Milgram is almost always presented as a cautionary tale about external authority: the man in the lab coat, the danger of "just following orders," and the comforting fantasy that we would all belong to the minority who refuse to press the switch.
Look a little deeper, and the experiment stops being about external obedience at all. It becomes a blueprint of the human psyche.
Even if Freudβs triad of Superego, Ego, and Id is treated as outdated clinical jargon today, the three categories still work cleanly as functional abstractions. Map them onto Milgramβs laboratory, and the symmetry is exact:
The Experimenter is the Superego: the internalized voice of social conditioning, institutional rules, and inherited moral authority standing over your shoulder.
The Teacher is the Ego: the rationalizing mediator sitting at the console, convincing itself that compliance is necessary, polite, or simply the rules of the game.
The Learner is the Id: your raw impulses, instincts, and unfiltered nervous system strapped into the chair behind the wall.
On paper, that sounds like a neat psychological metaphor. In practice, there is nothing metaphorical about the voltage.
We really are shocking our Id every single day. Every time you override a genuine instinct, swallow a visceral boundary, or trigger a stress response to satisfy an internalized rule you never consciously chose, your Ego is pressing the lever on your own nervous system at the quiet suggestion of your Superego. You don't need a lab coat in the room when the lab coat was installed in your head before you were old enough to question it.
Milgram not only revealed some terrifying new vulnerability to outside dictators. He also built a physical stage to project the exact internal hierarchy we have been living inside since we were kids.
In Milgram's experiment, most teachers kept pressing the switch long after the learner's pleas stopped and silence set in. It makes you wonder how long we've been shocking our own id, and whether the voltage has been cranked so high for so long that we've gone completely numb to what we're doing to ourselves.
@deaflibertarian Yeah, I failed that experiment. My superego as the experimenter, ego as the teacher, id as the learner, and I still couldn't stop myself from pressing the button π
I didn't say there are only two ways, which you rightfully pointed out. I just used the two boundary extremes.
Iβm partial to Jacque Frescoβs Venus Project myself π€
People get trapped in surface labels, but mechanically every system is an angle between total flatness (communism) and total verticality (capitalism). Modern discourse, especially in the US, is so polarized that it treats those two limits like the only choices on the menu. My point is simply that at their extremes, both manifest as cancer.
I genuinely didn't know that Sorlock was a thing, thank you for that intro!
βFrom what I know about Warlocks, a core requirement is a binding pact: a metaphysical bargain where the mortal willingly agrees to specific terms in exchange for forbidden magic and eldritch knowledge.
βI can't seem to find Wanda making one in either the MCU or the comics. Otherwise, couldn't "patron" just be loosely applied to any mentor who taught her, any entity trying to use her as an unwilling vessel, or any cursed book she found lying around and read?
βWhere am I missing Wanda being a Warlock via a binding pact?
@Creativemelody1 Thumpers penetrate deep into the sand with heavy, rhythmic strokes. Harvesters just skim and tickle the surface at their intakes. If you were a worm, which one are you coming from - I mean for?
@secondcomingrjc@gullskept@NovaNova266079 Oh there are who knows how many setups to a "simulation." We can have something like, but not limited to:
Ever make a Sim of yourself? Build the avatar, hit play, and suddenly you're literally playing a version of yourself from "out there."
That explains why both stories run the exact same villain: a cold, calculating architect who splinters his soul to enforce control. One forces a fractured land to unite and break corrupted power; the other unites a fractured school to belong to a home worth saving. Both hinge on love vs. fear.