Jon Ronson's Blog, page 4

Hey the Guardian just published this excerpt from my new chapter for the  Shamed paperback, which is out in the UK at the end of December. 

If you already downloaded the Audible audiobook or the Picador Kindle version it’ll automatically refresh with the new chapter in a couple of weeks time. The Riverhead version will update in March, when the paperback is published in the US. 

If you bought the hardback, believe me if I could go to all of your houses and glue in the new chapter I would.

PS if you notice a spelling mistake in a pic somewhere above it’s already been fixed.

A few days ago it was reported that Omar Bakri’s son Mohammed was  executed by ISIS for ‘apostasy’, having gone to Syria to fight with Isis. Omar Bakri is currently in a Lebanese prison. He just got an extra six years added to his sentence.

The comments under the article I read about Mohammed’s death said: ‘LMFAO !’ and ‘I do love these occasional good news stories’ and ‘I hope he suffered!  S-C-U-M-B-A-G!’ And so on. You can imagine.

I found the whole thing desperately sad, because I met Mohammed twenty years ago, when he was just a boy. I filmed him for the documentary I made, with Saul Dibb, about his father. Here’s Mohammed when he was a boy.

From my book, So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed…

Max felt like he’d been
fighting not only for himself, but for the dead that preceded him. He meant
people like Ben Stronge. “He was an English chef living in northern France,
divorced, and he was a swinger. A man and a woman from the News of the World
swung by his place. He gave them dinner, disappeared upstairs, and apparently
came back down wearing nothing but a pouch.”
Max paused. Then he said, softly, “Pathos.”

That was June 1992. When
Ben Stronge discovered that the people looking at him weren’t swingers but News
of the World journalists he started crying. He telephoned the paper’s editor,
Patsy Chapman. “He said, ‘Please don’t publish, because if you do I’ll never
see my children again.’” Well, they published anyway. They didn’t give a damn.
So he killed himself.”

Then there was Arnold
Lewis. In the spring of 1978 the News of the World decided to infiltrate sex
parties in caravans in the forests of mid-Wales. The journalist Tina Dalgliesh
and her photographer Ian Cutler answered a small ad in a swingers’ magazine. It
had been placed by a lay preacher, Arnold Lewis. They met in the local pub.

The turn-out was small. Five people showed up,
three of whom were Tina Dalgliesh, Ian Cutler and Arnold Lewis. Arnold left a
coded note for potential latecomers with an arrow pointing in the direction of
the caravan and the exact walking distance: ‘3.8 miles’.

At the caravan they drank
sherry, ate biscuits, an orgy occurred (which Ian Cutler and Tina Dalgliesh
witnessed but didn’t participate in)  and
then a few days later Tina Dagliesh telephoned Arnold to reveal her identity.

Later, after I left Max, I
managed to get Tina Dalgliesh’s photographer Ian Cutler on the phone. He was
recovering from a major stroke but he wanted to talk. He’d never stopped
thinking about Arnold Lewis, he said. For thirty-five years it had plagued him.

“Arnold told Tina that if she
published the story he would kill himself,” Ian said. “He was a preacher.
Fucking hell. He was a preacher in a small Welsh village.”

The News of the World
published and Arnold Lewis killed himself. He inhaled exhaust fumes. His body
was found in his car the morning the story appeared. The headline read, If You Go Down To The Woods Today You’re
Sure Of A Big Surprise.

There’s a chapter in my book on public shaming that doesn’t get much attention for some reason. It’s about the shaming of the monologuist Mike Daisey. But whenever a new shaming lurches upon us, I remember the brilliant way Mike Daisey described what it feels like  to be on the end of one:

“It feels like they want
an apology, but it’s a lie.” 

Mike Daisey and I were sitting in a Brooklyn
restaurant. He was a big man and he frequently dabbed the perspiration from his
face with a handkerchief that was always within his reach. 

“It’s a lie because
they don’t want an apology,” he said. “An apology is supposed to be a communion
– a coming together. For someone to make an apology someone has to be
listening. They listen and you speak and there’s an exchange. That’s why we
have a thing about accepting apologies. There’s a power exchange that happens.
But they don’t want an apology.” He looked at me. “What they want is my
destruction. What they want is for me to die. They will never say this because
it’s too histrionic. But they never want to hear from me again for the rest of
my life, and while they’re never hearing from me they have the right to use me
as a cultural reference point whenever it services their ends. That’s how it would work out best for them. They would like me to never speak
again.” He paused. “I’d never had the opportunity to be the object of hate
before. The hard part isn’t the hate. It’s the object.”

jonathanronson:

The Psychopath Test, a book by British writer Jon Ronson which delves into the definition of psychopathic behaviour and the real-life people affected by it, is to be adapted into a thriller starring Scarlett Johansson.

The adaptation is to be taken on by Kristin Gore, daughter of former vice president Al Gore, who has previously worked on the forthcoming David O Russell romance Accidental Love. In the director’s chair is Jay Roach, who helmed the Austin Powers and Meet The Parents franchises.

The book is a journalistic foray into the world of psychopathy, looking in particular at the work of Robert D Hare and his checklist to determine the condition – and whether it can indeed be quantified and clearly defined. Ronson’s previous book The Men Who Stare at Goats was similarly adapted for a Hollywood treatment, starring George Clooney, Ewan McGregor and Jeff Bridges.

Hey! You may remember Steve Smith from my book The Psychopath Test. He was the young man who ended up at the Oak Ridge mental hospital - an unwilling participant in their radical experiments. They were trying to cure psychopathy by giving psychopaths massive amounts of LSD and making them strip naked and suck liquid food through straws that protruded from the walls. 

It proved a bad idea. It just made them worse.

Steve just sent me a part of a memoir he’s writing about his time there. I know he was there. I met him through a lawyer. He was part of a class action suit against the hospital. Obviously I can’t verify his extraordinary details below. But I know he was there.

Jon

I met Peter Woodcock in 1968 when I was 18 years old.
He introduced me to “The Brotherhood”.

Peter arrived in this place a decade before me. He knew nothing about the outside world but he heard about hippies.
I was a hippie so he wanted to be my friend.

At first I didn’t know why he was inside. He acted all love and peace and flowers.
He later told me he had murdered three children.
I was surprised to hear this. He didn’t look dangerous.
He was a small innocent looking guy. No one would ever be afraid of this guy.
If you lined up a hundred people he would be the last I would figure as a child sex murderer.

I was already traumatized by what happened to me. I just accepted him as part of my new existence.
When we weren’t locked in our cells we would be together.
He always followed me around asking questions.
He started combing his hair like me, walking like me and trying to imitate the way I talked.
We even tattooed ourselves with the same mark using a homemade rig and cigarette ashes.
( I have had it covered over but it’s still there)

Of course the doctors and guards noticed and saw it as an opportunity for some drug experiments.
No point in going into the details here but briefly it involved naked sessions in a padded room with no windows. Liquid food sucked in through straws in the wall. Sometimes this went on for many days.
It’s all documented in the links I will provide.
When patients tried to kill each other they would be restrained with straps made of seatbelts.
So
I got to know Peter very well in this time.
(See Jon Ronson The Psychopath Test page 75 )
He told me the details of the murders he committed…
It is still burned into my brain although I have never repeated it to anyone.

Some time passed before he told me about the visits he got once a month.
I knew he had no family so who would come to visit him.
With an important and secretive voice he told me it was “The Brotherhood”.
He said they were a sort of religious organization.
I said bible thumpers… no thanks not for me.
He said no not like that… These people are powerful… they can help you.
do you want to meet them?
I can arrange it.

What religion do you know of that goes to visit a three time child murderer every month?
Peter Woodcock was the worst criminal child killer in Canada.
He was Canada’s Hannibal Lecter
an unredeemable psychopath.
Do you think they wanted to save his soul?

At his next visit he asked if they would invite me.
then the following month they did.

The first meeting was awkward…
There were four men.. all older than 50.
And they were all German.
I stood beside Peter when they came into the visiting room.
Before any of them greeted me they each in turn put both hands on peters head and kissed him on the forehead.
Then Peter introduced me.
Not even a handshake … just a nod of their heads.

So from that day on I had a visit to look forward to.
Once a month Peter and I would be alone with these 4 men.
The inmates in this place didn’t get many visitors.

I can’t say much about how they behaved ,
what they said.. what we talked about.
I don’t think there was much talk of God or Jesus..
They would bring German food treats.
I recall laughing the first time I heard the word stolen.. I ate it with pleasure.

Their main interest seemed to be Peter himself.
As though he was important.
None of these men would interrupt Peter when he was talking. But if Peter interrupted one of them , they would shut up right away.
They were all so much physically bigger than both of us…
I always felt intimidated during these visits.
I tried to be polite.
It’s hard to describe but I thought they didn’t want me to be nice.
They were more friendly when I said something not so nice.
Have you seen pope Benedict smile?
Imagine that times four in a small room with a child killer.

I think I know now why Peter was important to them.
You need to understand the depth of evil in some people.
To them Peter was an icon of evil and I was Peters friend.

In these months the drug experiments were intense.
Sometimes I would visit with the brotherhood in a state of delirium.
I’m not sure what was real and what was hallucination.

The lead doctor in this experiment had contacts at the local highschool.
Some of the students were his outpatients.
One day he told me he was going to take me to the local high school to give a talk to the students about
the dangers of drugs.
WOW
I was so happy.
I had not seen the sky over my head for a long long time.

He took me out the heavily bared front door.
No hand-cuffs no guard.
I could have ran away… but I didn’t.
I thought I was important on that day.

The doctor drove his own car with me beside him.
Up to now every move I made was monitored by guards.
I was made to think I was dangerous.
This day I was a normal 18 year old.

I find myself on a stage in the school Gym with a panel of teachers and social workers.
The kids got to ask questions and the panel directed me to answer some of them.
I was dressed in institution cloths and that was embarrassing because ….
Well it just makes you look crazy.

These kids were about the same age as me.
Lots of pretty hippy chicks in the front row.
When the thing was finished I sat on the edge of the stage and talked to a bunch of
girls.
I think the panel thought I would be an example of why they should avoid drugs.
It didn’t work out that way.
The girls treated me like a rock star.
I was in heaven or a moment.

Then back to the bars and slamming doors.

The next day I got a visit.
Five girls from the high school!
The next day there were fifteen.
Then every day or two a bunch of them would come.
It was great
I can’t tell you…just the smell of girls hair…

It went on for a few weeks.
Then they cut it off.
I did get letters from some of them.

Then
I was released.

And the only place I had to go was to the Brotherhood.

I was locked up for eight months. No one came to visit and I got no letters.
What family I had would have nothing to do with me.
The youngest son was in a hospital for the criminally insane… what a shame!

Then the Review board decided I was not nuts and really didn’t belong in this snake pit.
Oh… I didn’t mention… I stole a car and got caught right away.
I did not kill anyone and had never hurt anyone in my life.
All of my fellow inmates were killers ,rapists , child molesters… monsters!
The real kind.

They had to let me go.
The car theft charge had been dropped seven months ago and there was no legal reason to hold me.
Problem was I had no place to go.
Then the brotherhood stepped in.
They offered to take care of me, give me a place to live and help me adjust to the outside.

I got back the same cloths I wore when I came in almost a year before.
A little smelly.
An empty wallet and some boots with a hole in both heels.
And
A buss ticket to Toronto and an address to the brotherhood house.
A guard was nice enough to give me a ride to the Greyhound station.

I wanted to go straight back to Yorkville Village but I didn’t even have money to eat.
So I walked to the House on Victor Street.

Mr. Brotherhood X and his wife were so happy to see me.
They said they didn’t think I would come.
They were both in their seventies.
The house was big… three stories made of brick.

I looked it up recently on Google and it’s still there.

They gave me a small room on the third floor.
Everything in the house was German.
Art, furniture, plates on the kitchen wall.
All German theme.
It was like stepping back to 1930s Berlin.
But nothing Christian.
No crucifix or bleeding heart Jesus.
Lots of old photographs of men in uniform.

I stayed there for a few days and only came out of my room to eat.
Mrs. X was very nice to me.
I didn’t know what to do. I was kind of screwed up from the past year of drug experiments.

I thought it’s only a matter of time until religion comes into it.
They will bible thump me eventually.
But it never happened.

One day I was alone in the house.
I started snooping around…
Looking in closets and such.
I went to the basement and found an old leather coat hanging on the wall.
It was stiff as a board but very cool.
A German officers great coat.
It even had a built in holster.
There was a tin of Dubbin in the kitchen.
I put newspaper on the floor and spent the day working the leather
with dubbin.
In a few hours it looked great again.

Mr. and Mrs. X came home and I showed him what I had done with the coat.
He was very excited and happy with me.
He told me it was his coat from the war.
Then he told me I could have it.
It was too big but I will wear it anyway.

Then he said something strange.
" I have that coat because of paperclip"
And he smiled and told me it looked good on me.

I didn’t have a clue what that meant but I was happy to have the coat.

In the next part I will tell you about my return to the town and the high school girls.
Then it gets creepy.

Posted with his permission:

Hi Jon,

I imagine at this point with your new article going up about Justine Sacco that you’re receiving several more emails than usual. For this reason I might say something like “I’ll try to keep this short”, but I know that will be difficult.

Your article is particularly interesting to me. I don’t know if the severity of the online attack that targeted me matched Sacco’s, but perhaps that doesn’t matter.

In August 2013, while living in Brooklyn, I released a film called Tennessee Wonderland (shot in Tennessee in May 2013) on YouTube showing me walking around an uninhabited town in the Tennessee mountains. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zfaTpunhJRs

For the last five minutes of the film I presented the history of the old town, and how it came to be empty. I’ve been shooting and editing video for years, so it was a thrill to present such a project that was created in my home state of Tennessee. A month later The Huffington Post and Yahoo News picked up the story and helped earn 250,000 views for the video. It was great, and I was appreciative of the support. What’s not to like, right? What can go wrong here?

For the next 13 months between September 2013 and the end of September 2014, things were quiet. I moved to San Diego in April. The video had several views coming in every day, but nothing too much. Then right around the beginning of October 2014 I noticed an abnormally large amount of YouTube subscribers flooding in. I checked real-time analytics and found that a website called Roadtrippers decided to run a story about the short film. 

https://roadtrippers.com/blog/hiker-discovers-an-abandoned-town-inside-tennessees-great-smoky-mountains-national-park

The headline: “Hiker discovers an abandoned town inside Tennessee’s Great Smoky Mountains National Park”. I was thrilled. Then, surprisingly, The Huffington Post picked up the story…again. Great, right?

Then The Daily Mail picked it up. Then USA Today. RT. NBC, CBS and ABC affiliates, etc. It spread like wildfire. Then came the shocker… it was the #1 trending topic worldwide on Facebook for 12 hours straight. I was happy that my short film was receiving so much feedback and attention. Little did I know that the word “discovered” would be so scrutinized. The word had felt harmless for more than a year. People began assuming from sensational media headlines that I was claiming to be the first to find the area, and that I was claiming I was the first human to find the empty town in 100 years.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2779992/Hiker-discovers-abandoned-Tennessee-town-untouched-100-years-trekking-Great-Smoky-Mountains-National-Park.html

Angry emails began to flood in through my website. Angry Facebook comments were posted under every media story for local news and major blogs across the web. People were saying horrible things about me and making jokes about the headlines that targeted me. 

http://www.wbir.com/story/news/local/2014/10/06/elkmont-discovery-debunked/16803541/

Worst of all was this news report on WBIR in east Tennessee. It seems he was catering his report to the audience rather than properly researching everything, which was sad. I was baffled when I first saw the way he talked and walked in the report, mocking me. The online stories and comments all came from people who didn’t take the time to watch my entire video, including the ending when I explain the history of the area.

Mob mentality took over. The people who came after me didn’t read the stories or watch the short film. They saw the sensational headlines and dove straight for the comments and my email address.

I felt impacted emotionally, perhaps deeply for a short time, losing sleep while in bed, responding to angry emails and comments to let people know it was the media blowing things out of proportion. I remember several nights of not being able to sleep at all.

One of the main topics that comes from my story of media mayhem is that all of these local tv stations and big online blogs usually have to write and publish their stories in one day. They have deadlines. And they want to make their headline the most sensational so it looks most interesting, so it gets the most clicks for ad money, and so it lands at the top of the trending stories for that particular topic on Facebook. Clickbait. It’s just clickbait. And for the tv news reporter on WBIR, the theatrics of the reporter as he talks and walks seems very strange. 

http://www.wbir.com/story/news/local/2014/10/06/elkmont-discovery-debunked/16803541/

This is a man who likely attended a four year school to major in journalism, and when he gets a job reporting the news he squanders away an opportunity to report a story with proper research, all because the specific media field in which he works, television, does not allow enough time in one day to properly create a news report.

So now it’s 4-5 months later, and I’m ok. I’m still finding articles that were published at the time back in early October. CNN did an article. So did Weather.com. I mean even Coca Cola did a story for their website. The Daily Mail actually posted the wrong video in their article, which made no sense to me. And USA Today uploaded the affiliate story to their sports YouTube account. Strange stuff.

The internet can quickly become a scary place. People who you might see at church on Sunday, your job during the week or taking the kids to soccer practice… people who seem nice and look normal… can turn into monsters when they get on Facebook, or comment on a blog. They see a headline from a favorite news source, trust their every word and go straight for the comments section.

I had the best of intentions in releasing a film not about Elkmont, Tennessee, but about a small part of Elkmont that most people drive right past… a place up on a hill. I succeeded in getting people to watch it, but did I envision amassing nearly 2,000,000 views this way? No. But I am glad that more people now know about Great Smoky Mountains National Park. I am glad that the film does show truth. I just wonder how often this happens to other people. Seeing your story shine a light on the crazy nature of online outrage is refreshing. It’s like I have someone who might understand.

jonathanronson:

This is getting linked to all over the place, which I find thrilling despite Adam and I claiming to scorn that sort of thing in the piece.

I’ve known Adam Curtis for nearly 20 years. We’re friends. We see movies together, and once even went to Romania on a mini-break to attend an auction of…