Apostolic Socialism & Kool-Aid: A Cocktail of Death

Given my taste in men, it should come as no surprise that I have been intrigued by the late, and great Reverend Jim Jones for a decent portion of the last...oh I don't know, thirteen years or so.

For here was a man so sinister, so deceptively cunning and yet so convincingly brilliant to the eyes of his devotees that he could very well have been a successful politician had he chosen a different path.

However his fate was not one determined by the hands of coincidence, nor out of some tragic and desperate attempt to remedy an accident. For on the 18th of November, 1978 when he was held personally responsible for the death of approximately 909 to 917 people, including 276 children - he had been waiting for it; he had been expecting it. And yet, for someone who had finally managed to achieve their life goal and dream, he was only able to enjoy his spoils for a few hours before shooting himself in the head.

What a cacophony. What a devastating tragedy. What absolute chaos and madness must have dwelt on the grounds of Guyana/Jonestown in those final hours before everyone was ordered to drink the cyanide-laced Kool Aid? What were their last words to each other before they embraced and lay themselves together on the ground that final time?

For the unsuspecting victims of the People's Temple, Guyana was intended to be a place of peace, set out in the tropical fields of South America. A place where they felt they could escape from the oppression and judgement of the United States and create a utopian-like paradise where everyone lived in harmony and love and where, most importantly, everyone could be safe.

Yet we all know how the story ends. Upon their landing at Jonestown, life was not quite what everyone had expected it to be. The living conditions were less than average, the tropical heat was often unbearable, there was a lack of privacy, no proper facilities and to make matters worse - the beloved Reverend was becoming increasingly erratic by the day.

In order to test out the loyalty of his followers, Jones had previously conducted "drills" where "potion" was served to the residents of Jonestown. Jones told them the potion was filled with poison and he wanted to see who would drink it with him. On those first few occasions, it was nothing more than water mixed with a flavour-enhancer - also known as Kool Aid.

The Sinister Minister

However, when the FBI, a concerned congressman and worried relatives of the residents of Jonestown had finally decided to visit the place, the Reverend knew that the next time for "potion" would be the last. Surrounded by guns and crossbows, approximately 917 people lined up (either willingly, or by force) to take one last drink before the very man who had promised them a better life.

And so there he sat, watching. Watching as children screamed in agony as the poison took a grip over their bodies and slowly killed them. Their mothers wailing and pleading, while drinking the noxious substance themselves; men and women trying to escape only to be chased down and brought back, or shot.

And all of this, for one man. What a mind. What a vision. He wanted to make a statement to the world, and a statement he did make. Not until September 11 2001 had America experienced a mass murder/suicide of that scale.

I have often listened to the recordings he made during the final hours and one thing in particular sticks out in my mind is the following sentence, 

"We didn't commit suicide. We committed an act of revolutionary suicide protesting the conditions of an inhumane world."