Royal Rife, the Béchampian Heresy, and the Power of Forgetting

The suppression of Nikola Tesla sets the tone for the management of science in the twentieth century. It shows us that in the case of the production and transmission of electrical power, the science — ‘official’, public science, that is — went as far as the business model allowed, and no further. Tesla threatened to liberate energy supply from its monopolistic stranglehold, and a technological and scientific embargo was swiftly imposed by the money powers in order to protect the artificial scarcity on which oligarchy depends. Tesla was neutralised, and the safe, irrelevant Albert Einstein was promoted to fill the void, in an engineered scientific paradigm-shift. By subverting the scientific method, the new paradigm effectively constructed a simulation of science — in Tesla’s words, “a structure which has no relation to reality.” 

But was this an isolated case, or should we go further in reassessing the institutionalised science of the twentieth century as a managed enterprise: where else might we find the phenomenon of corporate interests driving out real science, leaving behind not a vacuum but a simulacrum — a business model — in its place? 

One answer to that question lies very close to home, very close, that is, to the lives of everybody living within the grand simulacrum we call Western industrial society. Three decades after the banks moved on Tesla, it all happened again, this time to the microscopist Royal Rife, who can justly be called the Tesla of microbiology. Rife, like Tesla, combined scientific insight with extraordinary skill in engineering. With Rife as with Tesla, new technology was suppressed, and with it a scientific paradigm, a vision of how things work in this creation.

With Rife the suppression seems to have been even more brutal, more open, less sophisticated. We do not see, for example, the same kind of perception-management back-up from Hollywood and the media. I’m not aware of any attempt to portray Rife as mad or his science as dangerous, or anything like that.  It seems that the system had grown more confident that it could act with impunity. They just smashed his company and his technology and let the wreckage lie. Within the medical profession, threats, bribery and the power of medical licensing dealt with the problem. Academics were scared off by a high-profile sacking, and a possible murder. 

As with Tesla, a world war — the second one — helped the public to forget. Rife’s case provides an even more miraculous example than Tesla’s of what Hitler called ‘the power of forgetting’. 

Before the First World War, the likes of Tesla and Alexanderson had been on the verge of ushering the world into a completely new technological era: Type 1 civilisation status, according to the Kardashev scale — that is, a civilisation able to harness all of the energy reaching its planet from its parent star.

Before the Second World War, Royal Rife and his collaborators had brought us to the threshold of what was announced at the time as ‘the end of all disease’. 

None of this, when you look at the facts, was imaginary or quixotic. Each time, the power of forgetting was triumphant. Each war was more traumatic than anything that had come before. We forgot these optimistic visions and the very real technologies which inspired them. We moved on, in our little Dark Age, our century of war, pollution, starvation and disease. 

The Tesla erasure is a nodal point in the history of physics; the science of biology had already passed a watershed several decades earlier with the adoption of Pasteur’s ‘germ theory’ of disease over the more complex ‘host theory’ of his contemporary Antoine Béchamp — a name now almost forgotten. 

Béchamp was the more qualified scientist. He was a biologist, unlike the chemist Pasteur; not only a Doctor of Medicine and Science, at various times he held professorships in Medical Chemistry and Pharmacology, Physics, Toxicology, and Biological Chemistry. His achievements were so many that a list of them took up eight pages in a scientific journal. And his theory of micro-organisms, embraced also by a number of prominent contemporaries (Bastian, Bernard), was more sophisticated and coherent as well as having a sounder empirical basis than Pasteur’s theory.

Later it became clear that Pasteur had plagiarised and distorted Béchamp to shore up his own theory, and when his notebooks finally became available for academic scrutiny in 1985, that he had lied on various occasions about his methods, results and sample sizes, and failed to apply Koch’s postulates as required for the legitimate attribution of disease causation. According to the bacteriologist R O Young, in a brilliant article entitled Who Had Their Finger on the Magic of Life – Antoine Béchamp or Louis Pasteur? Pasteur had upper class connections which may or may not have given him an advantage in his rivalry with Béchamp. Béchamp also faced opposition from the Catholic Church, including attempts to have his work placed on the index of forbidden books. 

“Abetting, if not creating, an atmosphere repressive to truth was a mood of impassioned ignorance among ecclesiastic authorities at the University of Lille, where Béchamp had moved in 1875 to teach. In a manner similar to that which devastated Galileo, they vigorously opposed the “heresy” of [Béchamp’s theory].

Heightening the poignancy of this tragedy was the depth of that ignorance, which was unable to realise that the view was not heretical at all. In fact, Béchamp was a devout Christian who felt his inquiries merely to be revealing the Creator’s modus. But it is perversely awe-inspiring to see such bias having persisted for a century, supported by the structure of authority in bioscience, so that Béchamp’s principles have not yet [2015] been given fair examination in the mainstream.” (Young)

No ‘conspiracy theory’ is necessary to explain Pasteur’s victory, which can be put down to his gift for public relations and his personal ruthlessness. 

Nevertheless, the Church’s attitude towards Béchamp is hard to explain in terms of theology. It would appear contradictory, because of the two theories it is Pasteur’s which has its roots in Darwinian evolution, which was opposed by the Church as the great heresy of the times. We cannot help but note the convergence of the Church with oligarchical and financial interests in the adoption of a dominant paradigm in microbiology.

Is it a coincidence that Pasteur’s model translated directly into the growth of huge pharmaceutical companies and an interventionist philosophy of medicine: the birth of the business model known as allopathic Western medicine? Rockefeller money drove the twentieth century consolidation of medicine in the USA; the development of petrochemicals gave Rockefeller a dominant interest in the chemical industry, notably through his partnership with I G Farben, the huge industrial conglomerate which funded the rise of Hitler. The American Medical Association was founded mid-nineteenth century, and from 1901 onwards exercised decisive control over the profession through medical licensing and accreditation. In the ensuing decades, the Rockefeller Institute became a dominant source of funding in medical research. 

The progressive consolidation of medicine under centralised control and a single model was cemented by a constant stream of propaganda in both news and fiction media; fifty years of television dramas and soap operas propagandising the public into accepting uncritically the rightness and necessity of so-called ‘heroic’ medicine, and the heroic stature of the allopath. In this atmosphere the post-war generations uncritically accepted statistically-massaged PR stories fed to them about the victories of vaccines and antibiotics over polio, scarlet fever, tuberculosis and other diseases. 

Pasteur gave us the archetype of germ as invader, in an essentially militaristic model. The human body is besieged on all sides by enemies and has fatally flawed defences; it must be helped by radical, ‘heroic’ intervention. 

Béchamp offered a very different way of looking at microbial life than this archetype of germ as monster. For him diseases arise from the tissue, not from outside the body. We do not catch diseases, but build them. 

Experiments had consistently shown that there was something beyond the microscopic level active in disease causation. The assumed ultra-microscopic forms were grouped together under the generic name of viruses for a long time. Béchamp, however, did not imagine monsters at this level, but theorised the existence of: 

“an independently living micro-anatomical element in the cells and fluids of all organisms. This element precedes life at the cellular level, even the genetic level, and is the foundation of all biological organisation.” (Young)

These very small, virtually imperishable organisms he called ‘microzymas’, deeming them fundamental to the processes of life and the construction of cells. But they are also the agents of decomposition, destroying what they create. Toxic, acidic and anaerobic states in the tissues and blood trigger a metamorphosis of the microzyma into ‘morbid’ forms: bacteria, fungi, viruses and other intermediate stages; these can revert to their dormant ‘seed’ state, and metamorphose again when necessary. This is pleomorphism, the belief that micro-organisms can change their form multiple times in a complex life-cycle, as opposed to the monomorphism of Pasteur, which regarded each bacterium, fungus and virus as a separate and unchangeable species, and each species as responsible for a specific disease.

Once triggered, the microbes go to work as detritivores, purging the toxic terrain. Problems arise when the microzymas receive the wrong signals from the tissues and respond as if the host were already dead, essentially initiating post-mortem recycling processes before death. Béchamp reminds us that life is a privilege and that the body we are loaned must be returned. When the time comes, the recycling of the body will not be left to chance; it is equipped to deconstruct itself. 

He wrote: “Every living being has arisen from the microzymas, and every living being is reducible to the microzymas.”

The trick to good health is simple, then: just make sure your microzymas  don’t start think for a moment you are dead. A rule to live by! 

The main trigger is the pH — acidity or alkalinity — of the tissue. A body that maintains the correct pH, and is negatively charged (ie, buzzing with electrons), is ‘immune’, in Pasteurian terms. Its microzymas will not be triggered into pathogenic states. Nor will it be affected by coming into contact with pathogens from other bodies. Atmospheric bacteria and viruses “are not fundamental species, but are either microzymas, or their evolutionary forms, set free from their former vegetable or animal habitat by the death of that medium.” (Young)

All this is the opposite of Pasteur’s model of invading hordes of parasitical foreign bodies trying to infiltrate us with every breath we take. Béchamp acknowledged that atmospheric germs entering the body can tip the balance in an already diseased condition. But disease arises strictly from within. All pathogens are potentially present in the human body at all times — and indeed it is a fact that almost any bacillus can be cultured from any person at any time. Bacteria are attracted to diseased tissues, rather than initiating the disease state. So, for example, it is well known that pneumococci are not present at the onset of symptoms of pneumonia, only showing up later.

For those, like myself, indoctrinated from an early age into the Pasteurian paradigm, this might be hard to accept at first. What about epidemics and plagues? Are not diseases self-evidently communicable? The answer to that is, yes, they can be — but only if the internal terrain is in an already incipiently morbid condition. In that situation, an influx of microbes in a pathogenic form can be disastrous. 

In Béchamp there is a third factor, as well as nutrition and toxicity, that determines the state of the terrain, the vitality of the cells. Again, this factor is neglected in ‘conventional’ medicine and promoted in so-called ‘alternative’ medicine; the third factor in the Béchampian triad of disease causation — ‘imprudences, miseries and vices’ — is emotional state.  

So for example the cause of the epidemic of ‘Spanish flu’ that killed 100,000,000 people globally in the aftermath of the First World War, should be sought in the misery, deprivation and trauma of war, rather than in the microbe itself. These people were delayed casualties of war.

The difference between the two theories is radical. Whereas Pasteur’s theory evokes an evolutionary chaos, Béchamp describes a functional system. The implications for health are radically different, of course: Béchamp leads to naturopathic rather than allopathic approaches; to holistic medicine, with its emphasis on nutrition, detoxification and natural remedies. The emphasis arising from pleomorphism is not on killing or avoiding contact with bacteria, but on maintaining a healthy terrain — alkaline, negatively charged and emotionally balanced. In such a condition, the human body is invulnerable to infection. Attacking the germ is attacking the symptom, not the cause, allowing the underlying disease state to persist. But that is the medical philosophy we have in the West, and it just happens to be the one which generates the healthiest flows of money and the progressive sickening of the population. For every disease, a germ; for every germ, a pill or vaccine. Manage the symptoms; create dependency.

The heretic Béchamp was quietly and progressively erased, purged from the journals, textbooks and encyclopaedias. But a few decades after his death came explosive developments which vindicated his vision, through the career of one Royal (Roy) Raymond Rife. 


The science of microbiology had always been distanced from its object first by the limits of our senses and then by the limits of our optical technology. 

When those limitations were shattered by the optical engineer Roy Rife, the medical establishment reacted to him just as the Church had done to Béchamp. They shut him down, drove him out of the country, and persecuted any of his followers who did not abjure the heretic.

The rest they left to the perennial power of forgetting.

Microscopes in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries achieved up to 2500-diameter magnification, enough to see some bacteria but not viruses. In fact viruses were originally defined simply as organisms too small to see: ‘ultra-microscopic’, i.e. beyond microscopic, impossible to see through a lens.

Even larger organisms, microscopic or non-filtrable, could not be observed in their living state. Chemical staining had to be used to render them visible, and the dyes killed the organisms, as did the processes of drying or freezing used in preparing slides. 

Rife, a pathologist and optical engineer, wanted to see more, smaller, deeper into the mysteries of life. He succeeded, through extraordinary persistence and ingenuity, becoming the first man to observe ultra-microscopic lifeforms directly; the first man ever to see a live virus. He saw things no one had seen before — and what he saw should have changed the paradigm.

Rife had a spectacular career until he ran into the vested interests behind the AMA, the Rockefeller Institute and Harvard Medical School. When he qualified as pathologist from John Hopkins, he knew his course. While continuing his studies at Heidelberg University, he went to work with the Carl Zeiss Optical Company in Germany, where for six years he was part of a team designing and building fine microscopes. Back in the States he used his expertise in imaging to design a quality control scanner system for the manufacture of roller bearings for the industrialist Henry Timken, earning him the undying loyalty and financial support of the billionaire. This gave him complete independence in his research, and Rife used this freedom to develop a radically new type of microscope, more powerful by many orders of magnitude than anything in existence at the time. Rife’s microscope was a prodigious feat of precision engineering; comprising more than five and a half thousand separate parts and using novel media to bend light, it enabled an exponential increase in magnification, achieving 60,000 diameter magnification with 31,000 diameter resolution. 

Rife was observing viruses through his prototype from 1920 onwards, and was the first to isolate and observe the tuberculosis virus. His microscope design went through two further evolutions; its third and final iteration was christened the Universal Microscope. 

This microscope no longer exists.



The microscope itself would not have represented such a breakthrough without Rife’s second revolutionary innovation in microscopy: light-staining. 

The organisms Rife was trying to observe were too small to absorb existing acid or aniline dye stains, which in any case killed the organisms. Instead, he experimented with light-frequencies, and found that each type of microbe could be made to fluoresce using a resonant frequency. He redesigned the microscope to incorporate these light-staining capabilities. (A detailed account of the technique is given by Barry Lynes, author of The Cancer Cure That Worked, and a number of articles extracted from that work available online.)

This enabled him to forego the use of chemical dyes and observe life on the microbial level without killing it. Rife became not only the first man to observe life-forms at the ultra-microscopic level, but to observe them alive; to watch them live.

As an LA Times reporter put it, “Bacilli may thus be studied by their light, exactly as astronomers study moons, suns, and stars by the light which comes from them through telescopes. The bacilli studied are living ones, not corpses killed by stains.” (Los Angeles Times Magazine on December 27, 1931).

No scientist had ever observed live bacilli — merely corpses and empty shells. Modern electron microscopes, under development from around this time, likewise killed their specimens with a bombardment of electrons.

Rife’s observations vindicated Béchamp. With the Universal microscope, he was able to watch organisms changing form in real time.  Through experimentation he was able to trigger these transformations, by manipulating their environment. 

“A major upshot of Rife’s work was his ability, through several pleomorphic stages, to transform a virus he found in cancer tissue into a fungus, plant the fungus in an asparagus-based medium, and produce a bacillus E. coli, the type of microform indigenous to the human intestine. This was repeated hundreds of times. Rife showed that the pleomorphic capacity of microforms goes beyond the bacterial level to the fungal level, and its progression to the last stage—mould.” (Lynes)

Thus the same life cycle encompassed pathogenic forms seen by orthodox science as entirely separate species. 

Young estimates that Rife is one of at least fifty scientists, including contemporary researchers such as himself, who have built on Béchamp’s work and developed his thesis, knowingly or otherwise. These include Wilhelm Reich, Gunther Endelein, the Kalokerinos team in Australia, and the Quebecois Gaston Naessen. When these researchers have been ignorant of the precedent of Bechamp, they have used their own terminology — in Naessen’s lexicon, for example, microzymas are ‘somatids’ — which causes some confusion in the suppressed but resurgent pleomorphic paradigm, but at the same time their independence from each other strengthens the case for pleomorphism as being based on direct observation. Rife’s microscope has never been replicated, but new ‘dark field’ microscopes are also capable of observing bacilli without killing them. Naessens has not only been able to replicate the pleomorphic transformations predicted by Bechamp and witnessed by Rife, but to photograph and film them as well.

Since Rife was observing live organisms, he could experiment upon them using direct perception of effects. By extension of his light-staining technique, he discovered that specific frequencies could be used to destroy micro-organisms. Hit the right frequency and they just popped. He called it the Mortal Oscillatory Rate, and he began the painstaking work of logging the MORs of some fifty types of pathogens.

This discovery could, and should, have meant the end of all disease, and was announced as such in 1930. 

Rife began to attract prominent supporters and collaborators, most notably Dr Milbank Johnson of the University of Southern California, an influential figure in Los Angeles medical circles, and Dr Edward Rosenow of the prestigious Mayo Clinic. A new collaborator, Dr I A Kendall, Director of Medical Research at Northwestern University Medical School in Illinois, came to Rife with his invention of an artificial medium for the replication of viruses — up until then the belief was that viruses could only replicate in live tissue. This was a third great breakthrough, making the study of viruses much easier. The new medium was announced at a dinner for thirty of the most prominent doctors, pathologists and bacteriologists in Los Angeles on November 30 1931.

In December of the same year Rife demonstrated his microscope at a meeting of 250 scientists. An article by Rife and Kendall appeared in the December 1931 issue of California and Western Medicine entitled “Observations on Bacillus Typhosus in its Filtrable State”. On August 26, 1932, Science magazine published Rosenow’s report, “Observations with the Rife Microscope of Filter-Passing Forms of Micro-organisms”. Kendall was invited to speak before the Association of American Physicians on May 3 and 4, 1932, at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore. It was at this point that the opposition of Rockefeller sponsored academics started to manifest itself in the persons of Drs Thomas Rivers and Hans Zinsser. 

Rife remained aloof from controversy and continued his work. Using the ‘K Medium’, in 1932 he was able to isolate a microbe that is present in all cancers. He called it the BX — Bacillus X — virus and gave it the formal name of Cryptocides Primordiales, ‘hidden primordial killer’. Like all microbes it was pleomorphic, manifesting four different forms, depending on its environment. From Lynes:

1)  BX (carcinoma);

2)  BY (sarcoma — larger than BX);

3)  Monococcoid form in the monocytes of the blood of over 90% of cancer patients;

4) Crytomyces pleomorphia fungi — identical morphologically to that of the orchid and of the mushroom.

Rife infected animals with the bacillus, produced tumours and cured them using their Mortal Oscillatory Rate. This was done four hundred times  with 100% success, before moving on to human trials.

In 1934, a ‘cancer clinic’ was sponsored by USC, involving a team of doctors and pathologists and sixteen people with terminal cancers of different types. Fourteen of them were completely cured within two months. The other two required an extra month of treatment to achieve complete remission. 

In the years 1934-39 the Rifean movement took off, both within medical practices and university departments. Rife gained high-profile collaborators who validated and publicised his discoveries and a following of doctors using his frequency manuals and generators to cure all manner of diseases, including cancer. The Royal Society in London verified his findings, and invited Rife to address its members in 1939. Rife’s cancer treatment was formally announced in the journal of the Franklin institute during February 1944. His treatments of virus and bacterial infections and his microscopes were described and praised by the Smithsonian Institute in its journal during the same year.

How astonishing is it then that work so widely recognised could be suppressed so completely? Our society’s capacity for amnesia is a socio-cultural lesson of profound importance.

The medical establishment reacted like a medieval trade guild protecting its secrets, and ruthlessly suppressed Rife’s work, his company, and his technology. Rife’s microscope no longer exists. We went back to a microbiology of corpses and empty shells.

Like Tesla, Rife was taken down at his peak, and by the time the world had gone through another long and hideous global war, it was as if he had never existed. Like Tesla, he was written out of the text-books and the history books and is largely forgotten. The first man to see a live virus; the isolator of the cancer virus, and the inventor of the cure — a man whose name should be immortal — forgotten. Written out.

The reaction of the system to the threat represented by Rife was brutal. Maurice Fishbein, Director of American Medical Association, made an attempt to buy into Rife’s Beam Ray Corporation, and when he was rebuffed bribed Rife’s partner, engineer Philip Hoyland, to bring a spurious legal case against Rife. It seems that this would have been Fishbein’s plan of action in any case, with himself rather than Hoyland as plaintiff: get Rife out of his company, take control of it, and then bury it.

The legal action was defeated, but the company was bankrupted in the process; and this was only the beginning. The Federal Drug Administration and the AMA started confiscating Rife machines from medical practices, sometimes breaking into premises to do so. A laboratory in New Jersey that was replicating Rife’s experiments burned down during March 1939 while the scientist involved was visiting him in San Diego. Three different laboratories across America eventually went up in flames, destroying notes and records. Records disappeared from Rife’s laboratory in San Diego. Parts of the microscope were repeatedly stolen. Rife was continually having to work to restore lost information and engineering. 

Dr Edward C. Rosenow of the Mayo Clinic’s Division of Experimental Bacteriology, one of Rife’s most prominent collaborators, was dismissed from his post, sending ripples of fear through the academic world. Dr Milbank Johnson, Rife’s most powerful ally and the facilitator of the USC trials, died in suspicious circumstances, of ‘food poisoning’ in a hospital he was attending on some minor health matter. The records of the cancer clinic in Johnson’s possession went missing and were never found. The journalist who covered Rife’s work for the Smithsonian journal was shot at, and never wrote on the subject again. 

This was no war of ideas, but naked violence perpetrated in defence of an outdated paradigm on behalf of the corporations and financial interests behind pharmaceutical medicine. Pay-offs and threats, bribery and blackmail, confiscation of equipment, sabotage, theft, arson and, above all, the AMA’s threats to withdraw medical licenses, crushed the movement among doctors. Finally, regulations controlling the use of radio frequencies were introduced, making Rife’s machines effectively illegal. 

Rife entered a period of depression and alcoholism. He made an attempted comeback in the 1960s, with a new partner, the electrical engineer John Crane. The lawyers took Crane down and got him sentenced to ten years in prison, serving only three by dint of subsequent legal victories. Rife left the country, exiling himself for ten years in Mexico. Returning to the States, he was eventually killed in a California hospital by a drug overdose that was not self-administered. Crane carried on the fight, compiling a thousand-page manual preserving the machine specifications and the MOR calibrations. 


Thus Western medicine is based — deliberately and knowingly so since Rife — on an incomplete theory of disease causation. Pasteur’s monomorphism, like wire-based electrical transmission, delivered a straight-forward and profitable business model: for every disease a germ; for every germ a pill, or vaccine. The entire pharmaceutical industry and the medical profession it controls are built on these myopic monomorphic principles. 

Cancer in the post-war era was built into a terrifying monster, but it was protected by a bigger monster, the corporations who profit from its simulated treatment, and their agents within the public institutions who pursue and persecute anyone — and there have been many — who have developed a cure. 

This is not a health system, but a business model masquerading as one. 

And then, in the immediate post-war years, the final, sick joke in the history of cancer treatments: chemotherapy. 

Rife had cured cancer. Something had to fill the void. The Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center in New York was established in 1884 as the first dedicated cancer hospital in America, and from 1940 to the mid-1950s was the centre of drug-testing for the big pharmaceutical companies. Its director from 1939, Cornelius P. Rhoads, had spent the 1930s at the Rockefeller Institute, and led the US Government’s chemical warfare division from 1943-1945, thereafter becoming the nation’s foremost advocate of chemotherapy.

Rhoads spear-headed the post-war campaign to purge Rife’s legacy. He prevented Dr Irene Diller from announcing the discovery of the cancer micro-organism to the New York Academy of Sciences m 1950; after Dr Caspe announced the same discovery in Rome in 1953, he choked off the funding for her New Jersey laboratory, instigated an IRS investigation against her, and succeeded in having her laboratory closed down.

Just as Tesla’s technology was taken underground within the convert establishments of the military-industrial complex, so the cancer microbe was weaponised through intensive (secret) research in the 1960s, for use as an assassination tool. Rife’s work, like Tesla’s, remains active in our world, but  only on the dark side. 

The pharmaceutical companies, the American Cancer Society, and the National Cancer Institute blithely maintain the pretence that no cure for cancer has ever been found. Surgery, radiation and chemical warfare remain the orthodox approaches, the latter in particular sucking huge amounts of profit out of a public indoctrinated by fear, from which the prescribing doctors receive considerable kick-backs. 

The amnesiac public bravely accept these barbaric, agonising and often fatal ‘treatments’. 

What kind of medical system persecutes to death the inventors of real cures for the diseases that plague us?

This is not medicine; this is vampirism. 

The cases of Tesla and Rife have many parallels. Both were superb engineers: hands-on experimentalists, rather than theorists. But in each case, it was more than the technology that was buried; in both, a scientific field was left with a gaping hole torn out of it.

Of course, it’s all about money. But being all about money doesn’t mean it’s only about money. With Rife as with Tesla there is also knowledge that has been suppressed, an idea that been buried; an understanding that is not desired to exist. 

But it does exist. It’s still heresy, but it exists. 

Now, this may be merely a subjective impression, but I can’t help seeing a pattern in the promotion of certain scientific paradigms and the suppression of others within the modern period; the beatification of some scientists and the excommunication of others. The orthodoxy, whether derived from Darwin, Pasteur, Einstein or Bohr, seems premised on the random, the accidental, the chaotic; that which has been suppressed tends towards an appearance of order and balance, both macrocosmic and microcosmic.

I see a symmetry between these two forbidden scientists, Tesla and Rife. For Tesla was not, as his first biographer J J O’Neil portrayed him, without scientific progeny; he was by no means a dead end, as he is portrayed in mainstream narratives. Tesla’s ground-breaking work in Colorado using telluric currents within the earth was immediately followed by the arctic pioneer Kristian Birkeland’s discovery of the source of these subterranean rivers of energy: that the polar auroras  he set out to investigate are the byproducts of vast electric currents entering the planet from the sun, cascading from the poles to the equator, and back again. Birkeland leads ultimately to the astrophysics of Halton Arp and Hannes Alfven and the eventual emergence of a new and powerfully coherent cosmology known as Electric Universe Theory, which repudiates Einstein and replaces gravity with the infinitely more powerful electromagnetic force as the architect of the universe and the source of all forces within it, including gravity, including, even, the life-force itself. 

From the legacy of Tesla, our understanding reaches out into the cosmos. With Rife, the understanding goes within and deep into the microcosmos. In both directions, I submit, both outwards and inwards, macroscopic and microscopic, we see something similar: not chaos and entropy, but order and balance; not a fearful darkness, but a creative fire; a harmony of creation and destruction, the upward-downward path of Herakleitos. 

And that balance and beauty might, I suspect, be the understanding not desired to exist.



Barry Lynes: A Brief History of Dr Royal Raymond Rife

R O Young (2016): Who Had Their Finger on the Magic of Life – Antoine Béchamp or Louis Pasteur?. Int J Vaccines Vaccin 2(5): 00047. DOI: 10.15406/ijvv.2016.02.00047


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