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Father, Son and CIA
When Harvey Weinstein was a child, he watched in horror as his father sank further and further into depression and mental disease.
Years later, after himself becoming a psychiatrist, Weinstein was even more horrified to learn that his father's treatment at Montreal's prestigious Allan Memorial Institute constituted a savage regime of drug and shock therapies and mind control experiments. Lou Weinstein's mind had been systematically destroyed. Destroyed, increbibly, in service of diabolical research projects funded by the CIA and the Canadian governement.
Father, Son and CIA is Harvey Weinsteins painful but moving story of that discovery, and of his efforts to bring the CIA to account for the terrible consequences of its reckless experimentation.
Years later, after himself becoming a psychiatrist, Weinstein was even more horrified to learn that his father's treatment at Montreal's prestigious Allan Memorial Institute constituted a savage regime of drug and shock therapies and mind control experiments. Lou Weinstein's mind had been systematically destroyed. Destroyed, increbibly, in service of diabolical research projects funded by the CIA and the Canadian governement.
Father, Son and CIA is Harvey Weinsteins painful but moving story of that discovery, and of his efforts to bring the CIA to account for the terrible consequences of its reckless experimentation.
308 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1988
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
May 16, 2018
The lugubrious tentacles of Project MK-Ultra penetrated into upwardly-mobile Canadians’ bustling - and innocently unsuspecting - family lives in the 1950’s. And even into La Belle Province - as witness the grim history of the Duplessis Orphans.
Black Marks against our wilting innocence!
Chill fingers of yew
Clutch and cling...
Into the heartland of homogenized and pasteurized “normal” suburban backyards, with their steel charcoal barbecue tripods…
The inner ice storm of the Cold War was upon us. Alongside it came MK-Ultra. And we bore the full brunt of its ugly, repressive violence bravely: and silently, unknowingly even.
What could we do? The Big Boys were stockpiling Nukes like there was no end to it. Even today Ultra is not spoken of aloud here.
There was no escaping it in the fifties. Supermarkets and rock ‘n roll were at the exuberant tip of the Canadian Iceberg, but stretching its awful mass far beneath in the depths was brutality.
Like my friend Jim found out.
Jim and Molly lived down the street in our quiet tree-lined Canadian neighbourhood. They were a happily adjusted young couple stretching Jim’s paycheck with a little good humour to buy into a bit of the Good Life.
Until Jim got sick.
Very, very sick.
What happened?
Well, Neil Young said it all so well in the sixties:
Paranoia strikes deep
Into your heart it will creep;
Starts when you’re always afraid -
Step outta line, the Man comes
And takes you away.
Unfortunately, though, MK-ULTRA was by then a part of the Canadian and American psychiatric establishment.
As it was for Jim, so it was for the author of this fine hard-to-find exposé: it was the day when they took his Dad away.
And he would never return home to himself again.
O doom is dark and deeper than any Sea-Dingle.
And that day came to us -
There was No Exit.
***
I’ll only say one more thing:
Just be grateful for what you’ve got now, kids -
For better or for worse, we sweated blood for it.
Black Marks against our wilting innocence!
Chill fingers of yew
Clutch and cling...
Into the heartland of homogenized and pasteurized “normal” suburban backyards, with their steel charcoal barbecue tripods…
The inner ice storm of the Cold War was upon us. Alongside it came MK-Ultra. And we bore the full brunt of its ugly, repressive violence bravely: and silently, unknowingly even.
What could we do? The Big Boys were stockpiling Nukes like there was no end to it. Even today Ultra is not spoken of aloud here.
There was no escaping it in the fifties. Supermarkets and rock ‘n roll were at the exuberant tip of the Canadian Iceberg, but stretching its awful mass far beneath in the depths was brutality.
Like my friend Jim found out.
Jim and Molly lived down the street in our quiet tree-lined Canadian neighbourhood. They were a happily adjusted young couple stretching Jim’s paycheck with a little good humour to buy into a bit of the Good Life.
Until Jim got sick.
Very, very sick.
What happened?
Well, Neil Young said it all so well in the sixties:
Paranoia strikes deep
Into your heart it will creep;
Starts when you’re always afraid -
Step outta line, the Man comes
And takes you away.
Unfortunately, though, MK-ULTRA was by then a part of the Canadian and American psychiatric establishment.
As it was for Jim, so it was for the author of this fine hard-to-find exposé: it was the day when they took his Dad away.
And he would never return home to himself again.
O doom is dark and deeper than any Sea-Dingle.
And that day came to us -
There was No Exit.
***
I’ll only say one more thing:
Just be grateful for what you’ve got now, kids -
For better or for worse, we sweated blood for it.
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September 12, 2007a every good book to read&sinc
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews