What I am about to say does not concern the ordinary man of our day. On the contrary, I have in mind the man who finds himself involved in today’s world, even at its most problematic and paroxysimal points; yet he does not belong inwardly to such a world, nor will he give in to it. He feels himself, in essence, as belonging to a different race from that of the overwhelming majority of his contemporaries. ~ Julius Evola.

Saturday, 28 September 2013

Fyodor Dostoyevsky: The Egalitarian

Illustration for Dostoevsky's "The Possessed", Mstislav Dobuzhinsky [1913]

"Shigalyov is a man of genius. 
He has discovered " equality." 
He has it all so beautifully written down in his copy-book. 
He believes in espionage. 
He wants the members of society to control each other and be in duty bound to denounce their neighbours. 
Everybody belongs to all and all belong to each single one. 
All are  slaves and equals in slavery. As a final resort there will be calumny and murder; but the most important thing remains equality."

~ From The Possessed [ 1872]

Monday, 23 September 2013

Dominique Venner: Living in Accordance with Our Tradition

Translated by Guiliano Malvicini.

Every great people possesses a primordial tradition that is different from all others. It is the past and the future, the world of the depths, the bedrock that supports, the source from which one may draw as one sees fit. It is the stable axis at the center of the turning wheel of change. As Hannah Arendt put it, it is the "authority that chooses and names, transmits and conserves, indicates where the treasures are to be found and what their value is."
This dynamic conception of tradition is different from the Guénonian notion of a single, universal and hermetic tradition, which is supposedly common to all peoples and all times, and which originates in a revelation from an unidentified "beyond". That such an idea is decidedly ahistorical has not bothered its theoreticians. In their view, the world and history, for three or for thousand years, is no more than a regression, a fatal involution, the negation of of the world of what they call "tradition", that of a golden age inspired by the Vedic and Hesiodic cosmologies. One must admit that the anti-materialism of this school is stimulating. On the other hand, its syncretism is ambiguous, to the point of leading some of its adepts, and not the least of them, to convert to Islam. Moreover, its critique of modernity has only lead to an admission of impotence. Unable to go beyond an often legitimate critique and propose an alternative way of life, the traditionalist school has taken refuge in an eschatological waiting for catastrophe. (1) That which is thinking of a high standard in Guénon or Evola, sometimes turns into sterile rhetoric among their disciples. (2) Whatever reservations we may have with regard to the  Evola's claims, we will always be indebted to him for having forcefully shown, in his work, that beyond all specific religious references,  there is a spiritual path of tradition that is opposed to the materialism of which the Enlightenment was an expression. Evola was not only a creative thinker, he also proved, in his own life, the heroic values that he had developed in his work.

In order to avoid all confusion with the ordinary meaning of the old traditionalisms, however respectable they might be, we suggest a neologism, that of "traditionism".
For Europeans, as for other peoples, the authentic tradition can only be their own. That is the tradition that opposes nihilism through the return to the sources specific to the European ancestral soul. Contrary to materialism, tradition does not explain the higher through the lower, ethics through heredity, politics through interests, love through sexuality. However, heredity has its part in ethics and culture, interest has its part in politics, and sexuality has its part in love. However, tradition orders them in a hierarchy. It constructs personal and collective existence from above to below. As in the allegory in Plato's "Timaeus", the sovereign spirit, relying on the courage of the heart, commands the appetites. But that does not mean that the spirit and the body can be separated. In the same way, authentic love is at once a communion of souls and a carnal harmony.
Tradition is not an idea. It is a way of being and of living, in accordance with the Timaeus' precept that "the goal of human life is to establish order and harmony in one's body and one's soul, in the image of the order of the cosmos." Which means that life is a path towards this goal.

In the future, the desire to live in accordance with our tradition will be felt more and more strongly, as the chaos of nihilism is exacerbated. In order to find itself again, the European soul, so often straining towards conquests and the infinite, is destined to return to itself through an effort of introspection and knowledge. Its Greek and Apollonian side, which are so rich, offers a model of wisdom in finitude, the lack of which will become more and more painful. But this pain is necessary. One must pass through the night to reach the dawn.

For Europeans, living according to their tradition first of all presupposes an awakening of consciousness, a thirst for true spirituality, practiced through personal reflection while in contact with a superior thought. One's level of education does not constitute a barrier. "The learning of many things", said Heraclitus, "does not teach understanding". And he added: "To all men is granted the ability to know themselves and to think rightly." One must also practice meditation, but austerity is not necessary. Xenophanes of Colophon even provided the following pleasant instructions: "One should hold such converse by the fire-side in the winter season, lying on a soft couch, well-fed, drinking sweet wine, nibbling peas: 'Who are you among men, and where from?" Epicurius, who was more demanding, recommended two exercises: keeping a journal and imposing upon oneself a daily examination of conscience. That was what the stoics practiced. With the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, they handed down to us the model for all spirtual exercises.
Taking notes, reading, re-reading, learning, repeating daily a few aphorisms from an author associated with the tradition, that is what provides one with a point of support. Homer or Aristotle, Marcus Aurelius or Epictetus, Montaigne or Nietzsche, Evola or Jünger, poets who elevate and memorialists who incite to distance. The only rule is to choose that which elevates, while enjoying one's reading.

To live in accordance with tradition is to conform to the ideal that it embodies, to cultivate excellence in relation to one's nature, to find one's roots again, to transmit the heritage, to stand united with one's own kind. It also means driving out nihilism from oneself, even if one must pretend to pay tribute to a society that remains subjugated by nihilism through the bonds of desire. This implies a certain frugality, imposing limits upon oneself in order to liberate oneself from the chains of consumerism. It also means finding one's way back to the poetic perception of the sacred in nature, in love, in family, in pleasure and in action. To live in accordance with tradition also means giving a form to one's existence, by being one's own demanding judge, one's gaze turned towards the awakened beauty of one's heart, rather than towards the ugliness of a decomposing world.

(1) Generally speaking, the pessimism intrinsic to counter-revolutionary thought - from which Evola distinguishes himself - comes from a fixation with form (political and social institutions), to the detriment of the essence of things (which persist behind change).

(2) The academic Marco Tarchi, who has for a long time been interested in Evola, has criticized in him a sterile discourse peopled by dreams of "warriors" and "aristocrats" (cf. the journal "Vouloir", Bruxelles, january-february 1991. This journal is edited by the philologist Robert Steuckers).

Monday, 16 September 2013

Ernest Renan: Chimerical Reasoning

Reason and science are the products of mankind, 

but it is chimerical to seek reason directly for the people and through the people. It is not essential to the existence of reason that all should be familiar with it; and even if all had to be initiated, this could not be achieved through democracy, which seems fated to lead to the extinction of all arduous forms of culture and all highest forms of learning. The maxim that society exists only for the well-being and freedom of the individuals composing it does not seem to be in conformity with nature's plans, which care only for the species and seem ready to sacrifice the individual. It is much to be feared that the last word of democracy thus understood (and let me hasten to add that it is susceptible of a different interpretation) would be a form of society in which a degenerate mass would have no thought beyond that of enjoying the ignoble pleasures of the vulgar.

—Ernest Renan

Saturday, 7 September 2013

Joseph de Maistre: The Executioner

Joseph-Marie, comte de Maistre (1753 – 26 February 1821) philosopher, jurist, and diplomat, is one of the major figures of the so-called Counter-Enlightenment and  of  Throne and Altar conservatism.

The following passages are taken from the first and seventh of de Maistre's St Petersburg Dialogues, a book written in the manner of a classical symposium. The participants in these dialogues are the Chevalier, the Senator and the Count (the latter usually representing de Maistre's final word on a given question). Among various subjects of discussion such as why the just are not exempt from suffering, why the wicked may enjoy happiness, and the necessity of war, de Maistre gives some thoughts on the judicial executioner; for him this widely reviled figure is, like war, an instrument of divine will. For de Maistre order is cardinal; without authority, backed by the threat of punishment, order is impossible.

...Allow me to direct your attention for a moment to a subject that is undoubtedly shocking. It is nevertheless very worthy of our reflections. This formidable prerogative [the punishment of the guilty by the sovereign] of which I have just spoken results in the necessary existence of a man destined to administer the punishments adjudged for crimes by human justice. This man is, in effect, found everywhere, without there being any means of explaining how; for reason cannot discover in human nature any motive capable of explaining this choice of profession. I believe you too accustomed to reflection, gentlemen, not to have thought often about the executioner.

So who is this inexplicable being who, when there are so many pleasant, lucrative, honest and even honourable professions in which he could exercise his strength or dexterity to choose among, has chosen that of torturing and putting to death his own kind? Are this head and this heart made like our own? Do they contain anything that is peculiar and alien to our nature? For myself, I have no doubt about this. In outward appearance he is made like us; he is born like us. But he is an extraordinary being, and for him to be brought into existence as a member of the human family a particular decree was required, a FIAT of creative power. He is created as a law unto himself.

Consider how he is viewed by public opinion, and try to conceive, if you can, how he could ignore this opinion or confront it! Scarcely have the authorities assigned his dwelling, scarcely has he taken possession of it, when other men move their houses elsewhere so they no longer have to see his. In the midst of this seclusion and in this kind of vacuum formed around him, he lives alone with his female and his offspring, who acquaint him with the human voice. Without them he would hear nothing but groans... A dismal signal is given an abject minister of justice knocks on his door to warn him that he is needed. He sets out. He arrives at a public square packed with a pressing and panting crowd. He is thrown a poisoner, a parricide, a blasphemer. He seizes him, stretches him out, ties him to a horizontal cross, and raises his arms. Then there is a horrible silence; there is no sound but the crack of bones breaking under the crossbar and the howls of the victim. He unties him and carries him to a wheel. The broken limbs are bound to the spokes, the head hangs down, the hair stands on end, and the mouth gaping like a furnace occasionally emits a few bloody words begging for death. He has finished; his heart is pounding, but it is with joy. He congratulates himself. He says in his heart, No one can break men on the wheel better than I. He steps down; he holds out his blood-stained hand, and justice throws him form afar a few gold coins, which he carries away through a double row of men drawing back in horror. He sits down to table and eats; the he goes to bed and sleeps. Awakening on the morrow, he thinks of something quite different from what he did the day before. Is this a man? Yes. God receives him in his shrines and allows him to pray. He is not a criminal and yet no tongue would content to say, for example, that he is virtuous, that he is an honest man, that he is admirable etc. No moral praise seems appropriate for him, since this supposes relationships with human beings and he has none.

And yet all greatness, all power, all subordination rests on the executioner; he is both the horror and the bond of human association. Remove this incomprehensible agent from the world, and in a moment order gives way to chaos, thrones fall, and society disappears. God, who is the author of sovereignty, is therefore the author of punishment. He has suspended our earth on these two poles;
For the pillars of the earth are the Lord's, and he has set the world upon them.

There is then in the temporal sphere a divine and visible law for the punishment of the crime. This law, as stable as the society it upholds, has been executed invariably since the beginning of time. Evil exists on the earth and acts constantly, and by necessary consequence it must constantly be repressed by punishment. All over the globe what we see is the constant action of all governments stopping or punishing criminal outrages. The sword of justice has no sheath; it must always be threatening or striking. For whom are there knouts, gallows, wheels or stakes? For criminals. Obviously. Judicial errors are exceptions that do not upset the rule […]

The Count ( from the First Dialogue)

 I have often had a vision that I would like to share with you. Imagine that a stranger to our planet comes here for some sufficient reason, and talks to one of us about the order that reigns in this world . Among the curious things that are recounted to him, he is told that corruption and vices, about which he has been fully informed, in certain circumstances require men to die by the hand of men, and that we restrict this right to kill legally to the executioner and to the soldier. He will also be told: “ The first brings death to convicted and condemned criminals, and these executions are so rare fortunately that one of these ministers of death suffices for each province. As for soldiers, there are never enough of them for they kill without restraint, and they always kill honest men. Of these two professional killers, the soldier and the executioner, the one is greatly honoured and has always been so honoured among the peoples that up to present have inhabited this planet to which you have come. The other, on the contrary, has just as generally been declared infamous. Can you guess on which one the condemnation falls?

Surely this travelling spirit would not hesitate for a moment; he would accord the executioner all the praise that you could not refuse him the other day, Count, despite all our prejudices, when you spoke to us of this gentleman, as Voltaire would have said 'This sublime being,' he would have told us, 'is the cornerstone of society; since crime has become habitual on your earth, and since it can only be arrested by punishment, if you deprive the world of the executioner all order will disappear with him. Moreover. What greatness of soul, what noble disinterestedness must necessarily be assumed to exist in a man who devotes himself to functions that are undoubtedly deserving of respect, but which are so trying and contrary to your nature! For since I have been among you, I have noticed that it distresses you to kill a chicken on cold blood. I am therefore persuaded that opinion surrounds him with all the honour that he needs and that is justly due him. As for the soldier, he is, all things considered, an agent of cruelty and injustice. How many obviously just wars have there been? How many obviously unjust! How many individual injustices, horrors and useless atrocities! So I imagine that opinion among you has very justly poured as much shame on the head of the solider as it has poured glory on that impartial executioner of the judgement of sovereign justice.'

You know what the situation really is, gentlemen, and how mistaken the spirit would be! 

- The Senator (from the Seventh Dialogue)