings and deeds were circulating everywhere.
The Silence of the Other Epistles
If it were just Paul, we could say, “That’s just Paul being weird.”
But the pattern runs across the other epistles:
From the New Testament letters outside the Gospels and Acts, you would never know:
Jesus was from Nazareth or born in Bethlehem
he grew up in Galilee
he taught crowds, told parables, healed people, or exorcised demons
he had twelve disciples, one of whom betrayed him
there were sacred sites tied to his life in Jerusalem
“Bethlehem,” “Nazareth,” “Galilee” do not appear in those letters with reference to Jesus. Jerusalem is never presented as, “You know, the place where all this just happened.”
The supposed “brothers of the Lord” never act like family with stories to tell. The letters attributed to James and Jude don’t even mention they’re related to Jesus.
When these early authors argue about circumcision, food laws, purity, and ethics, they consistently go back to the Old Testament…not to anything like a Sermon on the Mount.
That is very hard to reconcile with a memory of a recent, popular Galilean preacher inspiring the entire movement.
Myth #9: “Christianity Began With Jesus and His Twelve Besties”
If you grew up on Acts, you probably have this movie in your head:
Tiny, persecuted but unified Jesus movement
Centered in Jerusalem
Led by Jesus’ family and the Twelve
Paul shows up later in season two as the complex antihero
That’s the canonical story.
When you step back and read our earliest sources on their own terms, that picture melts.
Fragmented from the Start
In 1 Corinthians, Paul complains:
“Each of you says, ‘I belong to Paul,’ or ‘I belong to Apollos,’ or ‘I belong to Cephas,’ or ‘I belong to Christ.’ Is Christ divided?” (1 Cor. 1:12–13)
That’s not “one unified church.”
He also:
rants about people “preaching another Jesus”
calls rival apostles “deceitful workers,” “false brothers,” “servants of Satan”
invokes curses on those preaching a different gospel (Gal. 1:6–9; 2 Cor. 11)
Meanwhile, the early Christian manual Didakhē warns communities about wandering preachers who are just “traffickers in Christs” (what Bart Ehrman nicknames “Christ-mongers.”)
Right away, we see:
multiple groups using the Christ label
competing versions of what “the gospel” even is
no sign of one tight central group everyone agrees on
Different Jesuses for Different Communities
By the time the Gospels and later texts are in circulation, we can already see:
Paul’s Christ: a cosmic, heavenly savior, revealed in scripture and visions, ruling spiritual realms
Thomasine Christ: in the Gospel of Thomas, salvation comes through hidden wisdom; there’s no crucifixion or resurrection narrative
Mark’s Jesus: a suffering, misunderstood Son of God who’s “adopted” at baptism and abandoned at the cross
John’s Jesus: the eternal Logos, present at creation, walking around announcing his unity with the Father
Hebrews’ Christ: the heavenly High Priest performing a sacrifice in a heavenly sanctuary
These are not just “different camera angles on the same historical guy.” They reflect:
different liturgies
different cosmologies
different starting assumptions about who or what Christ even is
And notice: there is no clean pipeline from “this man’s twelve students carefully preserved his teachings” into this wild diversity.
Paul vs. Peter: Not a Cute Disagreement
Acts spins the Jerusalem meeting as:
everyone sits down
hashes things out
walks away in perfect unity
Paul’s own account (Galatians 2) is… not that:
he calls some of the Jerusalem people “false brothers”
he says they were trying to enslave believers
he says he “did not yield to them for a moment”
he treats the supposed “pillars” (Peter, James, John) as nobodies who “added nothing” to his gospel
That’s not a friendly staff meeting. That’s two rival Christianities:
a more Torah-observant, Jerusalem-centered Jesus-sect
Paul’s law-free, Gentile-mystic Christ-sect
Acts, written later, airbrushes this into harmony. The letters show how close the whole thing came to a full split.
Where Are the Twelve?
If Jesus’ twelve disciples were:
real,
the main founders of Christianity,
traveling around planting churches,
we’d expect:
lots of references to them
preserved teachings and letters
at least some reliable biographical detail
Instead:
the lists of the Twelve don’t agree between Gospels
some manuscripts can’t even settle on their names
outside the Gospels and Acts, the Twelve basically vanish from the first-century record
Paul:
never quotes “the Twelve”
never appeals to them as the final authority
treats Peter, James, John simply as rival apostles, not as Jesus’ old friends
We have no authentic writings from any of the Twelve. The later “Acts of Peter,” “Acts of Andrew,” “Acts of Thomas,” etc., are generally acknowledged to be later inventions.
The simplest explanation is not that the Twelve were historically massive and weirdly left no trace. It’s that:
“The Twelve” are symbolic: twelve tribes, twelve cosmic seats, twelve zodiac signs, take your pick.
Their names and “biographies” were built after the theology, not before.
The Kenosis Hymn: Jesus as a Title, Not a Birth Name
In Philippians 2, Paul quotes an early hymn:
“Being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death — death on a cross. Therefore God highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow…”
Notice:
The hymn does not say God gave him the title “Lord.”
It says God gave him the name Jesus after the exaltation.
That is not what you expect if “Jesus” was already the known name of a village carpenter from Nazareth. It makes a lot more sense if:
“Jesus” functions originally as a divine name for a savior figure (“Yahweh saves”),
assigned in the mythic story after his cosmic act,
and only later gets retrofitted as the everyday name of a human hero.
Mark: From Mystery Faith to “Biography”
All of this funnels into the earliest Gospel: Mark.
Mark announces up front that he’s writing a gospel, not a biography. Modern scholars have shown that Mark:
builds scenes out of Old Testament passages
mirrors patterns from Greek epics
structures the story like a giant parable, where insiders are given “the mystery of the kingdom,” and outsiders only get stories
In Mark’s own framework, Jesus speaks in parables so that many will see but not understand. The whole Gospel plays that way: symbolic narrative first, later read as straight history once the church gains power.
So did Christianity “begin with Jesus and his apostles”?
If by that you mean:
One coherent movement, founded by a famous rabbi with twelve close disciples, faithfully transmitted from Jerusalem outward…
Then no. That’s the myth.
What we actually see is:
multiple competing Jesuses
rival gospels and factions
no clear paper trail from “Jesus’ inner circle”
later authors stitching together a cleaned-up origin story and branding rivals as “heresy”
Biographies came after belief, not before.
Myth #10: “Christianity Was a Miraculous Overnight Success That Changed the World”
The standard Christian flex goes like this:
“No mere myth could have spread so fast and changed the world so profoundly. That proves Jesus was real.”
Let’s slow that down.
But before we even touch the growth rates, we need to name something obvious that apologists conveniently forget:
Christianity wasn’t the first tradition built around a dying-and-rising savior. Not even close.
Long before the Gospels were written, the ancient Near East had already produced fully developed resurrection myths. One of the oldest (and one of the most important) belonged to Inanna, the Sumerian Queen of Heaven.
Ancient Akkadian cylinder seal (2350–2150 BCE) depicting Inanna
Inanna’s Descent (c. 2000–3000 BCE) is the earliest recorded resurrection narrative in human history.
She descends into the Underworld, is stripped, judged, executed, hung on a hook, and then through divine intervention, is brought back to life and restored to her throne.
This story predates Christianity by two thousand years and was well known across Mesopotamia.
In other words:
✨ The idea that a divine figure dies, descends into darkness, and returns transformed was already ancient before Christianity was even born.
So, the claim that “no myth could spread unless it were historically real” falls apart immediately. Myths did spread. Myths do spread. Myths shaped entire civilizations long before Jesus entered the story.
Now (with that context in place) let’s actually talk about Christianity’s growth..
Christianities Stayed Small…. Until Politics Changed
Carrier’s modeling makes it clear:
even if you start with generous numbers (say 5,000 believers in 40 CE),
you still don’t get anywhere near a significant percentage of the Empire until well into the third century
And that includes all groups who believed in some form of Christ — including the later-branded “heretics.”
So, for the first ~250 years, Christianity:
is tiny
is fragmented
is one cult among many in a very crowded religious landscape
The “miracle” is not early explosive growth. It’s what happens when their tiny, disciplined network suddenly gets access to empire-level power.
Rome Falls; Christianity Rises
Fitzgerald is right that Christianity benefitted from Rome’s third-century crisis:
chronic civil wars
inflation and currency debasement
border instability and barbarian incursions
trade networks breaking down
urban life contracting
As conditions worsened:
Christianity’s disdain for “worldly” culture
its emphasis on endurance, suffering, and heavenly reward
its growing bishop-led structure and charity networks
…all became more attractive to the poor and dispossessed.
“It was a mark of Constantine’s political genius … that he realized it was better to utilize a religion … that already had a well‑established structure of authority … rather than exclude it as a hindrance.” Charles Freeman, The Closing of the Western Mind: The Rise of Faith & the Fall of Reason
But there’s a step many historians including Fitzgerald often underplay:
How Christianity destroyed the classical world.
From Tolerated to Favored to Tyrannical
A quick timeline:
313-Constantine legalizes Christianity (Edict of Milan). Christianity is now allowed, not official. Constantine still honors Sol Invictus and dies as a pagan emperor who also patronized bishops.
4th century– Christian bishops gain wealth and political leverage. Imperial funds start flowing to churches. Pagan temples begin to be looted or repurposed.
380– Emperor Theodosius I issues the Edict of Thessalonica: Nicene Christianity becomes the official state religion.
395 and after– Laws begin banning pagan sacrifices and temple worship. Pagan rites become crimes.
Catherine Nixey’s The Darkening Age and Charles Freeman’s The Closing of the Western Mind document how this looked on the ground:
temples closed, looted, or destroyed
statues smashed
libraries and shrines burned
philosophers harassed, exiled, or killed
non-Christian rites criminalized
Christianity didn’t “persuade” its way to exclusive dominance. It:
received funding and legal favor
then helped outlaw and dismantle its competition
That is not a moral judgment; it’s just how imperial religions behave.
The “Overnight Success” That Took Centuries and a State
So was Christianity a new, radically different, overnight success?
Not new: it recycled the son-of-god savior pattern, sacred meals, initiation, and rebirth themes common in the religious world around it. Even early church fathers admitted the similarities and blamed them on Satan “counterfeiting” Christianity in advance.
Not overnight: it stayed statistically tiny for generations.
Not purely spiritual success: it became powerful when emperors needed an obedient, centralized religious hierarchy to stabilize a collapsing state.
Christianity didn’t “win” because its evidence was overwhelming.
It won because:
it fit the needs of late-imperial politics
it built a strong internal hierarchy
it could supply social services
its leaders were willing to suppress, outlaw, and overwrite rival traditions
This is not unique. It’s a textbook case of how state-backed religions spread.
Why the Pushback Always Sounds the Same
After Part One, my comment sections turned into Groundhog Day:
“You’re ignoring Tacitus and Josephus!”
“Every serious scholar agrees Jesus existed.”
“Archaeology proves the Bible.”
“There are 25,000 manuscripts.”
“Paul met Jesus’ brother!”
“If Jesus wasn’t real, who started Christianity?”
“Ancient critics never denied his existence — checkmate.”
“You just hate religion.”
“This is misinformation.”
Different usernames. Same script.
This is where Neil Van Leeuwen’s work on religious credences helps:
Factual beliefs are supposed to track evidence. If you show me credible new data, I update.
Religious credences function differently: they’re tied to identity, community, and morality. Their job isn’t to track facts; it’s to hold the group together.
So when you challenge Jesus’ historicity, you’re not just questioning an ancient figure. You’re touching:
“Who am I?”
“Who are my people?”
“What makes my life meaningful?”
No wonder people come in hot.
That doesn’t make them stupid or evil. It just means the conversation isn’t really about Tacitus. It’s about identity maintenance.
Now Let’s Turn the Lens on Mythicism (Yes, Including Fitzgerald)
Here’s where I want to be very clear:
I am a mythicist.
I do not think the Jesus of the Gospels ever existed as a historical person.
But mythicism itself doesn’t get a free pass.
Carrier’s Probability Model: When Someone Actually Does the Math
Most debates about Jesus collapse into appeals to authority. Richard Carrier’s On the Historicity of Jesus at least does something different: it quantifies the evidence.
Using Bayesian reasoning, he argues roughly:
about a 1 in 3 prior probability that there was a “minimal historical Jesus”– a real Jewish teacher who got executed and inspired a movement
about 2 in 3 for a “minimal mythicist” origin– a celestial figure whose story later got historicized
Then, after weighing the actual evidence (Paul’s silence, the late Gospels, contradictions, etc.), he argues the probability of a historical Jesus drops further, to something like 1 in 12.
You don’t have to agree with his exact numbers to see the point:
Once you treat the sources like data, not dogma, the overconfident “of course Jesus existed, you idiot” stance looks a lot less justified.
O’Neill’s Critique of Fitzgerald: Atheist vs Atheist
Tim O’Neill, an atheist historian, wrote a long piece on Fitzgerald’s Nailed and does not hold back. His basic charges:
Fitzgerald oversells weak arguments
cherry-picks and misuses sources
ignores mainstream scholarship where it contradicts him
frames mythicism as bold truth vs. “apologist cowards,” which is just another tribal narrative
When Fitzgerald responded, he didn’t do so like someone doing serious historical work. He responded like an internet keyboard warrior.
And that same ideological vibe shows up in how he talks about people in general, which I said in the beginning.
Atheism as New Orthodoxy
The more time I spend watching atheist and deconstruction spaces online, the more obvious it becomes that a lot of these folks didn’t escape religion, they just changed uniforms. They swapped their church pews for Reddit threads, pastors for science influencers, and now “logic” is their new scripture. Ya feel me? It’s the same emotional energy: tribal validation, purity tests–like what do you believe or think about this? And the constant hunt for heretics who dare to ask inconvenient questions.
Say something even slightly outside the approved dogma…like pointing out that evolution (calm down, Darwin disciples) still has gaps and theoretical edges we haven’t fully nailed down and suddenly the comment section becomes the Inquisition. They defend the theory with the exact same fervor evangelicals defend the Book of Revelation. It’s wild.
And look, I’m all for science. I’m literally the girl who reads academic papers for funsies. But when atheists start treating evolution like a sacred cow that can’t be questioned, or acting like “reason” is this perfect, unbiased tool that magically supports all their existing beliefs… that’s not skepticism. That’s a new orthodoxy, dressed up as a freethinker. Different vocabulary, same psychology. Good gravy, baby— calm down.
and….here’s the uncomfortable truth a lot of atheists don’t want to hear:
Reason isn’t the savior they think it is.
French cognitive scientists Hugo Mercier and Dan Sperber have spent years studying how humans actually use reason and prepare yourself because: we don’t use it the way we think. Their research shows that reason didn’t evolve to help us discover truth. It evolved to help us win arguments, protect our identities, and persuade members of our group.
In other words:
confirmation bias isn’t a flaw
motivated reasoning isn’t a glitch
tribal loyalty isn’t an accident
They are features of the reasoning system.
Which is why people who worship “logic” often behave exactly like the religious communities they left… just with new vocabulary and a different set of heretics.
This is also why intellectual diversity matters so much. You cannot reason your way to truth inside an ideological monoculture. Your brain simply won’t let you. Without competing perspectives, reasoning becomes nothing more than rhetorical self-defense, a way to signal loyalty to the tribe while pretending to be above it.
John Stuart Mill understood this long before modern cognitive science confirmed it. In On Liberty, Mill argues that truth isn’t something we protect by silencing dissent. Truth emerges through friction, through the clash of differing perspectives. A community that prides itself on “rational superiority” but cannot tolerate disagreement becomes just another church with a different hymnal.
And that’s where many atheist and deconstruction spaces are now.
They haven’t transcended dogma. They’ve recreated it. Trading one orthodoxy for another.
This isn’t just about online atheists. This is about what happens when any movement stops questioning itself.
Challenging the Mythicist Side (Without Turning It Into Another Tribe)
Let’s get honest about the mythicist world too — because every camp has its blind spots.
Tim O’Neill’s critique of David Fitzgerald wasn’t just angry rhetoric. Strip away the insults, and he raises a few legitimate issues worth taking seriously:
1. Accusation of Agenda-Driven History
O’Neill argues that Fitzgerald starts with the conclusion “Jesus didn’t exist” and works backward, much like creationists do with Genesis.
Now Fitzgerald absolutely denies this. In his own words, he didn’t go looking for mythicism; mythicism found him when he started examining the evidence. And that’s fair.
But the deeper point still stands:
The mythicist movement can get so emotionally invested in debunking Christianity that it mirrors the very dogmatism it critiques.
You see this all over atheist spaces today — endless dunking, no nuance, purity tests, and very little actual curiosity.
That’s a valid critique.
2. Amateurism and Overreach
O’Neill also accuses Fitzgerald of relying too heavily on older scholarship, making confident claims where the evidence is thin, and occasionally overstating consensus.
Again — not entirely wrong. Fitzgerald’s book is sharp and compelling, but it’s not the cutting-edge end of mythicism anymore.
There are places where he simplifies. There are places where he speculates.
This matters because mythicism deserves better than overconfident shortcuts.
3. Fitzgerald doesn’t push far enough
And ironically, this is where I diverge from O’Neill entirely. He thinks Fitzgerald goes too far; I think Fitzgerald stops too soon.
There are areas where the mythicist case has advanced beyond Fitzgerald’s framework, and he doesn’t touch them:
• The possibility that “Paul” himself is a literary construct
Nina Livesey and other scholars argue that:
The Pauline voice may be a 2nd-century invention.
The letters reflect Roman rhetorical conventions, not authentic 1st-century correspondence.
The “apostle Paul” may be a theological persona used to unify competing sects.
Fitzgerald doesn’t address this— but it’s now one of the most provocative frontiers in the field.
• The geopolitical legacy of Abrahamic supremacy
Fitzgerald critiques Christian nationalism. Great. But he doesn’t go upstream to examine the deeper architecture:
It focuses almost exclusively on Christian excess while leaving the deeper architecture untouched: how Abrahamic identity claims themselves shape law, land, empire, and modern geopolitics.
When you zoom out, the story is not “Christian nationalism versus secular reason.”
It is competing and cooperating Abrahamic power structures, each with theological claims about chosen-ness, inheritance, land, and destiny.
Abrahamic Power Is Not Just Christian
Very few people are willing to look at the broader landscape of Abrahamic influence in American politics and global power structures. When they do not, they miss how deeply intertwined these traditions have been for over a century.
One under-discussed example is the longstanding institutional relationship between Mormonism and Judaism, particularly around shared claims to Israel and the “house of Israel.”
This is not hidden history.
In 1995, Utah Valley State College established a Center for Jewish Studies explicitly aimed at “bridging the gap between Jews and Mormons” and guiding relationships connected to Israel. One of the board members was Jack Solomon, a Jewish community leader who publicly praised the LDS Church as uniquely supportive of Judaism.
Solomon stated at the time that “there is no place in the world where the Christian community has been so supportive of the Jewish people and Judaism,” noting LDS financial and symbolic support for Jewish institutions in Utah going back to the early twentieth century.
This matters because Mormon theology explicitly claims descent from the house of Israel. Mormons do not merely admire Judaism. They see themselves as part of Israel’s continuation and restoration.
That theological framework shapes real-world alliances.
1. The Mormon Church Is a Financial Superpower
Most Americans have no idea how wealthy the LDS Church actually is.
The Mormon Church’s real estate & investment arm, Ensign Peak Advisors, was exposed in 2019 and again in 2023 for managing a secret portfolio now estimated at:
👉 $150–$200 billion
(Source: SEC filings, whistleblower leaks, Wall Street Journal)
To compare:
PepsiCo market cap: ~$175B
ExxonMobil (oil giant): ~$420B
Disney: ~$160B
Meaning:
📌 The LDS Church is financially on par with Pepsi and Disney, and not far behind Big Oil.
This is not a “church.” This is an empire.
And it invests strategically:
massive real estate acquisitions
agricultural control
media companies
political lobbying
funding influence networks
And let’s be clear: Mormons see themselves as a literal remnant of Israel (the last tribe) destined to help rule the Earth “in the last days.”
Which brings us to…
2. Mormonism’s Quiet Partnership with the New Apostolic Reformation (NAR)
NAR is the movement behind the so-called “Seven Mountain Mandate”— the belief that Christians must seize control of:
Government
Education
Media
Arts & Entertainment
Business
Religion
Family
This is the backbone of Christian nationalism and it’s far more organized than people realize. But here’s the part that never gets discussed:
Mormon elites collaborate with NAR leadership behind the scenes.
Shared goals:
influence over U.S. political leadership
shaping national morality laws
preparing for a prophetic “kingdom age”
embedding power in those seven spheres
This isn’t fringe. This is the largest religious–political coalition in the country, and yet most journalists never touch it.
3. The Ziklag Group: A $25M-Minimum Christian Power Circle
You want to talk about “elite networks”?
Meet Ziklag: an ultra-exclusive Christian organization named after King David’s biblical stronghold. Requirements for membership: a minimum net worth of $25 million Their mission? Not charity. Not discipleship.
Influence the Seven Mountains of society at the highest levels.
Members include:
CEOs
hedge-fund managers
defense contractors
political donors
tech founders
Including the billionaire Uihlein family, who made a fortune in office supplies, the Greens, who run Hobby Lobby, and the Wallers, who own the Jockey apparel corporation. Recipients of Ziklag’s largesse include Alliance Defending Freedom, which is the Christian legal group that led the overturning of Roe v. Wade, plus the national pro-Trump group Turning Point USA and a constellation of right-of-center advocacy groups.
AND YET…
Most people yelling about “Christian nationalism” have never even heard of Ziklag.
4. Meanwhile, Chabad-Lubavitch Has Met with Every U.S. President Since 1978
Evangelical influence isn’t the only Abrahamic power Americans ignore.
Chabad (a Hasidic cult with global reach) has:
direct access to every U.S. president
annual White House proclamations (“Education & Sharing Day”) explicitly honor a religious leader as a moral authority over the nation.
a network of emissaries (shluchim) embedded in power centers around the world
This is influence, not conspiracy.
This is religious lobbying at the highest level of government, treated as unremarkable simply because the public doesn’t understand it.
The Rebbe’s ambassador to Washington D.C., Rabbi Abraham Shemtov, addresses the crowd at an event in front of the White House organized by American Friends of Lubavitch, as President Carter and The Honorable Stuart E. Eizenstat, Chief Domestic Policy Adviser and the Executive Director of the White House Domestic Policy Staff, look on.
President Gerald Ford is greeted by Rabbi Abraham Shemtov (left), national director of American Friends of Lubavitch; Rabbi Moshe Feller (right), Chabad-Lubavitch emissary to Minnesota; and Senator Rudy Boschwitz; at the American Friends of Lubavitch Philadelphia dinner, May 1975.
President Ronald Reagan signs the Education Day U.S.A. proclamation
President Bill Clinton places a dollar bill in a charity box after receiving members of the American Friends of Lubavitch in the White House.
President George W. Bush speaks to Chabad-Lubavitch rabbis after signing the Education Day U.S.A. proclamation.
President Obama Welcomes Chabad-Lubavitch to the White House
Chabad-Lubavitch rabbis meet with President Donald J. Trump on Education and Sharing Day, U.S.A. in 2018. “The First Lady and I encourage all Americans to reflect upon the Rebbe’s teachings,” President Trump wrote in this year’s proclamation. “His inestimable dedication and unwavering example have become woven into the very fabric of our nation and its character. His memory remains a blessing to the world.”
Biden meets with over 100 Chabad-Lubavitch rabbis
See the Pattern Yet?
When people say “Christian nationalism,” they’re talking about one branch of a much older tree.
Christianity isn’t the problem. Atheism isn’t the solution.
The issue is Abrahamic supremacy: the belief that one sacred lineage has the right to rule, legislate, moralize, and define history for everyone else.
Across denominations, across continents, across political parties, the pattern is the same:
chosen-people narratives
divine-right entitlement
mythic land claims
sacred-tier influence operations
the blending of theology with statecraft
“Groupish belief systems that justify valuing one’s group above others must be inventable.” — Religion as Make-Believe.
Exactly.
These power structures aren’t ancient relics. They’re alive, wealthy, organized, and deeply embedded in American political life. And yet we’re told to panic exclusively about MAGA Christians… while studiously ignoring:
Mormon financial empires
NAR infiltration of U.S. political offices
Zionist influence networks
Chabad’s presidential pipeline
elite Christian dominionist groups like Ziklag
This isn’t about blaming individuals.
It’s about naming systems. Because if we’re going to talk honestly about orthodoxy, myth, and power…
we need to talk about all of it— not just the parts that are fashionable to critique.
4. Mythicism still hasn’t grappled with empire
Most mythicist writing stops at: “Jesus didn’t exist.”
Cool. Now what? The real question is:
HOW? How did a mythical figure become the operating system for Western civilization?
So, here’s where I actually land:
Christianity didn’t emerge from a single man. It emerged from competing myths, political incentives, scriptural remixing, imperial needs, and evolving group identities.
And if that makes me someone who doesn’t quite fit in the Christian world, the atheist world, or the deconstruction world? Perfect. My loyalty is to the question, not the tribe. That’s exactly where I plan to stay.
That’s exactly where I plan to stay.
aaaand as always, maintain your curiosity, embrace skepticism, and keep tuning in. 🎙️🔒
Footnotes
1. Jodi Magness, Stone and Dung, Oil and Spit (Eerdmans, 2011).
Archaeologist specializing in 1st-century Judea; emphasizes that archaeology illuminates daily life, but cannot confirm Jesus’ existence or Gospel events.
2. Eric M. Meyers & Mark A. Chancey, Archaeology, the Rabbis, and Early Christianity (Baker Academic, 2012).
Shows how archaeology supports context, not Gospel narrative details.
3. Steve Mason, Josephus and the New Testament, 2nd ed. (Hendrickson, 2003).
Explains why the Testimonium Flavianum is partially or heavily interpolated and cannot serve as independent confirmation of Jesus.
4. Alice Whealey, “The Testimonium Flavianum in Syriac and Arabic,” New Testament Studies 54.4 (2008): 573–590.
Analyzes manuscript traditions showing Christian editing of Josephus.
5. Louis Feldman, “Josephus,” Anchor Bible Dictionary, vol. 3 (Yale University Press, 1992).
Standard reference summarizing scholarly consensus about the unreliable portions of Josephus’ Jesus passages.
6. Brent Shaw, “The Myth of the Neronian Persecution,” Journal of Roman Studies 105 (2015): 73–100.
Shows Tacitus likely repeats Christian stories, not archival Roman data, making him a witness to Christian belief — not Jesus’ historicity.
7. Pliny the Younger, Epistles 10.96–97.
Earliest Roman description of Christian worship; confirms Christians existed, not that Jesus did.
8. Bart D. Ehrman, Misquoting Jesus (HarperOne, 2005).
Explains why New Testament manuscripts contain thousands of variations, with no originals surviving.
9. Dennis R. MacDonald, The Homeric Epics and the Gospel of Mark (Yale University Press, 2000).
Argues Mark intentionally modeled episodes on Homeric motifs — supporting literary construction rather than eyewitness reporting.
10. Attridge, Harold W., The Epistle to the Hebrews (Hermeneia Commentary Series).
Shows how Hebrews relies on celestial priesthood imagery and makes no connection to a recent earthly Jesus, even when opportunities are obvious.
11. Earl Doherty, The Jesus Puzzle (1999).
Early mythicist argument emphasizing the epistles’ lack of biographical Jesus data.
12. Richard Carrier, On the Historicity of Jesus (Sheffield Phoenix, 2014).
Presents a Bayesian model estimating mythicist origins as more probable than historicity.
13. Richard Carrier, Proving History (Prometheus, 2012).
Explains the historical method he uses for evaluating Jesus traditions.
14. Paula Fredriksen, From Jesus to Christ (Yale University Press, 2000).
Demonstrates the pluralism and fragmentation within earliest Christianity.
15. Burton Mack, The Christian Myth: Origins, Logic, and Legacy (Continuum, 2006).
Describes the emergence of various Jesus traditions as literary and theological constructions.
16. Clayton N. Jefford, The Didache (Fortress Press).
Analyzes early church manual revealing “wandering prophets,” factionalism, and market-style competition among early Jesus groups.
17. Catherine Nixey, The Darkening Age (Macmillan, 2017).
Documents the destruction of pagan culture under Christian imperial dominance.
18. Charles Freeman, The Closing of the Western Mind (Vintage, 2005).
Explores how Christian orthodoxy displaced classical philosophy.
19. Ramsay MacMullen, Christianizing the Roman Empire (Yale University Press, 1984).
Shows Christianity expanded primarily through imperial power, incentives, and legislation, not mass persuasion.
20. H.A. Drake, Constantine and the Bishops (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2002).
Outlines Constantine’s political use of Christianity and the shift toward enforced orthodoxy.
21. Peter Brown, The Rise of Western Christendom (Wiley-Blackwell, 2013).
Provides context for how Christianity overtook the Roman religious landscape.
22. Neil Van Leeuwen, “Religious Credence Is Not Factual Belief,” Cognition 133 (2014): 698–715.
Explains why religious commitments behave like identity markers, not evidence-responsive beliefs.
23. Whitney Phillips, This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things (MIT Press, 2015).
Useful for understanding modern online purity culture dynamics, relevant to atheist-internet behavior discussed in your commentary section.
24. Joseph Reagle, Reading the Comments (MIT Press, 2015).
Analyzes comment-section behavior and ideological enforcement online.
25. Tim O’Neill, “Easter, the Existence of Jesus, and Dave Fitzgerald,” History for Atheists (2017).
Atheist historian critiquing Fitzgerald’s methodological errors, exaggerated claims, and misuse of sources.
26. Raphael Lataster, Questioning the Historicity of Jesus (Brill, 2019).
Secular academic arguing mythicism is plausible but insisting on higher methodological rigor than many popularizers use.
27. Richard Carrier, various blog critiques of Fitzgerald (2012–2019).
Carrier agrees with mythicism but critiques Fitzgerald for overstatement and inadequate source control.
How Suppression Shapes Our Bodies, Minds, and the World We Live In
Hey hey, Welcome back! Today’s episode connects beautifully to something many of you resonated with in my earlier show, Science or Stagnation? The Risk of Unquestioned Paradigms. In that episode, we talked about scientism… not science itself, but the dogma that forms around certain scientific ideas.
That’s why voices like Rupert Sheldrake have always fascinated me. Sheldrake, for those unfamiliar, isn’t a fringe crank. He’s a Cambridge-trained biologist who dared to question what he calls the “ten dogmas of modern science”: that nature is mechanical, that the mind is only the brain, that the laws of nature are fixed, that free will is an illusion, and so on.
When he presented these questions in a TED Talk, it struck such a nerve that the talk was quietly taken down. And that raised an obvious question: If the ideas are so wrong… why not let them stand and fall on their own? Why censor them unless they hit something tender? All of this sets the stage for today’s conversation.
Because the theory we’re exploring, Social Miasm Theory, fits right inside that tension between mainstream assumptions and the alternative frameworks we often dismiss too quickly.
My friend Stephinity Salazar just published a fascinating piece of research arguing that suppression (of toxins, trauma, emotion, and truth) is the root pattern underlying both chronic illness and our wider social dysfunction. It’s a theory that steps outside the materialist worldview and challenges the mechanistic lens we’ve all been taught to see through.
Dr. Stephinity Salazar
Hoop Camp Retreat
Yarmony Grass 2008
You don’t have to agree with everything…that’s not the goal here.
What I love is the chance to explore, to ask good questions, and to stay grounded while examining ideas that stretch our understanding.
This blog is your guide to the episode, so you can track the concepts, explore the references, and dive deeper while you listen.
So, with that, let’s dive into Social Miasm Theory: what it is, where it comes from, why it matters, and what it might reveal about the world we’re living in today.
What Are Miasms, Anyway?
To anchor our conversation, Stephinity starts by grounding the concept of “miasms” in its homeopathic roots. Historically, Samuel Hahnemann (founder of homeopathy) described three primary miasms:
Psora, linked to scabies or skin conditions
Syphilis, associated with destructive disease
Sycosis, with overgrowth and tissue proliferation
Since then, the theory has expanded. Many modern homeopaths now talk about five chronic miasms, adding:
Tubercular (linked to tuberculosis, respiratory issues) Homeopathy 360
Psychological suppression: denial, cognitive dissonance, fear-driven attachment to ideology
Truth suppression: propaganda, censorship, disinformation, scientific dogma
When these forms of suppression accumulate, she argues, they create a “social miasm”: a pathological field that shapes everything from public health to political polarization.
Even if you don’t buy every mechanism she proposes, the metaphor works. And the patterns are hard to ignore.
Evidence, Epistemology, and Skeptics: What Counts as “Real”?
This is the part my skeptical listeners will perk up for.
In the interview, I asked her the question I knew many of you were thinking: “How do you define evidence within this framework? What would you want skeptical listeners to understand before judging it?”
Stephinity argues that the modern scientific lens is too narrow. Not wrong—but incomplete. She sees value in:
case studies
pattern recognition
field effects
resonance models
historical cycles
experiential knowledge
Whether or not you agree, her challenge to mechanistic materialism echoes thinkers like Rupert Sheldrake, IONS researchers, and even physicists questioning entropic cosmology.
And she’s not claiming this replaces science. She’s asking what science misses when it refuses to look beyond the physical.
Suppression: What It Looks Like in Real Life
Stephinity’s paper covers how suppression shows up on multiple levels. Here are a few examples she explores:
Overuse of symptom-suppressive medications
Emotional avoidance that pushes trauma deeper
Social pressure to conform
Institutional censorship
Environmental toxins that overwhelm the microbiome
Radiation and electromagnetic exposures
She frames suppression as a terrain problem: when the body or society becomes too acidic, stressed, toxic, or disconnected, the miasm takes root.
This is where we start to cross into the biological, psychological, and social layers—which brings us to one of my favorite parts of her theory.
Neuroparasitology: When Parasites Change Behavior
The concept of a new branch of science of neuroparasitology. Study of the influence of parasites on the activity of the brain.
This is the section I teased in the podcast because it’s both wild and backed by real research.
Stephinity references studies showing that parasites can alter host behavior not just in insects or rodents, but potentially in humans too. Her paper cites examples like helminths, nematodes, mycotoxins, and other microorganisms (McAuliffe, 2016; Colaiacovo, 2021). These organisms are everywhere, not just in “developing countries” (Yu, 2010).
Researchers have documented parasites that:
influence mood
shift risk-taking
modify sexual attraction
impair impulse control
change social patterns
This is what Dawkins called the extended phenotype (1982): the parasite’s genes expressing themselves through the host’s behavior. Neuroparasitologists Hughes & Libersat (2019) and Johnson (2020) have shown how certain infections can shift personality traits in specific, predictable ways.
Stephinity ties this into terrain: parasites tend to thrive in acidic, low-oxygen, stressed, radiative environments (Clark, 1995; Tennant, 2013; Cerecedes, 2015). In her view, chronic suppression creates exactly that kind of internal ecosystem.
But there’s another layer here. One that isn’t biological at all.
This is where philosopher Daniel Dennett enters the chat.
In Breaking the Spell, Dennett describes “parasites of the mind”: ideas that spread not because they’re true, but because they’re incredibly good at hijacking human psychology. These mental parasites latch onto our cognitive wiring the same way biological one’s latch onto the nervous system. They survive by exploiting:
fear
moral impulses
tribal loyalty
the desire for certainty
social pressure
existential insecurity
According to Dennett, religious dogmas, conspiracy theories, and ideological extremes act like memetic parasites: they replicate by using us, encouraging us to host them and then pass them on.
In other words: not all parasites live in the gut. Some live in the mind.
And…..we even discussed how billionaire Les Wexner once publicly described having a “dybbuk spirit” a kind of parasitic entity in Jewish folklore known for influencing personality. Whether symbolic or literal, the analogy fits. 🫨😮
Her point is simple: When the terrain is weak, something else will fill the space.
Whether that “something” is trauma, ideology, toxicity, or a literal parasite… the mechanism rhymes.
Collective Delusion and Mass Psychosis
Drawing on Jung and Dostoevsky, Stephinity explores the idea that societies can enter “psychic epidemics.”
You’ve seen this. We all have…
The last decade has been a masterclass in how fear, propaganda, and emotional suppression create predictable patterns:
polarization
tribal thinking
moral panics
ideological possession
scapegoating
censorship
intolerance of nuance
She argues these are symptoms of a cultural miasm—not failures of individual character.
Whether you lean left, right, or somewhere out in the wilderness, you’ve likely felt this rising tension. And it’s hard not to see how unresolved collective trauma feeds it.
COVID as a Catalyst: What the Pandemic Revealed
Another part of her paper dives into how the pandemic brought hidden patterns to the surface.
Some of her claims are controversial, especially around EMFs and environmental co-factors. In the episode, we unpack these with curiosity, not blind acceptance.
Her larger point is that COVID exposed:
institutional fragility
scientific gatekeeping
public distrust
trauma-based responses
authoritarian overreach
the psychological toll of suppression
Whether you agree with the specific mechanisms or not, the last decade made one thing undeniable: something in our social terrain is deeply dysregulated.
8. Healing Forward: What Do We Do With All This?
If suppression drives miasms, then healing means unsuppressing. Gently, not chaotically.
Stephinity suggests practices like:
emotional honesty
reconnecting with nature
releasing stored trauma
nutritional and detoxification support
reducing exposure to chronic stressors
restoring community and meaning
opening space for spiritual or intuitive insight
She’s not prescribing a protocol. She’s offering a map.
The destination is what the Greeks called sophrosyne: a state of balance between wisdom and sanity. Not blissful ignorance, not paranoid awakening. Just grounded clarity.
And I think we could all use a bit more of that.
Key Evidence and Arguments
Stephinity critiques materialist science, calling out what she terms “entropic cosmology.” She argues that by assuming nature is strictly mechanistic, mainstream science misses field-based phenomena, non-local consciousness, and deeper systemic patterns.
She draws on historical and homeopathic sources (Hahnemann, Kent) to build her theoretical foundation but also argues for newer forms of evidence: resonance, case studies, and pattern detection in social systems.
On the environmental front, she explores links between toxins, EMF / 5G, biotech, and chronic disease, not just as correlation, but as evidence of suppression dynamics.
Psychologically, she invokes mass delusion or collective repression (drawing from Jung, Dostoevsky) seeing societal crises as expressions of buried collective shadow.
Ultimately, her call to action isn’t just for individual healing, but for systemic awakening: more transparency, alternative medical paradigms, and restored connection with nature.
Why This Matters for You
Even if homeopathy isn’t your jam, Social Miasm Theory offers a metaphor (and potentially a map) for understanding how inner repression becomes external crisis. If this episode does anything, I hope it gives you permission to look a little closer and question the stuff we’re told not to touch.
In recent decades, the Law of Attraction has become one of the most influential belief systems in wellness, self-help, and multilevel marketing (MLM) circles. Its premise is seductively simple: your thoughts shape your reality. Think positively, and abundance will flow; dwell on negativity, and you’ll attract misfortune.
We have discussed the pitfalls of Law of attraction in a previous episode, you can find here.
🎙️ Another throwback episode is linked below, where I unpack my journey from wellness fanatic within MLM into a high-control religion. Together, we explore the wild “crunchy hippie to alt-right pipeline.” 🌿➡️🛑 social media, influencers, and wellness hype quietly nudge people toward extreme ideas, and in this episode, we break down exactly how. 🎧🔥
This modern doctrine of “mind over matter” is often traced to The Secret (2006) by Rhonda Byrne, but its genealogy is much older. It reaches back to New Thought philosophy of the 19th century, where figures like Ralph Waldo Emerson, Phineas Quimby, and later Mary Baker Eddy (founder of Christian Science) claimed that divine thought itself was the engine of reality. These Mind Cure and faith healing movements linked spirt and matter together. Disease, poverty, and suffering were seen as products of “wrong or stinking thinking.” Salvation was not just spiritual but cognitive: change your thinking, change your life.
and so again I say: It is shockingly right instead of shockingly wrong of you to be prosperous. Obviously, you cannot be very happy if you are poor and you need not be poor. It is a sin. –Catherine Ponder (The Dynamic Laws of Prosperity)
In fact, it is the search for spiritual healing of the body that led to what is known today as prosperity consciousness or in Christian evangelism, it’s prosperity theology.
That intellectual lineage matters because it shows how the Law of Attraction has always been more than a harmless pep talk. It represents a cosmology of control, one that locates all responsibility (and blame) within the individual mind. As we have discussed many times before, Jonathan Haidt observes in The Righteous Mind, belief systems serve a dual function: they bind communities together and blind them to alternative explanations.
In this sense, the Law of Attraction doesn’t just inspire positive thinking; it narrows. By framing success and failure as purely mental vibrations, it obscures structural realities like economic inequality, physical health and genetic limitations, racism, or corporate exploitation.
And that narrowing is precisely what makes it the perfect handmaiden to MLM culture.
When Positive Thinking Becomes a Business Model
Robert L. FitzPatrick, in False Profits and Ponzinomics, describes MLMs as “endless chain” recruitment schemes. What sustains them isn’t product sales but the constant influx of hopeful recruits. Yet these schemes require something more than numbers: they require belief.
Here, the Law of Attraction becomes the MLM’s best salesman. Distributors are told:
Failure isn’t about the structure of the business; it’s about your mindset.
Doubt is “negative energy” that will block your success.
Quitting is not just a business choice but a moral failing.
In the Amway training program, the “ABCs of Success” are “Attitude, Belief and Commitment.” Attitude was the key which must be guarded. Don’t let anyone steal your attitude. Negative was defined as “whatever influence weakens your belief and commitment in the business” -False Profits
This is where Norman Vincent Peale’s “positive thinking” gospel dovetails with MLM. In his 1948 book Positive Thinking for a Time Like This, Peale popularized the phrase
“Let go and let God. Let Him take over your life and run it. He knows how.”
While originally a call to spiritual surrender, the phrase has since been weaponized in countless contexts from Holiness movements to Alcoholics Anonymous to prosperity preaching. At its worst, it functions as a silencer: don’t question, don’t resist, don’t think critically. Just “let go,” and trust that outcomes (or uplines) will provide.
Eastern Orthodox Christianity has a word for this: prelest. It’s the belief that human beings are so easily deceived that any private sense of spiritual progress — a feeling of clarity, joy, empowerment, even a mystical experience — can’t be trusted on its own. Without humility and the guidance of a spiritual father, you’re told it may just be pride, delusion, or the devil in disguise.
That’s the trap: you can’t trust your own mind, heart, or gut. The only “safe” option is obedience to the system. Which is exactly how MLMs and other high-control groups operate — undermining self-trust to keep you dependent.
Nietzsche would have called this a kind of slave morality, a belief system that encourages resignation to suffering rather than rebellion against unjust structures. The Law of Attraction, framed in this way, doesn’t challenge MLM exploitation; it sanctifies it.
More powerful than any product, charismatic leader, or compensation plan, the MLM mindset materials (the tapes, courses, and “personal development” kits) are the prime tools used to recruit and control distributors. Once you’re in the system, you’re encouraged to buy these materials week after week, keeping you invested emotionally and financially while feeding the company’s bottom line.
I went back through my Facebook to find some goodies for you! 😜This photo says “My energy creates my reality. What I focus on is what I will Manifest.” Here is the original caption so you can hear how brainwashed I was. “💥🙌🏼Belief is a feeling of certainty about something, driven by emotion. Feeling certain means that it feels true to you and therefore it is your reality. 💥🙌🏼 💪🏼 What you focus on you find 💪🏼 👀 You’ve got to believe it, to see it 👀”
Flashback to my first corporate event Aug 2016. My upline purchased my flight basically forcing me to go.
My caption at the time: 🤮
🔥IGNITE YOUR VISION! 🔥 ⚡Attended an event that changed my life. Showed me the massive vision of this company. 🤗Join our passionate, growing team of 18-35-year-olds striving for extraordinary lives and ownership of health, dreams, and contributions. 🤩Returning to this LIFE CHANGING event soon! Nashville, TN—let’s learn, grow, and celebrate!
Sounds inspiring, right? Except what they’re really selling is mandatory product purchases, endless hype, and a community that keeps you chasing the next status milestone. That “massive vision” isn’t about your health or dreams—it’s about the company’s bottom line.
Words like passionate, extraordinary, innovators, ownership are carefully chosen psychological nudges, making you feel like life itself is on the line if you’re not on board. And the countdown to the next “life-changing” event? Keeps you spending, attending, and emotionally hooked.
This is exactly what FitzPatrick calls out in Ponzinomics: the sales rep is the best customer. Only a tiny fraction of participants earn anything; the rest are paying to stay inspired.
More flashback images from my cult days….
The Psychological Toll
When these elements collide the New Thought inheritance of “mind over matter,” Peale’s positive thinking, religious community networks and MLM compensation plans… the result is a high-control environment dressed in empowerment language.
The outcomes are rarely empowering:
Blame and guilt when inevitable losses occur.
Anxiety from the demand to maintain “high vibrations.”
Suppression of doubt, lest skepticism be mistaken for weakness.
Financial harm disguised as personal failure.
In wellness communities, this logic extends beyond money. If essential oils don’t heal your illness, it’s because your mindset was wrong. If the diet doesn’t work, it’s because you didn’t “believe” enough. Structural realities (biology, medicine, inequality) are flattened into personal responsibility.
As Haidt warns, morality (and by extension ideology) can both bind and blind. The Law of Attraction, when paired with MLM, binds participants into a shared culture of hope and positivity while blinding them to exploitation.
Connecting the Dots: Bodybuilding, Metabolism & Team Isagenix
A couple weeks ago on the podcast, I shared about my bodybuilding years and the metabolic fallout I still live with today. I had forgotten how much of that season was actually entangled with my Isagenix obsession. My upline (the couple who enrolled me) were a part of Team Isagenix®, and I craved the validation of being “seen” as a successful athlete inside that community.
The requirements were brutal: placing in the top three of multiple competitions in a short span of time. So, between May 2017 and October 2018, I crammed in four shows in just 18 months. No off-season. No recovery. Just constant prep cycles. My metabolism never had a chance to stabilize, and I pushed myself past healthy limits. I wrecked my body and I’m still paying the price.
This is why I push back so hard when people insist that success is all about having a “positive enough” attitude to manifest it. My mindset was ironclad. What I lacked the conscious awareness that valued human health over recruitment and body image. That drive wasn’t just about stage lights and trophies. It was about proving my worth to an MLM culture that dangled prestige as the price of belonging. Team Isagenix® made the bar steep, and I was determined to clear it, no matter the cost.
And if you need proof of how deep this “mindset over matter” indoctrination goes, look no further than my old upline…now rebranded as a Manifestation Coach. Picture the classic boss-babe felt hat, paired with a website promising “signature mindset tools for rapid results.” According to her, if fear or doubt was “shrinking your dreams,” this was your moment to “flip it.” She name-drops 8-figure companies, influencers, and visionaries (the usual credibility glitter) while selling memberships, live events, and 7-day challenges.
It’s the same pitch recycled: your struggle isn’t systemic, it’s your mindset. If you’re not living your “life you truly love,” it’s because you haven’t invested enough in flipping the script (with her paid framework, of course). The MLM grind culture just got a new coat of “manifesting” paint.
🧠 Isagenix Programs & Their Psychological Impact
Healthy Mind and Body Program: A 60-day “mindset” initiative framed as holistic wellness. In practice, it ties product use to personal development, creating behavioral conditioning and binding members into a sense of shared identity and belonging. 🚩
IsaBody Challenge: A 16-week transformation contest requiring regular Isagenix product purchases. Completion comes with swag and vouchers; finalists are paraded as “success stories,” gamifying loyalty and dangling prestige as bait. The grand prize winner earns $25,000 but most participants earn only deeper entanglement. 🚩
Team Isagenix: Marketed as a prestige group for elite athletes with current national certifications, offering exclusivity and aspirational branding. This elevates certain members as “proof” of the products’ legitimacy, fueling both loyalty and recruitment. 🚩
Product Consumption: Isagenix requires 100 PV every 30 days just to remain “active.” This equates to about $150/month you HAVE to spend. On paper, bonuses and ranks promise unlimited potential. In reality, most associates struggle to recoup even their monthly product costs. Personal development rhetoric and community belonging often eclipse these financial realities, keeping participants cycling through hope, debt, and blame. 🚩
🤮🐦🔥 “Transform Your Life with Isagenix | Empowering Wellness and Wealth” 🐦🔥 🤮
Watch closely, because this is where the magic happens: the company paints a picture of limitless opportunity, but as Robert L. FitzPatrick lays out in Ponzinomics, the secret is that the sales rep is the best customer. That’s right… the real profits aren’t coming from your vague dreams of financial freedom; they’re coming from the people who are already buying the products and trying to climb the ranks.
The numbers don’t lie. According to Isagenix’s own disclosure: the overall average annual income for associates is $892. Among those who actually earned anything, the average jumps to $3,994. Do the math: $892 ÷ $3,994 ≈ 0.223 — meaning only about 22% of associates earn anything at all. The other 78%? Zero. Nada. Zilch.
And before you start fantasizing about that $3,994, remember: that’s before expenses. Let’s run a realistic scenario based on actual product spend:
$150/month on products or promotional materials = $1,800/year → net ≈ $2,194 − $1,800 = $1,194 before other costs.
Factor in travel, events, or socials? That $1,194 could easily drop to near zero…or negative.
The point: the so-called “income potential” evaporates fast when you account for the mandatory spending MLMs require. The only thing truly transformed is the company’s bottom line, not yours.
No wonder the comments are turned off.
Apparently, nobody actually crunches the numbers while the marketing spiel promises energy, strength, and vitality as if a shake could fix financial exploitation, metabolic burnout, and guilt-tripping at the same time.
My story is just one case study of how these tactics play out in real lives: I was recruited through trusted connections, emotionally manipulated with promises of transformation, pressured into relentless product use, and left with financial strain and long-lasting health consequences. That’s the “empowerment” MLMs sell and it’s why scrutiny matters.
Cultural Ecosystems That Enable MLMs
MLMs don’t operate in a vacuum. They flourish where belief structures already normalize submission to authority, truth-claims, and tightly networked communities. Evangelicals and the LDS Church provide striking examples: tight-knit congregations, missionary training in persuasion, and a cultural emphasis on self-reliance and communal obligation create fertile ground for recruitment.
Companies like Nu Skin, Young Living, doTERRA, and Melaleuca have disproportionately strong followings in Utah and among Mormon communities. FitzPatrick notes that MLMs thrive where trust networks and shared values make persuasion easier. The kind of environment where aspirational marketing and “prestige” teams can latch onto pre-existing social structures.
In short, it’s not just the products or the promises of positive thinking; it’s where belief, community, and culture all collide… that allows MLMs to hook people and keep them chasing elusive success.
Beyond Magical Thinking
The critique, then, is not of hope or positivity per se, but of weaponized optimism. When mantras like let go and let God or just thinking positive to manifest it are used to shut down discernment, discourage action, or excuse exploitation, they cease to be spiritual tools and become instruments of control.
Nietzsche challenged us to look beyond systems that sanctify passivity, urging instead a confrontation with reality even when it is brutal. FitzPatrick’s work extends this challenge to the world of commerce: if we truly care about empowerment, we must be willing to see how belief systems can be manipulated for profit.
That’s why MLMs and the Law of Attraction deserve scrutiny. Not because they promise too much, but because they redirect responsibility away from unjust structures and onto the very people they exploit.
Coming Up: A Deeper Dive
Next week on the podcast, I’ll be speaking with Robert L. FitzPatrick, author of False Profits and one of the world’s leading experts on MLMs. With decades of research, FitzPatrick has testified in court cases exposing fraudulent MLM schemes and helped unravel the mechanisms behind these multi-billion-dollar operations. He’s seen firsthand how MLMs manipulate culture, co-opt spirituality, and turn belief itself into a product.
Stay tuned. This is a conversation about more than scams, it’s about the machinery of belief, and how it shapes our lives in ways we rarely see.
Byrne, Rhonda. The Secret. New York: Atria Books, 2006.
Eddy, Mary Baker. Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures. Boston: The Christian Science Publishing Society, 1875.
Emerson, Ralph Waldo. The Essential Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Edited by Brooks Atkinson. New York: Modern Library, 2000.
FitzPatrick, Robert L. False Profits: Seeking Financial and Spiritual Deliverance in Multi-Level Marketing and Pyramid Schemes. Charlotte, NC: Herald Press, 1997.
FitzPatrick, Robert L. Ponzinomics: The Untold Story of Multi-Level Marketing. Charlotte, NC: Skyhorse Publishing, 2020.
Haidt, Jonathan. The Righteous Mind: Why Good People Are Divided by Politics and Religion. New York: Vintage Books, 2012.
Nietzsche, Friedrich. On the Genealogy of Morals. Edited by Walter Kaufmann. New York: Vintage Books, 1989 (originally published 1887).
Peale, Norman Vincent. Positive Thinking for a Time Like This. New York: Prentice-Hall, 1948.
Quimby, Phineas P. The Quimby Manuscripts. Edited by Horatio W. Dresser. New York: Thomas Y. Crowell, 1921.
Wallace, David Foster. “Consider the Lobster.” In Consider the Lobster and Other Essays. New York: Little, Brown, 2005. (Useful on consumer culture critique, if you want a modern edge.)
Today we’re unpacking several interwoven topics I’ve explored in my writing before why people get drawn into high-control environments and how forgiveness in Christian culture is often weaponized, not as a path to healing, but as a tool to silence victims and protect institutions. This isn’t just a personal issue; it’s an institutional one.
This came into sharp focus after Erika Kirk, Charlie Kirk’s widow, said she forgives her husband’s killer. I’m not here to critique her grief, that’s her own process. What I want to explore is the cultural framework that makes this kind of forgiveness expected, celebrated, and even demanded in evangelical spaces. I have a MUCH MUCH longer blog linked here if you want to go much deeper than I plan to cover today.
Before even touching forgiveness, let’s pause on why this moment is so primed for revivalist recruiting. Sociologists and psychologists have long noted that people are most vulnerable to high-control groups (whether churches or MLMs) during times of disruption and emotional chaos.
Laura Dodsworth, in her book Free Your Mind, calls this a “blip.” A blip is any disruption that cracks our normal defenses: loss, illness, exhaustion, grief. Even smaller stressors (Think HALT) Hunger, anger/anxiety, loneliness or being tired can chip away at our resistance. Push long enough, and the conscious mind collapses into a state of openness, hungry for belonging and ready to absorb new narratives.
That’s exactly what makes funerals, memorials, and major crises fertile ground for recruitment. Orwell nailed it in 1984:
“Power is in tearing human minds to pieces and putting them together again in shapes of your own choosing.”
Jehovah’s Witnesses even admit to targeting what they call “ripe fruit”-the recently bereaved. In Brazil, recruiters have driven cars with loudspeakers through cemeteries on All Souls’ Day, broadcasting sermons to tens of thousands of mourners. That isn’t compassion; it’s strategic exploitation. Naomi Klein would call it the Shock Doctrine: trauma as an entry point for control.
We’re seeing the same tactics play out online right now. Someone posts about “returning to church” after years away, and within hours their feed fills with love-bombing-likes, comments, and digital hugs. It feels affirming, but it’s also classic manipulation: vulnerability plus attention equals a wide-open door into manipulation.
And so it’s no surprise that revivalist energy is surging in the wake of Kirk’s death.
Situational vulnerability + orchestrated belonging = fertile ground for expansion.
The Myth of “Christlike” Forgiveness
This brings us back to forgiveness. I want to be CLEAR HERE, obviously Erika Kirk wasn’t coerced into forgiving, but in evangelical culture forgiveness is never entirely personal, it’s baked into the ethos. The more you forgive, the more “Christlike” you appear.
Matthew 6:14–15“For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”
That expectation is dangerous. Forgiveness is sacred when it grows out of genuine healing. But when demanded prematurely, it becomes a weapon. Survivors are told to “forgive as you’ve been forgiven” before they’re ready, before their pain is acknowledged, and typically long before their abuser is held accountable.
Pete Walker, in The Tao of Fully Feeling, argues that forgiveness is not a one-time act but a continual choice and that choice only works after grief, rage, and hurt are fully processed. Skip that, and forgiveness turns into compliance, a way to silence anger and keep victims stuck.
In other words: real forgiveness empowers the survivor. Weaponized forgiveness protects the institution.
How Churches Use Forgiveness to Protect Themselves
We’ve seen this pattern across evangelical institutions:
The Guidepost Report (2022) exposed that SBC leadership maintained a secret list of over 700 abusive pastors, shielding them from consequences while survivors were ignored, discredited, or retaliated against.
Jennifer Lyell, an SBC abuse survivor, was vilified by church leadership when she came forward. Instead of support, she was publicly shamed, and her abuser faced no consequences.
Christa Brown, another survivor, spent years advocating for reform after being assaulted by her youth pastor. The SBC’s response? Stonewalling, gaslighting, and further silencing.
Jehovah’s Witnesses have a longstanding pattern of protecting sexual predatorsunder their “two-witness rule,” which requires at least two people to witness abuse for it to be considered valid. This impossible standard allows abusers to go unpunished while victims are shunned for speaking out.
In each case, forgiveness isn’t about healing. It’s about compliance, silence, and institutional survival.
Nietzsche, Freud, and the Cycles of Guilt
This isn’t new. Nietzsche warned that Abrahamic religions hijacked older wisdom traditions, reframing them into systems of obedience rather than life-affirmation. Freud saw religion as a kind of collective neurosis, trapping people in loops of guilt and repression.
What is ironic, Freud’s own psychoanalytic model looks eerily similar to the religious structures he critiqued. As historian Bakan and others have suggested, Freud may have drawn (consciously or not) on Jewish mysticism, replacing priests with analysts, confession with therapy, sin with repressed desire. In trying to explain away religion, Freud ended up reproducing its patterns in secular form. In other words, the pattern of taking human vulnerability and channeling it into control runs deep.
And this is where Laura Dodsworth’s idea of the “blip” becomes so relevant. The blip is that moment of rupture…when you’re grieving, disoriented, exhausted, or otherwise cracked open. Your defenses are down, your critical mind isn’t firing at full strength, and the brain is searching for something to hold onto. In these liminal spaces, new ideologies rush in.
That’s why this moment is so ripe for revivalist energy. It’s not just about forgiveness…it’s about the total atmosphere of grief and disruption that can act as a blip. And high-control groups know it. It’s why political movements, religious revivals, and even MLMs wait for crisis points: job loss, divorce, a death in the family. The blip isn’t compassionately held-it’s exploited.
So when we watch something like Kirk’s memorial, we’re not just seeing personal mourning. We’re watching a social script unfold, one that revivalists know how to activate. In this script, forgiveness, obedience, and “turning your life over” aren’t neutral virtues—they become instruments of recruitment. Which means the real question isn’t should people forgive, but who benefits when forgiveness and emotional openness are demanded at the exact moment people are least able to resist?
Sources & Recommended Reading
Laura Dodsworth, Free Your Mind: The New World of Manipulation and How to Resist It (2023) – esp. Chapter 10, “Watch Out for the Blip.”
George Orwell, 1984 (1949) – “Power is in tearing human minds to pieces…”
Naomi Klein, The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism (2007).
Pete Walker, The Tao of Fully Feeling: Harvesting Forgiveness out of Blame (1996).
Friedrich Nietzsche, On the Genealogy of Morals (1887); The Antichrist (1895).
Sigmund Freud, The Future of an Illusion (1927).
David Bakan, Sigmund Freud and the Jewish Mystical Tradition (1958).
We like to believe science is self-correcting—that data drives discovery, that good ideas rise, and bad ones fall. But when it comes to mental health, modern society is still tethered to a deeply flawed framework—one that pathologizes human experience, medicalizes distress, and often does more harm than good.
Psychiatry has long promised progress, yet history tells a different story. From outdated treatments like bloodletting to today’s overprescription of SSRIs, we’ve traded one form of blind faith for another. These drugs—still experimental in many respects—carry serious risks, yet are handed out at staggering rates. And rather than healing root causes, they often reinforce a narrative of victimhood and chronic dysfunction.
The pharmaceutical industry now drives diagnosis rates, shaping public perception and clinical practice in ways that few understand. What’s marketed as care is often a system of control. In this episode, we revisit the dangers of consensus-driven science—how it silences dissent and rewards conformity.
Because science, like religion or politics, can become dogma. Paradigms harden. Institutions protect their power. And the costs are human lives.
But beneath this entire structure lies a deeper, more uncomfortable question—one we rarely ask:
What does it mean to be a person?
Are we just bodies and brains—repairable, programmable, replaceable? Or is there something more?
Is consciousness a glitch of chemistry, or is it a window into the soul?
Modern psychiatry doesn’t just treat symptoms—it defines the boundaries of personhood. It tells us who counts, who’s disordered, who can be trusted with autonomy—and who can’t.
But what if those definitions are wrong?
We’ve talked before about the risks of unquestioned paradigms—how ideas become dogma, and dogma becomes control. In a past episode,How Dogma Limits Progress in Fitness, Nutrition, and Spirituality, we explored Rupert Sheldrake’s challenge to the dominant scientific worldview—his argument that science itself had become a belief system, closing itself off to dissent. TED removed that talk, calling it “pseudoscience.” But many saw it as an attempt to protect the status quo—the high priests of data and empiricism silencing heresy in the name of progress. We will revisit his work later on in our conversation.
We’ve also discussed how science, more than politics or religion, is often weaponized to control behavior, shape belief, and reinforce social hierarchies. And in a recent Taste Test Thursday episode, we dug into how the industrial food system was shaped not just by profit but by ideology—driven by a merger of science and faith.
This framework—that science is never truly neutral—becomes especially chilling when you look at the history of psychiatry.
To begin this conversation, we’re going back—not to Freud or Prozac, but further. To the roots of American psychiatry. To two early figures—John Galt and Benjamin Rush—whose ideas helped define the trajectory of an entire field. What we find there presents a choice: a path toward genuine hope, or a legacy of continued harm.
This story takes us into the forgotten corners of that history, a place where “normal” and “abnormal” were declared not by discovery, but by decree.
Clinical psychiatrist Paul Minot put it plainly:
“Psychiatry is so ashamed of its history that it has deleted much of it.”
And for good reason.
Psychiatry’s early roots weren’t just tangled with bad science—they were soaked in ideology. What passed for “treatment” was often social control, justified through a veneer of medical language. Institutions were built not to heal, but to hide. Lives were labeled defective.
We would like to think that medicine is objective, that the white coat stands for healing. But behind those coats was a mission to save society from the so-called “abnormal.” But who defined normal? And who paid the price?
The Forgotten Legacy of Dr. John Galt
Lithograph, “Virginia Lunatic Asylum at Williamsburg, Va.” by Thomas Charles Millington, ca.1845. Block & Building Files – Public Hospital, Block 04, Box 07. Image citation: D2018-COPY-1104-001. Special Collections.
Long before DSM codes and Big Pharma, the first freestanding mental hospital in America called Eastern Lunatic Asylum opened its doors in 1773—just down the road from where I live, in Williamsburg, Virginia. Though officially declared a hospital, it was commonly known as “The Madhouse.” For most who entered, institutionalization meant isolation, dehumanization, and often treatment worse than what was afforded to livestock. Mental illness was framed as a threat to the social order—those deemed “abnormal” were removed from society and punished in the name of care.
But one man dared to imagine something different.
Dr. John Galt II, appointed as the first medical superintendent of the hospital (later known as Eastern State), came from a family of alienists—an old-fashioned term for early psychiatrists. The word comes from the Latin alienus, meaning “other” or “stranger,” and referred to those considered mentally “alienated” from themselves or society. Today, of course, the word alien has taken on very different connotations—especially in the heated political debates over immigration. It’s worth clarifying: the historical use of alienist had nothing to do with immigration or nationality. It was a clinical label tied to 19th-century psychiatry, not race or citizenship. But like many terms, it’s often misunderstood or manipulated in modern discourse.
Galt, notably, broke with the harsh legacy of many alienists of his time. Inspired by French psychiatrist Philippe Pinel—often credited as the first true psychiatrist—Galt embraced a radically compassionate model known as moral therapy. Where others saw madness as a threat to be controlled, Galt saw suffering that could be soothed. He believed the mentally ill deserved dignity, freedom, and individualized care—not chains or punishment. He refused to segregate patients by race. He treated enslaved people alongside the free. And he opposed the rising belief—already popular among his fellow psychiatrists—that madness was simply inherited, and the mad were unworthy of full personhood.
Credit:The Valentine Original Author: Cook Collection Created: Late nineteenth to early twentieth century
Rather than seeing madness as a biological defect to be subdued or “cured,” Galt and Pinel viewed it as a crisis of the soul. Their methods rejected medical manipulation and instead focused on restoring dignity. They believed that those struggling with mental affliction should be treated not as deviants but as ordinary people, worthy of love, freedom, and respect.
Dr. Marshall Ledger, founder and editor of Penn Medicine, once quoted historian Nancy Tomes to summarize this period:
“Medical science in this period contributed to the understanding of mental illness, but patient care improved less because of any medical advance than because of one simple factor: Christian charity and common sense.”
Galt’s asylum was one of the only institutions in the United States to treat enslaved people and free Black patients equally—and even to employ them as caregivers. He insisted that every person, regardless of race, had a soul of equal moral worth. His belief in equality and metaphysical healing put him at odds with nearly every other psychiatrist of his time.
And he paid the price.
The psychiatric establishment, closely allied with state power and emerging medical-industrial interests, rejected his human-centered model. Most psychiatrists of the era endorsed slavery and upheld racist pseudoscience. The prevailing consensus was rooted in hereditary determinism—that madness and criminality were genetically transmitted, particularly among the “unfit.”
This growing belief—that mental illness was a biological flaw to be medically managed—was not just a scientific view, but an ideological one. Had Galt’s model of moral therapy been embraced more broadly, it would have undermined the growing assumption that biology and state-run institutions offered the only path to sanity. It would have challenged the idea that human suffering could—and should—be controlled by external authorities.
Instead, psychiatry aligned with power.
Moral therapy was quietly abandoned. And the field moved steadily toward the medicalized, racialized, and state-controlled version of mental health that would pave the way for both eugenics and the modern pharmaceutical regime.
“The Father of American Psychiatry”
Long before Auschwitz. Long before the Eugenics Record Office. Long before sterilization laws and IQ tests, there was Dr. Benjamin Rush—signer of the Declaration of Independence, founder of the first American medical school, and the man still honored as the “father of American psychiatry.” His portrait hangs today in the headquarters of the American Psychiatric Association.
Though many historians point to Francis Galton as the father of eugenics, it was Rush—nearly a century earlier—who laid much of the ideological groundwork. He argued that mental illness was biologically determined and hereditary. And he didn’t stop there.
Rush infamously diagnosed Blackness itself as a form of disease—what he called “negritude.” He theorized that Black people suffered from a kind of leprosy, and that their skin color and behavior could, in theory, be “cured.” He also tied criminality, alcoholism, and madness to inherited degeneracy, particularly among poor and non-white populations.
These ideas found a troubling ally in Charles Darwin’s emerging theories of evolution and heredity. While Darwin’s work revolutionized biology, it was often misused to justify racist notions of racial hierarchy and biological determinism.
Rush’s medical theories were mainstream and deeply influential, shaping generations of physicians and psychiatrists. Together, these ideas reinforced the belief that social deviance and mental illness were rooted in faulty bloodlines—pseudoscientific reasoning that provided a veneer of legitimacy to racism and social control within medicine and psychiatry.
The tragic irony? While Rush advocated for the humane treatment of the mentally ill in certain respects, his racial theories helped pave the way for the pathologizing of entire populations—a mindset that would fuel both American and European eugenics movements in the next century.
American Eugenics: The Soil Psychiatry Grew From
Before Hitler, there was Cold Spring Harbor. Founded in 1910, the Eugenics Record Office (ERO) operated out of Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory in New York with major funding from the Carnegie Institution, later joined by Rockefeller Foundation money. It became the central hub for American eugenic research, gathering family pedigrees to trace so-called hereditary defects like “feeblemindedness,” “criminality,” and “pauperism.”
Between the early 1900s and 1970s, over 30 U.S. states passed forced sterilization laws targeting tens of thousands of people deemed unfit to reproduce. The justification? Traits like alcoholism, poverty, promiscuity, deafness, blindness, low IQ, and mental illness were cast as genetic liabilities that threatened the health of the nation.
The practice was upheld by the U.S. Supreme Court in 1927 in the infamous case of Buck v. Bell. In an 8–1 decision, Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. wrote, “Three generations of imbeciles are enough,” greenlighting the sterilization of 18-year-old Carrie Buck, a young woman institutionalized for being “feebleminded”—a label also applied to her mother and child. The ruling led to an estimated 60,000+ sterilizations across the U.S.
And yes—those sterilizations disproportionately targeted African American, Native American, and Latina women, often without informed consent. In North Carolina alone, Black women made up nearly 65% of sterilizations by the 1960s, despite being a much smaller share of the population.
Eugenics wasn’t a fringe pseudoscience. It was mainstream policy—supported by elite universities, philanthropists, politicians, and the medical establishment.
And psychiatry was its institutional partner.
The American Journal of Psychiatry published favorable discussions of sterilization and even euthanasia for the mentally ill as early as the 1930s. American psychiatrists traveled to Nazi Germany to observe and advise, and German doctors openly cited U.S. laws and scholarship as inspiration for their own racial hygiene programs.
In some cases, the United States led—and Nazi Germany followed.
The International Congress of Eugenics’ Logo 1921
This isn’t conspiracy. It’s history. Documented, peer-reviewed, and disturbingly overlooked.
From Ideology to Institution
By the early 20th century, the groundwork had been laid. Psychiatry had evolved from a fringe field rooted in speculation and racial ideology into a powerful institutional force—backed by universities, governments, and the courts. But its foundation was still deeply compromised. What had begun with Benjamin Rush’s biologically deterministic theories and America’s eugenic policies now matured into a formalized doctrine—one that treated human suffering not as a relational or spiritual crisis, but as a defect to be categorized, corrected, or eliminated.
This is where the five core doctrines of modern psychiatry emerge.
The Five Doctrines That Shaped Modern Psychiatry
These five doctrines weren’t abandoned after World War II. They were rebranded, exported, and quietly absorbed into the foundations of American psychiatry.
1. The Elimination of Subjectivity
Patients were no longer seen as people with stories, pain, or meaning—they were seen as bundles of symptoms. Suffering was abstracted into clinical checklists. The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) became the gold standard, not because it offered clear science, but because it offered utility: a standardized language that served pharmaceutical companies, insurance billing, and bureaucratic control. If you could name it, you could code it—and medicate it.
2. The Eradication of Spiritual and Moral Meaning
Struggles once understood through relational, existential, or moral frameworks were stripped of depth. Grief became depression. Anger became oppositional defiance. Existential despair was reduced to a neurotransmitter imbalance. The soul was erased from the conversation. As Berger notes, suffering was no longer something to be witnessed or explored—it became something to be treated, as quickly and quietly as possible.
3. Biological Determinism
Mental illness was redefined as the inevitable result of faulty genes or broken brain chemistry—even though no consistent biological markers have ever been found. The “chemical imbalance” theory, aggressively marketed throughout the late 20th century, was never scientifically validated. Yet it persists, in part because it sells. Selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs)—still widely prescribed—were promoted on this flawed premise, despite studies showing they often perform no better than placebo and come with serious side effects, including emotional blunting, dependence, and sexual dysfunction.
4. Population Control and Racial Hygiene
In Germany, this meant sterilizing and exterminating those labeled “life unworthy of life.” In the U.S., it meant forced sterilizations of African-American and Native American women, institutionalizing the poor, the disabled, and the nonconforming. These weren’t fringe policies—they were mainstream, upheld by law and supported by leading psychiatrists and journals. Even today, disproportionate diagnoses in communities of color, coercive treatments in prisons and state hospitals, and medicalization of poverty reflect these same logics of control.
5. The Use of Institutions for Social Order
Hospitals became tools for enforcing conformity. Psychiatry wasn’t just about healing—it was about managing the unmanageable, quieting the inconvenient, and keeping society orderly. From lobotomies to electroshock therapy to modern-day involuntary holds, psychiatry has long straddled the line between medicine and discipline. Coercive treatment continues under new names: community treatment orders, chemical restraints, and state-mandated compliance.
These doctrines weren’t discarded after the fall of Nazi Germany. They were imported. Adopted. Rebranded under the guise of “evidence-based medicine” and “public health.” But the same logic persists: reduce the person, erase the context, medicalize the soul, and reinforce the system.
Letchworth Village: The Human Cost
I didn’t simply read this in a textbook. I stood there—on the edge of those woods—next to rows of numbered graves.
In 2020, while waiting to close on our New York house, my husband and I were staying in an Airbnb in Rockland County. We were walking the dogs one morning nearing the end of Call Hollow Road, there is a wide path dividing thick woodland when we came across a memorial stone:
“THOSE WHO SHALL NOT BE FORGOTTEN.”
We had stumbled upon the entrance to Old Letchworth Village Cemetery, and we instantly felt it’s somber history. Beyond it, rows of T-shaped markers each one a muted testament to the hundreds of nameless victims who perished at Letchworth. Situated just half a mile from the institution, these weathered grave markers reveal only the numbers that were once assigned to forgotten souls—a stark reminder that families once refused to let their names be known. This omission serves as a silent indictment of a system that institutionalized, dehumanized, and ultimately discarded these individuals.
When we researched the history, the truth was staggering.
Letchworth was supposed to be a progressive alternative to the horrors of 19th-century asylums. Instead, it became one of them. By the 1920s, reports described children and adults left unclothed, unbathed, overmedicated, and raped. Staff abused residents—and each other. The dormitories were overcrowded. Funding dried up. Buildings decayed.
The facility was severely overcrowded. Many residents lived in filth, unfed and unattended. Children were restrained for hours. Some were used in vaccine trials without consent. And when they died, they were buried behind the trees—nameless, marked only by small concrete stakes.
I stood among those graves. Over 900 of them. A long row of numbered markers, each representing a life once deemed unworthy of attention, of love, of dignity.
But the deeper horror is what Letchworth symbolized: the idea that certain people were better off warehoused than welcomed, that abnormality was a disease to be eradicated—not a difference to be understood.
This is the real history of psychiatric care in America.
The Problem of Purpose
But this history didn’t unfold in a vacuum. It was built on something deeper—an idea so foundational, it often goes unquestioned: that nature has no purpose. That life has no inherent meaning. That humans are complex machines—repairable, discardable, programmable.
This mechanistic worldview didn’t just shape medicine. It has shaped what we call reality itself.
As Dr. Rupert Sheldrake explains in Science Set Free, the denial of purpose in biology isn’t a scientific conclusion—it’s a philosophical assumption. Beginning in the 17th century, science removed soul and purpose from nature. Plants, animals, and human bodies were understood as nothing more than matter in motion, governed by fixed laws. No pull toward the good. No inner meaning.
By the time Darwin’s Origin of Species arrived in the 19th century 1859, this mechanistic lens was fully established. Evolution wasn’t creative—it was random. Life wasn’t guided—it was accidental.
Psychiatry, emerging in this same cultural moment, absorbed this worldview. Suffering was pathologized, difference diagnosed, and the soul reduced to faulty genetics and broken wiring.
Today, that mindset is alive in the DSM’s ever-expanding labels, in the belief that trauma is a chemical imbalance, that identity issues must be solved with hormones and surgery, and in the reflex to medicate children who don’t conform.
But what if suffering isn’t a bug in the system?
What if it’s a signal?
What if these so-called “disorders” are cries for meaning in a world that pretends meaning doesn’t exist?
The graves at Letchworth aren’t just a warning about medical abuse. They are a mirror—reflecting what happens when we forget that people are not problems to be solved, but souls to be seen.
Sheldrake writes, “The materialist denial of purpose in evolution is not based on evidence, but is an assumption.” Modern science insists all change results from random mutations and blind forces—chance and necessity. But these claims are not just about biology. They influence how we see human beings: as broken machines to be repaired or discarded.
As we said, in the 17th century, the mechanistic revolution abolished soul and purpose from nature—except in humans. But as atheism and materialism rose in the 19th century, even divine and human purpose were dismissed, replaced by the ideal of scientific “progress.” Psychiatry emerged from this philosophical soup, fueled not by reverence for the human soul but by the desire to categorize, control, and “correct” behavior—by any mechanical means necessary.
What if that assumption is wrong? What if the people we label “disordered” are responding to something real? What if our suffering has meaning—and our biology is not destiny?
“Genetics” as the New Eugenics
Today, psychiatry no longer speaks in the language of race hygiene.
It speaks in the language of genes.
But the message is largely the same:
You are broken at the root.
Your biology is flawed.
And the only solution is lifelong medication—or medical intervention.
We now tell people their suffering is rooted in faulty wiring, inherited defects, or bad brain chemistry—despite decades of inconclusive or contradictory evidence.
We still medicalize behaviors that don’t conform.
We still pathologize pain that stems from trauma, poverty, or social disconnection.
We still market drugs for “chemical imbalances” that have never been biologically verified.
And we still pretend this is science—not ideology.
But as Dr. Rupert Sheldrake argues in Science Set Free, even the field of genetics rests on a fragile and often overstated foundation. In Chapter 6, he challenges one of modern biology’s core assumptions: that all heredity is purely material—that our traits, tendencies, and identities are completely locked in by our genes.
But this isn’t how people have understood inheritance for most of human history.
Long before Darwin or Mendel, breeders, farmers, and herders knew how to pass on traits. Proverbs like “like father, like son” weren’t based on lab results—they were based on generations of observation. Dogs were bred into dozens of varieties. Wild cabbage became broccoli, kale, and cauliflower. The principles of heredity weren’t discovered by science; they were named by science. They were already in practice across the world.
What Sheldrake points out is that modern biology took this folk knowledge, stripped it of its nuance, and then centralized it—until genes became the sole explanation for almost everything.
And that’s a problem.
Because genetics has been crowned the ultimate cause of everything from depression to addiction, from ADHD to schizophrenia. When the outcomes aren’t clear-cut, the answer is simply: “We haven’t mapped the genome enough yet.”
But what if the model is wrong?
What if suffering isn’t locked in our DNA?
What if genes are only part of the story—and not even the most important part?
By insisting that people are genetically flawed, psychiatry sidesteps the deeper questions:
What happened to you?
What story are you carrying?
What environments shaped your experience of the world?
It pathologizes people—and exonerates systems.
Instead of exploring trauma, we prescribe pills.
Instead of restoring dignity, we reduce people to diagnoses.
Instead of healing souls, we treat symptoms.
Modern genetics, like eugenics before it, promises answers. But too often, it delivers a verdict: you were born broken.
We can do better.
We must do better.
Because healing doesn’t come from blaming bloodlines or rebranding biology.
It comes from listening, loving, and refusing to reduce people to a diagnosis or a gene sequence.
The Hidden Truth About Trauma and Diagnosis
As Pete Walker references Dr. John Briere’s poignant observation: if Complex PTSD and the role of early trauma were fully acknowledged by psychiatry, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) could shrink from a massive textbook to something no larger than a simple pamphlet.
We’ve previously explored the crucial difference between PTSD and complex PTSD—topics like trauma, identity, neuroplasticity, stress, survival, and what it truly means to come home to yourself. This deeper understanding exposes a vast gap between real human experience and how mental health is often diagnosed and treated today.
Instead of addressing trauma with truth and compassion, the system expands diagnostic categories, medicalizes pain, and silences those who suffer.
The Cost of Our Silence
Many of us know someone who’s been diagnosed, hospitalized, or medicated into submission.
Some of us have been that person.
And we’re told this is progress. That this is compassion. That this is care.
But when I stood at the edge of those graves in Rockland County—row after row of anonymous markers—nothing about this history felt compassionate.
It felt buried. On purpose.
We must unearth it.
Not to deny mental suffering—but to reclaim the right to define it for ourselves.
To reimagine what healing could look like, if we dared to value dignity over diagnosis.
Because psychiatry hasn’t “saved” the abnormal.
It has often silenced, sterilized, and sacrificed them.
It has named pain as disorder.
Difference as defect.
Trauma as pathology.
The DSM is not a Bible.
The white coat is not a priesthood.
And genetics is not destiny.
We need better language, better questions, and better ways of relating to each other’s pain.
And that brings us full circle—to a man most people have never heard of: Dr. John Galt II.
Nearly 200 years ago, in Williamsburg, Virginia, Galt ran the first freestanding mental hospital in America. But unlike many of his peers, he rejected chains, cruelty, and coercion. He embraced what he called moral treatment—an approach rooted in truth, love, and human dignity. Galt didn’t see the “insane” as dangerous or defective. He saw them as souls.
He was influenced by Philippe Pinel, the French physician who famously removed shackles from asylum patients in Paris. Together, these early reformers dared to believe that healing began not with force, but with presence. With relationship. With care.
Galt refused to segregate patients by race. He treated enslaved people alongside the free. And he opposed the rising belief—already popular among his fellow psychiatrists—that madness was simply inherited, and the mad were unworthy of full personhood.
But what does it mean to recognize someone’s personhood?
Personhood is more than just being alive or having a body. It’s about being seen as a full human being with inherent dignity, moral worth, and rights—someone whose inner life, choices, and experiences matter. Recognizing personhood means acknowledging the whole person beyond any diagnosis, disability, or social status.
This question isn’t just philosophical—it’s deeply practical and contested. It’s at the heart of debates over mental health care, disability rights, euthanasia and even abortion. When does a baby become a person? When does someone with a mental illness or cognitive difference gain full moral consideration? These debates all circle back to how we define humanity itself.
In Losing Our Dignity: How Secularized Medicine Is Undermining Fundamental Human Equality, Charles C. Camosy warns that secular, mechanistic medicine can strip people down to biological parts—genes, symptoms, behaviors—rather than seeing them as full persons. This reduction risks denying people their dignity and the respect that comes with being more than the sum of their medical conditions.
Galt’s approach stood against this reduction. He saw patients as complex individuals with stories and struggles, deserving compassion and respect—not just as “cases” to be categorized or “disorders” to be fixed.
To truly recognize personhood is to honor that complexity and to affirm that every individual, regardless of race, mental health, or social status, has an equal claim to dignity and care.
But… Galt’s approach was pushed aside.
Why?
Because it didn’t serve the state.
Because it didn’t serve power.
Because it didn’t make money.
Today, we see a similar rejection of truth and compassion.
When a child in distress is told they were “born in the wrong body,” we call it gender-affirming care.
When a woman, desperate to be understood, is handed a borderline personality disorder label instead.
When medications with severe side effects are pushed as the only solution, we call it science.
But are we healing the person—or managing the symptoms?
Are we meeting the soul—or erasing it?
We’ve medicalized the human condition—and too often, we’ve called that progress.
We’ve spoken before about the damage done by Biblical counseling programs when therapy is replaced with doctrine—how evangelical frameworks often dismiss pain as rebellion, frame anger as sin, and pressure survivors into premature forgiveness.
But the secular system is often no better. A model that sees people as nothing more than biology and brain chemistry may wear a lab coat instead of a collar—but it still demands submission.
Both systems can bypass the human being in front of them.
Both can serve control over compassion.
Both can silence pain in the name of order.
What we truly need is something deeper.
To be seen.
To be heard.
To be honored in our complexity—not reduced to a diagnosis or a moral failing.
It’s time to stop.
It’s time to remember that human suffering is not a clinical flaw. It’s time to remember the metaphysical soul/psyche.
Our emotional pain is not a chemical defect.
That being different, distressed, or deeply wounded is not a disease.
It’s time to recover the wisdom of Dr. John Galt II.
To treat those in pain—not as problems to be solved—but as people to be seen.
To offer truth and love, not labels, not sterilizing surgeries and lifelong prescriptions.
Because if we don’t, the graves will keep multiplying—quietly, behind institutions, beneath a silence we dare not disturb.
But we must disturb it.
Because they mattered.
And truth matters.
And the most powerful medicine has never been compliance or chemistry.
It’s being met with real humanity.
Being listened to. Believed.
Not pathologized. Not preached at. Not controlled.
But loved—in the deepest, most grounded sense of the word.
The kind of love that doesn’t look away.
The kind that tells the truth, even when it’s costly.
The kind that says: you are not broken—you are worth staying with.
Because to love someone like that…
is to recognize their personhood.
And maybe that’s the most radical act of all.
SOURCES:
“Director of the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute for Anthropology, Human Heredity, and Eugenics from 1927 to 1942, [Eugen] Fischer authored a 1913 study of the Mischlinge (racially mixed) children of Dutch men and Hottentot women in German southwest Africa. Fischer opposed ‘racial mixing, arguing that “negro blood” was of ‘lesser value and that mixing it with ‘white blood’ would bring about the demise of European culture” (United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, “Deadly Medicine: Creating the Master Race,” HMM Online: https://www.ushmm.org/exhibition/deadly-medicine/ profiles/). See also, Richard C. Lewontin, Steven Rose, and Leon J. Kamin, Not in Our Genes: Biology, Ideology, and Human Nature 2nd edition (Chicago: Haymarket Books, 2017), 207.
Gonaver, The Making of Modern Psychiatry
Saving Abnormal-The Disorder of Psychiatric Genetics-Daneil R Berger II
📘 General History of American Eugenics Lombardo, Paul A. Three Generations, No Imbeciles: Eugenics, the Supreme Court, and Buck v. Bell (2008) This book is the definitive account of Buck v. Bell and American eugenics law. It documents how widespread sterilizations were and provides legal and historical context. Black, Edwin. War Against the Weak: Eugenics and America’s Campaign to Create a Master Race (2003) Covers the U.S. eugenics movement in depth, including funding by Carnegie and Rockefeller, Cold Spring Harbor, and connections to Nazi Germany. Kevles, Daniel J. In the Name of Eugenics: Genetics and the Uses of Human Heredity (1985) A foundational academic history detailing how early American psychiatry and genetics were interwoven with eugenic ideology.
🧬 Institutions & Funding Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory Archives https://www.cshl.edu Documents the history of the Eugenics Record Office (1910–1939), its funding by the Carnegie Institution, and its influence on U.S. and international eugenics. The Rockefeller Foundation Archives https://rockarch.org Shows how the foundation funded eugenics research both in the U.S. and abroad, including programs that influenced German racial hygiene policies.
⚖️ Sterilization Policies & Buck v. Bell Supreme Court Decision: Buck v. Bell, 274 U.S. 200 (1927) https://supreme.justia.com/cases/federal/us/274/200/ Includes Justice Holmes’ infamous quote and the legal justification for forced sterilization. North Carolina Justice for Sterilization Victims Foundation https://www.ncdhhs.gov Reports the disproportionate targeting of Black women in 20th-century sterilization programs. Stern, Alexandra Minna. Eugenic Nation: Faults and Frontiers of Better Breeding in Modern America (2005) Explores race, sterilization, and medical ethics in eugenics programs, with data from states like California and North Carolina.
🧠 Psychiatry’s Role & Nazi Connections Lifton, Robert Jay. The Nazi Doctors: Medical Killing and the Psychology of Genocide (1986) Shows how American eugenics—including psychiatric writings—helped shape Nazi ideology and policies like Aktion T-4 (the euthanasia program). Wahl, Otto F. “Eugenics, Genetics, and the Minority Group Mentality” in American Journal of Psychiatry, 1985. Traces how psychiatric institutions were complicit in promoting eugenic ideas. American Journal of Psychiatry Archives 1920s–1930s issues include articles in support of sterilization and early euthanasia rhetoric. Available via https://ajp.psychiatryonline.org
Welcome to Taste Test Thursday! You know how online debates often turn into full-blown keyboard wars? People lash out with rage when their beliefs whether political, religious, or social are challenged. But why? What’s behind these intense, emotional responses?
What if it’s not just about bad ideas, but something deeper a brain imbalance? What if our need for certainty and addiction to outrage comes from the way our brains are wired to process the world?
Today we’re diving into the neuroscience behind these defensive reactions. We’ll see how the brain’s wiring for survival influences everything from ideological rigidity to emotional hijacking. We’re setting the stage for something important that we’ll explore this upcoming Tuesday how Complex PTSD and PTSD are NOT the same thing. This is an episode you won’t want to miss, especially if you’ve ever felt stuck in a cycle of intense emotional reactions that you just can’t control.
Let’s review something we’ve discussed before: Amygdala Hijacking. If you remember, the amygdala is a part of our brain that processes emotions like fear and anger. Now, when the amygdala gets triggered especially in stressful or traumatic situations it can completely bypass the more rational prefrontal cortex. This results in what we call an “emotional hijack,” where the brain goes straight into fight-or-flight mode often in situations that don’t actually require that level of reaction.
This kind of response helps explain why some people find comfort in fundamentalism.
“At its most basic, the allure of fundamentalism, whether religious or ideological, liberal or conservative, is that it provides an appealing order to things that are actually disorderly.” — Peter MountfordThe Dismal Science
That line hits at something crucial we have explored many times before: the human brain craves order, especially in the face of chaos. The illusion of control is one of our brain’s favorite coping mechanisms and when we find a system (religious, political, or otherwise) that delivers black-and-white certainty? You get a dopamine hit.
Rigid ideologies offer a tidy framework that feels safe and predictable especially in times of confusion, disillusionment, or personal crisis. That’s not just philosophy. That’s neurology.
When Chaos Was the Norm, Control Becomes a Coping Mechanism
For many of us, rigid beliefs aren’t just intellectual frameworks. They’re emotional survival strategies.
The need for control, the drive for perfection, the desire to be “good enough” to earn love these weren’t just quirks of personality. They were adaptations to childhoods where emotional needs weren’t met. And like many people who grew up in households marked by emotional neglect, those patterns shaped everything: our relationships, our careers, our bodies, and the ideologies we clung to.
Psychologists like Alice Miller and Elan Golomb have long noted how children raised in emotionally unavailable or narcissistic homes often create a false self a version of themselves designed to gain approval and avoid rejection. It’s a blueprint that gets carried into adulthood, often unconsciously.
That’s why fundamentalist spaces feel so magnetic to people with childhood trauma. They offer:
Clear rules instead of emotional chaos
“Unconditional” love that’s actually highly conditional
A surrogate parent in the form of a deity or ideology that tells you who to be
Religious trauma often echoes family trauma—because it’s a new version of the same wound.
When Identity Is Built on Compliance
When a belief system rewards obedience over curiosity, it recreates the dynamics of an authoritarian household. You’re loved when you perform correctly. You belong when you don’t question. You’re “good” when you conform.
So what happens when you start to deconstruct?
The moment someone questions the “truth,” it’s perceived as a betrayal—not just of doctrine, but of identity and tribe. And that’s when we see:
Verbal attacks – Heretic. Traitor. Bigot.
Social ostracism – Canceled. Shunned. Ghosted.
Online harassment – Dogpiling and moral outrage.
Even physical aggression – History is full of examples, from witch hunts to ideological purges.
But this isn’t just about “bad actors.” It’s about brains shaped by fear.
When your childhood taught you that being wrong = being unloved, then someone challenging your beliefs doesn’t just feel uncomfortable it feels unsafe. Disagreement triggers:
Cognitive dissonance – That gut-wrenching anxiety when facts don’t fit your worldview
Fear of consequences – Hellfire or public shaming
Loss of self – Because the belief was the identity
Loss of community – The people who “loved” you might now condemn you
The Brain’s Role in Certainty Addiction
Neuroscience adds another layer here—one that makes ideological rigidity more understandable, even if it’s not excusable.
Dr. Iain McGilchrist, in The Master and His Emissary, outlines how the brain’s left and right hemispheres don’t just process information differently—they perceive reality differently.
❌ Not: “Left brain = logic, Right brain = creativity.” ✅ But: “Left brain = control, categorization, and certainty. Right brain = context, relationship, and meaning.”
In a balanced brain, the right hemisphere leads—it sees the big picture, embraces nuance, and stays grounded in lived reality. The left hemisphere refines, classifies, and helps us act.
But modern culture has flipped the script. We’ve let the left hemisphere hijack our perception, reducing the complex to the manageable, the mysterious to the measurable. In this flipped hierarchy:
Ambiguity feels threatening
Context gets stripped away
Relationship is sacrificed for abstraction
And certainty becomes a kind of drug
That’s why ideological possession feels so safe. The left brain loves a clear system, even if it’s oppressive. It would rather be certain and wrong than uncertain and real.
So, when someone questions your belief, it’s not just inconvenient. It shatters the left brain’s illusion of control. And when that illusion is all, you’ve known since childhood, the reaction isn’t just intellectual-it’s existential. a threat.
When Belief Becomes Identity
Jonathan Haidt, in The Righteous Mind, explains that we don’t arrive at beliefs through pure logic. We have moral intuitions quick, gut-level judgments and then our reasoning brain (usually the left hemisphere) steps in, not to find the truth, but to defend the tribe.
The moment someone questions our “truth,” we don’t hear it as a conversation—we hear it as an attack.
What happens next?
Verbal Attacks: When someone questions a core belief, the response often isn’t curiosity—it’s insults, belittling, or outright contempt. In faith spaces, that might look like calling someone a heretic. In political spaces, it’s labels like traitor, bigot, or grifter.
Social Ostracism: Both religious and political groups punish deviation. Doubters are canceled, excommunicated, or ghosted. Deconstruct your faith? You might lose your church community. Question political orthodoxy? You might lose friends—or your job.
Online Harassment: The algorithm rewards outrage. Post a thoughtful question about a sacred ideology and you’ll get dogpiled. Our moral tastebuds, as Haidt would say, are being hijacked by dopamine-fueled tribalism.
Physical Aggression: At the extremes, ideological certainty becomes dangerous. From holy wars to revolutions, the ugliest parts of history stem from one belief: we’re right, and they’re evil.
Why We React This Way: The Psychology of Threat
When beliefs are fused with identity, disagreement feels like annihilation. Especially when the community around us reinforces that fusion. Here’s the pattern:
Fear of Deviation: Questioning is framed as betrayal either spiritual or social.
Cognitive Dissonance: New ideas create discomfort, and doubling down feels safer than rethinking.
Fear of Consequences: From hellfire to being canceled, the cost of questioning is high.
Identity Threat: When belief equals self-worth, letting go feels like losing yourself.
Social Pressure: Communities often reward conformity and punish dissent.
This is where McGilchrist and Haidt align beautifully: one shows how the brain gets hijacked by the need for control, the other shows howmorality binds us to our tribe and blinds us to complexity.
Make-Believe, Morality, and the Group
In our episode with Neil Van Leeuwen, author of Religion as Make-Believe, we unpacked another crucial insight: factual beliefs are flexible, but identity-based beliefs aren’t. They don’t require evidence. In fact, falsehoods often serve the group better because they signal loyalty, not logic.
This is why both sides of a political aisle can believe obviously contradictory things because the truth is secondary to belonging. And once we belong, we don’t think critically–we defend instinctively.
The Antidote: Intellectual Humility
The only way out is through a kind of self-aware disruption.
Open Dialogue: Spaces where disagreement isn’t punished—but explored.
Supportive Community: Groups that allow for doubt, evolution, and honest questioning.
Personal Reflection: A willingness to examine the stories we tell ourselves—and why we need them.
Interdisciplinary Curiosity: Instead of staying in one thought silo, we pull from neuroscience, sociology, philosophy, and lived experience.
Fundamentalism, at its core, is the elevation of certainty over curiosity. But healing, freedom, and truth? They live on the other side of that certainty.
So, what’s one belief you once clung to tightly only to realize it wasn’t the whole truth?
Let’s talk about it in the comments.
And remember:
Maintain your curiosity, embrace skepticism, and keep tuning in. 🎙️🔒 We’re not here to worship reason or reject it. We’re here to see more clearly.
Sources:
Dr. Iain McGilchrist – Left and Right Hemisphere Functions McGilchrist, Iain. The Master and His Emissary: The Divided Brain and the Making of the Western World. Yale University Press, 2009.
Alice Miller – Emotional Neglect and the False Self Miller, Alice. The Drama of the Gifted Child: The Search for the True Self. Basic Books, 1997.
Elan Golomb – Narcissistic Parenting and Emotional Consequences Golomb, Elan. Trapped in the Mirror: Adult Children of Narcissists in Their Struggle for Self. William Morrow, 1992.
Neil Van Leeuwen – Religious Trauma and Belief Systems Van Leeuwen, Neil. Religion as Make-Believe: The Religious Imagination and the Design of the World. Cambridge University Press, 2021.
Jonathan Haidt – Moral Psychology and Group Loyalty Haidt, Jonathan. The Righteous Mind: Why Good People are Divided by Politics and Religion. Pantheon Books, 2012.
If you’re a woman in midlife witnessing changes in your body, let’s be honest—hearing one more expert say “just move more and eat less” might make you scream. That tired, oversimplified advice ignores the very real ways our bodies change—and the decades of life we’ve already lived in them.
Midlife, generally defined as the ages between 37 and 65, isn’t just a calendar phase. It’s a biological, emotional, and identity-shifting chapter. For women, it often marks the beginning of perimenopause—the transitional period leading up to menopause, when the ovaries gradually produce less estrogen. Menopause itself is defined as the 12-month mark after your final menstrual period, but the hormonal fluctuations and symptoms often begin years before and can last well beyond that point.
To really understand what’s happening in our bodies now, we have to rewind the clock.
From puberty, our bodies have been shaped by an elegant hormonal dance. Estrogen, progesterone, and to a lesser extent testosterone, govern everything from our cycle to our skin, from our energy to our emotional responses. These hormones rise and fall in predictable patterns until they don’t. And when they don’t, you feel it.
Hot flashes. Sleep disruptions. Brain fog. Mood swings. Slower recovery from workouts. A scale that doesn’t seem to budge no matter what you do. And the silent undercurrents like the gradual loss of bone density—osteopenia—that often go unnoticed until it’s too late.
These aren’t random annoyances. They’re signals. And they deserve to be understood.
In this post and in today’s podcast episode, I talk with registered dietitian and research wizard Maryann Jacobsen about what actually helps us thrive during perimenopause and menopause. We get into why muscle is metabolic gold, why cardio isn’t always the answer, and how biofeedback your body’s own cues like hunger, energy, sleep, and mood can tell you more about what’s working than any calorie tracker or influencer’s reel ever could.
We also challenge the idea that your bathroom scale is the best measure of health. Spoiler alert: it’s not. Tools like DEXA scans provide deeper insight into your bone density and lean mass—two things that matter more than “weight” ever could in this stage of life. And while your smart scale using bioelectrical impedance might not be as accurate, it can still help you track general trends if you know how to interpret it.
One part of our conversation that hit me hard was Maryann’s mention of the body fat research around fertility. Scientists have found that a minimum of 17% body fat is required just to get a menstrual cycle, and about 22% is needed to maintain ovulation. But here’s the real shocker: in mature women, regular ovulatory cycles are often supported best at 26–28% body fat. (PMID: 3117838, 2282736) That means what many of us have been taught to chase ultra-lean physiques (around 17 BF% or so), chronic calorie restriction, or overtraining can actually backfire on our reproductive health, bone health, and overall vitality.
In populations where food is scarce or physical demands are high, we see patterns: delayed first periods, longer gaps between births, earlier menopause. It’s the body adapting for survival. But in modern life, we sometimes impose these same conditions on ourselves in the name of “fitness.”
And while estrogen usually gets the spotlight in menopause care often treated as the main character it’s progesterone that deserves a standing ovation. Many women are told they “need progesterone” just to protect themselves from estrogen’s effects, as if it’s merely a buffer. But that undersells its brilliance.
The name progesterone literally means “pro-gestation,” but its impact goes far beyond fertility. Progesterone is a master regulator. It stabilizes tissues, supports metabolic balance, calms inflammation, protects against stress, and even plays a role in brain health. While estrogen stimulates, progesterone shields. While estrogen builds, progesterone restores.
Fascinatingly, our bodies produce far more progesterone than estrogen especially after ovulation and during pregnancy. That’s not a fluke. It reflects just how critical progesterone is to our overall well-being.
So when ovulation slows or disappears in midlife, it’s not just your period going quiet. It’s this entire downstream network of hormonal resilience especially progesterone that starts to fade. And that’s when symptoms ramp up.
Understanding this isn’t just about managing menopause. It’s about honoring your biology, updating your strategy, and supporting your body like the powerful, responsive system it actually is.
If we want to balance and optimize our hormones in midlife, we have to re-evaluate our goals. This isn’t about grinding harder it’s about getting smarter. And to get smarter, we need to zoom out.
Ovulation isn’t just some fertility footnote-it’s the main event of your cycle. But many of us were taught that the bleed is the cycle. Nope. That’s just the after-party. The headliner? Ovulation.
Why does this matter in midlife?
Because ovulation is what triggers the production of progesterone a hormone that plays a critical role in metabolism, mood, sleep, brain function, and bone health. And spoiler: progesterone is the first to dip off the radar as we enter perimenopause. That’s why your energy feels off, your sleep gets weird, and your tolerance for stress tanks. Your body isn’t broken—it’s adapting.
Here’s where things click into place: your body will only ovulate consistently if it feels safe and nourished. That means you’re eating enough, not overtraining, and not living in a cortisol-fueled chaos spiral.
Ovulation isn’t just about reproduction it’s a vital sign of health. And the two hormones that anchor your entire cycle, estrogen and progesterone, do so much more than regulate periods.
From bone density to brain function, from insulin sensitivity to mitochondrial health, these hormones influence nearly every system in your body. So, when they fluctuate…. or flatline… you feel it. Not just in your body, but in your entire day to day experience.
So, let’s break the rules, rewrite the midlife playbook, and finally start listening to the wisdom our bodies have been whispering all along.
Taste0ftruth Tuesdays 