Invisible torture: mind control and cyber torture in the face of global indifference

Published on 07/11/2025 By Raúl Allain Source

There is a form of torture that leaves no visible marks, but silently destroys the mind, body and identity of those who suffer it. A form of violence so sophisticated that it is confused with paranoia or mental illness. I am talking about mind control and cyber torture: real, documented phenomena, yet systematically denied by the structures of power and international indifference.

For years, the United Nations (UN) has received reports from victims who claim to have been subjected to electronic harassment, neuropsychological manipulation and covert surveillance using advanced technologies. The Special Rapporteur on Torture has recognised that the definition of torture must be adapted to new forms of technological aggression. And yet, there is still a wall of silence when someone mentions the word cyber-torture.

The term does not officially appear in the treaties, but its existence is felt in the testimonies. Victims speak of synthetic voices that intrude on their thoughts, induced impulses, remote emotional manipulation, or the constant feeling of being watched even in the most absolute privacy. It sounds like science fiction, and perhaps that is why it has been so easy to dismiss. But the fact that something sounds implausible does not make it any less real.

As a sociologist, I have learned to be wary of overly comfortable consensus. History is full of practices that were denied at the time and later recognised as flagrant violations of human rights. Non-consensual experimentation on humans—from Nazi concentration camps to secret intelligence programmes during the Cold War—shows that the ethical boundaries of science can be blurred with alarming ease.

The MK-Ultra Project, for example, was not a conspiracy theory, but a real operation documented by the CIA in the 1950s and 1960s. Its objective: to explore mind control techniques using drugs, hypnosis, and extreme sensory stimulation. When some of the documents were declassified in the 1970s, the world learned of only a fraction of the horror. This was a precursor to what some researchers today describe as "remote neuromodulation": the use of microwave technologies, electromagnetic frequencies, and nanodevices to alter brain activity or human behaviour.

Exaggeration? Perhaps. But refusing to investigate it thoroughly would be, at best, irresponsible. At worst, complicity.

In 2019, the UN received a report from the Special Rapporteur on Torture, Nils Melzer, warning that the use of neuro-targeted technologies for coercive purposes should be considered a form of torture. Melzer, known for his work in defence of Julian Assange, pointed out that systematic psychological manipulation can be as devastating as physical pain. Behind that observation lies something deeper: the recognition that the human consciousness may become the battlefield of the 21st century.

I have spoken with people who claim to have been victims of mind control. They are not delusional or mystical. They are professionals, students, ordinary workers who began to notice disturbing patterns: digital harassment, constant surveillance, subliminal messages on social media, interference with their devices. Some have isolated themselves, unable to explain what they are experiencing without being judged. Others have organised themselves into support communities, such as the International Coalition Against Electronic Torture and the Robotisation of Living Beings (ICATOR), which has been reporting the existence of neuroelectronic harassment technologies to the United Nations for years.

In Lima, I have encountered similar cases: people who report hearing directed "voices," feeling internal shocks, or experiencing induced dreams after being subjected to surveillance or political conflicts. Some have been diagnosed with schizophrenia, others simply silenced. And although not all cases may have a technological origin, the coincidence in the descriptions should be enough to motivate serious and transparent scientific investigation.

The problem, of course, is that the boundaries between technology, mental health, and political power have become blurred. States and technology corporations possess surveillance tools that were unimaginable just two decades ago. Algorithms know more about us than we know about ourselves. Artificial intelligence can mimic voices, emotions, and even intentions. Who can guarantee that these systems will not be used—or are not already being used—to manipulate collective or individual perception?

Cyber torture, more than just abuse, represents the ultimate dehumanisation. It is no longer about subjugating bodies, but consciences. It is torture without physical contact, but with devastating effects: insomnia, induced paranoia, loss of sense of self, learned helplessness. In practice, it turns victims into mental prisoners.

The most alarming aspect is the legal vacuum. International human rights conventions, including the UN Convention against Torture, were drafted before the rise of neurotechnology. They do not contemplate the possibility that a person could be tortured without being touched. International law has remained stuck in the 20th century, while 21st-century technologies advance without effective regulation.

In 2020, the European Union began debating the ethical limits of "applied neuroscience." Organisations such as the Human Brain Project have warned that brain manipulation could be used for coercive purposes. However, scientific warnings rarely reach the general public. The discussion about cyber-torture remains marginal, and those who denounce it are easily ridiculed or silenced.

This is no coincidence. Denial is part of the mechanism. Throughout history, control systems have depended on the disbelief of the masses. The invisible becomes unpunishable. And meanwhile, victims continue to be treated as mentally ill, which constitutes a second form of violence: institutional violence.

I remember a woman, a mother of two, who tearfully told me how her world began to fall apart after participating in social protests. "I couldn't sleep. I heard voices, but they weren't in my head. They changed tone, responding to my thoughts. My devices turned on by themselves. I thought I was going mad, until other people started telling me similar things." That phrase — "I thought I was going mad" — is repeated like an echo in the testimonies of victims of cyber torture. The anguish of not being able to prove one's own suffering.

Technology, which began as a promise of freedom, has become a new form of slavery. And the most perverse thing is that this slavery is invisible. There are no bars, no interrogators in dark rooms. Just a series of impulses, frequencies and algorithms capable of penetrating the most intimate space: the mind.

The UN has an unavoidable responsibility. It cannot continue to ignore allegations on the pretext that they are "unverifiable". Just because something is difficult to prove does not mean it does not exist. When gas chambers were rumoured to exist, it was also said that they were impossible. When Latin American dictatorships denied the existence of disappeared persons, it was also said that these were exaggerations. The pattern repeats itself: first denial, then belated acceptance, when it is already too late.

Mind control and cyber torture represent the new face of totalitarianism. A totalitarianism without visible ideology, without an army or concentration camps, but with the ability to infiltrate thoughts, shape emotions and nullify free will. If that isn't torture, what is?

In a world where mass surveillance has become normalised—from digital tracking to everyday biometrics—the risk of these technologies being used for coercive purposes is real. It is not a question of futurism or paranoia, but of power. All power tends to expand if no limits are placed on it.

Cyber-torture must be officially recognised as a crime against humanity. The UN must set up an interdisciplinary working group, comprising independent scientists, human rights defenders and victims, to investigate allegations of neuroelectronic manipulation. And states must adopt laws prohibiting the development and use of mind control technologies without consent.

Discussions about technological ethics are not enough. A legal framework is needed to defend the sovereignty of the human mind. Because, ultimately, the mind is the last free territory we have left.

I am concerned about the silence from academia and the media. The press, so eager to cover political scandals or viral trivialities, avoids talking about cyber torture. Perhaps out of fear of losing credibility, perhaps because control mechanisms also operate in the media. But journalism, if it wants to continue to be an exercise in truth, must have the courage to look at what no one else wants to look at.

Sociologists often say that reality is not what happens, but what society accepts as real. If we accept cyberbullying as mere fantasy, we are contributing to its perpetuation. If we recognise it as a concrete threat, we can begin to combat it. The difference between these two positions is the line that separates ignorance from responsibility.

Ultimately, the question is not whether mind control exists, but to what extent we are willing to admit that technology has surpassed our ethical capacity. History will judge us for what we refuse to see.

Torture in the 21st century leaves no scars on the skin, but on the conscience. And as long as we continue to deny its existence, we will be allowing the human mind — that sacred space of inner freedom — to become the new battlefield of power.