Diary of a supervillain

I hate it here. I miss my lair.

Every day it’s the same bloody thing. Communal meals of banal food. Endless group therapy sessions where I am forced to listen to men and women (and a few other things) whimper about their terrible childhoods in order to please our fatuous caretakers. Individual therapy, where I am expected to bare all to some low achiever versed in psychiatric quackery. And hours of forced fun where they lock us out of our rooms and into the recreation area to “socialize”.

Supervillains socialize about as well as sharks do, and for much the same reason. Megalomania does not spring from an active social life. We keep to ourselves.

At least I’m a “UP”, or Unpowered. All my villainous superpowers disappeared when those wretched little monkeys pried me from my power armor like they were stripping a harlot. They were so eager to examine all my advanced technologies (as if they could possibly comprehend them) that they ignored my vehement warnings and a few of them perished from either clumsy handling of powerful technology or the booby traps I had installed in my power armor long, long ago.

And I regret that. I did all that I could to prevent it, but I still feel bad about these young people dying from systems I put in place so long ago that I barely remember half of them. They died at my hand, in a way, and that burdens me heavily.

Would a “raving monster” feel that way? The media calls me a sociopath, but that has never been true. I simply lack altruism. There is a world of difference between being morally inert and simply having no desire to go out of my way to help my fellow upright primates. I wish people understood that.

I understand that the theatrical nature of my chosen profession fooled millions of people into thinking I was truly a black-hearted villain of monstrous dimension.

But the truth is, I never wanted to hurt anybody. I would never have actually activated any of my doomsday devices. To be honest, most of them wouldn’t have done the job even if I had. Why build an actual doomsday device when a convincing fake does the job just as well?

It amuses me to imagine the look on Captain Trueheart’s face if he knew that the Ticktock Device he fought so hard to “disarm” was about as dangerous as a broken alarm clock.

To be honest, I miss him. Of all the superheroes I ever fought, he was the one who came closest to matching me mentally, and I respect him for that. If he was on the case, I knew I would have to work especially hard. He hides it under his “hero pure and strong” persona, but he has as twisted and devious a mind as any of my fellow inmates.

I would love to sit down with him for a chat or maybe a game of chess now that the medications have made me less…. volatile. I am still the same man who terrorized the world, but the medications do a wonderful job of restraining my overweaning egomania enough that I can retain control of myself.

Therapy may be a farce, but there is no denying the efficacy of chemistry.

If I seem especially cranky and bitter today, it’s probably because I just lost a friend. They finally figured out that my roommate “Toby” (no more his name than I am “Anthony”) really is a green-skinned frog-person from another dimension sent here to destroy us all, and not the mild-mannered insurance broker with a costume fetish he’d conned them into thinking he was.

Once they twigged to that, they realized that they only believed his absurd cover story because of his mind powers, and that meant he had to be transferred to the “Powered” ward.

And as banal and insipid as this ward might be, I wouldn’t wish the Powered ward on anyone, let alone someone I have come to view as a friend. The residents of the Powered ward are kept drugged up to the gills (in his case, literally) to the point that they are almost catatonic. The drugs leave them in a state of placid imbecility, and the thought of my friend “Toby” being reduced to such a state effects me deeply.

His final words to me were “Farewell, pink flesh-bag. May you be the last to die. ”

Coming from him, that meant a lot to me.

At least my new roommate “Mark” seems promising. I am not allowed to reveal his true persona, but let’s just say he used to work in pyrotechnics. Rather impressive ones. He and I seem to be cut from approximately the same kind of cloth, as he too was a self-made villain and owed his powers not to fate but to the power of his mind. His approach was a tad less refined than mind, but I always admired his work. His theatricality exceeded even my own. His hostage videos always had me spellbound.

I don’t know what he thinks of me. Perhaps he has yet to deduce my true identity. It usually doesn’t take long. Our caretakers seem to think that if we never speak of our previous lives, we can all pretend to be “normal”, but we figure out who’s who pretty quickly despite all that.

Once he figures it out, I expect I will have to endure the usual period of reverence and adulation. I am somewhat of a big name in our select little social circle, and have through seniority become mentor to many a rising hopeful, and so the young villains all clamor for my imprimatur.

Then comes the disappointment as they realize that the person they think I am no longer exists. I am now as I was before I took the path of villainy : a soft-spoken scholar who fades into the woodwork by choice.

Not very exciting, given my previous high profile, but I am content.

I have now “journaled” the requisite number of words, and thus, I conclude.

Privacy, paranoia, and superstition

For the most part, privacy concerns operate as superstitions.

They have to, because the harm involved is such an ephemeral thing. They exist in a very abstract area of the mind that it is nearly impossible to apprehend rationally.

It is hard to make a solidly rational argument about something that doesn’t hurt you and probably never will.

I mean, say the government wanted to put security cameras in every room in every house everywhere. It would mean the annihilation of the very concept of privacy from the point of view of the relationship between citizens and their government.

We would be horrified at the very thought of it. Someone seeing our most private and intimate moments? Intolerable.

And yet, if the government somehow pulled it off despite the public outcry, you would soon get used to it. Sure, in theory, you have no privacy at all any more. But most people would never be otherwise effected about it at all.

The cameras would be there, but you’d forget about them soon enough. Most people don’t actually break the law in their own homes, so the police would never come busting through the door of your average family dwelling. Most people would never hear a peep from the government at all.

Why is this? Because our social privacy remains intact.

Sure, maybe some government employee somewhere sees what goes on in your bedroom (and your bathroom, ick) but you don’t know them, will never hear from them, and it will never impact your life in any way.[1]

So what, exactly, have you lost? The concept creeps pretty much anyone out, but it’s hard to argue why.

Hence, superstition. We get a profound sense of unease and possibly even terror at the thought of such an invasion of our personal domain, but the facts supporting it are nebulous at best.

The only way to make a logical argument is to start from the position that human beings, however rational or irrational it may be, have a strong instinct towards privacy.

This is easily demonstrated via cross-cultural analysis. There are two things that, regardless of all other variables, human beings simply do not do in public : mate, and defecate.

There is no culture on Earth where people routinely have sex in the street, just like there is no culture on Earth where people do not seek privacy for acts of elimination. The exact operation of these deep taboos varies from culture to culture, but just as there is no society that does not have marriage, there are no societies without these taboos.

So clearly our privacy concerns stem from something far deeper than reasoned argument or pragmatic concern. We want it because we are driven by deep instinct, the same kind of instinct that makes us want sex, status, and freedom.

We don’t physically need any of those. But any conception of human happiness that doesn’t take those into account is laughable.

And so it goes with privacy. Regardless of actual consequences, we will react very strongly to any invasion of our privacy. The development of our modern conception of privacy, where our homes are the place where we can escape the larger social structure and “be ourselves”, and where in our bedrooms and bathrooms we can even safely violate our nudity, sexuality, and toilet taboos in rooms we have all agreed are the proper place for those activities.

But these taboos are part of our social instincts. As such, they are dependent on social context. That’s why the full surveillance program I described above would fade into the background of most people’s lives. Without someone to, in essence, point and laugh at us, or react in horror and shock, our shame is not activated and therefore our privacy instinct isn’t either.

When we are speaking strictly of privacy from our government, things get a lot trickier.

Because all we have to deal with that kind of privacy concern is instinct and superstition, the people arguing against any expansion of government powers will always come across as irrational and paranoid. The argument that if you aren’t doing anything wrong, you have nothing to fear, will come up and it is a powerful one.

And it’s not always wrong, either. One only has to imagine turning that thinking on the powers that be to understand that.

A lot of people worry that any expansion of surveillance will lead to an Orwellian nightmare society. This is a very common and strong response, but it is not actually rational. It is, instead, a veneer of reason concealing a superstitious fear.

At the core of this fear is a misunderstanding (or outright ignorance) of what it is that protects your privacy right now.

Sure, most of us get that we have rights and those rights protect us from the government on some level or other. This is true, but it is only a small part of the picture.

What truly keeps your privacy intact is the moral principle of reciprocity. We all, deep down inside, understand that we don’t peek into other people’s windows because we wouldn’t want our own peeked into. When we imagine doing wrong, we imagine it being done to us, and thus we are stopped.

In short, what really protects our privacy, and everything else we hold dear, is the moral character of our neighbors.

This not a concept readily accepted by the citizens of a modern individualist society. Individualism breeds suspicion of others by isolating citizens from connection to what their collective does (none of us had to get together to build that road, we just had to pay for it), and so the notion that it is not law or ourselves who create society but the collective moral nature of all our fellow citizens does not seem sufficient to us.

It is nevertheless true.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

Footnotes    (↵ returns to text)

  1. This all assumes that the footage has the same restriction as any other evidence in police custody, so that you won’t see a video of yourself on the toilet on YouTube or end up being watched by your next door neighbor or anything.