Isaac Asimov Was A Hypnotist
Have you ever read the Foundation series by Isaac Asimov?
Stellar work, not just for its vision of the future, but for the way Asimov described new technology and worlds. You’d think Golan Trevize was using an iPad the first time he synced with his ship’s computer. That was Asimov for you—he could bridge the gap between what we knew and what we never experienced so seamlessly (as if it was something we had known all our lives).
Some things of course are impossible in Asimov’s world. But he never let us feel that way. He kept a spell on us from beginning to end.
I remember especially the first time I read about the Mule; the way he controlled people’s minds. Never read anything like it before. He was a force of nature in the book (and as far as literary characters go). Like Sherlock Holmes coming onto the scene, igniting people’s literary imaginations.
See the Mule didn’t just make slaves out of men. He controlled people by tinkering with their emotions. All their clarity of thought and awareness were still intact, but they way they felt changed. An enemy could become someone you admired. And a lover someone you hated.
In movies and TV shows, mind control always seemed to strip some aspect of your identity away. Make you into a simple, mute robot. Make you obey simple commands.
Not so with Asimov.
In his world, you could keep your identity, your memories, your skill. You could perform complex tasks. You could be fully aware you were being controlled. And you could not change the fact that you didn’t care about your slavery.
A fearful enemy.
Some time has passed since I’ve read his books. But Asimov’s writing has stuck with me and I’ve come to learn much about the nature of men since. I’ve learned about hypnosis and influence.
I know if you say the right words in the right way, you can tinker with a person’s emotional state (in very specific ways). An assertive command, a particular string of words can lead people down light and dark roads.
And I know Asimov was a master of this. In his writings with the Mule especially, you can see the imprint of a hypnotist’s work:
To me, men’s minds are dials, with pointers that indicate the prevailing emotion. It is a poor picture, but how else can I explain it? Slowly, I learned that I could reach into those minds and turn the pointer to the spot I wished, that I could nail it there forever. And then it took even longer to realize that others couldn’t.
An imaginary “dial” is sometimes used in hypnosis to adjust people’s emotions (like pain and pleasure). And it works surprisingly well (even if it sounds a little absurd).
It’s not so absurd after some reflection. If someone criticizes you, do you not feel shame and contempt? If someone doesn’t like you, do you not wonder why (with dread and anticipation)? And if a lover says they want to fuck you (with all their dirty, dirty words) do you not feel intoxicated with their love; their eros?
Hypnosis is no different—just more specific in cause and effect.
Unfortunately, I haven’t found any conclusive evidence saying Asimov was a trained hypnotist. No historical links, no references, no observations. But I also haven’t spent much time looking. Maybe there’s an anecdote somewhere out there, but it’s odd there’s not a single, common anecdote. You would think it’d be another one of those neat trivia facts people compile about famous authors.
Or maybe it’s just a peculiar oddity no one cares about.
People read about hypnosis and their eyes glaze over, because they can’t relate to it. But you should relate to it, if only because you’re human too.
The words you learn can be like a crucifix when used against you. And a bright sword and shield when used for you. We’re very much like computers without a firewall in that sense.
Looking back, I think about Isaac Asimov’s version of mind control—how unique and terrifying it was when I first read it.
And I can’t help but wonder—maybe it was so terrifying because in some sense it was also very real.
Stay wary.
Old Mr. Moskowitz, long since retired, was having trouble sleeping. Night after night, he lay awake and stared at the ceiling. His health was suffering visibly.
His son, who loved his father dearly, was much concerned. He tried everything…Nothing helped. The old man remained sleepless and grew steadily weaker.
And then the son read of a hypnotist in Chicago who specialized in cases of insomnia. He could hypnotize people into a natural sleep and plant a posthypnotic suggestion that would keep them sleeping every night. His fee was enormous but money was no object.
In no time, the son had the hypnotist flown in by a chartered plan and he did indeed make an impressive appearance.
…The hypnotist was introduced to the old man…
On and on he went, the son silent in the background, almost falling asleep himself.
And as the hypnotist spoke, old Mr. Moskowitz’s eyes did indeed slowly close, and his breathing grew deep and regular.
Isaac Asimov’s Treasury of Humor, 1971