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mercredi, 09 janvier 2013

Le roman de Charette

Philippe de Villiers:

le roman de Charette

 9782226244215.jpg

« Combattu souvent, battu parfois, abattu jamais » : la vie de François-Athanase Charette de la Contrie est à l’image de sa devise. Vendéen comme lui, Philippe de Villiers nourrit depuis longtemps un attachement tout particulier pour ce héros dont le destin fait écho à sa propre histoire familiale. Au point de s’identifier à lui et de ressusciter, sous forme de mémoires imaginaires, la vie aventureuse de cet homme aussi séduisant qu’intrépide, fidèle envers et contre tout à une cause : « la Patrie, la Foi, le Roi ».

De sa brillante carrière dans la Marine royale, intégrée à l’âge de quatorze ans, à ce jour de 1793 où, à la tête d’une troupe de paysans du Marais breton, Charette part à l’assaut de la République, Philippe de Villiers ressuscite la flamboyante épopée d’un homme dont l’audace et le courage, la personnalité singulièrement libre et moderne, n’ont pas fini de fasciner.

Le roman de Charette, Philippe de Villiers, Albin Michel, 2012, 480 pages, 22,00 €.

mardi, 08 janvier 2013

Introduction to Guillaume Faye’s book Convergence of Catastrophes

Introduction to Guillaume Faye’s book Convergence of Catastrophes, published by Arktos Media

An Explosive Cocktail

The modern world is like a train full of ammunition ­running in the fog on a moonless night with its lights out.’ (Robert Ardrey[1])

GFcoc_1.jpgFor the first time in its history, humanity is threatened by a convergence of catastrophes.

A series of ‘dramatic lines’ are approaching one another and converging like a river’s tributaries with perfect accord (between 2010 and 2020) towards a breaking point and a descent into chaos. From this chaos — which will be extremely painful on the global scale — can emerge the new order of the post-catastrophe era and therefore a new civilisation born in pain.

Let us briefly summarise the nature of these lines of catastrophe.

The first is the cancerisation of the European social fabric. The colonisation of the Northern hemisphere for purposes of permanent settlement by the peoples of the global South, which is increasingly serious despite the reassuring affirmations of the media, is pregnant with explosive situations; the failure of the multiracial society, increasingly full of racism of all kinds with different communities becoming more and more tribal; the progressive ethnic and anthropological metamorphosis of Europe, a true historical cataclysm; the return of poverty to Western and Eastern Europe; the slow but steady growth of criminal activity and drug use; the continual disintegration of family structures; the decline of educational infrastructure and the quality of academic programs; the disruption of the transmission of cultural knowledge and social disciplines (barbarisation and loss of needed skills); the disappearance of popular culture and the increasing degrading of the masses by the culture of spectacles.[2] All this indicates to us that the European nations are moving toward a New Middle Ages.[3]

But these factors of social breakdown in Europe will be aggravated by the economic and demographic crisis which will only get worse and end by producing mass poverty. By 2010 the number of active workers will not be large enough to finance the retirements of the ‘grandpa boomers’. Europe will collapse under the weight of old people; then its ageing countries will see their economies slowed and handicapped by payments for healthcare and retirement benefits for unproductive citizens; in addition, the ageing of the population will dry up technical and economic dynamism. In addition to these problems, the economy will increasingly resemble the Third World because of the uncontrolled immigration of unskilled populations.

Modernity’s third dramatic line of catastrophe will be the chaos of the global South. By displacing their traditional cultures with industrialisation, the nations of the South, in spite of a deceptive and fragile economic growth, have created social chaos that is only going to get worse.

The fourth line of catastrophe, which has recently been explained by Jacques Attali,[4] is the threat of a world financial crisis, which will be much more serious than the crisis of the 1930s and will bring about a general recession. The harbinger of the crisis will be the collapse of the stock markets and currencies of the Far East, like the recession that is striking this region.

The fifth line of catastrophe is the rise of fanatical religious cults, principally Islam. The rise of radical Islam is the backlash to the excesses of the cosmopolitanism of modernity that wanted to impose on the entire world the model of atheist individualism, the cult of material goods, the loss of spiritual values and the dictatorship of the spectacle. In reaction to this aggression, Islam has radicalised, just as it was already becoming once again a religion of domination and conquest, in conformity with its traditions.

The sixth line of catastrophe: a North-South confrontation, with theological and ethnic roots, will appear on the horizon. It is increasingly likely to replace the risk of an East-West conflict, which we have so far avoided. No one knows what form it will take, but it will be serious, because it will be based on collective challenges and sentiments much stronger than the old and artificial partisan polarity of the USA and USSR, capitalism and Communism.

The seventh line of catastrophe is the uncontrolled increase of pollution, which will not threaten the Earth (which still has four billion years to look forward to and can start evolution over again from zero), but the physical survival of humanity. This collapse of the environment is the fruit of the liberal and egalitarian myth (which was once also a Soviet myth) of universal industrial development and a dynamic economy for everyone.

We can add to all this the probable implosion of the contemporary European Union, which is increasingly ungovernable, the risks involved with nuclear proliferation in the Third World, and the probability of ethnic civil war in Europe.

The convergence of these factors in the heart of a globalised and very fragile civilisation allows us to predict that the Twenty-first century will not be the ‘progressive’ continuation of the contemporary world, but the rise of another world. We must prepare ourselves for this tragic possibility with lucidity.

Believing in Miracles

We are dealing with a general prejudice inherited from the egalitarian and humanitarian utopias, like the philosophy of Progress, according to which ‘we can have everything at the same time’ and that reality never has negative consequences.

People believe they can have their cake and eat it too. They imagine, according to the liberal faith, that an ‘invisible hand’ will spontaneously restore a harmonious equilibrium. I shall mention a few examples of believing in miracles:

•    Imagining that the dogma of the unlimited economic development of every nation is possible without massive pollution and ecological catastrophes that will destroy this very development. This is the illusion of indefinite development.

•    Believing that a permissive society will not produce a social jungle, and that you can obtain at the same time libertarian emancipation and self-disciplined harmony. We see this drama being acted out in the shipwreck of our schools, where violence, insecurity, ignorance, and illiteracy are arising out of the illusion of progressive education, an educational method which rejects any form of discipline for its students.

•    Believing that it will be possible to preserve retirement systems and social and medical entitlements while remaining faithful, in a period of demographic decline, to the ideal of ‘solidarity of distribution’. This is the illusion of the Communist conception of solidarity.

•    Believing that large-scale alien immigration is compatible with the ‘values of the French Republic’ and the preservation of the civilisation of the nations and peoples of Europe; and that Islam can become secular and blend in with republican values. Believing also that we can renew the working population by importing immigrants, when these immigrants are unskilled welfare recipients and our responsibility. Imagining also that by regularising the status of masses of illegal immigrants, it will be possible to assimilate them and avoid the arrival of new masses, although we observe exactly the opposite. This is the illusion of the benefits of immigration.

•    Extolling the assimilation and integration of aliens while wanting to preserve and maintain their special characteristics, their original cultures, their memories and native mores. This is the communitarian illusion, one of the most harmful of all, which is particularly cherished by ‘ethno-pluralist’ intellectuals.

•    Imagining that by cancelling Third World debt we can encourage their economic growth and prevent new indebtedness in the future. This is the Third Worldist illusion.

•    Demanding at one and the same time that we abandon nuclear energy programs and replace them with power plants using natural gas, coal and petroleum, while advocating the reduction of polluting gases. This is the ecologist’s illusion.

•    Thinking that a world economy founded on short term speculation based on computerised markets and replacing monetary policies with the caprice of financial markets will guarantee a lasting ‘new growth’. This is the illusion of the new economy.

•    Believing that democracy and ‘republican values’ will be reinforced by eliminating ‘populism’, that is, the direct expression of the will of the people.

I could make the list longer. In all these matters, believing in miracles can be explained by the incorrigible optimism of the secular religion of egalitarian progressivism, but also by the fact that, although it has reached an impasse, the dominant ideology does not dare deny its dogmas or make heartbreaking revisions, while clinging to the idea that ‘the storm will never come’. The whole thing is explained by the sophisms of bogus experts, whose conclusions are always that everything is going well and getting better and that we have the situation under control. They are like a driver who speeds through a red light and justifies it by explaining that the faster he drives, the less time he spends in the intersection and therefore reduces the risk of a collision.

Man, a Sick Animal

Paul MacLean,[5] Konrad Lorenz,[6] Arthur Koestler,[7] and Jean Rostand[8] have sensed that man is a sick animal, endowed with a brain that is too large. Conscience is perhaps, on the evolutionary scale, an illness and intelligence a burden. Man has lost touch with his natural survival instincts. We have not been on the Earth for a long time and it may be that, from life’s point of view, or Gaïa’s,[9] we are a failed species, an abortive experiment; and that, especially by destroying the ecosystem that supports it, the suicidal human race is hastening its own disappearance.

Our neocortex, which some biologists compare to a tumour, does not function sufficiently in symbiosis with our reptilian brain. This is ‘cerebral schizo-physiology’, the source of a chaotic and self-destructive culture: wars, religious fanaticisms, frenzied exploitation of nature, aberrant demographic proliferation or, on the other hand, catastrophically low birth levels, frustrating natural selection, etc.: Homo sapiens sapiens does not deserve the name he has given himself. He is not ‘wise’, only intelligent. But he will perhaps perish from this excessive intelligence, which is pushing him to excess, hybris[10], and is making him lose every instinct of collective survival and all capacity to ‘feel’ the dangers that are piling up.

The Golem Parable, or the Machine that Went Mad

Humanity has lost control of the forward rush of the technological and globalised civilisation born in the Nineteenth century. We should remember the parable of the Golem, the Jewish allegory from Prague, in which a mud figure brought to life by magic escapes its maker, becomes an autonomous and out of control entity, and then starts spreading terror.

Today’s little Jules Vernes[11] are mistaken. Optimistic and short-sighted mechanics, they are only making the situation worse. More than that, they are not in control of the machine and have no idea where it is heading. There really is a pilot in the airplane, but he is convinced that he is driving a locomotive.

Among the inescapable trends at work today, there are other risks that are unforeseeable today but which will make things worse (or perhaps better, but this is less likely), or else create new tendencies or new earth-shattering phenomena. At any rate, it is hard to see any positive signs. All the indictors are flashing red.

In futurology, there are only two types of extrapolation from current trends that one can make with a high degree of probability: the weak and the strong. Today predictions are typically based on weak extrapolations. These latter are, for example, the pursuit of economic growth, linear and continuous technological progress, scientific civilisation, the affirmation of democracy everywhere in the world (who is telling us that Europe will be ‘democratic’ in 2030?); the lasting character of the United Nations; the effectiveness of antibiotics in the next century, and so on.

We are less concerned with strong extrapolations, which have a good chance of being realised in the next twenty years: the demographic disequilibrium of North and South that will grow massively; the unavoidable ageing of the indigenous European population; the growth of mass immigration into rich countries; the worsening of pollution, atmospheric warming and the exhaustion of resources, which is growing worse regardless of what measures may be taken today on a global level (and they are not being taken); the rising power of Islam; the worsening of social disintegration in Europe along ethnic lines, etc. All these strong extrapolations are headed in the direction of the system’s breakdown, and are what we might call ‘pessimistic’.

The ‘Billiard Ball’ Theory

The current implicit ideology that dominates the world, especially in the West, still continues to profess, officially, the utopia inherited from the egalitarian philosophy of the Enlightenment (Eighteenth century), positivism[12] and scientism (Nineteenth century): to create a situation where, in a few decades from now, some eight billion people will live on the planet with a good standard of living and democracy for all. All this resembles the billiard player who imagines that after four or five rebounds his ball will automatically fall into the hole. These professors of ballistics are playing golf, but they do not know it.

It is a quasi-certainty that this persistent belief in progress and modernity, concepts which the political classes of the West are always jabbering about and which are totally obsolete, will never see its objectives occur. The dream will shatter into pieces. Constraining forces, a physical wall, makes this ideology resemble a mass of intellectual stupefaction and belief in miracles.

The demanding parameters, mentioned above, based upon the assumption that current realities will persist and that current projections for the future will be realised, are not taken into account. No one is looking at the dashboard or the fuel gauge. Only the short-term counts, but for how much more time? The majority of the elites do not concern themselves with the long term, or even the middle term, in this civilisation of the here and now. The fate of future generations does not interest the decision-makers at all. They care only about their own careers.

*  *  *

They are helped by the experts in every field, who practice constant disinformation and censorship of pessimism, taking advantage of the good old Coué method of optimistic autosuggestion:[13] ‘Everything is going badly, so, to reassure myself, I say that everything is going well.’ Actually pessimism would be more convincing, since it incites people to improve matters and to try to cure the disease. Alas, I think that is already too late. We have passed the point of no return.

The majority of intellectuals, media people, politicians and businessmen maintain a language of utopian optimism, clinging to their dogmas and making a gross travesty of reality: ‘republican assimilation is making progress and will continue to make progress in France’; ‘we are on the path to control massive illegal immigration’; ‘Islamism is in decline’; ‘we are on track to win the war on terror’; ‘economic growth will resume next year and, because of the economic recovery, unemployment will go down’ (when tomorrow comes, erasing it will cost nothing); ‘we are going to establish democracy in the Near East’; ‘we can stop using nuclear power and reduce pollution by making more efficient use of other resources, even if we go back to power plants that use petroleum, natural gas and coal’; ‘we are going to find the money to pay for the costs of healthcare insurance without increasing public borrowing’; and so on.

We go forward each time either by lying and misrepresenting the objective situation, or by deliberately ignoring the parameters and changes that are taking place.

If elites of all different kinds pretend to believe this nonsense, public opinion (once upon a time we used to say, ‘the people’) subscribes to it less and less. Pessimism is present everywhere, like a sort of presentiment of a coming apocalypse. Already in 1995, an IFOP[14] poll published in the Leftist newspaper Libération revealed that to the question, ‘In ten years will we live in a better world?’ 64 % of those polled responded in the negative. They were not mistaken.

‘Catastrophe Theory’ and ‘Discrete Structural Metamorphoses’

In his ‘catastrophe theory’ French mathematician René Thom[15] explained that a ‘system’ (whether physical-chemical, mechanical, climatic, organic, social, civilisational, etc.) is an always fragile ensemble that can suddenly lurch into chaos, without anyone anticipating it, as a result of an accumulation of factors. It is the famous ‘drop of water that causes the cup to overflow’. Every system is unstable and every civilisation is mortal, like everything in the universe. But sometimes the collapse is violent and sudden. For a long time a system can be worn away from inside by an endemic crisis; it holds out for a long time and then, suddenly, everything tips over. We find here the law of viral and bacterial biology: incubation is slow, but the final attack is as fast as lightning. A tree, apparently in good health, falls down during the first storm, although no one suspected that its insides were eaten away.

History offers us examples of sudden and unforeseen collapses: the Amerindian civilisation after the Spanish invasion, or else the Egyptian empire facing the assault of the Romans. I am defending the thesis that this is what awaits today’s global civilisation in the next twenty years. We are going to hit a very sudden breaking point arising from the simultaneous convergences of great crises. It is easy to envisage spectacular and rapid historical reversals.

*  *  *

It is always necessary to beware of surprises, these unforeseen and sometimes discrete transformations, which turn everything upside down. They radically modify a system’s structure, without making a loud noise and suddenly, their consequences explode and change everything. That is what is heading for us today. They are ‘discrete structural metamorphoses’.

We believe that we are still living in world X, when we are already in world Y, and the house of cards of the old world collapses without warning. These metamorphoses do not always make the front pages of newspapers; they take place without making a fuss. They constitute history’s infrastructure, not its ephemeral surface.

The founding of the Fifth Republic,[16] the fall of Communism, the results of American elections, etc., are events that depend on the superstructure. On the other hand, what we have called the ‘discrete structural metamorphoses’ will have incalculable consequences. For a generation they have been increasingly frequent and rapid. They are transforming the face of our civilisation.

Let us mention some cases. In France and Belgium, and soon in other countries, the number of active practitioners of Islam is soon going to surpass that of the Christian churches; the depopulation of Europe has begun as the radical ethnic modification of its population; the Spanish language has already equalled and even surpassed English in the American Southwest; some twenty nations possess the technology for making nuclear weapons; in a number of Western countries the traditional family is collapsing and a demographic coma is in place; the ‘casino economy’, purely speculative and unregulated, stretches over the entire world, especially in China, which still calls itself ‘Communist’; antibiotics are less and less effective against bacterial epidemics, and so on.

We are in control of none of these structural metamorphoses. And very few people are aware of the power of their interaction.

We Must Stop Believing in Sorcerers: Techno-science Gone Mad

The elites who direct the Western world, the over-credentialed ‘experts’, are pulling the wool over our eyes. They possess neither strategy nor mastery of analysis and are satisfied with tactics. The real problems are never investigated. The solutions are rhetorical or electoral. The good apostles, bureaucrats with MBAs from prestigious schools, are only masters of words. No improvement is in sight. The Golem’s inexorable march continues.

The burden of ‘doing nothing’ is the heaviest. But the experts and specialists (once called ‘savants’) are consoling us. They play the role sorcerers played in ancient societies.

*  *  *

No one is directing science and technology any longer and, far from improving the human condition as they used to, they are making it worse, notably by exhausting resources and destroying the environment. The modern myth of ‘development’, which is venerated more than ever all over the world, leads to its opposite, a gigantic regression, a race to the bottom. No authority, no international planning has emerged. Globalisation is anarchy. The backdrop of this fatal movement is generalised individual consumerism, the search for the highest possible standard of living, unbridled enthusiasm for the free market, the speculative economy and the cult of ‘taking each day as it comes’.

Similarly, democracy has to be seen as an aggravating factor, for this type of regime removes any central authority that can, when it sees the storm appearing, react in an emergency. Liberal democracy favours improvidence, the law of the market, and short-term calculation by individuals or corporations. If once upon a time this type of regime was efficient, today it seems incompetent, as it shows every day, to stem the rise of dangers.

International conferences on the environment are a futile waste of time. Just as there is no control over mass immigration, so the destruction of fish reserves and our forest heritage, the increased emission of greenhouse gases, the demographic gap between North and South, etc., are out of control. Even the authorities who arise to reverse the catastrophic course of events, whether they represent countries or the United Nations, do not succeed in correcting the direction of the cargo ship that is going full sail, faster and faster, towards the reefs.

*  *  *

But we are reassured by the ‘experts’ and are still fascinated by techno-science, believing that it will solve all our problems using some new form of magic. Computers, the electric or low-polluting engines, organic agriculture, and pharmaceutical research will not prevent the return of famines and epidemics or the exponential growth of pollution. It is too late. The machine is racing. Intellectuals and ‘philosophers’ have been telling us over and over again for decades that ‘the myth of Progress’ is dead. On the contrary, it has never been in such good shape, especially in the developing countries of the South. We are victims of the psychological condition of derealisation, a loss of the sense of reality of what is happening. Our contemporaries have persuaded themselves that ‘catastrophe cannot happen’ and that this civilisation is at the same time eternal and continually getting better and better, that it will never experience a reversal, and a fortiori[17] not a collapse. Not only is this a possibility, but it will happen, and very soon.

What comforts us in this gloomy illusion is our techno-scientific environment, which we consider to be indestructible, when on the contrary this global civilisation is a colossus with feet of clay. The politicians and the experts, who possess neither audacity nor imagination, reject every radical solution. They always prefer little solutions, tactical or rigged, compromises that please an electorate with cold feet, always respecting the status quo. They believe, like King Arthur, that ‘the fortress is impregnable’ when no one is guarding the walls.[18]

The groundswell — or rather the different groundswells arriving at the same time, demographic, strategic, sociological, economic, environmental — is arrogantly ignored. In France we even use the surreal expression ‘sustainable development’! The dominant ideology, which calls itself rationalist, is really magical. In every area it plays the role of an ‘ideology of sleep’.

*  *  *

We must not forget — and it is one of the central theses of this work — that mini-catastrophes reinforce one another, multiplying their effects among one another to produce a global mega-catastrophe. An accident (of an airplane, for instance) is the result of a series of causes and never just one: for example, the conjunction of a technical problem in the controls, bad weather and pilot error.

It is the same with the situation we are living through, or rather that we are soon going to be living through. For example, the natural calamities produced by global warming aggravate the famines caused by other economic and demographic causes and thus make the economic situation even worse and push the populations of the South to emigrate to the North, thus destabilising the West still more. Growing poverty in certain countries feeds religious fanaticism that, in turn, complicates political instability. And so on.

The system is holistic and interactive, which explains the acceleration of the arrival of the breaking point, since a multitude of crises converge at the same moment, without anyone being able to treat them separately.


[1]     Robert Ardrey (1908-1980) was a widely read and discussed author during the 1960s, particularly his books African Genesis (1961) and The Territorial Imperative (1966). Ardrey’s most controversial hypothesis, known as the ‘killer ape theory’, posits that what distinguished humans’ evolutionary ancestors from other primates was their aggressiveness, which caused them to develop weapons to conquer their environment and also leading to changes in their brains which led to modern humans. In his view, aggressiveness was an inherent part of the human character rather than an aberration. Ardrey’s ideas were highly influential at the time, most notably in the ‘Dawn of Man’ sequence of 2001: A Space Odyssey, and also in the writings of GRECE, in which Ardrey was frequently cited.

[2]     Presumably a reference to ‘society of the spectacle’, a term coined by Guy Debord (1931-1994), a French Marxist philosopher and the founder of the anarchist Situationist International. The spectacle, as described in his principal work, The Society of the Spectacle, is one of the means by which the capitalist establishment maintains its authority in the modern world — namely, by reducing all genuine human experiences to representational images in the mass media, thus allowing the powers-that-be to determine how individuals experience reality.

[3]     This is a concept developed by the French author Alain Minc, in which he predicts a coming time of chaos and hardship resembling the Middle Ages, which will end in the development of a much smaller, but more sustainable, global economy. He discusses this idea in Le Nouveau Moyen-âge (Paris: Gallimard, 1993).

[4]     Jacques Attali (b. 1943) is a French economist who was an advisor to Mitterrand during the first decade of his presidency. Many of his writings are available in translation. Faye may be referring to Attali’s article ‘The Crash of Western Civilisation: The Limits of the Market and Democracy’, which appeared in the Summer 1997 issue of the American journal Foreign Policy. In it, Attali claimed that democracy and the free market are incompatible, writing: ‘Unless the West, and particularly its self-appointed leader, the United States, begins to recognise the shortcomings of the market economy and democracy, Western civilisation will gradually disintegrate and eventually self-destruct.’ In many ways his arguments resemble Faye’s.

[5]     Paul D. MacLean (1913-2007) was an American neuroscientist who developed the triune theory of the human brain, postulating that, over the course of its evolution, the brain was actually made up of three distinct elements: the reptilian complex, the limbic system, and the neocortex. As a result, human behavior is the product of all three tendencies.

[6]     Konrad Lorenz (1903-1989) was an Austrian ethologist who won the Nobel Prize in 1973. He was a member of the National Socialist Party during the Third Reich. He speculated that the supposed advances of modern life were actually harmful to humanity, since they had removed humans from the biological effects of natural competition and replaced it with the far more brutal competition inherent in relations between individuals in modern societies. After the war, his books on popular scientific and philosophical topics earned him international fame.

[7]     Arthur Koestler (1905-1983) was a Hungarian writer who, in his 1967 book The Ghost in the Machine, speculated that the triune model of the brain as described by Paul MacLean was responsible for a failure of the various parts to fully interconnect with each other, resulting in a conflict of desires within each individual leading to self-destructive tendencies.

[8]     Jean Rostand (1894-1977) was a French biologist who was a proponent of eugenics as a means for humanity to take responsibility for its own destiny.  He was also a pioneer in the field of cryogenics.

[9]     Gaïa is the Ancient Greek name for the goddess of the Earth. In recent decades, the name has been adopted by ecologists, who use it to depict the combined components of the Earth as a living organism with its different parts acting in symbiosis with one another, rather than as a resource merely intended to be exploited by humans.

[10]    Latin: ‘pride’.

[11]    Jules Verne (1828-1905) was a French novelist who is regarded as the inventor of the science fiction genre. Several of his books are notable for their predictions of future technological developments.

[12]    Positivism holds that the only knowledge which can be considered reliable is that which is obtained directly through the senses and via the (supposedly) objective techniques of the scientific method.

[13]    Émile Coué (1857-1926) was a French psychologist whose method involved repeating ‘Every day, in every way, I am getting better and better’ at the beginning and end of each day in a ritualized fashion, believing that this would influence the unconscious mind in a manner that would allow the practitioner to be more inclined toward success.

[14]    The Institut français d’opinion publique, or French Institute of Public Opinion, is an international marketing firm.

[15]    René Thom (1923-2002) was a French mathematician who made many achievements during his career, but is best remembered for his development of catastrophe theory. The theory is complex, but in essence it states that small alterations in the parameters of any system can cause large-scale and sudden changes to the system as a whole.

 

[16]    The Fifth Republic began after the collapse of the Fourth Republic in 1958 as a result of the crisis in Algeria, bringing Charles de Gaulle to power and resulting in the drafting of a new constitution. It has remained in effect up to the present day.

[17]    Latin: ‘an argument with a stronger foundation’.

[18]    King Arthur’s Camelot was frequently left unguarded while his knights were engaged in lengthy quests.

Boganmeldelse af Guillaume Fayes ‘Mon programme’

Boganmeldelse af Guillaume Fayes ‘Mon programme’

 

Vi bringer en boganmeldelse, som blev bragt i Den Danske Forenings blad Danskeren nr. 4, 2012. (Ikke online før næste nummer udkommer)

Et ægte systemskifte

Guillaume Faye:
Mon programme.
(Les Éditions du Lore, 2012. 221 sider. 20 euro).

Faye,%20Guillaume%20-%20Mon%20Programme.jpgEt yndet argument mod dem, der ønsker befolkningsudskiftningen og globalismen tilbagerullet, er, at det er urealistisk eller ganske enkelt ikke kan lade sig gøre. Det har derfor stor værdi, at den franske filosof Guillaume Faye nu for sit eget lands vedkommende har skrevet et meget konkret og udførligt program for national genopretning med undertitlen: ”Et revolutionært program, der ikke skal ændre spillets regler, men ændre selve spillet.”

Faye ser økonomien som nøglen til en nations magt, men den er dog kun noget sekundært i forhold til den nationale overlevelse, som afhænger af nationens ”antropo-biologiske germen” – dens demografiske kim eller kerne – samt af kvaliteten og videreførelsen af dens kultur.

Men ikke mindst i Frankrig har socialismen og bureaukratiseringen gået sin sejrsgang i en sådan grad, at kampen mod dette kvælertag på et frit samfund har høj prioritet. Som Faye påpeger, er venstrefløjens kritik af de borgerliges ”ultraliberalisme” og ”kommercialisering” jo helt ude af proportioner i et land, hvor skattetryk og administrationens dødvægt kun slår nye rekorder. Krisen er fremkaldt af bl.a. for lidt økonomisk liberalisme, ikke af for meget. Globaliseringen er et ideologisk valg, for så vidt som 70 % af de firmaer, der er flyttet ud af Frankrig, ville være blevet, hvis der havde været en mere fornuftig skattepolitik. Socialstaten udspringer i bund og grund af misundelse, ikke af seriøs økonomisk analyse. Og den støtter kun, den hjælper ikke grundlæggende. Den lammer og fratager folk modet (også nationalt), og den har skabt en arbejdsløshedskultur, som derpå skaber ”behov” for indvandring: Alene i Frankrig kan man ikke finde indfødte ansøgere til en halv million job. Lediggang er mere indbringende. Det samme er paradoksalt nok kommet til at gælde for de indvandrere, man angiveligt har lukket ind for at løse problemet. Muslimerne i Frankrig (og hele Vesteuropa) forfordeles jo ikke eller holdes som slaver, tværtimod har de fået mere støtte end nogen indfødt gruppe. Sammen med de indfødte bureaukrater i beskyttede stillinger udgør muslimerne (som i bogen kaldes et nyt fødselsaristokrati) i Fayes øjne nutidens udbyttende klasse eller ”parasitter”, som han maner til klassekamp imod på vegne af det produktive folk og de marginaliserede indfødte franskmænd.

Faye foreslår derimod et system, der giver franskmænd incitament til at arbejde, og samtidig giver indbyggere med ikke-europæisk baggrund incitament til at udrejse – altså så lidet tiltrækkende vilkår, at de ikke har grund til at blive i landet. Statslige ydelser såsom børnepenge begrænses til franskmænd, og så snart ikke-vestlige i landet ophører med at være selvforsørgende, skal de ud uanset tidligere status. Illegale indvandrere kan aldrig nogensinde legaliseres og skal selvfølgelig altid udvises umiddelbart.

Desuden er det mht. indvandringen nødvendigt at gå til ondets rod, hvilket de i dag anerkendte ”internationale forpligtelser” ikke muliggør. Derfor må retten til at søge asyl ophæves. Udgifterne til den tvangsmæssige behandling af disse for det meste grundløse sager er jo uhyre. Ej heller kan asylsøgere, der er godkendt andetsteds i EU, få indrejsetilladelse til Frankrig. Flygtninge skal kun anerkendes som en absolut undtagelse via et særlig, personligt dekret fra præsidenten. Endelig overskygges princippet om, at love ikke må have tilbagevirkende kraft, af national nødret.

Faye gør op med den herskende misforståede læsning af Montesquieu, hvorefter domstolene skulle udgøre en ”tredje magt” i samfundet på linje med regering og parlament. Af denne forfejlede læsning udspringer nutidens juristvælde, hvor politikerne angiveligt er magtesløse. Ideen var dog oprindelig, at domstolene kun skulle være en myndighed med en bestemt autoritet, underlagt folkesuveræniteten.

I kriminalitetsbekæmpelsen slagter Faye flere hellige køer. Betingede straffe afskaffes. Enten straffes man eller ej. Og straffens formål skal ikke være ”resocialisering”, men netop straf. Det modsatte fører logisk set i sidste instans til ophævelse af enhver straf, fordi alle ugerninger kan forklares psyko-socialt. Et enkelt og inappellabelt straffesystem har i USA ført til mere end en halvering af kriminalitet på få måneder, og samme resultat kan selvfølgelig nås i Europa. I modsætning til i USA vil Faye dog ikke bruge dødsstraf, men total isolation på livstid som højeste straf. Som alternativ til denne frygtelige skæbne kan den dømte så vælge frivillig eutanasi.

Udenrigspolitisk ønsker Faye, at Frankrig kun blander sig, når landets interesser, borgere eller territorium er direkte truede. Han ser de forskellige ”krige mod terrorisme” diverse steder i verden som direkte kontraproduktive, alt imens befolkningsudskiftningen herhjemme kun fortsætter. Det franske forsvar bør derimod indrettes efter den eventualitet, at massive udvisninger af visse befolkningsgrupper eller etnisk borgerkrig i Frankrig fører til straffeforanstaltninger fra fx USA, hvilket franskmændene så må være i stand til at værge sig mod. NATO må derfor gradvist erstattes af et forsvarssamarbejde mellem nationalt sindede europæiske regeringer. Pirat-uvæsnet mod vestlige skibe vil Faye løse på kort tid ved hjælp af hær og flåde uden at tage fanger.

For Faye at se er ulandene ikke ofre for et ”neoliberalt” udbytningssystem. De er derimod deres egne værste fjender. Ulandshjælp-ideologien er den sande nykolonialisme, som må undsiges, fordi den altid har slået fejl. Han afviser, at ulandshjælp kan ses som et forsøg på at hindre indvandringen til Europa. Den har virket modsat, og i sin bog viser han udførligt, at masseindvandringen netop udmærket kan standses uden ulandshjælp som værktøj. Faye påpeger, at man aldrig i historien har set, at en invasion er standset ved, at man har ”stimuleret” aggressoren til ikke at invadere, kun ved at man har forbudt invasionen med trussel om brug af magt.

Principperne i Fayes program udspringer af hans retsfilosofiske grundanskuelse, som han kalder aristotelisk. Den forkaster formalisme og evige principper og ser udelukkende på realiteten og dens konkrete krav (efter den græske filosof Aristoteles’ modsætningsforhold til Platons idealisme). Faye erkender med Aristoteles, at enhver form for politik har en bagside. Enhver god afgørelse er samtidig problematisk. Det afgørende er bare, at det positive med tiden overskygger det negative. Det moderne ønske om at kunne tilfredsstille alle parter er en illusion. Trods ulemperne for nogle må Faye derfor kalde sit program for ”plan A”, den fornuftige løsning. For plan B, hvor lidenskaberne uundgåeligt på et tidspunkt tager over, kender hverken ”elegance, respekt eller nåde”.

Peter Neerup Buhl

00:20 Publié dans Livre, Nouvelle Droite | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : nouvelle droite, livre, guillaume faye | |  del.icio.us | | Digg! Digg |  Facebook

vendredi, 30 novembre 2012

Prußen - die ersten Preußen

 
Sehr geehrte Damen und Herren,
liebe Kollegen,
 
wir möchten Ihnen eine Neuerscheinung unseres Verlages vorstellen:
 
Beate Szillis-Kappelhoff
Prußen - die ersten Preußen
Geschichte und Kultur eines untergegangenen Volkes
 
395 Seiten, 123 Abbildungen, gebunden, fester Einband
ISBN 978-3-937820-00-2
 
Erscheinungstermin: soeben druckfrisch eingetroffen und ab sofort lieferbar!
 
Preis: 19,80 Euro
 
Beate Szillis-Kappelhoff widmet sich in dieser ersten umfassenden Darstellung der Geschichte und Kultur der Prußen, jenem geheimnisvollen Volk, das dem späteren Staat Preußen seinen Namen gab.

Über viele Jahrhunderte verteidigten die Prußen, die zur baltischen Sprachfamilie gehörten, tapfer und zäh ihr Siedlungsgebiet zwischen der Weichsel und der Minge, also dem späteren West- und Ostpreußen. Schon zu Beginn des 11. Jahrhunderts hatten sich die Prußen stetig zunehmender Übergiffe der Polen zu erwehren, die eine Verbindung zur Ostsee suchten. Als sie zu Beginn des 13. Jahrhunderts aus der reinen Verteidigung zu Vergeltungsschlägen gegen das nordpolnische, masowische Gebiet übergingen, rief der polnische Herzog Konrad von Masowien den Deutschen Orden um Hilfe. Im Laufe des 13. Jahrhunderts gelang es den Rittern des Deutschen Ordens in einem besonders brutal geführten Eroberungskrieg, die Prußen zu besiegen und schließlich zu christianisieren. Aber es dauerte noch Jahrhunderte, bis die Sprache und Kultur der Prußen durch Unterdrückung, Missionierung und Assimilation verloren gingen.

Dieses Buch begibt sich auf die Spurensuche nach der versunkenen Kultur des einst so kämpferischen und stolzen Volkes der Prußen.

Wir möchten Sie bitten, dieses wichtige Werk über eine bedeutende und identitätsprägende Epoche der deutschen Geschichte in Ihr Verkaufssortiment aufzunehmen.

Vielen Dank!

Mit freundlichen Grüßen

Heiderose Weigel

Bublies Verlag - Bergstr. 11 - D-56290 Schnellbach

Tel. 06746 / 730046, Fax: 06746 / 730048

Internet: www.bublies-verlag.de

E-Brief: bublies-verlag@t-online.de

Inhaltsverzeichnis


 

Vorwort /

Geografische Lage /

Die Prußen /

Eigenname, Fehlschreibungen und Aussprache /

Besetzungen durch den Deutschen Orden /

Sonderrolle Memelgebiet /

Unterwerfung /

Freiheitskämpfe /

Lage der ländlichen Bevölkerung /

Fischerei /

Wildnis /

Waldbienenzucht /

Häusliches Leben /

Angebliche Ausrottung /

Schrift der Prußen /

Sprache, Sprachdenkmäler, Namen /

Musik /

Die zwölf Prußenstämme /

Die Sage von Bruteno und  Widewuto und  Brutenos Nachfolger  /            

Barta (Barten) /

Chelmo (Kulmerland) mit Lubawa (Michelauer Land) /

Lubawa (Löbau, Michelauer Land) /

Galindo (Galindien) /

Nadruwa (Nadrauen) /

Notanga (Natangen) /

Pagude (Pogesanien) /

Pamede (Pomesanien) /

Same (Samland) /

Sasna (Sassen) /

Skalwa (Schalauen) /

Suduwa (Sudauen/ Jatwingen) /

Warme (Ermland) /

Religion der Prußen /

Die Naturreligion /

Göttinnen, Schlangen und Kröten /

Götter, Pferde und Ziegenbock /

Romowe /

Geburt und Taufe /

Verlobung /

Hochzeit /

Totenfeier /

Christenzeit /

Die Prußen und ihr nachbarliches Umfeld /

Die Kuren /

Sprachdenkmäler /

Die Karschauer /

Die Žemaiten und die Litauer /

Die Kaschuben, Masovier, Kujavier und Polen /

Prußen heute /

Einige Orts- und Gewässernamen /

Königsberger Stadtteile /

Liste baltischer Götter, Göttinnen und Gottheiten /

Zeittafel /

Literatur /

Weblinks /

dimanche, 25 novembre 2012

Die Kurden – Volk ohne Staat

Kurden2.jpg

„Die Kurden – Volk ohne Staat“ von Gunther Deschner

Herbig, Munchen 2003, 349 Seiten, 24,90 Euro, ISBN 3-7766-2358-6

Von Hans Wagner
 
 
EM – Ein Buch von wahrhaft brennender Aktualität! - Der Krieg, den die USA in den Irak getragen haben, wurde von ihnen nach gängiger Lesart gewonnen. Carl von Clausewitz, der geniale Kriegstheoretiker, würde hier sofort vehement widersprechen. Er würde sagen: Die USA haben ihren Krieg erst dann gewonnen, wenn sie ihre politischen Ziele erreicht haben. Doch davon sind sie meilenweit entfernt. Daß sie auch nicht Frieden schaffen können, zeigt die Situation im Spätherbst 2003 Tag für Tag. Frieden herrscht in der Region Naher Osten allerdings seit Jahrzehnten nicht mehr. Gewalt gehört hier zum Alltag. Die Ursachen sind vielfältig: der Streit um die reichen Ölfelder, die von den einstigen Kolonialmächten England und Frankreich willkürlich gezogenen Grenzen, die widerstreitenden Interessen der verfeindeten Nachbarn und die Einmischung auswärtiger Mächte, insbesondere der USA und Großbritanniens.

Wenn die Kurden im Nahen Osten ins Rampenlicht traten, lag stets Krieg in der Luft

In der Region lebt ein 30-Millionen-Volk ohne eigenen Staat: die Kurden. Das Bergvolk, das seit Jahrtausenden zwischen Mesopotamien und Kleinasien siedelte, drohte oft in seiner Geschichte in Vergessenheit zu geraten – wenn es aber ins Rampenlicht trat, lag stets Krieg in der Luft. Das war so zu Zeiten der Perser, der Kreuzritter, der Mongolen und der Osmanen. Und auch in diesem Jahr ist es nicht anders, nachdem die USA in den Irak einmarschiert sind und dort den Krieg entfesselt haben.

Kurdistan, das Territorium, das die Kurden als Staatsgebiet beanspruchen und das mehrheitlich von ihnen bewohnt wird, ist heute zwischen der Türkei und Syrien, Aserbaidschan, Iran und Irak aufgeteilt. Der jüngste amerikanische Aufmarsch am Golf, der Krieg gegen den Irak, hat die Kurden im Norden des Landes auch in Deutschland wieder in die Schlagzeilen gebracht. Die Darstellung des Schicksals dieses Volkes durch Günther Deschner liefert alle Hintergrundinformationen, die zum Verständnis des ungelösten Problems nötig sind. Der Autor kennt die maßgeblichen kurdischen Politiker und militärischen Führer der vergangenen 30 Jahre persönlich. Kurdistan hat er mehrfach bereist, seine Kompetenz durch Reportagen und Sachbücher belegt.

Die Kurden sind eines der ältesten Kulturvölker der Erde

Die Kurden sind eines der ältesten Kulturvölker der Erde. Ihre Herkunft liegt weitgehend im Dunkel der Geschichte verborgen. Sie beginnt nach grober Schätzung am Ende des zweiten Jahrtausends vor Chr. mit der Einwanderung indogermanischer Arier in das Gebiet des heutigen Irans. Die kurdische Geschichte ist geprägt von einer glanzvollen frühen Vergangenheit, von tiefer Zerrissenheit, von Leid und Unterdrückung. All dies wird in dem Buch lebendig. (Siehe auch EM 02-03 DIE KURDEN).

In Vergangenheit wie Gegenwart waren die Kurden, so der Autor, stets nur Figuren auf dem Schachbrett anderer. Ihre Kultur konnten sie, allem politischen Wechselspiel zum Trotz, zwar über Jahrhunderte behaupten, ihre staatliche Souveränität allerdings nie über einen nennenswerten Zeitraum hinaus sichern. Verträge, die ihnen Eigenständigkeit versprachen, wurden gebrochen, ihre Interessen stets verraten. Die Liste derer, die das Volk der Kurden benutzte, ist lang: In den letzten Jahrzehnten waren es vor allem die Iraker, Iraner, Syrer und Türken, Briten, Franzosen, Russen und – gleich mehrfach – die Amerikaner.

Ob die Kurden jemals ihren eigenen Staat bekommen werden, ist zweifelhaft. Das Dilemma, in dem eines der Länder mit starker kurdischer Bevölkerung steckt, nämlich die Türkei, schildert Deschner ausführlich: Ankara will unbedingt Mitglied der Europäischen Union werden. Dem stand bislang die diskriminierende Behandlung der größten ethnischen Minderheit des Landes, der Kurden, entgegen. Zwar würden jetzt Zugeständnisse gemacht, vor allem was die bislang unterdrückte Sprache angeht. Aber gleichzeitig versucht die türkische Republik, eine kurdische Autonomie oder gar einen kurdischen Staat im Nordirak zu verhindern, weil er dem Unabhängigkeitsstreben der Kurden im eigenen Land nach der Zerschlagung der PKK wieder Auftrieb geben dürfte. Ein selbständiges Kurdistan im Irak würde, zumal, wenn es über Einnahmen aus den Ölfeldern des Nordens verfügen könnte, als Angriff auf die türkische Souveränität verstanden - so Deschners Einschätzung. Die mögliche Rückführung von Kurden, die unter Saddam Hussein aus dem Norden vertrieben wurden, belaste schon jetzt die traditionell guten Beziehungen der Türkei zu den USA. Prüfstein sei die 3000 Jahre alte Stadt Kirkuk, das „kurdische Jerusalem“, das unter Saddam entschlossen arabisiert wurde und das nun die nordirakischen Kurden zu ihrer Hauptstadt machen wollen.

Daß die Kurdenfrage in der internationalen Politik noch lange eine Rolle spielen wird, daran läßt der Autor keinen Zweifel. Ihre Komplexität und Sprengkraft wird durch Deschners sachlich fundierte, spannend geschriebene Darstellung deutlich. Er schildert in seinem Buch die politische Aktualität und das historische Schicksal gleichermaßen. Außerdem liefert er ein Bild dieses faszinierenden Landes, das sich vom biblischen Berg Ararat bis zum Persischen Golf, von Euphrat und Tigris bis zum Hochland des Irans erstreckt.

Ein Personenregister am Schluß des Buches erleichtert es, sich in der aufregenden Geschichte dieses Volkes zurechtzufinden, von den mythischen Gestalten ihrer Anfänge bis zum heutigen Kurdenführer Talabani.

00:05 Publié dans Eurasisme, Livre | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : livre, kurdes, proche orient | |  del.icio.us | | Digg! Digg |  Facebook

mardi, 20 novembre 2012

Un regard canadien sur les cultures, les identités et la géopolitique

Un regard canadien sur les cultures, les identités et la géopolitique

par Georges FELTIN-TRACOL

750602755.jpgDans les années 1990, deux géopoliticiens canadiens, Gérard A. Montifroy et Marc Imbeault, publiaient cinq ouvrages majeurs consacrés à la géopolitique et à ses relations avec les démocraties, les idéologies, les économies, les philosophies et les pouvoirs dont certains furent en leur temps recensés par l’auteur de ces lignes. Aujourd’hui, Gérard A. Montifroy et Donald William, auteur du Choc des temps, viennent d’écrire un nouvel essai présentant les rapports complexes entre la géopolitique et les cultures qu’il importe de comprendre aussi dans les acceptions d’identités et de mentalités. Ils observent en effet qu’en géopolitique, « les mentalités constituaient un premier “ pilier ”, se prolongeant naturellement avec les données propres aux identités, celles-ci débouchant sur le contexte dynamique des rivalités (p. 7) ».

Comme dans les précédents ouvrages de la série, le livre présente une abondante bibliographie avec des titres souvent dissidents puisqu’on y trouve Julius Evola, Julien Freund, Éric Zemmour, Danilo Zolo, Éric Werner, Jean-Claude Rolinat, Hervé Coutau-Bégarie, etc. L’intention est limpide : « Il nous fallait sortir de l’actuel esprit du temps qui déforme les raisonnements en débouchant sur la pulvérisation de la réalité des faits. Face à la dictature de la pensée dominante, il existe une défense formidable : les livres aussi “ parlent ” aux livres (p. 08) ». On doit cependant regretter l’absence d’une liste de blogues et de sites rebelles sur la Toile. Car, contrairement à ce que l’on croit, Internet est plus complémentaire que concurrent à la lecture à la condition toutefois de cesser de regarder une télévision toujours plus débilitante. Leur compréhension du monde se fiche des tabous idéologiques en vigueur. « C’est pourquoi la géopolitique, telle que nous la concevons, concourt à faire sortir de l’ombre le dessous des cartes, le monde du réel (p. 9). » Ce travail exige une démarche pluridisciplinaire dont un recours à la philosophie, parce qu’« en géopolitique, l’apport de la réflexion philosophique est essentiel, fondamental même (p. 16) ». Les auteurs ne cachent pas qu’ils s’appuient sur les travaux du général autrichien Jordis van Lohausen, un disciple de Karl Haushofer. Ils mentionnent dans leur ouvrage les écoles géopolitiques anglo-saxonne (britannique et étatsunienne), allemande/germanique et française, mais semblent ignorer le courant géopolitique russe ! Dommage !

La lecture est une nécessité vitale pour qui veut avoir une claire vision des enjeux géopolitiques. Seuls les livres – imprimés ou électroniques – sont capables de répliquer à la désinformation ambiante. « Justifier des guerres d’agression en modifiant le sens des mots relève directement d’une stratégie orwellienne de manipulation mentale : les stratèges de la communication mettent en avant un interventionnisme qualifié d’humanitaire pour justifier l’expression (p. 21). »

Le contrôle des esprits, la modification des mentalités, le dénigrement ou non des identités ont des incidences géopolitiques telles qu’« un État n’est donc pas synonyme d’une mentalité globale (p. 61) ». Cette assertion guère évidente provient de Canadiens. Or le Canada aurait-il pu (peut-il encore ?) se construire un destin ? Les auteurs s’interrogent sur son caractère national, étatique, quelque peu aléatoire du fait de la conflictualité historique entre les Canadiens – Français, les anglophones et les Amérindiens. Et ce, au contraire de la France ! « Pour ses composantes humaines, la France est également née de son propre voisinage : de son “ proche ” contexte. C’est-à-dire que l’identité collective, nationale, est directement issue de populations celtes, latines et germaniques (pp. 69 – 70). » La France a ainsi bénéficié de la longue durée historique pour se forger et se donner une indéniable personnalité politique, temporelle et géographique.

Montifroy et William s’attachent à démontrer les « spécificités géopolitiques canadiennes (p. 87) » et dénoncent leur « vendredi noir ». Ce jour-là, le 20 février 1959, le Premier ministre conservateur-progressiste canadien, John G. Diefenbaker, ordonnait la destruction de l’avion d’interception Avro C.F.-105 Arrow et la fin immédiate du projet au profit des produits étatsuniens. Un vrai sabordage ! Les difficultés de vente actuelles à l’étranger de l’avion français Rafale reproduisent ce lent travail de sape voulu par les États-Unis afin d’être les seuls à armer leurs obligés (et non leurs alliés).

Ce « coup de poignard dans le dos » n’est pas le premier contre le Canada. Deux cents ans plus tôt commençait la Seconde Guerre d’Indépendance américaine (1812 – 1814) entre la Grande-Bretagne et les États-Unis. Dans ce conflit peu connu en Europe, on pourrait en imputer le déclenchement à Londres qui se vengeait du traité de Versailles de 1783. Erreur ! C’est Washington qui déclare la guerre au Royaume-Uni le 18 juin 1812 et essaie d’envahir le Canada. « L’initiative américaine comporte alors un double objectif : couper une source d’approvisionnement stratégique, le bois canadien, remplaçant le commerce des fourrures, matière nécessaire pour les navires anglais, et s’approprier une aire d’expansion aux dépens de possessions britanniques, depuis longtemps convoitées au Nord (p. 95). »

Cette nouvelle guerre aurait pu déchirer la société canadienne divisée entre Canadiens-Français catholiques et anglophones protestants (colons venus d’Europe et « Loyalistes » américains installés après l’indépendance des États-Unis), ce n’est pas le cas ! Une union nationale anti-américaine se réalise. À la bataille de Stoney Creek du 6 juin 1813, 700 combattants canadiens – anglophones et francophones – repoussent environ 3 500 soldats étatsuniens ! Une paix blanche entre les deux belligérants est conclue en 1814. Les États-Unis continueront à vouloir encercler le Canada en acquérant en 1867 l’Alaska, en guignant la Colombie britannique et en lorgnant sur les Provinces maritimes de l’Atlantique. On peut même envisager que Washington attisa les forces centrifuges du futur Canada ?

Les contentieux frontaliers évacués à partir du milieu du XIXe siècle, les classes dirigeantes étatsuniennes et britanniques nouèrent des liens si étroits que « la culture s’impose à la géographie (p. 138) ». Si les auteurs soulignent le grand rôle africain de Cecil Rhodes, ils oublient qu’il fut parmi les premiers à concevoir une entente permanente entre les États-Unis et la Grande-Bretagne. Cette alliance transatlantique allait devenir au XXe siècle une Anglosphère planétaire matérialisée par le réseau d’espionnage électronique mondial Echelon qui est « une organisation ne comprenant que des pays anglo-saxons : Grande-Bretagne, États-Unis, Australie, Nouvelle-Zélande et Canada (majorité anglophone) (p. 180) ».

Depuis la fin de la Guerre froide, les États-Unis et derrière eux, l’Anglosphère-monde, manifestation géographique du financiarisme, s’opposent à l’Europe et à la France en particulier, car « la France est le seul obstacle fondamental à leur domination mondiale sur les Esprits (p. 166) ». Pour l’heure, l’avantage revient au camp anglo-saxon. Gérard A. Montifroy et Donald William déplorent par exemple que la fonction de haut-représentant de l’Union européenne pour les affaires étrangères et la politique de sécurité soit revenue à une tonitruante, gracieuse et charismatique Britannique, la travailliste anoblie Catherine Ashton. « Cette confusion entre l’Europe purement géographique et l’Europe géopolitique constitue l’une des fractures cachées de l’actuelle Union européenne, celle de Bruxelles (p. 149). » À la suite de Carl Schmitt, les auteurs prônent par conséquent qu’« à son tour, l’Europe doit projeter sa propre “ Doctrine Monroe ” (p. 228) ». Un bien bel ouvrage didactique en faveur d’une résistance européenne au Nouvel Ordre mondial fantasmé par les Anglo-Saxons !

Georges Feltin-Tracol

• Gérard A. Montifroy et Donald William, Géopolitique et cultures. Mentalités, identités, rivalités, Béliveau éditeur, Longueil (Québec – Canada), 2012, 251 p., 22 €.


Article printed from Europe Maxima: http://www.europemaxima.com

URL to article: http://www.europemaxima.com/?p=2694

 

samedi, 17 novembre 2012

Subversion et contre-espionnage au coeur de la Légion étrangère

Képi Blanc, casque d’acier et croix gammée

Subversion et contre-espionnage au coeur de la Légion étrangère

Au cours de l’entre-deux-guerres, la Légion étrangère mène un étrange combat contre l’Allemagne. De nombreux Allemands ayant été engagés au sein de ce corps, l’Allemagne y prend pied, non seulement pour tenter de le neutraliser, mais aussi pour étendre son influence dans l’Empire colonial français. Ainsi, la Légion étrangère est l’objet de véritables tentatives de subversion : campagnes de dénigrement, démoralisation, désertion, espionnage, envois d’agents.

Pour se défendre, l’armée française réorganise les procédures d’engagement, développe l’esprit de corps, permet aux légionnaires de retourner à la vie civile dans de bonnes conditions, mais aussi crée un service de contre-espionnage. C’est une lutte sans merci. Dans cet ouvrage foisonnant, Alexis Neviaski relate des histoires d’hommes. Il suit la vie quotidienne des légionnaires et la terrible pression exercée sur et par les familles.

Il dévoile comment des cérémonies, des rituels et finalement les  » traditions  » ont durablement façonné les hommes. Il montre aussi les rôles importants que jouent les polices allemandes et françaises, ainsi que les services de renseignements à l’intérieur de ce phalanstère. S’appuyant sur des fonds d’archives inédits, l’auteur reconstitue l’histoire méconnue qui, d’une guerre à l’autre, oppose en un combat non conventionnel, la Légion étrangère et l’Allemagne.

Editions Fayard

00:05 Publié dans Histoire, Livre, Militaria | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : légion étrangère, france, armée, militaria, livre | |  del.icio.us | | Digg! Digg |  Facebook

vendredi, 16 novembre 2012

Sur Rogere Nimier

nimier.jpg

Roger Nimier

dir. Philippe Barthelet et Pierre-Guillaume de Roux

Roger Nimier

En librairie le 20 Septembre 2012
ISBN 2-36371-0406
Format 15,5 X 24 CM
Pages 256 p.
Prix 27 €

Roger Nimier n’est pas mort

Une mort brutale et spectaculaire, en septembre 1962, allait valoir à Roger Nimier une longue postérité de quiproquo. Cet accident biographique aura permis à la mythologie littéraire d’usurper les droits de la littérature, et de faire oublier, tout simplement, un écrivain de premier ordre. Bernard Frank voyait juste quand, dans son célèbre article des Temps modernes, « Grognards et Hussards », il faisait de Roger Nimier un chef de file : même si les Hussards (Roger Nimier, Jacques Laurent, Antoine Blondin) n’ont jamais formé une école, pas même un groupe amical, et n’ont vraiment été réunis que dans l’intention polémique de leurs adversaires, un ton était donné par eux à leur époque, et ce ton - ironie et désinvolture, mais aussi ferveur et panache, Dumas autant que Stendhal - Roger Nimier l’a résumé presque à lui seul.

Trop généreux pour vivre sans amis - sans ennemis aussi - , il a provoqué ses contemporains, qui l’ont aimé ou détesté avec une égale fascination. Bien au-delà de la résistance instinctive à des mots d’ordre passés de mode (l’idéologie de « l’engagement » par exemple), ce qu’on peut appeler « l’esprit hussard » ne faisait que retrouver cette liberté française à la fois hautaine et familière, railleuse et charitable qui, au moins depuis l’Astrée, a formé le climat de notre littérature et quasi son air natal.

Une œuvre de défi

Cinquante ans après la mort de Roger Nimier, il est temps de réévaluer une œuvre et une influence dégagées des douteux prestiges du fait divers -  à quoi ce volume voudrait s’employer. Sans oublier l’œuvre parallèle de Jacques Laurent (étudiées comme elle l’aura peu été jusqu’ici par Alain Cresciucci ou Quentin Debray), ni l’amitié d’Antoine Blondin (Jacques Trémolet de Villers fait son portrait en ange déchu), les autres fidèles de Nimier sont présents : Stéphen Hecquet (évoqué par Jean-Denis Bredin) ou Roland Cailleux (Isabelle Cailleux-Desnoyers et Christian Dedet). S’agissant de Nimier lui-même, des études éclairent divers aspects de son œuvre, comme ses rapports avec le cinéma (Philippe d’Hugues) ou démontrent l’évidence de son actualité (Bertrand Lacarelle).

Témoignages et correspondances inédits

Des témoignages d’écrivains, ses aînés (Arland, Céline, Cocteau, Green, Jouhandeau, Léautaud, Morand, Jacques Perret, Jules Roy, Alexandre Vialatte) ses contemporains (Pierre Boutang, Kléber Haedens, Jean-René Huguenin, Éric Ollivier, François Seintein, Willy de Spens) ou ses cadets (José Giovanni, Gabriel Matzneff, Dominique de Roux), mais aussi des éditeurs (Roland Laudenbach, Jean-Claude Fasquelle), un compagnon politique de jeunesse (Robert Poujade) ou un cinéaste qui a œuvré avec lui (Alexandre Astruc), sans compter les souvenirs de lycée de ses condisciples Michel Tournier ou Jean-Jacques Amar. Des correspondances inédites (lettres de l’élève du lycée Pasteur à Jean-Jacques Amar ou du critique de la NRF à Pol Vandromme) ainsi que des articles de jeunesse jamais recueillis  complètent cet ensemble dont l’ambition, loin de toute archéologie littéraire et en dehors de tout prétexte anniversaire, est de démontrer par l’exemple ce que doit être la littérature vivante. 

 

Points forts

Actualité : Anniversaire des 50 ans de la mort de Roger Nimier

L’esprit Hussard aujourd’hui : L’incarnation de la liberté française

Valeur : Une œuvre et une influence enfin sorties du « fait divers »

Inédits : Des témoignages inédits et réactualisés ainsi que des articles de jeunesse rares

Dans la presse 

 
Magazine littéraire

27 Septembre 2012

Roger Nimier, haie d'honneur pour le hussard

 

François Mauriac avait vu juste «Je suis tranquille quant à votre destin d'écrivain», assurait-il a Roger Nimier dans une lettre d'octobre 1950 « En voila un qui survole Kafka, le surréalisme de tous les cons de cette génération conière!», appuyait-il dans une lettre à son secrétaire Eric Ollivier. Un demi-siècle après une mort brutale - à 36 ans, le 28 septembre 1962 - dans un accident de voiture sur l'autoroute avec l'énigmatique romancière aux airs de walkyriee fifties Sunsiaré de Larcône (alias Suzv Durupt), le chef de file des Hussards Roger Nimier reste une icône de « la droite buissonnière »        

Mais pas seulement. Au-delà des invectives du fameux article de Bernard Frank gorgé de pensée sartrienne dans Les Temps modernes de décembre 1952, l'œuvre de Roger Nimier est aujourd'hui fêtée par deux gros volumes riches en études, souvenirs et lettres diverses, des rééditions de ses nouvelles, contes, articles et essais, et deux revues qui saluent son talent de polémiste et de romancier—un numéro hommage de la revue Bordel et une nouvelle- née malicieusement intitulée La         Hussarde, nouvelle revue féminine.         

Quelle avalanche ! Pour s'y retrouver, signalons la nouyelle totalement inédite « Le clavier de l'Underwood» publiée dans Bal chez le gouverneur, ainsi que les récentes approches critiques et les documents réunis dans Roger Nimier Antoine BlondIN Jacques Laurent et l'esprit hussard Nimier a des amis de tous côtÉs. II est donc temps de retirer les étiquettes collées sur l'auteur des Epées, du Hussard bleu,et des Enfants tristes, qui fut aussi conseiller littéraire chez Gallimard, où il s'occupait de faire vivre l'œuvre du bouillant Céline Paul Morand, bien à droite sur l'échiquier politico-littéraire de l’après-guerre, notait dans son Journal inutile à propos de son petit-fils en littérature «Les Hussards Drôle de penser que Nimier et Jacques Laurent, qui passent pour légers, n'aimaient que la philosophie »

Tête bien faite, bien ordonnée et adepte d'une « respectueuse insolence », Nimier traquait la confusion des esprits et s'élevait contre la littérature engagée A ses côtes, Jacques Laurent avec sa revue La Parisienne, offrait«l'occasion nouvelle de dégager notre bon sens », selon le philosophe Pierre Boutang II n'y eut pas vraiment d’école de Hussards, mais plutôt une proximité temporelle bien venue entre des écrivains qui faisaient vivre l'esprit, ôtaient les cadenas d'une pensée prisonnière, avec méthode humour et désinvolture et sans le sérieux compassé du surréalisme vieillissant, presque notable. Alentour, citons Blondin bien sûr, et Michel Déon, Jacques Perret, Félicien Marceau, Michel Mohrt. Les documents réunis par Massin directeur artistique chez Gallimard et voisin de bureau de Nimier dévoilent son rôle d'éditeur plein de drôlerie à travers ses crayonnages, ses couvertures parodiques, ses prières d insérer écrits sur un coin de table. Nimier qui n’avait pas l'appétit de se connaître trouve, au milieu de l'hommage kaléidoscopique qui lui est rendu, une fraternité et une fidelité heureuses pour une œuvre protéiforme qui dépasse avec succès l'horizon de sa génération.

OLIVIER CARIGUEL

Roger Nimier, Antoine Blondin, Jacques Laurent et l'esprit Hussard, collectif sous la direction de Philippe Barthelet et de Pierre-Guillaume de Roux (Pierre-Guillaume de Roux, 2012)

 

 
L'Express

26 Septembre 2012

Roger Nimier à tombeau ouvert

Cinquante ans après sa mort dans un accident de voiture, de nombreux témoins prennent la plume pour évoquer la figure du "hussard". femmes, romans, alcool, bolides, polémiques avec Sartre ou Camus : derniers secrets de ce prince de l'insolence.

Les fans de Diana ont le 13e pilier du tunnel de l'Alma. Les inconditionnels de Roger Nimier, prince des lettres, ont, eux, une borne sur l'autoroute de l'Ouest, là où le « hussard » de 36 ans perdit la vie dans un terrible accident de voiture, au soir du 28 septembre 1962. C'était il y a très exactement cinquante ans. « Chaque semaine, je passe sur l'autostrade de l'Ouest. On ne réparera jamais, pour moi, certaines bornes, après certain taillis, en arrivant sur le pont de Garches », écrira, mélancolique, son ami Morand. Un demi-siècle après la disparition brutale de notre James Dean de la NRF - cet exact contemporain de Jean d'Ormesson aurait eu 87 ans cette année -, plusieurs ouvrages rassemblant témoignages et textes rares permettent de démêler les légendes qui ont entouré ses mille vies, son oeuvre et sa mort. Flash-back sur ce « jeune premier des lettres à la beauté d'archange buté », comme le croquait François Dufay (i).

Roger Nimier philatéliste. 

On l'ignore souvent, mais avant de devenir écrivain l'auteur du Hussard bleu (sans doute son roman le plus « grand public ») a vécu du commerce de timbres. Ayant perdu très jeune son père, ingénieur inventeur de l'horloge parlante, Nimier, qui a grandi dans le XVIIe arrondissement de Paris, entre, à 17 ans, en 1942, dans la maison Miro, près de l'hôtel Drouot Jusqu'à l'aube des années 1950, il y rédigera des notices détaillées. Intéressé au chiffre d'affaires, il dépense tous ses émoluments en livres. « Quand un client en achète pour moins de 10 ooo francs, je lui jette un sale regard. A partir de 100 ooo, je lui dis au revoir. Au-dessus du million, il a droit au sourire », racontera-t-il, avec son insolence coutumière.

Les « poumons de M. Camus ».

Mais c'est évidemment dans ses articles de presse que cette insolence va trouver à s'employer à merveille. Fort du succès d'estime des Epées, cette histoire trouble d'un adolescent passant de la Résistance à la Milice, parue en 1948, Nimier, qui excelle dans la forme courte, est accueilli à bras ouverts par de nombreux journaux. Aux plus beaux jours du Flore, ses formules assassines ne ménagent pas les gloires de Saint-Germain-des- Prés. « Les disciples de Sartre ? Des danseurs », raille-t-il. Les Mandarins, de Simone de Beauvoir ? « Bouvard et Pécuchet existentialistes. » Sans oublier ce titre - un classique, désormais - à la Une de l'hebdomadaire Opéra : « Surprise à Marigny : Jean-Louis Barrault encore plus mauvais que d'habitude ». Scandale. Mais ce n'est rien à côté de celui que va déclencher la terrible charge parue, en février 1949, dans la revue gaulliste Liberté de l'esprit. Evoquant les tensions de la guerre froide, Nimier écrit cette phrase, qu'ils traîne encore comme un boulet : « Et comme nous ne ferons pas la guerre avec les épaules de M. Sartre, ni avec les poumons de M. Camus... » Tollé. Camus était tuberculeux. Les Cahiers de l'Herne exhument aujourd'hui un texte dans lequel Nimier laisse entendre qu'il l'ignorait : « Des circonstances qui nous étaient inconnues ont rendu particulièrement blessant et emphatique un mot qui n'avait pas ces intentions précises. Ceci devrait être dit », s'excuse à mi- mots un Nimier pourtant peu enclin à l'autocritique. Ironie de la vie littéraire, Camus et Nimier auront plus tard tous deux un bureau chez Gallimard et prendront bien soin de s'éviter dans les couloirs de l'auguste maison...

Nimier fasciste ? En 1952, Bernard Frank publie dans Les Temps modernes, la revue de Sartre, Grognards et Hussards, véritable acte de baptême des « Hussards », étiquette sous laquelle il englobe Nimier, Antoine Blondin et Jacques Laurent. Retentissant article, repris intégralement par les Cahiers de l'Herne. Ce qui rapproche ces jeunes écrivains, selon lui ? « Un style au carré, un style qui se voit style» et qui, sur chaque phrase, plante un petit drapeau sur lequel on lit : « J'ai du style. » Mais ce n'est pas tout : ces stylistes seraient avant tout des « fascistes » ! Le mot est lancé. Est-il juste pour Nimier ? Ou Bernard Frank n'était-il qu'un « sartrien de bar » missionné pour discréditer les ennemis de son chef, comme l'écrit Philippe Barthelet, maître d'œuvre de Roger Nimier, Antoine Blondin, Jacques Laurent et l'esprit Hussard, qui paraît ces jours-ci ? Vu de 2012, il faut bien le dire, les positions politiques de Nimier nous paraissent quelque peu confuses : c'est une sorte de gaulliste tendance Maurras, un dandy célinien (c'est lui qui orchestrera, via une retentissante interview dans L'Express, le grand retour du maudit de Meudon, en 1957). Il admire la grandeur du Général - il se mêlera même à la foule qui l'acclame sur les Champs-Elysées en 1958 -, mais, avec son ami royaliste Pierre Boutang, va rendre visite, le 30 mars 1952, au vieux Charles Maurras dans sa résidence forcée, à Tours. « Roger ne sera jamais du côté des vainqueurs, mais toujours des perdants. Il porte en lui le goût de l'échec et l'échec est sa noblesse », avance en guise d'explication Christian Millau, dont Nimier fut le témoin de mariage (2).

Nimier«poseur».Les deux plus célèbres photographies représentant l'auteur des Epées sont des demi-mensonges. La première le montre, regard d'enfant triste et calot sur la tête, en grand uniforme du 2e hussards de Tarbes - elle sera placardée en guise de publicité pour Les Epées sur les camionnettes Gallimard sillonnant Paris. Engagé volontaire à 19 ans, ce qui dénote un certain courage, il intègre ce

Régiment en février 1945.Il rêve de combats sur le Rhin et en Indochine. Il ne dépassera pourtant pas Vic-en-Bigorre, avant d'être rapidement démobilisé. Ses faits d'armes ? A voir lu Pascal en Pléiade à 600 kilomètres du front. Une blessure indélébile qui fera de lui un homme en « permission perpétuelle », selon son biographe Marc Dambre. L'autre cliché « mensonger » relève d'un folklore plus léger : on y voit un Nimier négligemment appuyé sur l'aile d'une superbe Rolls-Royce (voir page précédente'). Il n'en a pourtant jamais possédé ! Robert Massin, alors directeur artistique de Gallimard, révèle aujourd'hui les dessous de cette photo : un beau jour, cette berline était garée devant la maison d'édition, et Nimier a tout simplement posé « en propriétaire » à ses côtés devant son objectif (Massin publie ces jours-ci un petit livre de souvenirs sur « Roger »). Alors, « poseur », Nimier ? C'est ce que lui reprochait affectueusement Mauriac : « Vous ne devez être vraiment "bien" que dans l'amour, c'est-à-dire dompté, maîtrise, vaincu, par une créature devant laquelle vous avez forcément perdu la pose. » Une « pose » - costume croisé, champagne, Jaguar - indissociable du mythe hussard

Ascenseur pour l'échafaud. Si l'on voulait parodier Pierre Desproges se moquant de Duras, on pourrait dire que Roger Nimier n'a pas seulement écrit que des chefs- d'œuvre, il en a aussi filmé. Et parmi ses collaborations plus ou moins heureuses avec le grand écran - il a même mis la main à la pâte du Ali Baba et les quarante voleurs avec Fernandel ! -, un film est resté fiché sur toutes les rétines : Ascenseur pour l'échafaud, de Louis Malle (1958). Il coécrit le scénario avec le réalisateur et rédige les dialogues. Chardonne, l'un de ces écrivains compromis que Nimier contribua à remettre en selle, y voyait le meilleur de son œuvre. La mélancolie de Maurice Ronet, la Mercedes 300 SL en trombe sur l'autoroute, la tristesse de Jeanne Moreau-Ascenseur pour l'échafaud, c'est du pur Nimier. Au passage, l'écrivain aura une liaison avec la comédienne. Un soir tard, où Gaston Gallimard entre dans le bureau de Nimier, il tombe par hasard sur le « couple » : « Oh ! pardon, monsieur Nimier, j'ai vu de la lumière dans votre bureau et j'ai pensé que vous aviez oublié de l'éteindre », s'excuse Gaston, avant de s'éclipser. « Le concierge ? » demande Moreau.«Le patron», répond Nimier.

L'accident. Gaston et Roger, tous deux amoureux de belles voitures, s'étaient connus un beau jour de 1948 où, venu lui proposer le manuscrit des Epées, le jeune romancier avait déclaré : « Je viens, monsieur, pour changer de l'encre en essence. » Et quand, avec ses émoluments de chez Gallimard, Nimier pourra s'offrir une Aston Martin rouge, il la surnommera facétieusement la « Gaston Martin ». On le verra aussi au volant d'une élégante Jaguar décapotable ou d'une Delahaye. Son goût de la vitesse le perdra. Le 28 septembre 1962, alors que, après un silence romanesque de dix ans, Nimier vient de remettre le manuscrit de son D'Artagnan amoureux, il voit Antoine Blondin et Louis Malle au bar du Pont-Royal pour évoquer une adaptation de Feu follet. Il retrouve ensuite Sunsiaré de Larcône, une ravissante romancière à la longue chevelure blonde. Ils passent à la rédaction d'Elle, boivent quelques verres à un cocktail et prennent finalement l'autoroute de l'Ouest dans la fameuse Aston Martin. Quelques minutes plus tard, c'est l'accident, violent, à pleine vitesse. Les deux occupants sont tués. Que sait-on de nouveau sur ce drame cinquante ans après ? Christian Millau rappelle que son ami Roger « avait 2,8 grammes d'alcool dans le sang, ce qui faisait une mort passablement ordinaire ». Une rumeur assure pourtant que c'était en fait Sunsiaré de Larcône qui était au volant. Massin le confirme : « On le tint secret longtemps à cause de l'assurance. » Certains ajoutent même que la jeune femme avait coutume de conduire pieds nus. Comme si, jusqu'en la mort, la légende devait toujours magnifier la réalité. Trois ans auparavant, avec son sens très sûr des catastrophes, Louis-Ferdinand Céline avait pourtant prévenu son ami Roger au détour d'une lettre : « Ne vous faites pas blesser, accidenter !... L'accident est un sport de riches »...

JEROME DUPUIS

Roger Nimier, Antoine Blondin, Jacques Laurent et l'esprit Hussard, collectif sous la direction de Philippe Barthelet et Pierre-Guillaume de Roux (Pierre-Guillaume de Roux, 2012)

 

 

 
Figaro Magazine

24 Septembre 2012

Roger Nimier le hussard de nos vingt ans

Il y a cinquante ans, l'auteur Il y a cinquante ans, l'auteur des « Enfants tristes » disparaissait au volant de son Aston Martin. Depuis, sa légende a suscité de nombreux malentendus. Retour sur un parcours mené à 200 km/h.

Vivant, Roger Nimier aurait juste 87 ans. Il  serait plus jeune que Sté- phane Hessel et afficherait le même âge que Jean d'Ormesson. Il semble pourtant d'un autre temps, d'un autre monde. Sa mort sur la route de ses 37 ans l'a momifié. Il n'aimait pas les photos. Nous n'aimons pas le voir, le front ceint d'un linceul, couché comme un gisant, à l'hôpital de Garches, tout comme cette jeune femme, dans le même état, également finie, immaculée. C’était la nuit du 28 septembre 1962 sur l'autoroute de l'Ouest, l'Aston Martin de Nimier emmenait aussi une superbe fille de 27 ans, blonde comme la Beauce en été. Sous le pseudonyme de Sunsiaré de Larcône, elle venait de lancer son premier roman, La Messagère. Le bolide a percuté sept bornes en béton avant de s'aplatir contre le parapet d'un pont près de Paris. La fille conduisait-elle ? En octobre, après neuf ans de silence livresque, sortirait un roman posthume de Roger, ce D'Artagnan amoureux qui s'exclamait : «Il n'y a que les routes pour calmer la vie. » Le mythe naissait dans ce qui avait baigné sa vie et son œuvre : l'énergie, l'ironie, l'inquiétude.

Dès le départ, il a foncé. En1948, après le refus par Gallimard de poèmes, d'un récit et d'un roman (L'Etrangère), il publie Les Epées. En 1950, deux romans, Perfide et Le Hussard bleu, et un essai, Le Grand d'Espagne. En 1951, Les Enfants tristes. Il écrit en Jaguar, il faut le freiner. L'essai Amour & Néant attendra 1953 pour sortir. Qu'est-ce qui faisait tant remuer ce fils de la bourgeoisie bretonne et picarde élevé dans les beaux quartiers parisiens et nourri de lectures énormes ? Un double drame, peut-être. La mort d'un père en 1939 précède de peu la débâcle du pays. Fin 1944, il veut s'engager dans l'aviation, or le ciel est bouché, plus de place. En mal d'Histoire, il rejoint le 2e hussards à Tarbes en mars 1945, mais c'est trop tard pour la légende et le casse-pipe. Voulant se battre, il n'aura fait que lire. Il va attaquer la paix en écrivant «Nous sommes les vivants», prévient-il dans Le Grand d'Espagne. « Les lumières de Juin 1940 et de l'été l944 se confondent à présent,         le désespoir et la chance font une égale balance : nous rejetons cet équilibre honteux. Vichy, le gaullisme, la collaboration sont rendus à l'Histoire. » Il espère une « nouvelle civilisation», un «renversement des valeurs» Deuil et renaissance. « Un pas encore et nous serons les maîtres. «C’est la déclaration de guerre des vingt ans en 1945. Cette génération, il faudra la réduire. En 1952, Bernard Frank, écrivain et critique en herbe, s'y emploie dans la revue Les Temps modernes, avec un sens de la mesure toute sartrienne : «Nimier est de loin le favori d'un groupe de jeunes écrivains que, par commodité, je nommerais fascistes » et dont les «prototypes » sont Antoine Blondin et Jacques Laurent. Frank persévère et ce n'est pas triste : « Comme tous les fascistes, les hussards détestent la discussion. Ils se délectent de la phrase courte, dont ils se croient les inventeurs. Ils la manient comme s'il s'agissait d'un couperet. A chaque phrase. Il y a mort d'homme. Ce n'est pas grave. C'est une mort pour rire.«Fasciste... Pauvre France, pauvre Frank. Il confond l'auteur et son personnage, Nimier et le François Sanders des Epées et du Hussard bleu qui disait : « Quand les habitants de la planète seront un peu plus difficiles, je me ferai naturaliser humain. En attendant je préfère rester fasciste, bien que ce soit baroque et fatigant. » Nimier était trop difficile pour être fasciste. Et trop profond pour la hussardise. Il traîne encore ce pénible label à l'épicerie de la critique littéraire. De plus en plus délavée, collée à droite, l'étiquette hussard a d'abord désigné une postérité émue et fraternelle avant de solder un quarteron de gribouilles éthyliques.

Dans l'ouvrage qu'ils dirigent, Roger Nimier, Antoine Blondin, Jacques Laurent et l'esprit hussard, Philippe Barthelet et Pierre-Guillaume de Roux veulent exfiltrer Nimier du «folklore imbécile» des hussards. Le premier procède bizarrement en minorant ses romans, des « œuvres de jeunesse », au profit de ses articles. Les romans n'ont pas d'âge. Et la jeunesse a sa sagesse, son passé. Le Hussard bleu est dédié au copain d'enfance Stièvenard, mort en Allemagne en 1945, Les Enfants tristes, à l'ami juif Mosseri, fusillé par les « Schleus ». Les romans de Nimier sont les tombeaux d'un surdoué, d'un Rimbaud qui aurait assimilé Retz et Peter Cheyney. Dans le beau Cahier de l'Herne consacré à Nimier et dirigé par Marc Dambre, Philippe Berthier remet les pendules à l'heure en plaçant le jeune romancier dans le sillage de Stendhal, Balzac et Dumas.

Avant-gardiste et mondialiste à ses heures, il lit Joyce et Faulkner Frank n'était pas léger en tout. Il a bien vu la dimension « pour rire » de Nimier. Rire pour dissoudre la lourdeur des temps, rire d'être « écorché».Mais ce n'était qu'une facette d'un écrivain trop profond pour ignorer les accointances de l'humour avec la mort. Après Histoire d'un amour, en1953, il lève le pied, stoppe les romans. C'est la tentation d'un certain silence, finement filée par la biographie de Dambre (Roger Nimier. Hussard du demi-siècle, Flammarion, 1989), qui mériterait d'être rééditée en poche. Nimier prend congé de la psychologie et du moi romanesques. Il s'expose pour se cacher, envoie son double dans les alcôves de Paris, prend le virage des journaux. Après la rédaction en chef de l'hebdomadaire Opéra, il critique à Carrefour, orchestre le Nouveau Femina, chronique dans Arts et au Bulletin de Paris. Des articles qui sont souvent de courts essais étincelants d'esprit et de pénétration. Réac franchouillard, Nimier ? Plutôt d'avant-garde et mondialiste à ses heures, fervent lecteur de Faulkner, Joyce, Ponge, Kafka, Borges...

Des auteurs qu'on retrouvera plus tard à la une de Tel Quel, la bible maoïste de Philippe Sollers. Cela ne l'empêche pas de lancer le livre de Poche Classique. Entré comme conseiller littéraire chez Gallimard fin 1956, il monte au créneau pour «Un château l'autre, de Céline, et remue ciel et terre pour lui, qui a eu comme Saint-Simon « l'invention géniale de ne pas inventer et l'imagination terrible de regarder». Le romancier Céline incarne une forme spéciale de nouveauté, jaillie de l'œuf du classicisme. A sa manière, il fait des enfants dans le dos de la tradition. De quoi plaire à Nimier, qui s'ennuie presque partout «Dans la vie, je ne vois rien du tout, sinon la sottise de mon existence, passant d'un bureau à une nursery, accablé de travail, de cris d'enfants, tout cela sans espoir ni distractions, sinon notre déjeuner l'autre jour », écrit-il à Jacques Chardonne, en juillet 1958. Marié depuis 1954, il a un fils, Martin, et une fille, Marie, qui sera écrivain. Marie Nimier est l'auteur d'un récit sur ce père mort quand elle avait 5 ans. La Reine du silence fourmille de scènes rapportées ou qu'elle a un peu vécues.

Un jour, Nimier a pointé un pistolet sur la tempe du petit Martin clans son berceau. Pour rire, évidemment. Beaucoup plus tard, devenue mère, Marie a retrouvé un mot paternel datant de l'été 1957 : «Au fait, Nadine a eu une fille hier. Jai été immédiatement la noyer dans la Seine pour ne plus en entendre parler. »Pour rire, encore. Nimier n'était pas facile à vivre en famille ou en société. Il buvait sec. Ses blagues rempliraient un volume de l'Almanach Vermot, elles avaient souvent un goût saumâtre, macabre. Il ne s'amusait bien qu'entre hommes aventureux. Pointer au hasard son doigt sur la ville d'une carte de France, et s'y rendre illico en bagnole, sinon ce n'est pas du jeu. Ou aller chercher en livrée de chauffeur et voiture de maître l'ami Blondin retenu en cellule de dégrisement au commissariat. Une scène de comédie pour celui que le cinéma a beaucoup diverti. Dans le rôle du scénariste, Nimier a travaillé pour Antonioni (I         Vinti),         Malle         (Ascenseur pour         l'échafaud), Siodmak (L'Affaire Nina B.), Becker, Astruc. «Devant un film, on est seul. La nuit étouffe les visages. (...) Il y a une âme collective au théâtre, c'est celle qui permet le Mystère. Elle est inutile au cinéma, puisqu'il présente le déroulement du rêve. » Qui atteint cette altitude à 24 ans ? A 31 ans, il affrontait des trous d'air : « Laissez-moi vivreen dehors de ce milieu, élevé dans le cuite de Gallimard, des Lazareff, des Jaguar, de Martine Carol et du marxisme - toutes choses que je connais mieux qu'eux», confiait-il à Chardonne. Nimier n'est jamais sorti de ce milieu. Il filait rendez-vous à Jeanne Moreau dans son bureau chez Gallimard.

Nimier, il faut le lire à 20 ans, comme Olivier Frébourg dans son Roger Nimier. Trafiquant d'insolence (« La Petite Vermillon », La Table Ronde, 2007), et le relire vingt ou trente ans plus tard, pour le réévaluer face aux malentendus, aux diffamations posthumes, aux feux falots, aux cossards bleus. « Trop d'alcool, trop de sang, trop de XXe siècle dans le sang, trop de mépris », avouait Sanders dans Le Hussard bleu. Mais Nimier, c'était autre chose, quelqu'un d'autre. Trop de littérature dans le sang, trop d'amour du Grand Siècle, trop d'espoir dans un siècle si petit. Il faut lui rendre sa liberté.

JEAN-MARC PARISIS

Roger Nimier, Antoine Blondin et Jacques Laurent et l'esprit Hussard, collectif sous la direction de Philippe Barthelet et Pierre-Guillaume de Roux (Pierre-Guillaume de Roux, 2012)

 

jeudi, 08 novembre 2012

La Russie, puissance d’Eurasie

Vient de paraître : La Russie, puissance d’Eurasie – Histoire géopolitique des origines à Poutine, d’Arnaud Leclercq

Publié par
 
 
 
Vient de paraître : La Russie, puissance d'Eurasie - Histoire géopolitique des origines à Poutine, d'Arnaud Leclercq 

4ème de couverture : Après l’effondrement du soviétisme, le plus vaste pays du monde est passé de la superpuissance à l’humiliation, avant de redevenir un acteur majeur du monde multipolaire. Forte de son identité retrouvée et gorgée de richesses naturelles, la Russie dispose d’atouts considérables, comme les nouvelles routes de la soie ou celles de l’Arctique, qui feront d’elle la superpuissance eurasiatique tournée vers une nouvelle économie-monde centrée en Asie. Loin des clichés médiatiques, plongeant dans les profondeurs de l’histoire et de la géopolitique, Arnaud Leclercq nous offre une réflexion atypique et inscrite dans la longue durée, nourrie d’une connaissance intime des Russes. Il met en lumière les constantes religieuses, identitaires, politiques de la Russie et trace les perspectives d’une puissance qui, n’en déplaise à l’Occident, sera de plus en plus incontournable.

Auteur : Arnaud Leclercq (www.arnaudleclercq.com)
Éditeur : Ellipses
Date de parution : 01/11/2012
ISBN : 2729876456 – EAN : 978-2729876456
Prix : 24,40 euros

Acheter en ligne sur Fnac.com ou sur Amazon.fr

mardi, 30 octobre 2012

"Esquisses d'une Europe nouvelle" de Geneviève Duchenne

"Esquisses d'une Europe nouvelle" de Geneviève Duchenne

"Esquisses d'une Europe nouvelle. L'européisme dans la Belgique de l'entre-deux-guerres (1919-1939)" vient de paraître dans la collection Euroclio, aux éditions P.I.E. - Peter Lang.
Alors que ce n'est qu'à partir des années 1950 que le projet européen se traduit dans les institutions et dans les politiques, l'idée européenne, suscite déjà, et ce, dès l'entre-deux-guerres, de multiples initiatives.
Cet ouvrage issu d'une thèse de doctorat, souhaite apporter une contribution originale à la connaissance des courants européistes qui fleurirent dans la Belgique des années 1920 et 1930.
Fondé sur l'exploitation de sources multiples et inédites, il révèle la richesse insoupçonnée des projets et des mouvements engendrés dans le contexte de l'Europe de Versailles. Invitant à découvrir l'Europe telle que la conçurent la génération de la guerre et celle de la crise à travers leurs cadres mentaux, chronologiques et géographiques, cette étude met en lumière le rôle des cercles, des milieux ainsi que des moments-clés.
Elle place enfin l'accent sur les lieux qui de Genève à Vienne et Paris, puis de Bruxelles à Berlin, incarnent l'européisme de l'époque.

Présentation de l'éditeur (fichier .pdf)

En savoir plus sur l'auteur

Ce qu'on en dit...

«Le livre de Geneviève Duchenne, inspiré de sa thèse de doctorat, propose ainsi un « retour aux sources » de l’engagement européen belge et fait le point sur les projets européistes qui ont traversé la Belgique de l’entre-deux-guerres. C’est en fin de compte un travail pionnier que nous livre l’auteur». Matthieu Boisdron sur Histobiblio.com (Lire l'intégralité du compte-rendu)

Dans L'Écho:

«Dans la thèse de doctorat qu’elle vient de publier, l’historienne belge Geneviève Duchenne fait le point sur les courants européistes qui ont fleuri dans la Belgique des années 1920 et 1930. Elle révèle la richesse insoupçonnée des projets et des mouvements engendrés dans le contexte de l’Europe de Versailles. [...] L’intérêt de cet ouvrage est de voir comment une conception idéalisée de l’Europe (au milieu des nationalismes féroces de l’époque) a progressivement laissé la place à une approche plus pragmatique qui débouchera finalement sur les trois traités fondateurs d’après-guerre». (Bombaerts, J.-P., "L'idée européenne en Belgique avant le Traité de Rome", L'Écho, 11 mars 2008, p. 16)

Dans La Libre Belgique:

«Depuis sa création en 1831, la Belgique, "terre d'entre-deux", a entretenu une relation forte à l'Europe dont dépendait son existence. La guerre de 1914-18 lui conféra une intensité nouvelle dans le double souci de contrer le déclin du Vieux Continent, auguré par Oswald Spengler, et d'assurer sa paix par sa réunification. L'entre-deux guerres a dès lors vu fermenter plans, projets, débats, cercles d'étude, associations, publications. Cette période fut véritablement la matrice de la construction européenne après 1945.
Cette ébullition "européiste" en Belgique, avec ses espoirs et ses déboires, vient de faire l'objet d'un ouvrage magistral de Geneviève Duchenne, docteur en histoire de l'Université de Louvain, diplomée en "Taal en Kultuur" de la K.U.L., professeur invitée aux Facultés Saint-Louis de Bruxelles.» (Franck, J., "L'idée européenne 1919-39", La Libre Belgique, 21 mars 2008, article accessible via le site de La Libre)

Lire aussi Martin, P., "À bout portant : « La Belgique de l’entre-deux-guerres avait déjà un sens pratique de la future Europe »", Le Soir, 4 avril 2008

Cette publication a été le sujet des émissions Mémo (Jacques Olivier, La Première - RTBF-radio) des 19 et 26 avril 2008.

00:05 Publié dans Belgicana, Livre | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : années 30, européisme, belgique, belgicana, livre | |  del.icio.us | | Digg! Digg |  Facebook

samedi, 27 octobre 2012

Céline ? C'est Ça !... de Serge KANONY

 SERGE_~1.JPG

Vient de paraître :

Céline ? C'est Ça !... de Serge KANONY

Et si on lisait Céline autrement ? Et si Céline renouait avec les grands mythes fondateurs de notre culture ? Et si la clé de cette œuvre, géniale et scandaleuse, se laissait entrevoir dans le monosyllabe par lequel s'ouvre son premier roman Voyage au bout de la nuit : « Ça a débuté comme ça. » ?

Le « Ça » célinien, c'est d'abord le Chaos originel, la Nuit primordiale des antiques cosmogonies, d'où surgissent tant l'œuvre que l'auteur ; c'est aussi deux guerres mondiales pleines de bruit et de fureur, où se déchaîne la folie meurtrière des hommes ; c'est encore une langue de rupture, chaotique, charriant le meilleur, mais aussi le pire : celui des éructations antisémites ; c'est enfin le « Ça » intérieur, la part maudite dont chacun est porteur.

Serge Kanony ouvre une porte que d'autres n'avaient fait qu'entrouvrir, derrière laquelle on entendait de drôles de cris. Serge Kanony ouvre la boîte de Pandore d'où s'échappent des ombres redoutables.

 
Agrégé de lettres classiques, Serge Kanony est aussi l'auteur d'un essai : D'un Céline et d'autres (L'harmattan, 2010).

Serge KANONY, Céline ? C'est Ça !..., Le Petit Célinien Éditions, 2012.
 Préface d'Éric Mazet.

216 pages, format 14x21. Tirage limité sur papier bouffant. ISBN 978-2-7466-5216-3.
Illustration de couverture : Loïc Zimmermann.
 
 
 
Commandez votre exemplaire(19 €) :
 

Les Entretiens du Petit Célinien (IX) : Serge KANONY

 
Agrégé de lettres classiques, Serge Kanony a enseigné le français, le latin et le grec à des élèves de Première et de Terminale. Il est l’auteur d'un second essai : Céline ? C’est ça !... (Le Petit Célinien Editions, 2012)
 
Dans quelles circonstances êtes-vous arrivé à Céline ? 

A mon arrivée à Toulouse, inscrit à la fac des lettres, un copain a joué le rôle du passeur : il m’a parlé de Céline dont j’ignorais jusqu’au nom, et m’a dirigé vers une petite librairie à deux pas de la basilique Saint-Sernin : La Bible d’or. Le libraire, un petit homme tout en rondeurs, au visage lisse et avenant, officiait dans un minuscule espace devant un auditoire restreint qui se renouvelait au gré des heures : des étudiants, un journaliste et critique de cinéma, auteur avec le directeur de la cinémathèque d’un Panorama du film noir. Tant et si bien que ma découverte de Céline est allée de pair avec celle des Walsh, Lang, Mankiewicz
Découvrir Céline dont on ne m’avait dit mot au lycée c’était me revancher des Sartre, Camus et autres auteurs dont je m’étais nourri. De l’après-guerre aux années soixante, l’existentialisme avec son icône Jean-Paul Sartre était dans l’air du temps. Pour se faire une idée de cette Sartrolatrie, il suffit de lire ce que nous en dit Gabriel Matznef dans Le taureau de Phalaris : « En classe de philo, j’avais un condisciple qui nourrissait une fervente admiration pour Jean-Paul Sartre… il suivait Sartre dans la rue… il collectionnait ses mégots. »
Dans cette librairie, donc, que des auteurs non conformistes et en réaction contre l’idéologie dominante : les Hussards avec Blondin, Nimier, le copain de Céline, etc. C’est là que j’ai acheté la plupart des romans de Céline, les Cahiers de l’Herne, etc.
Pour moi, comme pour beaucoup, la porte d’entrée qui a ouvert sur Céline ce fut Voyage au bout de la nuit. D’un seul coup, brutalement, sans même respecter les paliers de décompression, je me hissais de la nausée sartrienne à la nausée célinienne. De Roquentin à Bardamu. Le premier dégueule dans l’abstrait, ontologiquement, dans le Jardin public de Bouville ; le second, physiquement, dans la boue des Flandres.
Après la licence, pour présenter l’agrégation, il fallait avoir rédigé un Diplôme d’Etudes Supérieures ; sans hésiter, je choisis de composer un mémoire sur Céline, disposant ainsi d’une année pour pousser plus avant ma découverte de l’univers célinien. C’était en 1965 et les travaux critiques consacrés à cet auteur étaient peu nombreux : trois Belges : Marc Hanrez, Pol Vandromme et Robert Poulet, une Française : Nicole Debrie.
L’importance de ce mémoire n’était pas dans son contenu, mais dans le fait qu’il constituait une sorte de certificat de baptême, un devoir de fidélité.
 
Qu'aimez-vous dans l'oeuvre célinienne ?
 
Il est bien plus facile de donner les raisons pour lesquelles on n’aime pas un auteur, un livre ou une personne que de dire celles pour lesquelles on les aime. Le coeur a ses raisons… Pourquoi Montaigne aimait-il La Boétie ? Parce que c’était lui ! Pourquoi j’aime Céline ? Parce que c’est Céline, parce qu’il touche en moi à des zones que les autres auteurs n’atteignent pas, n’atteindront jamais ; au plus profond de ma viande. Céline ? Il est intradermique, les autres, épidermiques ! Je crois qu’il y a là une part de mystère, ne pas trop gratter !
Voyage au bout de la nuit, je l’ai téléchargé, mis dans le disque dur de ma mémoire, sécurisé… Mon de poche, celui de mes vingt ans, tout écorné, surligné, avec plein de notes, je l’ai toujours à portée. Si je veux vérifier une phrase, d’instinct, j’y vais tout de suite. Sur l’échelle Richter de mes préférences, il fait force 9 ! Mort à crédit ? Force 8. La trilogie allemande ? Force 7.
Qu’est-ce que j’aime dans l’oeuvre célinienne ? Sa démesure, son hybris, son Verbe, sa puissance d’évocation, sa poésie, son délire, son côté dionysiaque…
Céline ? Grandes orgues et petite musique de nuit.
Bien sûr, Mort à crédit est presque tout aussi présent en moi que le Voyage. Selon moi, ils sont complémentaires. Dans le Voyage est énoncée la vision célinienne du monde à travers la poésie de la Nuit, émaillée d’aphorismes ; on « s’instruit ». Qui a lu le Voyage on ne la lui fera pas sur l’homme ; on y fait son éducation, on est Candide qui voyage de l’Europe à l’Amérique en passant par l’Afrique et qui revient « plein d’usage et raison », etc.
Mais dans le Voyage la bonde n’est pas lâchée, les flots sont encore contenus dans les digues du langage. Dans Mort à crédit, les digues pètent, celles de la phrase, le torrent verbal emporte tout… La moindre altercation entre Ferdinand et son père se change en une gigantomachie.
Ce que j’aime dans le Voyage ? Cette hésitation entre les résidus du style écrit et la langue parlée, l’argotique, leur télescopage ; sa dimension mythique (la Nuit, la Mort…), sa poésie surtout, même celle des phrases filées que l’auteur à reniées. Il n’est pas interdit d’aimer Céline contre lui-même !
Deux exemples :
D’abord la poésie à l’ancienne : « Les vivants qu’on égare dans les cryptes du temps/dorment si bien avec les morts/qu’une même ombre les confond déjà. » Un alexandrin, un octosyllabe, un décasyllabe.
A la moderne : « Il avait comme un tisonnier en bas de l’oesophage qui lui calcinait les tripes… Bientôt, il serait plus que des trous… Les étoiles passeraient à travers avec les renvois. » Poésie cosmique.
Ou encore : « … comme si son âme lui serait sortie du derrière, des yeux, du ventre, de la poitrine, qu’elle m’en aurait foutu partout, qu’elle en illuminait la gare… » Poésie mystique.
La trilogie allemande, aussi, à ne pas oublier (D’un château l’autre, Nord, Rigodon) avec un Berlin éventré, ses champs de ruines, ses hôtels dont les couloirs vous basculent dans le vide, les bombardements, etc. Seul, peut-être, un film de Douglas Sirk (je pense au soldat Graeber cherchant sa maison natale parmi les entassements de gravats dans A time to love and a time to die) se hisse à la hauteur des évocations céliniennes. Ce que j’aime enfin : le dernier Céline, celui des interviewes (1957-1961), le Céline moraliste qui décrypte notre époque, commente l’actualité d’une manière souvent prophétique.
 
 
Votre premier livre, D'un Céline et d'autres (L'Harmattan, 2010), démontrait combien la littérature française des cinq derniers siècles est restée d'une étonnante modernité.
 
Un « classique » est toujours « moderne », mais il n’est pas certain que le moderne d’aujourd’hui sera le classique de demain !
Le titre m’a posé des problèmes. J’ai renoncé à l’ordre chronologique car, partir de Montaigne en passant par Pascal, Racine, aurait découragé bien des lecteurs. Pourtant Montaigne avec son essai Des coches est d’une brûlante actualité : les Espagnols avec Pizarro débarquant chez les Amérindiens, ce sont les Ricains débarquant en Irak : mêmes pillages, mêmes tortures.
On entend souvent dire à propos d’une oeuvre, d’un artiste : il est dépassé. C’est confondre le domaine esthétique avec le Grand Prix de Monaco ou les Vingt-Quatre Heures du Mans ! Un romancier, un poète ne sont jamais dépassés, ils sont parfois oubliés ; s’ils sont oubliés, c’est parce que ne se trouve pas dans leurs écrits quelque chose qui les rattache à nous, à l’universel.
Quoi de plus moderne que Les Fleurs du mal ? Baudelaire y invente la poésie urbaine, celle des cheminées qui crachent leurs fumées, des fêtards sortant de boîte au petit matin, et la chanson de Jacques Dutronc Paris s’éveille n’est rien d’autre que la mise en musique du poème Le crépuscule du matin.
C’est tout cela que j’essaye de montrer dans ce premier essai littéraire : la modernité des écrivains passés. 
 
Votre nouvel ouvrage, Céline ? C'est Ça !... (Le Petit Célinien Éditions, 2012), est un essai littéraire dont le sous-titre est : Petites variations sur un gros mot. Faut-il entrevoir la clef de l'oeuvre célinienne dans le monosyllabe par lequel s'ouvre Voyage au bout de la nuit : « Ça a débuté comme ça. » ?
 
Cet incipit m’a toujours fasciné. Sa banalité voulue me semblait cacher quelque chose. Confirmation m’en a été donnée par la lecture d’un court article de Raymond Jean intitulé : Ouvertures, phrases seuils, paru en 1971, où à propos du premier Ça, il évoquait la matière à « l’état de chaos… le ça des psychanalystes et de Groddeck… »
A partir de là, l’illumination : je me suis souvenu du poète grec Hésiode et de sa Théogonie : « Donc, avant tout fut CHAOS… » Mais, bon Dieu, le voilà le Chaos célinien : C’est le Ça ! Et cette Nuit née du Chaos, c’est Céline, cet enfant de la nuit qui enfante, à son tour, Voyage au bout de la nuit. Et les trois monstres : Cottos, Briarée, Gyès que leur père « cachait tous dans le sein de la Terre », ce sont les trois monstres céliniens : les pamphlets que les libraires cachent au sein des arrière-boutiques !
Le Ça célinien c’est le Big Bang initial qui crache « une masse informe et confuse… un entassement d’éléments mal unis et discordants » (Ovide), un bordel cosmique dont Céline se porte témoin, chroniqueur…
Le titre, comme le sous-titre « Petites variations sur un gros mot » ne prennent sens qu’après la lecture de l’essai. Le gros mot ne renvoie pas ici à une injure ou à une grossièreté, sens qui est le sien dans le langage courant.
Je prends l’expression gros mot dans l’acception que lui donne Paul Valéry. Celui-ci ironise sur les philosophes qui s’échinent à rendre compte de certaines réalités qui nous dépassent, et dont le sens ne se laisse pas épuiser, dont on ne peut jamais faire le tour, et qui se prêtent ainsi à toutes les définitions. Comme exemples de gros mots il proposait Dieu, Ame, Nature, Liberté, etc. A leur image le Ça n’est pas seulement le démonstratif que nous connaissons tous, il est avant tout un gros mot, parce qu’il est synonyme du Chaos.
Il s’agit, je le répète, de variations, ce qui me laisse la liberté de jouer avec ce mot qui, sous ma plume, tantôt renvoie au Chaos, tantôt redevient un simple démonstratif.
Quand il est le démonstratif, je le fais entrer dans une opposition avec Cela, ce qui me permet un petit développement sur l’intrusion de la langue parlée dans la langue écrite. Je reprends la remarque faite par Henri Godard dans Poétique de Céline : « Céline a choisi de dire “Ça a débuté comme ça.” et non : “Cela a commencé de la manière suivante” ».
Dans un autre chapitre le Ça devient synonyme du Ça freudien, et je me jette avec délice dans un développement scatologique.
On le voit donc bien : cet essai d’une centaine de pages [216 pages], est tout le contraire d’une thèse épaisse, sérieuse et ordonnancée ; il va de Ça, de Cela…
 
Pouvons-nous par ailleurs lire cette oeuvre comme étant l'expression d'une pensée mythique, transposée par l'auteur pour les besoins de son art ?
 
Que l’oeuvre de Céline plonge ses racines dans les plus anciens mythes de la tradition occidentale, qui le contesterait aujourd’hui ? Le mythe est partout chez Céline : dans ses romans et dans sa personne même. Aujourd’hui Céline est un mythe.
Lorsque Voyage au bout de la nuit parut en 1932, les contemporains, étonnés (frappés par la foudre) par la nouveauté de son écriture prirent cet auteur pour un réaliste qui ne se plaisait que dans l’évocation de l’ordure, et laissèrent souvent échapper la dimension mythique du roman.
Le Voyage nous renvoie à l’Odyssée, à Ulysse, tout cela transposé dans le monde contemporain : une Odyssée en négatif, en dégradé. A Bardamu-Ulysse Molly-Calypso ne promet pas l’éternelle jeunesse et l’immortalité, mais le gite, le couvert et la rêverie à volonté !
Dans le même roman, Bardamu devenu Énée descend aux Enfers, ceux de l’hôtel Laugh Calvin.
Le Ça qui ouvre le premier roman se présente, on l’a vu, comme l’équivalent du Chaos hésiodique, et dans Voyage les personnages plus présents que Bardamu, Robinson ou Molly, ce sont la Mort, la Nuit, le Néant.
Toujours dans la mythologie grecque les Dieux prenaient en charge ce Chaos, pour l’ordonner, l’agencer et en faire un ordre, une parure c'est-à-dire un Cosmos ; pour l’accomplissement de cette tâche, les Dieux étaient qualifiés de Démiurges : ordonnateurs du Chaos. Céline, c’est l’anti-démiurge ; ce foutoir cosmique, il se contente de le regarder et, pour nous le montrer, son écriture se modèle sur lui : une écriture éclatée. Chez lui, la parure se situe dans la beauté convulsive de son écriture : un « Cosmon Acosmon », c'est-à-dire un ordre désordonné, une parure déparée.
Parfois la mythologie fait intrusion directement dans le récit : la barque de Caron dans D’un château l’autre. Et quand il jure, Céline substitue même au Nom de Dieu classique un « nom de Styx » mythique (Féerie pour une autre fois)
 
Pour qui écrivait Céline ? Dans quel but ?
 
Peut-on répondre à une telle question, je m’en réfèrerai tout simplement… à Céline lui-même. Interrogé en 1957 par Madeleine Chapsal, journaliste à L’Express, qui lui demande «Pour qui écrivez-vous ? », il répond : « Je n’écris pas pour quelqu’un. C’est la dernière des choses, s’abaisser à ça ! On écrit pour la chose elle-même. »
Je suis d’accord avec lui : on écrit pour écrire. Pourquoi la danseuse danse-t-elle ? Pour danser, comme nous le dit Paul des cimetières Valéry. C’est ce qui différencie la marche de la danse. On marche pour aller quelque part ; la marche est utilitaire ; la danse est gratuite.
Pour quelles raisons ? Montaigne prétendait qu’il n’avait écrit Les Essais que pour ses amis, parents et alliés ! Evidemment il mentait ou bien il avait une sacrée famille : tous ses frères humains. Difficile, alors, pour ceux qui revendiquent une telle filiation de faire une cousinade !
Quant aux raisons qu’avance Céline (payer le terme), celui qui les croirait ferait la preuve qu’il est naïf, qu’il n’a rien compris.
Dans un entretien, Céline a déclaré un jour écrire « pour rendre les autres [écrivains] illisibles ». De ce côté là il n’a pas mal réussi ; il y a désormais un avant et un après Céline.
Je retournerais volontiers la question : « pour qui Céline écrivait-il » en « contre qui Céline écrivait-il ». Il écrit contre la guerre, les petits colons, les gadoues banlieusardes, contre la Mort, le cancer du rectum, contre lui-même (liste non exhaustive).
Chez Céline, écrire est un cri, celui d’Edvard Munch.
 
Avez-vous enseigné Céline dans vos classes ?
 
J’ai toujours enseigné en lycée en classe de Première et de Terminale. A cette époque il n’y avait pas un programme national, et chaque professeur avait la liberté d’expliquer les auteurs et les oeuvres qu’il souhaitait. L’enseignement des lettres était facultatif pour les terminales scientifiques et portait sur des auteurs du XXè siècle. Je choisissais donc les auteurs qui avaient ma préférence : Proust, Valéry, Bernanos, Céline. C’est ainsi que je commentais le Voyage. Par la suite, j’ai fait la même chose avec mes classes de Première. Mais dans les années 90 les programmes ont été nationalisés, et tous les élèves de toutes les classes de 1ère et Terminales Littéraires ont étudié les mêmes auteurs : Aragon, Aimé Césaire, Primo Lévi, etc. Je suppose que cela aujourd’hui a changé.
 
L'intérêt que vous portez à cet auteur vous a-t-il valu quelques désagréments d'ordre professionnel ?
 
En province, tout au moins à mon époque (1970/80), expliquer Céline n’était pas courant ; la place qui lui était allouée dans les manuels était réduite : dans le XXè Lagarde et Michard (éd 1962), 1,5 page contre 8 à Giono, 39 à Proust. Dans l’édition de 1988, de 1,5 il passe à 8 pages. Aujourd’hui le lycée où j’ai enseigné a choisi comme manuel de littérature celui des éditions Nathan qui accorde 4 pages à Céline et 3 à Sartre.
Mes élèves aimaient bien le Voyage, et l’un deux par la suite a fait une thèse de 3è cycle sur Céline ; certains parents, je l’ai su plus tard, ont été choqués de voir Céline débarquer dans le lycée ; certains s’en sont plaint, mais le proviseur arrêtait tout.
 
Sur la liste du bac de Français Céline avait sa place ; certains examinateurs faisaient des réflexions à mes élèves du genre : Ah, encore cette liste ! Les listes politiquement correctes étant celles où figuraient Boris Vian, Claire Etchérelli, Richard Wright.
Pas de désagréments, sinon une réputation sulfureuse auprès de certains collègues. Il faut dire à leur décharge que je n’ai jamais fait d’effort pour m’intégrer à cette corporation : je n’appartenais pas à leur syndicat, je n’achetais pas mes pantalons à la Camif, je ne roulais pas en Renault, je ne tractais pas une caravane… Bref, t’as pas le look, coco !
 
Propos recueillis par Emeric CIAN-GRANGÉ
Le Petit Célinien, 21 octobre 2012.

> Télécharger cet entretien (pdf)

mardi, 23 octobre 2012

Dugin Gets in the Ring

Dugin1.jpg

Dugin Gets in the Ring

Whither the Fourth Political Theory?

 
 
The Fourth Political Theory
 
 
 
is a book that is clearly not short on ambition. I haven’t actually read it, but I already know more or less what is in it from past writings by its author Professor Alexander Dugin, as well as the lengthy video presentation he gave of his ideas at the Identitarian Ideas conference held earlier this year in Stockholm.
 

Dugin believes there have been three great ideologies in modern history – Liberalism, Communism, and Fascism/National Socialism – and that we are now seeing the formation of the Fourth, which is still waiting to be properly christened and so is known by an ordinal. In the footsteps of Locke, Marx, and Mussolini, we now have Dugin.

I greatly respect and like Dugin. With his Tolstoyan beard and aura of an old church father, he’s a personable and reassuring presence. But I also know how the academic world works, and how it finds all sorts of clever ways to serve different masters, and Professor Dugin is certainly well-connected to a lot of people in the Russian establishment. Is it a coincidence that his ideas support the existence of the Russian Orthodox Church or the multi-ethnic imperialism that is the unavoidable basis for a strong Russian state?

But onto the Fourth Political Theory, with its Millenialist feel of being the fourth and final horseman of the ideological apocalypse. OK, the Theory straps a cushion to its forehead by claiming to be a work in progress, so that any blows landed on it will be softened, but already much of the groundwork has been clearly laid. The road isn’t finished, but we can more or less see where it is headed under the guidance of Professor Dugin.

The Theory supposedly arises from the criticism and deconstruction of the previous three theories, which history has already revealed to be full of flaws and responsible for a great deal of suffering and confusion. Dugin seems happy enough to ride along with modern Liberalism’s historical demolition of Marxism and Fascism, as this makes it a tidy knuckle-to-knuckle, winner-takes-all match between his Fourth Theory and the still undefeated champion, Liberalism.

Seconds out – Ding! Ding! Ding!

dugin-fpt.jpgDespite past attempts by the Second and Third Theories to claim the crown of modernity, Dugin believes that Liberalism has triumphed here and has managed to irrevocably present itself as the only truly “modern” way. It has also succeeded in presenting itself as the “natural order,” rather than a mere ideology.

To destroy Liberalism, Dugin strikes as these points. But rather than trying to claim that the Fourth Theory is more modern than Liberalism, his strategy is to try to get away from the whole idea of modernity itself by appealing to pre-modern values and conceptualizing them as post-modern eternal values. There is more than a touch of his Old Believer Russian Orthodoxy here.

This is not so much a heavy punch to the ribs of Liberalism as a bit of fancy footwork to avoid Liberalism’s nasty left hook. Modernity is not so easily discarded, as Dugin seems to believe. It operates as the measure of ideological victory, without which no battle can take place. His call to discard modernity is therefore a call for a defensive ceasefire or a time out.

Another key point for Dugin to attack is the subjects or agents of the other three theories. The economic classes of Marxism are presented as outmoded; Fascism’s state as something of a bourgeois innovation; and National Socialist race as a “kind of construction” and not very useful.

Although his punches are only glancing ones here, it does not matter, as these two systems are supposedly punch-drunk losers propping up the bar, muttering “I coulda been a contender.” Where Dugin is more effective is in battering Liberalism’s all-important individual.

This is his mighty opponent’s soft spot and Dugin makes hay here and even gets into position to unleash his KO, but this is where his attack comes unstuck. While all the previous systems have strong subjects/agents that human beings can all feel passionate about – race, nation, class, and our own beloved selves – the Fourth Theory substitutes Heidegger’s flat-footed and abstruse “Dasein” concept. You couldn’t imagine the Bastille being stormed or Stalingrad being held for the sheer pleasure of “being there”!

As a philosophical phrase that says very little by saying too much, it is appropriate that it is then extrapolated into a kind of blanket multi-polarity and call for a true multiculturalism (depoliticized in the case of Russia) and even multi-chronology. Regarding this latter concept, Dugin calls for a world where societies can exist that operate on different temporal patterns, such as cyclical, linear, or more complex. He also calls for the rejection of universal values and comparisons. This is clearly heavily defensive boxing, aimed at avoiding the clever jabs and looming thump that Liberalism is aiming at Putin’s Russia.

The Ascendant Order

Dugin’s interpretation of the previous three theories has a kind of grace, regularity, and ascendant pattern to it. There is natural and elegant progression from the individual to class, and from class to the state (or race). While the other three ideologies nobly struggled in the ring of modernity, and had subjects/agents that could inspire the masses, the Fourth Political Theory has a snatch of Heidegger embroidered on its boxing shorts and seems to be climbing through the ropes with its towel flying through the air behind it.

Perhaps the problem is ideology itself. While Dugin is happy to abandon notions of modernity, he is less happy to abandon ideology. This is only to be expected from an academic who eats, sleeps, and breathes ideology. So, do we actually need it?

Ideology has a progressive nature that does not endear it to many on the Right, but progress is essential in any system that is not based on pure stagnation. Even a cyclical system needs progress to get to the point of its collapse and rebirth. Ideology creates progress through competing with the status quo, or by helping a rising system to become manifest. Therefore, in addition to each ideology having a subject or an agent, history also demonstrates that it needs some kind of enemy or rival: Liberalism’s enemy was the old order; Marxism’s was Liberalism; Fascism’s was Marxism; and Neo-Liberalism’s was Fascism and Marxism.

The problem of the Neo-Liberal world order is that there seems no longer to be any enemy, thus endless stagnation looms. Progress will only arise when Neo-Liberalism in its turn becomes the defeated enemy. On this basis, a strong case exists for the necessity of a Fourth Ideology. But after this, will we need a fifth or sixth, and so on into infinity? The chances are that our technologically enhanced world cannot handle this kind of vast, intense dialectical struggle many times more, so it is essential that the Fourth Political Theory should internalize the engine of progress that has previously come from ideological conflict.

Escaping the Dialectical

As it now stands, the Fourth Political Theory is more a reflection of Russo-centric concerns, and also seems inconsistent with the broader ideological framework that Dugin has outlined. In order for it to gain wider credibility it will have to take on board some of the following points:

Firstly, it should be entirely divorced from any agenda that reflects specific political or religious goals or interests, such as those elements of Russian political pragmatism I constantly detect in Dugin’s work.

Secondly, modernity should not be abandoned. If we are to have an ideological battle, we need winners and losers, and we need a common standard by which to judge them. Communism understood this and so did Fascism, and both were ahead of Liberalism on points for most of their bouts. “Da Sein” and multi-chronology is a form of retreatism.

Thirdly, dismissing Communism and Fascism is premature. Although both were defeated, neither was a purely ideological defeat. Fascism’s defeat was mainly military, while Communism’s was economic. To use boxing terminology one last time, you could say that both were lucky knock outs. These two contestants should be readmitted to the ideological battle until they are defeated ideologically. Neo-liberalism is not capable of doing this. Only a later political theory will be capable of this.

Fourthly, the Fourth Political Theory should be adjusted to fit more neatly into Dugin’s grand pattern of ideological evolution. Only when this is done will it be successful. History shows that Marxism opposed but also used elements of Liberalism. Fascism opposed but also used elements of Marxism and to a lesser extent Liberalism. Therefore it seems likely that the Fourth Political Theory should oppose but also include elements of Fascism and to a lesser extent Marxism.

Fifthly, the Fourth Political Theory needs to find an appropriate subject/agent, one with an existence that the masses can relate to, and one that fits into the ascendant pattern of individual, class, and state/race. The only subject that fits this bill is humanity itself.

Sixthly, to avoid the dangers of endless stagnation and further dialectical struggles resulting in Armageddon, the Fourth Political Theory will need to internalize the progressive impetus.

mercredi, 10 octobre 2012

Turkije: van kemalistisch-autoritaire tot islamitisch-autoritaire staat

Turkije: van kemalistisch-autoritaire tot islamitisch-autoritaire staat

Paul Vanden Bavière

Ex: http://www.uitpers.be/

 
Turkije: van kemalistisch-autoritaire tot islamitisch-autoritaire staat
 

Peter Edel, De diepte van de Bosporus. Een biografie van Turkije, uitg. EPO, Berchem, 2012. 344 blz., met kleurenfoto’s. € 24

Sedert 2006, toen hij in Istanbul  in het huwelijk trad met een Turkse, woont Peter Edel in de voormalige Ottomaanse hoofdstad. En maakt hij daar geschiedenis mee, waarover hij in De diepte van de Bosporus, op een boeiende en vlot lezende manier verslag uitbrengt. Tien jaar nadat de islami(s)tische Partij voor Gerechtigheid en Ontwikkeling (AKP) van premier Recep Tayyip Erdogan aan de macht kwam, is ze er nu immers in geslaagd de macht van het kemalistische establishment te breken.

Het had anders gekund voor Peter Edel. Hij studeerde immers fotografie en design in Amsterdam – met succes zoals we merken aan de prachtige kleurenfoto’s in zijn boek – en was dus niet voorbestemd om een specialist in Turkse hedendaagse geschiedenis te worden. Het toeval hielp hier een handje mee. Peter Edel hield het niet bij de kunst, maar publiceerde in 2002, ook bij de uitgeverij EPO, De schaduw van de ster: Zionisme en antizionisme, een boek over Israël dat in Nederland ophef maakte. Van een Turkse vriendin in Amsterdam vernam hij dat een uitgever in Istanbul het boek in Turkse vertaling wou uitgeven. Diezelfde vriendin stelde hem voor aan een vriendin van haar uit Istanbul die op bezoek was. Toen Edel enkele maanden later zijn Turkse uitgever in Istanbul opzocht, ontmoette hij die vriendin-van-een-vriendin opnieuw. En van het een kwam het ander. Zo werd Peter Edel freelance journalist en fotograaf in Turkije.

De politieke veranderingen waren toen al aan de gang, maar ze hadden evengoed  kunnen doodbloeden, want een procureur probeerde in 2008 de AKP te doen verbieden op grond van antiseculiere activiteiten, wat net niet lukte. Stof om over te schrijven was er ook met de nu bijna muurvast zittende onderhandelingen over de toetreding van Turkije tot de Europese Unie en ook over de Koerdische kwestie, die sedert het mislukken van geheime besprekingen tussen de regering en de Koerdische Arbeiderspartij (PKK) vorig jaar opnieuw in een gewelddadige fase is beland.

Staatsideologie

De Turkse republiek werd na de ondergang van het Ottomaanse rijk ten gevolge van de eerste wereldoorlog in 1923 opgericht door Mustafa Kemal, een militair, die daarvoor beloond werd met de titel Atatürk, de vader der Turken. Het werk van de man is indrukwekkend te noemen. Hij schoeide het land op westerse leest en legde voor jaren de officiële staatsideologie vast: Turkije werd een seculiere islamitische eenheidstaat, met één volk en één taal, een populistische staat, met een door de staat geleide economie. Na de dood van Atatürk riep het leger zich uit tot de behoeder van de erfenis van de autoritaire leider, hierbij gesteund door een elite van politici, politiemannen, professoren en andere intellectuelen, journalisten, rechters enz. Samen vormden die de zgn. “diepe staat”, die ondanks de democratisering sedert de jaren 1950 alles onder controle hield en de partijen  binnen de door haar uitgezette lijnen hield. Als politici die lijnen overschreden pleegde het leger staatsgrepen, echte in 1960, 1971 en 1980 en een verkapte in 1997, waarbij de islamistische premier Necmettin Erbakan tot aftreden werd gedwongen. Turkije bleef, ondanks vrije verkiezingen, een autoritaire staat, met beperkingen op de vrijheid van mening en op de vrijheid in het algemeen.

Nochtans kwamen er al vlug afwijkingen van de leer. Vanaf de jaren 1950 maakte de islam geleidelijk aan een terugkeer. In 1980 gingen de militairen zelfs zover de islam openlijk te gaan steunen om het communisme te bestrijden. Maar eigenlijk is Turkije geen echte seculiere staat. Atatürk heeft wel de grote verdienste dat hij de Turken de kans gaf ongelovig of op zijn minst seculier te leven. Turkije was wél een islamitische staat, waarbij de staat de islam controleerde. Naast één taal en één volk moest Turkije ook één godsdienst hebben, en aanvankelijk ook één leider, Atatürk. Als islamitische staat was er nooit een gelijke status voor christenen, alevieten en andere religieuze minderheden. De christenen werden op grote schaal verdreven en weggepest. Ook nu nog worden de weinige resterenden gediscrimineerd. Als islamitische staat ligt de “Armeense kwestie”, dan ook gevoelig. Alhoewel de genocide van 1915 werd uitgevoerd door de leiders van de Ottomaanse staat, en de republiek er niets mee te maken had.

De door de staat geleide economie begon ook al in de jaren 1950 geleidelijk te wijken en is, merkwaardig genoeg, zonder veel verzet van het leger en de kemalisten vrijwel geheel verdwenen om plaats te maken voor een neoliberale economie, waarin ook geen plaats meer is voor gelijkheid.

Één volk, één taal

Het principe van één staat, één volk, één taal is de oorzaak, al van kort na de uitroeping van de republiek, geweest van talrijke opstanden van de Koerden. Dat principe is immers negationistisch: het negeert het bestaan van minderheden, die maar Turks moeten leren, hun identiteit vergeten, en zich integreren in de Turkse maatschappij. De laatste opstand, die nog altijd voortduurt, begon in 1984 toen de Koerdische Arbeiderspartij van Abdullah Öcalan een gewapende opstand begon.

In het kader van de strijd tegen de Koerden organiseerde de “diepe staat” doodseskaders en maakte die staat zich schuldig aan moord en foltering op grote schaal. Iedereen wist dat, maar dat kwam met volle geweld in het openbaar door het Susurluk-incident, ten gevolge van een auto-ongeval in 1996 in het plaatsje Susurluk. Daar botsten een dure Mercedes 600 SEL en een vrachtwagen. In de Mercedes vielen drie doden: een politieofficier en directeur van de politieacademie in Istanbul, Hüseyin Kocodag, een gezochte extreem-rechtse Grijze Wolf en gezochte gangster, Abdullah Catli, die o.a. verantwoordelijk was voor de moord op meer dan 100 Koerdische zakenmannen, die de PKK zouden hebben gefinancierd, en diens vriendin en gewezen schoonheidskoningin Gonca Us. De enige overlevende was Sedat Bucak, een Koerdische clanleider die met duizenden Koerdische dorpswachters de PKK bestreed.
Het gaf geen mooi beeld bij de publieke opinie toen bleek dat de Turkse leiders zich volop in de illegaliteit stortten en samenwerkten met maffiabazen en drugssmokkelaars. Wel toonde het aan hoever de staat wou gaan in het bestrijden van een op zich zeker gerechtvaardigd streven van een volk voor op zijn minst culturele autonomie. Was het niet Erdogan zelf die in 2008 tijdens een bezoek aan Duitsland tegen de Turken daar zei dat “assimilatie een misdaad tegen de menselijkheid” was?

Het Susurluk-incident droeg bij tot de deligitimering van de politieke klasse, die al in diskrediet was geraakt door een catastrofale economische politiek, die tot torenhoge inflatie en achtereenvolgende devaluaties van Turkse lira leidde. Zo werd de weg geopend naar de heerschappij van de AKP.
Die zorgde aanvankelijk voor enkele doorbraken in de onderhandelingen met de EU over toetreding, maar sedert 2005 ligt het proces grotendeels plat. Nochtans heeft Erdogan veel te danken aan de EU, die opkomt voor godsdienstvrijheid. Van die Europese houding heeft Erdogan geprofiteerd om islamiserende maatregelen te nemen, zoals het toelaten van de hoofddoek in openbare gebouwen zoals universiteiten. Het heeft hem electoraal geen windeieren gelegd bij de grotendeels gelovige Turkse bevolking, vooral dan in Centraal-Anatolië, waar hij op de financiële steun kan rekenen van islamitische zakenmannen, die tot dan toe altijd in de schaduw hadden gestaan van hun grootstedelijke collega’s, die gemakkelijker op staatssteun en andere voordelen konden rekenen.

Ook pleitte de EU voor toezicht van de regering op het leger, wat de positie van de militairen  verzwakte. Geen wonder dat dit tot geruchten over het beramen van staatsgrepen door ontevreden officieren leidde. Dat leidde leidde tot de zgn. Ergenekon-affaire, in het kader waarvan vele officieren en andere leden van de “diepe staat” werden opgepakt en gevangen werden gezet in afwachting van een uitspraak in hun proces, die nog lang op zich kan laten wachten. Uiteindelijk wierp de Turkse militaire top vorig jaar uit protest de handdoek in de ring. Waarvan Erdogan gebruik maakte om ze te vervangen en zijn mannen op hun plaatsen te benoemen. Als men daarbij bedenkt dat Erdogan er via een referendum in slaagde greep te krijgen op het gerechtelijk apparaat, dan weet men dat hij momenteel de sterke man is.

Opent dat de weg naar een echt democratisch Turkije? Peter Edel heeft daar sterke twijfels over. “In haar beleid suggereert de AKP dat ze de Turken een autoritair regime wil opleggen”, schrijft hij (blz. 315). En er redenen genoeg om hem te geloven. Er is de islamisering van de republiek, de repressie van alle oppositie (Koerden, militairen…) wat in Turkije mogelijk is onder een wet die “schuld door associatie” bestraft. Nu al zitten ongeveer 8.000 Koerden gevangen omdat ze het eens zijn met bepaalde princiepen van de Koerdische PKK. Hetzelfde geldt voor journalisten, intellectuelen die relaties hadden met personen die in het kader van Ergenekon-onderzoek opgepakte werden. Ook de vrijheid van mening en meningsuiting worden strak aan banden gehouden: een honderdtal journalisten zit in Turkije in de cel, honderden websites zijn geblokkeerd door de regering, en ga zo maar door.

Het ziet er naar uit dat Erdogan elk verzet tegen zijn regering en politiek wil uitschakelen. Ook vroegere medestanders moeten het volgens Peter Edel momenteel ontgelden. Zo werkte Erdogan in zijn strijd tegen de kemalisten jaren lang samen met Fethüllah Gülen de leider van een oerconservatie, anticommunistische en sterk pro-Amerikaanse Turkse organisatie met goede relaties met de CIA. Fethüllah Gülen zelf week na de staatsgreep van 1980 uit naar de Verenigde Staten omdat hij vreesde dat de militairen hem zou aanpakken. Hij woont er nog steeds. In Turkije begonnen zijn aanhangers politie, justitie en onderwijs te infiltreren. Nu de kemalisten uitgeschakeld zijn, ziet het er naar uit dat Erdogan de Gülenbeweging aan het aanpakken is. Vanuit zijn omgeving is al gesuggereerd dat er geen parallelle organisatie kan worden getolereerd. Met andere woorden concurrentie is ongewenst. Het hoofdstuk over de Gülenbeweging in het boek is niet alleen boeiend, maar ook interessant. Ook voor Europa omdat Gülen ondanks zijn fundamentalisme zich niet zonder succes heeft weten op te werpen als een gematigde islam-stem en in dat kader zelfs Israël, waarmee Erdogan op ramkoers zit, ondanks zijn vroeger openlijk antisemitisme, is gaan cultiveren. Vele Amerikaanse en Europese intellectuelen zijn, zoals ook blijkt uit opiniestukken in kranten, gecharmeerd geraakt door hem.

De vraag is of Erdogan erin zal slagen zijn project door te zetten of bij de volgende algemene verkiezingen zal worden afgestraft. Hij heeft Turkije wel een economische boost gegeven, maar Peter Edel meent dat de economie kwetsbaar blijkt. Op andere vlakken heeft Erdogan ronduit tegenslagen gehad. Hij is er niet in geslaagd van zijn “Koerdische opening” iets te maken. Ook zijn project van “zero conflict” , of de zgn. neo-Ottomaande diplomatie van zijn minister van Buitenlandse Zaken Ahmet Davutoglu, met zijn buren staat op de helling. Zowel met Grieken als Armenen geraken de problemen maar niet uit het slop. Vooral zijn bruuske wending in de goede relaties met Syrië, door de kant van de opstandelingen te kiezen, lijkt een ramp te worden: de relaties met Syrië, Irak en Iran, drie belangrijke handelspartners, zijn verzuurd met als gevolg dat ze de PKK steun zijn gaan geven. Met als gevolg dat de Koerden een bruggenhoofd hebben veroveren in de Turkse provincie Hakkari aan de grenzen met Irak en Iran en Turkije aan de grens met Syrië onder druk zetten – de Syrische president Bashar al-Assad heeft hen daar immers feitelijke autonomie gegeven. In eigen land heeft Erdogan er naast de Koerden ook vijanden bij gekregen onder de alevieten, zowat 20% van de bevolking (waaronder ook veel Koerden).

Eigenaardig genoeg is Erdogan erin geslaagd het kemalistisch establishment zeer klappen toe te dienen, maar op een aantal punten loopt zijn politiek gelijk met deze van dat establishment. Dat is zo in de Koerdische kwestie, en uiteindelijk ook in zijn relaties met de Arabische wereld.

 

mardi, 09 octobre 2012

L'économie, c'est la guerre

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L'économie, c'est la guerre

Agents secrets au service du big business

Dernier ouvrage de Frédéric Charpier

Les États se livrent une guerre économique aussi discrète qu’implacable. En temps de crise mondiale, il y va de leur survie.

La guerre s’étend dans le dédale des couloirs de l’Union européenne, de l’OMC, ou des institutions financières internationales. Elle s’invite dans les programmes secrets des laboratoires universitaires et des agences gouvernementales engagés dans des recherches stratégiques liées aux nanotechnologies, à la biométrie ou à la robotique.

Les soldats eux-mêmes sont le plus souvent indécelables. Agents secrets ou personnels de puissants et opaques réseaux d’influence, ils opèrent sous le couvert de grands groupes industriels, de cabinets d’enquête et de sociétés militaires privés. Ils se camouflent dans des centres de recherche et des fondations, infiltrent des ONG, n’hésitent pas à instrumentaliser ces modernes chevaux de Troie que sont les fonds d’investissement. À leur disposition, ils ont tous les moyens de l’intelligence économique : recherche, technologie, argent…

Frédéric Charpier a exploré les zones d’ombre, interrogé les acteurs et fouillé des milliers de documents. Des États-Unis à la Chine en passant par l’Irak, la Mauritanie ou Israël, il raconte les batailles, dévoile les coups tordus et les stratégies, s’interrogeant, enfin, sur la position de la France sur ce théâtre d’opération.

Frédéric Charpier, journaliste d’investigation, est l’auteur de nombreux ouvrages. Il a publié au Seuil Génération Occident (2005), La CIA en France (2008) et Une Histoire de fous. Le roman noir de l’affaire Clearstream (2009).

lundi, 08 octobre 2012

Gemeenteraadsverkiezingen als volksverlakkerij

Gemeenteraadsverkiezingen als volksverlakkerij

Edi CLIJSTERS

Ex: http://www.uitpers.be/  

 
Gemeenteraadsverkiezingen als volksverlakkerij
 

Fanny Wille & Kris Deschouwer, Over mensen en macht. Coalitievorming in de Belgische gemeenten, Brussel, ASP, 2012; 192 pp.

Je kan natuurlijk, een oud anarchistisch motto indachtig, van oordeel zijn dat verkiezingen in een burgerlijke democratie eigenlijk altijd en hoe dan ook volksverlakkerij zijn, want “als verkiezingen écht iets zouden veranderen, waren ze al lang afgeschaft”.

Je kan ook geloven dat die burgerlijke democratie vooralsnog het minst slechte van de reëel bestaande systemen is om het volk enige inspraak  te geven in de beleidsvorming. En dat in gemeenten – bakermat bij uitstek van democratische rechten en vrijheden – verkiezingen de mensen meer aanspreken, juist omdat ze nauwer aansluiten bij wat die mensen dag-in, dag-uit rond zich zien.

Helaas: zoals dat wel vaker het geval is, houdt dit beate wensdenken geen stand wanneer het aan ernstig onderzoek wordt onderworpen. Wat betreft de motivatie van de kiezer, spreken de cijfers voor zich : ondanks de (theoretische) opkomstplicht, laten ook bij verkiezingen voor gemeente- of provincieraden ongeveer enkele honderdduizenden kiesgerechtigde burgers het afweten (dat is zo'n 5 à 7 procent, ongeveer hetzelfde percentage als bij regionale of nationale verkiezingen).
De grotere nabijheid van kandidaten en thema's blijkt dus niet van aard om kiezers sterker te motiveren. Je kan dus met recht en reden de vraag stellen wat er zou gebeuren indien de opkomstplicht werd afgeschaft. Met name dan op gemeentelijk vlak. Want een recent boek van twee VUB-politologen heeft wel verrassende dingen – en zelfs een ronduit schokkend feit - aan het licht gebracht over het allesbehalve democratische karakter van die verkiezingen-onder-de-kerktoren.

Nu ja ...aan het licht gebracht ? Het onderzoek bevestigt een dubieus verschijnsel dat op lokaal vlak vaak werd vermoed of zelfs aangetoond, maar toch een bijzondere relevantie krijgt nu blijkt dat het schering en inslag is. In tal van gemeenten wordt namelijk al (lang) voor de gemeenteraadsverkiezingen via geheime voor-akkoorden uitgemaakt hoe de toekomstige bestuurscoalitie er zal uitzien. Het kiezerspubliek in het algemeen en de eigen achterban in het bijzonder wordt daarover geheel in het ongewisse gelaten. En tenzij de kiezers een (lokale...) politieke aardverschuiving teweegbrengen, tellen ze dus alleen maar mee “voor spek en bonen”.
Verrassend ? Schokkend ? Leerrijk in elk geval. En daarom een element in het boek dat helaas te weinig in de verf wordt gezet door de auteurs zelf, én – driewerf helaas – ook door de commentatoren die de praktijken (zouden moeten) kennen.

Maar eerst iets meer over het boek. Dat is gebaseerd op het onderzoek waarop Wille aan de VUB promoveerde, en wil zo diep mogelijk “doordringen in de zwarte doos” van de coalitievorming op lokaal niveau. Daartoe worden diverse theorieën m.b.t. coalitievorming besproken en getoetst aan de lokale realiteit – die er doorgaans heel anders uitziet. Vervolgens worden systematisch de opeenvolgende stappen ontleed die leiden tot de vorming van deze of gene coalitie, en uitvoerig aandacht besteed aan de onderlinge krachtverhoudingen, onderscheiden spelers, uiteenlopende dan wel convergerende beleidsopties, en omgevingsfactoren. Dat is een mondvol, en zelfs meer dan dat.

Want het boek lijdt aan wat ik beleefd zal omschrijven als “didactische overkill”. U herinnert zich misschien wel die prehistorische stelregel die voorschreef hoe een goede les of redevoering moest worden opgebouwd: eerst zeg je wat je gaat vertellen, dan vertel je dat, en vervolgens besluit je door samen te vatten wat je verteld hebt. De regel mag dan uit het pre-electronische steentijdperk dateren, in dit boek wordt hij grondig, zéér grondig toegepast. Kortom: als er pakweg 30 van de 180 bladzijden tekst waren geschrapt, had dit de duidelijkheid niet geschaad, en de lezer toenemende ergernis bespaard. De bekommernis om dingen duidelijk uit te leggen kan ik alleen maar toejuichen; maar je mag de lezer die een boek als dit überhaupt ter hand neemt ook niet behandelen als een nitwit aan wie je vijf keer hetzelfde moet uitleggen.

Daarmee heb ik meteen het eerste aspect aangeduid dat mij heeft geërgerd, en kan ik terugkeren tot wat dit boek wél leerrijk en vaak zelfs boeiend maakt.

Een goed overzicht van de diverse theorieën over coalitievorming, om te beginnen. Daar is niets mis mee; alleen dienen de auteurs er – zeer terecht – herhaaldelijk op te wijzen dat die theorieën vooral slaan op 'echte' regeringsvorming, maar nauwelijks een rol spelen wanneer op lokaal vlak coalities moeten worden gesloten. Wat daar telt is: in de bestuursmeerderheid geraken, tot ongeveer elke prijs. Macht dus.

Maar ook : mensen. Ook in dat opzicht verschilt kleinschalige coalitievorming duidelijk van die op een hoger niveau. In de gemeente telt, veel meer dan in regionale of nationale regeringen, of individuen “met elkaar kunnen” of niet.

Dat zijn alvast twee betekenisvolle verschillen, en ze worden uitvoerig uit de doeken gedaan.
Er is nog een derde verschil : in België is het op nationaal of zelfs regionaal niveau zo goed als ondenkbaar dat één enkele partij een absolute meerderheid verovert en dus alleen zou kunnen regeren. Terwijl in Vlaanderen in ruim een derde van de gemeenten - en in Wallonië zelfs in meer dan de helft ! - één enkele partij alleen 'regeert'.Omgekeerd kan het spel van de coalitievorming er toe leiden dat de grootste partij uit de boot valt; dat blijkt in ongeveer 10 procent van de gemeenten het geval, en dat is dan weer een verschijnsel dat men op een hoger bestuursniveau evengoed aantreft.

Het boek ontleedt minutieus alle stappen in het onderhandelingsproces dat moet uitmonden in een nieuw college van burgemeester en schepenen; ook de waarde van belangrijke posities in OCMW en intercommunales worden niet uit het oog verloren. Zo krijgt de lezer een gedetailleerd beeld van wat zich zo al allemaal afspeelt voor, tijdens en na de verkiezingsslag, voor en achter de schermen.
Veel daarvan is voor de geïnteresseerde waaarnemer niet echt nieuw, en in die zin vormt het boek een zoveelste illustratie van de vaak gehoorde misprijzende bedenking dat nogal wat sociaal- of politiek-wetenschappelijk onderzoek weinig méér doet dan bevestigen “wat iedereen al wist”.

Alleen wordt dat dan nu als 'bewezen' beschouwd...
Tegenover dit soort goedkope kritiek is het bijzonder jammer dat de écht nieuwe, ophefmakende onthulling van dit onderzoek niet duidelijker in de verf wordt gezet: dat er namelijk al zoveel wordt beslist, lang vóór de verkiezingen en ver àchter de schermen. Dat voor-akkoorden om in dezelfde of in een nieuwe coalitie samen te besturen al zijn afgesloten (en soms zelfs bij een notaris gedeponeerd) lang vóór de kiezer zijn zeg heeft gehad.

Dàt zoiets gebeurt is al kras. Nog krasser is de vaststelling dat die praktijk schering en inslag is. Want daarover laten de auteurs geen twijfel: “waar men gaat langs Vlaamse of Waalse wegen komt men voorakkoorden tegen” !

Hier situeert zich dan ook mijn tweede essentiële kritiek. Er valt zeker iets te zeggen voor de stelling dat een wetenschappelijk onderzoek zich moet of mag beperken tot het aan het licht brengen van bepaalde mechanismen, maar zich dient te onthouden van een waarde-oordeel daarover. Maar wanneer je achteraf op basis van dat onderzoek een boek op de markt brengt dat toch duidelijk bedoeld is voor een breder publiek … moet je wellicht wél je nek uitsteken en duidelijk een standpunt innemen tegenover een uitgesproken ondemocratisch verschijnsel. Dat mag zeker worden verwacht van wetenschappers die er doorgaans niét voor terugschrikken het politieke wereldje de les te lezen...

Zo'n duidelijk standpunt ontbreekt in dit boek. Met een “iedereen doet het” is de kous m.i. niet af, wanneer je vaststelt dat de wil van de kiezer op zo'n flagrante manier buiten spel wordt gezet – zelfs al is dat dan slechts op lokaal niveau. En dat verkiezingen de politiek nu eenmaal tot een “hoogst onzekere omgeving” maken, tja … dat geldt tenslotte niet alleen voor het gemeentelijke niveau. Het is precies een wezenskenmerk van democratie dat machthebbers die macht ook kunnen verliezen. Dat zij zich aan die onzekerheid willen onttrekken is ongetwijfeld begrijpelijk vanuit hùn standpunt, maar niet vanuit dat van iemand die begaan is met de kwaliteit van onze democratie.

Dat een partij nog voor de verkiezingen een bondgenootschap aangaat met een of meer andere partij(en) kan alleen maar worden gerechtvaardigd indien dat ook open en eerlijk gebeurt, zodat de kiezers weten waar ze aan toe zijn. Dan kunnen ze nog altijd soeverein uitmaken of ze dat spel meespelen of niet.

Het zou dus bijvoorbeeld leerrijk zijn geweest enkele gevallen – of tenminste één geval – nader te onderzoeken waarin een bestaand voor-akkoord niet kon worden uitgevoerd omdat uiteindelijk de kiezer de kaarten beduidend anders deelde dan verwacht. Want misschien gebeurde dat juist omdat men een of andere afspraak vermoedde, en die wou doorkruisen. Wie wil, mag dat als een suggestie voor een volgend proefschrift beschouwen.

Méér dan een suggestie is mijn laatste punt van kritiek: over het feit dat allerlei belangrijke posities in intercommunales helemààl niet aan het oordeel van de kiezer worden onderworpen, wordt in dit boek ook ergerlijk licht heengegaan. Je kan natuurlijk aanvoeren dat dit tenslotte de 'prijs' is die de winnaars in de wacht slepen. Maar recente gebeurtenissen hebben, dacht ik, toch voldoende aangetoond dat ook – of zelfs met name – op dat niveau wat meer democratische controle en inspraak zeker geen kwaad kan. Kortom: ook hier schieten de kritische wetenschappers tekort.

Slotsom: een leerrijk en zelfs onthullend, maar uiteindelijk onbevredigend boek, omdat het te braaf blijft.

dimanche, 07 octobre 2012

Lüge und Betrug als Herrschaftsinstrumente

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Helmut MÜLLER:

Lüge und Betrug als Herrschaftsinstrumente

Lug und Trug regieren die Welt. So heißt es im Volksmund. Und es könnte sogar stimmen. Vor etwa einem Jahr  erschien das Buch „La grande Fraude“ (Ed. Odile Jacob), also „der große Betrug“, des  angesehenen französischen Kriminologen und Politik-Strategen Jean-Francois Gayraud, in dem dieser  den Ursachen und Motiven der von den USA ausgehenden Finanzkrisen nachgeht. Sein Befund läßt, wie zu erwarten, das Ursprungsland der Krise  und die internationale Bankenwelt gar nicht gut aussehen. 

 

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Die  ganze Finanzkrise sei nichts anderes als ein Riesenbetrug. Eine blinde oder willfährige Politik und die heilige Kuh „Deregulierung“ (und nicht bloß ein oder zwei Banken)  hätten wichtigen Finanzkreisen Tür und Tor für kriminelles Verhalten in großem Maßstab geöffnet. Solange dies nicht eingesehen wird, sei an eine Gesundung des Finanzmarktes nicht zu denken, so Gayraud.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=d8VRyUQ09xw

Erinnern wir uns doch: In den 1980er Jahren kam es in den USA infolge krimineller Machenschaften  von Bankmanagern zum Zusammenbruch von Sparkassen und weiteren Geld-Instituten.                                                                                                                              Auf den Ruinen dieses Unheils wurde das US-Finanzsystem reorganisiert, und zwar mit dem Ergebnis, daß fortan  eine unbegrenzte Kreditschöpfung möglich war.                            Den kleinen Leuten wurden so genannte Subprime-Kredite  (Hypothekenkredite mit geringer Bonität) aufgeschwatzt, obwohl man wußte, daß die Kreditnehmer das geliehene Geld nie zurückzahlen würden können.                                                                                                                                                                          Als dies nicht mehr zu verheimlichen war, nahmen die Banken diese Kredite aus ihren Bilanzen und warfen die inzwischen wertlos gewordenen Papiere auf den globalen Markt.  Die wohl absichtlich geschaffene Blase durfte platzen. Mit dem Ergebnis, daß am Ende  unerwünschte Dollarguthaben von Nicht- Amerikanern in der Höhe von 750 Milliarden Dollar verpufft sind. Aber anders als bei den Banken, ohne Aussicht auf  Entschädigung irgendeiner Art für die Masse der privaten Anleger.

Zwar verloren die USA dabei auch, doch ihr sind, anders als nichtamerikanischen  Käufern, immerhin die Häuser und Grundstücke geblieben. Nach Bereinigung der privaten Konkurse, darf das Spiel wahrscheinlich  wieder von vorne beginnen.                                   Das von Politik, Wallstreet und Ratingagenturen aufgezogene, kaum kontrollierte System ist ja eine Garantie dafür, daß die nächste große Krise vorbereitet und ein noch größerer Reibach erwartet werden kann.

Nun kommt aber Gayraud noch zu anderen Erkenntnissen: Dieses Finanzsystem sei auch ein günstiges Umfeld für  die Organisierte Kriminalität (OK),  die sich darin wie ein Fisch im Wasser  bewegen kann. In einem Vortrag vor der dafür zuständigen EU-Kommission  am 19. Juni 2012  hat der Kriminologe  auch darauf aufmerksam gemacht, daß durch die restriktive Kreditvergabepraxis  der Banken ein OK-Schattenbankwesen entstanden sei.

 

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Nicht zuletzt aber werde durch die OK die systemische Korruption in der Politik gefördert, und es gebe Anzeichen, daß sich diese Organisationen in Kooperations-Richtung von Terrorismus und Kriminalität im weißen Hemdkragen bewege. Wirklich bedenklich sei vor allem die Erkenntnis, daß  die Politik immer mehr von der OK unterwandert werde und kleine, schwache Staaten von ihr  abhängig werden könnten.

Es hat, in der Tat, längst den Anschein, die Völker seien Großbetrügern im Maßanzug, korrupten, machtgeilen Politikern und der Organisierten Kriminalität bereits vollends ausgeliefert. Daß auf diesem Feld die USA beispielgebend sind, kann spätestens nach dem berühmten 11. September 2011 mit Fug und Recht behauptet werden.  Auch da wurde die Welt nach Strich und Faden belogen, und wir in der Folge um unsere Sicherheit und Freiheit gebracht.                                                                                                                                                            Wer daran noch immer zweifelt und die Lügen der veröffentlichten Meinung für die Wahrheit hält, dem seien Susan Lindauers erhellende Ausführungen  zu diesem Thema empfohlen. Die ehemalige CIA-Mitarbeiterin macht nach  zehn Jahren Schweigepflicht  mehr als deutlich, wie der 11. September  – von den Vorbereitungen bis zum Attentat  – abgelaufen sein dürfte und  daß die nachfolgenden Kriege (Irak, Afghanistan)  bzw. die von Washington geplante Neuordnung des Nahen und Mittleren Ostens längst vor diesem Datum beschlossene Sache gewesen seien.

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Es fehlte eigentlich nur mehr ein das Unternehmen Neue Weltordnung vor der Öffentlichkeit   rechtfertigendes  offizielles und unumstößliches  Signal. Der darauf folgende  Krieg gegen den selbst hochgezüchteten  islamistischen Terror  dient in Wirklichkeit dazu, weitergehende  politische und ökonomische Absichten strategischer Natur  auf Kosten der Völker in diesem Raum und zum Schaden der Europäer  (Nato-Sklaven) und anderer umzusetzen.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z-uj79SEgjQ

Was übrigens diese Neuordnung betrifft, hier ein kleines Indiz dafür, wohin der nahöstliche, sprichwörtliche Hase zu laufen hat: Die Sprecherin  des oppositionellen Syrian National Council (SNC), Bassama Kodmani; nachweislich gut vernetzt mit der Ford Foundation  und dem Council of  Foreign Relations (CFR) wurde nach 2008 (!) wieder bei der Bilderberg-Konferenz, dieses Mal in in Chantilly, Virginia,  gesichtet.

samedi, 29 septembre 2012

Guillaume Faye à Nantes

 Guillaume Faye à Nantes

fayenaoned

jeudi, 20 septembre 2012

Unthinking Liberalism: A. Dugin’s The Fourth Political Theory

Unthinking Liberalism:
Alexander Dugin’s The Fourth Political Theory

by Alex KURTAGIC

Ex: http://www.counter-currents.com/

Alexander Dugin
The Fourth Political Theory, London: Arktos, 2012

Arktos recently published what we can only hope will be the first of many more English translations of Alexander Dugin’s work. Head of the sociology department in Moscow State University, and a leading Eurasianist with ties to the Russian military, this man is, today, influencing official Kremlin policy.

The Fourth Political Theory is a thoroughly refreshing monograph, combining clarity of analysis, philosophical rigor, and intellectual creativity. It is Dugin’s attempt to sort through the confusion of modern political theory and establish the foundations for a political philosophy that will decisively challenge the dominant liberal paradigm. It is not, however, a new complete political theory, but rather the beginning of a project. The name is provisional, the theory under construction. Dugin sees this not as the work of one man, but, because difficult, a collective heroic effort.

The book first sets out the historical topology of modern political theories. In Dugin’s account, liberalism, the oldest and most stable ideology, was in modernity the first political theory. Marxism, a critique of liberalism via capitalism, was the second. Fascism/National Socialism, a critique of both liberalism and Marxism, was the third. Dugin says that Fascism/National Socialism was defeated by Marxism (1945), that Marxism was defeated by liberalism (1989), leaving liberalism triumphant and therefore free to expand around the globe.

According to Dugin, the triumph of liberalism has been so definitive, in fact, that in the West it has ceased to be political, or ideological, and become a taken-for-granted practice. Westerners think in liberal terms by default, assuming that no sane, rational, educated person could think differently, accusing dissenters of being ideological, without realizing that their own assumptions have ideological origins.

The definitive triumph of liberalism has also meant that it is now so fully identified with modernity that it is difficult to separate the two, whereas control of modernity was once contested by political theory number one against political theories two and three. The advent of postmodernity, however, has marked the complete exhaustion of liberalism. It has nothing new to say, so it is reduced endlessly to recycle and reiterate itself.

Looking to identify what may be useful to salvage, Dugin proceeds to break down each of the three ideologies into its component parts. In the process of doing so, he detoxifies the two discredited critiques of liberalism, which is necessary to be able to cannibalize them. His analysis of liberalism follows Alain de Benoist. Because it is crucial, I will avail myself of de Benoist’s insights and infuse some of my own in Dugin’s explication of liberalism.

Dugin says that liberalism’s historical subject is the individual. The idea behind liberalism was to “liberate” the individual from everything that was external to him (faith, tradition, authority). Out of this springs the rest: when you get rid of the transcendent, you end up with a world that is entirely rational and material. Happiness then becomes a question of material increase. This leads to productivism and economism, which, when the individual is paramount, demands capitalism. When you get rid of the transcendent, you also eliminate hierarchy: all men become equal. If all men are equal, then what applies to one must apply to all, which means universalism. Similarly, if all men are equal, then all deserve an equal slice of the pie, so full democracy, with universal suffrage, becomes the ideal form of government. Liberalism has since developed flavors, and the idea of liberation acquires two competing meanings: “freedom from,” which in America is embodied by libertarians and the Tea Party; and “freedom to,” embodied by Democrats.

Marxism’s historical subject is class. Marxism is concerned chiefly with critiquing the inequities arising from capitalism. Otherwise, it shares with liberalism an ethos of liberation, a materialist worldview, and an egalitarian morality.

Fascism’s historical subject is the state, and National Socialism’s race. Both critique Marxism’s and liberalism’s materialist worldview and egalitarian morality. Hence, the simultaneous application of hierarchy and socialism.

With all the parts laid out on the table, Dugin then selects what he finds useful and discards the rest. Unsurprisingly, Dugin finds nothing useful in liberalism. The idea is to unthink it, after all.

Spread out across several chapters, Dugin provides a typology of the different factions in the modern political landscape—e.g., fundamental conservatism (traditionalism), Left-wing conservatism (Strasserism, National Bolshevism, Niekisch), conservative revolution (Spengler, Jünger, Schmitt, Niekisch), New Left, National Communism, etc. It is essential that readers understand these so that they may easily recognize them, because doing so will clarify much and help them avoid the errors arising from opaque, confused, contradictory, or misleading labels.

Liberal conservatism is a key category in this typology. It may sound contradictory on the surface, because in colloquial discourse mainstream politics is about the opposition of liberals vs. conservatives. Yet, and as I have repeatedly stated, when one examines their fundamentals, so-called “conservatives” (a misleading label), even palaeoconservatives (another misleading label), are all ideologically liberals, only they wish to conserve liberalism, or go a little slower, or take a few steps back. Hence, the alternative designation for this type: “status-quo conservative.”

Another key category is National Communism. This is, according to Dugin, a unique phenomenon, and enjoys a healthy life in Latin America, suggesting it will be around for some time to come. Evo Morales and Hugo Chavez are contemporary practitioners of National Communism.

Setting out the suggested foundations of a fourth political ideology takes up the rest of Dugin’s book. Besides elements salvaged from earlier critiques of liberalism, Dugin also looks at the debris that in the philosophical contest for modernity was left in the periphery. These are the ideas for which none of the ideologies of modernity have had any use. For Dugin this is essential to an outsider, counter-propositional political theory. He does not state this in as many words, but it should be obvious that if we are to unthink liberalism, then liberalism should find its nemesis unthinkable.

But the process of construction begins, of course, with ontology. Dugin refers to Heidegger’s Dasein. Working from this concept he would like the fourth political theory to conceptualize the world as a pluriverse, with different peoples who have different moralities and even different conceptions of time. In other words, in the fourth political theory the idea of a universal history would be absurd, because time is conceived differently in different cultures—nothing is ahistorical or universal; everything is bound and specific. This would imply a morality of difference, something I have proposed as counter-propositional to the liberal morality of equality. In the last consequence, for Dugin there needs to be also a peculiar ontology of the future. The parts of The Fourth Political Theory dealing with these topics are the most challenging, requiring some grounding in philosophy, but, unsurprisingly, they are also where the pioneering work is being done.

Also pioneering, and presumably more difficult still, is Dugin’s call to “attack the individual.” By this he means, obviously, destabilizing the taken-for-granted construct that comprises the minimum social unit in liberalism—the discrete social atom that acts on the basis of rational self-interest, a construct that should be distinguished from “a man” or “a woman” or “a human.” Dugin makes some suggestions, but these seem nebulous and not very persuasive at this stage. Also, this seems quite a logical necessity within the framework of this project, but Dugin’s seeds will find barren soil in the West, where the individual is almost sacrosanct and where individualism results from what is possibly an evolved bias in Northern European societies, where this trait may have been more adaptive than elsewhere. A cataclysmic event may be required to open up the way for a redefinition of what it is to be a person. Evidently the idea is that the fourth political theory conceptualizes a man not as an “individual” but as something else, presumably as part of a collectivity. This is probably a very Russian way of looking at things.

The foregoing may all seem highly abstract, and I suspect practically minded readers will not take to it. It is hard to see how the abstract theorizing will satisfy the pragmatic Anglo-Saxon, who is suspicious of philosophy generally. (Jonathan Bowden was an oddity in this regard.) Yet there are real-world implications to the theory, and in Dugin’s work the geopolitical dimension must never be kept out of sight.

For Dugin, triumphant liberalism is embodied by Americanism; the United States, through its origins as an Enlightenment project, and through its superpower status in the twentieth and twenty-first century, is the global driver of liberal practice. As such, with the defeat of Marxism, it has created, and sought to perpetuate, a unipolar world defined by American, or Atlanticist, liberal hegemony. Russia has a long anti-Western, anti-liberal tradition, and for Dugin this planetary liberal hegemony is the enemy. Dugin would like the world to be multipolar, with Atlanticism counterbalanced by Eurasianism, and maybe other “isms.” In geopolitics, the need for a fourth political theory arises from a need to keep liberalism permanently challenged, confined to its native hemisphere, and, in a word, out of Russia.

While this dimension exists, and while there may be a certain anti-Americanism in Dugin’s work, Americans should not dismiss this book out of hand, because it is not anti-America. As Michael O’Meara has pointed out in relation to Yockey’s anti-Americanism, Americanism and America, or Americans, are different things and stand often in opposition. Engaging with this kind of oppositional thinking is, then, necessary for Americans. And the reason is this: liberalism served America well for two hundred years, but ideologies have a life-cycle like everything else, and liberalism has by now become hypertrophic and hypertelic; it is, in other words, killing America and, in particular, the European-descended presence in America.

If European-descended Americans are to save themselves, and to continue having a presence in the North American continent, rather than being subsumed by liberal egalitarianism and the consequent economic bankruptcy, Hispanization, and Africanization, the American identity, so tied up with liberalism because of the philosophical bases of its founding documents, would need to be re-imagined. Though admittedly difficult, the modern American identity must be understood as one that is possible out of many. Sources for a re-imagined identity may be found in the archaic substratum permeating the parts of American heritage that preceded systematic liberalism (the early colonial period) as well as in the parts that were, at least for a time, beyond it (the frontier and the Wild West). In other words, the most mystical and also the least “civilized” parts of American history. Yet even this may be problematic, since they were products of late “Faustian” civilization. A descent into barbarism may be in the cards. Only time will tell.

For Westerners in general, Dugin’s project may well prove too radical, even at this late stage in the game—contemplating it would seem first to necessitate a decisive rupture. Unless/until that happens, conservative prescriptions calling for a return to a previous state of affairs (in the West), or a closer reading of the founding documents (in America), will remain a feature of Western dissidence. In other words, even the dissidents will remain conservative restorationists of the classical ideas of the center, or the ideas that led to the center. Truly revolutionary thinking—the re-imagining and reinvention of ourselves—will, however, ultimately come from the periphery rather than the center.

 


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mercredi, 19 septembre 2012

G. Faye: The Transitional Program

The Transitional Program

By Michael O'Meara

Ex: http://www.counter-currents.com/

A propos of . . .

Guillaume Faye
Mon Programme: Un programme révolutionnaire ne vise pas à changer les règles du jeu mais à changer de jeu,
Chevaigné: Les Éditions du Lore, 2012

Following quickly on the heels of Sexe et dévoiement [3] (2011), which examined the social-sexual roots of the present European demographic crisis, Faye’s latest is a much different kind of work, addressing quite another, though not entirely unrelated problem.

Theory and Practice

When dealing with political ideas in the largest sense (i.e., as they bear on the life or death of the polis), there comes a time, he argues, when critical and analytical thought, with its commentaries and opinions, has to pass from the abstract to the concrete. The most brilliant medical diagnosis, to give an analogy, is worth little if it does not eventually lead to a curative therapy.

In this vein, his Programme represents an effort to pass from the theoretical to the practical, as it proposes certain concrete policies (political therapies) to treat the ills presently afflicting the French state – and by extension, other European states. The details of this program make little reference to the American situation, but its general principles speak to the malignancy infecting all states of the Americanosphere.

Reform and Revolution

Faye’s program is not, ostensibly, about reforming the existing state. That would only “improve” a political system, whose corruptions, vices, and totalitarian powers are increasing immune to correction. The state’s lack of authority and democratic legitimacy, combined with the entrenchment of the New Class interests controlling it, means that such a system cannot actually be changed in any significant way. Hence the claim of Faye’s subtitle: A revolutionary program (i.e., one that attacks the existing disorder at its roots) “does not aim at changing the rules of the game but at changing the game itself.” The “game” here is the existing political system, which has become an obvious catastrophe for European peoples. For every patriot, this system needs not to be changed, but to be razed and rebuilt – from the ground up and according to an entirely different paradigm.

There is, though, a certain terminological confusion in the way Faye describes his program. He realizes it is something of a pipe dream. No state or party is likely to embrace it — though, of course, this does not lessen the value of its exercise nor does it mean it will not fertilize future projects of a similar sort. We also do not know what is coming and perhaps there will be a moment of breakdown — Joseph Tainter’s “Collapse” — making possible a revolutionary transition. If “we” should ever, then, have the occasion to assume power and restructure the state: how would we go about it?

Faye’s Programme is an effort to start thinking about such an alternative in a situation where a regime-threatening crisis of one sort or another brings a “new majority” to power. He doesn’t specifically spell out what such a crisis might entail, but it is easily imaginable. In 2017, for example, if the present society-destroying problems of unemployment, deindustrialization, massive indebtedness, uncontrolled Third World immigration, etc., are not fixed, and nothing suggests that they will, an anti-system party, like the National Front, could conceivably be voted into power. (Think of what is happening in Greece today.) In such a situation a new majority might submit something like his Programme to a referendum, calling on the “people” to authorize a radical re-structurization of the political system.

I can think of at least two national revolutions that came to power in a similar institutional (legal) way: the Sinn Féin MPs of December 1918 who refused to sit at Westminster and the NSDAP coalition that got a chance to form a government in January 1933.

The Programme anticipates a less catastrophic situation than foreseen in his Convergence des castastrophes (2004) or implied in Avant-Guerre (2002). Perhaps he is suggesting that this scenario is more realistic or likely now; I’m not certain. But it is strange to see so little of his convergence theory — what Tainter calls the ever mounting costliness of complexity — in his program, especially while positing a crisis as the program’s premise.

In any case, his Programme assumes its political remediation is to be administered before the present system collapses, at a moment when a new majority gets a chance to form a government from the debris of the old. For this reason, I think it is better characterized as “transitional” (in the Trotskyist sense).

Unlike a revolutionary program that outlines a strategy for overturning the existing order and seizing state power, a transitional program addresses a crisis in terms of the existing institutional parameters, but does so in ways that reach beyond their limits and are unacceptable to the ruling powers — challenging the system’s logic and thus posing a threat to its “order.” (See Leon Trotsky, The Death Agony of Capitalism and the Tasks of the Fourth International [1938].)

The State

In The Politics, Aristotle conceives of the state almost organically: the head of a body (the polis) — the political system that rules the City and ensures order within its measured boundaries.

In his self-consciously Aristotelian approach — which favors individual liberty, responsibility, hierarchy, and ethno-cultural homogeneity — Faye’s program aims at lessening the state’s costly, inefficient administrative functions, enhancing its sovereign powers, and abandoning its appropriation of functions that properly belong to the family and society.

This entails freeing the French state from the present European Union (whose Orwellian stranglehold on continental life is objectively anti-European). He does not actually advocate withdrawing from it, but rather refusing to cooperate with it until its rules are redesigned and national sovereignty is restored. Given that France is the most politically significant of the European states and is pivotal the EU’s existence, it has the power to force a major revamping of its policies and restore the European Idea that inspired the Treaty of Rome (1958).

If achieved, this restoration of national sovereignty would give the French state the freedom to remodel its institutions — not for the sake of undermining the primacy of the state, as our libertarians would have it, but of excising its cancers and enhancing its “regalian” will to “re-establish, preserve, and develop the identity, the prosperity, the security, and the power of France and Europe.”

Faye is not a traditional French nationalist, but a Europeanist favoring continental unity (an imperial family of nations rather than a global marketplace). He believes both the French state and the EU have a liberal-socialist concept of the political, which makes them unable to distinguish between their friends and enemies — given that the individualist, universalistic, and pluralist postulates of their ideology views the world in market and moralist terms, holding that only individualistic matters of ethics and economics are primary. (In traditional, organic civilizations it is the Holy that is primary.)

A restoration of sovereignty would give the French state the freedom to restructure and rebuild itself.

Globally, he proposes measures that would control the nation’s borders, re-vitalize its national economy, improve its efficiency, reduce its costs, amputate its nomenclature, streamline its functions, and concentrate on the national interest, and not, like now, on the special interests. But there is nothing in the Programme that would mobilize the French themselves for the transition. It is strictly a top-down project that ignores what Patrick Pearse called “the sovereign people,” who are vital to the success of every revolutionary movement.

The state, in any case, is too large — which is true almost everywhere. At its top and bottom: its functions and personnel need to be greatly reduced — cabinet positions should fall to six (Defense, Justice, Foreign Affairs, Interior, Economy, and Instruction/Patrimony) and the number of state functionaries cut by at least 50 percent. Faye’s proposals would remove cumbersome, over-regulating, and counter-productive state agencies for the sake of freeing up funds for more worthwhile investments in the private economy.

Toward these ends, he proposes overturning the anti-democratic role of judges, who in the name of the Constitution thwart the popular will (constitutional questions would be left to the Senate); introducing referendums that give the electorate a greater say in major policy decisions; restoring popular liberties, like the right to free speech; introducing “positive” law that judges the crime and not the criminal; abolishing the privileges of higher state functionaries (now greater than those of the 18th-century aristocracy); and eliminating the present confusion of state powers.

The Economy

In the modern world, the power (in a material sense) of a nation-state is in its economy. (The health and longevity of the nation — in the spiritual sense — is another thing, dependent on its demography, the preservation of it genetic heritage, the quality of its culture, and the culture’s transmission.)

Though conscious of the dangers posed by economism, Faye believes “prosperity” is necessary (though not sufficient) for social harmony and national defense. State and economy for him are different realms, operating according to different logics. But he rejects both the Marxist contention that the state’s political economy can do anything it wishes in the market and the liberal-conservative position that it can do nothing. Straddling the two, he advocates a political economy whose guiding principles are non-ideological and pragmatic. “What counts is what works — not what conforms to a dogma.” Sound economic practice is based on experience, not theory.

The great financial crisis of 2008, whose ravages are still evident, was not, he claims, a crisis of capitalism, but a crisis of the welfare-state — and thus a crisis of “statism” (étatisme). The crippling state debt allegedly at the root of this crisis stems, he argues, from the state’s profligate spending, its ever-growing number of functionaries, its bureaucratic mismanagement and cronyism, and its unsupportable social charges, like the Afro-Arab hordes occupying its banlieues. Left-wing talk of ultra-liberalism is delusional in economic systems as regulated as those of Europe. In living beyond its means, the state has acquired debts it cannot afford and now blames it on others.

Faye dismisses those who claim the crisis was created by a conspiracy of banksters and vampire capitalists. Targeting solely the failures of the present political system, he does not see or think it is important that there is something of a revolving door (perhaps greater in the US than France) between the state and the corporations, that the crimes of the money powers are intricately linked to state policies, and thus that the economic interests have a corrupting and distorting effect on the state.

In his anti-Marxism, Faye is wont to stress the primacy of the “superstructure,” rather than the economic “base” (which, most of the time, is probably a reliable rule of thumb). Similarly, he does not relate the current crisis to globalization, which has everywhere undermined the existing models of governance, nor does he consider the often nefarious role played by the IMF, the WTO, and the new global oligarchs.

He blames the crisis solely on the state’s incompetent and spendthrift policies, leaving blameless the money-lenders and criminals, whose bail-out caused the national debt to escalate beyond any imaginable repayment. The state may be primary to a people’s existence, but in the neo-liberal regimes of the West, it is clearly attentive, if not subordinated to the dominant economic interests. The two (state and economy) seem hardly understandable today except in relation to one another — though he wants us to believe the cause of the crisis was purely political. (In my mind, it is civilizational.)

In any case, the French state is over-administrated, “socialist” in effect; it has too many workers (almost 25 percent of the workforce); it pursues social-engineering domestically and economy-destroying free-trade policies internationally, the most self-destroying policies conceivable. Given capitalism’s quantitative logic, its globalist free-trade policies are also destroying Europe’s ability to compete with low-wage Third World economies, like China, and are thus devastating the productive capacity of its economies.

France and Europe, Faye argues, need to protect themselves from the ravages of global free trade by creating a Eurasian autarkic economic zone, from Galway to Vladivostok (what he once called “Eurosiberia,” though there’s no mention of it), and at the same time by liberalizing the domestic economy, throwing off excessive regulations and social charges for the sake of unleashing European initiative and enterprise. He calls thus for changes in the EU that focus on stimulating the European market rather than allowing it to succumb to America’s global market, which is turning the continent’s advanced economies into financialized and tertiarized economies, unable to provide decent paying jobs. The emphasis of his program is thus on national economic growth.

The present policy of budget austerity, he argues, is compounding the crisis, causing state revenues to decline and forcing the economy into depression. Growth alone will generate the wealth needed to get out of debt. To this end, the state needs to radically cut costs, but do so without imposing austerity measures. This entails not just simplifying and rationalizing public functions, but changing the paradigm. The state should not, therefore, indiscriminately reduce public expenses, but rather suppress useless, unproductive charges, while augmenting wealth-creating ones.

Basically, he wants the state to withdraw from the economy, but without abandoning its role in protecting the public and national interests. For those key sectors vital to the nation’s economy and security — energy, armaments, aerospace, and high tech — the state should exercise a certain strategic control over them, but without interfering in their management.

He also calls for a tax revolution that will unburden the middle class, while expanding the tax base. Similarly, he wants the state to encourage enterprise by relieving business of costly social charges, especially on small and middle-size enterprises that create employment; he wants the French to work more — increasing the workweek from 35 hours to 40, and decreasing annual vacations from five weeks to four; he wants a liberalization of the labor market, with a system of national preferences favoring French workers over immigrants; he wants a different system of unemployment benefits that encourages work and rationalizes job placements; he wants a cap on executive salaries and an end to golden parachutes; and he wants state subventions of public worker unions discontinued, along with their right to strike.

As a general principle, he claims the state should not grant rights it cannot afford, that those who can work should, that foreigners have no right to public services (including education), that quotas imposing artificial forms of sexual and racial equality are intolerable, and that only natives unable to work should be entitled to assistance. Social justice, he observes, is not a matter of socialist redistribution, but of a system whose pragmatic efficiencies and competitive industries are able to provide for the nation’s needs. There are, however, no proposals in his program for re-industrialization, state economic planning, or an alternative form of economy based on something other than capitalism’s incessant need to grow and consume.

Closely related to the country’s economic problems is that of the state’s failed politique familiale. The state needs to adopt measures to offset the social problems created by explosive divorce rates and non-reproducing birthrates. The aging of the population is also going to require increased medical services, which need to be expanded and improved.

As for the rising generation, he calls for a revamping of the national education system, which has become a “cretin-producing factory.” France’s Third Republic had one of the finest educational systems in the world, that of the Fifth Republic has been an utter disaster, due largely to Left-wing egalitarian policies catering to the lowest common denominator (the Barbarians at the Gates). The state, moreover, has no right to ‘educate’ youth — that is the role of the family (and, I would add, the Church). The state should instead provide schools that instruct — that convey knowledge and its methods — not inculcate the reigning Left ideologies. Discipline must also be restored; all violence and disorder in schools must be severely punished. Immigrants and non-natives ought to be excluded. Obligatory schooling should end at age 14, and a system of apprenticeship (like in Germany) should be made available to those who do not pursue academic degrees.

The universities also need to be revamped, with more rigorous forms of instruction, dress codes, tracking, and the elimination of such frivolous disciplines as psychology, sociology, communications, business, etc.

There are, though, no proposed measures in his program to strengthen the nation’s ethno-cultural identity, resist the audio-visual imperialism of America’s entertainment industry, or outlaw the NGOs funded by the CIA.

Immigration

The present soft-totalitarian ideology of the French state, like states throughout the Americanosphere, portrays immigration as an “enrichment,” though obviously it is everywhere and in all ways a disaster, threatening the nation’s ethnic fundament, its way of life, and its cultural integrity. Immigration is also code for Third World colonization and Islamization.

Against those claiming it is impossible to stem the immigrant tide, Faye contends that what is needed is a will to do so — a will to eliminate the “pull” factors (like welfare) that attract the immigrant invaders. He proposes zero immigration, the deportation of illegals, the expulsion of unemployed legal ones, the end to family regroupments, the strict policing of student and tourist visas, the abolition of exile rights, visa controls on international transportation links, the elimination of state-funded social assistance to foreigners, national preference in employment, and the replacement of jus soli by jus sanguinis.

Given that Muslims are a special threat, Faye proposes abolishing all state-supported Muslim associations, prohibiting mosque building and halal practices, imposing heavy fines on veiled women, eliminating Muslim chaplains from the military and the prison system, and implementing a general policy of restrictive legislation toward Islam. Surprisingly, he proposes no measures to break up the non-European ghettos presently sponging off French tax-payers and constituting a highly destabilizing factor within the body politic (perhaps because the above measures would prevent these ghettos from continuing to exist).

Even these relatively moderate measures, he realizes, are likely to stir up trouble, for every positive action inevitably comes with its negative effects. But unless measures aimed at stopping the “pull” factors promoting the immigrant invasion are taken, Faye warns, it may be too late for France, in which case more drastic measures will have to be taken later — and Plan B will have no pity.

The World

The state’s defense of the nation and its relationship with other states are two of its defining functions.

To those familiar with Faye’s earlier thoughts on these subjects, they will find the same general orientation — a rejection of Atlanticism, a realignment with Russia, neutrality to the US, withdrawal from the Third World, and an armed vigilance toward Islam. His stance on NATO, the US, and Russia, though, is more “moderate” than those taken in the past.

The Programme depicts the present EU as objectively anti-European, but does not call for an outright withdrawal from it. It similarly recognizes that NATO subordinates Europe to America’s destructive crusades and alliances (impinging on the basic principle of sovereignty: the right to declare war) and again does not call for a withdrawal, only a strategy to diminish its significance. And, finally, though he thinks Russia should be the axis of French policy (which is indeed her only viable geopolitical option), there is little in his program that would advance the prospects of such a realignment or re-align France against the surreptitious war of encirclement presently being waged by the US against Russia. There is also nothing on the present “unipolar-to-multipolar phase” of international politics, brought on by America’s imperial decline — as it goes about threatening war and international havoc, all the while supremely indifferent to the collapse of its own economic fundamentals. On these key policies related to France’s position in the world, he stands to the “right” of Marine Le Pen.

Faye’s program aims at restoring French sovereignty, but, as suggested, on issues relevant to its restoration, his position would greatly modify France’s submission to the anti-sovereign powers, not break with them. At the root of this apparent irresolution, I suspect, is his understanding of Islam. Faye has long designated it as Europe’s principal enemy. And there is no question that Islam, as a civilization, is objectively and threateningly anti-European, and that Muslim immigrants pose a dire threat to France’s future.

But his half-right position has taken him down a wayward path: to an alliance with Islam’s great enemy, Israel, and to an accommodation with Israel’s Guardian Angel, the United States, the world’s foremost anti-white power. For it is the American system (in arming and abetting jihadists to destabilize regimes it seeks to control) that has made Islam such a world threat and it is the American system (in the blight of its leveling commercialism and the poisonous vapors of its human rights ideology) that poses the greatest, most profound threat to European existence.

Faye’s questionable position on these issues seems, more generally, to come from ignoring the nature of the post-1945 nomos imposed by New York-Washington on defeated Europe and the rest of the non-Communist world after the Second World War. America has always had an ambivalent relationship to Europe — being both an offshoot of European Christian civilization and a Puritan (in effect, Bolshevik) opponent of it. Since the end of the last world war — when it formally threw off the Christian moral foundations of the last thousand years of European civilization by morally sanctioning “the destruction of residential areas and the mass killing of civilians as a routine method of warfare” — a new counter-civilization, an empire of liberty and chaos, has come to rule the world (even if during the 45 years of the Cold War the US encouraged the illusion that it was a bastion of Western values and Christianity). (See Desmond Fennell, The Postwestern Condition: Between Chaos and Civilization [1999]; Carl Schmitt, The Nomos of the Earth [1950/2003].)

Not just the devastated Germans and Italians, but all Europeans were subsequently integrated into the predatory empire of this counter-civilization — and subjected to its transvaluation of values (consumerism, permissiveness, abortion, the elimination of sex differences, the death of God, the end of art, anti-racism, and the “newspeak” whose inversions hold that “war is peace,” “dictatorship is democracy,” “ignorance is culture,” etc.). European elites have since become not just a comprador bourgeoisie, but home-grown exemplars of the moral and cultural void (the Thanatos principles) animating the American system. It is this system and its poisons that have made Europeans indifferent to their survival as a people and accounts for the increasing dysfunctionality of their established institutions — not the mass influx of Third World immigrants, who are a (prominent and very unpleasant) symptom, though not the source, of the reigning inversions.

Without acknowledging this, Faye can argue that America is only an adversary of Europe — a power that might exploit Europeans, but not one posing a life and death threat to their existence, like a true enemy. He forgets, accordingly, that America and America’s special friend, Britain, rather consciously destroyed historic Europe — that civilization born from the “medieval” alliance of Charlemagne and the Papacy. In the course of its anti-fascist crusade, the imperial leviathan headquartered in New York-Washington threw off the values and forms of Europe’s ancient and venerable Christian civilization for ones based on the sanctioning of mass murder.

Such premises have since inspired on-going campaigns “to abolish and demolish and derange” the world. It is this system that endangers white people today — for it wars on everything refusing to bend to its “liberal democratic” (i.e., money-driven) colonization, standardization, and demeaning of private and social life — as it breaks up traditional communities, isolates the individual within an increasingly indifferent “global world” dismissive of history, culture, and nature, rejects historically and religiously established sources of meaning, and leaves in their stead innumerable worthless consumer items and a whorl of fabricated electronic simulacra that situate all life within its hyperreal bubble. Even in an indirect or transitional way, Faye does not address this most eminent of the anti-European forces, offering no real alternative to the US/EU consumer paradise, whose present breakdown will be recuperated only by a resistance whose political vision transcends the underlying tenets of the existing one.

Conclusion

As an exercise, Faye’s Programme displays much of its author’s characteristic intelligence and creativity, and it stands as a respectable complement to the numerous interpretative and analytical works he has written on various aspects of European life over the last decade and a half — works written with verve and an imagination rich in imagery, lucidity, and urgency. As a brief programmatic redefinition of the French state system, his program is, admittedly, impressive. It is not, however, revolutionary. In some respects, it is not transitional. Above all, it does not get at the roots of the existing disorder: the satanic system that is presently destroying both Europe and the remnants of European civilization in America.

If Faye continues to speak for the rising forces of European identitarianism and populism, he will need to invent a better “game” than his program — for what seems most needed in this period of transition is a worldview premised on the overthrow of the existing nomos.

 


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dimanche, 22 juillet 2012

Sex & Derailment

Sex & Derailment

By Michael O'Meara

Guillaume Faye
Sexe et dévoiement
[Sex and Perversion — Ed.]

Éditions du Lore , 2011Four years after Guillaume Faye’s La Nouvelle question juive [3] (The New Jewish Question, 2007) alienated many of his admirers and apparently caused him to retreat from identitarian and Euro-nationalist arenas, his latest work signals a definite return, reminding us of why he remains one of the most creative thinkers opposing the system threatening the white race.

In this 400-page book, which is an essay and not a work of scholarship, Monsieur Faye’s main concern is the family, and the catastrophic impact the rising number of divorces and broken households is having on white demographic renewal. In linking family decline to its demographic (and civilizational) consequences, he situates his subject in terms of the larger social pathologies associated with the ‘inverted’ sexuality now disfiguring European life. These pathologies include the de-virilization and feminization of white men, the normalization of homosexuality, feminist androgyny, Third World colonization, spreading miscegenation, the loss of bio-anthropological norms (like the blond Jesus) – and all that comes with the denial of biological realities.

At the core of Faye’s argument is the contention that sexuality constitutes a people’s fundament – by conditioning its reproduction and ensuring its longevity. It is key, as such, to any analysis of contemporary society.

As the ethologist Konrad Lorenz and the physical anthropologist/social theorist Arnold Gehlen (both of whom have influenced Faye) have demonstrated, there is nothing automatic or spontaneous in human sexuality, as it is in other animals. Man’s body may be like those of the higher mammals, but it is also a cultural, plastic one with few governing instincts. Socioeconomic, ideological, and emotional imperatives accordingly play a major role in shaping human behavior, especially in the higher civilizations.

Given, moreover, that humanity is an abstraction, there can be no universal form of sexual behavior, and thus the sexuality, like everything else, of Europeans differs from that of non-Europeans. In the United States and Brazil, for example, the Negro’s sexual practices and family forms are still very unlike those of whites, despite ten generations in these European-founded countries. Every form of sexuality, Faye argues, stems from a specific bioculture (a historically-defined ‘stock’), which varies according to time and place. Human behavior is thus for him always the result of a native, in-born ethno-psychology, historically embodied (or, like now, distorted) in the cultural, religious, and ideological superstructures representing it.

The higher, more creative the culture the more sexuality also tends to depend on fragile, individual factors (desire, libido, self-interest), in contrast to less developed cultures, whose reproduction relies more on collective and instinctive factors. High cultures consequently reproduce less and low cultures more — though the latter suffers far greater infant mortality (an equilibrium upset only in the Twentieth century, when intervening high cultures reduced the infant mortality of the lower cultures, thereby setting off today’s explosive Third World birthrate).

Yet despite all these significant differences and despite the world’s great variety of family forms and sexual customs, the overwhelming majority of peoples and races nevertheless prohibit incest, pedophilia, racially mixed marriages, homosexual unions, and ‘unparented’ children.

By contravening many of these traditional prohibitions in recent decades, Western civilization has embarked on a process of ‘derailment’, evident in the profound social and mental pathologies that follow the inversion of ‘natural’ (i.e., historic or ancient) norms – inversions, not incidentally, that have been legitimized in the name of morality, freedom, equality, etc.

Sexe et dévoiement is an essay, then, about the practices and ideologies currently affecting European sexuality and about how these practices and ideologies are leading Europeans into a self-defeating struggle against nature – against their nature, upon which their biocivilization rests.

I. The Death of the Family

Since the Cultural Revolution of the 1960s, numerous forces, expressive of a nihilistic individualism and egalitarianism, have helped undermine the family, bringing it to the critical stage it’s reached today. Of these, the most destructive for Faye has been the ideology of libidinal love (championed by the so-called ‘sexual liberation’ movement of the period), which confused recreational sexuality with freedom, disconnected sex from reproduction, and treated traditional social/cultural norms as forms of oppression.

The Sixties’ ‘liberationists’, the first generation raised on TV, were linked to the New Left, which saw all restraint as oppressive and all individuals as equivalent. Sexual pleasure in this optic was good and natural and traditional sexual self-control bad and unnatural. Convinced that all things were possible, they sought to free desire from the ‘oppressive’ mores of what Faye calls the ‘bourgeois family’.

‘Sexual liberation’, he notes, was ‘Anglo-Saxon’ (i.e., American) in origin, motivated by a puritanism (in the Nineteenth-century Victorian sense of a prudery hostile to eroticism) that had shifted from one extreme to another. Originally, this middle-class, Protestant prudery favored a sexuality whose appetites were formally confined to the ‘bourgeois’ (i.e., the monogamous nuclear) family, which represented a compromise — between individual desire and familial interests — made for the sake of preserving the ‘line’ and rearing children to carry it on.

In the 1960s, when the Boomers came of age, the puritans passed to the other extreme, jettisoning their sexual ‘squeamishness’ and joining the movement to liberate the libido – which, in practice, meant abolishing conjugal fidelity, heterosexual dominance, ‘patriarchy’, and whatever taboos opposed the ‘rationally’ inspired, feel-good ‘philosophy’ of the liberationists. As the Sorbonne’s walls in ’68 proclaimed: ‘It’s prohibited to prohibit’. The ‘rights’ of individual desire and happiness would henceforth come at the expense of all the prohibitions that had formerly made the family viable. (Faye doesn’t mention it, but at the same time American-style consumerism was beginning to take hold in Western Europe, promoting a self-indulgent materialism that favored an egoistic pursuit of pleasure. It can even be argued, though again Faye does not, that the state, in league with the media and the corporate/financial powers, encouraged the permissive consumption of goods, as well as sex, for the sake of promoting the market’s expansion).

If Americans pioneered the ideology of sexual liberation, along with Gay Pride and the porn industry, and continue (at least through their Washingtonian Leviathan) to use these ideologies and practices to subvert non-liberal societies (which is why the Russians have rebuffed ‘international opinion’ to suppress Gay Pride Parades), a significant number of ‘ordinary’ white Americans nevertheless lack their elites’ anti-traditional sexual ideology. (Salt Lake City here prevails over Las Vegas).

Europeans, by contrast, have been qualitatively more influenced by the ‘libertine revolutionaries’, and Faye’s work speaks more to them than to Americans (though it seems likely that what Europeans are experiencing will sooner or later be experienced in the United States).

Against the backdrop, then, of Sixties-style sexual liberation, which sought to uproot the deepest traditions and authorities for the sake of certain permissive behaviors, personal sexual relations were reconceived as a strictly individualistic and libidinal ‘love’ – based on the belief that this highly inflated emotional state was too important to limit to conjugal monogamy. Marriages based on such impulsive sexual attractions and the passionate ‘hormonal tempests’ they set off have since, though, become the tomb not just of stable families, but increasingly of Europe herself.

For with this permissive cult of sexualized love that elevates the desires of the solitary individual above his communal and familial attachments (thereby lowering all standards), there comes another kind of short-sighted, feel-good liberal ideology that wars on social, national, and collective imperatives: the cult of human rights, whose flood of discourses and laws promoting brotherhood, anti-racism, and the love of the Other are synonymous with de-virilizition, ethnomaschoism, and the destruction of Europe’s historic identity.

Premised on the primacy of romantic love (impulsive on principle), sexual liberation has since destroyed any possibility of sustaining stable families. (Think of Tristan and Iseult). For its sexualization of love (this ‘casino of pleasure’) may be passionate, but it is also transient, ephemeral, and compelled by a good deal of egoism. Indeed, almost all sentiments grouped under the rubric of love, Faye contends, are egoistic and self-interested. Love in this sense is an investment from which one expects a return – one loves to be loved. A family of this kind is thus one inclined to allow superficial or immediate considerations to prevail over established, time-tested ones. Similarly, the rupture of such conjugal unions seems almost unavoidable, for once the pact of love is broken – and a strictly libidinal love always fades – the union dissolves.

The subsequent death of the ‘oppressive’ bourgeois family at the hands of the Sixties’ emancipation movements has since given rise to such civilizational achievements as unstable stepfamilies, no-fault divorce, teenage mothers, single-parent homes, abandoned children, a dissembling and atavistic ‘cult of the child’ (which esteems the child as a ‘noble savage’ rather than as a being in need of formation), parity with same-sex, unisex ideology, a variety of new sexual categories, and an increasingly isolated and frustrated individual delivered over almost entirely to his own caprices.

The egoism governing such love-based families produces few children and, to the degree even that married couples today want children, it seems to Faye less for the sake of sons and daughters to continue the ‘line’ and more for the sake of a baby to pamper – a sort of adjunct to their consumerism – something like a living toy. Given that the infant is idolized in this way, parents feel little responsibility for disciplining (or ‘parenting’) him.

Lacking self-control and an ethic of obedience, the child’s development is consequently compromised and his socialization neglected. These post-Sixties’ families also tend to be short lived, which means children are frequently traumatized by their broken homes, raised by single parents or in stepfamilies, where their intellectual development is stunted and their blood ties confused. However, without stable families and a sense of lineage, all sense of ethnic or national consciousness — or any understanding of why miscegenation and immigration ought to be opposed – are lost. The destruction of stable families, Faye surmises, bears directly on the present social-sexual chaos, the prevailing sense of meaninglessness, and the impending destruction of Europe’s racial stock.

Against the sexual liberationists, Faye upholds the model of the bourgeois family, which achieved a workable compromise between individual desire and social/familial preservation (despite the fact that it was, ultimately, the individualism of bourgeois society, in the form of sexual liberation, that eventually terminated this sort of family).

Though, perhaps, no longer sustainable, the stable couples the old bourgeois family structure supported succeeded in privileging familial and communal interests over amorous ones, doing so in ways that favored the long-term welfare of both the couple and the children. Conjugal love came, as a result, to be impressed with friendship, partnership, and habitual attachments, for the couple was defined not as a self-contained amorous symbiosis, but as the pillar of a larger family architecture. This made conjugal love moderate and balanced rather than passionate — sustained by habit, tenderness, interest, care of the children, and la douceur du foyer. Sexual desire remained, but in most cases declined in intensity or dissipated in time.

This family structure was also extraordinarily stable. It assured the lineage, raised properly-socialized children, respected women, and won the support of law and custom. There were, of course, compromises and even hypocrisies (as men, for instance, satisfied certain of their libidinal urgings in brothels), but in any case the family, the basic cell of society, was protected – even privileged.

The great irony of sexual liberation and its ensuing destruction of the bourgeois family is that it has obviously not brought greater happiness or freedom, but rather greater alienation and misery. In this spirit, the media now routinely (almost obsessively) sexualizes the universe, but sex has become more virtual than real: there’s more pornography, but fewer children. It seems hardly coincidental, then, that once the ‘rights’ of desire were emancipated, sex took on a different meaning, the family collapsed, sexual identity got increasingly confused, perversions and transgressions became greater and more serious. As everyone set off in pursuit of an illusive libidinal fulfillment, the population became correspondently more atomized, uprooted, and miscegenated. In France today, 30 percent of all adults are single and there are even reports of a new ‘asexuality’ – in reaction to the sexualization of everything.

There’s a civilization-destroying tragedy here: for once Europeans are deprived of their family lineage, they cease to transmit their cultural and genetic heritage and thus lose all sense of who they are. This is critical to everything else. As the historians Michael Mitterauer and Reinhard Sieder write: ‘The family is one of the most archaic forms of social community, and at all times men have used their family as a model for the formation of human societies’. The loss of family stability, and thus the family’s loss as society’s basic cell, Faye emphasizes, not only dissolves social relations, it brings disorder and makes all tyrannies possible, for once sexual emancipation helps turn society into a highly individualized, Balkanized mass, totalitarianism (not Soviet or Fascist, but US Progressive) becomes increasingly likely.

II. The Idolization of Homosexuality

Homophilia and feminism are the most important children of the cultural revolution. They share, as such, much of the same ideological baggage that denies biological realities and wars on the family, conforming in this way to the consumerist and homogenizing dictates of the post-Rooseveltian international order that’s dominated North America and Western Europe for the last half century or so.

In the late 1960s, when homosexuals began demanding legal equality, Faye claims they were fully within their rights. Homosexuality in his view is a genetic abnormality (affecting less than 5 percent of males) and thus an existential affliction; he thus doesn’t object to homosexuals practicing their sexuality within the privacy of their bedroom. What he finds objectionable is the confusion of private and public realms and the assertion of homophilia as a social norm. Worse, he claims that in much elite discourse, homosexuals have quickly gone from being pariahs to privileged beings, who now flaunt their alleged ‘superiority’ over heterosexuals, seen as old-fashion, outmoded, ridiculous – like the woman who centers her life on the home and the care of her children rather than on a career – and thus as something bizarre and implicitly opposed to liberal-style ‘emancipation’.

Faye, by no means a prude, contends that female homosexuality is considerably different from and less dysgenic than male homosexuality. Most lesbians, in his view, are bisexual, rather than purely homosexual, and for whatever reason have turned against men. This he sees as a reflection on men. Lesbianism also lacks the same negative civilizational consequence as male homosexuality. It rarely shocked traditional societies because women engaging in homosexual relations retained their femininity. Male homosexuality, by contrast, was considered socially abhorrent, for it violated the nature of masculinity, making men no longer ‘properly’ male and thus something mutant. (To those who invoke the ancient glories of Athens as a counter-argument, Faye, long-time Graeco-Latinist, says that in the period when a certain form of pederasty was tolerated, no adult Greek ever achieved respectability or standing in his community, if not married, devoted to the interests of his family and clan, and, above all, not ‘made of woman’ – i.e., penetrated).

Like feminism, homophilia holds that humans are bisexual at birth and (willfully or not) choose their individual sexual orientation – as if anatomical differences are insignificant and all humans are basically alike, a tabula rasa upon which they are to inscribe their self-chosen ‘destiny’. This view lacks any scientific credibility, to be sure (even if it is professed in our elite universities), and, like anti-racism, it resembles Lysenkoism in denying those biological realities incompatible with the reigning dogmas. (Facts, though, have rarely stood in the way of faith or ideology – or, in the secular Twentieth century, ideologies that have become religious faiths).

Even when assuming the mantle of its allegedly progressive and emancipatory pretensions, homophilia, like sexual liberation in general, is entirely self-centered and present-minded, promoting ‘lifestyles’ hostile to family formation and thus to white reproduction. Homophilia marches here hand in hand with anti-racism, denying the significance of biological differences and the imperatives of white reproduction.

This subversive ideology now even aspires to re-invent homosexuals as the flower of society — liberators preparing the way to joy, liberty, fraternity, tolerance, social well-being, good taste, etc. As vice is transformed into virtue, homosexuality allegedly introduces a new sense of play and gaiety to the one-dimensional society of sad, heterosexual males. Only, Faye insists, there’s nothing genuinely gay about the gays, for theirs is a condition of stress and disequilibrium. At odds with their own nature, homosexual sexuality is often a Calvary – and not because of social oppression, but because of those endogenous reasons (particularly their attraction to their own sex) that condemn them to dysgenic behaviors.

In its public display as Gay Pride, homophilia accordingly defines itself as narcissistic, exhibitionist, and infantile – revealing in these characteristics those traits that are perhaps specific to its condition. In any case, a community worthy of itself, Faye tells us, is founded on shared values, on achievements, on origins – but not a dysgenic sexual orientation.

III. Schizophrenic Feminism

The reigning egalitarianism is always extending itself, trying to force the real – in the realms of sexuality, individuality, demography (race), etc. — to conform to its tenets. The demand that women have the same legal rights and opportunities as men, Faye thinks, was entirely just – especially for Europeans  (and especially Celtic, Scandinavian, and Germanic Europeans), for their cultures have long respected the humanity of their women. Indeed, he considers legal equality the single great accomplishment of feminism. But once achieved, feminism has since been transformed into a utopian and delirious neo-egalitarianism that makes sexes, like races, equivalent and interchangeable. There is accordingly no such thing as ‘men’s work’ or ‘women’s work’. Human dignity and fullfilment is possible only in doing something that makes money. Faye, though, refuses to equate legal equality with natural equality, for such an ideological muddling denies obvious biological differences, offending both science and common sense.

The dogma that differences between men and women are simply cultural derives from a feminist behaviorism in which women are seen as potential men and femininity is treated as a social distortion. In Simone de Beauvoir’s formulation: One is not born a woman, one becomes one. Feminists, as such, affirm the equality and interchangeability of men and women, yet at the same time they reject femininity, which they consider something inferior and imposed. The feminist model is thus the man, and feminism’s New Woman is simply his ‘photocopy’. In endeavoring to suppress the specifically feminine in this way, feminism aims to masculinize women and feminize men in the image of its androgynous ideal – analogous to the anti-racist ideal of the métis (the mixed race or half-caste). This unisex ideology, in its extremism, characterizes the mother as a slave and the devoted wife as a fool. In practice, it even rejects the biological functions of the female body, aspiring to a masculinism that imitates men and seeks to emulate them socially, politically, and otherwise. Feminism in a word is anti-feminine – anti-mother and anti-family – and ultimately anti-reproduction.

Anatomical differences, however, have consequences. Male humans, like males of other species, always differ from females – given that their biological specification dictates specific behaviors. These human sexual differences may be influenced by culture and other factors. But they nevertheless exist, which means they inevitably affect mind and behavior – despite what the Correctorate wants us to believe.

Male superiority in worldly achievement – conceptual, mathematical, artistic, political, and otherwise — is often explained by female oppression, a notion Faye rejects, though he acknowledges that in many areas of contemporary life, for just or unjust reasons, women do suffer disadvantages – and in many non-white situations outright subjugation. Male physical strength may also enable men to dominate women. But generally, Faye sees a rough equality of intelligence between men and women. Their main differences, he contends, are psychological and characterological, for men tend to be more outwardly oriented than women. As such, they use their intelligence more in competition, innovation, and discovery, linked to the fact that they are usually more aggressive, more competitive, more vain and narcissistic than women — who, by contrast, are more inclined to be emotionally loyal, submissive, prudent, temperate, and far-sighted.

Men and women, though, are better viewed as organic complements, rather than as inferior or superior. From Homer to Cervantes to Mme. de Stäel, the image of women, their realms and their work, however diverse and complicated, have differed from that of men. Women may be able to handle most masculine tasks, but at the same time their disposition differs from men, especially in the realm of creativity.

This is critical for Faye. In all sectors of practical intelligence women perform as well as men – but not in their capacity for imaginative projection, which detaches and abstracts one’s self from contingent reality for the sake of imagining another. This holds in practically all areas: epic poetry, science, invention, religion, cuisine or design. It is not from female brains, he notes, that there have emerged submarines, space flight, philosophical systems, great political and economic theories, and the major scientific discoveries (Mme. Curie being the exception). Most of the great breakthroughs have in fact been made by men and it has had nothing to do with women being oppressed or repressed. Feminine dreams are simply not the same as masculine ones — which search the impossible, the risky, the unreal.

Akin, then, in spirit to homophilia, anti-racism, and Sixties-style sexual liberation, feminism’s rejection of biological realities and its effort to masculinize women end up not just distorting what it supposedly champions – women – it reveals the totally egoistic and present-oriented nature of its ideology, for it rejects women as mothers and thus rejects the reproduction of the race.

IV. Conclusion

Sexe et dévoiement treats a variety of other issues: Christian and Islamic views of sexuality; immigration and the different sexual practices it brings (some of which are extremely primitive and brutal); the necessary role of prostitution in society; and the effect the new bio-technologies are going to have on sexuality.

From the above discussion — of the family, homophilia, and feminism — the reader should already sense the direction Faye’s argument takes, as he relates individual sexuality to certain macro-changes now forcing European civilization off its rails. Because this is an especially illuminating perspective on the decline of the white race (linking demography, civilization, and sex) and one of which there seem too few – I think this lends special pertinence to his essay.

There are not a few historical and methodological criticisms, however, that could be made of Sexe et dévoiement, two of which I find especially dissatisfying. Like the European New Right as a whole, he tends to be overly simplistic in attributing to the secularization of certain Christian notions, like equality and love, the origins of the maladies he depicts. Similarly, he refuses to link cultural/ideological influences to social/economic developments (seeing their causal relationship as essentially one-way instead of dialectical), just as he fails to consider the negative effects that America’s imperial supremacy, with its post-European rules of behavior and its anti-Christian policies, have had on Europe in the last half century.

But after having said that — and after having reviewed [4] many of Guillaume Faye’s works over the last ten years, as well as having read a great many other books in the meantime that have made me more critical of aspects of his thought — I think whatever his ‘failings’, they pale in comparison to the light he sheds on the ethnocidal forces now bearing down on the white race.

American Renaissance, June 29, 2012, http://amren.com/features/2012/06/sex-and-derailment/ [5], revised July 6th

 


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

URL to article: http://www.counter-currents.com/2012/07/sex-and-derailment/

mardi, 17 juillet 2012

Deux nouvelles parutions aux éditions du Trident

Bonjour

Nous vous proposons aujourd’hui
deux nouvelles parutions aux éditions du Trident
 
"La Gaule avant César" par Camille Jullian
… la première page de l'Histoire de France
HTTP://editions-du-trident.fr/catalogue#gaule

"La Grande guerre de 1793"
… premier volume de "l'Histoire de la Vendée militaire" de Jacques Crétineau-Joly
HTTP: //editions-du-trident.fr/catalogue#vendee

17:47 Publié dans Livre | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : livre, vendee, 1793, revolution francaise, gaule, gaulois | |  del.icio.us | | Digg! Digg |  Facebook

jeudi, 12 juillet 2012

The Fourth Political Theory

 
Het boek wordt voorgesteld op 28 juli 2012 in Stockholm (voor Europa) en in Brazilië (voor het Amerikaanse continent).
 
 
Table of Contents:

A Note from the Editor
Foreword by Alain Soral
Introduction: To Be or Not to Be?

1. The Birth of the Concept
2. Dasein as an Actor
3. The Critique of Monotonic Processes
4. The Reversibility of Time
5. Global Transition and its Enemies
6. Conservatism and Postmodernity
7. ‘Civilisation’ as an Ideological Concept
8. The Transformation of the Left in the Twenty-first Century
9. Liberalism and Its Metamorphoses
10. The Ontology of the Future
11. The New Political Anthropology
12. Fourth Political Practice
13. Gender in the Fourth Political Theory
14. Against the Postmodern World
Appendix I: Political Post-Anthropology
Appendix II: The Metaphysics of Chaos

lundi, 09 juillet 2012

Augustin Cochin on the French Revolution

aaaacochin.jpg

From Salon to Guillotine
Augustin Cochin on the French Revolution

By F. Roger Devlin

Ex: http://www.counter-currents.com/

Augustin Cochin
Organizing the Revolution: Selections From Augustin Cochin [2]
Translated by Nancy Derr Polin with a Preface by Claude Polin
Rockford, Ill.: Chronicles Press, 2007

The Rockford Institute’s publication of Organizing the Revolution marks the first appearance in our language of an historian whose insights apply not only to the French Revolution but to much of modern politics as well.

Augustin Cochin (1876–1916) was born into a family that had distinguished itself for three generations in the antiliberal “Social Catholicism” movement. He studied at the Ecole des Chartes and began to specialize in the study of the Revolution in 1903. Drafted in 1914 and wounded four times, he continued his researches during periods of convalescence. But he always requested to be returned to the front, where he was killed on July 8, 1916 at the age of thirty-nine.

Cochin was a philosophical historian in an era peculiarly unable to appreciate that rare talent. He was trained in the supposedly “scientific” methods of research formalized in his day under the influence of positivism, and was in fact an irreproachably patient and thorough investigator of primary archives. Yet he never succumbed to the prevailing notion that facts and documents would tell their own story in the absence of a human historian’s empathy and imagination. He always bore in mind that the goal of historical research was a distinctive type of understanding.

Both his archival and his interpretive labors were dedicated to elucidating the development of Jacobinism, in which he (rightly) saw the central, defining feature of the French Revolution. François Furet wrote: “his approach to the problem of Jacobinism is so original that it has been either not understood or buried, or both.”[1]

Most of his work appeared only posthumously. His one finished book is a detailed study of the first phase of the Revolution as it played out in Brittany: it was published in 1925 by his collaborator Charles Charpentier. He had also prepared (with Charpentier) a complete collection of the decrees of the revolutionary government (August 23, 1793–July 27, 1794). His mother arranged for the publication of two volumes of theoretical writings: The Philosophical Societies and Modern Democracy (1921), a collection of lectures and articles; and The Revolution and Free Thought (1924), an unfinished work of interpretation. These met with reviews ranging from the hostile to the uncomprehending to the dismissive.

“Revisionist” historian François Furet led a revival of interest in Cochin during the late 1970s, making him the subject of a long and appreciative chapter in his important study Interpreting the French Revolution and putting him on a par with Tocqueville. Cochin’s two volumes of theoretical writings were reprinted shortly thereafter by Copernic, a French publisher associated with GRECE and the “nouvelle droit.”

The book under review consists of selections in English from these volumes. The editor and translator may be said to have succeeded in their announced aim: “to present his unfinished writings in a clear and coherent form.”

Between the death of the pioneering antirevolutionary historian Hippolyte Taine in 1893 and the rise of “revisionism” in the 1960s, study of the French Revolution was dominated by a series of Jacobin sympathizers: Aulard, Mathiez, Lefevre, Soboul. During the years Cochin was producing his work, much public attention was directed to polemical exchanges between Aulard, a devotee of Danton, and his former student Mathiez, who had become a disciple of Robespierre. Both men remained largely oblivious to the vast ocean of assumptions they shared.

Cochin published a critique of Aulard and his methods in 1909; an abridged version of this piece is included in the volume under review. Aulard’s principal theme was that the revolutionary government had been driven to act as it did by circumstance:

This argument [writes Cochin] tends to prove that the ideas and sentiments of the men of ’93 had nothing abnormal in themselves, and if their deeds shock us it is because we forget their perils, the circumstances; [and that] any man with common sense and a heart would have acted as they did in their place. Aulard allows this apology to include even the very last acts of the Terror. Thus we see that the Prussian invasion caused the massacre of the priests of the Abbey, the victories of la Rochejacquelein [in the Vendée uprising] caused the Girondins to be guillotined, [etc.]. In short, to read Aulard, the Revolutionary government appears a mere makeshift rudder in a storm, “a wartime expedient.” (p. 49)

Aulard had been strongly influenced by positivism, and believed that the most accurate historiography would result from staying as close as possible to documents of the period; he is said to have conducted more extensive archival research than any previous historian of the Revolution. But Cochin questioned whether such a return to the sources would necessarily produce truer history:

Mr. Aulard’s sources—minutes of meetings, official reports, newspapers, patriotic pamphlets—are written by patriots [i.e., revolutionaries], and mostly for the public. He was to find the argument of defense highlighted throughout these documents. In his hands he had a ready-made history of the Revolution, presenting—beside each of the acts of “the people,” from the September massacres to the law of Prairial—a ready-made explanation. And it is this history he has written. (p. 65)

aaaaacochinmeccannicca.gifIn fact, says Cochin, justification in terms of “public safety” or “self- defense” is an intrinsic characteristic of democratic governance, and quite independent of circumstance:

When the acts of a popular power attain a certain degree of arbitrariness and become oppressive, they are always presented as acts of self-defense and public safety. Public safety is the necessary fiction in democracy, as divine right is under an authoritarian regime. [The argument for defense] appeared with democracy itself. As early as July 28, 1789 [i.e., two weeks after the storming of the Bastille] one of the leaders of the party of freedom proposed to establish a search committee, later called “general safety,” that would be able to violate the privacy of letters and lock people up without hearing their defense. (pp. 62–63)

(Americans of the “War on Terror” era, take note.)

But in fact, says Cochin, the appeal to defense is nearly everywhere a post facto rationalization rather than a real motive:

Why were the priests persecuted at Auch? Because they were plotting, claims the “public voice.” Why were they not persecuted in Chartes? Because they behaved well there.

How often can we not turn this argument around?

Why did the people in Auch (the Jacobins, who controlled publicity) say the priests were plotting? Because the people (the Jacobins) were persecuting them. Why did no one say so in Chartes? Because they were left alone there.

In 1794 put a true Jacobin in Caen, and a moderate in Arras, and you could be sure by the next day that the aristocracy of Caen, peaceable up till then, would have “raised their haughty heads,” and in Arras they would go home. (p. 67)

In other words, Aulard’s “objective” method of staying close to contemporary documents does not scrape off a superfluous layer of interpretation and put us directly in touch with raw fact—it merely takes the self-understanding of the revolutionaries at face value, surely the most naïve style of interpretation imaginable. Cochin concludes his critique of Aulard with a backhanded compliment, calling him “a master of Jacobin orthodoxy. With him we are sure we have the ‘patriotic’ version. And for this reason his work will no doubt remain useful and consulted” (p. 74). Cochin could not have foreseen that the reading public would be subjected to another half century of the same thing, fitted out with ever more “original documentary research” and flavored with ever increasing doses of Marxism.

But rather than attending further to these methodological squabbles, let us consider how Cochin can help us understand the French Revolution and the “progressive” politics it continues to inspire.

It has always been easy for critics to rehearse the Revolution’s atrocities: the prison massacres, the suppression of the Vendée, the Law of Suspects, noyades and guillotines. The greatest atrocities of the 1790s from a strictly humanitarian point of view, however, occurred in Poland, and some of these were actually counter-revolutionary reprisals. The perennial fascination of the French Revolution lies not so much in the extent of its cruelties and injustices, which the Caligulas and Genghis Khans of history may occasionally have equaled, but in the sense that revolutionary tyranny was something different in kind, something uncanny and unprecedented. Tocqueville wrote of

something special about the sickness of the French Revolution which I sense without being able to describe. My spirit flags from the effort to gain a clear picture of this object and to find the means of describing it fairly. Independently of everything that is comprehensible in the French Revolution there is something that remains inexplicable.

Part of the weird quality of the Revolution was that it claimed, unlike Genghis and his ilk, to be massacring in the name of liberty, equality, and fraternity. But a deeper mystery which has fascinated even its enemies is the contrast between its vast size and force and the negligible ability of its apparent “leaders” to unleash or control it: the men do not measure up to the events. For Joseph de Maistre the explanation could only be the direct working of Divine Providence; none but the Almighty could have brought about so great a cataclysm by means of such contemptible characters. For Augustin Barruel it was proof of a vast, hidden conspiracy (his ideas have a good claim to constitute the world’s original “conspiracy theory”). Taine invoked a “Jacobin psychology” compounded of abstraction, fanaticism, and opportunism.

Cochin found all these notions of his antirevolutionary predecessors unsatisfying. Though Catholic by religion and family background, he quite properly never appeals to Divine Providence in his scholarly work to explain events (p. 71). He also saw that the revolutionaries were too fanatical and disciplined to be mere conspirators bent on plunder (pp. 56–58; 121–122; 154). Nor is an appeal to the psychology of the individual Jacobin useful as an explanation of the Revolution: this psychology is itself precisely what the historian must try to explain (pp. 60–61).

Cochin viewed Jacobinism not primarily as an ideology but as a form of society with its own inherent rules and constraints independent of the desires and intentions of its members. This central intuition—the importance of attending to the social formation in which revolutionary ideology and practice were elaborated as much as to ideology, events, or leaders themselves—distinguishes his work from all previous writing on the Revolution and was the guiding principle of his archival research. He even saw himself as a sociologist, and had an interest in Durkheim unusual for someone of his Catholic traditionalist background.

The term he employs for the type of association he is interested in is société de pensée, literally “thought-society,” but commonly translated “philosophical society.” He defines it as “an association founded without any other object than to elicit through discussion, to set by vote, to spread by correspondence—in a word, merely to express—the common opinion of its members. It is the organ of [public] opinion reduced to its function as an organ” (p. 139).

It is no trivial circumstance when such societies proliferate through the length and breadth of a large kingdom. Speaking generally, men are either born into associations (e.g., families, villages, nations) or form them in order to accomplish practical ends (e.g., trade unions, schools, armies). Why were associations of mere opinion thriving so luxuriously in France on the eve of the Revolution? Cochin does not really attempt to explain the origin of the phenomenon he analyzes, but a brief historical review may at least clarify for my readers the setting in which these unusual societies emerged.

About the middle of the seventeenth century, during the minority of Louis XIV, the French nobility staged a clumsy and disorganized revolt in an attempt to reverse the long decline of their political fortunes. At one point, the ten year old King had to flee for his life. When he came of age, Louis put a high priority upon ensuring that such a thing could never happen again. The means he chose was to buy the nobility off. They were relieved of the obligations traditionally connected with their ancestral estates and encouraged to reside in Versailles under his watchful eye; yet they retained full exemption from the ruinous taxation that he inflicted upon the rest of the kingdom. This succeeded in heading off further revolt, but also established a permanent, sizeable class of persons with a great deal of wealth, no social function, and nothing much to do with themselves.

The salon became the central institution of French life. Men and women of leisure met for gossip, dalliance, witty badinage, personal (not political) intrigue, and discussion of the latest books and plays and the events of the day. Refinement of taste and the social graces reached an unusual pitch. It was this cultivated leisure class which provided both setting and audience for the literary works of the grand siècle.

The common social currency of the age was talk: outside Jewish yeshivas, the world had probably never beheld a society with a higher ratio of talk to action. A small deed, such as Montgolfier’s ascent in a hot air balloon, could provide matter for three years of self-contented chatter in the salons.

Versailles was the epicenter of this world; Paris imitated Versailles; larger provincial cities imitated Paris. Eventually there was no town left in the realm without persons ambitious of imitating the manners of the Court and devoted to cultivating and discussing whatever had passed out of fashion in the capital two years earlier. Families of the rising middle class, as soon as they had means to enjoy a bit of leisure, aspired to become a part of salon society.

Toward the middle of the eighteenth century a shift in both subject matter and tone came over this world of elegant discourse. The traditional saloniste gave way to the philosophe, an armchair statesman who, despite his lack of real responsibilities, focused on public affairs and took himself and his talk with extreme seriousness. In Cochin’s words: “mockery replaced gaiety, and politics pleasure; the game became a career, the festivity a ceremony, the clique the Republic of Letters” (p. 38). Excluding men of leisure from participation in public life, as Louis XIV and his successors had done, failed to extinguish ambition from their hearts. Perhaps in part by way of compensation, the philosophes gradually

created an ideal republic alongside and in the image of the real one, with its own constitution, its magistrates, its common people, its honors and its battles. There they studied the same problems—political, economic, etc.—and there they discussed agriculture, art, ethics, law, etc. There they debated the issues of the day and judged the officeholders. In short, this little State was the exact image of the larger one with only one difference—it was not real. Its citizens had neither direct interest nor responsible involvement in the affairs they discussed. Their decrees were only wishes, their battles conversations, their studies games. It was the city of thought. That was its essential characteristic, the one both initiates and outsiders forgot first, because it went without saying. (pp. 123–24)

Part of the point of a philosophical society was this very seclusion from reality. Men from various walks of life—clergymen, officers, bankers—could forget their daily concerns and normal social identities to converse as equals in an imaginary world of “free thought”: free, that is, from attachments, obligations, responsibilities, and any possibility of failure.

In the years leading up to the Revolution, countless such organizations vied for followers and influence: Amis Réunis, Philalèthes, Chevaliers Bienfaisants, Amis de la Verité, several species of Freemasons, academies, literary and patriotic societies, schools, cultural associations and even agricultural societies—all barely dissimulating the same utopian political spirit (“philosophy”) behind official pretenses of knowledge, charity, or pleasure. They “were all more or less connected to one another and associated with those in Paris. Constant debates, elections, delegations, correspondence, and intrigue took place in their midst, and a veritable public life developed through them” (p. 124).

Because of the speculative character of the whole enterprise, the philosophes’ ideas could not be verified through action. Consequently, the societies developed criteria of their own, independent of the standards of validity that applied in the world outside:

Whereas in the real world the arbiter of any notion is practical testing and its goal what it actually achieves, in this world the arbiter is the opinion of others and its aim their approval. That is real which others see, that true which they say, that good of which they approve. Thus the natural order is reversed: opinion here is the cause and not, as in real life, the effect. (p. 39)

Many matters of deepest concern to ordinary men naturally got left out of discussion: “You know how difficult it is in mere conversation to mention faith or feeling,” remarks Cochin (p. 40; cf. p. 145). The long chains of reasoning at once complex and systematic which mark genuine philosophy—and are produced by the stubborn and usually solitary labors of exceptional men—also have no chance of success in a society of philosophes (p. 143). Instead, a premium gets placed on what can be easily expressed and communicated, which produces a lowest-common-denominator effect (p. 141).

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The philosophes made a virtue of viewing the world surrounding them objectively and disinterestedly. Cochin finds an important clue to this mentality in a stock character of eighteenth-century literature: the “ingenuous man.” Montesquieu invented him as a vehicle for satire in the Persian Letters: an emissary from the King of Persia sending witty letters home describing the queer customs of Frenchmen. The idea caught on and eventually became a new ideal for every enlightened mind to aspire to. Cochin calls it “philosophical savagery”:

Imagine an eighteenth-century Frenchman who possesses all the material attainments of the civilization of his time—cultivation, education, knowledge, and taste—but without any of the real well-springs, the instincts and beliefs that have created and breathed life into all this, that have given their reason for these customs and their use for these resources. Drop him into this world of which he possesses everything except the essential, the spirit, and he will see and know everything but understand nothing. Everything shocks him. Everything appears illogical and ridiculous to him. It is even by this incomprehension that intelligence is measured among savages. (p. 43; cf. p. 148)

In other words, the eighteenth-century philosophes were the original “deracinated intellectuals.” They rejected as “superstitions” and “prejudices” the core beliefs and practices of the surrounding society, the end result of a long process of refining and testing by men through countless generations of practical endeavor. In effect, they created in France what a contributor to this journal has termed a “culture of critique”—an intellectual milieu marked by hostility to the life of the nation in which its participants were living. (It would be difficult, however, to argue a significant sociobiological basis in the French version.)

This gradual withdrawal from the real world is what historians refer to as the development of the Enlightenment. Cochin calls it an “automatic purging” or “fermentation.” It is not a rational progression like the stages in an argument, however much the philosophes may have spoken of their devotion to “Reason”; it is a mechanical process which consists of “eliminating the real world in the mind instead of reducing the unintelligible in the object” (p. 42). Each stage produces a more rarified doctrine and human type, just as each elevation on a mountain slope produces its own kind of vegetation. The end result is the world’s original “herd of independent minds,” a phenomenon which would have horrified even men such as Montesquieu and Voltaire who had characterized the first societies.

It is interesting to note that, like our own multiculturalists, many of the philosophes attempted to compensate for their estrangement from the living traditions of French civilization by a fascination with foreign laws and customs. Cochin aptly compares civilization to a living plant which slowly grows “in the bedrock of experience under the rays of faith,” and likens this sort of philosophe to a child mindlessly plucking the blossoms from every plant he comes across in order to decorate his own sandbox (pp. 43–44).

Accompanying the natural “fermentation” of enlightened doctrine, a process of selection also occurs in the membership of the societies. Certain men are simply more suited to the sort of empty talking that goes on there:

young men because of their age; men of law, letters or discourse because of their profession; the skeptics because of their convictions; the vain because of their temperament; the superficial because of their [poor] education. These people take to it and profit by it, for it leads to a career that the world here below does not offer them, a world in which their deficiencies become strengths. On the other hand, true, sincere minds with a penchant for the concrete, for efficacy rather than opinion, find themselves disoriented and gradually drift away. (pp. 40–41)

In a word, the glib drive out the wise.

The societies gradually acquired an openly partisan character: whoever agreed with their views, however stupid, was considered “enlightened.” By 1776, d’Alembert acknowledged this frankly, writing to Frederick the Great: “We are doing what we can to fill the vacant positions in the Académie française in the manner of the banquet of the master of the household in the Gospel: with the crippled and lame men of literature” (p. 35). Mediocrities such as Mably, Helvétius, d’Holbach, Condorcet, and Raynal, whose works Cochin calls “deserts of insipid prose” were accounted ornaments of their age. The philosophical societies functioned like hired clappers making a success of a bad play (p. 46).

On the other hand, all who did not belong to the “philosophical” party were subjected to a “dry terror”:

Prior to the bloody Terror of ’93, in the Republic of Letters there was, from 1765 to 1780, a dry terror of which the Encyclopedia was the Committee of Public Safety and d’Alembert was the Robespierre. It mowed down reputations as the other chopped off heads: its guillotine was defamation, “infamy” as it was then called: The term, originating with Voltaire [écrasez l’infâme!], was used in the provincial societies with legal precision. “To brand with infamy” was a well-defined operation consisting of investigation, discussion, judgment, and finally execution, which meant the public sentence of “contempt.” (p. 36; cf. p. 123)

Having said something of the thought and behavioral tendencies of the philosophes, let us turn to the manner in which their societies were constituted—which, as we have noted, Cochin considered the essential point. We shall find that they possess in effect two constitutions. One is the original and ostensible arrangement, which our author characterizes as “the democratic principle itself, in its principle and purity” (p. 137). But another pattern of governance gradually takes shape within them, hidden from most of the members themselves. This second, unacknowledged constitution is what allows the societies to operate effectively, even as it contradicts the original “democratic” ideal.

The ostensible form of the philosophical society is direct democracy. All members are free and equal; no one is forced to yield to anyone else; no one speaks on behalf of anyone else; everyone’s will is accomplished. Rousseau developed the principles of such a society in his Social Contract. He was less concerned with the glaringly obvious practical difficulties of such an arrangement than with the question of legitimacy. He did not ask: “How could perfect democracy function and endure in the real word?” but rather: “What must a society whose aim is the common good do to be founded lawfully?”

Accordingly, Rousseau spoke dismissively of the representative institutions of Britain, so admired by Montesquieu and Voltaire. The British, he said, are free only when casting their ballots; during the entire time between elections there are as enslaved as the subjects of the Great Turk. Sovereignty by its very nature cannot be delegated, he declared; the People, to whom it rightfully belongs, must exercise it both directly and continuously. From this notion of a free and egalitarian society acting in concert emerges a new conception of law not as a fixed principle but as the general will of the members at a given moment.

Rousseau explicitly states that the general will does not mean the will of the majority as determined by vote; voting he speaks of slightingly as an “empirical means.” The general will must be unanimous. If the merely “empirical” wills of men are in conflict, then the general will—their “true” will—must lie hidden somewhere. Where is it to be found? Who will determine what it is, and how?

At this critical point in the argument, where explicitness and clarity are most indispensable, Rousseau turns coy and vague: the general will is “in conformity with principles”; it “only exists virtually in the conscience or imagination of ‘free men,’ ‘patriots.’” Cochin calls this “the idea of a legitimate people—very similar to that of a legitimate prince. For the regime’s doctrinaires, the people is an ideal being” (p. 158).

There is a strand of thought about the French Revolution that might be called the “Ideas-Have-Consequences School.” It casts Rousseau in the role of a mastermind who elaborated all the ideas that less important men such as Robespierre merely carried out. Such is not Cochin’s position. In his view, the analogies between the speculations of the Social Contract and Revolutionary practice arise not from one having caused or inspired the other, but from both being based upon the philosophical societies.

Rousseau’s model, in other words, was neither Rome nor Sparta nor Geneva nor any phantom of his own “idyllic imagination”—he was describing, in a somewhat idealized form, the philosophical societies of his day. He treated these recent and unusual social formations as the archetype of all legitimate human association (cf. pp. 127, 155). As such a description—but not as a blueprint for the Terror—the Social Contract may be profitably read by students of the Revolution.

Indeed, if we look closely at the nature and purpose of a philosophical society, some of Rousseau’s most extravagant assertions become intelligible and even plausible. Consider unanimity, for example. The society is, let us recall, “an association founded to elicit through discussion [and] set by vote the common opinion of its members.” In other words, rather than coming together because they agree upon anything, the philosophes come together precisely in order to reach agreement, to resolve upon some common opinion. The society values union itself more highly than any objective principle of union. Hence, they might reasonably think of themselves as an organization free of disagreement.

Due to its unreal character, furthermore, a philosophical society is not torn by conflicts of interest. It demands no sacrifice—nor even effort—from its members. So they can all afford to be entirely “public spirited.” Corruption—the misuse of a public trust for private ends—is a constant danger in any real polity. But since the society’s speculations are not of this world, each philosophe is an “Incorruptible”:

One takes no personal interest in theory. So long as there is an ideal to define rather than a task to accomplish, personal interest, selfishness, is out of the question. [This accounts for] the democrats’ surprising faith in the virtue of mankind. Any philosophical society is a society of virtuous, generous people subordinating political motives to the general good. We have turned our back on the real world. But ignoring the world does not mean conquering it. (p. 155)

(This pattern of thinking explains why leftists even today are wont to contrast their own “idealism” with the “selfish” activities of businessmen guided by the profit motive.)

We have already mentioned that the more glib or assiduous attendees of a philosophical society naturally begin exercising an informal ascendancy over other members: in the course of time, this evolves into a standing but unacknowledged system of oligarchic governance:

Out of one hundred registered members, fewer than five are active, and these are the masters of the society. [This group] is composed of the most enthusiastic and least scrupulous members. They are the ones who choose the new members, appoint the board of directors, make the motions, guide the voting. Every time the society meets, these people have met in the morning, contacted their friends, established their plan, given their orders, stirred up the unenthusiastic, brought pressure to bear upon the reticent. They have subdued the board, removed the troublemakers, set the agenda and the date. Of course, discussion is free, but the risk in this freedom minimal and the “sovereign’s” opposition little to be feared. The “general will” is free—like a locomotive on its tracks. (pp. 172–73)

 Cochin draws here upon James Bryce’s American Commonwealth and Moisey Ostrogorski’s Democracy and the Organization of Political Parties. Bryce and Ostrogorski studied the workings of Anglo-American political machines such as New York’s Tammany Hall and Joseph Chamberlain’s Birmingham Caucus. Cochin considered such organizations (plausibly, from what I can tell) to be authentic descendants of the French philosophical and revolutionary societies. He thought it possible, with due circumspection, to apply insights gained from studying these later political machines to previously misunderstand aspects of the Revolution.

One book with which Cochin seems unfortunately not to have been familiar is Robert Michels’ Political Parties: A Sociological Study of the Oligarchical Tendencies of Modern Democracy, published in French translation only in 1914. But he anticipated rather fully Michels’ “iron law of oligarchy,” writing, for example, that “every egalitarian society fatally finds itself, after a certain amount of time, in the hands of a few men; this is just the way things are” (p. 174). Cochin was working independently toward conclusions notably similar to those of Michels and Gaetano Mosca, the pioneering Italian political sociologists whom James Burnham called “the Machiavellians.” The significance of his work extends far beyond that of its immediate subject, the French Revolution.

The essential operation of a democratic political machine consists of just two steps, continually repeated: the preliminary decision and the establishment of conformity.

First, the ringleaders at the center decide upon some measure. They prompt the next innermost circles, whose members pass the message along until it reaches the machine’s operatives in the outermost local societies made up of poorly informed people. All this takes place unofficially and in secrecy (p. 179).

Then the local operatives ingenuously “make a motion” in their societies, which is really the ringleaders’ proposal without a word changed. The motion passes—principally through the passivity (Cochin writes “inertia”) of the average member. The local society’s resolution, which is now binding upon all its members, is with great fanfare transmitted back towards the center.

The central society is deluged with identical “resolutions” from dozens of local societies simultaneously. It hastens to endorse and ratify these as “the will of the nation.” The original measure now becomes binding upon everyone, though the majority of members have no idea what has taken place. Although really a kind of political ventriloquism by the ringleaders, the public opinion thus orchestrated “reveals a continuity, cohesion and vigor that stuns the enemies of Jacobinism” (p. 180).

In his study of the beginnings of the Revolution in Brittany, Cochin found sudden reversals of popular opinion which the likes of Monsieur Aulard would have taken at face value, but which become intelligible once viewed in the light of the democratic mechanism:

On All Saints’ Day, 1789, a pamphlet naïvely declared that not a single inhabitant imagined doing away with the privileged orders and obtaining individual suffrage, but by Christmas hundreds of the common people’s petitions were clamoring for individual suffrage or death. What was the origin of this sudden discovery that people had been living in shame and slavery for the past thousand years? Why was there this imperious, immediate need for a reform which could not wait a minute longer?

Such abrupt reversals are sufficient in themselves to detect the operation of a machine. (p. 179)

The basic democratic two-step is supplemented with a bevy of techniques for confusing the mass of voters, discouraging them from organizing opposition, and increasing their passivity and pliability: these techniques include constant voting about everything—trivial as well as important; voting late at night, by surprise, or in multiple polling places; extending the suffrage to everyone: foreigners, women, criminals; and voting by acclamation to submerge independent voices (pp. 182–83). If all else fails, troublemakers can be purged from the society by ballot:

This regime is partial to people with all sorts of defects, failures, malcontents, the dregs of humanity, anyone who cares for nothing and finds his place nowhere. There must not be religious people among the voters, for faith makes one conscious and independent. [The ideal citizen lacks] any feeling that might oppose the machine’s suggestions; hence also the preference for foreigners, the haste in naturalizing them. (pp. 186–87)

(I bite my lip not to get lost in the contemporary applications.)

The extraordinary point of Cochin’s account is that none of these basic techniques were pioneered by the revolutionaries themselves; they had all been developed in the philosophical societies before the Revolution began. The Freemasons, for example, had a term for their style of internal governance: the “Royal Art.” “Study the social crisis from which the Grand Lodge [of Paris Freemasons] was born between 1773 and 1780,” says Cochin, “and you will find the whole mechanism of a Revolutionary purge” (p. 61).

Secrecy is essential to the functioning of this system; the ordinary members remain “free,” meaning they do not consciously obey any authority, but order and unity are maintained by a combination of secret manipulation and passivity. Cochin relates “with what energy the Grand Lodge refused to register its Bulletin with the National Library” (p. 176). And, of course, the Freemasons and similar organizations made great ado over refusing to divulge the precise nature of their activities to outsiders, with initiates binding themselves by terrifying oaths to guard the sacred trust committed to them. Much of these societies’ appeal lay precisely in the natural pleasure men feel at being “in” on a secret of any sort.

In order to clarify Cochin’s ideas, it might be useful to contrast them at this point with those of the Abbé Barruel, especially as they have been confounded by superficial or dishonest leftist commentators (“No need to read that reactionary Cochin! He only rehashes Barruel’s conspiracy thesis”).

Father Barruel was a French Jesuit living in exile in London when he published his Memoirs Illustrating the History of Jacobinism in 1797. He inferred from the notorious secretiveness of the Freemasons and similar groups that they must have been plotting for many years the horrors revealed to common sight after 1789—conspiring to abolish monarchy, religion, social hierarchy, and property in order to hold sway over the ruins of Christendom.

Cochin was undoubtedly thinking of Barruel and his followers when he laments that

thus far, in the lives of these societies, people have only sought the melodrama—rites, mystery, disguises, plots—which means they have strayed into a labyrinth of obscure anecdotes, to the detriment of the true history, which is very clear. Indeed the interest in the phenomenon in question is not in the Masonic bric-a-brac, but in the fact that in the bosom of the nation the Masons instituted a small state governed by its own rules. (p. 137)

For our author, let us recall, a société de pensée such as the Masonic order has inherent constraints independent of the desires or intentions of the members. Secrecy—of the ringleaders in relation to the common members, and of the membership to outsiders—is one of these necessary aspects of its functioning, not a way of concealing criminal intentions. In other words, the Masons were not consciously “plotting” the Terror of ’93 years in advance; the Terror was, however, an unintended but natural outcome of the attempt to apply a version of the Mason’s “Royal Art” to the government of an entire nation.

Moreover, writes Cochin, the peculiar fanaticism and force of the Revolution cannot be explained by a conspiracy theory. Authors like Barruel would reduce the Revolution to “a vast looting operation”:

But how can this enthusiasm, this profusion of noble words, these bursts of generosity or fits of rage be only lies and play-acting? Could the Revolutionary party be reduced to an enormous plot in which each person would only be thinking [and] acting for himself while accepting an iron discipline? Personal interest has neither such perseverance nor such abnegation. Throughout history there have been schemers and egoists, but there have only been revolutionaries for the past one hundred fifty years. (pp. 121–22)

And finally, let us note, Cochin included academic and literary Societies, cultural associations, and schools as sociétés de pensée. Many of these organizations did not even make the outward fuss over secrecy and initiation that the Masons did.

 

By his own admission, Cochin has nothing to tell us about the causes of the Revolution’s outbreak:

I am not saying that in the movement of 1789 there were not real causes—[e.g.,] a bad fiscal regime that exacted very little, but in the most irritating and unfair manner—I am just saying these real causes are not my subject. Moreover, though they may have contributed to the Revolution of 1789, they did not contribute to the Revolutions of August 10 [1792, abolition of the monarchy] or May 31 [1793, purge of the Girondins]. (p. 125)

With these words, he turns his back upon the entire Marxist “class struggle” approach to understanding the Revolution, which was the fundamental presupposition of much twentieth-century research.

The true beginning of the Revolution on Cochin’s account was the announcement in August 1788 that the Estates General would be convoked for May 1789, for this was the occasion when the men of the societies first sprang into action to direct a real political undertaking. With his collaborator in archival work, Charpentier, he conducted extensive research into this early stage of the Revolution in Brittany and Burgundy, trying to explain not why it took place but how it developed. This material is omitted from the present volume of translations; I shall cite instead from Furet’s summary and discussion in Interpreting the French Revolution:

In Burgundy in the autumn of 1788, political activity was exclusively engineered by a small group of men in Dijon who drafted a “patriotic” platform calling for the doubling of the Third Estate, voting by head, and the exclusion of ennobled commoners and seigneurial dues collectors from the assemblies of the Third Estate. Their next step was the systematic takeover of the town’s corporate bodies. First came the avocats’ corporation where the group’s cronies were most numerous; then the example of that group was used to win over other wavering or apathetic groups: the lower echelons of the magistrature, the physicians, the trade guilds. Finally the town hall capitulated, thanks to one of the aldermen and pressure from a group of “zealous citizens.” In the end, the platform appeared as the freely expressed will of the Third Estate of Dijon. Promoted by the usurped authority of the Dijon town council, it then reached the other towns of the province.[2]

. . . where the same comedy was acted out, only with less trouble since the platform now apparently enjoyed the endorsement of the provincial capital. Cochin calls this the “snowballing method” (p. 84).

An opposition did form in early December: a group of nineteen noblemen which grew to fifty. But the remarkable fact is that the opponents of the egalitarian platform made no use of the traditional institutions or assemblies of the nobility; these were simply forgotten or viewed as irrelevant. Instead, the nobles patterned their procedures on those of the rival group: they thought and acted as the “right wing” of the revolutionary party itself. Both groups submitted in advance to arbitration by democratic legitimacy. The episode, therefore, marked not a parting of the ways between the supporters of the old regime and adherents of the new one, but the first of the revolutionary purges. Playing by its enemies’ rules, the opposition was defeated by mid-December.[3]

In Brittany an analogous split occurred in September and October rather than December. The traditional corporate bodies and the philosophical societies involved had different names. The final purge of the nobles was not carried out until January 1789. The storyline, however, was essentially the same. [4]  La Révolution n’a pas de patrie (p. 131).

The regulations for elections to the Estates General were finally announced on January 24, 1789. As we shall see, they provided the perfect field of action for the societies’ machinations.

The Estates General of France originated in the fourteenth century, and were summoned by the King rather than elected. The first two estates consisted of the most important ecclesiastical and lay lords of the realm, respectively. The third estate consisted not of the “commoners,” as usually thought, but of the citizens of certain privileged towns which enjoyed a direct relation with the King through a royal charter (i.e., they were not under the authority of any feudal lord). The selection of notables from this estate may have involved election, although based upon a very restricted franchise.

In the Estates General of those days, the King was addressing

the nation with its established order and framework, with its various hierarchies, its natural subdivisions, its current leaders, whatever the nature or origin of their authority. The king acknowledged in the nation an active, positive role that our democracies would not think of granting to the electoral masses. This nation was capable of initiative. Representatives with a general mandate—professional politicians serving as necessary intermediaries between the King and the nation—were unheard of. (pp. 97–98)

Cochin opposes to this older “French conception” the “English and parliamentary conception of a people of electors”:

A people made up of electors is no longer capable of initiative; at most, it is capable of assent. It can choose between two or three platforms, two or three candidates, but it can no longer draft proposals or appoint men. Professional politicians must present the people with proposals and men. This is the role of parties, indispensable in such a regime. (p. 98)

In 1789, the deputies were elected to the States General on a nearly universal franchise, but—in accordance with the older French tradition—parties and formal candidacies were forbidden: “a candidate would have been called a schemer, and a party a cabal” (p. 99).

The result was that the “electors were placed not in a situation of freedom, but in a void”:

The effect was marvelous: imagine several hundred peasants, unknown to each other, some having traveled twenty or thirty leagues, confined in the nave of a church, and requested to draft a paper on the reform of the realm within the week, and to appoint twenty or thirty deputies. There were ludicrous incidents: at Nantes, for example, where the peasants demanded the names of the assembly’s members be printed. Most could not have cited ten of them, and they had to appoint twenty-five deputies.

Now, what actually happened? Everywhere the job was accomplished with ease. The lists of grievances were drafted and the deputies appointed as if by enchantment. This was because alongside the real people who could not respond there was another people who spoke and appointed for them. (p. 100)

These were, of course, the men of the societies. They exploited the natural confusion and ignorance of the electorate to the hilt to obtain delegates according to their wishes. “From the start, the societies ran the electoral assemblies, scheming and meddling on the pretext of excluding traitors that they were the only ones to designate” (p. 153).

“Excluding”—that is the key word:

The society was not in a position to have its men nominated directly [parties being forbidden], so it had only one choice: have all the other candidates excluded. The people, it was said, had born enemies that they must not take as their defenders. These were the men who lost by the people’s enfranchisement, i.e., the privileged men first, but also the ones who worked for them: officers of justice, tax collectors, officials of any sort. (p. 104)

This raised an outcry, for it would have eliminated nearly everyone competent to represent the Third Estate. In fact, the strict application of the principle would have excluded most members of the societies themselves. But pretexts were found for excepting them from the exclusion: the member’s “patriotism” and “virtue” was vouched for by the societies, which “could afford to do this without being accused of partiality, for no one on the outside would have the desire, or even the means, to protest” (p. 104)—the effect of mass inertia, once again.

Having established the “social mechanism” of the revolution, Cochin did not do any detailed research on the events of the following four years (May 1789–June 1793), full of interest as these are for the narrative historian. Purge succeeded purge: Monarchiens, Feuillants, Girondins. Yet none of the actors seemed to grasp what was going on:

Was there a single revolutionary team that did not attempt to halt this force, after using it against the preceding team, and that did not at that very moment find itself “purged” automatically? It was always the same naïve amazement when the tidal wave reached them: “But it’s with me that the good Revolution stops! The people, that’s me! Freedom here, anarchy beyond!” (p. 57)

During this period, a series of elective assemblies crowned the official representative government of France: first the Constituent Assembly, then the Legislative Assembly, and finally the Convention. Hovering about them and partly overlapping with their membership were various private and exclusive clubs, a continuation of the pre-Revolutionary philosophical societies. Through a gradual process of gaining the affiliation of provincial societies, killing off rivals in the capital, and purging itself and its daughters, one of these revolutionary clubs acquired by June 1793 an unrivalled dominance. Modestly formed in 1789 as the Breton Circle, later renamed the Friends of the Constitution, it finally established its headquarters in a disused Jacobin Convent and became known as the Jacobin Club:

Opposite the Convention, the representative regime of popular sovereignty, thus arises the amorphous regime of the sovereign people, acting and governing on its own. “The sovereign is directly in the popular societies,” say the Jacobins. This is where the sovereign people reside, speak, and act. The people in the street will only be solicited for the hard jobs and the executions.

[The popular societies] functioned continuously, ceaselessly watching and correcting the legal authorities. Later they added surveillance committees to each assembly. The Jacobins thoroughly lectured, browbeat, and purged the Convention in the name of the sovereign people, until it finally adjourned the Convention’s power. (p. 153)

Incredibly, to the very end of the Terror, the Jacobins had no legal standing; they remained officially a private club. “The Jacobin Society at the height of its power in the spring of 1794, when it was directing the Convention and governing France, had only one fear: that it would be ‘incorporated’—that it would be ‘acknowledged’ to have authority” (p. 176). There is nothing the strict democrat fears more than the responsibility associated with public authority.

The Jacobins were proud that they did not represent anyone. Their principle was direct democracy, and their operative assumption was that they were “the people.” “I am not the people’s defender,” said Robespierre; “I am a member of the people; I have never been anything else” (p. 57; cf. p. 154). He expressed bafflement when he found himself, like any powerful man, besieged by petitioners.

Of course, such “direct democracy” involves a social fiction obvious to outsiders. To the adherent “the word people means the ‘hard core’ minority, freedom means the minority’s tyranny, equality its privileges, and truth its opinion,” explains our author; “it is even in this reversal of the meaning of words that the adherent’s initiation consists” (p. 138).

But by the summer of 1793 and for the following twelve months, the Jacobins had the power to make it stick. Indeed, theirs was the most stable government France had during the entire revolutionary decade. It amounted to a second Revolution, as momentous as that of 1789. The purge of the Girondins (May 31–June 2) cleared the way for it, but the key act which constituted the new regime, in Cochin’s view, was the levée en masse of August 23, 1793:

[This decree] made all French citizens, body and soul, subject to standing requisition. This was the essential act of which the Terror’s laws would merely be the development, and the revolutionary government the means. Serfs under the King in ’89, legally emancipated in ’91, the people become the masters in ’93. In governing themselves, they do away with the public freedoms that were merely guarantees for them to use against those who governed them. Hence the right to vote is suspended, since the people reign; the right to defend oneself, since the people judge; the freedom of the press, since the people write; and the freedom of expression, since the people speak. (p. 77)

An absurd series of unenforceable economic decrees began pouring out of Paris—price ceilings, requisitions, and so forth. But then, mirabile dictu, it turned out that the decrees needed no enforcement by the center:

Every violation of these laws not only benefits the guilty party but burdens the innocent one. When a price ceiling is poorly applied in one district and products are sold more expensively, provisions pour in from neighboring districts, where shortages increase accordingly. It is the same for general requisitions, censuses, distributions: fraud in one place increases the burden for another. The nature of things makes every citizen the natural enemy and overseer of his neighbor. All these laws have the same characteristic: binding the citizens materially to one another, the laws divide them morally.

Now public force to uphold the law becomes superfluous. This is because every district, panic-stricken by famine, organizes its own raids on its neighbors in order to enforce the laws on provisions; the government has nothing to do but adopt a laissez-faire attitude. By March 1794 the Committee of Public Safety even starts to have one district’s grain inventoried by another.

This peculiar power, pitting one village against another, one district against another, maintained through universal division the unity that the old order founded on the union of everyone: universal hatred has its equilibrium as love has its harmony. (pp. 230–32; cf. p. 91)

 The societies were, indeed, never more numerous, nor better attended, than during this period. People sought refuge in them as the only places they could be free from arbitrary arrest or requisitioning (p. 80; cf. p. 227). But the true believers were made uneasy rather than pleased by this development. On February 5, 1794, Robespierre gave his notorious speech on Virtue, declaring: “Virtue is in the minority on earth.” In effect, he was acknowledging that “the people” were really only a tiny fraction of the nation. During the months that ensued:

there was no talk in the Societies but of purges and exclusions. Then it was that the mother society, imitated as usual by most of her offspring, refused the affiliation of societies founded since May 31. Jacobin nobility became exclusive; Jacobin piety went from external mission to internal effort on itself. At that time it was agreed that a society of many members could not be a zealous society. The agents from Tournan sent to purge the club of Ozouer-la-Ferrière made no other reproach: the club members were too numerous for the club to be pure. (p. 56)

Couthon wrote from Lyon requesting “40 good, wise, honest republicans, a colony of patriots in this foreign land where patriots are in such an appalling minority.” Similar supplications came from Marseilles, Grenoble, Besançon; from Troy, where there were less than twenty patriots; and from Strasbourg, where there were said to be fewer than four—contending against 6,000 aristocrats!

The majority of men, remaining outside the charmed circle of revolutionary virtue, were:

“monsters,” “ferocious beasts seeking to devour the human race.” “Strike without mercy, citizen,” the president of the Jacobins tells a young soldier, “at anything that is related to the monarchy. Don’t lay down your gun until all our enemies are dead—this is humanitarian advice.” “It is less a question of punishing them than of annihilating them,” says Couthon. “None must be deported; [they] must be destroyed,” says Collot. General Turreau in the Vendée gave the order “to bayonet men, women, and children and burn and set fire to everything.” (p. 100)

Mass shootings and drownings continued for months, especially in places such as the Vendée which had previously revolted. Foreigners sometimes had to be used: “Carrier had Germans do the drowning. They were not disturbed by the moral bonds that would have stopped a fellow countryman” (p. 187).

Why did this revolutionary regime come to an end? Cochin does not tell us; he limits himself to the banal observation that “being unnatural, it could not last” (p. 230). His death in 1916 saved him from having to consider the counterexample of Soviet Russia. Taking the Jacobins consciously as a model, Lenin created a conspiratorial party which seized power and carried out deliberately the sorts of measures Cochin ascribes to the impersonal workings of the “social mechanism.” Collective responsibility, mutual surveillance and denunciation, the playing off of nationalities against one another—all were studiously imitated by the Bolsheviks. For the people of Russia, the Terror lasted at least thirty-five years, until the death of Stalin.

Cochin’s analysis raises difficult questions of moral judgment, which he does not try to evade. If revolutionary massacres were really the consequence of a “social mechanism,” can their perpetrators be judged by the standards which apply in ordinary criminal cases? Cochin seems to think not:

“I had orders,” Fouquier kept replying to each new accusation. “I was the ax,” said another; “does one punish an ax?” Poor, frightened devils, they quibbled, haggled, denounced their brothers; and when finally cornered and overwhelmed, they murmured “But I was not the only one! Why me?” That was the helpless cry of the unmasked Jacobin, and he was quite right, for a member of the societies was never the only one: over him hovered the collective force. With the new regime men vanish, and there opens in morality itself the era of unconscious forces and human mechanics. (p. 58)

Under the social regime, man’s moral capacities get “socialized” in the same way as his thought, action, and property. “Those who know the machine know there exist mitigating circumstances, unknown to ordinary life, and the popular curse that weighed on the last Jacobins’ old age may be as unfair as the enthusiasm that had acclaimed their elders,” he says (p. 210), and correctly points out that many of the former Terrorists became harmless civil servants under the Empire.

It will certainly be an unpalatable conclusion for many readers. I cannot help recalling in this connection the popular outrage which greeted Arendt’s Eichmann in Jerusalem back in the 1960s, with its similar observations.

But if considering the social alienation of moral conscience permits the revolutionaries to appear less evil than some of the acts they performed, it also leaves them more contemptible. “We are far from narratives like Plutarch’s,” Cochin observes (p. 58); “Shakespeare would have found nothing to inspire him, despite the dramatic appearance of the situations” (p. 211).

Not one [of the Jacobins] had the courage to look [their judges] in the eye and say “Well, yes, I robbed, I tortured and I killed lawlessly, recklessly, mercilessly for an idea I consider right. I regret nothing; I take nothing back; I deny nothing. Do as you like with me.” Not one spoke thus—because not one possessed the positive side of fanaticism: faith. (p. 113)

Cochin’s interpretive labors deserve the attention of a wider audience than specialists in the history of the French Revolution. The possible application of his analysis to subsequent groups and events is great indeed, although the possibility of their misapplication is perhaps just as great. The most important case is surely Russia. Richard Pipes has noted, making explicit reference to Cochin, that Russian radicalism arose in a political and social situation similar in important respects to France of the ancien régime. On the other hand, the Russian case was no mere product of social “mechanics.” The Russian radicals consciously modeled themselves on their French predecessors. Pipes even shows how the Russian revolutionaries relied too heavily on the French example to teach them how a revolution is “supposed to” develop, blinding themselves to the situation around them. In any case, although Marxism officially considered the French Revolution a “bourgeois” prelude to the final “proletarian” revolution, Russian radicals did acknowledge that there was little in which the Jacobins had not anticipated them. Lenin considered Robespierre a Bolshevik avant la lettre.

The rise of the “Academic Left” is another phenomenon worth comparing to the “development of the enlightenment” in the French salons. The sheltered environment of our oversubsidized university system is a marvelous incubator for the same sort of utopian radicalism and cheap moral posturing.

Or consider the feminist “Consciousness Raising” sessions of the 1970’s. Women’s “personal constructs” (dissatisfaction with their husbands, feelings of being treated unfairly, etc.) were said to be “validated by the group,” i.e., came to be considered true when they met with agreement from other members, however outlandish they might sound to outsiders. “It is when a group’s ideas are strongly at variance with those in the wider society,” writes one enthusiast, “that group validation of constructs is likely to be most important.”[5] Cochin explained with reference to the sociétés de pensée exactly the sort of thing going on here.

Any serious attempt to extend and apply Cochin’s ideas will, however, have to face squarely one matter on which his own statements are confused or even contradictory.

Cochin sometimes speaks as if all the ideas of the Enlightenment follow from the mere form of the société de pensée, and hence should be found wherever they are found. He writes, for example, “Free thought is the same in Paris as in Peking, in 1750 as in 1914” (p. 127). Now, this is already questionable. It would be more plausible to say that the various competing doctrines of radicalism share a family resemblance, especially if one concentrates on their negative aspects such as the rejection of traditional “prejudices.”

But in other passages Cochin allows that sociétés de pensée are compatible with entirely different kinds of content. In one place (p. 62) he even speaks of “the royalist societies of 1815” as coming under his definition! Stendhal offers a memorable fictional portrayal of such a group in Le rouge et le noir, part II, chs. xxi–xxiii; Cochin himself refers to the Mémoires of Aimée de Coigny, and may have had the Waterside Conspiracy in mind. It would not be at all surprising if such groups imitated some of the practices of their enemies.

But what are we to say when Cochin cites the example of the Company of the Blessed Sacrament? This organization was active in France between the 1630s and 1660s, long before the “Age of Enlightenment.” It had collectivist tendencies, such as the practice of “fraternal correction,” which it justified in terms of Christian humility: the need to combat individual pride and amour-propre. It also exhibited a moderate degree of egalitarianism; within the Company, social rank was effaced, and one Prince of the Blood participated as an ordinary member. Secrecy was said to be the “soul of the Company.” One of its activities was the policing of behavior through a network of informants, low-cut evening dresses and the sale of meat during lent being among its special targets. Some fifty provincial branches accepted the direction of the Paris headquarters. The Company operated independently of the King, and opponents referred to it as the cabale des devots. Louis XIV naturally became suspicious of such an organization, and officially ordered it shut down in 1666.

Was this expression of counter-reformational Catholic piety a société de pensée? Were its members “God’s Jacobins,” or its campaign against immodest dress a “holy terror”? Cochin does not finally tell us. A clear typology of sociétés de pensée would seem to be necessary before his analysis of the philosophes could be extended with any confidence. But the more historical studies advance, the more difficult this task will likely become. Such is the nature of man, and of history.

Notes

[1] François Furet, Interpreting the French Revolution (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981), 173.

[2] Furet, 184.

[3] Furet, 185.

[4] Furet, 186–90.

[5] http://www.uow.edu.au/arts/sts/bmartin/pubs/01psa.html [3]

Source: TOQ, vol. 8, no. 2 (Summer 2008)

 


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URL to article: http://www.counter-currents.com/2012/06/from-salon-to-guillotine/

dimanche, 08 juillet 2012

American Transcendentalism

American Transcendentalism:
An Indigenous Culture of Critique

By Kevin MacDonald

Ex: http://www.counter-currents.com/

Philip F. Gura
American Transcendentalism: A History [2]
New York: Hill and Wang, 2007

Philip Gura’s American Transcendentalism provides a valuable insight into a nineteenth-century leftist intellectual elite in the United States. This is of considerable interest because Transcendentalism was a movement entirely untouched by the predominantly Jewish milieu of the twentieth-century left in America. Rather, it was homegrown, and its story tells us much about the sensibility of an important group of white intellectuals and perhaps gives us hints about why in the twentieth century WASPs so easily capitulated to the Jewish onslaught on the intellectual establishment.

Based in New England, Transcendentalism was closely associated with Harvard and Boston—the very heart of Puritan New England. It was also closely associated with Unitarianism which had become the most common religious affiliation for Boston’s elite. Many Transcendentalists were Unitarian clergymen, including Ralph Waldo Emerson, the person whose name is most closely associated with the movement in the public mind.

These were very intelligent people living in an age when religious beliefs required an intellectual defense rather than blind acceptance. Their backgrounds were typical of New England Christians of the day. But as their intellectual world expanded (often at the Harvard Divinity School), they became aware of the “higher criticism” of the Bible that originated with German scholars. This scholarship showed that there were several different authors of Genesis and that Moses did not write the first five books of the Old Testament. They also became aware of other religions, such as Buddhism and Hinduism which made it unlikely that Christianity had a monopoly on religious truth.

In their search for an intellectual grounding of religion, they rejected Locke’s barren empiricism and turned instead to the idealism of Kant, Schelling, and Coleridge. If the higher criticism implied that the foundations of religious belief were shaky, and if God was unlikely to have endowed Christianity with unique religious truths, the Transcendentalists would build new foundations emphasizing the subjectivity of religious experience. The attraction of idealism to the Transcendentalists was its conception of the mind as creative, intuitive, and interpretive rather than merely reactive to external events. As the writer and political activist Orestes Brownson summed it up in 1840, Transcendentalism defended man’s “capacity of knowing truth intuitively [and] attaining scientific knowledge of an order of existence transcending the reach of the senses, and of which we can have no sensible experience” (p. 121). Everyone, from birth, possesses a divine element, and the mind has “innate principles, including the religious sentiment” (p. 84).

The intuitions of the Transcendentalists were decidedly egalitarian and universalist. “Universal divine inspiration—grace as the birthright of all—was the bedrock of the Transcendentalist movement” (p. 18). Ideas of God, morality, and immortality are part of human nature and do not have to be learned. As Gura notes, this is the spiritual equivalent of the democratic ideal that all men (and women) are created equal.

Intuitions are by their very nature slippery things. One could just as plausibly (or perhaps more plausibly) propose that humans have intuitions of greed, lust, power, and ethnocentrism—precisely the view of the Darwinians who came along later in the century. In the context of the philosophical milieu of Transcendentalism, their intuitions were not intended to be open to empirical investigation. Their truth was obvious and compelling—a fact that tells us much about the religious milieu of the movement.

On the other hand, the Transcendentalists rejected materialism with its emphasis on “facts, history, the force of circumstance and the animal wants of man” (quoting Emerson, p. 15). Fundamentally, they did not want to explain human history or society, and they certainly would have been unimpressed by a Darwinian view of human nature that emphasizes such nasty realities as competition for power and resources and how these play out given the exigencies of history. Rather, they adopted a utopian vision of humans as able to transcend all that by means of the God-given spiritual powers of the human mind.

Not surprisingly, this philosophy led many Transcendentalists to become deeply involved in social activism on behalf of the lower echelons of society—the poor, prisoners, the insane, the developmentally disabled, and slaves in the South.

* * *

The following examples give a flavor of some of the central attitudes and typical social activism of important Transcendentalists.

Orestes Brownson (1803–1876) admired the Universalists’ belief in the inherent dignity of all people and the promise of eventual universal salvation for all believers. He argued “for the unity of races and the inherent dignity of each person, and he lambasted Southerners for trying to enlarge their political base” (p. 266). Like many New Englanders, he was outraged by the Supreme Court decision in the Dred Scott case that required authorities in the North to return fugitive slaves to their owners in the South. For Brownson the Civil War was a moral crusade waged not only to preserve the union, but to emancipate the slaves. Writing in 1840, Brownson claimed that we should “realize in our social arrangements and in the actual conditions of all men that equality of man and man” that God had established but which had been destroyed by capitalism (pp. 138–39). According to Brownson, Christians had

to bring down the high, and bring up the low; to break the fetters of the bound and set the captive free; to destroy all oppression, establish the reign of justice, which is the reign of equality, between man and man; to introduce new heavens and a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness, wherein all shall be as brothers, loving one another, and no one possessing what another lacketh. (p. 139)

George Ripley (1802–1880), who founded the utopian community of Brook Farm and was an important literary critic, “preached in earnest Unitarianism’s central message, a belief in universal, internal religious principle that validated faith and united all men and women” (p. 80). Ripley wrote that Transcendentalists “believe in an order of truths which transcends the sphere of the external senses. Their leading idea is the supremacy of mind over matter.” Religious truth does not depend on facts or tradition but

has an unerring witness in the soul. There is a light, they believe, which enlighteneth every man that cometh into the world; there is a faculty in all, the most degraded, the most ignorant, the most obscure, to perceive spiritual truth, when distinctly represented; and the ultimate appeal, on all moral questions, is not to a jury of scholars, a hierarchy of divines, or the prescriptions of a creed, but to the common sense of the race. (p. 143)

Ripley founded Brook Farm on the principle of substituting “brotherly cooperation” for “selfish competition” (p. 156). He questioned the economic and moral basis of capitalism. He held that if people did the work they desired, and for which they had a talent, the result would be a non-competitive, classless society where each person would achieve personal fulfillment.

Amos Bronson Alcott (1799–1888) was an educator who “believed in the innate goodness of each child whom he taught” (p. 85). Alcott “realized how Unitarianism’s positive and inclusive vision of humanity accorded with his own” (p. 85). He advocated strong social controls in order to socialize children: infractions were reported to the entire group of students, which then prescribed the proper punishment. The entire group was punished for the bad behavior of a single student. His students were the children of the intellectual elite of Boston, but his methods eventually proved unpopular. The school closed after most of the parents withdrew their children when Alcott insisted upon admitting a black child. Alcott supported William Garrison’s radical abolitionism, and he was a financial supporter of John Brown and his violent attempts to overthrow slavery.

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882) stirred a great deal of controversy in his American Scholar, an 1832 address to the Harvard Divinity School, because he reinterpreted what it meant for Christ to claim to be divine:

One man was true to what is in you and me. He saw that God incarnates himself in man, and evermore goes forth to take possession of his world. He said, in this jubilee of sublime emotion, “I am divine. Through me, God acts; through me, he speaks. Would you see God, see me; or, see thee, when thou also thinkest as I now think.” (p. 103)

Although relatively individualistic by the standards of Transcendentalism, Emerson proposed that by believing in their own divine purpose, people would have the courage to stand up for social justice. The divinely powered individual was thus linked to disrupting the social order.

Theodore Parker (1810–1860) was a writer, public intellectual, and model for religiously motivated liberal activism. He wrote that “God is alive and in every person” (p. 143). Gura interprets Parker as follows: “God is not what we are, but what we need to make our lives whole, and one way to realize this is through selfless devotion to God’s creation” (p. 218).

Parker was concerned about crime and poverty, and he was deeply opposed to the Mexican war and to slavery. He blamed social conditions for crime and poverty, condemning merchants: “We are all brothers, rich and poor, American and foreign, put here by the same God, for the same end, and journeying towards the same heaven, and owing mutual help” (p. 219). In Parker’s view, slavery is “the blight of this nation” and was the real reason for the Mexican war, because it was aimed at expanding the slave states. Parker was far more socially active than Emerson, becoming one of the most prominent abolitionists and a secret financial supporter of John Brown.

When Parker looked back on the history of the Puritans, he saw them as standing for moral principles. He approved in particular of John Eliot, who preached to the Indians and attempted to convert them to Christianity.

Nevertheless, Parker is a bit of an enigma because, despite being a prominent abolitionist and favoring racial integration of schools and churches, he asserted that the Anglo-Saxon race was “more progressive” than all others.[1] He was also prone to making condescending and disparaging comments about the potential of Africans for progress.

William Henry Channing (1810–1884) was a Transcendentalist writer and Christian socialist. He held that economic activity conducted in the spirit of Christian love would establish a more egalitarian society that would include immigrants, the poor, slaves, prisoners, and the mentally ill. He worked tirelessly on behalf of the cause of emancipation and in the Freedman’s Bureau designed to provide social services for former slaves. Although an admirer of Emerson, he rejected Emerson’s individualism, writing in a letter to Theodore Parker that it was one of his deepest convictions that the human race “is inspired as well as the individual; that humanity is a growth from the Divine Life as well as man; and indeed that the true advancement of the individual is dependent upon the advancement of a generation, and that the law of this is providential, the direct act of the Being of beings.”[2]

* * *

In the 1840s there was division between relatively individualist Trancendentalists like Emerson who “valued individual spiritual growth and self-expression,” and “social reformers like Brownson, Ripley, and increasingly, Parker” (p. 137). In 1844 Emerson joined a group of speakers that included abolitionists, but many Transcendentalists questioned his emphasis on self-reliance given the Mexican war, upheaval in Europe, and slavery. They saw self-reliance as ineffectual in combating the huge aggregation of interests these represented. Elizabeth Peabody lamented Emerson’s insistence that a Transcendentalist should not labor “for small objects, such as Abolition, Temperance, Political Reforms, &c.” (p. 216). (She herself was an advocate of the Kindergarten movement as well as Native American causes [p. 270].)

But Emerson did oppose slavery. An 1844 speech praised Caribbean blacks for rising to high occupations after slavery: “This was not the case in the United States, where descendants of Africans were precluded any opportunity to be a white person’s equal. This only reflected on the moral bankruptcy of American white society, however, for ‘the civility of no race can be perfect whilst another race is degraded’” (p. 245).

Emerson and other Transcendentalists were outraged by the Fugitive Slave Law of 1850. Gura notes that for Emerson, “the very landscape seemed robbed of its beauty, and he even had trouble breathing because of the ‘infamy’ in the air” (p. 246). After the John Brown debacle, Emerson was “glad to see that the terror at disunion and anarchy is disappearing,” for the price of slaves’ freedom might demand it (p. 260). Both Emerson and Thoreau commented on Brown’s New England Puritan heritage. Emerson lobbied Lincoln on slavery, and when Lincoln emancipated the slaves, he said “Our hurts are healed; the health of the nation is repaired” (p. 265). He thought the war worth fighting because of it.

* * *

After the Civil War, idealism lost its preeminence, and American intellectuals increasingly embraced materialism. Whereas Locke had been the main inspiration for materialism earlier in the century, materialism was now exemplified by Darwin, Auguste Comte, and William Graham Sumner. After the Civil War, the Transcendentalists’ contributions to American intellectual discourse “remained vital, if less remarked, particularly among those who kept alive a dream of a common humanity based in the irreducible equality of all souls” (p. 271). One of the last Transcendentalists, Octavius Brooks Frothingham, wrote that Transcendentalism was being “suppressed by the philosophy of experience, which, under different names, was taking possession of the speculative world” (p. 302). The enemies of Transcendentalism were “positivists” (p. 302). After Emerson’s death, George Santayana commented that he “was a cheery, child-like soul, impervious to the evidence of evil” (pp. 304–305).

By the early twentieth century, then, Transcendentalism was a distant memory, and the new materialists had won the day. The early part of the twentieth century was the high water mark of Darwinism in the social sciences. It was common at that time to think that there were important differences between the races in both intelligence and moral qualities. Not only did races differ, they were in competition with each other for supremacy. Whereas later in the century, Jewish intellectuals led the battle against Darwinism in the social sciences, racialist ideas were part of the furniture of intellectual life—commonplace among intellectuals of all stripes, including a significant number of Jewish racial nationalists concerned about the racial purity and political power of the Jewish people.[3]

The victory of Darwinisn was short-lived, however, as the left became reinvigorated by the rise of several predominantly Jewish intellectual and political movements: Marxism, Boasian anthropology, psychoanalysis, and other ideologies that collectively have dominated intellectual discourse ever since.[4]

*  *  *

So what is one to make of this prominent strand of egalitarian universalism in nineteenth-century America? The first thing that strikes one about Transcendentalism is that it is an outgrowth of the Puritan strain of American culture. Transcendentalism was centered in New England, and all its major figures were descendants of the Puritans. I have written previously of Puritanism as a rather short-lived group evolutionary strategy, supplementing the work of David Sloan Wilson on Calvinism, the forerunner of Puritanism.[5] The basic idea is that, like Jews, Puritans during their heyday had a strong psychological sense of group membership combined with social controls that minutely regulated the behavior of ingroup members. Their group strategy depended on being able to control a particular territory—Massachusetts—but by the end of theseventeenth century, they were unable to regulate the borders of the colony due to the policy of the British colonial authorities, hence the government of Massachusetts ceased being the embodiment of the Puritans as a group. In the absence of political control, Puritanism gradually lost the power to enforce its religious strictures (e.g., church attendance and orthodox religious beliefs), and the population changed as the economic prosperity created by the Puritans drew an influx of non-Puritans into the area.

The Puritans were certainly highly intelligent, and they sought a system of beliefs that was firmly grounded in contemporary thinking. One striking aspect of Gura’s treatment is his description of earnest proto-Transcendentalists trekking over to Germany to imbibe the wisdom of German philosophy and producing translations and lengthy commentaries on this body of work for an American audience.

But the key to Puritanism as a group strategy, like other strategies, was the control of behavior of group members. As with Calvin’s original doctrine, there was a great deal of supervision of individual behavior. Historian David Hackett Fischer describes Puritan New England’s ideology of “Ordered Liberty” as “the freedom to order one’s acts in a godly way—but not in any other.”[6] This “freedom as public obligation” implied strong social control of thought, speech, and behavior.

Both New England and East Anglia (the center of Puritanism in England) had the lowest relative rates of private crime (murder, theft, mayhem), but the highest rates of public violence—“the burning of rebellious servants, the maiming of political dissenters, the hanging of Quakers, the execution of witches.”[7] This record is entirely in keeping with Calvinist tendencies in Geneva.[8]

The legal system was designed to enforce intellectual, political, and religious conformity as well as to control crime. Louis Taylor Merrill describes the “civil and religious strait-jacket that the Massachusetts theocrats applied to dissenters.”[9] The authorities, backed by the clergy, controlled blasphemous statements and confiscated or burned books deemed to be offensive. Spying on one’s neighbors and relatives was encouraged. There were many convictions for criticizing magistrates, the governor, or the clergy. Unexcused absence from church was fined, with people searching the town for absentees. Those who fell asleep in church were also fined. Sabbath violations were punished as well. A man was even penalized for publicly kissing his wife as he greeted her on his doorstep upon his return from a three-year sea voyage.

Kevin Phillips traces the egalitarian, anti-hierarchical spirit of Yankee republicanism back to the settlement of East Anglia by Angles and Jutes in post-Roman times.[10] They produced “a civic culture of high literacy, town meetings, and a tradition of freedom,” distinguished from other British groups by their “comparatively large ratios of freemen and small numbers of servi and villani.”[11] President John Adams cherished the East Anglian heritage of “self-determination, free male suffrage, and a consensual social contract.”[12] East Anglia continued to produce “insurrections against arbitrary power”—the rebellions of 1381 led by Jack Straw, Wat Tyler, and John Ball; Clarence’s rebellion of 1477; and Robert Kett’s rebellion of 1548. All of these rebellions predated the rise of Puritanism, suggesting an ingrained cultural tendency.

This emphasis on relative egalitarianism and consensual, democ­ratic government are tendencies characteristic of Northern European peoples as a result of a prolonged evolutionary history as hunter-gatherers in the north of Europe.[13] But these tendencies are certainly not center stage when thinking about the political tendencies of the Transcendentalists.

What is striking is the moral fervor of the Puritans. Puritans tended to pursue utopian causes framed as moral issues. They were susceptible to appeals to a “higher law,” and they tended to believe that the principal purpose of government is moral. New England was the most fertile ground for “the perfectibility of man creed,” and the “father of a dozen ‘isms.’”[14] There was a tendency to paint political alternatives as starkly contrasting moral imperatives, with one side portrayed as evil incarnate—inspired by the devil.

Whereas in the Puritan settlements of Massachusetts the moral fervor was directed at keeping fellow Puritans in line, in the nineteenth century it was directed at the entire country. The moral fervor that had inspired Puritan preachers and magistrates to rigidly enforce laws on fornication, adultery, sleeping in church, or criticizing preachers was universalized and aimed at correcting the perceived ills of capitalism and slavery.

Puritans waged holy war on behalf of moral righteousness even against their own cousins—perhaps a form of altruistic punishment as defined by Ernst Fehr and Simon Gächter.[15] Altruistic punishment refers to punishing people even at a cost to oneself. Altruistic punishment is found more often among cooperative hunter-gatherer groups than among groups, such as Jews, based on extended kinship.[16]

Whatever the political and economic complexities that led to the Civil War, it was the Yankee moral condemnation of slavery that inspired and justified the massive carnage of closely related Anglo-Americans on behalf of slaves from Africa. Militarily, the war with the Confederacy was the greatest sacrifice in lives and property ever made by Americans.[17] Puritan moral fervor and punitiveness are also evident in the call of the Congregationalist minister at Henry Ward Beecher’s Old Plymouth Church in New York during the Second World War for “exterminating the German people . . . the sterilization of 10,000,000 German soldiers and the segregation of the woman.”[18]

It is interesting that the moral fervor the Puritans directed at ingroup and outgroup members strongly resembles that of the Old Testament prophets who railed against Jews who departed from God’s law, and against the uncleanness or even the inhumanity of non-Jews. Indeed, it has often been noted that the Puritans saw themselves as the true chosen people of the Bible. In the words of Samuel Wakeman, a prominentseventeenth-century Puritan preacher: “Jerusalem was, New England is; they were, you are God’s own, God’s covenant people; put but New England’s name instead of Jerusalem.”[19] “They had left Europe which was their ‘Egypt,’ their place of enslavement, and had gone out into the wilderness on a messianic journey, to found the New Jerusalem.”[20]

Whereas Puritanism as a group evolutionary strategy crumbled when the Puritans lost control of Massachusetts, Diaspora Jews were able to maintain their group integrity even without control over a specific territory for well over 2,000 years. This attests to the greater ethnocentrism of Jews. But, although relatively less ethnocentric, the Puritans were certainly not lacking in moralistic aggression toward members of their ingroup, even when the boundaries of the ingroup were expanded to include all of America, or indeed all of humanity. And while the Puritans were easily swayed by moral critiques of white America, because of their stronger sense of ingroup identity, Jews have been remarkably resistant to moralistic critiques of Judaism.[21]

With the rise of the Jewish intellectual and political movements described in The Culture of Critique, the descendants of the Puritans readily joined the chorus of moral condemnation of America.

The lesson here is that in large part the problem confronting whites stems from the psychology of moralistic self-punishment exemplified at the extreme by the Puritans and their intellectual descendants, but also apparent in a great many other whites. As I have noted elsewhere:

 

Once Europeans were convinced that their own people were morally bankrupt, any and all means of punishment should be used against their own people. Rather than see other Europeans as part of an encompassing ethnic and tribal community, fellow Europeans were seen as morally blameworthy and the appropriate target of altruistic punishment. For Westerners, morality is individualistic—violations of communal norms . . . are punished by altruistic aggression. . . .

The best strategy for a collectivist group like the Jews for destroying Europeans therefore is to convince the Europeans of their own moral bankruptcy. A major theme of [The Culture of Critique] is that this is exactly what Jewish intellectual movements have done. They have presented Judaism as morally superior to European civilization and European civilization as morally bankrupt and the proper target of altruistic punishment. The consequence is that once Europeans are convinced of their own moral depravity, they will destroy their own people in a fit of altruistic punishment. The general dismantling of the culture of the West and eventually its demise as anything resembling an ethnic entity will occur as a result of a moral onslaught triggering a paroxysm of altruistic punishment. Thus the intense effort among Jewish intellectuals to continue the ideology of the moral superiority of Judaism and its role as undeserving historical victim while at the same time continuing the onslaught on the moral legitimacy of the West. [22]

 

The Puritan legacy in American culture is indeed pernicious, especially since the bar of morally correct behavior has been continually raised to the point that any white group identification has been pathologized. As someone with considerable experience in the academic world, I can attest to feeling like a wayward heretic back in seventeenth-century Massachusetts when confronted, as I often am, by academic thought police. It’s the moral fervor of these people that stands out. The academic world has become a Puritan congregation of stifling thought control, enforced by moralistic condemnations that aseventeenth-century Puritan minister could scarcely surpass. In my experience, this thought control is far worse in the East coast colleges and universities founded by the Puritans than elsewhere in academia—a fitting reminder of the continuing influence of Puritanism in American life.

Given this state of affairs, what sorts of therapy might one suggest? To an evolutionary psychologist, this moralistic aggression seems obviously adaptive for maintaining the boundaries and policing the behavior of a close-knit group. The psychology of moralistic aggression against deviating Jews (often termed “self-hating Jews”) has doubtless served Jews quite well over the centuries. Similarly, groups of Angles, Jutes, and their Puritan descendants doubtlessly benefited greatly from moralistic aggression because of its effectiveness in enforcing group norms and punishing cheaters and defectors.

There is nothing inherently wrong with moralistic aggression. The key is to convince whites to alter their moralistic aggression in a more adaptive direction in light of Darwinism. After all, the object of moralistic aggression is quite malleable. Ethnonationalist Jews in Israel use their moral fervor to rationalize the dispossession and debasement of the Palestinians, but many of the same American Jews who fervently support Jewish ethnonationalism in Israel feel a strong sense of moralistic outrage at vestiges of white identity in the United States.

A proper Darwinian sense of moralistic aggression would be directed at those of all ethnic backgrounds who have engineered or are maintaining the cultural controls that are presently dispossessing whites of their historic homelands. The moral basis of this proposal is quite clear:

 

(1) There are genetic differences between peoples, thus different peoples have legitimate conflicts of interest.[23]

(2) Ethnocentrism has deep psychological roots that cause us to feel greater attraction and trust for those who are genetically similar.[24]

(3) As Frank Salter notes, ethnically homogeneous societies bound by ties of kinship and culture are more likely to be open to redistributive policies such as social welfare.[25]

(4) Ethnic homogeneity is associated with greater social trust and political participation.[26]

(5) Ethnic homogeneity may well be a precondition of political systems characterized by democracy and rule of law.[27]

The problem with the Transcendentalists is that they came along before their intuitions could be examined in the cold light of modern evolutionary science. Lacking any firm foundation in science, they embraced a moral universalism that is ultimately ruinous to people like themselves. And because it is so contrary to our evolved inclinations, their moral universalism needs constant buttressing with all the power of the state—much as the rigorous rules of the Puritans of old required constant surveillance by the authorities.

Of course, the Transcendentalists would have rejected such a “positivist” analysis. Indeed, one might note that modern psychology is on the side of the Puritans in the sense that explicitly held ideologies are able to exert control over the more ancient parts of the brain, including those responsible for ethnocentrism.[28] The Transcendentalist belief that the mind is creative and does not merely respond to external facts is quite accurate in light of modern psychological research. In modern terms, the Transcendentalists were essentially arguing that whatever “the animal wants of man” (to quote Emerson), humans are able to imagine an ideal world and exert effective psychological control over their ethnocentrism. They are even able to suppress desires for territory and descendants that permeate human history and formed an important part of the ideology of the Old Testament—a book that certainly had a huge influence on the original Puritan vision of the New Jerusalem.

Like the Puritans, the Transcendentalists would have doubtlessly acknowledged that some people have difficulty controlling these tendencies. But this is not really a problem, because these people can be forced. The New Jerusalem can become a reality if people are willing to use the state to enforce group norms of thought and behavior. Indeed, there are increasingly strong controls on thought crimes against the multicultural New Jerusalem throughout the West.

The main difference between the Puritan New Jerusalem and the present multicultural one is that the latter will lead to the demise of the very white people who are the mainstays of the current multicultural Zeitgeist. Unlike the Puritan New Jerusalem, the multicultural New Jerusalem will not be controlled by people like themselves, who in the long run will be a tiny, relatively powerless minority.

The ultimate irony is that without altruistic whites willing to be morally outraged by violations of multicultural ideals, the multicultural New Jerusalem is likely to revert to a Darwinian struggle for survival among the remnants. But the high-minded descendants of the Puritans won’t be around to witness it.

Notes

[3] Kevin MacDonald, Separation and Its Discontents: Toward an Evolutionary Theory of Anti-Semitism (Bloomington, Ind.: Firstbooks, 2004), Chapter 5.

[4] Kevin MacDonald, The Culture of Critique: An Evolutionary Analysis of Jewish Involvement in Twentieth-Century Intellectual and Political Movements (Bloomington, Ind.: Firstbooks, 2002).

[5] David Sloan Wilson, Darwin’s Cathedral (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002); Kevin MacDonald, (2002). “Diaspora Peoples,” Preface to the First Paperback Edition of A People That Shall Dwell Alone: Judaism as a Group Evolutionary Strategy (Lincoln, Nebr.: iUniverse, 2002).

[6]  David H. Fischer, Albion’s Seed: Four British Folkways in America (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989), 202.

[7]  Albion’s Seed, 189.

[8] See Darwin’s Cathedral.

[9] Louis T. Merrill, “The Puritan Policeman,” American Sociological Review 10 (1945): 766–76, p. 766.

[10] Kevin Phillips, The Cousins’ Wars: Politics, Civil Warfare, and the Triumph of Anglo-America (New York: Basic Books, 1999).

[11] Ibid., 26.

[12] Ibid., 27.

[13] Kevin MacDonald, “What Makes Western Civilization Unique?” in Cultural Insurrections: Essays on Western Civilization, Jewish Influence, and Anti-Semitism (Atlanta: The Occidental Press, 2007).

[14] Albion’s Seed, 357.

[15] Ernst Fehr and Simon Gächter, “Altruistic Punishment in Humans,” Nature 412 (2002): 137-40.

[16] See my discussion in “Diaspora Peoples.”

[17] The Cousins’ Wars, 477.

[18] Ibid., 556.

[19] A. Hertzberg, The Jews in America: Four Centuries of an Uneasy Encounter (New York: Columbia University Press, 1998), 20–21.

[20] Ibid., 20.

[21] See Kevin MacDonald, “The Israel Lobby: A Case Study in Jewish Influence,” The Occidental Quarterly 7 (Fall 2007): 33–58.

[22] Preface to the paperback edition of The Culture of Critique.

[23] Frank K. Salter, On Genetic Interests: Family, Ethnicity, and Humanity in an Age of Mass Migration (New Brunswick, N.J.: Transaction, 2006).

[24] J. Philippe Rushton, “Ethnic Nationalism, Evolutionary Psychology, and Genetic Similarity Theory,” Nations and Nationalism 11 (2005): 489–507.

[25] Frank K. Salter, Welfare, Ethnicity and Altruism: New Data and Evolutionary Theory (London: Routledge, 2005).

[26] Robert Putnam, “E Pluribus Unum: Diversity and Community in the Twenty-first Century,” The 2006 Johan Skytte Prize Lecture, Scandinavian Journal of Political Studies 30 (2007): 137–74.

[27] Jerry Z. Muller, “Us and Them: The Enduring Power of Ethnic Nationalism,” Foreign Affairs, March/April 2008.

[28] Kevin MacDonald, “Psychology and White Ethnocentrism,” The Occidental Quarterly 6 (Winter, 2006–2007): 7–46.

Source: TOQ, vol. 8, no. 2 (Summer 2008).

 


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

URL to article: http://www.counter-currents.com/2012/06/american-transcendentalism/

dimanche, 01 juillet 2012

Europa verteidigen – gegen die selbstzerstörende Hassideologie!

Europa verteidigen – gegen die selbstzerstörende Hassideologie!

 

livre,fjordman,norvège,actualité,europe,affaires européennes

Fjordmans Texte bei Antaios

     


Geschrieben von: Harald Schmidt-Lonhart   

 

Ex: http://www.blauenarzisse.de/

 

Mit ihrer Textsammlung Europa verteidigen betreten die Herausgeber Manfred Kleine-Hartlage und Martin Lichtmesz kontaminiertes Gelände. Das Buch umfasst zehn Texte des norwegischen Bloggers Fjordman, der durch den Attentäter von Oslo und Utoya, Anders Breivik, zweifelhafte Berühmtheit erlangte. Man stellt sich unmittelbar die Frage, ob es sinnig ist, Texte einer solchen „Persona non grata“ zu veröffentlichen? Macht man sich damit nicht unnütz die Hände schmutzig? Schlägt man der Gegenseite nicht unnötig eine Flanke in den eigenen Strafraum oder ist es eine mutige Tat?

Mehr als bloße Islamkritik

Vor Breivik war Fjordman, der in Wahrheit den bürgerlichen Namen Peder Jensen trägt, eigentlich nur einer kleinen islamkritischen Szene bekannt. Dabei gehen die zahlreichen Essays weiter als bloße Islamkritik und befassen sich auch mit grundlegenden Sachverhalten, wie beispielsweise dem Zusammenwirken von Liberalismus und Neomarxismus oder der Verbindung zwischen Macht und Elite.

Die ausgewählten Texte Fjordmans wurden von den beiden Herausgebern Kleine-Hartlage und Lichtmesz in drei Kapitel unterteilt. Das erste bündelt das Thema Islamkritik. Der zweite Text „Was kostet Europa die islamische Zuwanderung?“ kann von demjenigen, der seine Hausaufgaben bei Oberlehrer Sarrazin gemacht hat, getrost übersprungen werden. Jedoch ist es wichtig, in Kapitel Zwei (Kulturkritik) und Drei (Globalismus/EU) am Ball zu bleiben. Hier liegt der Hase im Pfeffer. Dieser Aufbau des Herausgeberduos ist durchaus gelungen, da es die anfängliche Sicht gen Mekka um 180 Grad in Richtung des eigenen Inneren bzw. den Westen dreht und so für die richtige Frontstellung sorgt. So faßt Fjordman den Islam nicht als Gegner, sondern vielmehr die Islamisierung als Symptom einer „mit kulturellem AIDS“ geschwächten Gesellschaft auf.

Die kalte Dusche der Lageerkennung

Den Essays fehlt es dessen ungeachtet spürbar an der gewissen Portion sprachlicher Feinheiten und Raffinessen. Den Grund hierfür wird man im Übersetzungsprozess vom Norwegischen über das Englische ins Deutsche zu suchen haben. Auch der Vortragsstil von Fjordman ist stellenweise ermüdend. Der Norweger häkelt seine Gedanken Masche für Masche aneinander und arbeitet dabei auf eine Grundthese hin, die er am Ende seiner Texte zusammenfasst. Die einzelnen Maschen füllt er mit Beispielen und Zitaten. Dabei geraten einige Maschen zu weit und werden zu ausführlich. Andere wiederholen sich oder sind hinsichtlich der finalen Grundthese gar überflüssig. Auch das Niveau der Zitierten schwankt von zweitklassigen Bloggern oder kanadischen Polizisten bis hin zu einem Staatsmann wie Vaclav Klaus oder dem marxistischen Philosophen Antonio Gramsci.

Trotz dieser gefühlsarmen, leicht klotzigen Ausdrucksform fabriziert die Lektüre innerlich Erstaunen, Kummer, manchmal auch Zorn. Dieser gefühlstechnische Wellengang wird durch das mit Fakten untermauerte, meist einleuchtende Gesamtbild der fjordmanschen Texte erzeugt. Der Autor verpasst dem Leser die kalte Dusche der Lageerkennung. Fjordman fegt Wohlstand und Spaß bei Seite und ermöglicht Einblick in die Lava, welche längst unter der Oberfläche der Gesellschaft brodelt.

Wer Optimismus sucht, ist hier verkehrt

Wer die Gefahren einer schleichenden Islamisierung bislang nicht sehen wollte und Islamkritik pauschal für einen von Rassismus geschwängerten, populistischen Gedankenschluckauf hielt, muß angesichts der Faktenlage, die Fjordman zusammenträgt, seine Augen zukünftig noch fester zu kneifen, wenn er seine Sicht auf die Dinge nicht ändern will. Wer in der Political Correctness lediglich einen lästigen Schabernack von Freund Zeitgeist sah, erhält Einsicht in den langwierigen Hintergedanken, der damit verfolgt wird. Worthülsen wie „Toleranz“ und „Multikulturalismus“ werden von Fjordman als Teil einer selbstzerstörenden Hassideologie entlarvt und das dahinter stehende Kalkül zum Machterhalt der Eliten erklärt. Ähnlich geht Fjordman mit Feminismus und Gleichberechtigung ins Gericht, indem er die positiven Errungenschaften der Frauenrechtsbewegung von den Schäden für Gesellschaft und Individuum durch den Galle geifernden Feminismus ab den 60er Jahren trennt.

Das Buch Europa verteidigen ist keine angenehme Gutenachtlektüre. Man wird stetig von dem Gefühl heimgesucht, das man bekommt, wenn man im Sommer die Sonnenbrille absetzt und schlagartig das grelle Licht der Sonne wahrnimmt. Es brennt auf der Netzhaut und man ist gewillt, sogleich wieder die Brille auf die Nase zu schieben. Trotzdem ist es wichtig und richtig, die von Fjordman beackerten Themengebiete nicht kampflos aufzugeben. Ein Rückzug in diesem Bereich der freien Meinungsäußerung würde ein wichtiges Ventil verschließen und letztlich den Weg in die Eskalation beschleunigen. Denn man darf sich sicher sein, dass die schreckliche Bluttat von Breivik nur der Vorgeschmack von dem Chaos ist, welches Fjordman fürchtet und zu verhindern sucht.

Fjordman: Europa verteidigen. Zehn Texte. Herausgegeben von Martin Lichtmesz und Manfred Kleine-Hartlage. 240 Seiten, Edition Antaios, 2011. 19,00 Euro.