We Become Our Thoughts

What a white supremacist debutante teaches us about Stoic psychology

For several weeks, I have been emphasizing the wisdom that is found particularly in the moral psychology of Stoic writing (though the Stoics themselves may have called this simply ‘ethics.’) One point, which was the focus of an entire post on its own, was that our minds can be dyed — that is, we can change the way we think by repeating certain thoughts to ourselves on a regular basis.

Dyeing Your Mind

Of the many criticisms that could be made in this newsletter, the one I find the most compelling is the fact that I tend to speak in generalities. I do not give many specific examples. I say we should contemplate higher things and strive towards virtue, but I don’t say what those higher things are and I never talk about, e.g., courage. Today, I want to focus on a particular example. It is, however, a negative example — it is an illustration of what not to do.

The example comes from Jon Ronson’s latest podcast series, The Debutante. For those who do not know Ronson, consider yourself lucky: you have some great books to read and some great podcasts to consume. Ronson is a master of narrative storytelling and journalistic investigation. I particularly recommend his books Them and So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed, and if podcasts are your thing I recommend his series The Butterfly Effect.¹

The Debutante focuses on Carol Howe, a former socialite and debutante in Tulsa, OK who became a white supremacist (and, eventually, an FBI informant and then, it seems, a white supremacist again). Her story is made all the more interesting because of its connection to the Oklahoma City Bombing, the largest domestic terrorist attack on US soil.

The story of how exactly Carol Howe found her way to white supremacy is complicated — you would need to listen to Ronson’s series for the details — but there are two major events that I would like to focus on.

As a child, Howe felt like an outcast. She became a fan of goth music and began to dress like a goth — something that is probably familiar to a few of my readers. (I myself had a bit of an emo phase, and I am thankful smartphone cameras did not exist at the time.) But Howe became a particularly enamored with a band called Throbbing Gristle.

Throbbing Gristle, frankly, are more of a visual arts group than a proper band — I remember discovering them when I was in high school, as I was seeking out more and more obscure music online, and I don’t think I ever found a song by Throbbing Gristle I could listen to from the beginning. But for some reason, Howe became a fan, and she eventually lived with a group of Throbbing Gristle fans.

Throbbing Gristle was a transgressive band, and they dabbled in ironic fascism. Something that gets overlooked in histories of punk and alternative music, at least by casual observers, is how common this was. A prominent example was David Bowie, who flirted with fascism during his Thin White Duke era. Most of this flirtation was ironic, transgressive, and intentionally provocative. (I believe in Throbbing Gristle’s case this was true — I do not think the members of Throbbing Gristle were actual fascists at any point.)

This seems to be how Howe discovered more explicit ideas of fascism. But the vast majority of Throbbing Gristle fans never became white supremacists — the same is true of Bowie fans. It would be a mistake to say that just listening to Throbbing Gristle or Station to Station makes one a fascist. The numbers just don’t support the conclusion.

Yet, for some small group of people, Throbbing Gristle seemed to serve as an introduction to a particularly odious way of thinking. Carol Howe was one of them. At some point, perhaps an ironic entertaining of Nazism gave way to serious consideration. Howe eventually would get a swastika tattooed on her arm and an Iron Cross tattooed on her leg (when, exactly, is a bit fuzzy, but I believe her swastika was obtained before she became involved in actual white supremacist organizations).

At some point, after Howe had gotten married, she was injured. Just how she was injured is a matter of some dispute — Howe’s story changed, and her ex-husband claims it was accident while Howe would claim it was a racially motivated attack. (This attack would serve as a key part of her radicalization testimony — though, again, there’s a good chance there was no attack.) Howe and her ex-husband obtained a variety of prescription drugs from doctors while she recovered, and that is where Howe’s story takes an even darker turn.

In the city where they lived, a telephone service had popped up: Dial-a-Racist. Every day, a white supremacist would record messages of racial supremacy and the need for violence. While on various prescription drugs, Howe would call into this service and listen to the man speak over and over again. These vile ideas were heard over and over again.

Howe’s story continues from there — but for the rest, I would suggest just listening to Ronson. He will tell it much better than I can. But here is where the Stoic insights we have been considering become highly relevant.

When Marcus Aurelius wants to comfort himself, he rehearses certain philosophical arguments. One concerns his death. The argument he makes is similar, though not the same, to the argument Socrates makes about his own death. According to Socrates, either death is nothingness or it is a descent into Hades (or something like that). If death is nothingness, then Socrates has nothing to fear, just as he does not fear sleep. If it is a descent into Hades, at least there will be interesting people to talk to, and Socrates can continue to do philosophy. Either way, there is nothing to fear. If one can be convinced by these arguments, one can overcome the fear of death.

Marcus fears death. But he does not want to fear death. Similarly, he wants to live by his principles. He does not always do so, but he wants to. So he reminds himself of his principles. That is the primary function of the Meditations. It is not a record of events, and it is not a philosophical treatise. It is a tool for growing in virtue and overcoming the anxiety and despair of ordinary life. Marcus does this in large part through repetition. He fills his mind with a way of thinking until that becomes his way of thinking.

In Howe’s case, there was obviously some underlying racial hatred. Perhaps she had developed a low-grade animosity toward various racial and ethnic groups while a child in Tulsa, or perhaps she overgeneralized from some negative interactions and began engaging in group-level reasoning. She wanted to be a racist, and so she used a phone hotline to fill her mind with white supremacist ideas. Howe is the negative Marcus Aurelius. Instead of contemplating thoughts that bring peace or help the development of virtue, she sought discord and vice. And she did so repetitively — she sat at her phone, listening to the recording on repeat, and changing herself.

Consider, instead, some of the truths that Marcus would have us consider. All of humanity is connected and related, and what affects one affects the other. Every vicious person is that way because they have forgotten what goodness is. Peace is always available to you if you are willing to seek it.

Now, think about the thoughts that are filling your mind. I do not just mean the thoughts and ideas that you intentionally seek out, like the Meditations or other great books, but also the thoughts that you routinely encounter. Think of your media choices, which will eventually influence the way you think. Or the sorts of conversations you thoughtlessly engage in. Few of us are like Carol Howe, explicitly listening to content intended to radicalize us — but how many of us are engaging with content that is only good at desensitizing us to the beauty in the world? We are thankfully not seeking out white supremacist messages, but just because we have avoided the unambiguously evil does not mean we have sought out the good instead.

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