PEDAGOGUES

Listen Up, Students!

The pedagogues are the educators on the Human Farm. Paida means “little boys.” The pedagogues prey on everyone, but really, they prefer eating children.

They are not the lesser teachers—who are but repeater boxes—but the great childminders of the masses. Pedagogues universally speak down to their listeners, whom they regard as little children. By the way they belittle us, we shall recognize them.

Pedagogues are not creators of new content. They have no faculty for creation, only for conduct. Their sole purpose, and the focus of their cruelty, is the further shriveling of human potential.

The Beginnings

Naturally, the elites of every nation seek to insert themselves—or their friends and family members—into the reality-creation machinery of the state. If this process moves too slowly, they fund their own private fame management, reality shows, and creation factories.

The elites crave constant mention—whether through love or fear—in the public square, forums, magazines, journals, libraries, and research centers. They thrive on fake trophies, scandals, and ridiculous achievements; the more, the better.

However, there is one method of embedding oneself into the collective memory of the masses that surpasses all others: influencing children.

The masters first separate children from their fathers. The children must not idolize their own fathers but instead venerate the fathers of the nation’s founders and grand families. Next, these stolen children are placed into concentrated camps for collective schooling. Finally, the perfect instructors for their indoctrination must be found.

Mothers make excellent nurses but lack in intellect. Thus, the slavers turned to their male slaves, selecting those who were "good with boys." These slaves became the first teachers. Socrates, Confucius, and Jesus all began as wandering teachers for hire.

THE HUMAN FARM - SOON

Not all grand pedagogues in history were ugly. But Socrates was ugly as hell, and so was Confucius. They were also short men. More recent educators often looked outright hideous—so much so that satirical writers have noted the infamous correlation between their monstrous appearances and their flattering portraits. Painters simply beautified these ugly moral teachers, and that was that. For example, compare how Niccolo Machiavelli is portrayed in school textbooks to how he actually looked.

Likewise, Immanuel Kant was short, crooked, and had an enormous head—nothing like his idealized portraits. Jean-Paul Sartre resembled a spawn from hell. Karl Marx was lazy, not ugly. The case could be made that Marx was first a revolutionary, and only second an educator. He had a skin disease. He was also terribly unhygienic. Despite all the ugliness, these were the grand pedagogues who taught generations of boys how to conduct themselves.

There is truth in the old saying, "If you don’t succeed, become a teacher." To which we might add, "A teacher of what? A teacher of success!" All moral teachers wear their corruption on the outside, permanently.

The Middle Part

When the Wittgenstein family, the wealthiest industrial conglomerate of the Austrian Empire, sought to insert their grandson Ludwig into Cambridge University, they bribed none other than Bertrand Russell, the chief educator of the nation, to take him under his wing.

The two got along famously, and awash in donations, Ludwig Wittgenstein outperformed his teacher within three years. Backed by the Jewish wealth of Vienna and the Austrian Empire, Ludwig’s name spread throughout the Western hemisphere. Even Ludwig himself was confused. He had published nothing really—just a collection of logical stuff that only a teacher would say, from mathematics and philosophy; stuff such as, "Doing philosophy is meaningless" or "A proposition consists of names."

Ludwig didn’t want to become a grand pedagogue. He simply wanted to be among little boys and left alone. So, he fled Cambridge and became a schoolteacher in Trattenbach, Austria. There, he abused the children and even punched a young boy to death.

Meanwhile, the Wittgensteins invested fortunes into fake artists and philosophers worldwide. Alongside other Jewish dynasties of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, they bankrolled Parisian culture, psychotherapy, and Hollywood. If you have the time, you can look them up. But they also continued to sponsor their prodigal son Ludwig as the next grand pedagogue on a global scale.

And although Ludwig remained confused by his own fame, his reputation was managed as that of a mentally unstable super-genius and teacher pop icon of Western philosophy of the mind. Today, you cannot get an education in Europe without the Wittgenstein.

The Conclusion

As a rule, once a man or the idea of a man is planted into the thoughts of the masses, it grows like wild bamboo—spreading through rhizomes beneath the surface, invading the land, and eventually turning into grass. THE GRASS.

The aim of all grand educators—whether in state university systems, cultural centers, or the private media industry—is to achieve total penetration, or rather, contagion, of human society with their invasive storytelling wisecrack. The most fertile soil for their musings? Young, impressionable boys. And so, they hire lesser teachers to attend to these boys.

The greatest cheat in all of this is that we, the unmentioned and non-famous, have never resisted. Instead, we have been trimmed, coddled, and contained. The grand pedagogue, this false father figure, instills the greatest awe in us.

Stop believing the education of your slavers. Do not trust their moral teachings. Teachers are monsters.

With this, we conclude the Philosophaster Censoria section of The Human Farm, the final chapter of this work. The book is now complete.