There is today an active Gnostic sect. Few people can be said to be consciously enthusiastic members, but it is nonetheless a sect. It teaches a worldview which has evolved somewhat over the sect’s existence, but was from the beginning rooted in Gnosticism and has become increasingly reminiscent of Gnosticism with the passage of time, and in recent years has openly switched to some specifically Gnostic terminology to explain its ideas.
Its adherents wouldn’t necessarily think of it as a religious movement, and many of them actively follow other spiritual traditions in parallel to it – but if they have taken the teachings of this sect seriously, then that will inevitably affect their relationship with those other traditions and how they view them. Different levels of involvement exist, ranging from people who just read a few books or watch a few DVDs to more enthusiastic members who discuss the leader’s teachings enthusiastically on his website forums, or who attend massive, day-long lectures which the sect’s leader holds in major venues like Wembley Arena in order to endlessly restate, reiterate, and reinforce his essential points.
That leader came out of the world of politics, and the tone of the sect has been relentlessly political over the years. From his home in Britain he commands a cottage industry based around his writings, videos, and other endeavours. Unlike, say, an L. Ron Hubbard type, this leader does not have legions of followers at his beck and call; he does not seem to be interested in setting up an expansive organisation when he doesn’t really need one to promote his businesses, and similarly he doesn’t seem interested in setting up any sort of isolated community or commune. He has been justifiably cautious of being labelled a cult leader, and all of that would seem rather culty and be of questionable value.
The ideas espoused by this sect are extreme. For years there have been accusations of antisemitic undertones, not helped by the leader’s endorsement of infamous Jew-bashing literature of decades past. In recent years, the leader’s rhetoric on transgender issues has become alarmingly extreme. The leader has a tendency to denounce and dehumanise major public figures, to the extent of suggesting that they aren’t even authentic human beings.
And whilst few if any will say that they believe the leader’s teachings uncritically, his ideas have percolated widely. The leader is willing to talk to New Age audiences, militia audiences, radical environmentalist audiences, and alt-right audiences. Despite occasional outbreaks of animosity between this leader and Alex Jones of InfoWars infamy, the leader of this sect has been regularly interviewed on that platform. There’s one of his teachings which has permeated the public consciousness so widely that some 4% of Americans claim to believe it, which is especially disturbing since it’s one of the ideas which has dehumanising and allegedly antisemitic undertones.
The ideas of this modern-day prophet have percolated through pop culture, and whilst many find them laughable, we live in strange times. Another Alex Jones interviewee who was subjected in very recent memory to widespread ridicule is now President of the United States. Back in Britain, the allegations this leader has made over the years about widespread child abuse seemed to gain some credibility in the wake of the Jimmy Savile scandal. For a great number of years he has been implacably hostile to the EU; now Brexit is looming (though it remains an open question whether it will actually occur, or whether it will be a full break or a mere fudge once it does happen, and how long the UK will remain out of the EU after it does happen).
It was clearly a mistake to laugh at and dismiss Trump and Alex Jones; the opportunity to put them under the microscope and really analyse and explain both why their ideas are wrong and why they had the appeal that they did was missed. We should not do the same with this leader.
That’s why I’m going to do a series covering the books of this religious leader, who has done more to propagate and teach Gnostic ideas to the general public in Britain than anyone has for centuries.
That leader… is David Icke.
Background Part 1: David and Me
I’ve long been fascinated by Icke as a public figure. I was a little too young to know him as a television personality, so he first burst onto my consciousness following his infamous “Turquoise period”, of which more later. Later, once he shifted gear from being a sort of bland New Age sunshine-and-rainbows author into one of the more extravagantly grandiose conspiracy theorists out there, I read some of his books back when I was going through a phase of reading such tomes for the sake of pure entertainment rather than seeing them as a source of education, a phase which, I admit, I haven’t entirely grown out of.
Once he became the most visible (but far from the first) individual to push the “shapeshifting Reptoids secretly rule us, like in that old TV show V” theory, he became a widespread figure of fun yet again, a whole generation of students who like me missed his turquoise meltdown finding the whole reptilian thing hilarious. I won a prize in a fancy dress contest once by wearing a decent reptile mask and going as “David Icke”, and this was a fancy dress contest at a roleplaying game club’s Christmas party so you know I had some hardcore competition there.
However, for all the reasons I outlined above before I dropped his name, I think Icke is worth looking at with a slightly more serious critical eye. Birtherism, at the end of the day, isn’t that much more ridiculous than the Reptoid theory – but it got Trump into the White House. Moreover, the fact that Icke has been able to set up this little cottage industry for himself, from which he earns a whole lot of money, is notable in and of itself, as is the voices he chooses to promote. He’s always been keen on alternative medicine, and promotes anti-vaccination conspiracy theories which put at risk not only those who refuse vaccines, but also people who medically cannot receive vaccines whose only hope of protection is “herd immunity” on the part of others; as I mentioned, he’s lurched recently into open transphobia. The idea that his theories are outright harmless is not credible (and there’s good reasons why I buy his stuff second-hand from sellers who I am reasonably certain do not advance any unsavoury political agendas).
Likewise, for nearly two decades he has been energetically promoting conspiracy theories about massive networks of child abusers, to the extent of providing a platform for and promoting the allegations of Arizona Wilder, who claims that various major figures including actual US Presidents sexually abused her and turned into Reptoids whilst doing so. As I discussed in a long digression in my review of The Devil’s Web, whilst “believe women, believe victims” is usually a good rule of thumb, like any rule of thumb it’s an approximation, not the whole truth, and Arizona Wilder is one of the major exceptions to that; whilst I can entirely believe that bad things may have happened to Arizona Wilder, the specific things she alleges happened are clearly not remotely credible, and I think it is in highly bad taste to encourage her in promoting those allegations.
The Operation Midland debacle, as outlined in the Devil’s Web article, offers a vivid example of what happens when people with an agenda – like Icke – get their claws into someone like Wilder. If Wilder is deliberately fabricating her story, she and Icke are both doing the world a disservice by perpetuating it (not least because of the ammo it gives to people who want us to dismiss far more credible stories); if she genuinely believes it, Icke should be ashamed of himself for promoting it and encouraging it to the extent that he has.
Background Part 2: The Early Icke
We will get into all that eventually. Before we kick off, though, it’s worth covering what are the universally-accepted facts about Icke’s early life, prior to his career taking the turn which would make him infamous. Having grown up in Leicester in England, Icke had a promising career on leaving school as a footballer, taking up the unglamorous but undeniably important post of goalkeeper for Coventry City. However, before his career had really gotten off the ground he came down with rheumatoid arthritis, and though he made an earnest attempt to keep going despite that it eventually became impossible for him to continue his on-field career.
Contacts made during that time allowed him to land a job in local journalism, then local television, then the BBC, where he became a fairly regular sports presenter – he appeared on Grandstand, he did the sports segments on the Saturday Superstore kid’s show, he did the sports news on early editions of Breakfast Time and Newsnight.
So far, so Alan Partridge. (Steve Coogan may well have based the character partly on Icke, in fact; recall that in his first incarnation he was the sport presenter for The Day Today, Chris Morris’ savage and still-accurate satire of television news, as well as for Day Today‘s radio predecessor On the Hour.) Having moved to the scenic Isle of Wight in the 1980s, Icke became involved in local politics and, finding none of the mainstream parties to be much worth his time, was instrumental in setting up the local branch of the Green Party. This led to an increased involvement in the Green Party – to an extent that the BBC dropped him due to their stated need for political neutrality – and he eventually rose to become one of their Principal Speakers. (At the time the Greens had multiple Principal Speakers instead of a single “party leader”; rumours swirled that Icke was going to push to become overall party leader, but he never did.)
Icke was, if not a major celebrity, at least a very familiar figure who was generally liked by audiences, was undeniably articulate, and was clearly very principled; his involvement with the Green Party seemed to be a major opportunity for him to do some major good and seriously shake up the UK political scene. However, he sensationally resigned from his position, telling his colleagues that he expected to soon be the centre of major controversy and didn’t want that to detract from the party. (Though, as we shall see, he didn’t make as clean a break as that – with the result that the Greens did unfortunately get seen as the party of David Icke, prompting a nasty ding in their fortunes.)
Before I get into covering the stuff I want to cover, I should mention what material I’m going to skip. I’m not going to cover Icke’s first book – It’s a Tough Game, Son! – which came out in the early 1980s as a collection of advice for teenage boys thinking of a career in football. It was penned well before his spiritual change of course, and though I’ve not read it I suspect it’s probably a quite good set of advice. Icke’s football career ended young and he never hit the pinnacle of playing for England or anything like that, but in his autobiography In the Light of Experience, which I will be covering in this article, he shows an ability to clearly explain how the business works from the point of view of a player whilst also illuminating why management make the decisions they make too. It’s evident that between his own experiences and the broader knowledge he gained as a sports journalist that he was well-placed to write such a book.
Nor will I cover It Doesn’t Have to Be This Way, written during his involvement with the Green Party, since so far as I’m aware it’s an entirely mundane introduction to Green politics – if there were any contentious content in it from a Green perspective, we’d surely have heard about it. Moreover, given his post in the party at the time it seems likely it was written with at least half an eye on the Green Party’s official platform.
No, the first book I’m going to cover is the one whose publication Icke already knew, back in late 1990, might cause enough of a kerfuffle that it’d be good for the Green Party if he were no longer a member once the controversy hit. Grab your radios, gang, we’re going to tune into…
The Truth Vibrations
This is almost like an entry in the “psychic questing” subgenre that had been making waves in New Age circles at the time, mashed up with an autobiographical story of a religious conversion experience. The Truth Vibrations is essentially Icke’s account of his spiritual conversion, written if not whilst it was occurring then at the very least very close to the events in question, and indeed whilst events were already actively unfolding.
Icke had already been poking about in the world of alternative medicine to try and help the ongoing trouble his arthritis was causing him. In this book he discusses how in 1990 he simultaneously felt rather depressed and like invisible forces were trying to make contact with him; parallels with Philip K. Dick‘s accounts of his 2-3-74 experience could be drawn if you had a mind to. A sudden hunch in a newsagent’s shop directed his attention to a book by Betty Shine, psychic and healer; making an appointment ostensibly to deal with the arthritis, Icke was astonished to be informed by Shine that various powerful figures from the spirit world like Socrates were taking an interest in Icke’s life.
This kicks off an intense and highly active phase of spiritual exploration and experimentation on the part of Icke, much of it directed by channelled communications received by the various experienced psychics Icke consults. Icke discusses how he let himself be led by these communications, developed his own psychic capabilities, and took on the task of setting the world’s spiritual energy matrix to rights; in the process of telling this story, Icke also sets out a very early version of his new spiritual philosophy (in which, naturally, he was greatly led and influenced by the individuals he’d been working with). Typical of a lot of this sort of material, Icke insists on giving a cosmic importance to utterly mundane instances, like a friend being unable to find him and another friend at a rendezvous despite the fact that they were sure they were there at the same time.
The basic thesis of the book is that we’re coming into a time of massive spiritual awakening, the titular Truth Vibrations being energies transmitted by friendly spiritual forces in order to activate this – and David Icke is a crucial mouthpiece playing a vital role in conveying this information to the masses. Icke’s ideas are framed in classic New Age terms, as you would expect given the circles he was moving in at the time. Betty Shine had successfully persuaded him that he had a super-important spiritual mission, as well as confirming the notion he’d already half-suspected that he was being guided through life by powerful spirits. (The fact that he was a minor celebrity that she’d have recognised, and might have given New Age beliefs more credibility were it not for the car crash way he handled his public announcement of them, surely wasn’t a factor in Betty’s thinking).
Over the course of the book Icke talks up all sorts of wild predictions – he was convinced, for instance, that the 1990s would see an incredible amount of earthquakes and volcanoes and other seismic activity as the energy matrix righted itself. Cleverly, he gives himself an out by claiming that if people act in time the predicted horrors can be prevented. Thus, if the predictions he comes up with himself or is given by others happen to come to pass, he’s proved right, and if the predictions fail then he can claim victory! (As it turns out even minor predictions of Icke’s would turn out to go awry; the book predicted he’d leave the Isle of Wight soon, but so far as I’m aware he still lives there to this day.)
Icke writes here with the zeal of a recent convert but also with the shallowness of someone who’s only studied a very basic version of the sort of material he’s talking about; you would think that being effectively a mere beginner in the field, Icke would have opted to write an introduction for one of Betty Shine’s books or take her or someone else on as a more experienced cowriter who could explain the spiritual ideas the book is trying to promote with more clarity whilst Icke focused on his personal perspective and his account of his experience. However, if he did have a co-author this time, he doesn’t credit them: instead he goes it alone, despite having been involved in all this for less than a year, and as you’d expect he makes a bit of a hash of explaining some of the ideas and reveals just how much of a beginner he actually was at this stage.
For instance, there’s a hilarious instance of the Dunning-Kruger effect at work in the Grand Design chapter, where he starts talking about planes and dimensions, makes a bit of a hash of it, and then clearly realises he’s made a hash of it and says “To be honest, though, I would like to have much more information before I would be confident enough to say exactly how planes and dimensions relate to each other.” That’s an amazingly convoluted way of admitting that you don’t understand something without suffering the indignity of actually saying “I don’t understand this”.
Where Icke is able to offer an explanation of a concept, it’s only the most simplistic and basic and misappropriated possible variant of that concept. For instance, he talks up reincarnation and karma a lot, but clearly doesn’t have that much more understanding of the spiritual traditions they were appropriated from than any other New Age hippy whose only exposure to them has been from other New Age hippies. He makes the claim, which I think might qualify as the first conspiracy theory he commits to paper, that reincarnation used to be a major feature of early Christianity but was suppressed as part of a conspiracy by the Byzantine Empress Theodora and Emperor Justinian to gain great spiritual power over others. (In doing so he characterises Origen as believing in reincarnation, when he didn’t.) Interestingly, Icke’s history of reincarnations include a stint in the Knights Templar – presented as a basically benign group here but given a much more sinister treatment in his later conspiracy-oriented works.
In his glib treatment of the concept of reincarnation he comes up with some absolutely hurtful and insensitive statements, like claiming that disabled people incarnate that way in order to teach others how to love or that babies who die in infancy of cot death do so because they only needed a brief birth experience and some experiences as a newborn baby in order to move on to the next spiritual level. (He wouldn’t be the last footballer to clumsily mangle reincarnation-based beliefs into something weirdly ableist – Glenn Hoddle would lose his job as England manager over similar comments many years later.)
What strikes me about the book is how central Icke makes himself to all of it; even when he protests to the contrary, he’s clearly taken the idea that he has this special destiny to heart and badly wants the reader to believe it too. (At points I get the impression that some of Icke’s sources were getting annoyed with his egotism and having a bit of fun with him; at once point he’s told that he has three spirit guides always with him who all come from Uranus…) You can sort of see this from the cover of the book, which in keeping with four of the five books I’ll be covering in this first part of the series features his charming face gazing beatifically at the reader, but it goes beyond this.
For instance, over the course of the time period covered in the book Icke has a bunch of experiences which, sure, are quite eye-opening, are nonetheless common to many people who get into New Age stuff. He surely isn’t the first person that Betty Shine has given the whole “people from the spirit world are looking out for your interests” line to, after all, and channelled information is far from uncommon in New Age circles. However, Icke ascribes an overwhelming importance to these experiences, and to the fact that he, David Icke, has had those experiences – more so, even, than other people undertaking similar spiritual and philosophical meanderings, and to an extent which just doesn’t seem justified compared to how many people in similar circles have similar experiences but don’t use that to build an overwhelming sense of self-importance on.
Your typical person getting deep into a New Age phase might, for instance, start getting into the whole “11 is an important number” thing, and then when something happens and they spot that it happened at 11:11 or involved 11 people or otherwise has that connection they might ascribe some higher spiritual purpose to it, and they might even come to the conclusion that this is a message to them from an outside source. It feels like had Icke undergone the same experience at the time of writing this book, he would have come to the conclusion that his personal 11:11 experience was the most important thing to have ever happened.
For example, he recounts visiting a psychic specialising in teasing out details of people’s past lives, and recounts this as though the fact that she cited some past lives for him was somehow amazing and special when this is a professional service she offered and she probably did it for dozens of people every month. He says “Over the months I was able to piece together the basic structure within we all live”, as though nobody else had pieced together that cosmological model before, but the model he outlines is an absolutely bog standard mashup of New Age concepts, much of which was likely spoonfed to him by his various contacts, raising the question of why on Earth the Ascended Masters of the spirit world needed Icke to rehash these concepts which had already been getting a bit stale in the 1970s.
He covers himself somewhat by claiming that he pieced together his cosmology in part from direct communications from spirit entities, in part from books that were later confirmed by spirit entities as being genuine – but there’s nothing in the relevant chapter (The Grand Design) which introduces anything particularly new which couldn’t have been sourced from one book or another. You would think that Icke’s spirit guides would have given him something brand new to prove their credentials, but no. Even the spirit guides seem to have been borrowed by the psychics Icke consults from various other sources – for instance, one of his psychic informants gives him lots of messages from a “Rakorczy” who seems to be the “Rakoczi” that Alice Bailey makes much of in her theosophical works.
As far as those ideas go, much of them seem to be derived from Theosophy, though there’s also some talk about the procession of divine entities from the prime mover down to the creator of our universe down to the Solar Logos responsible for our Solar System to the spirit responsible for the Earth itself which reminds me in part of Gnostic and Neoplatonist ideas about the emanations from the Godhead (a term Icke uses). His account of the prehistory of Earth is highly based on theosophical Mu/Atlantis stories as featured in The Book of Dzyan, mashing up published New Age material with channelled material from mediums – including one who channelled an entity called Magnu, who so far as I can tell is named after a Hawkwind song.
Notably, his cosmogony has the Solar System made by entities called archons, and devas becoming associated with planetary bodies; the planet Lucifer’s ruling deva became corrupt, contributing to the spiritual fall of Earth, and sent Lucifer crashing into Earth, after which it became the Moon. Archons and the role of the Moon would become significant parts of Icke’s heavily revised cosmology in his later books, though in both cases with a somewhat tweaked role in keeping with his increasingly Gnostic worldview. (“Archon”, indeed, is a Gnostic term in and of itself.)
Icke embraces what would become to be known as the “pole shift” theory – the idea that Earth’s very axis was about to change, accompanied with massive seismic activity – and ties this in with the concept of ley lines, which he presents as a network of energy tying the Earth in to a vaster network encompassing all the planets in the universe (which are apparently by and large happy, given that Earth humans are apparently infamous for our negative and violent ways). Icke presents the coming wave of massive earthquakes as a hard reset of the Earth’s ley line system, a result of the old one we’ve broken being deactivated and a new one being turned on.
Naturally, Icke gives himself and his friends a central role in this, discussing “psychic questing”-type activities undertaken by him and a group of others in order to unclog the British ley line network. (They are helped out at points by friendly extraterrestrials.) It’s in the context of this which Icke meets Deborah Shaw, who would soon change her name to Mari Shawsun and currently works as an alternative health practitioner under the name Mari Shawsun-Mitchell.
By the time The Truth Vibrations was published, Mari would be playing an extremely prominent role in Icke’s life – more so than he outlines here. Icke and her would have commenced a sexual relationship, and when the book came out Icke, his wife Linda, their children and Mari would be living in a polyamorous family arrangement. Whilst it is entirely possible that this whole thing happened with Linda’s consent from the start, as I will outline later in this article the odds seem to be very much against that, and certainly here the mentions of Linda being a bit tired and needing rest whilst Icke goes on these global adventures to unravel the mystery of life, the universe and everything makes it feel like Linda got the short end of the stick, at least at this point on time. Knowing what came after certainly puts a new dimension on Icke’s willingness to drop everything and go visit Canada at the behest of Shaw.
Icke would later disclose much more about his sexual relationship with Mari, , but he doesn’t get into that here – instead, he discusses how they undertook a little tour of Native American sites, atoning for the sins of their First Nations past lives by, among other things, apologising for the hatred of whites they had expressed back in those incarnations. If you wanted to find the absolute apex of New Age cultural appropriation of Precolumbian cultures – and goodness knows, there’s been absolute masses of that over the years – you can call off the search: I found it right here, in the awful spectacle of these white people LARPing as Canadian First Nations people apologising to white people.
On the whole, The Truth Vibrations is an oddity even in Icke’s very eccentric bibliography. For those who are only aware of Icke’s conspiracy writing, any of his earlier, more spiritually-focused books will likely seem odd, but Truth Vibrations is strange even by the standards of those early works. Much of this comes from, as I explained above, the way that Icke knocked out this book whilst he was still in the middle of this spiritual journey and having all of these experiences, and well before he was actually well-versed enough in the material he was dealing with to sensibly talk about it.
Some of Icke’s early books have been disowned by him, but weirdly The Truth Vibrations hasn’t enjoyed that fate, and you can see within it a few echoes of ideas he would later deal with in subsequent books. Aside from the archon and Moon-related stuff I outlined earlier, it’s evident that Icke is laying the groundwork here to talk about some form of opposition to the work of planetary ascension; he refers to the energy network being polluted at points by “sexual rites”, implying that there must be people out there performing sexual rituals to some sort of end and who either aren’t aware of the damage they are doing or don’t care.
Similarly, one of the ideas Icke introduces here is the concept that when two opposed forces meet a third force emerges – a highly simplified and inaccurate representation of the idea of Hegelian dialectics, in which a thesis and its antithesis are brought together and a synthesis of the two is derived from them. He would later mangle Hegelianism even further to come up with his idea of “problem-reaction-solution”, which he would claim as being the key modus operandi of the global conspiracy.
Nonetheless, by and large The Truth Vibrations displays a heavy reliance on psychically-received information which Icke, whilst never denouncing, would at least play down in his later work, and also offers up a wide range of predictions, more or less all of which proved wrong. One prophecy of Icke’s made around this time which did come true was the one he made when he resigned from the Green Party, saying he was about to be at the centre of a tremendous amount of controversy.
This was an easy enough prediction to make, though, because a week after his resignation he, Linda, their daughter Kerry and Mari Shawsun appeared at a press conference in matching turquoise shell suits to announce the forthcoming publication of The Truth Vibrations and outline some of the theories within it. Icke’s public reputation would never be the same again; his infamous “Turquoise period” had begun.
Between the Books: Turquoise Tales and the Wogan Incident
At this press conference, and in subsequent media interviews to promote The Truth Vibrations, Icke would make a wide range of claims. He repeated various of the prophecies he made in the book, he was open about his past life experiences and energy work, he obliquely acknowledged that he was in a polyamorous relationship with Mari, he claimed that he and his family were all wearing those shellsuits because turquoise is a colour which attracts useful spiritual energies. What the press really seized on, however, was Icke’s repeated statements that he was a “Son of the Godhead” or part of the Godhead. This was widely misreported as him saying he was the “Son of God” – in other words, a full-on Messiah figure, as if he were Jesus Christ reborn.
The controversy Icke predicted explored more or less instantaneously. The book had emerged from an arm of a major publisher – the Aquarian Press, a division of HarperCollins – so just about anyone who wanted to check up on what Icke really believed could do so. Many didn’t bother and just accepted the “Son of God” conclusion that the press had jumped to; many of those who did check might have picked up the correct facts on that front, but would have been confronted with a story so absurd and so messily presented that they were hardly likely to come away thinking “Ah, Icke knows what he’s talking about after all” unless they were already well-disposed towards the fringes of the New Age before reading the book.
On top of that, Icke undertook a string of media appearances where he doubled down on his claims from the press conference. These were generally disastrous, particularly when Icke was faced with an interviewer willing to actually pick at his claims and take them apart rather than just mocking him. There was a Radio 1 interview with Nicky Campbell which you can still find on YouTube which was pretty awkward, but Icke’s most legendary appearance from this time period was on the Wogan talk show.
Terry Wogan was a beloved household name at the time, and his show had viewing figures big enough to guarantee that anyone who’d missed the news coverage of the press conference soon enough heard about what went down on the show, if they hadn’t watched it themselves. The interview, as it progressed, became decidedly ill-tempered; the audience openly ridiculed Icke and Wogan didn’t really do that much to stop them, laconically pointing out that they were laughing at Icke, not with him. Whilst it cannot be said that Wogan doesn’t give Icke a chance to make his case – the interview is 14 minutes long and Icke is talking for a good chunk of it – some have questioned whether it was cruel of Wogan to give Icke a platform to make himself look ridiculous in front of the country, and whether Wogan’s handling of the interview was fair.
Wogan himself would later regret the turn the segment took, and did a followup interview with Icke years later in which he took a much more balanced tone – he doesn’t wholly give Icke a free ride that time either, but he takes it with good grace when Icke gets a few good jabs of his own in and he does allow Icke to explain the profound effect the interview had on his life.
Icke regularly talks about the interview in his subsequent books, whenever he has reason to lay out his personal life story (and he regularly finds reason to do so). To be fair, he has excellent reason to. If the media controversy had been kicked off by the original press conference, the Wogan interview made it go nuclear. Icke became a nationwide figure of fun, was harassed in the street, and his family were similarly affected. A crowd showed up outside his home chanting for the Messiah in a mocking manner. This was clearly disgusting behaviour and beyond the pale, and people shouldn’t be subjected to such, particularly when they’ve just been expressing views which are merely eccentric rather than hateful. (I’d say that Icke has gone down a more hateful path in recent history, but at this point in time there was no sign of that.)
I do not, however, think that the reaction of the British public was solely and exclusively down to the nature of the ideas Icke was expressing. Yes, his New Age outlook on life would have been novel to many, but they were hardly without their adherents – after all, it was just such a network of New Age practitioners that had helped Icke make sense of things during the period described in The Truth Vibrations.
Instead, I think it was Icke’s bearing and his manner of delivery which attracted such a rich mixture of ridicule and condemnation at the time. Expecting the press and the public to make a fine distinction between “Son of the Godhead” and “Son of God” was foolishly optimistic, particularly since even if you concede that he means the former rather than the latter, he’s still declaring himself to have a special spiritual destiny and generally seems to have quite a self-centred view of the universe and his role in it.
Moreover, even if the religious ideas he was expressing had been entirely mainstream, the British public isn’t used to spirituality being declared in such a forceful and strident manner. There’s a certain arrogant swagger to his appearance on Wogan which gives way, as the interview progresses, to a weird blend of grumpy hostility and patronising know-it-all-ism directed at Wogan and the audience in general. On the whole, Icke’s media appearances at the time gave the impression of someone who was absolutely convinced that he was correct about more or less everything, and at the same time someone who expected people to believe what he said simply because he’d said it with confidence. That might fly when you are in a New Age echo chamber where everyone is eagerly “yes, and…”ing each other’s spiritual pronouncements, but it’s a disaster if you want to engage with a wider audience.
(For his part, Icke seems genuinely embarrassed about how he was carrying himself during that time. In later books he would claim that at the time he was coming down off an intense spiritual experience which he’d undergone in Peru, though having read the account of that he gives as part of In the Light of Experience it sounds to me like this was merely a major intensification of the experiences he’d already documented in The Truth Vibrations rather than a qualitatively different experience.)
On top of that, check out this shot from that infamous press conference:
That’s Icke in front, Mari Shawsun in back (in a bit of an I’m-exerting-power pose), Linda on the right and Icke’s daughter Kelly on the left. It’s clearly a posed photograph which they agreed to be in, rather than something snapped on the spur of the moment by a paparazzi. The turquoise shell suits which attracted so much comment look alarmingly like a uniform, albeit a then-fashionably sporty one, and as such I think observers at the time could be forgiven for jumping to the conclusion that Icke and his family had turned themselves into a tiny cult.
Icke has never gone full cult leader, but obviously I do not know whether he’s ever considered it. In the future, Linda and Kelly would remain lynchpins of his business operations; years after he and Linda eventually divorced, Linda and Kelly would still keep the office of Bridge of Love Publications (later David Icke Books) running, but I will get into that later. Mari Shawsun would, by the end of 1991, be out of the picture – but before that point she would exert a truly extraordinary influence over Icke’s thinking, as reflected in his next book, which would also come out through HarperCollins’ Aquarius Press imprint.
Love Changes Everything
This one is primarily based on channelled material. The Truth Vibrations relied on that sort of stuff a lot, but Love Changes Everything really goes in deep on the channelling – there’s no autobiographical throughline here, just a whole bunch of New Age theology as relayed by disembodied entities. In terms of the main spiritual sources, Icke identifies them as being Rakorczy as well as Jesus, who he identifies as the spirit specifically responsible for looking after the Earth. As far as the channelling goes, Icke mentions that various people channelled materials for the book, including himself, but that the majority of the material was channelled by Mari.
As such, this book represents the high water mark of Mari’s influence in Icke’s life. Given her later exile, this may explain why the book has been consigned to unhistory – Icke no longer refers to it, no longer sells it, and no longer lists it as one of his books. Another reason for that may be down to Icke changing his mind about lot of the stuff he says here. The book’s main agenda is to give us a history of life, the universe, and everything, with a focus on the last 12,000 years or so because that’s when Icke says the “fall of man” and our descent to the current lowly dimension we’re on happened. He leads off with a discussion of cosmology which introduces his first full explanation of what he claims is your real “self” – an energy being comprising a number of chakras, for whom the physical body is a mere disposable shell.
This subject had been glancingly referred to in The Truth Vibrations, but gets properly laid out here, and it’s one of the bits of Love Changes Everything which still pops up in his thinking here and there. Even in much later books, Icke almost always includes his explanation of the spirit a he puts forth this idea, often at the beginning. It’s almost like an indoctrination strategy; after all, if you can persuade someone to change their very conception of who they are on your say-so, then you can get them to accept pretty much anything else after that.
From there, Icke goes on to give an account of the creation of the universe which is essentially a rehashed version of the Gnostic/Neoplatonist idea of a series of emanations from the prime mover eventually giving rise to the physical universe, and then leads on into typical Theosophy-derived depictions of Mu and Atlantis as enlightened higher cultures which fell because they were about to cataclysmically drop down the cosmic frequency scale and the Earth Spirit decided to end their civilisations with a round of seismic activity (much the same as Icke was predicting was about to happen in the early 1990s) to prevent this.
Things get into what seems to me to be more novel territory when we get onto Arthur and Merlin, who according to Icke and his spiritual informants were the leaders of a party of refugees from the fall of Atlantis. Arthur and his companions must then contend with Lucifer, a rogue deva, who in tumbling down through the frequencies has ended up plotting to usurp the Godhead. Lucifer tosses the Moon at the Earth in order to break Earth’s connection to the Godhead, but Rakorski and allies are able to install a friendly planetary spirit inside the Moon and make it a link between Earth and the Godhead. (This stands in stark contrast to Icke’s later theories about the Moon, in which it is a relay station for malevolent mind control signals transmitted from Saturn.) Arthur and Merlin must also act to do a controlled shutdown of parts of the Earth’s energy network to stop Satan/Lucifer overloading it with negative energy; a hub of their efforts is at the Isle of Wight, which must have been very convenient for Icke’s research. (Lucky the prediction he’d leave the Isle soon turned out to be wrong, huh?)
Lucifer/Satan (Satan apparently being Lucifer’s lower self who had hijacked the totality of the entity) then spent a bunch of time plotting to disrupt the connections between people’s lower selves – the part that incarnates in the physical world – and the higher selves which remain in the spiritual realms. (Shades of the Golden Dawn/Thelema idea of the Holy Guardian Angel creep in here.) Apparently, when this happens the lower self stumbles about bereft of their connection to the higher self or knowledge of the life plan they’d worked out for this incarnation, invariably screwing up and racking up a heinous karmic debt. Akhenaten and Cleopatra were apparently special souls sent to try and fix things, but the Roman Empire (with the exception of Julius Caesar himself) was highly unspiritual and suppressed the spiritual majesty of Egypt.
(Never mind that Akhenaten’s Egypt and the Egypt ruled by Cleopatra were very different places, what with Cleopatra’s Ptolemaic dynasty having hailed originally from Greece – they were descended from Alexander the Great – and thus importing a fat heap of Hellenistic cultural influences which made it very easy for them and Rome to understand each other later. Never mind that Cleopatra took up with Mark Anthony after Caesar died and seemed more than happy to muck in when it came to Imperial politics.)
As Icke’s history sweeps into eras we have a broad and deep understanding of, he makes more and more statements that are just plain factually inaccurate. His version of the Jesus story – in which Jesus was born to a special family of reincarnated Atlanteans, Jesus, Mary, Gabriel and all the rest being part of that family – includes assertions like Herod not being a king (he totally was) and crucifixion basically being like being put in the stocks in medieval Europe and not actually a fatal means of execution except in Jesus’ case (nonsense), and Jesus was the only person who was actually nailed to a cross instead of simply being tied up there (demonstrably untrue).
Incidentally, Icke claims that Jesus was born at Giza to make use of certain energies; “This was Saturn” he says in the middle of the text, in a sentence which he wholly fails to integrate into the wider context of the paragraph but I think is intended to mean that Saturnian planetary influences were involved in the birth of Christ. If that’s so then that’s another major cosmological U-turn for him, because in his later work Saturn has a decidedly malevolent role, being the source of mind control transmissions relayed via the Moon in order to keep us in an artificial reality.
In the stories of Cleopatra and Jesus we see Icke further developing the ideas of powerful people and movements in history acting in a malevolent fashion to prevent the spiritual development of the masses, which is the fundamental foundation of his later conspiracy theory works. In fact, one of the points where Icke breaks from almost all Christian denominations is that he characterises Christ’s mission on Earth as a failure: Jesus was supposed to rebalance the energy network and failed, and that failure was down to the secular authorities opposing him.
One almost wonders whether Icke was on some level trying to play down the uniqueness of Jesus – whose title “Son of the Godhead” was also, according to Icke, shared by Joseph and numerous others – in order to make his own messianic posturing seem less weird in retrospect. After all, if Jesus wasn’t all that important, then Icke was being less presumptuous by comparing himself to him. In fact, Icke here says that although his channelled information has declared him a Son of the Godhead he will not accept this without further confirmation, though given that he’d been very ready to declare it at the press conference and on Wogan it was a bit late to be cautious about the subject.
Apparently one of the bad ideas introduced to humanity via Lucifer/Satan is exclusive romantic relationships. Whilst being pro-polyamory is no bad thing, saying that any form of exclusivity – whether in a monogamous or polyamorous context – is inherently bad strikes me as a big fat warning flag. Generally, any time anyone tells you that it is wrong or spiritually unhealthy for you to set boundaries in a relationship for your own personal peace of mind or wellbeing, that’s someone I greatly mistrust because it just sounds like they have an agenda. When it’s happening in the context of an existing marriage that has just been opened up I have additional concerns, especially if that opening-up process happened without the consent of the other party involved.
The history gets rather rushed as it comes up to the modern day, but the gist of it is that modern capitalism and industrial culture, quite aside from all the flaws which are more directly evident in it, are works of spiritual evil. The London Underground disrupted the spiritual energy network the Thames taps into, followers of Lucifer/Satan channel negative energy, and cosmologically speaking it’s all a bit Werewolf: the Apocalypse (a game which would come out in 1992 and which taps into enough New Age themes that I have to wonder whether some of the ideas here worked their way into it). Again, we don’t go deep into conspiracy theory at this point, but it feels like conspiracy theory is the next logical step if you carry this thinking through.
Towards the end of the book Icke talks about his own role in all this, and in particular the wild ride he went on around the time that The Truth Vibrations was released. He claims that from Spring to Autumn of 1991 he literally was not quite himself – that he was saying and doing things that the David Icke of before and after that period would not have contemplated, and it all kicked in during one of his visits to Canada to meet with Mari Shawsun (as she was calling herself by the publication of this book). (Once again, I am reminded of Philip K. Dick’s accounts of his 2-3-74 experience, an aspect of which included his conviction that another personality had somehow merged with his and was guiding his actions.) He also discusses how he and those around him (probably primarily himself and Mari, based on the accounts of such work in The Truth Vibrations) were working to re-engineer the Earth’s energy network, including tapping into Arthur’s nexus in the Isle of Wight.
Now, this comes shortly after a section describing how Arthur and Avola – a missing figure from Arthurian legend but apparently significant to it – had been sent back to Earth and were in physical bodies as of the time of writing in order to help fix the energy network. In particular, it is noted that though they’d have opportunities to exercise their free will in these incarnations, they’d volunteered to have their free will overridden at particular crucial moments to guarantee that their mission – to do what Jesus could not do – would succeed.
Icke’s account of his weird depersonalisation experience could be interpreted as a suspension of free will.
Was Icke, through this book, laying the groundwork towards revealing himself as being Arthur – with Mari as Avola? Given that one of his channelling buddies seems to have been Merlin, it feels like this must be a possibility.
Icke’s introduction to the book is dated November 1991, which presumably reflects when the book was completed. A month later, Mari would be exiled from Icke’s circles, but if the general public wanted to read Icke’s side of that particular story, they’d need to wait a little; it wouldn’t be until 1993 that Icke, having switched publisher in the meantime, brought out his next book.
In the Light of Experience
Published through Warner Books – and, to my knowledge, the last time one of Icke’s books was released via a big-name mainstream publisher – this autobiography came out in 1993. Circumstances had changed somewhat – for instance, Mari was now out of the picture – but Icke was largely still ploughing the same furrow as before. (His by now customary introductory spiel on the inner nature of the human soul now includes a fat dose of astrology, but is otherwise more or less the same as what had come before.)
In fact, Icke is very keen to go back to The Truth Vibrations and regurgitate bits of this here, generally cherry-picking from that book to put himself in the best light possible. He’s glad to mention his prediction in The Truth Vibrations of the Soviet Union breaking up, for instance, because a) it actually fucking happened, unlike a whole swathe of the stuff he was predicting back in 1990/1991 and b) it suits his predictions that all nations are going to dissolve and come together in a blissfully happy united world. (In the light of his later New World Order conspiracy-mongering, this is a bit jarring.)
The early phases of the book are a weird mix of grounded anecdotes and Icke’s attempts to shoehorn them into his New Age cosmology. For instance, a discussion of entirely mundane childhood incidents is interrupted momentarily by a discussion of the planetary influence of Saturn in his birth chart. (Wait, didn’t he mention that Jesus had some of that going on back in Love Changes Everything?) Icke’s account of his school days reveals little beyond the fact that he ascribes this really weird importance – both esoteric and mundane – to absolutely minor, trivial incidents, and that he thinks the cosmic forces of karma step in to intervene in his life in bizarrely petty ways.
For instance, at one point Icke claims his higher self stepped in to help him ace a spelling test simply to annoy a teacher who’d told him off. This anecdote I actually think is quite revelatory, though not in a way Icke necessarily intended. A minor annoyance which most people would have forgotten all about after leaving school remains a significant story from his youth, given extra importance by the suggestion that magical intervention allowed him to prevail over a hated authority figure. Taken at face value, it seems like the priorities of the higher spiritual powers of the universe are completely fucked, but on top of this the fact that Icke remembered the incident at all feels like he’s one of these people who hoards grievances and slights and remembers them always, which doesn’t fit the Bill and Ted “be excellent to each other” teachings he tries to promote.
It’s pretty evident that Icke considers his life since his spiritual awakening to be far more interesting than his life prior to it; over half the book is dedicated to what at the time of writing would have been about three years of his life. This is a bit of a shame, because the first two decades of his adult life actually seem to have been pretty interesting in their own right, and would be even if he’d never gone turquoise. Professional football, journalism, television and politics are interesting subjects one and all, and when he isn’t off on some astrological tangent Icke can talk about them engagingly.
As well as sprinkling the chapters with various amusing anecdotes, he’s even able to make a few solid points worth making. For instance, in discussing his journalism career, he very correctly notes that you actually need to understand a subject better if you are writing about it in a simple, easy to understand fashion than if you are writing in a complex, highly technical manner, because if you’re trying to explain a subject in plain English you can’t fall back on jargon to cover for the gaps in your knowledge. (That said, if this is a lesson he learned in journalism, he’d clearly forgotten it when writing The Truth Vibrations and Love Changes Everything.)
Of the pre-turquoise chapters, by far the most time is spent on his involvement in Green politics – presumably because these still overlapped with his interests a lot, and perhaps because he was entertaining the possibility of some sort of return to the Green Party. Despite resigning prior to the publication of The Truth Vibrations he’d been allowed to address the party’s 1992 conference – a decision which wasn’t without some controversy within the party at the time. The Greens only definitively denounced Icke after the publication of The Robots’ Rebellion, for reasons I will get into in the next article in this series – this despite that their miserable showing at the 1992 European Parliament elections (171,000 votes as opposed to 2.3 million in the 1989 election) could well have been driven in part by Icke making a national laughing stock of himself.
(Interestingly, in the chapter about his Green Party involvement Icke outlines his view of politics – which largely consists of the usual Green criticism of capitalism conducted with an eye to constant expansion as the only real goal. One of the things he says at that point is that the bizarre thing about the global capitalist system is that nobody is in overall control of it – it just controls all of us. Perhaps the most significant shift in his thinking subsequent to this autobiography is him changing his mind on this point and declaring that actually, the system was under control after all…)
In his chapters about his more conventional careers, a consistent pattern is evident – Icke will get into a field with a specific ambition in mind, do quite well at it, become disillusioned, and move on to something else. That being the case, being the prime mover in this little cottage industry he’s set up for himself is actually a smart move – he sets the parameters of his work, and when he gets tired of one direction he can shift direction accordingly (as he did once he got tired of the New Age guru thing and went full conspiracy theorist).
Icke doubles down on his claims that he wasn’t in full control of himself during his “turquoise period”, now claiming that he felt like he was hypnotised during it and that he doesn’t recognise himself in photos taken during that phase. I wonder whether he’s ever entertained the notion of claiming he was outright mind controlled in that span of time, or that he’d been kidnapped and temporarily replaced with an impostor out to discredit him.
As well as distancing himself from his post-Truth Vibrations persona, Icke is also distancing himself a bit from Love Changes Everything; as well as reiterating that a lot of it was sourced from Mari’s channelling, he also claims that the original version of the book included a lot of wishful thinking on Mari’s part, and that in late 1991 he had to sit down and do a comprehensive revision of it to make it fit for publication. He also backs away from the identification of Lucifer/Satan as a specific being, shifting towards depicting the source of conflict as a more intangible force – groundwork he would build on in The Robots’ Rebellion.
Ah yes, the matter of Mari. One thing that jumped out at me about this book is the way the chapter dealing with Mari being removed from the Icke family’s circle is called “The Scapegoat”. Now, admittedly all of the chapter titles are of the form “The (Thing)”, and in each case they can plausibly be read as referring to Icke himself… but still.
Icke’s account of his sexual relationship with Mari is characterised by a near-total abdication of responsibility for it occurring: apparently he was told via automatic writing that it should happen, and lo and behold she’d had similar messages, and they were also told that it had already occurred on the etheric level (the spiritual realm where shit happens before it happens in the physical world) so they might as well just go ahead and do it because it was now inevitable anyway. He is also completely vague on the timeline when it comes to when he discussed this with Linda, which is a strong sign to me that this did not start out as a considered, principled instance of ethical non-monogamy and was just flat out cheating at the start.
From there, Icke kicks off a rather nasty character assassination of Mari, wrapped up in New Agey talk about how all the strife between them was necessary to their spiritual evolution (with a fat dose of implying that Linda was actually more spiritually involved and engaged than Mari, and Mari needed to bear Icke’s daughter Rebecca in order to resolve some karmic stuff on her plate).
It should be noted that this isn’t a situation which leaves either side looking especially principled; after the breakup, Mari had told her story to the newspapers first. Given the vicious media pillorying that Icke and his family (including Shawsun) had endured, for Mari to then go to the newspapers when she must have known what they’d have made of her story was pretty vicious on her part, though she may well have been feeling wronged at the time (and the chequebooks of Fleet Street are very persuasive).
Even allowing for that, it’s still appalling to see Icke lashing out at Mari in this fashion. He frames her as being an emotionally volatile and jealous individual, who would lose her temper whenever he spent any time with Linda, and who numerous people warned him was trying to force out Linda or, after Mari ended up leaving, that she intended him harm.
Now, to be fair to Icke again, it is entirely possible that he and Linda were victimised and manipulated by Mari in all this. It’s clear that both of them were putting a lot of stock in Mari’s channelings, which could potentially have made them vulnerable to being nudged in particular directions by those messages. In addition, Icke reports that after exiting the Icke family circles Shawsun ended up becoming close to two New Age healers who had offered to help her with her childbirth, and alleges that she ended up attempting to exert a similar level of control over the two of them as she’d tried with the Icke family. Icke may be lying or misrepresenting that situation… except I suspect at this stage he badly needed the support of his New Age allies and wouldn’t have been making accusations unless he was sure anyone checking up with the healers in question got answers supporting his side of the story.
This revelation of an uglier side to Icke’s personality becomes heightened late in the book, when he describes a trip he took to Jerusalem in early 1993. Whilst he does do some of his old-fashioned energy working at sites like Qumran, Jerusalem itself leaves him depressed and angry, and the chapter – which he claims he mostly wrote during the trip himself – largely finds him lambasting organised religion and becoming openly hostile to Christianity in particular. This is perhaps the clearest prelude we’ve had of the ranty, grumpy Icke that would become a regular feature of his conspiracist writing.
Days of Decision
Produced in parallel with In the Light of Experience and released via Jon Carpenter Publishing, a small press run by a friend of Icke’s, this is largely redundant next to that book (and wholly redundant several times over next to Experience, Truth Vibrations, and Love Changes Everything). It’s essentially a bunch of extracts from Icke’s speeches from the time, printed in large type with thick margins and lots of illustrations, and it still doesn’t hit 100 pages.
This is in part intentional – it seems intended to be a really simple introduction to Icke’s ideas which you can read quickly. The problem is that when you reduce Icke’s philosophy and worldview of this time to its absolutely basic principles, what you get is a bunch of empty platitudes – and Icke’s previous books were simple enough that they really didn’t need further simplification.
It’s almost as though Icke and his supporters were under the impression that people were disagreeing with him because they didn’t understand what he was saying – not considering that it is simultaneously possible to entirely understand where Icke was coming from at this time and still think he was full of shit.
Heal the World
Shifting publisher yet again, Heal the World found Icke writing for New Age specialist press Gateway. This arrangement would also see them reprinting The Truth Vibrations as well as his next book, The Robots’ Rebellion.
Heal the World is another lightweight book – at one point Icke readily admits he knocked it out in a week. So far as I can tell, it exists solely because at one point it was predicted in a channelling that Icke would churn out five books in three years, and the deadline was coming soon. That said, compared to Days of Decision it does a much better job of pretending to have substance. In fact, it actually sets itself an ambitious agenda; its cover declares it a “Do-It-Yourself guide to personal and planetary transformation”.
Based on that you might expect an update of It Doesn’t Have To Be This Way, his ecological book, mashed up with something along the lines of Prometheus Rising – Robert Anton Wilson’s how-to guide for mucking about with your worldview and psychological state for personal enlightenment and lulz. Instead, in less than 200 pages of large text, thick margins, and regular full-page illustrations, Icke offloads a fat payload of platitudes.
If you are going to knock out a book in a week, it helps to have a formula you can follow – make each chapter an application of this formula, repeat it enough times, and soon enough your target page count is in sight. In the case of Heal the World, the formula goes something like this:
- Identify a particular common aspect of human behaviour or widely-held belief which has negative consequences for those who exhibit it, or for others, or both.
- Point out those negative consequences.
- Suggest that people might like to cease that behaviour or abandon that belief.
This is almost exactly as useless as telling someone with clinical depression that they should just cheer up and have a more positive outlook. It’s all very well diagnosing a problem, but – especially if you are offering what purports to be a guide to personal transformation – that’s only step one of the job, and telling people to just fix an aspect of their thinking just like that is profoundly unhelpful.
This is combined with an increasingly strongly-worded distaste for organised religion, something which had been emerging in Icke’s writing so far but suddenly becomes much more vehement here. The upshot of this is that if you tried to take the advice in this book it’d lead to you abandoning your previous religious outlook, adopting those aspects of Icke’s spirituality he explains here, and then frustrating yourself greatly at your inability to abandon aspects of human behaviour which Icke wants you to abandon but hasn’t given you the tools to abandon. When sheer force of will fails, that’s going to leave you all the more confused and desperate for answers – lucky that Icke is always willing to sell you more. I feel like if Icke ever went full cult leader, this book offers the impossible standard that residents of the Icke compound will be held to and punished for failing to achieve.
So, how about that healing the world? There’s very few pages spent on this subject, mostly because Icke cheats: you see, because we are all one consciousness and aspects of the Universe perceiving itself, if we fix ourselves then that will by itself already go a long way towards fixing the Earth. Of course, Icke doesn’t really have any ideas to offer about how we are to fix ourselves, but he at least puts some work here into pretending that he does; he doesn’t even pretend to offer serious, developed concepts on how to fix the world here.
That actually highlights a bit of a gap in Icke’s bibliography in general. You see, according to Icke there is actually a very important task to be done as part of the process of putting the world to rights – namely, tending to and repairing the Earth’s spiritual energy network. He very much believed in the necessity of this at the time of writing this book – he’d been talking about it consistently since The Truth Vibrations and he cites it as a major goal in the book that follows this, The Robots’ Rebellion.
Why, then, doesn’t Icke offer here or elsewhere a full guide to how you do this? Why doesn’t he give his readers the tools to get out there and engage with that work, or for that matter details on how to unlock the psychic powers and perceptive capabilities he claims are locked away within all of us? He does gloss over the subject, but he doesn’t actually have any substantial guidance to offer beyond “Just kind of follow your intuition and think nice thoughts”. There’s no guide to how to meditate here, for instance, nor is there any discussion of how to identify a site as being worth energising.
It’s almost like Icke is more interested in how David Icke, the psychic planetary healer, shoots all over the world fixing the energy network rather than wanting others to upstage him and his hand-picked psychic collaborators. You’d have thought that if he’d mobilised his followers to do the work he’d be able to sort out the network much faster – but then he wouldn’t be personally saving the world himself, as he seems to believe is his spiritual destiny.
All this plus the general thinness of this book and total absence of new ideas in Days of Decision suggests that in some respects Icke’s spiritual well had run dry – that he had no capacity to keep churning out material unless he looked outside of the usual New Age channels to find more grist for the mill. When we look at his next book, The Robots’ Rebellion, we’ll see that a brand new and somewhat troubling new ingredient enters into Icke’s writing – an ingredient which would rapidly become its central focus and, at last, be something he was widely known for outside of his readership beyond his Wogan appearance and the whole “Son of the Godhead”/turquoise tracksuit dealio.
Dare we put a name to that elusive, transformative something?
Dare we call it… conspiracy???