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samedi, 23 novembre 2019

A post-liberal reading list

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A post-liberal reading list

Why is a philosophy that's aligned with the way most people think struggling to go mainstream?

BY

Ex: https://unherd.com

The philosopher Isaiah Berlin said there were two sorts of freedom: negative and positive. Negative freedom is the freedom that comes by refusing all constraints. It is the freedom of not being pinned down, the freedom of the open road, the freedom of walking out from jail and having a world of possibilities before you.

By contrast, positive freedom is the sort of liberty that various forms of un-freedom make possible: the freedom expressed by your fingers dancing up a keyboard is made possible by years of disciplined practice; the freedom of running a marathon is made possible by years of not smoking or drinking or lazing about on the sofa. As the lonely commitment-phobic bachelor may someday come to realise, you can pay a very heavy price for choosing the wrong sort of freedom.

More from this author
Why won't Remainers talk about family?

By Giles Fraser

Liberalism is the politics of negative liberty. And it cuts Left and Right — broadly speaking, going Left on culture and Right on economics. On culture, it seeks to dismantle the cultural impediments to minority flourishing and emphasises the importance of individual choice. It is pro-gay and pro-choice. Many are comfortable with all this, but become distinctly less comfortable when words such as “family” and “motherhood” are considered to be a part of the whole apparatus of oppression and in need of deconstruction.

On economics, liberalism seeks to dismantle the barriers to free trade. With free-market capitalism, the human subject has broken free of the restrictive chains of tradition and religion, those of place and community, those of the family, even of one’s own biology. And with the inevitable forward march of globalisation; the collapse of restrictions on capital flows and financial deregulation; the disintegration of nation state borders, soon the values of the unencumbered self would stand victorious over the whole earth.

A few years after the collapse of the Berlin wall, Francis Fukuyama was so confident that Western liberal democracy had become the only show in town that he declared history to be over — and at its zenith stood the liberal subject triumphant.

Suggested reading
How motherhood put an end to my liberalism

By Mary Harrington

He spoke too soon. Whether history will record its crisis as the financial crash of 2008 or the Trump/Brexit revolts of 2016, liberalism is no longer as cocky as it used to be. Despite its many undoubted gains, liberalism is now recognised as coming with a heavy price tag. In the name of negative freedom, it hollowed out many of the conditions of human flourishing: the solidarity of community, the importance of place and roots, spirituality and religion, the family, the nation state.

Post-liberalism is the attempt to resurrect many of these ideas, not because it is hostile to freedom, but because it seeks to articulate a deeper sense of freedom: positive freedom.

Suggested reading
Call yourself post-liberal?

By Peter Franklin

The peculiar thing about post-liberalism is that even though it aligns with many (perhaps even the majority of) people in the West — Right-wing on culture, Left-wing on economics — few, if any, mainstream political parties have moved in to occupy this space. Gramsci could so easily have been talking about the present moment when he said that a political crisis “consists precisely in the fact that the old is dying and the new cannot be born”.

The following is an attempt to stake out something of an intellectual tradition for post-liberal thought, as it has expressed itself over the last 50 years or so. These are, for me, the top 10 texts that could help us consider the present moment in post-liberal terms.

1. After Virtue, by Alasdair MacIntyre

macintyrevirtue.jpgTop spot must go to Alasdair MacIntyre’s After Virtue (1981). A former Marxist turned Thomist, MacIntyre argued that the moral inheritance of the Enlightenment — the crucible of liberal values — was to strip human life of a sense of purpose or teleology. When morality is rendered merely a question of individual choice, the moral life becomes grounded in nothing other than subjective opinion. And on this flimsy basis, it has struggled to survive.

The choice we have before us, MacIntyre claimed, was Nietzsche or Aristotle (or St Benedict). He prophetically expresses the Gramscian moment as us waiting not for Godot but for a new “doubtless very different, St Benedict”. By which he means, the “construction of new forms of community within which the moral life could be sustained so that both morality and civility might survive the coming ages of barbarism and darkness”.

Another book worth reading alongside After Virtue would be John Gray’s Enlightenment’s Wake. Having been a J. S. Mill scholar for much of his academic life, Gray knows the enemy better than many of its proponents (Mill is a poster boy of classical liberalism). Given the preponderance of religiously minded people in the post-liberal quadrant, it is worth noting that atheists like Gray can equally flourish in this space.

2. Why Liberalism Failed, by Patrick Deneen

deneenlib.jpgSecond spot is shared by two very contrasting approaches, one from the Right and one from the Left. Patrick Deneen’s Why Liberalism Failed (2018) is a bracing attack on the borderlessness of the liberal self. It argues that what was designed to promote freedom instead undermined the very conditions — social, educational, religious — that made genuine freedom possible.

Deneen defends the importance of social institutions, from unions to churches to the family, that sustained human flourishing. And he points out that as human beings come to see themselves as fundamentally separate from each other, only the increasing power of the state can impose order on anarchy. Ironically, then, in the name of (negative) freedom, liberalism stimulates the state into greater acts of control.

Suggested reading
Liberalism: the other God that failed

By John Gray

By contrast, Nancy Fraser’s essay in American Affairs From Progressive Neoliberalism to Trump—and Beyond’ (2017)  carefully articulates how progressive liberalism came to form an alliance with neo-liberal economics, to create what she calls the progressive neo-liberalism of the Clintons and Blair.

Not only does she show how the populism that catapulted Trump into the White House was built upon a dissatisfaction with this alliance, but also, more philosophically, how Left and Right liberalism are brothers-in-arms — a fact that is currently most obviously expressed in the woke capitalism of Silicon Valley and Big Tech.

3. The Road to Somewhere, by David Goodhart

goodhartsomewhere.jpgThe Road to Somewhere by David Goodhart (2017) is credited with the introduction of the important terms ‘somewheres’ and ‘anywheres’ to distinguish between those who are bounded and rooted in place, and those who are mobile and rootless. Many smarted at this distinction, with its implication that those who have benefited from social mobility — or, at least, geographical mobility – have expressed some fundamental lack of loyalty to their community.

Suggested reading
It's a bad time for an illegal immigration amnesty

By David Goodhart

Theresa May’s well known comment: “If you believe you are a citizen of the world you are a citizen of nowhere” presses further on this sensitive spot. But there is little doubt Goodhart’s terminology illuminates a central aspect of the populist complaint against liberal politics. This book can be usefully paired with Simone Weil’s The Need for Roots, first published in English in 1952.

4. Hillbilly Elegy, by J. D. Vance

vanceelegy.jpgThe defence of these ‘somewheres’, often derided as small-town, small-minded ‘deplorables’ is vividly captured by J. D. Vance’s brilliant Hillbilly Ellegy (2016), a sympathetic portrait of his upbringing in the Ohio rustbelt.

Likewise, Christophe Guilluy, in his The Twilight of the Elites (2019), describes how France has been fundamentally divided between the economically successful metropolitan centres and the un-chic periphery — a distinction he uses to explain the whole gilets jaunes phenomenon.

Suggested reading
An elegy for the American Dream

By J. D. Vance

5. Red Tory, by Phillip Blond

In the UK, the post-liberal moment was anticipated by Phillip Blond in his Red Tory (2010) and later by the Blue Labour movement. In the old terms of Left and Right, both were seen as political cross-dressers. Both regard capitalism and socialism as equally flawed, preferring instead something more like an economics of distributivism, where economic activity is subordinate to human interest — see Hilaire Belloc’s The Servile State (1912). For a quick guide to Blue Labour you could do worse than listen to Maurice Glasman’s Confessions or read Adrian Pabst’s The Demons of Liberal Democracy (2019).

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6. Liberalism and the Limits of Justice, by Michael Sandel

Earlier philosophical attempts to expose the limits of liberal politics included the development of communitarianism, associated with thinkers like Charles Taylor and (his student) Michael Sandel. Sandel’s Liberalism and the Limits of Justice (1982) is a more difficult book than one might expect from Radio 4’s user-friendly ‘public philosopher’, but it is an important milestone in the tradition — not least in the way that Sandel takes on John Rawls, in many ways the master thinker of 20th century liberalism.

And, qua Rawls, a special mention here must go to Katrina Forrester’s recently published In the Shadow of Justice: Postwar Liberalism and the Remaking of Political Philosophy (2019). But for my money the two great books of this tradition are Taylor’s magisterial Sources of the Self (1989) and his brilliant little polemic The Ethics of Authenticity (1992).sandellimits.jpg

7. Theology and Social Theory by John Millbank

There is no doubt that post-liberalism — in contrast with many other 20th and  21st century ‘isms’ — has an influential and functioning theological wing. John Millbank’s Theology and Social Theory (1990) is a formidable statement of the argument. It is noteworthy that Phillip Blond began as a theology academic, Red Tory being in many ways an extension of the whole Radical Orthodoxy school that included people like Millbank and Rowan Williams.

Suggested reading
How beauty shapes our fates

By Phillip Blond

Within the church itself, it is Catholic social teaching, growing out of Pope Leo XIII’s Rerum Novarum (1891) and latterly expressed by Benedict XVI, that has proved to be especially influential. From Dorothy Day to Rod Dreher, it is not possible to capture the influence of Catholic social teaching in simple Left/Right terms. These are all Christian references, but pretty much all systems of religious belief carry both pre- and post-liberal convictions.millbanktheology.jpg

8. Why Love Matters, by Sue Gerhardt

Family life is often the entry point of former liberals into a more post-liberal sensibility. Having children often necessitates a certain rootedness, but also the lack of choice involved in who your children are or who your parents are exposes the limits of the liberal idea that we are all contractually related.

Why Love Matters: How Affection Shapes a Baby’s Brain (2004) by Sue Gerhardt is an important take on the science of early mother/child relationships. Pretty much anything by Donald Winnicott and John Bowlby on attachment would fit well under this category.

Suggested reading
Why liberal feminists don't care

By Mary Harringtongerhardtlove.jpg

9. The World Beyond Your Head, by Matthew Crawford

The tradition which follows up on John Ruskin’s emphasis on beauty also feeds into post-liberalism. Roger Scruton on architecture, Jane Jacobs on the importance of neighbourhoods, and increasingly those who try and capture something of the dignity and spirituality of work.

Matthew Crawford’s The World Beyond Your Head (2015) is a brilliant diagnosis of the way in which the liberal Kantian self finds it hard to concentrate in a world of perpetual distraction.

Suggested reading:
The rise of the hippie conservatives

By Freddie Sayers

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10. Prosperity without Growth, by Tim Jackson

Finally, the environment. Here, above all, the liberal idea of continuous and perpetual growth runs up against the distinctly post-liberal idea of the existence of limits. Tim Jackson’s Prosperity without Growth (2011) is of particular interest here. But the person I would read first is the Kentucky poet/farmer Wendell Berry. The World-Ending Fire (2019) is an astonishing collection of essays; The Unsettling of America: Culture and Agriculture (1977) is a work of genius.

This list is very much my own. Others will point to how much has been missed out. But if I were to design a kind of post-liberal curriculum, this is where I would start. In the UK, probably the most successful attempt to translate these ideas into some sort of political programme is that of the SDP’s New Declaration.

jacksongrowth.jpgBut despite the fact that many people exist within the quadrant it describes (Left on economics, Right on culture) it is still struggling to break through. It’s perhaps because it’s easier for the Right to break Left on economics than for the Left to break Right on culture — which is why the Conservative and Republican parties may be more amenable to this sort of thinking than their opponents. But even this is not a natural fit. Which brings us back to Gramsci. The old is dead. The new is yet to be born.

mercredi, 06 novembre 2019

Le Loup des steppes contre leur monde moderne

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Le Loup des steppes contre leur monde moderne

Par Nicolas Bonnal

Ex: https://leblogalupus.com

Le loup des steppes : et si on le lisait au lieu d’en parler?

C’est le hasard de mon livre sur Céline qui me fit retrouver Hermann Hesse, écrivain surfait et déjà oublié. Mais dans le Loup des steppes il nous semble, sans nous balancer dans la littérature comparée, qu’il aborde le problème de la modernité comme Céline. On est à l’époque de la guerre, de la massification, des abrutissements modernes et des années folles. Voyez la Foule de King Vidor pour évaluer le beuglant…

On commence par les hommes-masse de notre époque (traduction de Juliette Parry) » :

« Il ne s’agit pas ici de l’homme tel que le connaissent l’école, l’économie nationale, la statistique, de l’homme tel qu’il court les rues à des millions d’exemplaires et qu’on ne saurait considérer autrement que le sable du rivage ou l’écume des flots : quelques millions de plus ou de moins, qu’importe, ce sont des matériaux, pas autre chose. »

Hesse décrit aussi la vie ennuyée de cet homme-masse façonné par l’industrie et cet écœurement qui en sourd :

« …celui qui a vécu des jours infernaux, de mort dans l’âme, de désespoir et de vide intérieur, où, sur la terre ravagée et sucée par les compagnies financières, la soi-disant civilisation, avec son scintillement vulgaire et truqué, nous ricane à chaque pas au visage comme un vomitif, concentré et parvenu au sommet de l’abomination dans notre propre moi pourri, celui-là est fort satisfait des jours normaux, des jours couci-couça comme cet aujourd’hui ; avec gratitude, il se chauffe au coin du feu ; avec gratitude, il constate en lisant le journal qu’aujourd’hui encore aucune guerre n’a éclaté, aucune nouvelle dictature n’a été proclamée, aucune saleté particulièrement abjecte découverte dans la politique ou les affaires…»

Comme Céline ou Ortega Y Gasset (et des dizaines d’autres), Hermann Hesse dénonce cette émergence cette civilisation de la masse satisfaite :

« Je ne comprends pas quelle est cette jouissance que les hommes cherchent dans les hôtels et les trains bondés, dans les cafés regorgeant de monde, aux sons d’une musique forcenée, dans les bars, les boîtes de nuit, les villes de luxe, les expositions universelles, les conférences destinées aux pauvres d’esprit avides de s’instruire, les corsos, les stades… »

Une brève allusion à notre américanisation – qui frappe aussi Chesterton ou Bernard Shaw à cette époque :

« En effet, si la foule a raison, si cette musique des cafés, ces plaisirs collectifs, ces hommes américanisés, contents de si peu, ont raison, c’est bien moi qui ai tort, qui suis fou, qui reste un loup des steppes, un animal égaré dans un monde étranger et incompréhensible, qui ne retrouve plus son cli mat, sa nourriture, sa patrie. »

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Le personnage couche avec des danseuses lesbiennes découvre le fox-trot et la musique nègres. Mais voici ce que dit la danseuse :

« Crois-tu que je ne puisse comprendre ta peur du fox-trot, ton horreur des bars et des dancings, ta résistance au jazz-band et à toutes ces insanités ? Je ne les comprends que trop, et aussi ton dégoût de la politique, ton horreur des bavardages et des agissements irresponsables des partis et de la presse, ton désespoir en face de la guerre, celle qui fut et celle qui viendra, en face de la façon dont on pense aujourd’hui, dont on lit, dont on construit, dont on fait de la musique, dont on célèbre les cérémonies, dont on fabrique l’instruction publique ! Tu as raison, Loup des steppes, tu as mille fois raison, et pourtant tu dois périr. Tu es bien trop exigeant et affamé pour ce monde moderne, simple, commode, content de si peu ; il te vomit, tu as pour lui une dimension de trop. »

Après on donne une définition de loup des steppes (titre d’un groupe de pop au temps jadis) :

 « Celui qui veut vivre en notre temps et qui veut jouir de sa vie ne doit pas être une créature comme toi ou moi. Pour celui qui veut de la musique au lieu de bruit, de la joie au lieu de plaisir, de l’âme au lieu d’argent, du travail au lieu de fabrication, de la passion au lieu d’amusettes, ce joli petit monde-là n’est pas une patrie… »

Et si Céline a dit que la vérité de ce monde c’est la mort :

« Il en fut toujours ainsi, il en sera toujours ainsi ; la puissance et l’argent, le temps et le monde appartiennent aux petits, aux mesquins, et les autres, les êtres humains véritables, n’ont rien. Rien que la mort… »

Et si Céline a dit que la postérité c’est pour les asticots :

« La gloire, ça n’existe que pour l’enseignement, c’est un truc des maîtres d’école. »

Antisémitisme ; Hesse le voit pointer comme la prochaine guerre dès le début des années vingt, au moment où Céline vit le Voyage :

« Il n’a pas vécu la guerre, ni le bouleversement des bases de la pensée par Einstein (cela, pense-t-il, est du domaine des mathématiciens) ; il ne voit pas comment se prépare autour de lui la prochaine guerre ; il tient pour haïssables les Juifs et les communistes ; il est un brave gosse insouciant et gai qui se prend au sérieux, il est digne d’être envié. »

L’Allemagne est déjà prête pour la prochaine guerre comme le voit Bainville à la même époque. On a aussi fait ce qu’il fallait au traité de Versailles (lisez Guido Preparata à ce sujet) :

« C’est cela qu’ils ne me pardonnent pas, car, bien entendu, ils sont tous innocents : le Kaiser, les généraux, les grands industriels, les politiciens, les journaux, nul n’a rien à se reprocher, ce n’est la faute de personne. On croirait que tout va on ne peut mieux dans le monde ; seulement, voilà, il y a une douzaine de millions d’hommes assassinés. »

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Hesse aussi hait ces journaux qui rendront fou Céline :

« Deux tiers de mes compatriotes lisent cette espèce de journaux, entendent ces chansons matin et soir ; de jour en jour, on les travaille, on les serine, on les traque, on les rend furieux et mécontents ; et le but et la fin de tout est encore la guerre, une guerre prochaine, probablement encore plus hideuse que celle-ci. »

Hesse décrit dégoûté une absorption des journaux :

« C’est bizarre, tout ce qu’un homme est capable d’avaler ! Pendant près de dix minutes, je lus un journal et laissai pénétrer en moi, par le sens de la vue, l’esprit d’un homme irresponsable, qui remâche dans sa bouche les mots des autres et les rend salivés, mais non digérés. C’est cela que j’absorbai pendant un laps de temps assez considérable. »

Et si Céline parle de la musique judéo-saxo-nègre, Hesse aussi :

« Lorsque je passai devant un dancing, un jazz violent jaillit à ma rencontre, brûlant et brut comme le fumet de la viande crue. Je m’arrêtai un moment : cette sorte de musique, bien que je l’eusse en horreur, exerçait sur moi une fascination secrète. Le jazz m’horripilait, mais je le préférais cent fois à toute la musique académique moderne ; avec sa sauvagerie rude et joyeuse, il m’empoignait, moi aussi, au plus profond de mes instincts, il respirait une sensualité candide et franche ».

Céline et les nègres ? Hermann Hesse et les nègres, et la bonne musique nègre :

« Et cette musique-là avait l’avantage d’une grande sincérité, d’une bonne humeur enfantine, d’un négroïsme non frelaté, digne d’appréciation. Elle avait quelque chose du Nègre et quelque chose de l’Américain qui nous paraît, à nous autres Européens, si frais dans sa force adolescente. L’Europe deviendrait-elle semblable ? Était-elle déjà sur cette voie ? »

Toute la vieille culture est remise en cause comme chez Elie Faure à la même époque :

« Nous autres vieux érudits et admirateurs de l’Europe ancienne, de la véritable musique, de la vraie poésie d’autrefois, n’étions-nous après tout qu’une minorité stupide de neurasthéniques compliqués, qui, demain, seraient oubliés et raillés ? Ce que nous appelions « culture », esprit, âme, ce que nous qualifiions de beau et de sacré n’était-ce qu’un spectre mort depuis longtemps, et à la réalité duquel croyaient seulement quelques fous ? Ce que nous poursuivions, nous autres déments, n’avait peut-être jamais vécu, n’avait toujours été qu’un fantôme ? »

Comme dit Debord l’ancienne culture elle est congelée.

Néanmoins Hesse ne fait pas preuve d’hypocrisie, et il nous donne sa deuxième définition du loup des steppes  c’est un bohême collaborateur de cette bourgeoisie.

« En effet, la puissance de vie du bourgeoisisme ne se base aucunement sur les facultés de ses membres normaux, mais sur celles des outsiders extrêmement nombreux, qu’il est capable de contenir par suite de l’indétermination et de l’extensibilité de ses idéals. Il demeure toujours dans le monde bourgeois une foule de natures puissantes et farouches. Notre Loup des steppes Harry en est un exemple caractéristique. Lui, qui a évolué vers l’individualisme bien au-delà des limites accessibles au bourgeois, lui qui connaît la félicité de la méditation, ainsi que les joies moroses de la haine et de l’horreur de soi, lui qui méprise la loi, la vertu et le sens commun, est pourtant un détenu du bourgeoisisme et ne saurait s’en évader. »

On se vent âme et corps au monde moderne et à sa technique de divertissement. Si notre Céline a dit que les Américains font l’amour comme les oiseaux, Hermann Hesse montre que son époque est libérée et son Allemagne de Weimar aussi :

« La plupart étaient extraordinairement douées pour l’amour et assoiffées de ses joies ; la plupart le pratiquaient avec les deux sexes ; elles ne vivaient que pour l’amour, et à côté des amis officiels et payants elles cultivaient d’autres liaisons amoureuses. Actives et affairées, soucieuses et frivoles, sensées et pourtant étourdies, ces libellules vivaient leur vie aussi enfantine que raffinée, indépendantes, ne se vendant que selon leur bon plaisir, attendant tout d’un coup de dés et de leur bonne étoile, amoureuses de la vie et cependant bien moins attachées à elle que ne le sont les bourgeois, toujours prêtes à suivre un prince charmant dans son château de conte de fées, toujours demi-conscientes d’une fin triste et fatale. »

La fille lui reproche de ne pas savoir danser, d’avoir appris le grec et le latin. Vian dira qu’il vaut mieux apprendre à faire l’amour que s’abrutir sur un livre d’histoire. Mais Céline tape tout le temps sur notre éducation et veut nous rapprendre le rigodon.

Le cinéma cette petite mort (Céline) ; voici comment Hesse décrit le procès.

« En flânant je passai devant un cinéma, je vis des enseignes lumineuses et de gigantesques affiches coloriées ; je m’éloignai, je revins sur mes pas et finalement j’entrai. Je pourrais demeurer là bien tranquillement jusqu’à onze heures environ. Conduit par l’ouvreuse avec sa lanterne, je trébuchai dans la salle obscure, je me laissai tomber sur un siège et me trouvai tout à coup en plein dans l’Ancien Testament. Le film était un de ceux qu’on tourne à grands frais et avec force trucs soi-disant non pas pour gagner de l’argent, mais dans des buts sublimes et sacrés ; les maîtres de catéchisme y conduisent en matinée leurs élèves. »

Après il tape encore plus fort sur ce cinéma :

« Ensuite, je vis le Moïse monter sur le Sinaï, sombre héros sur une sombre cime, et Jéhovah lui communiquer les dix commandements, avec le concours de l’orage, de la tempête et des signaux lumineux, cependant que son peuple indigne, entre-temps, dressait au pied du mont, le veau d’or et s’abandonnait à des distractions plutôt bruyantes. Il me paraissait bizarre et incroyable de contempler ainsi les histoires saintes, leurs héros et leurs miracles, qui avaient fait planer sur notre enfance les premières divinations vagues d’un monde surhumain ; il me semblait étrange de les voir jouer ainsi devant un public reconnaissant, qui croquait en silence ses cacahuètes : charmante petite saynète de la vente en gros de notre époque, de nos gigantesques soldes de civilisation… »

Et il dit ce qu’il en pense de cette société de consommation et de divertissement :

« Seigneur mon Dieu ! pour éviter cette saleté, c’étaient non seulement les Égyptiens, mais les Juifs et tous les autres hommes qui eussent dû périr alors d’une mort violente et convenable, au lieu de cette petite mort sinistrement mesquine et bourgeoise dont nous mourons aujourd’hui. »

La petite mort du monde bourgeois est ici là dans le poste de T.S.F.

« Mais c’était, je le vis bientôt, un appareil de T.S.F. qu’il avait dressé et mis en marche ; installant le haut-parleur, il annonça : « Vous entendrez Munich, le Concerto grosso en F-Dur de Haendel. »

En effet, à ma surprise et à mon épouvante indicible, l’appareil diabolique se mit à vomir ce mélange de viscose glutineuse et de caoutchouc mâché que les possesseurs de phonographes et les abonnés de la T.S.F. sont convenus d’appeler musique… »

Conclusion ? Nous sommes la civilisation de la fin du monde, comme dit Philippe Grasset, celle que rien n’arrête !

mardi, 29 octobre 2019

Une enquête inachevée sur Olrik

Olrikchapka.jpeg

Une enquête inachevée sur Olrik

par Georges FELTIN-TRACOL

olriklivre.jpegL’ancien secrétaire général de l’Élysée sous François Mitterrand (1991 – 1995) et ministre des Affaires étrangères lors de la troisième cohabitation entre 1997 et 2002, Hubert Védrine, co-signe avec son fils Laurent une « biographie non autorisée » sur Olrik.

Olrik ? Les lecteurs de la série de bande dessinée Blake et Mortimer d’Edgar P. Jacobs le connaissent bien entendu. Dans plusieurs albums, il échafaude des plans finalement déjoués par le capitaine de Sa Gracieuse Majesté, Francis Blake, et son ami, le professeur Philip Mortimer. Fort de son expérience au Quai d’Orsay d’où il approuva en 1999 les scandaleux bombardements de l’OTAN sur la valeureuse Serbie, Hubert Védrine qui passe désormais pour un « sage » d’une diplomatie supposée « gaullo-mitterrandienne » a utilisé ses nombreuses relations afin de retracer d’une manière imparfaite l’existence tumultueuse d’Olrik.

On apprend que cet aventurier et criminel d’envergure internationale rencontre par deux fois Edgar P. Jacobs qui, subjugué, prend bien soin de ne jamais le dépeindre réellement. Olrik converse même au soir de sa vie avec le réalisateur des trilogies StarWars, George Lucas, qui en est si impressionné que les Sith de la seconde trilogie semblent s’en inspirer... Or ce n’est pas la première fois qu’on cherche à dévoiler la vie plus qu’agitée d’Olrik. Le grand historien militaire suisse Jean-Jacques Langendorf avait dès 2012 pour le site Le Polémarque esquissé son portrait (« Éloge du colonel Olrik »). Il affina son propos, cinq ans plus tard, dans la revue Stratégique par un excellent article intitulé « Le colonel Olrik, conseiller de S.A.I. Basam Damdu : soldat de génie ou/et franche canaille ? ».

Jean-Jacques Langendorf et les Védrine père et fils ne s’accordent que sur deux points précis : les origines baltes d’Olrik et son style vestimentaire. Ses tenues sont toujours impeccables. Il n’hésite pas à se fournir chez le tailleur le plus réputé de Londres. Pour tout le reste, leurs conclusions biographiques se contredisent bien évidemment, ce qui est compréhensible de la part d’un individu qui a le talent de mêler le crime organisé, l’espionnage et des opérations troubles.

Olrik traverse le XXe siècle en quête d’argent et d’action. Vladimir Volkoff alias le Lieutenant X l’a parfois croisé aux États-Unis et au Berkeley à Paris ! Pour les Védrine, ce redoutable machiavélien a travaillé autant pour l’Occident que pour l’URSS. À la fin de la Guerre froide, il œuvre pour le Pakistan islamiste et la Corée du Nord nationale-communiste. Ces deux États ne l’ont pas regretté puisque Olrik a réussi à en faire des puissances nucléaires. Les auteurs d’Olrik. La biographie non autorisée s’interrogent toutefois sur sa présence au Katanga séparatiste au début des années 1960. Cette province riche en minerais (dont le diamant) fait alors sécession au moment de l’indépendance du futur ex-Congo belge. L’appât du gain n’est pas la seule motivation d’Olrik pendant ce séjour. Outre la formation avec l’aide des mercenaires européens d’un noyau d’armée nationale katangaise, Olrik a le loisir de discuter à diverses reprises avec le militant nationaliste-révolutionnaire français François Duprat présent en tant que responsable de la propagande du président Moïse Tshombé. Les auteurs semblent ignorer qu’Olrik agissait aux côtés des services secrets d’Afrique du Sud et du Portugal en faveur d’une « contre-Tricontinentale blanche » anti-communiste.

Hubert Védrine et Laurent Védrine ne savent pas non plus qu’on retrouve son ombre archétypale chez d’autres dessinateurs dans l’entourage plus ou moins proche d’Hergé. Le père d’Alix le Gaulois, Jacques Martin, fait volontiers affronter le journaliste Guy Lefranc au redoutable et flamboyant Axel Borg. Or bien des notes blanches du renseignement concordent sur le fait qu’Axel Borg n’est autre qu’Olrik lui-même ! Hergé est le premier à en convenir puisqu’il s’en réfère lui aussi d’une façon plus implicite. L’un des ennemis principaux de Tintin et du Capitaine Haddock n’est-il pas le Bordure Sponsz, colonel de son état ? Quelques spécialistes en guerres secrètes expliquent loin de Moulinsart que le métier de Tintin – le journalisme – n’est qu’une couverture bien pratique pour cet agent des services secrets syldaves. Pourquoi sinon Tintin aurait-il participé à la première expédition spatiale vers la Lune ? Chacune de ses missions est une opération clandestine destinée à contrecarrer les menées subversives de la Bordurie moustachiste.

olrikmonocle.jpgDes interprétations divergent une nouvelle fois sur l’identité réelle du colonel Sponsz. S’agit-il d’un faux nom du colonel Olrik ou bien d’un de ses élèves doués ? Les Védrine font d’ailleurs l’impasse complète sur la période bordure d’Olrik qui suit la fin de l’Empire Jaune mondial et l’échec de plusieurs actions politico-criminelles en Europe de l’Ouest. L’homme fort de la Bordurie, le Maréchal Plekszy-Gladz, ne pouvait pas ne pas accueillir un homme aussi réputé dans son art qu’Olrik.

Tintin l’a longtemps recherché, en particulier au Tibet. Officiellement, le journaliste – reporter y part avec la ferme intention de sauver son ami Tchang. Il sait en réalité qu’Olrik y a vécu. Avant-guerre, il aurait participé à l’expédition d’Ernst Schäfer parrainée par l’Ahnenerbe (le service scientifique, patrimonial et historique de l’Ordre noir). Pourquoi ? Les Védrine père et fils n’apportent aucune réponse. De rares sources recoupées avec soin avec quelques précieux témoignages avancent qu’au cours de sa formation de cadet en Russie pré-révolutionnaire, le jeune Olrik aurait pu être en contact (Comment ? Par quel moyen ? Par l’intermédiaire de qui ?) avec le baron Roman von Ungern-Sternberg, chef de la Division asiatique de cavalerie et régent de la Mongolie en 1921. On sait aujourd’hui que le général-baron avait l’intention de reconstituer l’Empire eurasiatique de Gengis Khan autour de deux piliers spirituels forts : Ourga en Mongolie et Lhassa au Tibet. Olrik a-t-il repris à son compte le formidable dessein du « Baron fou » ? Cela expliquerait sa présence exceptionnelle d’homme blanc parmi les hiérarques de l’Empire Jaune dans les trois volumes du Secret de l’Espadon…

Expert en conjurations politiques, en sabotages, en désinformation, en complots militaires, en infiltrations, en déguisements et en conspirations techno-économiques, le Colonel Olrik incarne l’Albo-Européen mû par un authentique esprit faustien, ce sens du tragique qui édifia le Parthénon d’Athènes et le Colisée à Rome, construisit les cathédrales gothiques et conçut les premières fusées. Ce n’est donc pas anodin si Guillaume Faye, déjà parolier du Docteur Merlin avec Maléfice, prit dans les années 1980 le pseudonyme d’Olrik pour écrire deux chansons de Robert Pagan (Les nouveaux dieux et L’Empire) incluses dans Chants de Révolte et d’Espérance. L’auteur du Système à tuer les peuples a toujours admiré cet anarque génial à l’indomptable courage.

Georges Feltin-Tracol

• Hubert Védrine et Laurent Védrine, Olrik. La biographie non autorisée, Fayard, 2019, 220 p., 20 €.

00:10 Publié dans art, Bandes dessinées, Livre, Livre | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : bande dessinée, 9ème art, olrik, livre | |  del.icio.us | | Digg! Digg |  Facebook

jeudi, 17 octobre 2019

Présentation de la traduction roumaine de Neuro-Pirates par Lucien Cerise au Troisième Forum de Chișinău (Moldavie, 20-21 septembre 2019)

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Présentation de la traduction roumaine de Neuro-Pirates par Lucien Cerise au Troisième Forum de Chișinău (Moldavie, 20-21 septembre 2019)

 

Tout d’abord, merci à Iurie Roşca de me donner l’occasion de vous présenter la traduction en roumain de « Neuro-Pirates – Réflexions sur l’ingénierie sociale ». Ce livre a été publié originellement en 2016 aux éditions Kontre Kulture, dirigées par Alain Soral, que je remercie également. Il rassemble des textes dont le fil conducteur est l’ingénierie sociale. Dans le monde russophone, on parlerait de « technologies politiques » (политических технологий). Ce champ d’études fait la jonction entre la politique, la géopolitique, les sciences humaines et sociales, et certaines disciplines que l’on rencontre dans le monde de l’entreprise, telles que le management, le marketing et la sécurité des systèmes. Aujourd’hui, mon travail sur ces questions appartient à ce que l’on pourrait appeler la troisième génération de l’ingénierie sociale. Auparavant, la notion d’ingénierie sociale apparaît au XXème siècle en deux étapes historiques.

Le premier âge de l’ingénierie sociale est la constitution des sciences de la gestion dans la première moitié du XXème siècle : management, marketing et cybernétique pour l’essentiel. Karl Popper est le principal penseur ayant vulgarisé la notion d’ingénierie sociale auprès du grand public, notamment dans son ouvrage « La société ouverte et ses ennemis », publié en 1945. Sans cette contribution, l’ingénierie sociale serait probablement restée confinée dans des cabinets de consultants et de spécialistes. L’idée centrale de l’ingénierie sociale est de faire de la planification sociale, c’est-à-dire de concevoir a priori le développement d’un groupe social et de fabriquer le consentement de ce groupe aux transformations qu’on veut lui imposer en appliquant des techniques de conduite du changement et de coaching d’entreprise. Quelques références : Walter Lippman sur le façonnage et le retournement (Spin) de l’opinion publique (Public Opinion, 1922) ; Edward Bernays sur la fabrique du consentement (The Engineering of Consent, 1947-1955) ; Stuart Ewen sur la planification sociale en contexte libéral (Captains of Consciousness : Advertising and the Social Roots of the Consumer Culture, 1976) ; Leonid Savin (proche collaborateur d’Alexandre Douguine), qui traite dans son ouvrage de 2019 « Coaching and Conflicts » des applications géopolitiques et militaires des méthodes issues de la psychologie sociale et de la dynamique des groupes.

Le deuxième âge de l’ingénierie sociale vient des milieux du piratage informatique et des sciences de la sécurité (sciences du risque, du danger, cindynique). Le pirate informatique Kevin Mitnick met au point dans les années 1980-90 une méthode de piratage du facteur humain dans les systèmes de sécurité reposant sur trois concepts clés : l’usurpation d’identité, l’abus de confiance, l’hameçonnage (phishing). Il publie en 2002 « L’art de la supercherie » (The Art of Deception). Les notions de piratage, de « hacking », de tromperie et de furtivité sont ainsi pleinement intégrées dans la pratique concrète de l’ingénierie sociale.

Troisièmement, à partir de 2005, je reprends et retravaille tout cet héritage, et je propose aujourd’hui la définition suivante de l’ingénierie sociale, qui est une synthèse des deux périodes précédentes : « L’ingénierie sociale est la transformation furtive des sujets sociaux, individus ou groupes. » Selon cette définition, un disciple bien connu de Karl Popper nommé George Soros peut être décrit comme faisant de l’ingénierie sociale de masse, soit du neuro-piratage de masse.

neuropîrates.jpgQuelle est la méthode d’un neuro-pirate pour vous pirater l’esprit ? Comment faire pour vous implanter des virus cognitifs qui vont vous transformer à votre insu ? Tout d’abord, je dois franchir vos barrières de « sécurité cognitive », contourner vos défenses mentales. Pour vous pirater efficacement, je ne dois en aucun cas éveiller votre méfiance, sinon vous vous fermez à moi et je ne peux plus entrer dans votre esprit. L’ingénierie sociale est d’abord une capacité à manipuler trois types de relations : la confiance, la méfiance, l’indifférence. Pour cela, je dois utiliser toutes les ressources d’une figure d’Analyse transactionnelle inventée par Stephen Karpman qui modélise les interactions sociales selon trois places à occuper : la victime, qui déclenche confiance ou indifférence ; le sauveur, qui déclenche la confiance ; et le bourreau, qui déclenche la méfiance. Gagner la confiance, ou au moins susciter l’indifférence en occupant la place de la victime ou du sauveur, permet d’endormir la méfiance et la vigilance. George Soros a trouvé une tactique très efficace pour pirater des millions de gens sur la planète : demander à tout le monde de s’ouvrir, au nom des droits de l’homme et de leur idéologie victimaire. L’appel à l’ouverture a une connotation positive qui fait naître la confiance. Quand vous vous êtes ouvert à moi, quand j’ai gagné votre confiance, ou votre indifférence, je peux agir sur vous pour vous reprogrammer, et éventuellement vous détruire, sans éveiller votre méfiance, mais en éveillant la méfiance entre vous et autrui dans un conflit triangulé, de sorte que chacun perçoive l’autre comme un bourreau et se replie défensivement sur son ego.

Diviser pour régner, jusqu’à diviser l’esprit de l’individu. L’ingénierie sociale est le plus souvent un travail de désorganisation de la société, par la désorganisation furtive de l’esprit d’autrui, à l’échelle de l’individu ou du groupe. Cette désorganisation mentale collective n’apparaît pas spontanément, elle est le résultat d’une véritable technique psycho-sociale consistant à pirater le cerveau collectif d’une population cible pour y introduire des virus et le « faire planter », au sens informatique, provoquer un plantage, en anglais un « system crash ». Une épidémiologie des virus cognitifs permet de découvrir quel est le virus des virus, le virus racine, à partir duquel tous les autres peuvent être confectionnés : c’est l’individualisme et la croyance très libérale à l’auto-fondation de l’individu. Pourquoi ? Parce qu’il sépare l’individu du groupe en faisant croire à l’individu qu’il est plus important que le groupe, aboutissant à fragmenter et morceler le corps social. La pointe fine du libéralisme est aujourd’hui représentée par le transhumanisme et la théorie de la « fluidité identitaire » dans tous les sens (genre, culture, âge, race, espèce), qui reposent sur le présupposé libéral de l’auto-fondation selon lequel l’individu ne reçoit pas son identité du groupe mais est libre de déterminer son identité et de la réinventer entièrement comme il le souhaite. Un homme peut dire « Je suis une femme », une femme peut dire « Je suis un homme », ce qui conduit à un phénomène d’éclatement du signe et du sens.

Ici, l’ingénierie sociale rejoint la sémiotique, la science des phénomènes de sens. Cette incohérence généralisée qui envahit l’Occident libéral est le résultat de ce que les sémiologues appellent l’éclatement du signe. Le signe linguistique, support de la pensée, a une structure ternaire, d’où le terme de triangle sémiotique. Les trois pointes de ce triangle, les trois ingrédients du sens sont le signifiant – ce que je dis ; le signifié – ce que je pense ; et le référent – ce que je montre. La pensée cohérente et rationnelle est l’unité de ces trois éléments : ce que je dis, ce que je pense, ce que je montre. Si l’on transpose le triangle sémiotique dans le champ éthique, le Bien est l’unité du signe, c’est-à-dire l’unité de ce que je dis, de ce que je pense et de ce que je fais, équivalent de ce que je montre. Du point de vue de la pensée classique et de la morale traditionnelle, le Bien est la cohérence et la convergence des trois éléments du triangle sémiotique. À l’opposé, le Mal est l’éclatement du signe : il n’y a plus d’unité de ce que je dis, de ce que je pense et de ce que je montre ou fais. Je peux dire quelque chose, penser autre chose et faire ou montrer encore autre chose, et tout ça, en même temps. C’est cette déstructuration cognitive qui est en train de s’installer en France et dont je vous parlais hier.

Nous souffrons d’incohérence et nous disons que c’est bien, stade suprême de l’incohérence. Cette incohérence cognitive a des conséquences dans la société et dans l’usage du langage. L’auto-fondation libérale touche l’acte d’énonciation du sujet parlant. La liberté doit être celle de me recréer à chaque seconde dans le langage, y compris par rapport à ce que je viens juste de dire. La liberté, c’est la liberté de me contredire à chaque seconde. La liberté, c’est la liberté de raconter n’importe quoi, de faire n’importe quoi. La liberté suprême, c’est l’incohérence. Donc la folie.

Pour conclure, je voudrais m’adresser spécifiquement aux Moldaves. Fondamentalement, c’est tout l’Occident collectif (Коллективный Запад), comme disent les Russes, qui est en train de disparaître. Depuis la France et l’Europe de l’Ouest, nous pouvons voir votre futur, du moins si vous commettez l’erreur d’entrer dans l’Union Européenne et l’OTAN. Cet avenir est un cauchemar, qui se résume en deux mots : effondrement et incohérence. Incohérence à tous les niveaux, en particulier incohérence mentale et comportementale. Confusion complète de la pensée, débouchant sur une violence verbale et physique sans raison. Excitation nerveuse, règne du n’importe quoi et pour finir aliénation, zombification et autodestruction. Si l’exemple français vous paraît un peu lointain, alors voyez ce qui se passe plus près de chez vous, chez votre voisin limitrophe immédiat, l’Ukraine, qui expérimente cette entrée dans le libéralisme et l’incohérence généralisée depuis son indépendance en 1991, mais surtout depuis 2004, avec la révolution orange, et 2014, avec l’Euro Maïdan. Aujourd’hui, l’Ukraine, comme la France, et comme tout l’Occident atlantiste, sont en cours d’effondrement à tous les niveaux. Il nous reste à mettre en œuvre une ingénierie sociale positive pour tout reconstruire.

Forum de Chișinău III. 21 septembre 2019. Présentation de livres d’auteurs français traduits en roumain et édités par l’Université populaire

https://flux.md/stiri/forum-de-chisinau-iiipresentation-d...

dimanche, 13 octobre 2019

Les livres de la dissidence française à Chișinău

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Les livres de la dissidence française à Chișinău

21 septembre 2019

 
Forum de Chișinău III. 21 septembre 2019.
Présentation de livres d'auteurs français traduits en roumain et édités par l'Université populaire.
 

La Catedral interior.

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La Catedral interior.

Carlos X. Blanco

Reseña del libro Que faire?, Vivre avec le déclin de l´Europe, Blue Tiger Media, Groningen, 2019; de David Engels.

Uno de los últimos números de la revista "Naves en Llamas", en concreto el sexto, llevaba por título "Todo está oscuro" [http://www.navesenllamas.com/2019/06/naves-en-llamas-n-6-todo-esta-oscuro.html]. En efecto, ver cómo se balcanizan países casi milenarios (pensemos en el nuestro, España), asistir impotentes a la islamización de Europa y a la invasión planificada por parte de "refugiados" bajo la mirada complaciente de nuestras élites, presenciar los incendios masivos en las periferias sin ley y la vulneración de los derechos más elementales de los nativos europeos, de las mujeres, de los "hospederos"… no es un plato de buen gusto y, bajo categorías spenglerianas, todo apunta a una disolución general del orden civilizatorio en el que centenares de generaciones de europeos hemos vivido hasta ahora. Todo se ha vuelto oscuro, y la portada del reciente libro de David Engels, Que faire? [Blue Tiger Media, Groningen, 2019] refleja el mismo hecho –triste y cargado de tétrico simbolismo- que la portada de la revista española: el incendio de la Catedral de Notre Dame.

DE-renovatio.jpgSi todas las semanas santas son periodos de recogimiento y tristeza, como manda el espíritu cristiano, ésta última de 2019 fue especialmente triste pues el incendio representó el punto más bajo en que una Civilización en crisis puede caer. Un punto de dejadez hacia nuestras instituciones medulares, un fuego que abrasará nuestros corazones podridos de molicie, consumismo y multiculturalismo. La foto de este pequeño (en extensión) pero gran libro (en profundidad y mensaje) puede parecer –en principio- que da paso a una jeremiada. Ya tuvimos ocasión de leer a Engels en numerosas ocasiones en La Tribuna del País Vasco y en Naves en Llamas. Al lector queremos remitirle un bellísimo artículo, que modestamente hemos traducido para este medio: "La Lágrima Ardiente de María" [https://latribunadelpaisvasco.com/art/10827/la-lagrima-ardiente-de-maria]. Pero ¿son lamentaciones y desesperos lo que nos transmite el prestigioso historiador y pensador belga? No. Nada de eso. Se trata de orientaciones, de consejos para la resistencia, se trata de armar la posibilidad de una Europa renovada.

Que faire? es una guía para tradicionalistas y conservadores resistentes. Resistentes en el doble sentido. Que "aguantan", que son fuertes en el sentido estoico del término. Que se oponen, que poseen armas para afrontar el ataque a una Civilización, resistentes en el sentido rebelde, también. El libro, inevitablemente, me recordó el colofón final de Un Samurai de Occidente, de Dominique Venner. Debe mirar cada uno hacia el interior de sí mismo, hacer de sí y de su propia familia una fortaleza inatacable. La familia y la comunidad local inmediata deben rehacer todas las viejas redes de solidaridad y educación mutua, levantar murallas ante agresiones y planificaciones de ingeniería social. La reconstrucción de Notre Dame debe ser el símbolo y el acicate para la "renovación espiritual interior, en la cual cada uno lleva su parte de responsabilidad" (p. 6).

Se trata de una especie de manual o breviario de auto-ayuda para europeos conscientes, para aquellos que "ven en Europa no sólo como noción geográfica, sino como una identidad cultural profunda, una percepción específica del mundo, un estilo de vida inimitable, en suma, una verdadera patria con toda la complejidad que esa palabra implica" (p. 7). David Engels, como historiador y filósofo spengleriano, asume un determinismo inherente a todas las civilizaciones (p. 8), en donde el declive de la nuestra, la europea, es previsible y susceptible de ser puesto en parangón con aquella crisis del siglo I a. C. acaecida en Roma. La República romana pútrida devino en cesarismo, y la edad imperial representó una sociedad menos libre, un amargo remedio para la crisis no ya política o económica, sino crisis civilizatoria. La crisis y el tránsito hacia el nuevo cesarismo se exhiben sintomáticamente en ajustes despóticos, donde la educación es férreamente controlada, así como los mass media y las redes sociales. Con la educación y los medios controlados, la desaparición de los europeos (incluso en el sentido físico) y sus signos identitarios, es ocultada cuando no ensalzada con júbilo masoquista y suicida (p.17). Pero, frente a otros textos que llaman a la resistencia política-colectiva, éste de Engels se centra en una resistencia puramente personal, en un nivel constructivo e individualista (p. 21). Hay motivos para que esto tenga que ser así. El Estado nacional debería ser un baluarte para la protección de los pueblos, un alcázar de altos y rocosos muros que les guarde sus tradiciones, su fe, su idiosincrasia… Debería, pero no lo va a hacer. Los Estados nacionales son ya herramientas en manos de poderes económicos, de oscuros tejemanejes plutocráticos que van a legislar cada vez más a favor de un multiculturalismo forzoso, de una autodisolución de la identidad europea, la cual, si hiciera falta, se ejecutará en breves años manu militari. Así pues, el de Engels es un breviario de resistencia sin fe en el Estado pues el Estado será cada vez más parte del problema, y no aliado del europeo (p. 31).

Que faire? es un manual de coraje. Todavía hoy podemos hacer –legalmente- muchos actos de resistencia, de desobediencia pasiva, de "no colaborar" con el suicidio inducido que nos han preparado esos poderes que odian la civilización cristiana y europea. Esa "no participación" se fundamenta en la creación –de nuevo- de relaciones honestas, confiadas, abiertas, y, por qué no decirlo, amorosas, entre los que son "nuestros" (p. 38). ¿Cómo no acordarse del distributismo de Chesterton y Belloc? ¿Cómo no evocar aquí la Comarca de Tolkien? Los poderes plutocráticos han reemplazado las catedrales por grandes supermercados y templos del consumo. Se vacían las iglesias y nos inundan con mezquitas. Pero la resistencia comienza desde dentro. Y un núcleo de familias y comunidades que rezan juntas, que aman la belleza y se aman mutuamente, que veneran la naturaleza y las gestas de sus mayores es un núcleo de hierro al que la molicie obligatoria y el declive, aparentemente inexorable, nunca vencerán.

Bello libro el del profesor Engels. Todo buen europeo debería leerlo. Una Nueva Notre Dame será reconstruida en el corazón de cada uno.

mardi, 08 octobre 2019

Jared Diamond’s Newest Book, In the Rough

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Jared Diamond’s Newest Book, In the Rough

The legendary author of 'Guns, Germs, and Steel' has produced a genuine mess of a book.

Upheaval: Turning Points for Nations in Crisis, May 2019, Jared Diamond, Little, Brown and Company, 512 pages

51kmp8J8CgL._SX321_BO1,204,203,200_.jpgJared Diamond is phoning it in. The legendary author of Guns, Germs, and Steel—the epic 1997 account of how Earth’s geography helped to determine the fates of the peoples who inhabit it—has produced a genuine mess of a book.

The shtick of his new tome, Upheaval, is to draw a connection between personal crises and national crises. Diamond’s wife is a clinical psychologist trained in crisis therapy, and largely through her he discovered 12 techniques that professionals try to encourage among their patients. Someone facing a crisis should mentally build a wall separating the actual problem from other things in life that are fine, seek help from friends, model one’s response on solutions others have found effective, decide which of one’s values are truly non-negotiable, etc., etc. Diamond adapts these techniques for national use, explores some case studies in which countries faced crises, and effectively grades each country on how well it applied the techniques—the last of which is an unenlightening exercise, rarely providing insights the reader didn’t already pick up from the case study itself. Then, after a few chapters on current crises such as climate change, nuclear war, and . . . political polarization . . . the book mercifully ends.

Those final chapters focused on the current day are the book’s weakest aspect; they are bland except when they antagonize the reader with bold—or downright laughable—assertions backed up with little evidence. Diamond is very confident that another round of urban riots lurks in America’s near future, thanks to inequality; he thinks we are closer to nuclear war than we have been since the Cuban Missile Crisis; he says the United States is failing his criterion of “honest self-appraisal” because there isn’t “widespread agreement that our fundamental problems are polarization, voter turnout and obstacles to voter registration, inequality and declining socio-economic mobility, and declining government investment in education and public goods.” (Not all of these “fundamental problems” are even real!)

The rest of the book is less aggravating but fails to cohere. His sample of countries, as he admits, is not meant to represent the world as a whole, or even to spotlight the biggest national crises that modern nations have dealt with. Instead, it’s just a handful of nations Diamond happens to know well, and some of the “crises” stretch the meaning of the word. It’s interesting, for example, that after World War II Germany and Japan dealt with the legacy of their horrific war crimes in very different ways. But coming to terms with a disturbing national history over a period of several generations isn’t really a crisis.

What’s a reader to do, if not skip Upheaval entirely? The best option is to read the book selectively. Diamond’s first two case studies, that of Meiji Japan and that of Finland after World War II, are fascinating accounts of nations that were abruptly forced to deal with far stronger foes—and that got through it with a careful, if sometimes humiliating, application of realist foreign policy. Both countries did what was in their national interest, and operated on the assumption that other nations would do the same. As Finland’s President Urho Kekkonen once put it, the goal was “to reconcile the existence of our nation with the interests which dominate [our] geopolitical environment.”

On July 8, 1853, everything changed in Japan. The country was more or less isolated, with little foreign influence and little need for trade; it was led by a shogun and divided into feudal domains. But on that day, at the behest of President Millard Fillmore, Commodore Matthew Perry arrived with technologically advanced gunships and an offer one can’t refuse: Japan would open its ports to American use, or it would be attacked with overwhelming force, and the Japanese had until the following year to decide.

Perry’s return voyage arrived in February 1854, and Japan relented, knowing it could not win a war with the United States. It soon ended up opening its ports to the British, Dutch, and Russians, too—and starting in 1858 was forced into “unequal treaties” with these countries that relegated Japan to second-class status. (The most insulting detail was that foreigners on Japanese soil were not bound by Japanese laws, a concession these countries did not grant to Japan in return and did not require of each other.) But after a tumultuous period that included a wave of domestic assassinations, a coup, and a civil war, Japan set about developing itself so that it could stand up to the West.

Japan’s Meiji Restoration, which began with the aforementioned coup in 1868, is a striking illustration of how a country can bend to reality without fully breaking with its traditions. It was a crash course of modernization in which Japan borrowed the elements of other societies best suited for Japanese life: a British-style navy; a German-style army, constitution, and schools; some experimentation with other Western nations’ practices too. Yet other aspects of its culture remained the same: it kept its emperor and its strong religious traditions. And soon enough, Japan was able to build up its military and industrial capabilities, thereby gain better footing in negotiations with the West, and throw off the unequal treaties. No one wants to abandon a way of life under physical threat from abroad, but Japan avoided a war it was bound to lose by giving into demands it lacked the power to resist, and eventually restored its honor.

Finland’s experience is similar but even more harrowing. As World War II approached, Finland was a poor country that only recently had begun to take note of the USSR, with which it shared a long border to its east: a problematic geography, because the Soviets feared an attack by European powers via Finland. When in 1939 Stalin demanded Finnish territory (to push its border further away from Leningrad) and a naval base, the Finns resisted, suspecting the true goal was to take over Finland entirely. At the end of November that year, the USSR attacked.

The Finns held back the Soviets by taking advantage of their knowledge of the geography—hoping that allies would come to help eventually. That didn’t happen. After a renewed Soviet push in 1940, Finland gave in to harsher demands than it had rejected the year before. The following year, though, it was at war with the USSR once again, alongside the Nazis, whom it termed “co-belligerents” rather than “allies.” What followed was a series of victories and defeats that ended with more concessions to the USSR and a campaign in which Finns drove the once-useful Germans back out of their country. All told, the Finns lost 100,000, or about 5 percent of the male population.

The question was how to deal with the post-war reality, and Finland’s solution inspired the derisive term “Finlandization”: It bent over backwards to keep the USSR happy, being keenly aware that (A) it could not win a head-on war against the Soviets to stave off annexation, if it came to that, and (B) it also could not depend on other Western powers to help, if history was any guide. This approach allowed Finland to exist as a liberal democracy right next door to the Evil Empire.

But it involved swallowing a whole lot of pride. By way of a retroactive law, Finland prosecuted the leaders who’d been in charge during the war against the USSR. It paid “reparations” to the Soviets, which in Diamond’s words involved “individual Finns contributing their jewelry and gold wedding rings.” It agreed to import inferior Soviet goods. A Finnish publishing house backed off from its plans to publish The Gulag Archipelago. In 1971, the Finnish government chastised a newspaper for publishing a truth that offended the USSR (that the Soviets had occupied the Baltic Republics in 1939), but in general journalists needed no such chiding because they self-censored any criticism of the country’s eastern neighbor.

It is lost to history, of course, what would have happened had Finland taken a less pliant stance—whether other Western countries would have been more helpful in the context of the Cold War, whether the USSR would have risked military action with nuclear war hanging in the air. What’s undeniable is that Finland avoided a Soviet takeover, maintained its capitalist system, and preserved most of its liberalism as well. American readers will mostly be grateful that immensely powerful countries rarely have to consider such tradeoffs.

Upheaval is a bizarre jumble of anecdotes and ideas that fails to leave readers with a clear message. But at times it manages to tell stories that are worthy of careful reflection.  

Robert VerBruggen is a deputy managing editor of National Review.

23:44 Publié dans Actualité, Histoire, Livre, Livre | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : livre, histoire, jared diamond | |  del.icio.us | | Digg! Digg |  Facebook

dimanche, 06 octobre 2019

The Roots of Liberalism’s Contemporary Crisis

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The Roots of Liberalism’s Contemporary Crisis

Patrick J. Deneen
Why Liberalism Failed
New Haven, Ct./New York: Yale University Press, 2018

Patrick Deneen, a Professor of Political Science at the University of Notre Dame, wrote the present study in 2016, completing it shortly before Donald Trump’s election. In February 2019, a paperbound edition with a few revisions and a new Preface was published.

Why Liberalism Failed is a study comparing the basic assumptions of Lockean liberalism with its historical results as revealed in our own time.

Now, as the author points out, not everything we think of as liberalism originated in early modern times:

Many of the institutional forms of government that we today associate with liberalism were at least initially conceived and developed over long centuries preceding the modern age, including constitutionalism, separation of powers, separate spheres of church and state, rights and protections against arbitrary rule, federalism, rule of law, and limited government. Protection of rights of individuals and the belief in inviolable human dignity, if not always consistently recognized and practiced, were nevertheless philosophical achievements of premodern medieval Europe. Some scholars regard liberalism simply as the natural development, and indeed the culmination, of protoliberal thinking and this long period of development, and not as any sort of radical break from premodernity. (23)

However, there was certainly a significant conceptual break with classical ethico-political thought in the seventeenth century. Previous to this break, the tradition of thought stemming from Plato, Aristotle, Cicero, and their Christian heirs held liberty to be

the condition of self-governance, whether achieved by the individual or by a political community. Because self-rule was achieved only with difficulty – requiring an extensive habituation in virtue, particularly self-command and self-discipline over base but insistent appetites – the achievement of liberty required constraints upon individual choice. This limitation was achieved not primarily through promulgated law – though law had its place – but through extensive social norms in the form of custom. (xiii)

Classical and Christian ethical thought centered on “the duties of one’s station,” that “station” being the specific manner in which each person was embedded (usually from birth) in the larger social formations of family, economic class, and local community, each with its own preexisting customs and traditions.

This station in society was integral to one’s personal identity; one could no more exist outside that context than a tree could live without soil or light. Since desire is infinitely expansible, but the world is finite and must be shared with others, the desires of the individual must be limited by considerations of the common good. Hence, the duty to govern one’s appetites. Law stepped in only to deal with cases where self-control and habituation had failed.

The modern break from this tradition had a number of dimensions, but Deneen emphasizes three: first, the rejection of self-control through reason and habituation in favor of a paradigm in which the “pride, selfishness, greed and the quest for glory” of different groups within a society are harnessed to check the same passions in other groups (Machiavelli); second, traditional social, religious, economic, and familial structures, formerly “viewed as essential supports for a training in virtue, and hence preconditions for liberty,” came to be reinterpreted as sources of oppression, arbitrariness, and conflict from which individuals were to be liberated through rationally-based positive law (Descartes and Hobbes); and third, the understanding of nature as a cosmos of which man is a part was rejected in favor of a fundamental opposition between man and nature, with the latter serving as raw materials for human activity for “the easing of man’s estate” and the increase of his power (Bacon).

The protoliberal philosopher Thomas Hobbes even denied that rational self-control was possible: “Thoughts, are to the Desires, as Scouts, and Spies, to range abroad, and find the way to the things Desired.” Consistent with this understanding of man, Hobbes denied that liberty could meaningfully be understood as anything more than an absence of interference with desire: “if a man should talk to me of a free will, or any free, but free from being hindered by opposition, I should not say he were in an error, but that his words were without meaning, that is to say, absurd.” As Deneen comments: “liberalism in many cases attained its ends by redefining shared words and concepts and, through that redefinition, colonizing existing institutions with fundamentally different anthropological assumptions.”

Of course, Hobbes and his liberal successors understood that desires must be checked for society to function. But they made a conscious choice in favor of external constraints, holding that “the only limitation on liberty should be duly enacted laws consistent with maintaining order of otherwise unfettered individuals” (xiii). Freedom existed wherever the law was silent, and except as limited by law, desire might be satisfied without limit. Wealth, for example, could be safely maximized: “The public stock cannot be too great for the public use,” Hobbes wrote.

In a sense, though Deneen does not state this, the modern ethico-political conceptions are more primitive and probably older than those of classical thought. Even today the average child would have no difficulty grasping the concept of freedom as the absence of interference, or that of thought as a tool of desire. Understanding the concept of self-mastery requires greater maturity, and probably came along later in history, just as it does in the life of the average person. Pace Hobbes, however, it is both meaningful and observable: Anyone who has known a person unable to keep a credit card without getting himself deeply into debt can see that the classical concept of bondage to desire – and its corresponding ideal of liberty as self-mastery – is no absurdity. In modern psychology, conscientiousness is one of the five major dimensions of personality. Liberalism is based on an anthropological falsehood.

It has certainly revolutionized the world and produced at least some good effects, however. The most full-throated celebration of liberalism is known as the “Whig interpretation of history” that, in Deneen’s words, goes something like this:

The advent of liberalism marks the end of a benighted age, the liberation of humanity from darkness, the overcoming of oppression and arbitrary inequality, the descent of monarchy and aristocracy, the advance of prosperity and modern technology, and the advent of an age of nearly unbroken progress. Liberalism is credited with the cessation of religious war, the opening of an age of tolerance and equality, the expanding spheres of personal opportunity that today culminate in globalization and the ongoing victories over sexism, racism, colonialism, heteronormativity and a host of other prejudices. (27-28)

Of course, the notion that the distinction between men and women is an arbitrary prejudice from which the state must liberate us is a good clue that liberalism has turned into a Frankenstein’s monster which is now out to devour its creator.

As Deneen sees it, liberalism has quietly remade the world in its own image, converting human beings into monadic individual wills impatient of restraint, accepting no duties they have not themselves chosen, and looking to the state to “liberate” them from the claims of their fellow man. Referring to Karl Polanyi’s The Great Transformation (1944), he writes:

The individual as a disembodied, self-interested economic actor didn’t exist in any actual state of nature but rather was the creation of an elaborate intervention by the incipient state in early modernity. Economic arrangements were separated from particular cultural and religious contexts in which those arrangements were understood to serve moral ends [such as] the sustenance of community order and the flourishing of families within that order. The replacement of this economy required a deliberate and often violent reshaping… most often by elite economic and state actors disrupting traditional practices. The “individuation” or people required people’s acceptance that their labor and its products were commodities subject to price mechanisms, a transformative way of considering people and nature alike in newly utilitarian and individualistic terms. This process was repeated countless times in the history of modern political economy: in efforts to eradicate the medieval guilds, in the enclosure controversy, in state suppression of “Luddites,” in state support for owners over organized labor, and in government efforts to empty the nation’s farmlands via mechanized, industrial farming. (51-52)

This emphasis on the ways both state power and market forces have been harnessed by liberalism constitutes one of the great merits of Deneen’s book. As he observes, most of today’s political debate opposes a “pro-market Right” to a “pro-state Left;” i.e., it occurs within liberalism, so that whichever side wins, the liberal project is advanced.

Liberalism is fundamentally hostile to culture which, properly speaking, consists in precisely the traditional social, religious, economic, and familial structures from which the individual is to be liberated. Culture is a “set of generational customs, practices and rituals that are grounded in local and particular settings” (64). It at once looks past the present generation and binds people to a social and geographical place. Liberalism abstracts from both time and place, fostering “a new experience of time as a pastless present in which the future is a foreign land; and . . . [rendering] place fungible and bereft of definitional meaning” (66).

A healthy culture is akin to healthy agriculture . . . that takes into account local conditions intends to maintain fecundity over generation, and so must work with the facts of given nature, not approach nature as an obstacle to the attainment of one’s unbounded appetites. Modern industrialized agriculture works on the liberal model that apparent natural limits are to be overcome through short-term solutions whose consequences will be left for future generations. (70)

Liberalism makes humanity into mayflies, and unsurprisingly, its culmination has led each generation to accumulate scandalous levels of debt to be left for its children, while rapacious exploitation of resources continues in the progressive belief that future generations will devise a way to deal with the depletions. (74)

Deneen mentions that there were once laws “forbidding banks to open branches in communities outside where they were based, premised on a belief that the granting and acceptance of debt rested on trust and local knowledge.” He quotes a banker’s 1928 characterization of the business he was in: “the community as a whole demands of the banker that he shall be an honest observer of conditions around him, that he shall make constant and careful study of those conditions, financial, economic, social and political, and that he shall have a wide vision over them all.” The economic crash of 2008 was in part the result of the elimination of such cultural norms “that existed to regulate and govern the granting and procuring of mortgages” (86). The response to the disaster, predictably, was a call for more governmental regulation, not any renewed reliance on local knowledge and responsibility. Most of us have simply lost any ability to think outside the liberal opposition of state and market forces.

What used to be called the American Dream was roughly a country where every man of normal capacity with a willingness to work could afford to support a wife and family, own a home and car, and take the children to the beach every summer. The realization of such a social vision in the middle of the last century was ascribed at the time (i.e., during the Cold War) largely to America’s free enterprise system. Now that this way of life is lost to us, we can better perceive that it also depended on certain limitations to the rule of market forces: viz., legalized discrimination against working women (the reservation of “family wage” jobs to men), restrictions on immigration (especially by the low-skilled), trade unionism and collective bargaining, as well as greater obstacles to foreign “outsourcing.” We have liberalism to thank for tearing all these supports away.

In compensation, it has given us the cheapness of the junk at Walmart. Economist Tyler Cowen believes that the rise of the talented few “will make it easier to ignore those who are left behind.” He has actually proposed constructing subsidized favelas where the losers of the liberal economic order – the majority of the population – can while away the years between birth and death with distractions such as free internet: “We might even look ahead to a time when the cheap or free fun is so plentiful that it will feel a bit like Karl Marx’s communist utopia, albeit brought on by capitalism.” He describes this nightmare scenario as “the light at the end of the tunnel” (141).

Deneen notes the irony that an economic system which has sacrificed everything to individual autonomy has come to seem even to the most talented like an impersonal form of bondage, a rat race from which there is no escape. He reports a typical student telling him:

If we do not race to the very top, the only remaining option is a bottomless pit of failure. To spend time in intellectual conversation in moral or philosophical issues or to go on a date all detract from time we could be spending on getting to the top and thus will leave us worse off relative to everyone else. (11-12)

Under our “meritocratic” education system, “elite universities engage in the educational equivalent of strip mining: identifying economically valuable raw materials in every city, town, and hamlet, they strip off that valuable commodity, process it in a different location, and render the products economically useful for productivity elsewhere.” But just how long are our economically valuable processed materials going to remain productive for us if they no longer even have time to go on dates? Meanwhile, “the places that supplied the raw materials are left much like depressed coal towns whose mineral wealth has been long since mined and exported” (132).

Education in the service of economic productivity is seen as “practical” but, as Deneen observes, this is to ignore the “more capacious way of understanding ‘practical’ to include how one lives as a spouse, parent, neighbor, citizen, and human being.” The abstract babbling about “social justice” on university campuses encourage functions as a replacement for the genuine social duties students no longer have.

Meanwhile, “conservative” legislatures are gutting the humanities offerings at state-supported schools in the name of cost-cutting. One liberal administrator has perceptively described the mindset: “They’ve decided that rather than defending Edmund Burke, it’s easier just to run Intro to Business online and call it a day.”

Deneen is not optimistic about the prospects for a political solution to the crisis of liberalism, warning that “the likely popular reaction to an increasingly oppressive liberal order might be forms of authoritarian illiberalism that would promise citizens power over those forces that no longer seemed under their control: government, economy, and the dissolution of social norms.” I believe this is correct. The best near-term political fix would likely be a Caesarism similar to what Donald Trump promised but failed to deliver in America. As Deneen says,

the “limited government” of liberalism today would provoke jealousy and amazement from tyrants of old, who could only dream of such extensive capacities for surveillance and control of movement, finances, and even deeds and thoughts.

Could the “illiberal democracy” endorsed by Viktor Orbán really be any worse?

In the longer term, the answer to our problems is not to be found in politics at all:

There is evidence of growing hunger for an organic alternative to the cold, bureaucratic, and mechanized world liberalism has to offer. While especially evident in the remnants of orthodox religious traditions, . . . the building up of practices of care, patience, humility, reverence, respect, and modesty is also evident among people of no particular religious belief, homesteaders and “radical homemakers” who are seeking within households and local communities to rediscover old practices that foster forms of culture liberalism otherwise seeks to eviscerate. Often called a counterculture, such efforts should better understand themselves as a counter-anticulture. (191-192)

As advanced liberalism throws ever more people into economic and familial instability, and our ever-increasing individual autonomy leaves us (as Tocqueville predicted) both “independent and weak,” “such communities of practice will increasingly be seen as lighthouses and field hospitals to those who might once have regarded them as peculiar and suspect” (197).

 

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URL to article: https://www.counter-currents.com/2019/10/the-roots-of-liberalisms-contemporary-crisis/

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mardi, 01 octobre 2019

Iranian Leviathan

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Iranian Leviathan

Iranian Leviathan

Author(s): Jason Reza Jorjani

A Monumental History of Mithra’s Abode

No other nation on Earth has contributed more to the elevation of the human spirit, and to the enrichment of every aspect of civilization on a global scale, than Iran. Some of the most defining scientific, religious, and cultural characteristics of both the Eastern and Western Worlds actually owe their origin to Iran, let alone the contributions that Iran has made to the formation of the so-called “Islamic World.” The latter is almost entirely Iranian in terms of its high culture, and if “Islamic Civilization” is to have any future at all, it needs to be transformed back into Iranian Civilization.

That is the impression that one is left with after reading this monumental history of Iran, not just as a country, but as a vast civilization encompassing many related cultures and ethnicities. It is the first history of Iran ever written from a philosophical perspective. In other words, far from being a textbook history, this study aims to discern the inner meaning of Iran and the spiritual destiny of the Iranians or Eastern Aryans.

As an original work of Philosophy, Iranian Leviathan explores fundamental concepts in the realm of metaphysics, epistemology, ethics, and political philosophy. With respect to socio-political thought, this philosophical history lays the groundwork for the ideological program of an Iranian Renaissance. This is a bold and unapologetic vision, not only for the revitalization of culture within Greater Iran, but also for the reestablishment of Iran as an imperial hegemon and global superpower in our time.

00:20 Publié dans Livre, Livre, Philosophie, Traditions | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : iran, mithra, mithraïsme, philosophie, tradition | |  del.icio.us | | Digg! Digg |  Facebook

mardi, 24 septembre 2019

Carl Schmitt par Georges FELTIN-TRACOL

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Carl Schmitt

par Georges FELTIN-TRACOL

L’intervention de cette Rentrée porte sur une personnalité considérée par la novlangue inclusive officielle comme « sulfureuse » et « controversée ». Né en juillet 1888 à Plettenberg dans cette Rhénanie qui appartient à la Prusse depuis le Congrès de Vienne en 1814 – 1815, Carl Schmitt fut un juriste réputé. Il fut aussi un remarquable spécialiste du droit constitutionnel.

Ce n’est pourtant pas le plus grand penseur du droit politique du XXe siècle qui nous intéresse aujourd’hui. C’est l’Européen digne qui épousa d’abord la Tchèque Paula Dorotic, puis une fois le divorce obtenu, la Serbe orthodoxe Duschka Todorovic. En 2017, Aristide Leucate a publié dans la collection « Qui suis-je ? » chez Pardès une sobre et belle biographie. Trois ans auparavant, sous la direction de Serge Sur sortait aux CNRS – Éditions un ensemble de contributions remarquables intitulé Carl Schmitt. Concepts et usages. Enfin, l’an passé, les magistrales Éditions du Lore ont fait paraître Sur et autour de Carl Schmitt. Un monument revisité par Robert Steuckers.

Outre trois textes d’hommage au professeur Piet Tommissen (1925 – 2011), grand ami de Julien Freund, ce nouvel ouvrage évoque non seulement l’œuvre et les concepts du penseur allemand, mais aussi ses sources (Clausewitz, Gustav Ratzenhofer) et sa postérité outre-Rhin, en particulier chez le théoricien de la nation allemande Bernard Willms (1931 – 1991). Par son prussianisme indéniable, son catholicisme intransigeant, son soutien critique au national-socialisme et son approche révolutionnaire-conservatrice (Robert Steuckers a raison de lire les écrits de Gilles Deleuze à l’aune de Schmitt et réciproquement), Carl Schmitt occupe toujours une position intellectuelle majeure, malgré la marginalité de sa troisième partie de sa vie de ses deux détentions consécutives par les forces d’occupation alliées en 1946 – 47 jusqu’à sa mort dans sa ville natale en avril 1985.

Dans le cadre de la présente chronique, on s’intéressera au géopoliticien visionnaire du « Grand Espace ». Prolongement de la Mitteleuropa, de l’harmonisation économique et douanière des empires allemand et austro-hongrois avant 1914, le « Grand Espace » envisage l’organisation politique, sociale et économique des continents ou de parties continentales. Prenant acte dès 1945 de la faillite du système westphalien – ce que ne comprennent toujours pas les souverainistes français –, Carl Schmitt réfléchit à un nouvel ordre diplomatique mondial qu’il appelle le « Nomos de la Terre », titre de son maître – ouvrage paru en 1950. Le « Grand Espace » transcende l’État au sens classique du terme dans un cadre continental et/ou impérial. C’est une solution ambitieuse et volontariste. « L’Europe d’aujourd’hui est contrainte de répondre à un double défi, note Robert Steuckers, d’une part, s’unifier au-delà de tous les vieux antagonismes stato-nationaux, pour survivre en tant que civilisation, et d’autre part, renouer avec son tissu pluriel, extrêmement bigarré, dans un jeu permanent d’ancrages, de réancrages et d’arrachements projectuels (p. 87). »

Le « Grand Espace » s’inspire ouvertement de la doctrine Monroe qui exige en 1823 la fin de toute emprise européenne en Amérique. Une fois le « Grand Espace » européen réalisé, « les affaires critiques européennes ne regarderaient que les Européens, explique David Cumin dans Carl Schmitt. Concepts et usages, à l’exclusion des autres Puissances. Par conséquent, réciprocité oblige, celles des Arabes ne regarderaient que les Arabes, celles de l’Afrique noire, que l’Afrique noire, celles des Américains ou des Asiatiques, que les Américains ou les Asiatiques, à l’exclusion des Puissances européennes. Les États-Unis seraient expulsés d’Europe, comme la France de l’Afrique noire… (p. 41) ».

Le « Grand Espace » constitue donc une réponse valable autant à l’aberration cosmopolite de la mondialisation qu’à l’illusion mortelle du bunker national. Carl Schmitt ne défendait pas un simple monde multipolaire. Il concevait à rebours de tous les universalismes fomentés en partie par certains cénacles de la philosophie des Lumières le pluriversum, c’est-à-dire un univers de civilisations différenciées dynamique, conflictuel et vivant. Une perception plus que jamais d’avenir !

Georges Feltin-Tracol

• Chronique n° 28, « Les grandes figures identitaires européennes », lue le 10 septembre 2019 à Radio-Courtoisie au « Libre-Journal des Européens » de Thomas Ferrier.

Livre disponible auprès des éditions du Lore: https://ladiffusiondulore.fr

jeudi, 12 septembre 2019

Lovecraft’s At the Mountains of Madness

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Lovecraft’s At the Mountains of Madness

H. P. Lovecraft’s novella At the Mountains of Madness, serialized in Astounding in 1936, is one of his greatest works. The tale recounts an expedition to Antarctica in 1930 in which scholars from Miskatonic University stumble upon the ruins of a lost city. Their examination of the site paints a vivid picture of this once-great civilization, whose history reflects Lovecraft’s own political and social views.

Lovecraft had a lifelong fascination with the Antarctic and was an avid reader of Antarctic fiction. Among the books that influenced him were W. Frank Russell’s The Frozen Pirate, James De Mille’s A Strange Manuscript Found in a Copper Cylinder, and Edgar Allen Poe’s novel The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket (the conclusion takes place in the Antarctic), from which he borrowed the cry of “Tekeli-li!”

The story is narrated by William Dyer, a geology professor at Miskatonic University and the leader of the expedition. The purpose of the expedition is to collect fossils with the aid of a high-tech drill invented by an engineering professor at the university. Along with more typical findings, they detect a triangular marking imprinted upon fragments of rock. Dyer claims that this is merely evidence of striations, but a certain Professor Lake unearths more prints and wishes to follow their lead.

HPL-mountains.jpgA group led by Lake sets off to investigate the source of the prints and discovers the remains of fourteen mysterious amphibious specimens with star-shaped heads, wings, and triangular feet. They are highly evolved creatures, with five-lobed brains, yet the stratum in which they were found indicates that they are about forty million years old. Shortly thereafter, Lake and his team (with the exception of one man) are slaughtered. When Dyer and the others arrive at the scene, they find six of the specimens buried in large “snow graves” and learn that the remaining specimens have vanished, along with several other items. Additionally, the planes and mechanical devices at the camp were tampered with. Dyer concludes that the missing man simply went mad, wreaked havoc upon the camp, and then ran away.

The following day, Dyer and a graduate student named Danforth embark on a flight across the mountains. The two discover a labyrinthine ancient megalopolis consisting of gargantuan fortifications and dark, titanic stone structures of various shapes (cones, pyramids, cubes, cylinders). Upon entering “that cavernous, aeon-dead honeycomb of primal masonry” through a gap left by a fallen bridge, they find that the interiors are adorned with intricate carvings chronicling the history of the city. They realize that the city’s inhabitants must have been the “Old Ones” (more precisely, the Elder Things) extraterrestrial beings described in the Necronomicon. 

The Old Ones were highly intelligent creatures who possessed advanced technology and had a sophisticated understanding of science. They came to the Antarctic Ocean from outer space soon after the moon was formed. They were responsible for the creation of shoggoths, “shapeless entities composed of a viscous jelly which looked like an agglutination of bubbles.” The shoggoths were unintelligent, slavish creatures designed to serve the Old Ones, who controlled them through hypnosis.

The Old Ones warred with Cthulhu spawn until Cthulhu cities (including R’lyeh) sank into the Pacific Ocean. The invasion of a species called the Mi-go during the Jurassic period prompted another war in which the Old Ones were driven out of northern lands back into their original Antarctic habitat.

Over time, the civilization of the Old Ones began to enter a dark age. The shoggoths mutated, broke their masters’ control over them, and rebelled. The carvings also allude to an even greater evil hailing from lofty mountains where no one ever dared to venture. The advent of an ice age that drove the Old Ones to abandon the city and settle underwater cemented their slow demise. For the construction of their new settlement, the Old Ones simply transplanted portions of their land city to the ocean floor, symbolizing their artistic decline and lack of ingenuity.

The carvings of the Old Ones became coarse and ugly, a parody of what they once had been. Dyer and Danforth attribute their aesthetic decline to the intrusion of something foreign and alien:

We could not get it out of our minds that some subtly but profoundly alien element had been added to the aesthetic feeling behind the technique—an alien element, Danforth guessed, that was responsible for the laborious substitution. It was like, yet disturbingly unlike, what we had come to recognize as the Old Ones’ art; and I was persistently reminded of such hybrid things as the ungainly Palmyrene sculptures fashioned in the Roman manner.

The squawking of a penguin beckons Dyer and Danforth to a dark tunnel, where they find the mutilated bodies of Old Ones who were brutally murdered and decapitated by shoggoths. They are covered in thick, black slime, the sight of which imparts Dyer with cosmic terror. He and Danforth flee the site and climb aboard the plane. Danforth glances backward and comes face-to-face with something so horrifying that he has a nervous breakdown and becomes insane.

The dichotomy between the Old Ones and the shoggoths reflects Lovecraft’s racial views. Lovecraft’s universe is a hierarchical one. The Old Ones are noble, highly evolved creatures who excel in art and technology. The shoggoths, meanwhile, are horrifyingly ugly and possess limited cognitive capabilities. Indeed, Lovecraft’s description of the shoggoths is nearly indistinguishable from this colorful description of inhabitants of the Lower East Side from one of his letters:

 . . . monstrous and nebulous adumbrations of the pithecanthropoid and amoebal; vaguely moulded from some stinking viscous slime of earth’s corruption, and slithering and oozing in and on the filthy streets or in and out of windows and doorways in a fashion suggestive of nothing but infesting worms or deep-sea unnamabilities.[1]

The Old Ones, despite being extraterrestrial beings, do not represent alien horrors. By the end of the book, Dyer exclaims, in awe of their civilization: “Radiates, vegetables, monstrosities, star-spawn—whatever they had been, they were men!” The great evil glimpsed by Danforth is the same evil feared by the Old Ones, and it is that which is embodied by the shoggoths.

Even the realization that the Old Ones slaughtered Lake and the others does not change this perception. When Dyer finds the corpse of the missing explorer (and his dog), he takes note of the care with which the Old Ones dissected and preserved the corpse. He admires their scientific approach and compares them to the scholars they killed.

The fact that the Old Ones’ demise was caused, in part, by their failure to subjugate the shoggoths could be a commentary on the horrors let loose by the emancipation of black slaves in America, or perhaps on Bolshevik revolts. The idea of a golem revolt also has a modern-day parallel in the possibility of malign artificial intelligence (see the paperclip problem).

That said, Lovecraft is not particularly concerned with how the Old Ones’ decline might have been averted. He shares Spengler’s view that civilizations are comparable to organisms and pass through an inevitable cycle of youth, manhood, and old age.

Spengler’s theories about history had a strong influence on Lovecraft. He read the first volume of Decline of the West in February 1927. In 1928, he remarked:

Spengler is right, I feel sure, in classifying the present phase of Western civilisation as a decadent one; for racial-cultural stamina shines more brightly in art, war, and prideful magnificence than in the arid intellectualism, engulfing commercialism, and pointless material luxury of an age of standardization and mechanical invention like the one now well on its course.[2]

In another letter, he writes: “It is my belief—and was so long before Spengler put his seal of scholarly approval on it—that our mechanical and industrial age is one of frank decadence; so far removed from normal life and ancestral conditions as to make impossible its expression in artistic media.”[3]

The word “decadent” appears many times in At the Mountains of Madness. While the oldest structure they encounter exhibits an artistry “surpassing anything else,” the later art “would be called decadent by comparison.”

Lovecraft’s description of the Old Ones’ government as “probably socialistic” reflects his growing disillusionment with laissez-faire capitalism. He may have been influenced by Spengler in this regard as well. He uses the term “fascistic socialism” in A Shadow Out of Time.

Another influence on At the Mountains of Madness was the Russian painter, archaeologist, and mystic Nicholas Roerich. Roerich is mentioned numerous times throughout the book, and Lovecraft’s prose is evocative of his haunting landscapes. One passage in particular brought to mind Roerich’s Path to Shambhala: “Distant mountains floated in the sky as enchanted cities, and often the whole white world would dissolve into a gold, silver, and scarlet land of Dunsanian dreams and adventurous expectancy under the magic of the low midnight sun.”

The ending of the book contains a harrowing portrait of one of Lovecraft’s most terrifying creations. The eldritch horror of the shoggoth represents, in distilled form, modernity and its pathologies. “Its first results we behold today,” he wrote in 1928, “though the depths of its cultural darkness are reserved for the torture of later generations.”[4]

Notes

1. H. P. Lovecraft, Selected Letters I.333-34.

2. II.228.

3. II.103-104.

4. II.305.

 

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mercredi, 11 septembre 2019

Mishima’s Life for Sale

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Mishima’s Life for Sale

Yukio Mishima
Life for Sale
Translated by Stephen Dodd
London: Penguin Books, 2019

This past year has seen three new English translations of novels by Yukio Mishima: The Frolic of the Beasts, Star, and now Life for Sale, a pulpy, stylish novel that offers an incisive satire of post-war Japanese society.

Mishima’s extensive output includes both high-brow literary and dramatic works (jun bungaku, or “pure literature”) and racy potboilers (taishu bungaku, or “popular literature”). Life for Sale belongs to the latter category and will introduce English readers to this lesser-known side of Mishima. Despite being a popular novel, though, it broaches serious themes that can also be found in Mishima’s more sophisticated works.

YM-life.jpg27-year-old Hanio Yamada, the protagonist, is a Tokyo-based copywriter who makes a decent living and leads a normal life. But his work leaves him unfulfilled. He later remarks that his job was “a kind of death: a daily grind in an over-lit, ridiculously modern office where everyone wore the latest suits and never got their hands dirty with proper work” (p. 67). One day, while reading the newspaper on the subway, he suddenly is struck by an overwhelming desire to die. That evening, he overdoses on sedatives.

When his suicide attempt fails, Hanio comes up with another idea. He places the following advertisement in the newspaper: “Life for Sale. Use me as you wish. I am a twenty-seven-year-old male. Discretion guaranteed. Will cause no bother at all” (p. 7). The advertisement sets in motion an exhilarating series of events involving adultery, murder, toxic beetles, a female “vampire,” a wasted heiress, poisonous carrots, espionage, and mobsters.

In one episode, Hanio is asked to provide services for a single mother who has already gone through a dozen boyfriends. It turns out that the woman has a taste for blood. Every night, she cuts Hanio with a knife and sucks on the wound. She occasionally takes Hanio on walks, keeping him bound to her with a golden chain. Hanio lives with the woman for a while, and her son remarks, rather poignantly, that the three of them could be a family. The scene calls to mind the modern Japanese practice of “renting” companions and family members.

By the end of the vampire gig, Hanio is severely ill and on the verge of death. Yet he is entirely indifferent to this fact: “The thought that his own life was about to cease cleansed his heart, the way peppermint cleanses the mouth” (p. 83). His existence is bland and meaningless, devoid of both “sadness and joy.”

When Hanio returns to his apartment to pick up his mail, he finds a letter from a former classmate admonishing him for the advertisement:

What on earth do you hope to attain by holding your life so cheaply? For an all too brief time before the war, we considered our lives worthy of sacrifice to the nation as honourable Japanese subjects. They called us common people “the nation’s treasure.” I take it you are in the business of converting your life into filthy lucre only because, in the world we inhabit, money reigns supreme. (p. 79)

With the little strength he has remaining, Hanio tears the letter into pieces.

Hanio survives the vampire episode by the skin of his teeth and wakes up in a hospital bed. He has scarcely recovered when two men burst into his room asking him to partake in a secret operation. After the ambassador of a certain “Country B” steals an emerald necklace containing a cipher key from the wife of the ambassador of “Country A” (strongly implied to be England), the latter ambassador has the idea of stealing the cipher key in the possession of the former. The ambassador of Country B is very fond of carrots, and it is suspected that his stash of carrots is of relevance. Three spies from Country A each steal a carrot, only to drop dead. All but a few of the ambassador’s carrots were laced with potassium cyanide, and only he knew which ones were not. It takes Hanio to state the obvious: any generic carrot would have done the trick, meaning that the spies’ deaths were in vain.

Like Hanio’s other adventures, it is the sort of hare-brained caper one would expect to find in manga. Perhaps Mishima is poking fun at the ineptitude of Western democracies, or Britain in particular. (I am reminded of how Himmler allegedly remarked after the Gestapo tricked MI6 into maintaining radio contact that “after a while it becomes boring to converse with such arrogant and foolish people.”)

After the carrot incident, Hanio decides to move and blurts out the first destination that comes to mind. He ends up moving in with a respectable older couple and their errant youngest child, Reiko. Reiko’s parents are traditionalists who treat him with “an almost inconceivable degree of old-fashioned courtesy” (p. 122). The father reads classical Chinese poetry and collects old artifacts, among them a scroll depicting the legend of the Peach Blossom Spring. Reiko, meanwhile, spends her days doing drugs and hanging out with hippies in Tokyo. She is in her thirties, but she acts like a young girl. Although her parents are traditionally-minded, they bend to her every whim and do not discipline her.

It is explained that Reiko’s would-be husband turned her down out of a mistaken belief that her father had syphilis. Bizarrely, Reiko has convinced herself that she inherited the disease and that she will die a slow and painful death. Her death wish (combined with her parents’ negligence) appears to be the cause of her self-destructive behavior. She dreams of losing her virginity to a young man who would be willing to risk death by sleeping with her. Yet her fantasies turn out to be rather domestic. She play-acts a scene in which she tells an imaginary son that his father will be coming home at 6:15, as he does everyday.

This reminds Hanio of his former life as a copywriter and suddenly causes him to realize that the scourge of the city is palpable even in the cloistered confines of the tea house in which he is staying: “Out there, restless nocturnal life continued to pulse. . . . Such was the hell that bared its fangs and whirled around Hanio and Reiko’s comfortable little tomb” (pp. 147-48).

Hanio makes his escape one night when Reiko takes him to the disco. At the end of the novel, he visits a police station and asks for protection from some mobsters who want him dead (long story). The police dismiss him as delusional and cast him out. He is left alone, gazing at the night sky.

Underneath the campy pulp-fiction tropes, Life for Sale is a sincere meditation on the meaningless and absurdity of modern urban life. Surrendering one’s life is the most convenient escape from such an existence. The only alternative is to identify a higher purpose and pursue it relentlessly—after the manner of Mishima himself.

 

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Mettre l’Union européenne à l’heure suisse

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Mettre l’Union européenne à l’heure suisse

par Georges FELTIN-TRACOL

Chers Amis de TV Libertés,

Ancien directeur de La Tribune de Genève et député à l’assemblée cantonale de Genève d’abord sous l’étiquette démocrate-chrétienne, puis comme indépendant, le Russo-Suisse Guy Mettan vient de signer un essai qui mécontentera les européistes « bruxellobéats » et agacera les souverainistes nationaux, Le continent perdu. Plaidoyer pour une Europe démocratique et souveraines (les Éditions des Syrtes, 2019, 266 p., 19 €).

Il jette en effet un regard extérieur sur la question européenne ou, pour être plus précis, sur le devenir de l’Union européenne. Guy Mettan commet toutefois une erreur fréquente, celle de confondre l’Europe et l’Union dite européenne. L’auteur ne cache pas avoir été un chantre de l’adhésion suisse au grand ensemble continental voisin. Il en est aujourd’hui revenu au point de le qualifier de « machine déréglée (p. 109) » au « circuit législatif abscons (p. 123) » qui pratique « un coup d’État judiciaire permanent (p. 121) ». Il juge les institutions actuelles de l’UE ne pas être à la hauteur des défis.

Fort des précédents historiques, Guy Mettan s’inquiète de l’inertie croissante du processus européen qui suscite en revanche une décomposition étatique inouïe avec le Brexit, générateur d’une incroyable instabilité politique outre-Manche, les revendications indépendantistes de la Catalogne, de l’Écosse, de la Flandre ou les tentations illibérales en Europe centrale. Ces phénomènes politiques profonds affaiblissent des États européens qui deviendront bientôt des proies faciles pour la Chine ou l’Inde. Il craint par ailleurs que le destin des nations européennes soit de finir digérées par les États-Unis comme les cités grecques le furent par Rome…

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L’auteur déplore en outre la confrontation stérile entre de faux européistes qui croient l’UE comme un accélérateur de dépolitisation du monde au profit d ela technique, du droit et de l’économie, et des souverainistes populistes qui préfèrent se rétracter sur le seul cadre national. Guy Mettan ose pour sa part proposer un projet européen souverainiste et fédéraliste, ce qui peut paraître contradictoire pour un esprit français. Pas du tout quand on s’inspire de l’exemple helvétique. Ainsi défend-t-il que « l’Europe, plutôt que de vouloir devenir un empire non impérial, devrait au contraire avoir l’ambition de se transformer en un “ anti-empire ”, en un État fédéral fort, libre, démocratique, souveraine et respectueuse des autres (p. 222) ».

Hormis l’emploi dans une acception courante, inexacte et polémique du concept d’empire, l’auteur avance, à rebours de la doxa dominante, que le processus européen ne peut se concrétiser qu’autour de « la neutralité (ou le non-alignement) comme principe d’action (p. 248) ». Certes, « évoquer cette perspective, concède-t-il, fera naturellement bondir les atlantistes fanatiques et les intellectuels partisans de l’ingérence humanitaire et de la mission civilisatrice de l’Europe, censées apporter les lumières de la démocratie et des droits de l’homme au reste du monde plongé dans les ténèbres de la barbarie (idem) ». Si la neutralité coïncide à la spécificité suisse, correspondrait-elle à l’âme européenne définie naguère par Robert Dun ? Or il existe une subtile différence entre la neutralité et le non-alignement.

Charles De Gaulle esquissa aux débuts de la Ve République une diplomatie non-alignée en vive opposition avec le bloc atlantique anglo-saxon. La neutralité suisse est par nature dépolitisante puisqu’elle récuse toute puissance. Or, l’hypothétique non-alignement alter-européen qui impliquerait au préalable la fin de l’OTAN et la présence militaire étatsunienne serait quant à lui résolument politisé, axé sur la notion de puissance, et s’incarnerait dans une « Europe cuirassée » comme l’entendait Maurice Bardèche. L’État européen de demain (ou d’après-demain ?) pourra bien sûr se mettre à l’heure de Genève mais à la condition impérative de se placer au centre du grand jeu tragique des rapports de forces géopolitiques et non point à l’écart.

Bonjour chez vous !

Georges Feltin-Tracol

• « Chronique hebdomadaire du Village planétaire », n° 136, mise en ligne sur TV Libertés, le 29 juillet 2019.

mardi, 10 septembre 2019

The System that Kills the Peoples: The Birth of Neoliberalism

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The System that Kills the Peoples:
The Birth of Neoliberalism

Quinn Slobodian
Globalists: The End of Empire and the Birth of Neoliberalism
Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2018

QS-glob.jpgOne of the seminal ideological battles of recent history has been that between internationalism, in one form or another, and nationalism. Countless words have been devoted to dissecting the causes, effects, merits, and drawbacks of the various incarnations of these two basic positions. Neoliberalism has, however, succeeded in becoming the dominant internationalist ideology of the power elite and, because nationalism is its natural antithesis, great effort has been expended across all levels of society towards normalizing neoliberal assumptions about politics and economics and demonizing those of nationalism.[1] [2] This all seems obvious now, almost like second nature to those involved in the conflict, but despite this – or rather because of this – it is necessary to investigate the intellectual history of neoliberalism so as to better understand how it took hold of the imagination of the world’s elites. The recent book by Canadian historian Quinn Slobodian, Globalists: The End of Empire and the Birth of Neoliberalism, is an excellent, thought-provoking work on the subject and should be required reading for all White Nationalists. The book can serve as both an introduction to a serious study of neoliberalism and a valuable addition to any scholar’s library.

Slobodian argues that neoliberalism arose at the end of empire “not to liberate markets but to encase them, to inoculate capitalism against the threat of democracy, and to reorder the world after empire as a space of competing states in which borders fulfill a necessary function” (p. 2). Readers might be surprised by his statement about the neoliberal conception of borders. This, after all, differs remarkably from popular understanding, but the key to resolving this seemingly odd position can be found in the “two worlds theory” articulated by Carl Schmitt in 1950. Slobodian writes:

One was the world partitioned into bounded, territorial states where governments ruled over human beings. This he called the world of imperium, using the Roman legal term. The other was the world of property, where in people owned things, money, and land scattered across the earth. This was the world of dominium (p. 10).

As the author points out, for Schmitt this was “something negative, an impingement on the full exercise of national sovereignty” (p. 10), but neoliberals found in it an accurate description of precisely that which they had been trying to preserve and enhance for many years. This is a fundamental point and it underlies much of what is to follow. The neoliberal project is not one of anarchic, borderless economic activity but rather a supranational security apparatus designed to protect capitalism as a system of laws, both formal and informal, based on the ideas of individual consumer sovereignty, mobile capital, the human rights of capitalists and corporations, and an almost religious faith in market forces which take precedence over national interest. The author refers to this as “militant globalism.” Simply put, borders are for people and people are always secondary to capital in the neoliberal order. The nation-state and its borders are tolerated by neoliberalism only to the extent that they can be made useful to global capitalism.

QS-portraitr.jpgSlobodian begins with the dramatic shift in political and economic conceptions of the world following the First World War. As he observes, the very concept of a “world economy,” along with other related concepts like “world history,” “world literature,” and “world affairs,” entered the English language at this time (p. 28). The relevance of the nineteenth-century classical liberal model was fading as empire faded and both political and economic nationalism arose. As the world “expanded,” so too did the desire for national sovereignty, which, especially in the realm of economics, was seen by neoliberals as a terrible threat to the preservation of the separation of imperium and dominium. A world in which the global economy would be segregated and subjected to the jurisdiction of states and the collective will of their various peoples was antithetical to the neoliberal ideal of free trade and economic internationalism; i.e., the maintenance of a “world economy.”

Many of the economists who were troubled by the rise of nationalism and who were sympathetic towards empire as a quasi-internationalist free trade system were at this time centered in Austria. Slobodian provides a valuable history of their activity, with a focus on Ludwig von Mises, the Jew who laid the groundwork for much of what became neoliberal orthodoxy. Mises was highly anti-democratic, approved of state violence against workers, and supported the use of military power to open overseas markets (p. 33). The author writes that, for Mises, the state “could find its legitimacy only in its defense of the sanctity of private property and the forces of competition” (p. 33). In a 1921 policy paper in which he advocated free trade for Austria, he also suggested “[lifting] prohibitions on imports and ports . . . privatizing pubic enterprises, eliminating food subsidies . . . [and] lifting entry and residence requirements for foreigners ” (p. 43). In 1930, while Mises was an adviser to the Vienna Chamber of Commerce, the organization urged the government to pass an “anti-terror law” to combat worker strikes (p. 46). But much of his efforts and those of his colleagues were directed towards the elimination of tariffs, including international propaganda missions on behalf of this idea through the International Chamber of Commerce, an organization that tried to liberalize the global economy in a fashion similar to what the League of Nations was trying to do in the realm of politics.

The Great Depression made their job harder by further weakening popular faith in the free market. Following its end, a number of important economists, including Friedrich von Hayek, moved to Geneva to escape what were for them unfavorable political conditions in various parts of Europe. It was here that the Geneva school of economists was born and neoliberalism coalesced as an ideology. One of the fundamental shifts that occurred here at this time was a shift away from the heavy reliance on statistics, data, and economic models which had been a feature of the earlier work of neoliberals, but had also grown in importance across the discipline as economists attempted to explain business cycles. Neoliberals now saw this as nascent economic planning and began “to take a step back and contemplate the core enabling conditions of the grander order itself” (p. 84). They began to believe that the world economy was “unknowable,” but that “this was not a dead end but the starting point for designing the order within which the world economy could thrive” (p. 84). They realized that theirs was an ideology that transcended the purely economic, or as the author puts it, ” . . . the defense of the world economy . . . was too important to be left to the discipline of economics” (p. 92).

Supposed libertarians like Mises and Hayek were quite comfortable with international governance, in violation of the ideals those who admire them today claim to hold. Slobodian describes how, during the 1930s, neoliberals had finally realized that the “self-regulating market was a myth,” decolonization was inevitable, and “that the era of the nation was irreversible” (p. 95). Their mission was to exert political pressure to manage this new reality in order to ensure that these developments did not allow for the rise of economic nationalism. Their answer was “loose federations within which the constituent nations would retain control over cultural policy but be bound to maintain free trade and free capital movement between nations” (p. 95).

A world federation or federations could guarantee the separation of imperium and dominium. The nation-state would remain useful as a legal entity to ensure territorial compliance with the federation’s legal structure, which, by design, would be unaccountable to the public and render the nation-states’ sovereignty “ornamental” (p. 112). It is of some interest that these ideas, supported by Mises and Hayek, were also pushed by Wilhelm Röpke (a German economist who fled Germany in opposition to Hitler’s anti-Semitism) as a way to prevent Germany from regaining its economic self-sufficiency following the Second World War (p. 113).

Slobodian next delves into the neoliberal use of rights in their quest for the security of global capitalism. He writes:

Against human rights, they posed the human rights of capital. Against the stateless person, they posed the investor. Against sovereignty and autonomy, they posed the world economy and the international division of labor. Their ‘national’ was both a person and a company (p. 125).

The author calls these “xenos rights,” from the Greek word meaning “guest-friend” (p. 123). As one might expect, for neoliberals the citizen is secondary to the cosmopolitan capitalist in the same way that the nation-state is secondary to the world economy. As such, in their conception of human rights, “the alien investor must actually have more rights than citizens” (p. 137). An example he discusses is the “Capitalist Magna Carta,” Deutsche Bank’s Hermann Josef Abs’ 1957 attempt to enshrine this concept into international law, which was supported in the United States by Emmanuel Celler, the infamous Jew behind the 1965 Hart-Celler Act.

The subject of race gets a chapter in the book as well. With the emergence of the Global South, often acting as a bloc on the world stage and often with political and economic demands quite different from those of the neoliberals, and with the simple reality of biological differences as factors in civilizational progression and any honest analysis thereof, race was bound to be a part of the discussion to some degree. But most neoliberals did not think in terms of race, and when they did, it was to minimize its importance, as in, for example, the case of Hayek, who publicly denounced apartheid in South Africa (p. 151). Worse than “racism,” however, were attempts to breach the separation of imperium and dominium with sanctions and other tools of economic control. “Moral demands,” writes the author, “even those legitimized through international organizations, had no mandate to disrupt the economic constitution of the world” (p. 180). Thus, neoliberals tended to oppose interference in South Africa and Rhodesia despite objecting to their “white supremacy.”[2] [3]

Slobodian discusses at length the race-consciousness of Wilhelm Röpke, one of the few neoliberals who defended white rule in South Africa. He was less concerned with the Soviet threat than the brown threat and envisioned a white alliance spanning the Atlantic Ocean (p. 156). Slobodian quotes him:

The more the non-European great powers emerge . . . and the civilizations of other continents begin to regard us with condescending self-confidence, the more it becomes natural and necessary for the feeling of spiritual and moral homogeneousness among Europeans to increase powerfully . . .the spiritual and political integration of Europe . . . only makes sense as part and parcel of a higher combination and organization of the resistance potential of the entire western world on both sides of the Atlantic (p. 156).

He received a great deal of support among American conservatives like William Buckley and Russell Kirk, who saw in him a sensible attitude towards race as well as an identifiable Christianity lacking in other neoliberals (pp.164-174). A case could be made that in a strange and tragic way, Röpke did far more harm to American conservatism than Hayek or Mises by helping to popularize destructive economic ideas and an (at least partially) foreign ideology in American Rightist discourse by way of simply having sane racial attitudes in insane times.

The relationship between neoliberals and the European Economic Community is the subject of one of the final chapters of the book. In it, the author describes two different strains of neoliberal thought regarding Europe: the universalists (including Röpke), who saw in European integration a large protectionist scheme and in talk of Eurafrica (the incorporation of former colonies into the EEC) an extension of empire, versus the constitutionalists (influenced by Hayek), who believed that “the EEC was an example of how to integrate a market with a legal structure able to enforce competition across borders” (p. 214). Both sides held nearly identical views of the world but, as the author notes, the universalists were purists whose ideas “lacked the mechanism of enforcement” (p. 215). The constitutionalists were willing to work with available tools and make ideological compromises to lay the foundations for a future supranational government. Slobodian argues that their disagreement was fundamentally a matter of perspective: the Euroskeptic universalists thought exclusively in terms of globalism and saw the EEC as a move away from international free trade, while the constitutionalists saw in the EEC “new means of enforcement and oversight that the neoliberal federalists in the 1930s had not dreamed of themselves” (p. 215).

Throughout the 1970s, developing nations accelerated the assertion of their interests. In the United Nations, the G-77 demanded various forms of economic intervention, which to neoliberals was a “misuse of state sovereignty to unsettle world economic order” (p. 222). The nature of the threat was in the unequal economic treatment demanded by these nations and could only be remedied by legal equality. This legal equality was justified by what the author calls “cybernetic legalism,” an approach to law based on Hayek’s study of cybernetics and systems theory. It “saw individual humans as units within a self-regulating system for which the lawmaker had the primary responsibility of transforming the system’s rules into binding legislation” (p. 224). For neoliberals, the market is a fundamentally unknowable domain of nearly infinite transactions, always in motion, always fine-tuning itself, and always guided by a sort of wisdom. The role of a government is to provide a legal framework within which this sacred progression towards equilibrium can continue without interruption. Hayek had begun to think in terms of “self-generating order” and “self-generating structure” (p. 225). As the author notes at the end of the chapter, it was in the 1970s that references to and images of the globe and globalism became prevalent in popular culture (p. 258). Hayek’s cybernetic legalism seems perfectly in tune with the “spiritual but not religious” secular mysticism of globalism, intertwined as it is with faith-based egalitarianism and Whig history.

Though nearly a century old, Mises’ ideas sound contemporary and all too familiar. The neoliberal notions of a world of interdependent and largely interchangeable individuals absorbed into a system of economy with a mysterious yet sacred logic requiring international treaties and opaque supranational organizations to ensure its security from the suspicious or disaffected masses, wars against “terror” with clear economic motives, and various policies designed to benefit capitalists but bejeweled in the language of humanitarianism are so commonplace in contemporary political discourse that most people barely give them a moment’s notice. Neoliberalism is now the baseline of political thought across the mainstream spectrum. The ideas of Mises, the Jew who “conceded somewhat cheerfully that his understanding of the world coincided in many ways with that of Karl Marx” (p. 107), and those which developed from his contingent of capitalist enforcers, have managed to grip the globe. Even Wilhelm Röpke, who had at least a partial understanding of the reality of race, was complicit in the global steamrolling of national sovereignty and the reduction in the quality of life of countless white men and women (and indeed countless non-whites), all forced into a fundamentally unnatural world order beyond their control and without their consent.

Neoliberalism, a term widely misused and an ideology widely misunderstood, has been a threat to nationalist movements worldwide for a century. It is a secretive, unaccountable, supranational world order designed to cripple national autonomy. Neoliberals, of course, know this: remember that a happy byproduct of their model was the prevention of German self-sufficiency in the post-war years. So whenever a neoliberal begins espousing the benefits of his ideology for a specific country, he is simply lying. Neoliberalism is at its core a corrosive imperialism, absorbing all it touches into its global empire with largely unseen violence and without its subjects ever being entirely sure to whom or what they are subjected: It is an imperialism of cowards and bureaucrats, the most ignoble form of an ignoble system. Neoliberalism was born at the end of empire in the traditional sense, but it did not replace it; it merely reconfigured it with new emperors, new armies, and different weapons.

Notes

[1] [4] The author rightly differentiates between “international” and “supranational,” but over time the two concepts have become roughly interchangeable in the popular imagination and so I will defer to common usage – barring a few specific exceptions.

[2] [5] The Jew Milton Friedman managed to be correct in his prediction about black rule in Rhodesia. Slobodian quotes him: “. . . [black rule] would almost surely mean both the eviction or exodus of most whites and also a drastically lower level of living and opportunity for the masses of black Rhodesians” (p. 178).

 

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lundi, 09 septembre 2019

Dans les coulisses de la construction européenne

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Dans les coulisses de la construction européenne

par Georges FELTIN-TRACOL

« L’affichage d’une super-nation européenne n’est qu’un discours d’apparence. On voit bien qu’il n’y a pas d’« Europe-puissance » en vue, qu’il n’y en a jamais eu. Et que tous les protagonistes ont toujours fini par renoncer, de gré ou de force, à l’Europe européenne. Au contraire, on fabrique, en secret, une Europe de la diminutio capitis vassalisée, aliénée, soumise, et donc impuissante (p. 150). » Désormais retiré de la vie politique active, Philippe de Villiers résume dans ce nouvel ouvrage ses recherches dans les archives consacrés au processus européen.

Depuis la campagne du « non » à Maastricht en 1992 et la liste eurosceptique de 1994 sur laquelle figurait le milliardaire franco-britannique Jimmy Goldsmith, il pourfend une certaine Europe, celle des atlantistes, des fonctionnaires et des financiers. Il adopte les mâles propos de l’ancien Garde des Sceaux du Général De Gaulle, Jean Foyer, pour qui « leur Europe n’est pas un but, c’est une “ construction ” sans fin : elle se définit par son propre mouvement. Ce traité a été pensé, écrit même, pour faire coulisser un nœud coulant invisible. Il suffit de resserrer chaque jour le nœud : celui dont les juristes, les commissaires, tiennent la corde, et plus encore le nœud prétorien, le nœud des juges qui vous glissent la corde autour du cou (p. 153). » Député français au Parlement européen par intermittence entre 1994 et 2014, l’ancien président du Mouvement pour la France (MPF) a assisté à la neutralisation politique de l’Union européenne, corollaire de la prépondérance bureaucratique, car « selon la théorie fonctionnaliste qui vient des États-Unis, la plupart des questions appellent des réponses techniques (p. 135) ».

Contre le trio fondateur

PhV-fil.jpgPhilippe de Villiers en vilipende les fondements intellectuels. Ceux-ci reposeraient sur un trio infernal, sur une idéologie hors sol ainsi que sur un héritier omnipotent. Le trio regroupe Robert Schuman, Walter Hallstein et Jean Monnet. Le premier fut le ministre démocrate-chrétien français des Affaires étrangères en 1950. Le deuxième présida la Commission européenne de 1958 à 1967. Le troisième incarna les intérêts anglo-saxons sur le Vieux Continent. Ensemble, ils auraient suscité un élan européen à partir des prémices du droit national-socialiste, du juridisme venu d’Amérique du Nord et d’une défiance certaine à l’égard des États membres. Quant à l’héritier, il désigne « le fils spirituel (p. 255) », George Soros.

J’ai tiré sur le fil du mensonge et tout est venu est un gros pamphlet au ton partial. L’ancien président du conseil général de Vendée accuse par exemple Robert Schuman, né à Luxembourg, d’avoir été Allemand pendant la Première Guerre mondiale, puis d’être resté pacifiste au conflit suivant. Villiers regrette ouvertement que la famille Schuman n’ait pas choisi la France en 1871. Il cite à contre-sens l’un de ses biographes, François Roth dans son Robert Schuman (1), pour qui « Schuman n’avait pas le sens de la frontière, car il se sentait chez lui dans tout l’espace lotharingien, en Lorraine, en Alsace, au Luxembourg, en Belgique et dans les pays du Rhin (p. 66) ». En homme du bocage de l’Ouest, Villiers ne peut pas comprendre ce sentiment propre aux marches de l’Est, qui dépasse la sotte « Ligne bleue des Vosges », cette nostalgie rémanente qui liait Robert Schuman au Chancelier Konrad Adenauer, favorable au début des années 1920 à l’autonomie de la Rhénanie, et à l’Italien Alcide De Gasperi, longtemps sujet de l’Empire d’Autriche – Hongrie en tant que natif du Trentin – Haut-Adige – Tyrol du Sud. Ils concevaient la politogenèse européenne comme la reconstitution de l’Empire carolingien sur une assise territoriale franque correspondante à la Francie médiane de l’empereur Lothaire, l’aîné des petits-fils de Charlemagne.

Le parti-pris de Philippe de Villiers l’entraîne à considérer que « les architectes de l’Europe n’étaient pas des réfractaires à l’ordre de la peste brune : Schuman fut frappé d’« indignité nationale », il n’a jamais résisté, il était à Vichy. Monnet s’appuya sur la pensée d’Uriage, c’est-à-dire de Vichy. Il n’a jamais résisté non plus. Le troisième “ Père de l’intégration européenne ”, Hallstein, fut un officier instructeur du nazisme. Il a servi Hitler. Il prétendait même que la grande Europe connaissait là ses premiers épanouissements. L’assimilation des eurosceptiques au prurit fasciste des années trente est insupportable. L’européisme fut nourri au lait de ses premières comptines dans le berceau de la Collaboration et du nazisme. Et, depuis soixante-dix ans, on nous l’a caché (pp. 268 – 269) ». Il veut faire croire au lecteur qu’il vient de découvrir un scandale historique. Il n’est guère étonnant que la bibliographie ne mentionne pas « L’Europe nouvelle » de Hitler de Bernard Bruneteau (2) qui étudie l’« européisme des années noires ». Sans ce malencontreux oubli, Villiers n’aurait pu jouer à peu de frais au preux chevalier.

Un antifa qui s’ignore ?

hallstein.jpgOutre le rappel du passé national-socialiste de Hallstein, il insiste que Robert Schuman, « le père de l’Europe fut ministre de Pétain et participa à l’acte fondateur du régime de Vichy (p. 67) ». Oui, Robert Schuman a appartenu au premier gouvernement du Maréchal Pétain. Il n’était pas le seul. Philippe de Villiers ne réagit pas quand Maurice Couve de Murville lui dit à l’occasion d’une conversation au Sénat en juillet 1986 : « Je me trouvais à Alger […] quand Monnet a débarqué. J’étais proche de lui, depuis 1939. À l’époque, j’exerçais les fonctions de commissaire aux finances de Vichy (p. 109). » L’ancien Premier ministre du Général De Gaulle aurait pu ajouter que membre de la Commission d’armistice de Wiesbaden, il était en contact quotidien avec le Cabinet du Maréchal. Sa présence à Alger n’était pas non plus fortuite. Il accompagnait en tant que responsable des finances l’Amiral Darlan, le Dauphin du Maréchal !

L’auteur oublie facilement qu’en 1918 – 1919, la République française réalisa une véritable épuration ethnique en expulsant des milliers d’Allemands installés ou nés en Alsace – Lorraine depuis 1871. Il considère par ailleurs l’École des cadres d’Uriage comme la matrice intellectuelle de la pensée officielle eurocratique. Or il ne cite jamais la somme magistrale de Bernard Comte, Une utopie combattante (3), qui montre qu’après sa fermeture en 1942, bien des élèves d’Uriage ont rallié les maquis et la France combattante. Philippe de Villiers n’a-t-il pas lu ce qu’a écrit Éric Zemmour à ce sujet ? « Paul Delouvrier, qui aménagera le quartier de La Défense sous les ordres du général de Gaulle, penant les années 1960, écrit son commensal à La Rotonde, avait été formé par l’école des cadres d’Uriage, créée par Vichy. Cette même école où Hubert Beuve-Méry, fondateur du journal Le Monde, avait fait ses premières armes (4). » Villiers verse dans le manichéisme le plus simpliste.

Il a en revanche raison d’insister sur Jean Monnet dont « l’œuvre à produire [ses mémoires] a […] été commandée et financée par les Américains (p. 36) ». L’actuelle Union dite européenne sort tout droit des vœux cosmopolites du négociant bordelais. « Ni Europe des États ni Europe-État, l’Union est une broyeuse œuvrant au démantèlement progressif des lois et réglementations nationales et à la régulation au moyen d’un abondant flux de normes introduites dans les systèmes juridiques nationaux. Ce réaménagement bouleverse l’ordonnancement hiérarchique des pouvoirs, c’est-à-dire des États, des souverainetés et des relations internationales telles qu’elles s’étaient construites après-guerre (p. 160). » En effet, « on ne saurait mieux dire que, sous le beau nom d’« Union européenne », se cache une entreprise de liquidation de l’Europe et des Européens véritables, une entreprise littéralement antieuropéenne (p. 229) ». Qui en porte la responsabilité ? L’auteur ne répond pas vraiment. Certes, il mentionne « l’European Council on Foreign Relations, le premier think tank paneuropéen (p. 130) » et s’attarde sur les pages 162 à 164 sans jamais entrer dans les détails le Club Bilderberg. « Jean Monnet s’est trouvé ainsi au point de rencontre de la Révolution bolchevique et de la haute finance anglo-saxonne. Peut-être a-t-il cru, comme tant d’autres Anglo-Saxons, à l’époque, qu’un mariage était possible entre les deux systèmes, et que ce mariage des contraires enfanterait un monde unifié, sous clé américaine (p. 94). » Jamais l’auteur ne cite les travaux précurseurs de Pierre Hillard qui se penche sur le sujet depuis au moins deux décennies. Il aurait pu seulement se reporter à sa récente préface au Nouvel Ordre mondial de H.G. Wells (5). Villiers garde le silence sur la Commission Trilatérale et sur d’autres officines mondialistes d’origine anglo-saxonne tout aussi nuisibles que celles qu’il cite. Pis, il croit révéler que la CIA finançait dans les années 1950 et 1960 les organisations paneuropéennes dont les mouvements de l’ancien résistant Henri Frenay. Or Robert Belot dans sa biographie sur ce dernier (6) y consacrait plusieurs chapitres dès 2003 !

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Impuissante union

Le fondateur du Puy du Fou a en revanche bien compris l’intérêt des Étatsuniens de se servir de l’Union dite européenne comme d’un domestique efficace et obéissant. « Cette entreprise s’alimenta de la conviction profonde chez les Américains que leur architecture fédérale devait être transplantée en Europe, et ailleurs dans le monde. Les Américains sont convaincus de la supériorité de leur Constitution sur toutes les autres, en ce qu’elle permettrait le vivre-ensemble de populations venues de la terre entière qui se reconnaîtraient ainsi comme les nationaux d’une puissance universelle (p. 115). » De quoi de plus normal que déplorer dans ces conditions l’impuissance volontaire de l’entité pseudo-européenne ? « Où est donc le “ bouclier ” qu’était censé incarner l’euro, quand les entreprises européennes doivent fuir d’Iran sur injonction américaine, au nom des privilèges extraterritoriaux du “ roi dollar ”, et quand les banques européennes sont tétanisées dès qu’il est question d’un contrat avec un partenaire russe ou iranien ? Que peut donc bien signifier l’affichage d’une politique de défense européenne, alors qu’en réalité c’est à l’OTAN, c’est-à-dire aux États-Unis, que celle-ci est déléguée, avec, pour contrepartie, l’obligation de s’approvisionner en armements américains ? Le choix récent du chasseur F35 américain par la Belgique pour moderniser sa flotte de combat est emblématique (p. 277). » Il en résulte une monstruosité historique, géopolitique et juridique sans précédent. « Cette Europe-là a immolé son enveloppe charnelle, c’est une Europe sans corps. C’est l’union post-européenne. Elle se présente comme un marché ouvert et un espace en extension indéfinie, aux domaines de compétences eux-mêmes en expansion illimitée. L’Union européenne est un espace et un marché sans existence particulière, sans être propre, bientôt pulvérisée en une poussière d’impuissances et d’insignifiances. Ayant stérilisé la vie, elle s’avance dans le troisième millénaire au pas lourd d’un éléphant en phase terminale. Elle n’a pas cherché à être un corps politique, elle n’est qu’un corpus juridique : peu à peu, elle se retire pour faire la place à l’Autre (p. 213). » Pourquoi ? « Jean Monnet ne voulait pas d’une super-nation européenne qui viendrait fondre les nations préexistantes, à l’inverse de quelques-uns de ses disciples. […] “ Le plus grand danger pour l’Europe, ce serait un patriotisme européen ” (p. 160). » Incroyable aveu de la part du Bordelais ! Il convient par conséquent de détourner l’idée européenne en l’orientant vers un authentique esprit identitaire et une véritable aspiration à la puissance géopolitique propre à ce grand espace civilisationnel invertébré. Promouvoir un patriotisme européen, voire un « souverainisme », un « nationalisme » ou même un nouvel intégralisme continental, est une impérieuse et vitale nécessité.

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Digne successeur de Jean Monnet, un personnage interlope combat cette perspective, lui qui s’épanouit dans la fluidité et la plasticité du monde occidental. L’auteur cite la remarquable enquête de Pierre-Antoine Plaquevent, (7). On connaît la nocivité, sinon la malfaisance de George Soros. Philippe de Villiers ajoute que « Soros pèse sur d’autres organisations supranationales. Son influence sur la nomination des juges auprès de la Cour européenne des droits de l’homme est de plus en plus visible et redoutée. Plusieurs juges de la CEDH sont des “ anciens ” de chez Soros, car le règlement de cette cour permet à une personne d’être nommée juge même si elle n’a jamais exercé auparavant la fonction de magistrat. Ainsi, les anciens “ militants des droits de l’homme ” deviennent les arbitres du contentieux entre les citoyens et leurs États respectifs, et imposent leur vision radicalement déformée de la nature humaine pour travailler à un véritable changement de civilisation (pp. 265 – 266) ». Un peu comme au Conseil constitutionnel français qui accueille à peu près n’importe qui, mais jamais un Jean-Marie Le Pen ou un Bruno Gollnisch…

Méconnaissance du fédéralisme

Épris du modèle westphalien de l’État-nation, Philippe de Villiers juge que « l’Europe n’a pas de langue commune, ni de frontières véritables ou définitives. Au contraire des États-Unis et de toutes les nations fédérales du monde, il n’y a pas de peuple fédéral en Europe. Et l’on ne fait pas de fédération sans fédérateur. À moins de le choisir à l’extérieur (p. 116) ». Il ignore sûrement que le modèle fédéral concerne des citoyens de peuples différents. Les États-Unis d’Amérique constituent un cas très particulier puisqu’ils représentent le plus vaste dépotoir génétique ultra-individualiste de l’histoire seulement tenue par les médiats, une « justice » intéressée et la croyance suprémaciste en la « destinée manifeste ». Si chaque fédération est spécifique, la plupart des ensembles fédéraux savent inclure divers peuples, langues et religions, d’où des institutions complexes et bigarrées. Sans aller jusqu’à étudier l’Inde, Philippe de Villiers aurait pu se focaliser sur la seule Suisse. Nulle part dans son ouvrage, l’auteur ne mentionne l’hégémonie de l’anglais, ou plus exactement du globish, dans les institutions pseudo-européennes, y compris à l’heure du Brexit. Une fois la Grande-Bretagne sortie de la pétaudière bruxelloise, l’anglais devrait perdre son rang de langue d’usage au sein de l’UE puisque aucun des 27 n’a désormais la langue de Shakespeare comme langue officielle (Malte et l’Irlande, deux États anglophones au quotidien, ont le gaélique et le maltais). Ce silence surprenant.

Malgré tout le tintamarre orchestré autour de J’ai tiré sur le fil du mensonge et tout est venu, ce livre n’éclaire qu’une partie du désastre. L’Hexagone est lui aussi pleinement infesté par ce que dénonce l’auteur à l’échelle européenne et qui atteint aussi les patries charnelles. Pourquoi se tait-il à propos de la French American Foundation ? N’a-t-il jamais rencontré au cours de sa carrière politique des habitués aux soirées de l’ambassadeur yankee à Paris ? Philippe de Villiers révèle finalement bien peu de choses à l’esprit averti féru de questions européennes. Son livre reflète toutefois la pesanteur accrue d’une formidable chape de plomb qui asphyxie toute réflexion intellectuelle en France. Un universitaire souverainiste lui déclare à propos des documents parus en annexes : « — Ce n’est pas de la timidité, c’est de la prudence. Les universitaires ne sont pas téméraires.

— Il y aurait vraiment des risques à publier la copie des archives ?

— Oui, le risque de perdre sa chaire, sa charge d’enseignement, son job, son éditeur… (p. 20) »

Comme l’aventure européenne, l’Université française ressemble toujours plus à un navire en perdition. L’américanisation de ses structures et le nivellement par le bas des étudiants projettent à vive allure les générations dans le mur, sinon vers le précipice. Le mensonge est total; il a été très bien assimilé par la population.

Georges Feltin-Tracol

Notes

1 : François Roth, Robert Schuman, Fayard, 2008, p. 201.

2 : Bernard Bruneteau, « L’Europe nouvelle » de Hitler. Une illusion des intellectuels de la France de Vichy, Éditions du Rocher, coll. « Démocratie ou totalitarisme », 2003.

3 : Bernard Comte, Une utopie combattante. L’École des cadres d’Uriage, préface de René Rémond, Fayard, coll. «Pour une histoire du XXe siècle », 1991.

4 : Éric Zemmour, Destin français, Albin Michel, 2018, p. 526.

5 : H.G. Wells, Le Nouvel Ordre mondial, préface de Pierre Hillard, Éditions du Rubicon, coll. « Influences », 2018.

6 : Robert Belot, Henri Frenay. De la Résistance à l’Europe, Le Seuil, coll. « L’univers historique », 2003.

7 : Pierre-Antoine Plaquevent, Soros et la société globale. Métapolitique du globalisme, avant-propos de Xavier Moreau et postface de Lucien Cerise, Le retour aux sources, 2018.

• Philippe de Villiers, J’ai tiré sur le fil du mensonge et tout est venu, Fayard, 2019, 415 p., 23 €.

mardi, 20 août 2019

Une biographie de l'écrivain nationaliste belge Pierre Nothomb par Lionel Baland

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Une biographie de l'écrivain nationaliste belge Pierre Nothomb par Lionel Baland

L'historien liégeois Lionel Baland, spécialiste des mouvements nationaux et identitaires en Europe cliquez ici, vient de publier aux Editions Pardès une biographie de son compatriote belge au parcours atypique Pierre Nothomb.

Pierre Nothomb naît en Belgique en 1887. Il y étudie le droit et devient avocat. Démocrate-chrétien avant la Première Guerre mondiale, il combat au début du conflit dans la garde civique. Actif à partir de 1915 au sein des cercles gouvernementaux belges en exil en France, il est un des propagandistes du nationalisme belge et milite pour la réalisation, à l’issue de la guerre, d’une Grande Belgique résultant de l’annexion du Luxembourg, d’une partie des Pays-Bas et d’une partie de l’Allemagne.

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Au cours des années 1920, ami et adepte de Benito Mussolini – ses adversaires le surnomment Mussolinitje (« petit Mussolini ») –, Pierre Nothomb dirige les Jeunesses nationales, qui affrontent physiquement socialistes, communistes et nationalistes flamands. Après avoir pris part aux débuts du rexisme aux côtés de Léon Degrelle, il rejoint le Parti catholique et, en 1936, devient sénateur.

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Auteur de nombreux ouvrages, il est, jusque l’année précédant son décès survenu en 1966, sénateur du Parti Social-Chrétien. Son fils, Charles-Ferdinand, devient vice-Premier ministre, président de la Chambre des députés et président du Parti Social-Chrétien. Son arrière-petite-fille est la romancière Amélie Nothomb.

Ce « Qui suis-je ? » Pierre Nothomb présente l’écrivain et l’homme politique nationaliste et catholique dont la vie est liée de manière intime à celle de son pays, la Belgique, et à la terre de ses ancêtres.

Citation : « Une nation tranquille, endormie dans la paix et n’ayant d’autre orgueil, semblait-il, que sa richesse, sentit tout à coup peser sur elle la plus formidable menace. Cette guerre, qui devait l’épargner […], elle allait en être la première victime. L’odieux ultimatum allemand lui demanda l’Honneur ou la Vie. Elle répondit : la Vie. » (Les Barbares en Belgique.)

L’auteur : Lionel Baland est un écrivain belge francophone, quadrilingue, spécialiste des partis patriotiques en Europe et du nationalisme en Belgique.

Pierre Nothomb, Lionel Baland, Pardès, collection "Qui suis-je ?", 2019, 12 euros

jeudi, 15 août 2019

Guillaume Faye: Hommages et vérités

Un recueil d'hommages à Guillaume Faye aux éditions du Lore

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Au sommaire:

Incipit: toute grandeur est dans l'assaut

par Pierre Krebs

L'apport de Guillaume Faye à la "nouvelle droite" et petite histoire de son éviction

par Robert Steuckers

Au revoir Guillaume Faye, après quarante-quatre ans de combat commun !

(version augmentée)

par Robert Steuckers

Guillaume Faye, un éveilleur du XXIème siècle

par Pierre-Emile Blairon

Thème d'une fin: le dieu ETHNOS

par Pierre Krebs

ANNEXES:

Recension du "Système à tuer les peuples" de Guillaume Faye

par Robert Steuckers

La plume-revolver de Guillaume Faye

par Pierre Krebs

Guillaume Faye et la "convergence des catastrophes"

par Robert Steuckers

Un essai italien sur Guillaume Faye

par Stefano Vaj

Faut-il lyncher Guillaume Faye?

par Pierre Maugué

Pour toute commande: https://ladiffusiondulore.fr

 

mardi, 25 juin 2019

Una nueva filosofía de la Libertad: La Razón Manual de Manuel F. Lorenzo

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Una nueva filosofía de la Libertad:

La Razón Manual de Manuel F. Lorenzo

Carlos Javier Blanco

Ex: http://www.revistacontratiempo.com.ar/blanco_lorenzo_razo... 

El gran filósofo alemán Johann Gottlieb Fichte (1762-1814) sentenció que la filosofía que un hombre profesa depende de la clase de hombre que se es. En tal aserto, lejos de abrir las puertas a un relativismo, tengo para mí que se contiene la semilla de un nuevo y fundamental vitalismo. La filosofía es la razón de la vida, y de la vida en razón. El gran idealista germano, según he podido aprender del profesor Manuel Fernández Lorenzo, fue el padre y el impulsor no ya sólo del idealismo alemán sino también vitalismo filosófico, movimiento del que todos los españoles y americanos de habla hispana podemos sentirnos herederos. ¿Y por qué los españoles e hispanohablantes precisamente? España, nación a la que algunos, erróneamente, toman por huérfana filosófica, posee muy por el contrario conocidos y dignos padres pensadores de primera talla. Como ocurrió en otras ocasiones y países, España conjuga hoy, como las demás naciones hermanas, un verdadero derrumbe moral y social, así como una descomposición institucional, por un lado, con una elevada y meritoria producción filosófica, por el otro.

Razon Manual 1 product_thumbnail.jpgEs en dos etapas bien diferenciadas en donde cabe hablar de la prosapia hispana de la filosofía. Hubo una primera -pero ya remota- etapa de realismo escolástico, en la Edad Moderna, esto es, en los siglos áureos del Imperio. Hubo y hay otra etapa, mucho más reciente, presidida de forma contemporánea por el vitalismo filosófico de nuestro Unamuno y de nuestro Ortega. Es de este vitalismo de donde partimos hoy en la hispana filosofía y de donde, según los pasos que muestra Manuel F. Lorenzo, podemos beber y alzar nuevas construcciones del pensamiento. El vitalismo hispano, como el de toda Europa, bien podría bascular en dos direcciones, entre sí antagónicas. Una dirección posible, hacia donde inclinar su peso, es claramente irracionalista. La Vida como opuesta a la Razón, la Vida como primum que no atiende a razones, que siente las razones como enfermas y como lastres, como artificios y excrecencias. Los pensadores germanos han sido pródigos en este vitalismo irracionalista e irracional. Schopenhauer Nietzsche, Klages, son nombres que acuden entonces a la mente, y su filosofía hiriente incomoda a todo aquel que busca incólumes certezas, cimientos lógico-matemáticos, solideces de plomo, granito y acero. Eran aquellos filósofos de la vida enemigos de la ratio rebeldes muy a la alemana, esto es, rebeldes dados a la reacción.

El más irracionalista de nuestros pensadores de la Vida, don Miguel de Unamuno, no fue de esa estirpe, y escribió una filosofía acorde "con la clase de hombre que era", esto es, existencial, dubitativa, escrita con su carne y asomando en ella el hueso. No se extirpa ni se humilla allí la razón, sino que se la envuelve en las vísceras y en la organicidad de la existencia humana. Pero es de Ortega y Gasset de donde parte esa nueva filosofía hispana de la vida que explica genéticamente la razón, y es la que anuncia como precursora de la suya don Manuel Fernández Lorenzo, profesor en Oviedo (Principado de Asturias). El raciovitalismo orteguiano, junto con la epistemología genética de Jean Piaget y el materialismo de Gustavo Bueno, serán los puntos de arranque, el triple hito de donde comenzar a señalar, sin temor a pérdida, una novísima filosofía hispana. ¿Cómo?- se preguntará el lector. Son tres puntos de arranque muy distintos y distantes. No parecen casar bien con vistas a llegar a un nuevo sistema filosófico hispano, a la altura de nuestros tiempos, en diálogo y contraste con las filosofías contemporáneas a las que es obligado evocar, con las que se nos exige dialogar y, resueltamente, a las cuales es menester superar. Pero la distancia y la heterogeneidad entre Ortega, Piaget y Bueno, todos ellos partiendo de Fichte y su filosofía del "lado activo" del Yo, es más aparente que real si seguimos atentos y disciplinados las explicaciones de Manuel F. Lorenzo.

manuel.fern_ndez_lorenzo.jpgLa razón vital no se limita pensar en y desde "el hombre de carne y hueso". La razón vital implica que la vida humana no es sólo razón, pero sí es ejecución de actos en orden a una gestión de la vida misma, una gerencia y construcción que se hace de acuerdo con principios racionales. El hombre no es, para nada, un autómata racional, sino un sujeto orgánico cuya forma humana de adaptación y supervivencia psicobiológica exige la racionalidad. El hombre viene definido, en rigor, no por una sustancial cogitación ("yo soy una cosa que piensa") sino por una actividad circular, por un circuito entre el Yo y las Cosas (el "no-Yo" de Fichte). Ninguno de los polos del circuito debe ser reificado de antemano, ninguno ha de ser tratado acríticamente como una cosa o sustancia. La constitución de los dos polos, yo y mundo ("circunstancias"), consiste precisamente en el lanzamiento de series de acciones en las que el Yo se hace con el Mundo y recíprocamente el Mundo se presenta y re-presenta ante el Yo. La filosofía de Ortega, que tantas veces bebe de la fenomenología y del existencialismo alemán, es vitalista por cuanto que plantea siempre un sujeto humano orgánico definido como un verdadero sistema racional de operatividad, para quien conocer es, de otro modo, coextensivo con sobrevivir y "hacerse con el mundo". Las circunstancias orteguianas, como el "medio" (Umwelt) de los biólogos, conforman el espacio de las operaciones, un espacio que da pie a redefinir la experiencia en términos de construcción. Ortega no quería echar por la borda la razón, aplastarla bajo el peso de una salvaje o bestial Voluntad o Vida. Antes bien, quería explicar el hecho humano mismo de la razón. Al proceder así, al avanzar desde la dialéctica de Fichte, el raciovitalismo del filósofo madrileño ofrece un programa genético del racionalismo tanto como del empirismo. Se trata de volver al genuino espíritu con el que nació el idealismo: la superación de la magna filosofía europea de la Modernidad, tanto el empirismo isleño como el racionalismo continental, una superación que acude a la génesis misma del conocimiento. Y el conocimiento es al fin entendido no como resultado de acumulación de experiencias o como deducción de principios racionales o ideas innatas, sino como resultado de una experiencia en sí misma racional desde el inicio. Experiencia orgánica que se estructura en forma de sistemas de acciones que, por medio de una lógica material, estructuran nuevos sistemas de acciones más amplios en radio de alcance, más potentes en influjo sobre el medio, más "hábiles" en orden a una adaptación y control sobre el medio. En este sentido, Jean Piaget convirtió en empresa "positiva", científica y experimental, una parte muy importante del proyecto esbozado por Ortega. Piaget llevó a cabo un programa científico de esclarecimiento de los orígenes de la inteligencia y la razón de los sujetos orgánicos partiendo no tanto de un "Yo" que se pone (Fichte) y se limita con el No-Yo (mundo en torno, o "circunstancias") sino de un circuito que ya en la fase pre-intelectual incluye ese centro orgánico que lanza acciones-percepciones, como choca con "dificultades" y "obstáculos" de un entorno con el que deberá luchar. El bebé humano, tanto como cualquier individuo orgánico, es un centro de operaciones y es a la vez el eco y la respuesta de un medio ambiente transformado por las operaciones. Los dos sentidos en los que el sujeto orgánico "choca" con el mundo y lo transforma, a la vez que se transforma él, han recibido por parte de Piaget los nombres de "asimilación" y "acomodación". La asimilación, como proceso que generaliza la asimilación de los alimentos, supone la incorporación cognitiva y no sólo material del mundo. El Yo se "pone", se afirma, incorporando elementos del medio que él necesita para su mantenimiento (conservación, supervivencia). Pero el mundo (el "no-Yo") se le opone, se le enfrenta, le traza caminos por donde poder ejercer la acción y por donde no puede atravesar ese mundo con la acción. La acomodación piagetiana podría verse como el sentido opuesto a las acciones asimilativas. El Yo, como centro orgánico de operaciones, debe transformarse a su vez, debe reestructurar sus esquemas de acción para sortear, horadar, recomponer las barreras y resistencia del mundo-entorno. La razón en el proceso vital no es más que el grado máximo en que un sistema de acciones "se hace con el mundo" y, recíprocamente, el mundo se hace con el yo. Esta es la razón vital, pero investigada desde un punto de vista genético y positivo.

manos.jpgLa incorporación de la filosofía materialista de Gustavo Bueno a todo este enfoque genético-constructivo del pensamiento se hace ineludible en este punto de mi breve recensión. Manuel F. Lorenzo es un buen conocedor del materialismo buenista, como discípulo directo suyo desde los primeros tiempos, miembro activo de la llamada "Escuela de Oviedo", hoy en disolución bajo la sombra de los sectarios y de los arribistas. En "La Razón Manual", el autor nos recuerda el aserto fichteano con que encabezábamos esta reseña: "uno profesa la filosofía que va de acuerdo con la clase de hombre que se es". Profesar el materialismo de Bueno, a pesar de sus deudas para con la epistemología genética piagetiana supone, verdaderamente, profesar una suerte de dogmatismo, de pensamiento antipático a la libertad, dicho en términos fichteanos. Las clases de hombres que, filosóficamente hablando, cabe hallar en el mundo se pueden reducir a dos: los amigos de la libertad (idealismo) y los amigos de la servidumbre (dogmatismo, en donde cabe situar el "materialismo"). "La Razón Manual" es un libro que toma partido expreso y decidido por la libertad, se entronca en el idealismo. No en el idealismo visionario, celeste, construido sobre las nubes. Se entronca en la tradición idealista-vitalista que, desde Fichte, indaga en "el lado activo", esto es, en las operaciones. En ese sentido, la filosofía de Bueno estudiada a la luz de la filosofía de la "Razón Manual" adopta el aspecto de un centauro. Por un lado desarrolla una inmensa y magnífica "Teoría del Cierre Categorial", basada en la obra de Piaget y en una genética de las operaciones gnoseológicas, por otro lado incluye un "preámbulo ontológico" de corte escolástico-marxista, que lastra todo el sistema. El propio nombre de "materialismo filosófico" supone una fuente inagotable de equívocos, que ha dado pie a que muchos farsantes e iletrados lo confundan con una versión sofisticada del leninismo y otros, por el contrario, con un positivismo cientifista o realista. Los grandes logros de Gustavo Bueno, depurados del dogmatismo y su "culto a la materia", se pueden reaprovechar y potenciar siguiendo las indicaciones de "La Razón Manual", todo un programa de investigación que humildemente recomiendo.

Para más información: https://manuelflorenzo.blogspot.com/2018/12/novedad-editorial-la-razon-manual.html

Manuel F. Lorenzo : La Razón Manual, Lulú, Morrisville, Carolina del Norte, 2018.

 

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jeudi, 20 juin 2019

Your Nineteen Eighty-Four Sources in Full

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Your Nineteen Eighty-Four Sources in Full

Connolly, Burnham, Orwell, & “Corner Table”

“In the torture scenes, he is merely melodramatic: he introduces those rather grotesque machines which used to appear in terror stories for boys.”
—V. S. Pritchett, The New Statesman [2], June 18, 1949

The torture section in Nineteen Eighty-Four[1] [3] was planned from the beginning, and intended to be the story’s core and culmination. The key influence here was James Burnham’s The Struggle for the World (discussed below), which George Orwell reviewed in March 1947, shortly before starting the first full longhand draft of the new novel. In Struggle, Burnham emphasized the likelihood of another World War within another few years, and probably even a war using the “atomic bomb.”

This found its way into Nineteen Eighty-Four, as did Burnham’s analysis of Communism (though Orwell didn’t call it that). Terror, torture, disinformation, humiliation: these are not unfortunate byproducts of Communist revolution, said Burnham, they are the system itself.

The original model for Nineteen Eighty-Four wasn’t as grim as that. It was frivolous, really, and written years and years before the Cold War was dreamt of. It was a little black comedy that used torture strictly for laughs. Titled “Year Nine,” Cyril Connolly dashed it off at the end of 1937.[2] [4] It appeared in The New Statesman in January 1938.

It’s a brief farce, less than two thousand words, yet in there are prefigured Big Brother, the Thought Police, Newspeak, and the Ministry of Love. To tell a brief story briefly: After happening upon a basement art exhibit, the narrator – an assembly-line envelope-flap-licker – is accused of thoughtcrime (approximately). He is arrested, severely tortured, and sentenced to excruciating execution.

Orwell was much impressed with it, and so were John Betjeman and others.[3] [5] Up to this point, Connolly was known mainly as an idler and failed novelist. Very soon, though, he published a memoir, Enemies of Promise, founded Horizon (“A Review of Literature & Art”), became editor of The Observer‘s book section (where he farmed out reviews to Orwell and Evelyn Waugh and Arthur Koestler), and was generally London’s number-one all-’round critic and litterateur.

From “Year Nine”:

As the hot breath of the tongs approached, many of us confessed involuntarily to grave peccadilloes. A man on my left screamed that he had stayed too long in the lavatory.

 * * *

Our justice is swift: our trials are fair: hardly was the preliminary bone-breaking over than my case came up. I was tried by the secret censor’s tribunal in a pitchdark circular room. My silly old legs were no use to me now and I was allowed the privilege of wheeling myself in on a kind of invalid’s chair. In the darkness I could just see the aperture high up in the wall from whence I should be cross-examined . . .

Our narrator (not a Winston Smith type, more of a garrulous Connolly/O’Brien) is sentenced to be “cut open by a qualified surgeon in the presence of the State Augur.”

“You will be able to observe the operation, and if the Augur decides the entrails are favourable they will be put back. If not, not . . . For on this augury an important decision on foreign policy will be taken. Annexation or Annihilation? . . .

Yes, I have been treated with great kindness.[4] [6]

There is a cultural time-stamp on “Year Nine,” clearly visible. The Moscow Purge Trials were underway and widely known about, but Connolly pins the Stalinist outrages in his tale – torture, forced confessions, anonymous denunciations – upon a cartoonish pseudo-Nazi regime, complete with Stroop Traumas, Youngleaderboys, and a population in thrall to Our Leader. (Connolly hadn’t a political bone in his body, but he posed as a Fellow Traveler, that being comme il faut.)

Conversely, when Nineteen Eighty-Four came out in 1949, it too drew on the Moscow Trials, and no one questioned (least of all Pravda) that Orwell was depicting a Soviet-style police-state. This happened even though Orwell slyly denied that it was about Communism. You can see this in the novel’s own disclaimers, and in external press releases that author and publisher sent out.

A curious legacy of “Year Nine” is that its Punch-and-Judy brilliance shines through the surface narrative of Nineteen Eighty-Four, giving the torture scenes a lurid “vaudeville” feel. Orwell probably didn’t intend the scenes in the Ministry of Love (Miniluv) to be black comedy, but that’s what he got, from O’Brien’s jabberwocky speeches, all the way to the rats in the cage-mask. (“‘It was a common punishment in Imperial China,” said O’Brien as didactically as ever.’”)

Lord of Chaos

Connolly/O’Brien is your emcee and Lord of Chaos in the Miniluv torture clinic. This is far from the standarGO1.jpgd crib-note interpretation of O’Brien (“zealous Party leader . . . brutally ugly”), but pray consider: a) Connolly was Orwell’s only acquaintance of note who came close to the novel’s description of O’Brien, physically and socially; b) if you bother to read O’Brien’s monologues in the torture clinic, you see he’s doing a kind of Doc Rockwell routine: lots of fast-talking nonsense about power and punishment, signifying nothing.

This is one reason why O’Brien fails as a villain. Villains must be monolithic. Here we have an Inner Party exemplar-cum-old Etonian who still boasts of his “antinomian tendencies” – a humorist and parodist, author of The Theory and Practice of Oligarchical Collectivism as well as “Where Engels Fears to Tread”;[5] [8] in short, a louche Fellow-Traveler-of-convenience, renowned for self-indulgence and amorality. And thus he fits right in with what O’Brien tells us about the Inner Party ethos (do read the monologues): someone who’s amoral, capricious, and power-hungry (and a potential sociopath, if O’Brien’s description of the Party’s lust for power is anything to go by).

* * *

If Orwell wanted to put Connolly out of his mind while working on Nineteen Eighty-Four, he couldn’t, because he was forever revising an essay-memoir about the school they went to together between 8 and 14. It was the most miserable time of life for young Eric Blair (for such he was). He had probably started this memoir in the early 1940s, and still had the unpublished typescript with him in London when he was playing with notes and abortive chapters for his projected novel in 1945 and 1946. And then he brought it with him to the Isle of Jura, Inner Hebrides, in the spring of 1947, where he finally began to handwrite the first draft of The Last Man in Europe (as he was then calling the Winston Smith novel). He also revised the memoir, sending a carbon to his publisher in late May. Then, in 1948, when he was laid up with TB in a hospital near Glasgow and struggling to rewrite the novel with his writing arm in a cast, he revised the memoir yet again. It wouldn’t be published in Great Britain until 1967.

The memoir was Cyril Connolly’s idea. Connolly had put his fond-but-unnerving school memories into Enemies of Promise (which made him famous), and suggested his old schoolmate Blair might do the same: a companion piece or “pendant” to Connolly’s sardonic memoir. So Blair/Orwell decided to do a Dickens about his time as an upper-middle-class poor boy at St. Cyprian’s, enduring six years of oppression, humiliation, and petty tortures. He attended the school on reduced fees (as the Headmaster’s wife reminded him loudly and often) because he was expected to win a scholarship to Eton, and so bring glory and honor to St. Cyprian’s. From age 11 onward, Young Blair was “crammed with learning as cynically as a goose is crammed for Christmas” (as he wrote), mainly Latin and Greek.

This is the nearest thing to an autobiography we ever got out of Orwell, and the disgusted, sulky, sharp-eyed loner we see in his essays and Winston Smith is thoroughly recognizable as the boy at St. Cyprian’s. To make himself seem even lonelier and more miserable – or perhaps for some other motive – he cut Cyril Connolly entirely out of story.

At one point in the memoir, Orwell pulls back and says he doesn’t mean to suggest his school was a kind of Dotheboys Hall. Then he marches off again and tells us about the filthy lavatories and disgusting food, and how he once saw a human turd floating on the surface of the local baths in Eastbourne. On finally leaving St. Cyprian’s – off to Eton, but first a term at Wellington – he looked to the future with despair. “[T]he future was dark. Failure, failure, failure – failure behind me, failure ahead of me . . .”

Orwell’s publisher and friends thought the memoir was just too embarrassing and self-pitying to publish. It would be bad for Orwell’s reputation, they said, and probably libelous. So the perennial work-in-progress didn’t see the light of day until Orwell was safely dead and Partisan Review in New York ran a slightly altered version in their September-October 1952 issue. It ran for 41 pages, called St. Cyprian’s “Crossgates,” and used Orwell’s title: “Such, Such Were the Joys.”[6] [9]

* * *

You sometimes hear that Orwell plagiarized from another dystopian story, usually one set many centuries in the future, with little or no resemblance to Orwell’s. In 2009, on Nineteen Eighty-Four‘s sixtieth anniversary of publication, Paul Owen in The Guardian tried to make the case that Orwell “pinched the plot” from Yevgeny (or Eugene) Zamyatin’s early-1920s novel, We.[7] [10] As evidence, Owen says that Orwell read Zamyatin’s book three years before Nineteen Eighty-Four was published (1949). This is a lie by misdirection. Orwell had been making notes and outlines since at least 1944, and finished his first draft in 1947. He first heard of Zamyatin’s book in 1943, failed to find a copy of the 1920s English translation published in New York,[8] [11] and finally settled for a French one, his review appearing in early 1946.[9] [12] Owen’s biggest claim is completely wrong: “that Orwell lifted that powerful ending – Winston’s complete, willing capitulation to the forces and ideals of the state – from Zamyatin.” The ending of Nineteen Eighty-Four is in fact a retread of a novel ending that Orwell wrote in 1935.

GO4.jpgA good deal of Nineteen Eighty-Four, in fact, is a twisted retelling of Keep the Aspidistra Flying.[10] [13] Orwell wrote Aspidistra in 1935 during his Hampstead bookshop-assistant days, and was ever after ashamed of it. Never mind, it’s a beautiful piece of pathetic self-mockery, giving us a 1930s-model Winston Smith. Instead of surrendering to Big Brother at the end, the Winston-figure, Gordon, finally sells out to the “Money God” – and goes back to his job as an advertising copywriter. A happy ending, strangely enough.

In place of glowering Big Brother posters, Gordon is surrounded by vast images of “Corner Table,” a “spectacled rat-faced clerk with patent-leather hair,” grinning over a mug of Bovex. (Presumably Bovril + Oxo.) “Corner Table enjoys his meal with Bovex,” shouts the poster all over town. Everywhere Gordon is stared down by the Money God, in the guise of advertisements on all the hoardings. “Silkyseam – the smooth gliding bathroom tissue.” “Kiddies clamour for their Breakfast Crisps.”

Like Winston, Gordon is under constant surveillance at home (from his landlady) and takes his girlfriend out to the countryside, where they have sex on the wet ground. When he gets in trouble with the law, he wakes up in a jail with walls of “white porcelain bricks,” like the lockup at Miniluv. His O’Brien-analogue, an upper-class literary friend and little-magazine publisher named Ravelston, shows up and rescues him from the clink. Instead of taking him to a torture chamber, he puts Gordon up in his flat and gently badgers him to straighten out his life, which Gordon does eventually, but not just yet. Torture was different in the Thirties.

* * *

Connolly’s “Year Nine” provided an amusing, pocket-sized framework for building a terror-regime satire, while Keep the Aspidistra Flying gave the naturalistic “human” elements to be restyled for Nineteen Eighty-Four. The new novel also needed serious geopolitical underpinnings, and here Orwell leaned heavily on James Burnham. It’s long been known that Orwell took the “three super-states” idea from Burnham’s The Managerial Revolution (1941).[11] [14] Orwell and his publisher cited Burnham and that book when they wrote a press release in June 1949, explaining what Nineteen Eighty-Four was “about.” (Press interest was intense, and the hat-tip to Burnham looks suspiciously like a red herring.)

Burnham’s “three super-states” schema was the inspiration not only for Oceania-Eurasia-Eastasia, but most probably the entire novel; it was like a piece of grit in the oyster, waiting for the pearl to form around it. It became Orwell’s pet geopolitical concept, and from 1944 onward we find him continually dropping mentions of “three super-states” in his reviews, articles, and columns.

 [15]Nevertheless, it was a later book by Burnham, The Struggle for the World (1947)[12] [16] that really gave Nineteen Eighty-Four its horror and worldview. Here, Burnham argued that another World War was likely soon (say, 1950), and something nuclear would probably be in play. This provided the backstory to Oceania’s murky history of war and revolution, along with some early memories for Winston Smith. An “atomic bomb” – as we called them then – was dropped near London in Colchester. Burnham argued that a preventive war might well be necessary before the Soviets get the A-bomb. The rush of events soon outran that warning, needless to say.

But the really vital input from Struggle came from Burnham’s analysis of Communism. International Communism really, truly, does seek mastery of the globe, he maintained. He had made the argument a couple of years earlier, when he was with the OSS, but in 1947 it became the freshest insight in US foreign policy. Furthermore, he focused on a matter that most pundits feared to address, lest they look like unhinged extremists: the integrality of terror to the Communist apparatus. This was obvious to many people in those post-war years, but it was Burnham who took the logical leap and articulated the idea in a book: If your main activity is terror, then terror is your business.

GO84penguin.jpgTo repeat the obvious, Burnham was describing Communism, not some theoretical “totalitarianism,” as in some press blurbs for Nineteen Eighty-Four. As noted, Orwell explicitly disavowed any connection between his fictional “Party” and the Communist one. Nevertheless, the political program that O’Brien boasts about to Winston Smith is the Communist program à la James Burnham. It’s exaggerated and comically histrionic, but strikes the proper febrile tone.

First, some O’Brien:

Power is in inflicting pain and humiliation. Power is in tearing human minds to pieces and putting them together again in new shapes of your own choosing. Do you begin to see, then, what kind of world we are creating? It is the exact opposite of the stupid hedonistic Utopias that the old reformers imagined. A world of fear and treachery is torment, a world of trampling and being trampled upon, a world which will grow not less but more merciless as it refines itself. Progress in our world will be progress towards more pain. . . .

The espionage, the betrayals, the arrests, the tortures, the executions, the disappearances will never cease. It will be a world of terror as much as a world of triumph. The more the Party is powerful, the less it will be tolerant: the weaker the opposition, the tighter the despotism.[13] [17]

Now bits of Burnham:

The terror is everywhere, never ceasing, the all-encompassing atmosphere of communism. Every act of life, and of the lives of parents, relatives and friends, from the trivial incidents of childhood to major political decisions, finds its way into the secret and complete files. . . . The forms of the terror cover the full range: from the slightest psychological temptings, to economic pressure . . . to the most extreme physical torture . . .

* * *

It should not be supposed that the terror . . . is a transient phenomenon . . . Terror has always been an essential part of communism, from the pre-revolutionary days . . . into every stage of the development of the communist regime in power. Terror is proved by historical experience to be integral to communism, to be, in fact, the main instrument by which its power is increased and sustained.[14] [18]

Burnham and Orwell were of very different mentalities, the first always gushing theories with the fecundity of a copywriter dashing off taglines; while the second was constitutionally averse to abstractions and hypotheticals, much preferring near-at-hand things, such as the common toad. It’s striking that Orwell could not only find something useful and intriguing in Burnham, he honored him with a few of the most insightful and appreciative critiques.

JB-SW.jpgIn March 1947, while getting ready to go to Jura and ride the Winston Smith book to the finish even if it killed him (which it did), Orwell wrote his long, penetrating review of The Struggle for the World. He paid some compliments, but also noted some subtle flaws in Burnham’s reasoning. Here he’s talking about Burnham’s willingness to contemplate a preventive war against the USSR:

[Burnham sees that] appeasement is an unreal policy . . . It is not fashionable to say such things nowadays, and Burnham deserves credit for saying them.

But suppose he is wrong. Suppose the ship is not sinking, only leaking. Suppose that Communism is not yet strong enough to swallow the world and that the danger of war can be staved off for twenty years or more: then we don’t have to accept Burnham’s remedy – or, at least, we don’t have to accept it immediately and without question.[15] [19]

Orwell was just using moderation and common sense here, but what he’s suggesting is what in fact began to happen that year (1947). Instead of the predicted war of destruction; policies of “containment,” “rollback,” “interventions”; defense treaties (NATO); and targeted economic aid (Marshall Plan) might work at least as effectively against the Soviets, as well as being far pleasanter and more manageable.

Ironically, Orwell did not pay much attention to what was going on in the outside world that year or next; he had bigger things to worry about. But as the world moved on, it diverged more and more from the fundamental premises of Nineteen Eighty-Four. There wouldn’t be an “atomic war” in 1950 (war, yes; not atomic) and Soviet-style terror regimes weren’t going to swallow all of Europe, however likely that looked in the spring of 1947.

Notes

[1] [20] The actual title of the book on publication date was Nineteen Eighty-Four in London (Secker & Warburg) on June 8, 1949; and 1984 on June 13, 1949 in New York (Harcourt Brace). Orwell and his publisher slightly preferred the numerals, but chose to go with the words for the London edition. Orwell used both styles interchangeably – obviously one is more convenient to type. (George Orwell: A Life in Letters, Ed. Peter Davison [London: W.W. Norton], 2010.)

[2] [21] Cyril Connolly, “Year Nine,” collected in The Condemned Playground (London: Routledge, 1945), originally published in The New Statesman, January 1938. Connolly was inspired by a visit to the “Degenerate Art” exhibition in Munich, where he got the uneasy sense he was expected to leer with a disapproving expression.

[3] [22] Clive Fisher, Cyril Connolly (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1995).

[4] [23] Connolly, The Condemned Playground.

[5] [24] Connolly, The Condemned Playground.

[6] [25] George Orwell, “Such, Such Were the Joys,” Partisan Review, Vol. 19, No. 5 (New York), Sept.-Oct. 1952.

[7] [26] Paul Owen, “1984 thoughtcrime? Does it matter that George Orwell pinched the plot? [27]”, The Guardian, 8 June 2009.

[8] [28] E. (or Y.) Zamyatin, We, tr. Gregory Zilboorg (New York: E. P. Dutton), 1924. This English-language edition was actually the first publication of We.

[9] [29] George Orwell, review of WeTribune (London), January 4, 1946.

[10] [30] George Orwell, Keep the Aspidistra Flying, many editions. Originally: London: Victor Gollancz Ltd., 1936.

[11] [31] James Burnham, The Managerial Revolution (New York: John Day, 1941).

[12] [32] James Burnham, The Struggle for the World (New York: John Day, 1947).

[13] [33] Nineteen Eighty-Four, Part III, iii.

[14] [34] James Burnham, The Struggle for the World (New York: John Day, 1947).

[15] [35] George Orwell, “James Burnham’s view of the contemporary world struggle,” New Leader (New York), March 29, 1947.

 

Article printed from Counter-Currents Publishing: https://www.counter-currents.com

URL to article: https://www.counter-currents.com/2019/06/your-nineteen-eighty-four-sources-in-full/

URLs in this post:

[1] Image: https://www.counter-currents.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/06/6-7-19-33.jpg

[2] The New Statesman: https://www.newstatesman.com/books/2013/03/fitzgerald-woolf-and-j-g-ballard-five-classic-book-reviews-ns-archive

[3] [1]: #_ftn1

[4] [2]: #_ftn2

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[7] Image: https://www.counter-currents.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/06/6-7-19-40.jpeg

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[15] Image: https://www.counter-currents.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/06/6-7-19-41.jpg

[16] [12]: #_ftn12

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[27] 1984 thoughtcrime? Does it matter that George Orwell pinched the plot?: https://www.theguardian.com/books/booksblog/2009/jun/08/george-orwell-1984-zamyatin-we

[28] [8]: #_ftnref8

[29] [9]: #_ftnref9

[30] [10]: #_ftnref10

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mardi, 11 juin 2019

Alba Rosa with Alexander Wolfheze

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Alba Rosa with Alexander Wolfheze

 
 
ar500.jpgAlexander Wolfheze, author of 'Alba Rosa' (https://arktos.com/product/alba-rosa), joins us to discuss what the Traditionalist perspective can teach us about Cultural Nihilism and the crisis of our times.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

18:20 Publié dans Livre, Livre, Traditions | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : tradition, traditionalisme, alexander wolfheze, livre | |  del.icio.us | | Digg! Digg |  Facebook

Histoire de ta bêtise (François Bégaudeau)

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Histoire de ta bêtise (François Bégaudeau)

 
Une note de lecture sur un pamphlet consacré à une certaine forme de bien-pensance macroniste... https://www.amazon.fr/dp/B07L15K26Q
 
Sommaire :
 
Qui est "tu" ? : 2:55
 
"Tu", c'est les macronistes ? : 5:00
 
"Tu", c'est le macronisme ? : 6:20
 
Une révolte intellectuelle : 7:20
 
Une réflexion sur la nature du discours macroniste : 11:10
 
Une réflexion et non un procès : 12:25
 
Le refus de comprendre : 13:30
 
La pensée superficielle : 14:40
 
La destruction de la réalité : 20:15
 
La peur et la fausseté : 27:10
 
La bien-pensance de la nouvelle bourgeoisie cool : 31:25
 
Nihil novi sub sole : 32:50
 
Avis personnel : 34:45
 
Annonce prochaine vidéo : 41:00
 

vendredi, 07 juin 2019

Pierre Le Vigan : en finir avec le cancer du nihilisme

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Pierre Le Vigan : en finir avec le cancer du nihilisme

 
Pierre Le Vigan est philosophe. Après une étude approfondie de Nietzsche et Heidegger, il publie "Achever le nihilisme" aux éditions Sigest. Un essai sur une idéologie selon laquelle les choses ne signifient rien et vont vers rien. Une force qui ronge l'homme et détruit le désir du bien et de la vie.
 
 
 

13:34 Publié dans Livre, Livre, Philosophie | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : pierre le vigan, livre, philosophie, nihilisme | |  del.icio.us | | Digg! Digg |  Facebook

mercredi, 05 juin 2019

Le populisme ou la mort - Olivier Maulin

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Le populisme ou la mort

Olivier Maulin

On connaît la verve satirique qui caractérise les écrits de l'écrivain à succès Olivier Maulin. Le chantre du retour à la vraie nature est aussi un brillant polémiste qui sait porter un regard sans concession sur l'actualité. La preuve par son dernier ouvrage : "Le populisme ou la mort", recueil de chroniques parues dans Minute.
 

mardi, 04 juin 2019

The Jacobin Vision of Social Democracy Won’t Save Us

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The Jacobin Vision of Social Democracy Won’t Save Us

A Review of The Socialist Manifesto by Bhaskar Sunkara

The title of Bhaskar Sunkara’s new book is both bold and smart, from a marketing perspective at least. It’s eye-catching in its reference to The Communist Manifesto. I’m actually a little surprised that apparently no previous book has had that title, since it seems so obvious. The reason may be that other writers have been more humble than Sunkara, and less willing to elicit inevitable comparisons between their work and Marx’s. For no writer, and certainly not Sunkara, will fare well under such a comparison.

But I don’t want to be too harsh on the founder of Jacobin, whose magazine has (whatever one thinks of its particular political line) performed useful services for the American left. Sunkara is not a deep or original thinker, but he’s an effective popularizer—and in an age of mass ignorance, there’s much to be said for popularizations. The book is written for the uninitiated, and if it succeeds in piquing young readers’ interest in socialism, then it has served its purpose.

The title is a misnomer, however, for the book is no manifesto. It is essentially a critical history of socialism with a couple of chapters at the beginning and the end on the present and possible future of the left. The scope is ambitious: it ranges over the German Social Democratic Party up to World War I, the triumphs and tragedies of Leninism and Stalinism in Russia, Swedish social democracy, the record of “socialism” in China and the Third World, and the history of socialists in the U.S., in the process touching on the Labour Party in Britain, the Popular Front period in France, the impact of neoliberalism on the working class, and other subjects. It also has a chapter on fifteen lessons to be gleaned from the history, as well as a whimsical, speculative chapter (the first one) on what it might be like to live in a socialist society and what the transition from a social democratic to a socialist society might look like. Sunkara’s interpretations and ideas come from respectable scholars such as Michael Harrington, Vivek Chibber, and David Schweickart, in addition to younger writers for Jacobin.

bhaskar.jpgThrough most of the book, the arguments are anchored in sturdy common sense, however much one might contest a point or emphasis here and there. On “Third World socialism,” for example, whether in China or Africa or the Americas, Sunkara is right that it turned Marxism on its head, so to speak: “revolutionaries embraced socialism as a path to modernity and national liberation. Adapting a theory that was built around advanced capitalism and an industrial proletariat, they struggled to find ‘substitute proletariats’—from peasants to junior military officers to deprived underclasses—to achieve these ends.” None of it was socialism in the Marxist sense, as coming from the breakdown (literal or not) of capitalism and signifying the liberation of humanity from alienated and exploitative production. It was a “socialism” subordinated to nationalistic ends.

As for social democracy, Sunkara is clearly right that it always faces a “structural dilemma,” in that it exists within capitalism and depends on capitalist profitability. Historically it was safe only as long as there was an expanding economy. “Expansion gave succor to both the working class and capital. When growth slowed [in the 1970s] and the demands of workers made deeper inroads into firm profits, business owners rebelled against the class compromise.” The era of neoliberalism began.

Sunkara’s conclusion to his survey of twentieth-century socialism is appropriate: “The best we can say about socialism in the twentieth century is that it was a false start.” Personally, I would even argue (and have, in Worker Cooperatives and Revolution) that attempts to introduce socialism—which is to say workers’ democratic control of production—exclusively through the bureaucratic initiative of the state, in an international economic environment still completely dominated by the dynamics and the hierarchies of corporate capitalism, were always misconceived. If a transition to genuine socialism ever happens, it will necessarily take generations, generations of struggle around the world directed at everything from the interstitial construction of solidarity economies to the mobilization of millions on behalf of radical political parties.

What Sunkara envisions is that a new kind of “class-struggle social democracy,” of the sort that Jeremy Corbyn and Bernie Sanders advocate, may be achieved after years of popular struggle. But rather than being content with this achievement and possibly letting it be undermined by the capitalist class, as happened to classical social democracy, socialists have to keep pressing for more radical transformations, such as expansion of the cooperative or publicly-owned sector of the economy.

Democratic socialists must secure decisive majorities in legislatures while winning hegemony in the unions. Then our organizations must be willing to flex their social power in the form of mass mobilizations and political strikes to counter the structural power of capital and ensure that our leaders choose confrontation over accommodations with elites.

Eventually, this new social democracy will evolve into socialism, as the state and/or workers take over ownership and control of the remaining private firms.

Sunkara fleshes out these predictions a bit in his first chapter, but I think some skepticism is in order. Social democracy was appropriate to an era of industrial unionism and relatively limited mobility of capital. In a “globalized” age, it’s hard to see how social democracy can simply be reconstructed—in a more radical form, even, than before. History doesn’t work in this way, in which previous social formations are resurrected after they have succumbed to the universal solvent of capitalism. We can’t just return to conditions that no longer exist. That is a key lesson of Marxism itself.

In the U.S., to enact Medicare for All, safe and secure housing for all, free child care, decent public education at all levels, and other reforms Sunkara mentions would require, as he says, that socialists have strong legislative majorities. Given the power of the capitalist class, I don’t see this happening, at least not in the next twenty or thirty years. It took reactionaries decades of organization to achieve their current power—and they had enormous resources and existed in a broadly sympathetic political economy. It’s hard to imagine that socialists will have better luck.

Predicting the future isn’t exactly easy, especially not at this moment when humanity is poised on a precipice overlooking climate change, mass extinction of flora and fauna, economic crisis, complete political dysfunction, and general social breakdown. But my own prognosis would be more pessimistic than Sunkara’s. Neoliberalism has brought to its consummation the fracturing and atomizing of civil society that capitalism has entailed. The nation-state system itself seems in danger of decaying from within, from social crisis. There is no return of vitality and integration on the horizon. There is only a long period of crisis, a period of political flailing and confrontation, of stagnation and polarization, a period that will see lots of little left-wing victories and lots of defeats but few epochal triumphs. (If Sanders or Corbyn achieve power, for example, they will face a business community determined to destroy them.)

Whatever will be happening at the level of the national state, on smaller scales initiatives in the solidarity economy will be spreading around the nation and around the world, from people’s sheer necessity to survive. Activists will be pressing for changes in state policy to facilitate the growth of this non-capitalist economy, and states will be increasingly forthcoming if only because such local and decentralized projects are seen as relatively unthreatening to capitalist power. As left-wing parties acquire more influence, they will press for the expansion of this cooperative sector of the economy—along with other policies that are more directly and immediately threatening to capitalism. The reactionaries can’t control everything forever (otherwise society would completely collapse), and the left will begin to have more political victories to approximately the degree that a cooperative sector invested in the left grows. As repeated economic crises will be destroying huge amounts of wealth and thinning the ranks of the capitalist hyper-elite, a new society and economy will gradually emerge in the womb of the old regime.

In my above-mentioned book I argue that this scenario, which will unfold over many decades, is the only truly Marxist or materialist conception of socialist revolution, notwithstanding most Marxists’ hostility to any conception hinting of “gradual change.” The Jacobin social democratic scenario is naïve and ahistorical.

Nevertheless, Sunkara’s book is of value. Little in it will be new to long-time leftists, but American political culture could certainly use more popularizations like The Socialist Manifesto. We have a long, long war ahead.

Chris Wright has a Ph.D. in U.S. history from the University of Illinois at Chicago. He is the author of Notes of an Underground Humanist and Worker Cooperatives and Revolution: History and Possibilities in the United States. Read other articles by Chris, or visit Chris's website.

dimanche, 19 mai 2019

Bulletin célinien n°418 (mai 2019)

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Bulletin célinien n°418 (mai 2019)

BCmai19couv.jpgSommaire :

Carnaval à Sigmaringen (mars 1945)

Malaparte et Céline

Quand Kaminski taillait un costume à Céline

Raymond Giancoli dans sa correspondance avec Albert Paraz.

 

Céline, Vailland et Chamfleury

par Marc Laudelout

Andrea Lombardi est sans nul doute le célinien le plus actif d’Italie. Outre un blog entièrement dédié à son auteur de prédilection, on lui doit plusieurs ouvrages dont une superbe anthologie, richement illustrée, éditée en 2016 par son association culturelle “Italia Storica”. Depuis plusieurs années, il n’a de cesse de rendre accessible au lectorat italien des textes peu connus de Céline (dont sa correspondance) mais aussi des témoignages et des études littéraires qu’il réunit dans des ouvrages de belle facture.

celinevailland.pngAujourd’hui, il publie une plaquette réunissant les pièces du dossier polémique qui opposa Céline à Roger Vailland. Celui qui joua le rôle d’arbitre fut Robert Chamfleury (1900-1972), de son vrai nom Eugène Gohin. Comme chacun sait, il était locataire de l’appartement juste au-dessous de celui de Céline, au quatrième étage du 4 rue Girardon, à Montmartre. Après la guerre, il réfutera Vailland et affirmera que Céline était parfaitement au courant de ses activités de résistant. Au moment critique, Chamfleury lui proposa même un refuge en Bretagne. Dans une version antérieure de Féerie pour une autre fois, Céline le décrit (sous le nom de “Charmoise”) « cordialcompréhensif, conciliant, amical ».  Sa personnalité est aujourd’hui mieux connue : parolier et éditeur de musique, Robert Chamfleury était spécialisé dans l’adaptation française de titres espagnols ou hispano-américains. Il fut  ainsi une figure marquante de l’introduction en Europe des compositeurs cubains, et des rythmes nouveaux qu’ils apportaient. Il travaillait le plus souvent en duo avec un autre parolier, Henri Lemarchand. Lequel préfaça La Prodigieuse aventure humaine (1951, rééd. 1961) de son ami qui, sur le tard, rédigea plusieurs ouvrages de vulgarisation scientifique et de philosophie des sciences. Céline lui accusa réception avec cordialité de cet ouvrage et l’invita à venir le voir à Meudon. Dans sa plaquette, Andrea Lombardi reproduit la version intégrale de la lettre que Chamfleury adressa au directeur du Crapouillot, telle qu’elle parut, pour la première fois, dans le BC en 1990.

Un biographe de Céline a admis qu’il a fait preuve de « suspicion systématique » [sic] envers son sujet ¹. C’est aussi le seul à avoir mis en cause le témoignage de Chamfleury, instillant même le doute sur ses activités de résistant. Les auteurs du Dictionnaire de la correspondance de Céline précisent, eux, qu’il « appartenait au bloc des opérations aériennes, responsable donc de nombreuses missions de parachutage ». En fait, c’est plutôt le témoignage de Roger Vailland qu’il eût fallu mettre en question. Dans un livre de souvenirs publiés en 2009, Jacques-Francis Rolland, qui appartenait au même réseau de résistance que Vailland, le qualifia de « mélange de forfanterie, d’erreurs, de fausses assertions, affligé par surcroît d’un  style indigne de l’auteur qui n’était manifestement pas dans son état normal lorsqu’il bâcla son pensum, l’un des pires de sa “saison” stalinienne » ².

• Andrea LOMBARDI (éd.), Céline contro Vailland (Due scrittori, una querelle, un palazzo di una via di Montmartre sotto l’Occupazione tedesca), Eclettica, coll. “Visioni”, 2019, 83 p., ill. Traduction des textes français : Valeria Ferretti. Couverture illustrée par Jacques Terpant (10 €)

  1. Propos recueillis de Philippe Alméras in Maroc Hebdo International, 5-11 octobre 1996.
  2. Jacques-Francis Rolland, Jadis, si je me souviens bien, Le Félin, coll. « Résistance-Liberté-Mémoire », 2009. Voir aussi « Roger Vailland l’affabulateur » in BC, n° 313, novembre 2009, pp. 4-8. Rolland et Vailland, qui appartenaient au réseau de résistance “Mithridate », se réunissaient régulièrement dans l’appartement de Chamfleury.