‘A Short Book About Ego… And The Remedy Of Meditation’ – An Extract

Introduction – The Machine And The ‘Horse Of The Apocalypse’

Today, Media Lens co-editor David Edwards is publishing his first solo book for 27 years, ‘A Short Book About Ego and the Remedy of Meditation’. It’s been a long time coming, in part explained by the fact that, next month, Media Lens enters its 25th year of existence.

Our experience over the last quarter of a century is nicely captured by a post on X pairing two dramatic covers from Time magazine. The first, from last week, features a poster of Iranian leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei with half of his face torn away, replaced by the words: ‘THE NEW MIDDLE EAST’. The second, from March 2003, shows a poster of Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein with half of his face erased by a whitewashing painter beside the words: ‘LIFE AFTER SADDAM’.

The same demonisation, the same reflexive warmongering, the same yearning for ‘regime change’ – Groundhog Day without the spiritual awakening.

On X, the journalist Neil Clark commented:

‘It is utterly depressing that 22 years after “Iraqi WMDs” we’re having exactly the same pro-war charade played out with only one letter changed- a “Q” changed for an “N”.’

If you’re lucky! Last week, the Independent’s World Affairs Editor Sam Kiley wrote:

‘Should America go back into the business of regime change – which failed horribly in Iran [sic] and Afghanistan and left both nations ruined, riddled with extremism…’

We commented:

‘Probably just us, but we think it’s significant and ugly that Sam Kiley and his editors made this small mistake…’

Kiley casually waved away our criticism:

‘No, it’s a typo. Thank you for spotting what I should have’

But it wasn’t just a typo. Kiley’s article included this Iraq war-style propaganda:

‘The gamble for the US is that the Iranian government will still harbour the dream of annihilating Israel and, unless it agrees to a 100 per cent intrusive inspection programme by nuclear experts 24/7, it can never be trusted not to clamber back onto a horse of the apocalypse.’

Is that really Iran’s ‘dream’? A 2014 Pentagon report appeared not to think so:

‘Iran’s military doctrine is defensive. It is designed to deter an attack, survive an initial strike, retaliate against an aggressor, and force a diplomatic solution to hostilities while avoiding any concessions that challenge its core interests.’

Noam Chomsky has often made the point:

‘I don’t think any serious strategic analyst – at least I’ve never seen one – thinks that there’s a threat that Iran might use a nuclear weapon. I mean, it would be total suicide.’

As for trust, Iran was fully complying with the 2015, Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action agreement (JCPOA) – it was Trump, who trashed the deal, who could not be trusted. Beyond Kiley’s fevered imagination, there is simply no evidence that Iran has ever been riding ‘a horse of the apocalypse’.

After the US attack on Iran’s nuclear facilities on 22 June, a section of the BBC’s live feed was titled: ‘How does the situation in Iran compare to events in Iraq?’ The question was put to World Affairs Editor John Simpson, who replied:

‘I think it is a different case.’

Simpson commented further but, remarkably, that was all he had to say in response to the headlined question.

There was more dark comedy when the BBC asked UK Foreign Secretary David Lammy if the US attack was legal? Lammy’s response:

‘We weren’t involved.’

Again, quite literally, that was Lammy’s only comment, repeated several times. It feels like yesterday when we last cited this quote from Laurel & Hardy in August 2003:

Mrs Hardy: ‘And how is Mrs Laurel?’

Stanley: ‘Oh, fine thank you.’

Mrs Hardy: ‘I’d love to meet her some time.’

Stanley: ‘Neither do I, too.’ (Laurel and Hardy, Chickens Come Home, 1931)

For a quarter of a century, we have documented the grim procession of Western wars and proxy wars in Serbia, Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya, Syria, Ukraine, Gaza, and now Iran. We have documented the systematic smearing of high-profile critics of these wars – the likes of Noam Chomsky, Edward Herman, John Pilger, Robert Fisk, Howard Zinn, Edward Snowden, Julian Assange and Jeremy Corbyn. Behind and above all of this, we have documented the devastation of the atmosphere and biosphere on which we depend for our very lives.

The clear picture that has emerged is of an unstoppable, military-industrial-media Machine that automatically selects for politicians, corporate executives and journalists willing to subordinate people and planet to profit. Anyone attempting anything else is targeted for elimination from the system, or destruction. Anyone who gets in the way – whether a rogue, honest journalist, or a Palestinian child struggling to survive – is fair game. The Machine prioritises profit above all ethical principles – even the most precious human qualities, like love and compassion, are threats to be overcome. This is the dystopian, nightmare reality we are facing.

Although the Machine is a self-regulating automaton operating according to its psychopathic internal ‘logic’, it is not in truth a machine at all. It is a conglomeration of human beings working together to make the Machine a de facto reality. Human beings are doing it to themselves.

It is no coincidence that this greed-driven, insatiable, merciless Machine closely resembles the insatiable, merciless human ego. The Machine is a political and economic system, but it is built on a profound psychological and spiritual sickness.

We must understand the ego – first, above all, in ourselves. If we can see through its illusions, we can unveil an effective antidote to its genocidal and biocidal Machine. The growing wasteland we see in the world around us is a manifestation of human hearts laid waste by ego. This is the rationale for writing, ‘A Short Book About Ego’, in a time of Perpetual War.

Chapter 1 – The Successful, Suffering And Righteous Egos

The human mind stands at the centre of a circle of mirrors.

The mirrors — parents, friends, lovers, teachers, strangers — constantly reflect images of who we are. We’re told we’re annoying, adorable, stupid, unlovable; that we’re a show-off, that we’re not academic, that we’ve got a nice voice, that we’re a fast runner, dance beautifully, and so on.

The reflections collect as a nebulous mass in which we perceive an indistinct outline of an individual, a personality, a self — ‘me’. This is the ego, the mind identifying itself with impressions from the outside world.

But how is this possible? How can we shape a solid sense of self out of a chaos of reflected impressions? The answer is that the mind has an astonishing capacity to identify with almost anything.

The body, of course, is ‘mine’ — if someone mocks my shape, colour or size, they mock ‘me’. But beliefs are also ‘mine’ — if someone attacks ‘my’ religion, ‘my’ politics, ‘my’ country’s flag, I may also react as if they had attacked ‘me’.

I identify with ‘my’ job. Who am I? I’m a writer, a doctor, a scientist, a plumber. In the morning, a businessman or woman puts on a suit which, for the ego, becomes a kind of second skin, a part of the self. It tells us we are an ‘executive’, perhaps a ‘manager’ or ‘managing director’; we are ‘white collar’ or ‘blue collar’.

Leaving the house, we put on a car — a metal suit, a metal skin. If we’re driving a Jaguar, we know we’re prowling near the top of the motoring food chain. We feel the power of the engine as our own, we share the status of the brand. We roar away from the Mini at the traffic lights with the same sense of superiority felt by the bodybuilder for the bespectacled nerd.

Arriving at our workplace, we take off our car and put on our office; our egos instantly absorbing any prestige associated with our job title, department, company brand, which all become part of the composite self. BBC journalist and former editor of the Independent newspaper, Andrew Marr, wrote:

‘To be a national newspaper editor is a grand thing. Even at the poor-mouse Independent, though I didn’t have a chauffeur, I was driven to and from work in a limousine, barking orders down my mobile phone. In the office, I was the commander.

‘Eyes swivelled when I arrived and people at least pretended to listen when I spoke. The Indy might be small, but she was mine.’ (Andrew Marr, ‘My Trade — A Short History of British Journalism’, Macmillan, 2004, pp.190–191; my emphasis)

Actually, ‘she’ was not just ‘mine’; ‘she’ was ‘me’.

Arriving home at the end of the day, we take off our office, car and suit, and put on our house or flat. Property is a crucial mirror reflecting our status back at us. An Englishman does not just view his home as his castle; he views his ‘castle’ as an extension of himself. Anyone visiting Propertied Man or Woman will find themselves in the presence of a well-appointed, detached or semi-detached ego; one that may be polite and generous, but which will be very much in charge of what happens in ‘my’ castle-suit, in ‘my’ house-skin. Comments of this kind are heard:

‘I won’t be spoken to like that in my own house.’

And:

‘Sorry — my house, my rules.’

In visiting other people, we take off our own property suit, shrink to human size and, in a sometimes dramatic and observable change, meekly defer to other Property People — especially towering, Downton Abbey-sized giants.

For more than 25 years when I visited my parents’ bungalow in Kent, I used to top up the water in their small, neglected goldfish pond. I’d pull out weeds, tighten the anti-heron netting, drop in some orange fish flakes. As old age took hold of my father, he became a mostly silent, owl-like presence perched on the end of the sofa looking for things to criticise. Once, in a dry spell, he noticed I’d reeled the hose out to give the pond a much-needed top-up. From the sofa, he looked at me severely as I entered the lounge:

‘Are you putting more water in the pond?

‘Yes.

‘Well, turn it off.

‘Why?

‘It costs me a lot of money.’

Taking a leaf from Gandhi’s satyagraha strategy of non-violent resistance, I replied:

‘No problem, I’m happy to pay for it. How much do you want?’

‘Twenty pounds!’

I quickly held out a twenty-pound note, which my father gruffly trousered and, as quickly, un-trousered following a humanitarian intervention from my mother. As I left the room, I heard him say:

‘That bugger defies me in my own house!’

The Incredible Shrinking Springsteen

It makes sense that a self composed of reflected opinions will be insecure, transient, a trembling mass of contradictions. No matter how ‘superior’ and exalted, the ego is always anxious. The circling mirrors may spin a splendid image of a ‘successful’ self, but it can never be more than an illusion. It is no more substantial than a rainbow; there is no solid ground on which to stand.

This is why even the most ‘famous’ and ‘successful’ among us are bewildered by the fact that they can be confident to the point of arrogance and yet haunted by self-doubt.

A striking example was provided when rock legend Bruce Springsteen described his reaction to former US President Barack Obama’s suggestion that they do a podcast together:

‘…my first thought was: ‘OK, I’m a high school graduate from Freehold, New Jersey, who plays the guitar … What’s wrong with this picture?’ My wife Patti said: “Are you insane?! Do it! People would love to hear your conversations!”‘ (Bruce Springsteen and Barack Obama, ‘Springsteen and Obama on friendship and fathers: “You have to turn your ghosts into ancestors”’, The Guardian, 23 October 2021)

Faced by the even more famous and powerful Obama, one of the most successful, highly respected rock ‘stars’ of our time shrank to the size of a lowly high-school student. Springsteen, himself known as ‘The Boss’, added of Obama:

‘He’ll go out of his way to make you feel comfortable, as he did for me so that I might have the confidence to sit across the table from him.’ (Ibid., my emphasis)

As this suggests, there is always somebody around the corner who is ‘superior’ in some way, who has even more attention credits. And while the world may have reflected ‘beautiful’, ‘talented’, ‘young’, ‘beloved’ back at us yesterday, what about today?

So the ego must forever seek out more positive reflections, more attention. Without them, the self-image starts to dissolve. As yesterday’s reflections fade, the feeling grows that we are becoming colourless, insubstantial. If this continues long enough, we start to feel like a ‘has-been’, a ghost, a ‘nobody’. It is a feeling highlighted, of course, by the presence of ‘somebodies’.

Wherever children are playing, we inevitably hear the ego’s mantra:

‘Look mummy! Look at me! Look daddy!’

We can never have enough attention and this quickly becomes the dominant theme of our lives.

We seek ‘fame’ but we’re actually seeking attention. We seek wealth but we’re seeking attention. We seek to ‘express ourselves’ on Twitter/X, Facebook, Instagram and TikTok, but we’re seeking attention. We seek political power but we’re seeking attention, attention, attention. We seek to ‘save the world’, but we’re seeking attention. We want our circle of mirrors to be packed with applauding admirers. We don’t much care about their motivation, or ours.

As we will see in Chapter 3, what we call ‘romantic love’ is often a two-way flood of ultra-positive reflections boosting self-image. ‘You’re so easy to talk to, I feel like I’ve known you all my life. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, I can’t stop thinking about you.’

When this flow of positive attention is suddenly reduced — or, worse, diverted towards someone else deemed even more ‘special’ — we are tortured.

When the torrent of parental attention lavished on a toddling girl suddenly diverts to a bouncing baby sibling, the girl’s emerging ego is bereft. For the rest of her life, she may give attention to her younger rival through gritted teeth, especially in the presence of her parents. Any good qualities he or she might have will become negatives in her mind precisely because they earn them yet more stolen attention! Deep into middle-age and beyond, they may forever be viewed as a selfish, attention-seeking little parasite of parental love…

David Edwards is co-editor of medialens.org and author of ‘A Short Book About Ego… and the Remedy of Meditation’, Mantra Books, available here. He is also the author of the forthcoming dystopian, Chomskyan, science fiction novel, ‘The Man With No Face’, to be published by Roundfire Books in 2026. Email: davidmedialens@gmail.com