A Very Personal Review of Vox Day’s JORDANETICS

This is less of a review and more of a reaction.

When I opened Vox Day’s Jordanetics last week, I was expecting something similar to what Vox has posted in his blog and uploaded in his YouTube livestreams: a fairly straightforward takedown of Jordan B Peterson and his views. The takedown would go a little bit too far (it’s a bit much for me to fathom going that hard at someone with an admitted mental illness, but then again I’m a girl and I don’t go hard at anyone), would probably make a few wisecracks about the all-meat diet, and would pull apart JPB’s books in a way that people couldn’t ignore.

What I did not expect was the stake to the heart.

But more on that in a bit. First, a look at Jordanetics: A Journey into the Mind of Humanity’s Greatest Thinker.

I particularly liked how the book was structured at the beginning—a mix of social proof, evidence, and reasoning. First we have an introduction from Milo Yiannopoulos, who has been personally lied about by Jordan “don’t say things that aren’t true” Peterson. Milo’s writing style is always a little abrasive, but it’s good to get a third angle on things.

Then, we have an introduction to how Vox got involved, in typical Vox style. There are a few parts of this book that are going to stick with me for quite some time, and Vox’s analysis of JBP handles citations and evidence is going to be one of those things. It’s one thing to make small errors or fail to understand statistics well (quite common among university faculty). It’s quite another thing to cite the complete opposite conclusion from what the authors wrote in a study. That is bending evidence into a pre-formed conclusion. It’s straight-up fraud.

This analysis is followed by a very long list of quotes pulled from YouTube comments, an analysis of like/dislike ratios, and a transcript of the Voxiversity video on JBP (let’s be real: the transcript doesn’t do the video justice—the comedic timing of the editing is superb). This part is highly skippable and mostly receipts. It’s somewhat equivalent to a grumpy dad saying to a group of rowdy kids, “I wasn’t going to come downstairs and break this up, but y’all wouldn’t stop so now I’m here.”

Vox acknowledges that people like myself, Owen Benjamin, and others feel “bewildered” or “tricked” at how we could be taken in by this guy. Even after knowing about his involvement with the Trilateral Commission, his judgement of the Brett Kavanaugh situation, and reading this book, part of me still likes some of JBP’s messages. It’s tough to sort through the lies while still holding onto appreciation for the small truths, such as his admonishment to “do it badly.” I set very high standards for myself, so to see myself “failing” in the first steps of a new venture is disheartening. I like having a touchstone that things still worth doing badly when you’re first getting started, even though I know there are many other ways to get that touchstone.

With that in mind, Vox then dismantles many anticipated objections to his arguments, from “JBP is a respected academic” to “How do I know that you aren’t the one lying about him?” I particularly liked the response to latter objection, because it illuminates quite a few other cultural battles that are going on at the moment.

With the (lengthy) preamble dispensed of, Vox proceeds to take apart each of the 12 rules while weaving together an argument of how, following an ancient pattern, JBP is another in a long line of false teachers. It is a line of argument that I was not expecting, especially from Vox. It is an argument that punched me in the face, and for reasons that had nothing to do with Jordan Peterson.

You see, I am drawn to gnosticism like a moth to a flame. A gnostic view of the world is one in which there is hidden knowledge, and that to find salvation one must find and uncover those secrets.

It’s not surprising that I’m drawn to this way of thinking. I am a seeker. I am intelligent and highly intuitive, someone who has always loved fairy tales and myths. I’m the type of person who is always aware that there is something that I do not know. I’m fairly emotionally obtuse, so I’m always learning new things about myself (uncovering hidden knowledge, you may say.)

You might be this type of person, too.

In grad school, I remember learning about the sophists, and how they used rhetoric to essentially “manifest” the reality they wanted. That type of thinking hasn’t gone away, and in fact flourishes today more than ever. I rely on the Jung-influenced MBTI in my interactions with people, and it’s been on my list for so very long to dive into Jung’s writings on archetype and the psyche. I am fascinated by persuasion and conspiracy theories and little known facts.

As a Christian, I’ve been careful to avoid the occult—but setting that personal boundary has not erased its allure.

Over the past year or so, I’ve started to notice that many of my main influences are very gnostic-based. I’ve started noticing patterns of thought repeating around me. Every once in a while, I would stop and think to myself “I really need to examine the origins of this.”

It would be useful to identify the gnostic influence in my life and in my thinking, but it would also be hard. So I ignored it.

Which brings us back to this book, and this particular passage, which is included in the chapter on rule 11:

I had a physical reaction to reading this. I am not kidding when I describe it as a punch in the face or a stake to the heart. Remember what I said about not actually having read Carl Jung’s works? This is why that’s a problem.

You see, the way to salvation is not through “integrating” evil through a “very complicated symbolic process.” The way to salvation is through Jesus Christ, and Him only. The narrow path.

To follow Christ, one must reject evil—not integrate it.

This revelation changed the landscape in my heart. Now, it is not merely an intellectual exercise to trace the influence of gnosticism in my mind, up to and including Jordan B Peterson. It is now a matter of right thinking, of the utmost Truth, to sort out the wheat from the tares.

This is not something I can ignore any longer. I need to sit down and do the work of sorting through what I’ve learned in my life, where it came from, and how it contributes to my intuitive “filter” of the world. I do not expect this work to be fun.

It is not often that I have this type of reaction to a book, let alone share it on my blog. I have no doubt that I will write more about my de-gnostificating journey here, and I hope that it will help you, dear reader, if you are anything like me.

Overall, Jordanetics is a worthwhile read, especially if you have enjoyed JBP in the past. I am thankful that I stayed away from his Biblical lectures, because I didn’t trust him to present the Bible truthfully.

Now I know why.

 

 

---

As with all of the Very Personal Review series, I’m no expert in this category. I can’t always connect a book with broad context or deep history, but I still like to share my experience and thoughts.