Massimo Magliaro a été un haut cadre du parti nationaliste italien dénommé Mouvement Social Italien (MSI) et a été très proche de l’ancien dirigeant de cette formation politique Giorgio Almirante. Après le décès de ce dernier en mai 1988, Massimo Magliaro est devenu journaliste à la Radio-Télévision italienne, puis directeur de la RAI Internationale et enfin président de la RAI Corporation, filiale de la RAI en Amérique. Il est l’auteur du numéro des Cahiers d’histoire du nationalisme consacré au Mouvement Social Italien (MSI). Lionel Baland l’a interrogé pour Eurolibertés.
En janvier 1995, à Fiuggi, le MSI s’autodissout. L’Alliance nationale (AN) y tient ensuite son premier congrès. Vous écrivez : « Dans son rapport d’ouverture, Fini affirme que les thèses du congrès d’AN, rédigées par un groupe de diverses extractions intellectuelles, ‘’sont les contenus d’une formation politique libérale-démocratique’’. » 
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Dans ce monde du tout utilitaire et du tout jetable, l’ultime herméneutique est le bruissement de la nostalgie fondamentale de l’Être. On ne peut pas ne pas entendre ce bruissement, mais seulement le recouvrir par tous les bruits du monde moderne, voire par les slogans substitutifs tels que « progrès », « liberté » ou même « écologie ». Qui sait aujourd’hui qu’à Fiume on invitait les animaux pour assister aux conférences ?
ex: http://www.counter-currents.com
Gianfranco de Turris
Julius Evola: The Philosopher and Magician in War: 1943–1945
Rochester, VT: Inner Traditions, 2020
This English translation of Gianfranco de Turris’s Julius Evola: Un filosofo in guerra 1943–1945 has come along at just the right time, for it shows us how a great man coped both with societal collapse and with personal tragedy. As the title implies, the book focuses on Evola’s activities during the last two years of the Second World War. However, de Turris goes considerably beyond that time frame, dealing with much that happened to Evola after the war, up until about 1950.
De Turris’s main objectives in this work are to solve a number of mysteries about Evola’s activities at the end of the war, and in the post-war years, and to respond to the philosopher’s critics. Because, until now, so little has been known about these years in Evola’s life, they have been the object of a great deal of speculation, especially on the part of hostile, Left-wing writers. De Turris has uncovered fascinating new information about Evola’s activities and provided definitive answers to a great many lingering questions.
The book begins with an episode that will doubtless be the focus of most critical reviews: Evola’s journey to Hitler’s headquarters in August–September 1943. As the war dragged on, public opinion in Italy had begun to turn against Mussolini, especially after Rome was bombed by the Allies for the first time on the 19th of July. Several members of the government had turned against Mussolini, and the Duce felt compelled to summon the Fascist Grand Council for the first time since the beginning of the war. This turned out to be a mistake, for it passed a motion of no confidence in Mussolini, effectively giving King Victor Emmanuel the power to dismiss him. Mussolini, however, behaved as if nothing of significance had occurred. He appeared for an audience at the royal palace the next day, prepared to brief the King on recent events. Instead, the King had Mussolini arrested and imprisoned in a hotel atop Gran Sasso mountain, the highest peak in the Apennines.
The story of Mussolini’s daring rescue (on the 12th of September) by German commandos flying gliders, led by the legendary Otto Skorzeny, is one of the most famous episodes of the war. Mussolini was immediately flown to Munich and then to Hitler’s HQ (“Wolf’s Lair”) in East Prussia. When he arrived on the 14th of September, Julius Evola had already been there for several days. The philosopher was part of a delegation chosen by the Germans to help advise them on what course to take in Italy. The delegation also included the Duce’s son, Vittorio.
Their journey from Italy was undertaken at considerable risk. The plane carrying Evola narrowly escaped interception by Allied aircraft. On the ground, Evola and others were disguised for part of their journey in Waffen SS caps and coats. Once the philosopher had arrived at Wolf’s Lair, he and the other members of the delegation were received by Joachim von Ribbentrop who communicated to them Hitler’s wish that “the Fascists who remained faithful to their belief and to the Duce were to immediately initiate an appeal to the Italian people announcing the constitution of a counter-government that confirmed loyalty to the Axis according to the commitment first declared and then not maintained by the King” (quoting Evola’s account, p. 20).
Believe it or not, this is one of the less interesting parts of de Turris’s book. Far more interesting is what happens to Evola later. Those already familiar with the details of Evola’s life will know what is coming: his flight from Rome, his injury in Vienna, and his long recovery in the years immediately following the war. This part of the book is more interesting not just because it fills in many blanks in Evola’s biography, but because it reveals a more “human” side to the philosopher. I apologize if this seems a somewhat maudlin way to speak of a man like Evola, but I can think of no alternative.
Those who have read Evola extensively know that the philosopher can often seem as remote as the peaks he climbed in his youth. In de Turris’s account, however, we find an Evola who is initially depressed and dispirited by the outcome of the war, and by his injury. He struggles to make sense out of why these things have occurred, and he struggles to define what his mission must be in the post-war situation. Eventually, he emerges triumphant, but it is instructive to see not only how he overcomes his struggles, but that he struggles. In facing our current situation, in which the Western world (especially the US) seems to be falling down around our ears, Evola’s example gives us strength. We see that even Evola, even this “differentiated type” (to use his terminology) had to struggle with adversity — but that he overcame.
On June 4, 1944, the Allies captured Rome. One of the first things their agents did, just hours after entering the city, was to pay Julius Evola a call. Allied intelligence had learned that Evola’s name was on a list of intended agents of a German-led “Post-Occupational Network” for espionage and sabotage (his codename was “Maria”). They showed up at Evola’s apartment, no doubt with the intention of arresting and interrogating him. However, Evola’s elderly mother detained them at the entrance, while the philosopher slipped unnoticed out a side door. The one thing he took with him was a suitcase containing the materials that would eventually become the three-volume Introduction to Magic (Introduzione alla magia).
Evola then embarked on a long and arduous journey. On foot, he made his way out of the city and located the retreating German troops. They gave him shelter, and eventually, he wound up in Vienna, where he lived under an assumed name. Exactly why Evola headed for Vienna has been something of a mystery, and de Turris spends a good deal of time on it. Incredibly, it appears that Evola went to Vienna to undertake research on Freemasonry at the request of the SD (Sicherheitsdienst; the “Security Service” of the SS)! The SD’s “Office VII” had been engaged in Freemasonic studies, and they were not going to interrupt it for a small thing like the apocalypse.
Evola later told an associate that the SD had assigned him the task of “a purification work and ‘return to the origin’ of the Freemasonic rituals found during the war by the German troops in various countries” (p. 158). Evola was not sure exactly why the SD was interested in this. Had they sent him in search of the Ark of the Covenant, it would hardly be more surprising. In case it is not obvious what Freemasonry had to be “purified” of, Evola actually makes this clear in his autobiography The Path of Cinnabar (Il cammino del cinabro): “[Freemasonry] initially had an initiatic character but later, in parallel with its politicization, had moved to obey and subject itself to anti-traditional influences. The final outcome was to act out the part as one of the main secret forces of world subversion, even before the French Revolution, and then in general solidarity with the revolution of the Third State [sic]” (quoted in de Turris, p. 159; The translator means “Third Estate,” which, in the French Ancien Régime, was made up of the peasants and bourgeoisie).
On January 21, 1945, Evola decided to take a walk through the streets of Vienna during an aerial bombardment by the Americans (and not the Soviets, as has been erroneously claimed). While he was in the vicinity of Schwarzenbergplatz, a bomb fell nearby, throwing Evola several feet and knocking him unconscious. He was found and taken to a military hospital. When the philosopher awoke hours later, the first thing he did was to ask what had become of his monocle. Once the doctors had finished looking him over, the news was not good. Evola was found to have a contusion of the spinal cord which left him with complete paralysis from the waist down. As Mircea Eliade notoriously said, the injury was roughly at the level of “the third chakra.” It resulted in Evola being categorized as a “100-percent war invalid,” which afforded him the small pension he received for the rest of his life.
Why did Evola go for a walk during a bombing raid? Eliade erroneously claimed that Evola “went to fight on the barricades against the Soviet Russian advance on Vienna” (p. 128). Evola provides an answer himself, in a hitherto unpublished letter to the wife of the Austrian conservative philosopher Othmar Spann:
. . . I would always challenge destiny, so to speak. And from here originate my acts of folly on the glaciers and mountains: hence the principle of my not caring or having any concern about the aerial bombardments. And the same goes for when I was in Vienna when the situation had exacerbated to the point of severe danger. . . . In the end I was caught by a carpet bombing in Schwarzenberg. [p. 125]
But when Evola went out walking that fateful day, he had expected that his destiny would be either to live or to die. He was not expecting that he might be destined to live out the rest of his days as a cripple. This turn of events seems to have utterly perplexed the philosopher, and he struggled to make sense of why this had happened to him, and at that point in his life. Matters were complicated by Evola’s belief, stated years later in The Path of Cinnabar, that “there is no significant event in existence that was not wanted by us before birth” (quoted in de Turris, p. 169).
In the same letter to Erika Spann, Evola writes: “What is not clear to me is the purpose of the whole thing: I had in fact the idea — the belief if you want to call it, naïve — that one either dies or reawakens. The meaning of what has happened to me is one of confusion: neither one nor the other motive” (p. 170). De Turris refers to the “incomprehension and disillusionment” Evola experienced “at the outcome and aftermath of the war” (p. 54). The philosopher had been struggling to understand the cataclysm that had engulfed Europe and destroyed Fascism and National Socialism, concerning which he had cautiously nurtured certain hopes. Now, additionally, he had to make sense of why fate had chosen to permanently cripple this Western kshatriya, this man of action. It is difficult to imagine the desolation and inner turmoil Evola had to endure in the years immediately following the war. Again quoting the letter to Frau Spann: “In this world today — in this world of ruins — I have nothing to do or look for. Even if tomorrow everything magically returns to its place, I would be here without a goal in life, empty. All the more so in this condition and in this clinic” (pp. 199-200).
Evola was eventually transferred to a hospital in Bad Ischl, where he received better treatment. De Turris offers a rather harrowing account of the various operations and therapies used to treat Evola, mostly without success. Despite his condition, while at Bad Ischl, Evola actually traveled to Budapest, where he remained for a couple of months before returning to Austria. Little is known about what Evola was doing in Budapest or who helped him get there (though we now know the address at which he was living). De Turris argues persuasively that Evola went there to be treated by the famous Hungarian neurologist, András Pető, who had some success in the treatment of paralysis using unconventional methods. Unfortunately, he was not able to help Evola.
From the beginning, Evola had entertained the possibility that his paralysis was “psychic” in nature. He was encouraged in this belief by René Guénon, with whom he continued to correspond from his hospital bed in Bad Ischl. Guénon wrote to him:
According to what you tell me, it would seem that what really prevents you from recovering is more of a psychic nature than physical; if this is so the only solution without doubt would be to provoke a contrary reaction that comes forth from your own self. . . . Besides, it isn’t at all impossible that something might have taken advantage of the opportunity provided by the lesion to act against you; but it’s not at all clear by whom and why this may have occurred. [p. 148]
In fact, there does seem to be something mysterious about Evola’s condition. In 1952, he was visited in his apartment by several associates, including the anthroposophists Massimo Scaligero and Giovanni Colazza. During this visit, the men saw Evola move his legs – something that, given his paralysis, should have been completely impossible. After leaving Evola’s presence, they were naturally eager to discuss this. It was reported that Colazza said to Scaligero, “Of course he could! But he doesn’t! He does not want to do it” (p. 197).
Setting this mystery aside, Evola appears to have become reconciled to his condition by reminding himself that, after all, the body is but a temporary vehicle for the spirit. In a letter to a friend, he states that “in regard to my situation — even if I had to remain forever like this, which is not excluded — it spiritually does not signify anything more for me than if my car had a flat tire” (p. 168). Another friend, a Catholic priest, naïvely suggested that Evola travel to Lourdes in hopes of a miracle cure at the Sanctuary of our Lady. Evola responded with kindness and patience, saying, “I have already told you how little this thing means to me . . . The basic premise, which is that of an ardent desire for a healing, is first of all lacking. If grace were to be asked for, it would rather be to understand the spiritual meaning as to why this has happened — whether it remains this way or not; even more so, to understand the reason for my continuing to live” (pp. 168-69).
And, in time, Evola does seem to have come to some understanding of why fate had dealt him this hand, though he never made public these very personal reflections. On the eve of the philosopher’s return to Italy in August 1948, his doctor at Bad Ischl reported that “the general state of the patient has improved considerably in these last days, the initial depressions have become lighter, the irascibility and the problems of relationship with the nursing staff and patients have declined markedly” (p. 176). Indeed, one imagines that Evola was not an ideal patient. He wrote to Erika Spann of the “spirit-infested atmosphere of the diseases of these patients” (p. 193; italics in original).
What undoubtedly lifted Evola’s spirits is that he had at last defined what was to be his post-war mission. In The Path of Cinnabar, he writes that
The movement in the post-war period should have taken the form of a party and performed a function analogous to that which the Italian Social Movement [MSI] had conceived for itself, but with a more precise traditional orientation, belonging to the Right, without unilateral references to Fascism and with a precise discrimination between the positive aspects of Fascism and the negative ones. [Quoted in de Turris, p. 54]
Concerning this, de Turris comments that “all of his [post-war] publishing activities and book-writing projects were specifically oriented in this direction” (p. 54). In 1949, Evola began writing again, initially under the penname “Arthos.” He wrote in bed, in pencil, with a lap desk placed before him, or he used a typewriter, seated at his desk in front of the window. His French biographer, Jean-Paul Lippi, referred to him as “an immobile warrior.”
Around this time, Evola learned that he had become an idol of Right-wing youth in Italy. In September 1950, he addressed the National Youth Assembly of the MSI in Bologna. The inclusion of Evola seems to have been last-minute. The organizers heard that the philosopher was staying at a nearby hospital and paid him an impromptu visit. One of the men present offers this moving account of what happened next:
We introduced ourselves and invited him to attend the assembly. He made himself immediately available and expressed great interest. He asked us if he could have the time only to change and shave. I remember that in his haste he had a small cut on his cheek. We carried him in our arms and placed him in the German military truck. Upon entering the assembly hall he was warmly welcomed by our group and since Evola was unknown to me as a thinker, Enzo Erra introduced him as a heroic invalid of the Italian Social Republic. On stage, while I was supporting him, I noticed that he was pleasantly surprised and moved by the welcome of hundreds of young people. He silently fixed his attention and listened intently to the various interventions, and at the end of the proceedings we took him back to the hospital. It was at that moment that we had the idea of asking him to write a booklet that would be a guide, and that was how the Orientamenti was born. The next day we accompanied him to a small mountain hotel in the Apennines. [p. 207]
Julius Evola was back. Indeed, he wrote some of his most important books in the post-war years: Men Among the Ruins, The Metaphysics of Sex, Ride the Tiger, The Path of Cinnabar, Meditations on the Peaks, and others. Arguably, he enjoyed far more influence after the war than he ever did before. Disturbed by his influence on the youth, Italian authorities arrested Evola in May 1951 and put him on trial for “glorifying Fascism.” He was acquitted — something that would be unimaginable in today’s world, given its unironic concern with “social justice.”
This book is required reading for admirers of Evola, and students of traditionalism generally. It should also be read by Leftist critics of Evola — though it will not be, or, if it is, the contents will be distorted and misrepresented. You see, de Turris does almost too thorough a job of demolishing Evola’s detractors. One wishes, in fact, that he had spent a little less time jousting with these people, as they all come off as dishonest lightweights. Still, I suppose it is necessary. And “jousting” is an appropriate term, as de Turris’s defense of his mentor is gallant and virile in the best tradition of the “aristocrats of the soul.” He has learned from a master, and in his voice we sometimes hear an echo of Evola’s own. De Turris is well-qualified to tell Evola’s story: he knew the philosopher personally, and is the executor of his estate.
Among the fine features of this volume are two interesting appendices. The first consists of illustrations, some of which are fascinating. One is a reproduction of the top of a cigar box signed by the men present at Wolf’s Lair, including Evola, Vittorio Mussolini, and others. The second appendix consists of hitherto-unpublished translations of several articles Evola wrote in 1943 for La Stampa, the daily newspaper in Turin. I will close with a quote from one of these, which is not only prescient, given Evola’s fate after 1943, but also particularly relevant to the situation in which we now find ourselves:
From one day to another, and even from one hour to another, an individual can lose his home to a bombardment: that which has been loved the most and to which one was most attached, the very object of one’s most spontaneous feelings. . . . It has become blatantly clear . . . as a living fact accompanied with a feeling of liberation: all that is destructive and tragic can have value to inspire. This is not about sensitivity or badly understood Stoicism. Quite the contrary: it is a question of knowing and nurturing a sense of detachment from oneself, people, and things, which should instill calm, unparalleled security, and even . . . indomitability. . . . A radical breakdown of the “bourgeois” that exists in every person is possible in these devastating times. . . . [To] make once more essential and important what should always be in a normal existence: the relationship between life and more than life . . . During these hours of trials and tribulations the discovery of the path, where these values are positively experienced and translated into pure strength for as many people as possible, is undoubtedly one of the main tasks of the political-spiritual elite of our nation. [pp. 261–62]
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As far as my own person, things have not always gone the best for me: a war wound prevents me from walking and I can remain seated only for a few hours a day. I returned to Italy in 1948, but I’ve had to stay in nursing homes, so that I returned to my former home in Rome only last May. Subsequently a strange thing happened: I was … arrested. At the margins of so-called “neofascism” (MSI – Movimento Sociale Italiano) groups were formed that committed some foolish acts (bombings). Since my writings were read in those circles with great frequency and my person was rather highly regarded as a “spiritual father”, they wanted to attribute to me the responsibility of a movement of which I knew almost nothing, and they accused me of the alleged defense of “fascist” ideas (“apologist for Fascism”). The story ended last month with my complete innocence; the only consequences were free publicity in my favour and a bad impression for the imposing, far-sighted state police.
«Alcuni storici asseriscono […] che il Mussolini della RSI era influenzato da Bombacci, cioè uno dei fondatori del PCI che si arruolò volontario nella RSI per difendervi la propria idea e perdervi la propria vita. Può darsi […] che Mussolini fosse influenzato da Bombacci; ciò non toglie, egregio Senatore, che è in nome di quel Mussolini che Lei ha combattuto (se mai ha veramente combattuto) nella RSI. È inutile dire che di citazioni “filocomuniste” e “filorusse” di Mussolini-maestro-di-Pisanò ne potremmo produrre ancora ben più di una, inchiodando Pisanò al palo della sua ignoranza o a quello del suo tradimento (scelga lui, giacché il suo filoamericanismo “fascista” è sinonimo o di ignoranza sull’autentica essenza del fascismo, oppure è consapevole tradimento). Ma il punto è anche un altro, giacché essendo noi per l’Eurasia non siamo affatto per il “comunismo” e, in ogni caso, il regime al potere in Russia non ha niente a che vedere con il comunismo marxista, né con quello leninista né con quello stalinista. Anzi, l’attuale premier [Michail Sergeevič Gorbačëv, dal 1985 segretario generale del PCUS e presidente dell’Unione Sovietica, n.d.a.] si sta dimostrando un burattino del potere mondialista, potere del quale già abbiamo detto e molto ancora diremo.»[4]
NOTE
Marco Fraquelli, autore del volume A destra di Porto Alegre. Perché la Destra è più no-global della Sinistra (Rubbettino, 2005) sottolinea – pur essendo egli stesso di sinistra e discepolo del politologo Giorgio Galli – che i movimenti noglobal, nati a Seattle nel 1999 e protagonisti di importanti battaglie storiche, come la nascita nel 2001 del Social Forum di Porto Alegre in contrapposizione al World Economic Forum di Davos, e la contestazione del G8 di Genova, tendono “a contestare la globalizzazione convinti comunque che si tratti di un fenomeno che, attraverso opportuni correttivi, possa virare verso orizzonti positivi”, “che possa esistere insomma una globalizzazione ‘dal volto umano’, che sia possibile in altri termini, definire e imporre una nuova governance (e questo spiega per esempio le istanze per l’applicazione della Tobin Tax, per la cancellazione del debito contratto dai Paesi poveri, ecc.)” (1): ciò mostra che questi movimenti accettano le implicazioni della globalizzazione, rifiutando solamente il lato economico (“la Sinistra ha come obiettivo la mondializzazione senza il mercato” scrive Jean-François Revel), essendo figli dell’universalismo.
La nouvelle droite svilupperà le prime analisi sul mondialismo, che non declinerà mai nel cospirazionismo, descrivendolo come un tratto ontologico del capitalismo stesso, che per sua natura non può rimanere relegato entro i confini di un singolo Stato ma ha la tendenza a ‘mondializzarsi’. L’analisi del fenomeno viene fatta nel 1981 dall’esponente del Grece Guillaume Faye nel libro Le système à tuer les peuples (Il sistema per uccidere i popoli), dove l’autore, citando Weber, Schmitt, Habermas e la Scuola di Francoforte – ergo, non intellettuali di destra – spiega che dal 1945 si sarebbe sviluppato globalmente un Sistema, descritto in questi termini: “La caratteristica precipua del Sistema, che oggi esercita la sua azione alienante e repressiva in gradi diversi su tutti i popoli e tutte le culture, è in effetti quella di essere costituito da un insieme di strutture di potere – di carattere principalmente economico e culturale, ma anche direttamente politico, tramite le grandi potenze e le istituzioni internazionali – completamente inorganico, funzionante in modo meccanico, senza altro significato che la propria sopravvivenza ed espansione in vista di un’uscita definitiva dell’umanità dalla storia [...] le espressioni particolari del suo potere sociale sono [...] il monopolio dell’informazione e l’uso repressivo del potere culturale” (4). Una descrizione che ricorda la Megamacchina “tecno-socio-economica” analizzata negli anni Novanta da Serge Latouche, “un bolide che marcia a tutta velocità ma [che] ha perso il guidatore”, i cui effetti determinano “conseguenze distruttive non solo sulle culture nazionali, ma anche sul politico e, in definitiva, sul legame sociale, tanto al Nord quanto al Sud” (5). La principale arma usata dal Sistema per “uccidere l’anima” (l’identità) è una subdola forma di penetrazione culturale che omologa i costumi e, in conformità al vigente complesso economico, i consumi. Gli Stati Uniti, visto il loro carattere antitradizionale (è una nazione giovane nata dall’immigrazione e dal melting pot di popoli diversi fra loro) sono vittime stesse del Sistema da loro creato, che procede da solo per mezzo di una “classe tecnocratica cosmopolita” (manager, amministratori delegati, decisori finanziari) che dirige una politica ormai svuotata da ogni potere: “Contrariamente alle tesi marxiste, nessun ‘direttore d’orchestra’ più o meno occulto ci governa. Nessuna volontà coscientemente programmata anima l’insieme per mezzo di decisioni globali a lungo termine. Il potere tende a non aver più né ubicazione né volto; ma sono sorti poteri che ci circondano e ci fanno partecipare al nostro proprio asservimento. La ‘direzione’ delle società si effettua oggi al di fuori del concetto di Führung. Il Sistema funziona in gran parte per autoregolazione incitativa. I centri di decisione influiscono, tramite gli investimenti, le tattiche economiche e le tattiche tecnologiche, sulle forme di vita sociale senza che vi sia alcuna concertazione d’assieme. Strategie separate e sempre impostate sul breve termine si incontrano e convergono. Questa convergenza va nel senso del rafforzamento del Sistema stesso, della sua cultura mondialista, della sua sovranazionalità, così che il Sistema funziona per se stesso, senza altro fine che la propria crescita. Le sue istanze direttive molteplici decentrate, si confondono con la sua stessa struttura organizzativa. Imprese nazionali, amministrazioni statali, multinazionali, reti bancarie, organismi internazionali si ripartiscono tutti un potere frammentato. Eppure, a dispetto, o forse proprio a causa dei conflitti interni d’interessi, come la concorrenza commerciale, l’insieme risulta ordinato alla costruzione dello stesso mondo, dello stesso tipo di società, del predominio degli stessi valori. Tutto concorda nell’indebolire le culture dei popoli e le sovranità nazionali, e nello stabilire su tutta la Terra la stessa civilizzazione” (6). Il Sistema cancella i territori e le loro sovranità, modellandole così a immagine e somiglianza dell’unico sistema vincente, quello nordamericano: “Il mondialismo del Sistema non procede dunque per conquista o repressione degli insiemi territoriali e nazionali, ma per digestione lenta; diffonde le sue strutture materiali e mentali insediandole a lato e al di sopra dei valori nazionali e territoriali. Si ‘stabilisce’ come i quaccheri, senza tentare di irreggimentare direttamente, [...] parassitando i valori e le tradizioni di radicamento territoriale. La presa di coscienza del fenomeno si rivela di conseguenza difficile. Parallelamente alla loro formazione ‘nazionale’ i giovani dirigenti d’azienda del mondo intero hanno oggi bisogno, per vendersi e valorizzarsi, del diploma di una scuola americana. Niente di obbligatorio in questa procedura; ma poco a poco il valore di questo diploma americano e ‘occidentale’ soppianta gli insegnamenti nazionali, la cui credibilità deperisce. Un’istruzione economica mondiale unica vede allora la luce. Essa veicola naturalmente l’ideologia del Sistema” (7).
Ergo, la nouvelle droite, grazie al volume di Guillaume Faye, de-ebraicizza e de-complottizza l’analisi sul mondialismo, anche se negli ambienti del radicalismo di destra il concetto continuava sovrapporsi alla retorica antigiudaica. Non è casuale che Orion, che nel decennio Novanta sarà Organo del Fronte antimondialista, nei primi anni di vita editoriale, e cioè fra il 1984 e il 1987 circa, userà ancora tematiche cospirazioni ste antigiudaiche pescate dai Protocolli dei Savi di Sion, denunciando alleanze occulte fra l’alta finanza, ovviamente ebraica, le organizzazioni massoniche con a capo il B’nai B’rith, e i numerosi circoli sionisti sparsi in tutto l’Occidente, descritti come “l’architrave del progetto mondialista” dato che sarebbero tutti “casa, borsa e Sinagoga” (8). Il sionismo e il mondialismo sarebbero quindi considerate le due facce della stessa medaglia: il sionismo è “una delle componenti più importanti [...] del discorso mondialista” si legge in Orion, “il sionismo [...] è genocida e razzista [...] oggi l’unico vero razzismo esistente al mondo è quello praticato dal sionismo nazionale e internazionale. Un razzismo che affonda le sue radici nella storia, nella cultura e nella religione ma, certamente, l’unico vero e identificabile potere razzista e genocida” (9).
Fondamentali poi i club internazionali politici, i quali ufficiosamente fungerebbero da cardine fra i vari “attori mondialisti”, quali la Trilateral Commission, il Bilderberg Group e il Club di Roma, a cui Orion dedica numerose analisi e, all’inizio, l’inserto Orion-finanza – diretto dal torinese Mario Borghezio, poi esponente della Lega Nord e tramite fra il Carroccio e il radicalismo di destra. Nell’ultimo fascicolo, il numero 4 del maggio 1986, Orion pubblica per la prima volta l’elenco dei membri della Trilateral Commission, organizzazione che prende il nome dalla teoria del suo ideologo, Zbigniw Brzezinsky, che teorizza la fine del bipolarismo indicando in “tre pilastri” – Usa, Giappone e Europa occidentale – gli attori di un progetto liberoscambista capace di avvicinare tali zone per poi unificare il sistema economico-finanziario. Grazie a pubblicazioni di questo tipo – nonostante persista una certa retorica antiebraica – Orion cerca di archiviare l’ormai vetusta e desueta teoria del ‘grande complotto’ a opera della “grande piovra ‘giudaico-massonica’ che manovrerebbe tutto. Descrivendo un vertice della Trilateral tenutosi a Madrid dopo la riunione del G7 a Tokyo a metà anni Ottanta, che vedeva riunite persone come David Rockfeller, Isamu Yamashita, Giovanni Agnelli, Zbigniew Brzezinski (ex consigliere di Jimmy Carter) e Robert McNamara, tutti interessati alla Spagna soprattutto dopo il suo ingresso nella Comunità europea per il suo ruolo strategico (“trampolino di lancio per la strategia mondialista americana”) per le sue relazioni coi Paesi arabi, il Nord Africa e l’America Latina, ruolo svolto precedentemente dal Giappone per l’Europa, Murelli scriverà: “Chi oggi si domanda come sia stata possibile l’espansione dell’industria giapponese in così breve tempo, trova in questa autorevole dichiarazione la risposta al quesito”. La Trilateral Commission “sta soppiantando le vecchie strutture mondialiste quali la Massoneria”. Infatti, continua Murelli, “è forse un caso che la politica finanziaria nazionale di questi ultimi tempi ha come chiodo fisso, per esempio, l’internazionalizzazione non solo dei capitali, ma anche e soprattutto delle imprese e della produzione? È forse un caso che se mentre colano a picco personaggi come Calvi e Sindona emergono i vari De Benedetti, Berlusconi, Agnelli ecc.? È forse un caso che proprio Agnelli si sia battuto affinché l’affare Sirwkoski fosse vantaggioso per un’impresa americana piuttosto che da un’impresa italiana? E ancora: è un caso che l’Avvocato sostenga l’acquisto di Alfa Romeo da parte della Ford, azienda automobilistica che attraverso la sua Fondazione – ma guarda caso! – assieme alla Lilly Endowment, alla Rockfeller Brothers Fund e alla Kattering Fondation ha, fin dall’inizio, costituito una delle principali fonti di finanziamento della Trilateral?” (16).
Le pubblicazioni della Società Editrice Barbarossa, contestando l’analisi complottista, inizieranno a identificare negli Stati Uniti il principale motore del mondialismo (contraddicendo così l’analisi di Guillaume Faye secondo cui tale processo di omologazione non presenterebbe “nessun ‘direttore d’orchestra’ più o meno occulto” che “anima l’insieme per mezzo di decisioni globali a lungo termine”), per il suo volere “la creazione di un unico governo o amministrazione (il Nuovo Ordine Mondiale), di un unico assetto politico, istituzionale e sociale (il liberismo), di un unico sistema di valori (individualismo-egualitarismo-dottrina dei Diritti dell’Uomo), e quindi di un unico insieme di costumi e di stile di vita (il consumismo) estesi a tutta la Terra e funzionali al dominio assoluto da parte delle forze politiche, economiche e culturali che lo incarnano: le élite della finanza mondiale!” (17). Si attacca l’Occidente, un sistema americanocentrico (una centralità dovuta al fatto che la stragrande maggioranza delle multinazionali e le più influenti lobby finanziarie hanno la loro sede legale negli Stati Uniti), anche se i suoi centri d’irradiazione sono policentrici e sparsi in tutto il globo. Infatti, “le imprese multinazionali – oltre l’80 per cento dei casi a sede statunitense – dominano il mercato delle principali derrate di base e degli altri settore chiave (macchinari industriali e agricoli, fertilizzanti, elettronica, ecc.)” (18). Gli ingredienti per la creazione di questo One World (il Nuovo Ordine Mondiale) uniformato all’American way of life sarebbero le “strutture tecnoeconomiche, l’ideologia universalista e la sottocultura di massa che potremmo definire – sottolinea Faye – ‘americano occidentale’”.
Identificando nel monoteismo giudaico-cristiano la cultura principalmente responsabile della genesi del mondialismo, notiamo come il gruppo di Orion recuperi le suggestioni neopagane della nouvelle droite, però scevre da ogni rimando di tipo antisemita. L’altra peculiarità del mondialismo è il rifarsi all’“ideologia universalista”, espletata “sia attraverso l’utopia cosmopolita e pacifista alla Emergency oppure tramite lo sbrigativo pragmatismo yankee alla Bush”, una “moderna religione” laica che fa sua la dottrina dei diritti umani, “la suprema espressione dell’Egualitarismo”, una “tendenza storica nata e affermatasi per la prima volta nella storia con il giudeo-cristianesimo e in seguito dispiegatasi storicamente nelle sue varianti laiche (democrazia liberale, comunismo, mondialismo ecc.)”, che impone una “morale presuntamente universale [che] fornisce l’armatura ideologica a un neo-colonialismo che al posto del ‘fardello dell’uomo bianco’ ha oggi come giustificazione un devastante cocktail di angelismo e ipocrisia. [...] La distruzione dei popoli passa anche da qui, dall’imposizione a livello planetario dei ‘valori’ occidentali e dalla conseguente disintegrazione di ogni legame organico, di ogni tradizione particolare, di ogni residuo di comunità – tutti ostacoli alla presa di coscienza della nuova ‘identità globale’ da parte del cittadino dell’era della globalizzazione. [...] rigettare la dottrina dei diritti dell’uomo non significa parteggiare per lo sterminio, per l’ingiustizia o per l’odio. [...] Il riconoscimento dei diritti umani, di per sé, non fonda proprio nulla, se non quel tipo di giustizia e di libertà che, tautologicamente, si trovano espresse... nella dottrina dei diritti umani! Malgrado il fatto che i sostenitori di tale dottrina continuino a pensare di aver ‘inventato la felicità’, occorre sostenere con decisione che un’altra giustizia, un’altra libertà, un’altra pace sono possibili. Opporsi ai diritti dell’uomo significa rifiutare una morale, un’antropologia, una certa idea dei rapporti internazionali e della politica, una visione del mondo globale figlia di una tendenza storica ben individuabile” (20).
Un antimondialismo che non è anticapitalismo
Una delle motivazioni di tale crisi, rileva il filosofo marxista Domenco Losurdo, è da ricercare dal fatto che la sinistra italiana e occidentale risulta assente, incapace di rendersi realmente indipendente dal sistema imperialistico, quando non colpevole di aver spianato la strada a un neoimperialismo di ritorno sotto forma di guerre di esportazione della democrazia occidentale, veicolando un pregiudizio eurocentrico e inconsciamente razzista. Secondo Losurdo questo avviene perché s’è creata una dicotomia fra marxismo occidentale, “che ha sviluppato una sua personale riflessione separandosi dallo sviluppo del pensiero marxista nel resto del mondo, un marxismo occidentale che ha influenzato i movimenti della cosiddetta ‘nuova sinistra’ e il filone sviluppatosi dal ‘68 in poi, divenendo egemone dopo il crollo dell’Unione Sovietica. Un pensiero, i cui cantori odierni sarebbero Negri, Hardt, Zizec e prima ancora Foucault e Arent, che ha rimosso dalle sue riflessioni il nodo della lotta antimperialista di matrice leninista e quello sullo sviluppo delle forze produttive, come invece hanno continuato a fare quei movimenti affermatisi fuori dall’Occidente, che si sono posti l’obiettivo di fare uscire dalla miseria e dalla fame centinaia di milioni di essere umani” (27). Tutti intellettuali – pensiamo alla fortuna entro Rifondazione comunista o nell’area noglobal del libro di Toni Negri e Michael Hardt Impero e Moltitudini – che non contestavano la globalizzazione in quanto tale, ma solo la sua governance èlitaria, auspicandone, come notava Fraquelli all’inizio, una dal “volto umano”, cioè gestita dal basso.
Le 27 septembre 1930, Jim Barnes, qui a tout de même quarante ans, épouse Buona Pia Felice Guidotti, la fille d’un général italien ; le couple (qui a reçu les félicitations de Mussolini et du Pape) aura un fils, Adriano, dit « Job », qui naît l’année suivante (27). Les activités du CINEF étant sur le déclin, Jim travaille désormais comme directeur des ventes chez Vickers Aviation, ce qui ne l’empêche aucunement de poursuivre son activité éditoriale. Toujours soucieux de mieux faire connaître au public anglophone la doctrine mussolinienne, il publie, en 1931, Fascism (Londres, Thornton Buttersworth Ltd), un petit livre qui connaîtra plusieurs rééditions. Fidèle à ses convictions spirituelles, c’est une interprétation très chrétienne du fascisme que Jim offre à ses lecteurs. Pour lui, le saint-patron du fascisme n’est autre que François d’Assise, et quant à son modèle absolu, c’est Ignace de Loyola : « Jamais peut-être n’a existé un homme associant aussi parfaitement, et en un seul individu, la pensée et l’action », affirme-t-il. « Il fut à la fois un philosophe, un soldat et un mystique. Il connaissait la valeur de la discipline et de l’autorité » (p. 76). Le fascisme, précise-t-il aussi, est « une force positive dont le but est de promouvoir la vertu » ; ce « n’est pas seulement un système politique ou social (…) mais une philosophie globale de la vie, une religion » (p. 18). Pour Jim, le fascisme « est une vigoureuse révolte contre le matérialisme, c’est à dire contre toutes les façons d’interpréter le monde d’un point de vue purement naturaliste et individualiste » (p. 43). Et « un gouvernement fondé sur le principe [autoritaire fasciste] », tranche-t-il, « serait en parfaite symbiose avec la tradition romaine » (p. 113). Le fascisme, c’est également un mouvement qui « fait tout ce qu’il peut pour éduquer les gens, pas seulement dans la perspective d’augmenter leurs connaissances, mais bien dans celle de forger les caractères, de promouvoir le jugement intuitif (jusqu’alors très négligé) et de développer le civisme et le sens moral » (p. 114). « Le fascisme », proclame-t-il enfin, « est décidé à faire des jeunes une génération d’individus qui croient à la Providence Divine, les hérauts d’un âge de foi ; à faire des jeunes une génération qui, grâce à sa foi, ne connaît pas la peur, va galvaniser l’esprit de sacrifice, affronter gaiement tous les dangers, soutenir la bonne cause, et subir le martyre avec le sourire » (p. 50). On voit que le disciple anglais du Duce ne manque pas de ferveur !
C’est donc au Tyrol du Sud qu’il apprend la mort du Duce (28 avril 1945), un drame qu’il n’hésite pas à qualifier de « plus grand crime depuis la crucifixion ». Activement recherché par les services secrets et la police militaire britanniques, Jim plonge dès lors dans la clandestinité la plus stricte. Son épouse demeure à Mérano, sans se cacher, mais lui-même disparaît totalement de la circulation. On le croit au Vatican, hébergé au Collège Pontifical Saint-Bede que l’on surveille en vain durant plusieurs mois. En fait, le fugitif est parti pour Bergame puis a trouvé refuge dans un couvent sicilien où il va séjourner jusqu’en août 1947. Pour quelqu’un d’aussi pieux que lui, cette réclusion monacale n’est pas un problème. À la fin de l’occupation britannique, il prolonge d’ailleurs sa retraite – on n’est jamais trop prudent – et continue à bénéficier de l’hospitalité de divers monastères, dans le Latium et le Piémont. Ce n’est qu’en septembre 1949 qu’il réapparaît au grand jour et retrouve les siens à Rome. Quatre ans ont passé, on est en pleine guerre froide et Londres ne s’intéresse plus du tout à lui. Barnes n’a renoncé à aucune de ses convictions mais la page du fascisme semble désormais tournée. Employé par une compagnie pétrolière, il garde le contact avec quelques vétérans de l’épopée mussolinienne mais n’a plus vraiment d’activité politique. Il correspond toutefois, de temps en temps, avec Ezra Pound et adresse même une lettre à Churchill pour lui demander d’intercéder en faveur du poète qui se morfond toujours à l’hôpital St Elizabeths, à Washington. En 1953 et avec dix ans de retard, Jim connaît enfin l’immense satisfaction d’être officiellement naturalisé italien. Il devient définitivement Giacomo Barnes, identité sous laquelle il succombe le 25 août 1955, et qui figure sur sa tombe au cimetière romain du Verano. « Aucun Italien digne de ce nom » affirmera l’historien et diplomate Luigi Villari (1876-1959), « n’oubliera jamais ce cher Jim, ses sacrifices pour la cause italienne, et les risques qu’il a courus pour la servir ».
We will surely remember 1994 better than 1984, which Orwell immortalised by writing his celebrated apocalyptic book predicting an ultra-totalitarian world in which we all would have been irredeemably crushed. We will not remember it solely for the political event of 27 March in Italy, but above all for the consequences that this “reversal” might (I insist on the conditional!) have in the cultural sphere. Whatever one may thing of the victory of Berlusconi and his allies, it has already had a first result: the organisation of a colloquium dedicated to the personality of Giovanni Gentile; it was held in Rome on 20 and 21 May 1994 on the initiative of the leftist municipal council (which does honour to the Italian left, as does the other colloquium it dedicated to Nietzsche). We remember he whom we always defined as the “philosopher of Fascism,” fifty years after his death, when he was assassinated by a commando of communist partisans in Florence on 15 April 1944. After having beaten a long and sinuous intellectual course, many post-Marxist philosophers, such as Colletti, Marramao and Cacciari, claimed him for an authentic figure of the left, at least in a decent part of his work.
In her 2013 biography of d’Annunzio, 
La thèse n’est pas nouvelle. En 1984, le Club de l’Horloge sortait chez Albin Michel Socialisme et fascisme : une même famille ?. Ne connaissant pas ce livre, Frédéric Le Moal arrive néanmoins aux mêmes conclusions. Il se cantonne toutefois à la seule Italie en oubliant ses interactions européennes, voire extra-européennes (le péronisme en Argentine). Il circonscrit le fascisme en phénomène italien spécifique. Certes, il mentionne l’influence d’Oswald Spengler sur Mussolini, mais il en oublie le contexte international, à savoir l’existence protéiforme d’une révolution conservatrice non-conformiste. En outre, l’auteur ne souscrit pas à la thèse de Zeev Sternhell pour qui le fascisme italien a eu une matrice française. 
Dentro del GRECE (Groupement de recherche et d’études pour la civilisation européenne – Grupo de Investigación y Estudios para la civilización europea), se dedicó a estudiar con detenimiento la filosofía política -Machiavelo, Hobbes, Hegel, Pareto, Carl Schmitt, Oswald Spengler, Ernst Jünger, Moeller van den Bruck, Heidegger, Arnold Gehlen, Konrad Lorenz, etc.-. También desarrollaría un gran interés por las teorías geopolíticas europeistas de Jean Thiriart. Dueño de un estilo original y de una inteligencia muy lúcida, Faye ocupó un puesto importante en el GRECE y se convirtió en un referente de la Nouvelle Droite. Desde las páginas de Nouvelle École y Eléments puso su pluma al servicio del polo antimodernista del movimiento: por ello sus textos del período se destacan por su duro repudio a las ideas centrales de la Ilustración (y a sus herederos que buscan promoverlas), por su feroz crítica al materialismo y al consumismo burgués, y por sus despiadados ataques contra la tecnocracia. Alain de Benoist, entusiasmado con su ímpetu militante e impresionado con su rigor intelectual, le encomendó en 1974 la dirección de la revista Études et Recherches, la más académica de las publicaciones de la organización.
En 1997 Faye reingresa al campo político, reincorporándose al GRECE y uniéndose a Terre et Peuple. Al año siguiente publicará L’Archéofuturisme a través de la editorial L’Ancre, propiedad de Gilles Soulas. El texto denuncia el penoso estado presente de la sociedad europea, y propone aliar el espíritu del futurismo con la tradición ancestral indoeuropea, empleando a la tecnociencia para ultrapasar a la Modernidad en lugar de para consumarla. La obra, además, ataca a la estrategia metapolítica de la Nouvelle Droite, reprochándole el no haberse involucrado más activamente en la lucha electoral, lo que sólo habría perjudicado al pueblo francés. Alain de Benoist recibió con poca simpatía al libro. El discurso racialista y evidentemente en contra de la islamización de Europa de Faye quedó más prístinamente plasmado en La colonisation de l’Europe, publicado en 2000 también por la editorial L’Ancre. El libro señala que el choque de civilizaciones no puede ser resuelto con la integración o la asimilación, sino que la única salida que garantice la persistencia de la raza blanca es la Reconquista, que no sería más que una nueva guerra étnica. La publicación del libro le costó a Faye y a Soulas una onerosa multa, acusados de actuar con la intención de producir literatura que incite a la discriminación y al odio racial. Además, debido a ello, Alain de Benoist expulsó a Faye del GRECE, y acusó al escritor de haber producido una obra delirante y peligrosa.
En 2004 se editan los libros La convergence des catastrophes y Le coup d’état mondial. El primero, que circuló firmado con el seudónimo «Guillaume Corvus», no es más que un resumen del pensamiento de Faye en el que –adaptando las teorías del matemático René Thom a la sociología– alerta que el sistema europeo está en peligro de colapsar debido a que las catástrofes sociales, económicas, demográficas, ecológicas e institucionales pueden confluir en un mismo momento y destruir lo que queda en pie del orden civilizatorio occidental. El otro libro, en cambio, es un análisis sobre el imperialismo estadounidense, al cual repudia, pero destacando que en Norteamérica existe el potencial para contribuir al freno del genocidio blanco (por ello amplía su idea de la Eurosiberia para incluir a los países americanos en una entidad que denominará «Septentrión»). Gracias a estas ideas su pensamiento fue bien acogido por el paleoconservadurismo norteamericano, lo que le permitiría después ser citado como uno de los inspiradores del movimiento Alt Right, gracias a Jared Taylor de American Renaissance.
Lo cierto es que Delle Chiaie es un personaje central en la acción política patriótica de la Italia de los años 60 y 70, y de las relaciones internacionales de los movimientos nacionalistas de occidente de los 80 y los 90 hasta su regreso a Italia a finales de la centuria para reincorporarse a la política italiana, exonerado de los supuestos crímenes en los que se le incriminaba, como las matanzas de Piazza Fontana de 1969 en Milán, donde murieron 17 personas, o la masacre de Bolonia de 1980, con 85 fallecidos.
Su salida de Italia es fruto de su participación en el golpe de estado de Junio Valerio Borguese, en el año 1970, un pseudo golpe de estado que fracasa y que obliga a Delle Chiaie a dejar Italia.
En 1987 es detenido en Venezuela y trasladado a Italia para ser enjuiciado, siendo absuelto de toda responsabilidad penal por los distintos atentados en los que se le incriminaba en nueve distintos juicios. Años más tarde, ante la Comisión contra el terrorismo que en Italia trató de dilucidar aquellos años de violencia, durante una audiencia de 1997, encabezada por el senador Giovanni Pellegrino, Stefano Delle Chiaie siguió hablando de una «internacional fascista negra» y su esperanza de crear las condiciones de una «revolución internacional». Habló de la Liga Anticomunista Mundial, pero dijo que después de asistir a una reunión en el Paraguay, la había abandonado afirmando que era una fachada de la CIA. Lo único que admitió haber tomado parte en la organización del Nuevo Orden Europeo (NOE).
Membre des forces armées de la République sociale italienne (1943 – 1945), Pino Rauti milite ensuite parmi les jeunes du Mouvement social italien (MSI). Il conçoit le fascisme comme un dépassement national, populaire et social-révolutionnaire de la droite et de la gauche. Il discute souvent avec Julius Evola et organise bientôt un courant évolien, « Les Fils du Soleil », au sein du MSI. Il quitte cependant le parti qu’il juge conservateur, droitier et bourgeois en 1956. Il a auparavant créé le Centre d’études Ordine Nuovo. Vu par les autorités comme un « Gramsci noir » (pour la chemise), il affirme depuis la tribune d’un congrès du MSI en 1954 : « La démocratie est une infection de l’esprit. » Arrêté une dizaine de fois et parfois détenu de façon préventive en prison, Pino Rauti a été soupçonné de contribuer à la « stratégie de la tension ». La justice l’a toujours innocenté de toutes ces accusations.
« Je suis de ceux qui considèrent que l’OTAN n’est pas notre destin ! (Éléments, art. cit., p. 25). » Par conséquent, « il faut que notre continent retrouve ses racines, et non pas qu’il fasse resurgir les fantômes de ses passions chauvines (Le Choc du Mois, p. 58) ». Pour lui, « l’Europe doit rompre avec un système occidental qui s’identifie de plus en plus à la seule société de consommation, et qu’elle doit dénoncer un impérialisme culturel américain qui provoque, chez nous comme ailleurs, des phénomènes de déracinement et d’érosion de la mémoire historique. Combattre l’américanisme et l’occidentalisme signifie défendre les valeurs les plus authentiques de l’homme européen en même temps que lutter pour la cause des peuples (Éléments, art. cit., p. 24) ». Cet engagement national-révolutionnaire se révèle prématuré; les électeurs se détournent du MSI de Pino Rauti et choisissent les ligues qui constitueront sous peu la Ligue du Nord. Les élections administratives de 1991 sont un désastre. Par ailleurs, au moment où le FN de Jean-Marie Le Pen délaisse son atlantisme et s’oppose à toute aventure militaire occidentale contre l’Irak de Saddam Hussein qui vient de récupérer sa province légitime, le Koweït, Pino Rauti, vieux tenant du dialogue euro-arabe, soutient l’intervention étatsunienne. Son propre courant explose dès lors ! Il démissionne du secrétariat général le 6 juillet 1991, aussitôt remplacé par Gianfranco Fini.
Très vite, dans son atelier de la rue de Tourville, à l’instar des salons d’Anna de Noailles, mais avec plus d’inventive faconde, V. de Saint-Point stimula, entre les différentes disciplines et leurs représentants, les rencontres dédiées à la rénovation des esthétiques. L’étude des religions, des mythes gréco-romains et des doctrines secrètes, le spiritisme et l’occultisme, y tenaient bonne place par l’intermédiaire du poète Vivian de Mas dont le théosophisme aigu dégageait des perspectives vers les sphères supérieures, vers les races et les cycles.
Toutefois, ce qui prime dans ces principaux recueils, Poèmes de la Mer et du Soleil, L’Orbe pâle, La Soif et les Mirages, c’est la mise en place progressive d’une écriture féminine. Non pas d’une écriture féministe mais d’une écriture au féminin qui promeut plus la femme intérieure que la femme sociale. Non pas d’une écriture revendicative mais d’une écriture créative qui énonce les règles d’une esthétique féminine à part entière et qui essaie de s’affranchir des représentations masculines et littéraires de l’Éternel féminin pour, en quelque sorte, réaliser la Femme éternelle. Et cette Femme ne sera ni la Salomé décadente, ni la Nana naturaliste, ni l’Amazone symboliste, ni la précieuse ridicule des salons, mais procèdera de mythes puissants, qui affleureront dans Les poèmes d’Orgueil et s’imposeront dans son triptyque romanesque de L’amour et de la Mort, dont les romans, Un Amour, L’Inceste, Une mort, seront une déclinaison de la femme en trois archétypes classiques : Aphrodite, Déméter, Hécate.
V. de Saint-Point se proclamait femme d’avant-garde. Affairée à la nouveauté, elle trouva le Futurisme dont les scandales péremptoires, les facultés de provocation, l’idéologie de la révolte, de la tabula rasa et de la collision, le volontarisme, la fascinèrent et lui permirent d’exaspérer beaucoup de ses convictions, et dont, plus avant, elle enrichit la doctrine qui, derrière la personnalité percutante et lyrique de son chef de file F.T. Marinetti, assénait le mépris du sexe faible : « Nous, futuristes, nous honnirons les femmes tant qu’elles empêcheront les hommes de conquérir le monde en les emprisonnant dans les pièges de l’amour et du snobisme, tant qu’elles constitueront autant de chaînes à briser, d’entraves pour le combat et pour la lutte. »
Secondement, en conceptualisant la surfemme, véritable parèdre du surhomme nietzschéen. Surfemme qui, refusant « les morales et les préjugés » qui la dévoient, prépare, dans l’élan dominateur de tout son instinct vainqueur, l’avènement d’une humanité supérieure d’où les compatissants seront sans merci éliminés : « Que la femme retrouve sa cruauté et sa violence qui font qu’elle s’acharne sur les vaincus parce qu’ils sont vaincus, jusqu’à les mutiler. Qu’on cesse de lui prêcher la justice spirituelle à laquelle elle s’est efforcée en vain. Femmes, redevenez sublimement injustes, comme toutes les forces de la nature ! »
À l’avenant, et de manière prépondérante, V.de Saint-Point s’investit dans un autre art de scène : la chorégraphie, qu’elle magnifia en Métachorie (du grec méta : déplacement, changement, ou, succession; et khoreia : danse).
