My dear Wormwood,

I don’t want to hear another sniveling complaint about your new assignment. You have nothing but your own incompetence to blame for that; after the last debacle with that internet pundit, you should be grateful that Low Command has not demoted you from Junior Tempter to serving in the Legionaries, possessing herds of swine and other grunt work. Not only do you deserve worse, but your whining about this new commission betrays a complete lack of imagination on your part.

Of course, Lower Management is aware that the human vermin in your territory attend a revolting celebration on the Enemy’s Day each week. You dolt! We have long since developed effective measures for neutralizing this sort of thing; have you read none of the Department of Cultural Affairs memos for the last five decades? Admittedly, the Enemy’s little dinner parties did historically give us some real trouble – but not since we developed the FEAST protocol for undermining the threat.

F is for Forgetfulness. The Enemy, in His infinite delusion, intends that the vermin shall be living stones of His “temple.” Yes, He desires that when they come to His hideous festivities, they shall form a sort of house for the gathering, made of their bodies and words. It is imperative that they forget this participatory mystical mumbo-jumbo as quickly as possible, and the best way to make them forget is to convince them that they are passive attendees at a Spectacle. Suggest to the humans that when they come to the Enemy’s house for one of these disgusting Dinners, they take seats at an entertainment venue, and that the show will start when the curtain rises. Encourage them to leave the lights on at full blast, as theaters do before a performance; make sure they engage in idle chatter and socializing in the pews right up to the moment the “performance” begins; fill their hands with tawdry and irrelevant bulletins and announcements that tie their attention to the mundane and financial side of things. This will place them in the perfect frame of mind, one of total amnesia about the reality at hand.

E is for Explaining. Now, had you landed one of those cushy assignments within the Warehouse Communion, your job would be simple – our special forces have been hard at work on these particular branches of the Enemy’s camp since the Great Awakening (one of Our Father Below’s more cunning campaigns!), and they have more or less secured the entire Enemy force in a sort of permanent Entertainment-Mentality. You, however, are working in the backwaters where they still use the Old Forms. There is great danger in letting humans repeat well-worn words in a formal and archaic mode, especially from memory!  The words begin to be transparent, and the little rodents start seeing the Enemy and His Friends behind the buzz and distraction of their ordinary, petty little world. This won’t do. The best way to disrupt such tricks of language is to use Explanation. Instead of simply engaging forthrightly in their beastly little “service,” make sure their master of ceremonies (look for the fellow up front, wearing a silly dress) takes pains to explain what they are doing, giving a rationale for each part and commenting on its significance. This will function precisely as though someone were to read all the stage directions aloud during the performance of a play- all suspension of disbelief would be instantly aborted before it could take hold! And that, my dear nephew, is one thing we cannot afford: Suspension of Disbelief is one of the Enemy’s oldest sophistries.

A is for Amplification. You might think that between Forgetfulness and Explaining, your job is all but done. Beware complacency, Wormwood! There is always a chance that one of the more single-minded ones (those who are approaching death or else too young to have a mortgage) will notice that something is amiss and begin the fatal process of Critical Observation. Here is where you capitalize on the creatures’ sensory dependence. Ever since our man Loudfart the Technical taught the little grubs how to amplify sound electronically, we have been steadily gaining ground in the fight for Total Distraction. Even the deplorable rubes in your territory are sophisticated enough to have installed a Sound System in their place of gathering; simply ensure that they have it turned up loud enough to distort the voices of lectors and preacher alike, and make doubly sure that their musical accompaniment is overwhelming sufficient to blot out the sound of any individual human voice. Drowning in a sea of static-ridden Amplification, they cannot concentrate inwardly for a moment. Always remember, Wormwood, how much our Father Below hates the sound of the pure human voice ever since the Enemy pulled That Stunt, which was a painful embarrassment to every self-respecting and high-minded spiritual being in the cosmos. Besides this, Hell has always richly subsidized all forms of noise expression. Ahh, my boy….You should have heard the Pandemonium Philharmonic last night at the season premiere – but I digress.

 S is for Symbolic Starvation.  Now let us move on to the more complex cases in the herd: there are always a handful of recalcitrant subjects who seem obsessed with “finding” the Enemy, probably because they are such socially maladapted losers – I refer, of course, to the poetic and intellectual temperaments. These are no challenge at all. First, the aesthete. Now and then, a human stumbles upon the Enemy’s coded messages – what they quaintly term “Beauty.” Next thing you know, these individuals become absorbed in actually reading the message, wondering Who left it, and seeking Him out. These obnoxious amateur cryptographers used to be thick on the ground, like roaches, but Mandatory Universal Standardized Education has all but eliminated the breed. The random genetic mutant who still exhibits such traits can be quickly neutralized simply by starving him out. Take care that the humans’ gathering place on the Enemy’s Day is completely bereft of imagery except the most abstract and non-representational. Architectural ornaments, especially those that let in light, should be eschewed. You should easily be able to convince your subjects this is necessary – they live in fear of being mistaken for certain other disfavored squadrons of the Enemy’s camp and secretly crave the approval of the Warehouse Communion. Your particular subjects have an unfortunate penchant for old music – it would be best to allow them nothing composed before the Year of Disgrace 1960, but if they must have “traditional” hymns, see that they gravitate toward the sentimental schmaltz of the 1800s. Anything earlier almost certainly bears traces of Enemy Messages within its form and lyrics. And don’t forget Amplification – even the most pernicious music can be rendered innocuous through focused use of the Sound System.

T is for Textysexytheoreticosemioticosmartypantsitis.   It’s a mouthful, isn’t it? The Infernal Academy has outdone itself with this new technique – the most effective way of hamstringing any overeducated subject in your territory who might be inclined to think his way through the muddle and discover your interference. The method is simple: these sorts of humans always read too much. The key is to keep them reading the right kind of book. When they become unsettled by the disruptions outlined above, plant in their minds the idea that they have seen through the unsophisticated nostalgia of their less gifted peers. Cultivate a polished indifference to plebian squabbling over “ritual” and “liturgy.” I would whisper the proper word adiaphora in their ears every night before bed and make sure they eat a steady diet of performative speech act theory, just enough to cultivate a sense that any controversy about the Enemy’s horrible little soirees is something far above the common man’s pay grade. These potential insurgents will be instantly transformed into harmless sacks of abstraction – and will be far too alienated from reality to participate in the thing they are so adept at analyzing. Textysexytheoreticosemioticosmartypantsitis –imagine what the state of the War would be now had we only put more into R&D during the 1500s. Alas.

So you see, Wormwood, there is work to be done—and all of it straightforward. Even a bungler like you can manage this job reasonably, I think. Even if one or two of the more decrepit casserole-grubbing biddies slip through your fingers, I am confident you can keep the rest of your assigned subjects well in hand and disrupt the Enemy’s plans right under His nose. I look forward hungrily to your next report.

Your affectionate uncle,

Screwtape