PRODUCTIVITY COMMISSION PRESENTATION LAUNCESTON 9 DECEMBER 2019

Post Draft Submission from Victims of Psychiatrists (VOP) written by Initially NO.
Pre-Draft Submission from Victims of Psychiatrists (VOP) written by Initially NO

Productivity Commission's 'transcript' of Victims of Psychiatrists represented by Initially NO, in above video, p 89-94

Election day and no promises to abolish forced psychiatry

People doing what they can to keep up the protest, while working in a lovely little shop called The Painter & The Writer Gallery - 42 Main St Maldon, Victoria - in Australia. Or maybe it was just that the shop liked a picture of a protest on polling day, and they just stuck it in there out front, because it's art and they're an art shop and there's no need to hide a painting about the civil rights movement of the millennium.

Health Australia Party has not yet put into policy that they will abolish forced psychiatry in line with the UN CRPD, though, though have indicated that they will move towards this at the Federal election.

Thing is, forced psychiatry has to be abolished by each State. And Victoria, being the worst place in the world, per capita, for forced psychiatry, really should be the starting place.

To not say you'll abolish forced psychiatry, is really being anti-human rights. No one should abide by forced human experimentation, of the vile, cruel kind that psychiatry, in Victoria Australia consists of. You are not meant to be okay with forced human experimentation that kills and maims thousands of people in Victoria, Australia every year.

No one should abide by a government that promises a Royal Commission into Mental Health, then, sleazily adds that a psychiatrist will be chairing it. That's like having a CEO of Bank do a Royal Commission into banking, it's like having a CEO of an accused Church do a Royal Commission into Institutional Abuse. Churches colluded, it was proven, so did banks. They close ranks, they cover up, unless they're an ally to victims. And Patrick McGorry is DEFINITELY NOT in ANY WAY an ally to Victims of Psychiatrists. It's an utterly ridiculous, horrible thing, to have victims being represented and chaired by perpetrators and their coterie - but that's the nature of a country that has a regime of vile, cruel exploitation, such as Australia, Victoria does. They want to keep it running, cover it up to make it look like benevolent charity to those who haven't been violated by it, and deny any victim the right to speak out against it fully and be heard by the population.

People can, and do stand on the street and protest. People do refuse psychiatrists for years while being locked in a psychward. They can apply under to the UN under Special Procedures, to be release from arbitrary detention.

Make noise, be heard, in any way you can, is the only way this vile, cruel exploitation can be stopped.

Yes, there has been a precedent in the Supreme Court ofVictoria due to the courage of NJE & PBU, putting up a fight against forced electrocution, that had been rubber stamped by the Victorian Administrative Tribunal, they would not have been permitted to fight in the court, if they had not been part of the 10% subjected to forced psychiatry that were given access to Legal Aid. Which means 90% of people fight, then are violently and horribly electrocuted because they do not get any access to Legal Aid, at a Tribunal, or VCAT, let alone to challenge VCAT in the Supreme Court. But even with this precedent, and an admittance by ECTmachine makers that their product causes brain damage, even so, with this, ECT can still be forced on people in Victoria, Australia.

There is nothing to stop arbitrary detention and 24/7 torture under the Victorian Mental Health Act 2014 being increased once again from 10,000 forced orders in 2017, to however many more will tally in 2019.

The way the re-elected government talks about the Royal Commission into Mental Health, that is going to cost the tax-payer $13.5 million - isn't from the perspective of those who are being violated by psychiatrists, it's from the perspective of whitecoat greed and their politicians who have a vested interest in keeping on using people, as a pound of flesh, to be examined, injected and observed as live specimens, then written up to be published for vast sums of money.

Just as animals are violated in laboratories, so too are humans, under the vile cruel Mental Health Acts in each State/ Territory of Australia. 

Animal rights? Yes and - don't forget human rights, right here, in Victoria, Australia, or you might find one day, you're one of the millions being locked away arbitrarily and exploited in the most horrible fashion that nightmares are made of.

Think of the artists over time, attempting to speak through visuals when speaking got them into threats and strife -

• Francisco de Goya's fear of being thrown in a pit, where they put people who said too much about organised crime, corruption, and didn't paint royalty in the way they wanted to be painted, people who were honest about what was happening around them, to their neighbours, friends, family - were thrown  into pits and called 'mad' as they suffered the horrors of that; 
• Edvard Munch's 'The Scream' - fear he'd be put where his sister was put away for whatever it was she didn't obey. Perhaps she just didn't marry who she was told she had to. Perhaps she spoke out against a paedophile. Perhaps she just smiled or frown or expressed herself too much for some ugly jealous thug in power.

It is important that people don't let killing machines go on and on in their country ever increasing with attempts to control of the population by fear, torture, arbitrary detention and vilification of victims. Eugenics doctrine, that is the Mental Health legislation - it must be stopped, now, not later.

It is important that people recognise what is happening close to them, rather than in a country they haven't visited, where a picture of a child is being dangled to raise funds for the so-called charities that are causing starvation, disease, poisoning and all kinds of horror, causing, via their alliance with other companies that have very lucrative cruel agendas on their board room table. Force feeding  overseas and here with toxic rot is happening. It's horrific and all done in the name of benevolence.

And unless you know that, you think the charity is benevolent.

Changing legislation should not be about charity, that is asking for more funds, and nor should a Royal Commission be about spending more funds - it should be about recognising that it is never okay to exploit by force, never okay to legislate to violently exploit people to the point of maiming and killing them, then call that benevolence. It should be about hearing the people that have been violated more and more every time they attempted to speak out against the vile, corrupt perpetrators that are arbitrarily detaining and exploiting them most horribly. Society needs to recognise, that and so much more that victims of psychiatrists have to say.

At what point are people going to see the human rights movement of the millenium - to abolish this vile cruel forced human experimentation done under mental health legislation? At what point are they going to be horrified enough to stop the horror.

Think of - 

Garth Daniels. He was horribly abused in Victoria, under the re-elected Government, electrocuted 150 times, dosed up on horrifically large quantities of neuroleptics, tied to a bed for 69 days. He skipped to QLD and found the same government governing QLD.

Why is it that Garth is still not free from arbitrary detention & torture? Because he does not consent to take neuroleptics that are going to cause him cardio problems. He does not consent to having his physical abilities shut down, so he cannot physically do what he'd easily be capable of, when having those neuroleptics shoved into him.

Garth Daniels has fought for his freedom, had support to do this from his family (which most families don't do, they back-peddle and go along with authorities gone wrong and have their own flesh and blood been done in by the ugly whitecoats. Some will later claim they trusted the whitecoats more than their family member. Why? Why would you do that? Trust the people you know, unless you already know they're ugly whitecoats and want nothing to do with them.)

Family & friends can assist a person in arbitrary detention to apply to the UN CRPD committee under Special Procedures, to demand the government release the person they unlawfully are detaining and torturing.

Garth Daniels got an advocate through his father Bernard Daniels to put a request in to the Working Group on Arbitrary Detention. He has also given permission to release a video of him being abused by psychiatrists, after he said, 'I do not consent'. It should be enough, when a person verbally says they do not consent to have a product injected into them, it really should. No one should have some ugly whitecoat company's product forced on them.

This is Garth Daniels, being tortured like this repeatedly, in QLD as we type this blog. He did not consent to be harmed this way, he actively said: I DO NOT CONSENT

Please free Victorians & people in Queensland Australia from this vile, cruel corrupt governing force, that condemns people to a life of forced servitude, as a human laboratory specimens, with no reprieve, no mercy, a life condemned to a situation far worse than anything else in the world. Far worse, because no politician even dares speak out against it. And the Labour government of Victoria & Queensland enslaves people, by force, under their legislation, to be used in these horrifically violent human research studies they do, without consent.

AND

Protest? Me? In the street? In Queen Victoria?

Image (c) Initially NO

 

When, I was under my last treatment order, uncertain if I’d ever be able to get off it, placed on a depot injection that left me no possibility of not having the neuroleptics doing their damage to me, during that time, I felt like I was awaiting execution, or rather I was being executed slowly, painfully, every day as the neuroleptics mangled, bashed and eroded my ability, thinking and happiness with constant pain and numbing of physical movement and intellect, uglifying, stupefying – destroying me.

 

Image (c) Initially NO

Sensibly exposing the abuse

Remembering a time

I couldn’t talk about

How psychiatry had harmed me,

Lest someone think that I was ill,

Because I was accusing ‘health providers’,

Of abusing me.

So my mind, in confusion, and overwhelming

Grief at their outrageous denial, took a parallel path

And said some things

That were symbolic of what

Had happened to me,

Hoping that would be understood better.

But those things weren’t. Anything I said,

Got me put in the hands of my abusers.

It did take longer to be abducted, though,

When I didn’t mention psychiatry,

People didn’t immediately assume I was psychiatry’s lab-human

And needed to be returned to their laboratory.

I knew the sort of person I shouldn’t talk to, by then,

But understanding was still absent then, in pretty much everyone,

To my courtroom truths, as well as my poetic truths.

All paths to exposing the abuse were

Blocked into further threats to me,

That eventually got carried out.

That kind of pressure, that kind of denial,

It’s too much to handle and still be sensible.

 

 

(click here to purchase/ peruse image)

 

It’s about decency

It’s about decency, it’s about awareness of the horror that happened, is happening, won’t stop happening until people do something.

Don’t be an a-hole and deny that the psychiatric regime is abuse, is torture to those who have to suffer it and that this must be stopped. Wake up out of your precious little dream that medicine is ‘good’ and ‘healthy’ and that people suffering trauma reactions to various awful things that have happened in their life, are the ones who are ‘sick.’

If you feel sick in the stomach after you see a puppy kicked, you’re not ‘sick’, you’re responding naturally. If someone then says you’re demented for feeling that way, you don’t have validation for your gut reaction to an ugly circumstance.

Think about that next time you utter the term ‘psychosomatic’ and ‘schizophrenia’ and ‘mental illness’. Think about empathy and how that works on the body and how people do react to awful circumstances. Think about things that are repeated traumas that are denied validation. Attempting to speak about such things, after years of being disallowed communication of ‘embarrassing’ violence against you, that accused you of being in the wrong.

Yes, I understand you don’t want to feel sick in the stomach for all the people in Australia that have been abused by psychiatry and are currently being abused, but you might have to, to connect with your authentic empathic self again, after years of denying the truth for fear of being ostracised. To go down a more ‘friendly street’ in life.

In a recent comment I made about the mental-illnessing of Silvia Plath, the following dialogue happened:

Initially NO (December 10, 2013): Until 1973, you had a 'mental illness' if you were homosexual and were treated with the same 'medication' that you wouldn't give to a Zoo animal regularly without damaging your exhibit. Strange that J--- thinks this 'medication' is healthy. Haven't read enough J---, that's your problem. If you don't read, or at least watch some vids by psych survivors your writing will be tossed off the shelf along with Helen Garner's 'Bach's Children's Hour' (which incited hate crimes against children with learning difficulties). If your writing incites further torture of people in crisis, then I'd put you in the same category in a future where such torture is illegal to forcefully conduct. Psychiatrists don't talk J---, they're doctors. Doctors have very bad people skills and Plath wrote about how bad they were at talking, in her time. And, for your info A--- here's a recent Judge's finding: http://m.stuff.co.nz/national/health/9490650/ACC-to-rethink-abuse-link

J---e’s response was to flag my commentary and delete it, then send me a personal message, blocking my ability to reply; she didn’t want to feel sick about the support she’d given the psychiatric regime of terror already: ‘Please don't post your opinions, slander on my page. You know nothing about me and come across as angry and vindictive. You might be more effective by promoting your views in a less aggressive way or working with people who need a willing ear. Think about how you respond as a feeling person when confronted with anger, vitriole, slander and hatred. Listening quietly, patiently without judgement is a rare skill indeed.’

Quite apart from an ‘award winning’ writer not knowing how to spell, I really don’t think backwater, out of date prejudice should be given accolades.

Certainly not a poet I’d want to book.

J--- also had an argument that psychiatric abuse helped stop the suicide rate, and used her dead friend as evidence that psychiatry and mental-illnessing was valid.

‘Australia spent over $6.3 billion on mental health-related services in 2009–10… We spent all this money, and the more we spent the more our suicide rates increased.  More people died – alone and in anguish – by their own hands.  More families were destroyed and left to live with unimaginable pain and grief.  Less money was available to address the real causes of emotional distress and suicide.’

Psychiatric interventions make the suicide rate worse, not better

http://www.madinamerica.com/2014/01/37639/

Let’s walk down a more friendly street and stop the denial, if the people being harmed make you feel sick in the stomach, it’s because you have empathy and don’t want the abuse to continue. Do not misdirect your anger about this abuse at the people suffering because they’re an easier target of blame than the powers of psychiatry. Think of your own healthy conscience in years to come.

And, if you’re a writer, READ something more than pickled prejudice, or your writing will go out of date as quickly as cheese.

Please sign this petition to stop psychiatric abuse in Australia: http://www.outrageinaustralia.com

My society is suicidal

My society is suicidal

It drinks itself stupid

Bashes its lungs with cigarettes.

It wants to die, not I.

Society is pashing itself

As it’s bashing itself.

Society holds itself down

And calls its lover a bitch.

Society is mostly misogynist.

Society is a prostitute

That doesn’t use protection

Writhing in pain with infections

While aborting its 1000^th foetus.

I don’t have any choice

About my society invading me.

It is an animal that cannot

Be kept at bay by Buddhism,

Pesticides, or cleaning.

Society needs beauty

But it thinks it can manufacture it,

It thinks it can mine it,

It thinks it can buy it.

Society wants to be strong,

But it also wants to be ill

In hope it can get compassion.

Society wants to fuck me up the arse

And force me to say I enjoy it,

But I tell it to go away.

My society doesn’t like hard work,

It would rather swallow tranquilisers

And be a laboratory animal.

I want to be healthy

But my society forces unhealthy things into me

Falsely labelling them as ‘good’ and ‘helpful’,

‘Healthy’ and ‘necessary.’

I am very angry at my society

Because it has violated my body repeatedly,

Then accused me of being insane and complaining.

My society is insane. It eats chemical shit that isn’t food

Then expects me to do the same.

My society is hypnotised by propaganda.

I am at war with its regime.

My society wants to die,

Obviously, it is suicidal

And in need of some kind of help.

My society evicts those who ask for help

And asks other societies to do something

About people who ask for help.

My society thinks people who ask for help

With shelter and food are a problem,

Even when they say they’ll work hard

To repay those who help them.

My society fucks me up

Then tells me I’m wrong and weird.

My society is a slave-driver of mothers,

My society rapes its own children.

That’s my society.

Chewing gum on the pavement

And a gun stuck in my face.

I should probably try to get

To a safer place than this,

Where my ideas exist more

Than this place where society is its own looming death.

My society bashes me, but rarely pashes me.

It says that that is my fault, not society’s,

That I need to be more commercial,

More like others who’ve been successful,

That there’s nothing new worth anything,

Because society prefers the retro, the proven,

The tried and true, antique glossed anew.

Society says I shouldn’t resent it,

Yet it resents giving

Odd people like me anything.

Society says that I’m bludging.

Society says I suck it dry.

Society, it seems would rather

That I die, than pay a living wage for my work

In developing ways to help it.

Society says that I’m a radical

That needs to be ruled out.

Society doesn’t even know me,

But it knows it doesn’t like me.

Society won’t give me a change,

It’d rather play reruns

Of Woody Allen movies

And upset survivors of child abuse.

My society won’t even acknowledge

That I’ve been harmed by psychiatry,

Let alone allow me to say that

On a public broadcast program.

My society is very interested in money,

But it makes suicidal investments

In ideas that have had their day.

My society has an unhealthy interest

In aiding and abetting crime,

Then glorifying it in books and movies.

My society wants to endanger itself.

My society is a sadomasochist.

My society wants to suicide.

My society doesn’t include me

In its pact, because

I don’t want to live fast

Die young and make an etcetera.

My society says I won’t be successful

If I don’t follow in its footsteps.

But I don’t want to follow dysfunction,

So I go in a different direction.

My society wants me to pay entry

Then it bars me from entering.

My society says I’m a jealous gripe

And an ego-head better off dead.

My society would not mourn me

If I were to suicide.

My society would want to dissect my brain

For evidence of a faulty gene,

Faulty neurotransmitters, or something like what

They found in the tortured rats

Who society induced my ‘condition’ in.

My society has one condition

And many exceptions to that rule,

With loopholes to get past a fool

Like me who sticks to laws as rule,

Except when they violate the rights

Of people they’re claiming to protect.

My society likes to pick on me,

Then it eats its own snot

And demands I eat it too!

My society thinks I should take

The blame for my ‘illness’

But I don’t think I have an illness,

Rather it’s society’s ills that

Cause me unrest and put me in crisis.

Society has its regime

And I am revolting to it.

I want to love my society

But it pushes me away

Saying, ‘You’d better not stalk me.’

I’d like society to be more

Interested in what I think and say,

But society wants to remain ignorant,

Turns its back and ignores me.

It says I don’t try hard enough

To get its attention.

Then it says I try too hard

And that makes me annoying.

Society won’t let me win,

Society thinks I’m nothing but

A bad impression

My society wants to kill me,

So I don’t make it think about its problems,

About it being wrong, thereby inducing suicidal thoughts.

Yet my society claims to be peace-keeping.

Society says it doesn’t want to die out,

Yet it smokes purposefully

To slowly kill itself.

My society is addicted to causing

Its own death, but it says it doesn’t want

To suicide, not really, it just does sort of likes harming itself.

My society wants to fuck me up

So it feels better about itself,

So I’m as fucked up as it is.

My society wants to scream for its mother,

Then blame her for birthing it.

My society wants to yell at me

And is annoyed when I don’t yell,

Accuses me of making it look like a bully,

When really it’s a suicidal wreck I should

Have more empathy for, apparently.

Then my society finds another reason

To punch me in the nose

When I say I don’t like drugs.

My society thinks drugs are cool.

My society thinks drugs are pop culture

And that popping pills equates to pop art,

As if swallowing is an artistic act.

My society is heavily drugged

 

But I don’t know how good my society is,

I take it for granted,

I’m spoilt rotten.

I don’t know how bad some societies are!

 

I don’t want to think about

How I’m fucked up the arse I am

By my society anymore.

I want society to stop perpetuating

Its abuse of me when it lords over me.

My society thinks it’s regal

And that I’m up myself.

My society thinks it is a cut above the rest.

My society likes to be a gangster’s gun

Shooting into a crowd.

I think my society is aiming at me,

But it doesn’t even know me,

Or want to know what I’ve done,

Where I’ve been and what I’m up to.

My society turns the gun on itself

And threatens suicide

If I don’t follow its command.

 

But I don’t know how good my society is,

I take it for granted,

I’m spoilt rotten.

I don’t know how bad some societies are!

 

My society wants to be Helen of Troy,

Then complains about the attention

That it sought out, when it advertised

Itself as ‘The face that launches a thousand ships.’

My society is stale old theatre farts

That expects to get more funding.

My society tries to pretend

That it has never threatened me.

My society wants to say that I am a liar.

My society doesn’t know that it’s lying.

My society wants to die and go to Heaven,

It wants to escape the Hell of itself.

My society thinks it’s my superior.

My society enjoys substance abuse

And thinks I’m uncool not to do so,

That I should get with it and just try it

And realise it’s not as bad as I think,

That it’ll make me better, make me fit in.

My society won’t give me a role

Because I won’t smoke backstage with it.

My society is slowly killing itself

And expects me to join it.

My society says I should stop resenting it.

My society would like to kill itself

And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

 

But I don’t know how good my society is,

I take it for granted,

I’m spoilt rotten.

I don’t know how bad some societies are!

 

I’m laughing at my society.

I feel superior to my society.

My society is the delusional  underdog

That has to be cautious

And wary of its direction.

It’s the one that’s suicidal, not me.

My society once tried to accuse me

Of things that it had done,

But I’m no longer under its thumb

And if it expects me to play dumb

While it talks rubbish,

It’ll soon learn to stop

Digging its own grave.

I know society is suicidal,

But it should at least behave

Civilly to those who are

Trying to help it through its crisis.

But my society isn’t happy,

It wants to dye its hair

Until the hair snaps off at the roots.

My society hates its own scent and wants to hide its smell

By putting toxic chemicals under its arm pits

That give allergies and asthma attacks.

My society doesn’t like anything natural,

Wants to remove all its body hair so it

Feels like newborn baby skin.

My society thinks I’m weird

To not want to feel like a baby.

 

But I don’t know how good my society is,

I take it for granted,

I’m spoilt rotten.

I don’t know how bad some societies are!

 

It is hard when your society

Has done something horrible

To you and they still

Want to argue that it’s justified.

It’s hard to love your people

That went along with your society.

It’s really hard to love them totally.

I mean, you can’t, can you?

Not without lying to yourself

That they will back you up

If you were attacked again,

Which they won’t

And you know that.

But you have to love them,

Because they’re your family,

They’re your society

And that abuse that they ignored

Was too widely condoned

By even people you wanted to be friends with.

It’s hard that, looking at them

And what they’ve done by condoning,

Ignoring, or being too frightened to speak up against.

My society is so guilty,

It’s horrible, so horrible.

They’d rather have the abuses continue

Than admit to their wrong doings.

I so want to love my society,

But it’s hard, knowing

The horrible things they’ve done.

I look in the face of my society

And see that enemy lurking.

It’s scary that it’s there

In something I’d otherwise

Want to praise and adore.

It’s a shock to realise

That my society is so against me.

That it thinks I should be tortured.

It is scary when I hear of it being agreed upon

On radio, documented on television

And proliferated in books.

My body ices in fear,

That’s what my society does to me.

Scary don’t you think,

The way my society wants to kill itself?

 

But I don’t know how good my society is,

I take it for granted,

I’m spoilt rotten.

I don’t know how bad some societies are!

 

Nay, it is very, very scary that my society

Has swallowed propaganda for so long.

It bloats with its fill

Unable to think of possibility

That challenges the horror,

Unable to think of the horror,

For what it actually is.

Subdued and hypnotised,

My society heil psychiatry

And call for more screenings of youth,

More tests of youths and marching orders,

To find anomalies in them and root them out,

Force on them sterilising pills so they won’t breed,

And won’t be able to complain because they’re so tranquilised.

My society wants to become a race,

A supreme race of psychiatrists.

My society knows no one wants to protest against

What can be diagnose and dehumanise them

And make them out to be a potential criminal

That must be monitored and managed

And is unfit to be heard

In the clairvoyant psych court

That aims to prove a future violation

That a person might just commit.

In my society, no one wants that life sentence,

Which my society’s superstitious inflict,

When they back up psychiatry

With their supremacist’s law.

Strangely, most abide by society’s superstitious.

See, my society wants mind control, like Jonestown,

Heaven’s Gate and Solar Temple.

My society wants people who will,

Do as they are ordered and die on command.

My society wants to die under its own control,

Ordering itself into oblivion of following its following.

 

But I don’t know how good my society is,

I take it for granted,

I’m spoilt rotten.

I don’t know how bad some societies are!

 

I have a major beef with my society.

For over forty years my society has been

Arguing against what I do,

Trying to get me to sign its suicide pact.

Now I’m finally taking issue

And telling my society that I’ve had enough

Of its polluting fashions

It’s been policing me with.

I’ve had enough of its attempts

To make me feel small.

I’ve had enough of its thick

Doorless brick walls!

But society is the one with the gun

And if it points that thing at me

I guess I’ll want to save my life

By doing exactly as I am told.

Society would like to live

Without ever having to suffer,

But it thinks it needs to cause

Suffering to stop suffering.

My society is an abusive relationship

That I can’t get out of.

My society wants to use me,

Then treat me like a dirty tissue.

My society is the cross between

A baby, a stationary motor car

And a domestic outburst.

My society isn’t going to exist anymore,

As it once did. It will evolve eventually,

When people stop think that society's suicidal urges

Are something to be venerated and followed.

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