Miglio e le sue Lezioni di Scienze Politiche

Miglio e le sue Lezioni di Scienze Politiche

Una riflessione sull’attualità della storia delle idee e delle prassi politiche illustrata dallo scomparso costituzionalista italiano

Teodoro Klitsche de la Grange

Ex: http://rinascita.eu/  

In due volumi – Storia delle dottrine politiche e Scienza della politica - sono raccolte le “Lezioni di politica” di Gianfranco Miglio. Il primo volume su la Storia delle dottrine Politiche, mentre il secondo tratta la Scienza della politica e sono stati curati rispettivamente da Davide Bianchi e da Alessandro Vitale. La ricostruzione delle lezioni, fatte prevalentemente su registrazioni (e non su appunti degli allievi) ha evitato il consueto problema della fedeltà degli appunti al pensiero dello studioso.
Nella presentazione al primo volume Lorenzo Ornaghi e Pierangelo Schiera esordiscono scrivendo che “Si sta verificando, da qualche tempo, un fatto abbastanza raro nel panorama italiano degli studi sulla politica: la ristampa di scritti di Gianfranco Miglio risalenti ormai a più di cinquant’anni fa. Se questa è la misura della classicità, allora si deve cominciare a pensare che egli sia diventato un Classico”; ed è proprio l’impressione confermata dalla lettura di questi volumi: Miglio è un classico. E lo è non solo per il suo richiamarsi al pensiero (o ai pensatori) politici “classici” (da Tucidide a Machiavelli, da Hobbes agli elitisti, da Burke a Schmitt), ma perché, con le sue opere, vi aggiunge altro. Sull’approccio metodologico Daniele Bianchi nell’introduzione al primo volume scrive “Miglio aveva in uggia (come poche altre cose) la politologia empirica di marca anglosassone, per cui la sua Scienza della politica – a cui alla fine approdò – aveva contorni specifici, decisamente minoritari nella comunità scientifica italiana. Non essendo rivolta a misurare dati quantitativi, la sua era una Scienza della politica “concettuale” dei comportamenti umani nelle cose politiche. In altre parole, compito del politologo era per lui quello di dissodare il territorio sterminato e informe della storia, per portare alla luce le “costanti” nelle azioni degli uomini (p. 21). In effetti anche nella “Presentazione” alle Categorie del politico, scritta da Miglio si ritrova questa considerazione, nel commento che lo studioso lariano fa all’analogo ironico giudizio espresso da Schmitt nella “Premessa” a detto volume. E’ inutile dire che il pensiero di Miglio, pur non essendo “quantitativista” era tuttavia rigorosamente realista.
A tale proposito è interessante quanto Miglio sostiene nella “Lezione introduttiva” sul nesso che lega fatti e idee nella storia della politica “Il nesso che lega idee e fatti, ideologie e istituzioni è molto stretto: sarebbe infatti impossibile ricostruire una storia delle istituzioni senza fare riferimento alle ideologie che la sorreggono. In altre parole le ideologie non sono altro che la “bandiera” delle classi politiche, vessillo che permea di sé le istituzioni quando le classi stesse giungono al potere. Di norma, infatti il succedersi delle classi politiche reca con se anche l’avvento di nuove istituzioni, o la trasformazione delle precedenti, processi in cui le ideologie giocano un ruolo decisivo” (pp. 29-30).
L’altro rapporto su cui Miglio ritorna spesso, in ambedue i volumi (soprattutto nel secondo) è quello tra idee e istituzioni (e tra politica e diritto, in parte coincidente).
Scrive lo studioso lariano: “Ogni apparato ideologico è correlato a un sistema istituzionale, risulta perciò impossibile studiare delle istituzioni prescindendo completamente dalle ideologie che le hanno prodotte… Con le discipline giuridiche la politica intrattiene gli stessi rapporti che vi sono con le istituzioni, dato che il diritto è una sequela di procedure convenute; non è anzi eccessivo affermare che sarebbe impossibile pensare il diritto come qualcosa di autonomo, al di fuori della politica e delle istituzioni a cui attende. In altri termini, il diritto non è altro che un’ideologia tradotta in sistema, per cui ogni istituto è, più o meno direttamente, ascrivibile a una dottrina politica (o più di una)”.
Nell’introduzione al secondo volume il curatore Alessandro Vitale sottolinea che l’errore più grave nel leggere le lezioni “sarebbe però quello di considerarle espressione di semplice o addirittura eccessiva ‘eccentricità’. Questa visione facile e distorta impedirebbe, infatti, di cogliere la coerente e irriducibile ‘classicità’ del percorso di Miglio nello studio della politica. Quella che appare come originalità individuale, magari eccentrica e certamente isolata, è in realtà la coerente prosecuzione di un lungo percorso di riflessione sulla dimensione del ‘politico’ e sulle sue ‘regolarità’, passato attraverso il filtro di numerose discipline e la lezione dei più grandi teorici di tutti i tempi… nonché attraverso l’opera dei maggiori political scientists, che da un metodo prescientifico (dalle origini dei Mosca, Pareto, Michels) sono passati a quello rigoroso dei Weber e degli Schmitt”. Così l’inclusione della parte iniziale (i primi tre capitoli), anche se in taluni tratti si possa ritenerla un po’ ridondante “rimane tuttavia significativa, in quanto rispecchia la sua insofferenza per una cultura, come quella italiana, a lungo rimasta retorica, idealistica e poco empirica. Egli, in particolare, mal sopportava la crescente perdita di rigore e l’irrazionalismo tipico di epistemologie relativiste, che hanno sempre ritenuto equivalenti e intercambiabili tutte le opinioni configgenti nello studio della politica”.
I due volumi sono così densi di giudizi e considerazioni originali che considerarli tutti farebbe di questa recensione un piccolo trattato. Perciò ci limitiamo a due tra i più significativi e ricorrenti (anche in altre opere di Miglio).
La prima è la funzione – carattere principale che lo studioso lariano considera (compito) della scienza politica, cioè la scoperta e analisi delle “regolarità”, “costanti”, “invarianti” (termine quest’ultimo che si può trarre da altri campi e da altri studiosi) della politica.
Come scrive Miglio “Il processo conoscitivo è un processo sempre volto alla ricerca di regolarità. Non c’è conoscenza se non di fenomeni ripetibili. Soltanto con il confronto è possibile entrare nel reale, che di per sé rimane neutro, non risponde, non ha significato: attribuiamo semplicemente significati al mondo reale, distinguendo”, di fronte a un fenomeno che appare nuovo, “all’analisi accurata si rivelerà come qualcosa che era già conosciuta e che si è presentata soltanto in una combinazione differente”. Ci sono regolarità che hanno, almeno nella nostra cognizione ed esperienza, carattere universale; onde è facile prevedere che, in una situazione futura, continueranno a ripresentarsi, anche al di là delle intenzioni e aspirazioni degli attori del processo storico.
Ad esempio il marxismo; questo negava, nello stadio finale (da raggiungere) della società senza classi, due delle regolarità della politica (nel caso anche “presupposti del politico” di Julien Freund): ossia quella della classe politica (in altra prospettiva del comando/obbedienza), cioè dello Stato (l’ente politico) come apparato di governo di pochi su molti; e quella dell’amico-nemico, perché la società senza classi sarebbe stata pacifica, essendone la struttura economica “irenogenetica”. Abbiamo visto com’è andata: la società senza classi non s’è mai vista, neanche all’orizzonte, perché non si poteva realizzare (era contraria alle due “regolarità”); il socialismo reale si è fermato alla (fase della) dittatura del proletariato perché questo non negava (anzi potenziava) le regolarità suddette, essendo una dittatura (di un partito rivoluzionario, cioè di pochi) finalizzata alla guerra contro il nemico (di classe).
Miglio tiene ben presente l’epistemologia di Popper “Lo scienziato ha a che fare con previsioni probabilistiche. Ciò che assumiamo come certezza ha soltanto un elevato grado di probabilità e in un senso tutto operativo, perché adoperiamo come leggi certe, come ipotesi di regolarità certe, quelle che non sono ancora state falsificate. Quanto più a lungo una proposizione di questo tipo resiste alla falsificazione, tanto più possiamo fondarci su di essa: ma questa è sempre e soltanto altamente probabile”. Le regolarità - non falsificate, ma falsificabili – costituiscono poi la base della prevedibilità delle attività politiche.
L’altro è il rapporto tra politica e diritto.
Per Miglio lo Stato moderno è essenzialmente (e prevalentemente) un prodotto del diritto come contratto – scambio; e tutto il diritto è procedura. Il diritto pubblico ha qualcosa di “equivoco”. Adoperando il concetto d’istituzione “arriviamo a una conclusione solo apparentemente paradossale: quello che chiamiamo «Stato (moderno)», essendo un complesso di procedure convenute, di ordinamenti giuridici, non è politica. Si capisce allora perché lo Stato e la politica tendono ad andare per la loro strada”.
Per cui occorre districare “l’intreccio tra politica e diritto e distinguere fra quello che nello Stato è ormai diventato soltanto diritto (e quindi solo “contratto-scambio”) da ciò che invece perennemente sfugge a questa istituzionalizzazione, ossia la politica, generata e legata a un rapporto che non è di “contratto”, che non produce diritto, come quello relativo all’obbligazione politica”; l’analisi del problema delle istituzioni “ci ha condotto non solo a chiarire un problema tecnico molto rilevante, ma anche ad avere ennesima conferma della validità dell’ipotesi dalla quale abbiamo preso le mosse, che distingue radicalmente l’obbligazione politica dall’obbligazione-contratto”.
Il dualismo di Miglio è diverso e radicale: dove c’è obbligazione politica non c’è contratto-scambio: la commistione di queste negli ordinamenti (concreti) non può confondere le differenze. Si può concordare su questo (cioè sulla distinzione dei concetti) con Miglio, ma comunque la commistione c’è.
Tale posizione è così in contrasto con quanto scritto (anche) dai teorici dell’istituzionalismo giuridico (e non solo da loro), d’altra parte apprezzati da Miglio, come Maurice Hauriou e Santi Romano.
Posizione tradizionale nella dottrina giuridica, atteso che risale alla distinzione di Ulpiano “Publicum ius est quod ad statum rei Romanae spectat, privatum quod ad singulorum utilitatem”, D I, De Iustitia et jure, I. Il fundamentum distinctionis più rilevante tra diritto pubblico e diritto privato è condensato da Jellinek – e ripetuto prima e dopo di lui da altri (tanti), che il diritto privato regola i rapporti di coordinazione tra individui, quello pubblico di subordinazione. Nel pensiero di Hauriou la distinzione tra “diritto disciplinare” e “diritto comune” richiama da vicino la distinzione di Max Weber tra ordinamento amministrativo e ordinamento regolativo. Ma quello che è più importante è che, in concreto, il diritto pubblico esiste perché esistono dei rapporti che, anche se fondati sull’obbligo politico (il rapporto comando/obbedienza) costituiscono situazioni giuridiche nei rapporti tra poteri pubblici e tra questi e i cittadini dove è tutto un pullulare di diritti, obblighi, potestà, interessi legittimi interdipendenti. Anche se (molti) di quei rapporti intercorrono tra soggetti non in situazione di parità (ad esempio interessi legittimi/potestà) ciò non toglie che non siano giuridici e che non vi sia (quasi sempre) un giudice per dirimere le liti e statuire su tali diritti.
Rimane quindi una differenza profonda tra diritto pubblico e privato, conseguenza dei principi del Rechtstaat che, necessariamente, impongono una “giuridificazione” o “giustizializzazione” anche se non totale, al potere politico, (uno Stato dove non c’è qualcosa di assoluto – scriveva de Bonald – non s’è mai visto) e in particolare al rapporto di comando-obbedienza.
Nel complesso i due volumi, anche grazie alla chiarezza espositiva dello studioso lariano, costituiscono una lettura agevole e stimolante. E soprattutto portano una ventata di aria fresca in discipline spesso aggravate da un buonismo precettivo (i famosi “paternostri”) e anche da una certa ripetitività conformista. E queste, da sole, sono ragioni più che valide per leggerli e studiarli.
 
 
Gianfranco Miglio
Lezioni di politica - (Volume primo Storia delle dottrine politiche) - (Volume secondo Scienza della politica), Bologna 2011, Ed. Il Mulino, pp. 346 € 27,00 (I° Volume); pp. 512 € 33,00 (II° Volume).
 

http://rinascita.eu/index.php?action=news&id=17424

L'article intitulé "Oswald Spengler" dans Stur, 1937

Il y a aujourd’hui plus d’un an, mourait à Munich l’un des hommes qui ont le plus fait, dans la crise profonde de la défaite allemande, pour maintenir intact le moral du pays et rendre possible un redressement : celui que nous voyons se développer sous nos yeux. Cet homme est en outre un cerveau de premier ordre, un de ces savants gigantesques, — comme il en apparaît quelques-uns au cours de l’histoire de l’Europe, depuis Roger Bacon jus­qu’à Vinci, Descartes, Newton… — sorte de Titan spiri­tuel, sur les découvertes duquel repose, avouée ou non, presque toute l’orientation de la pensée contemporaine.

Ce philosophe — puisque les travaux historiques d’Oswald SPENGLER sont en quelque sorte « enveloppés » dans une philosophie — a été cependant assez peu remar­qué en France, dans la période qui a suivi immédiatement la dernière guerre . En Allemagne, son Déclin de l’Occident (Untergang des Abendlandes) a connu un succès sans précédent pour un ouvrage aussi sévère, puisqu’il dépasse aujourd’hui le 15e mille — succès d’actualité, mais également succès de profondeur. Le livre venait « à son heure », au moment où la défaite semblait contredire les aspirations de la grande majorité des Alle­mands et les livrer au désespoir ; il leur démontrait, par l’alliance d’une immense érudition et d’une pensée rigou­reuse, l’inanité de la philosophie du progrès généralement admise et les voies qu’ils devaient adopter désormais, s’ils voulaient se relever. Aujourd’hui, les idées de Spengler ont disparu au second plan, dépassées qu’elles sont par la poussée plus apparente des sentiments de race, des mystiques de l’ordre, voire même de la pure apologie de la force. Elles n’en subsistent pas moins dans le domaine intellectuel — face à l’expansion véritablement angoissante du raisonnement matérialiste dans la masse des peuples blancs — comme l’expression profonde et authentique de tous les jeunes mouvements révolutionnaires, de ceux qui ne veulent pas subir la « mécanisation » envahissante, et qui ne la subiront pas.

Il serait temps qu’en Bretagne, cet ensemble de décou­vertes de l’ordre psychologique soit pris à sa juste valeur, que l’âme celtique soit mise désormais, et maintenue irré­médiablement, en face d’un système qui lui est si intime­ment apparenté, et qui, convenablement appliqué, peut faire jaillir son renouveau.
Oswald Spengler est né en 1880, dans la petite ville de Blankenburg-en-Harz. De confession luthérienne, comme un grand nombre de ces compatriotes, il fit des études littéraires et scientifiques très complètes aux grandes Uni­versités de Halle, Munich, Berlin, et il fut reçu docteur en philosophie en 1904 avec une thèse sur l’ancien penseur grec Héraclite d’Ephèse.

Il nous raconte lui-même, dans l’Introduction de son grand ouvrage (parag. XVI), comment il fut amené dans les années qui précèdent la guerre de 1914, à concevoir toute l’étendue de son système de l’histoire :

Les approches d’un grand conflit européen ne lui ont pas échappé, cette marche fatale des événements l’inquiète : « …En 1911, étudiant certains événements politiques du « temps présent, et les conséquences qu’on en pouvait « tirer pour l’avenir, je m’étais proposé de rassembler « quelques éléments tirés d’un horizon plus large. » En historien, il tente de comprendre sans parti-pris, de s’expliquer les tendances actuelles à l’aide de son expé­rience des faits anciens : « …Au cours de ce travail, d’abord restreint, la conviction s’était faite en moi que, pour comprendre réellement notre époque, il fallait une documentation beaucoup plus vaste… Je vis clairement qu’un problème politique ne pouvait pas se comprendre par la politique même et que des éléments essentiels, qui y jouent un rôle très profond, ne se manifestent souvent d’une manière concrète que dans le domaine de l’art, souvent même uniquement dans la forme des idées… Ainsi, le thème primitif prit des proportions considérables. »

L’histoire de l’Europe lui apparaît dès lors sous un jour tout nouveau : « …Je compris qu’un fragment d’histoire ne pouvait être réellement éclairci avant que le mystère de l’histoire universelle en général ne fût lui-même tiré au clair…; Je vis le présent (la guerre mondiale imminente) sous un jour tout différent. Ce n’était plus une figure exceptionnelle, qui n’a lieu qu’une fois…, mais le type d’un tournant de l’histoire qui avait depuis des siècles sa place prédéterminée. »

Un système s’est fait en son esprit, qui ne lui laisse plus de doutes sur la marche générale de l’histoire — et point seulement celle de notre civilisation européenne : « …Plus de doute… : l’identité d’abord bizarre, puis évidente, entre la perspective de la peinture à l’huile, l’imprimerie, le système de crédit, les armes à feu, la musique contrepointique et, d’autre part, la statue nue, la polis, la monnaie grecque d’argent, en tant qu’expressions diverses d’un seul et même principe psychique. » Chaque civilisation suit un cours qui lui est propre, avec une rigueur entière et véritablement impressionnante.

Du même coup, il a saisi le sens profond de l’inquiétude de l’homme moderne et il en ressent comme une assurance, délivré qu’il est de ses manifestations multiples et con­tradictoires : « …Une foule de questions et de réponses très passionnées, paraissant aujourd’hui dans des milliers de livres et de brochures, mais éparpillées, isolées, ne dépassant pas l’horizon d’une spécialité, et qui par conséquent enthousiasment, oppressent, embrouillent, mais sans libérer, marquent cette grande crise… Citons la décadence de l’art, le doute croissant sur la valeur de la science ; les problèmes ardus nés de la victoire de la ville mondiale sur la campagne : dénatalité, exode rural, rang social du prolétariat en fluctuation ; la crise du matérialisme, du socialisme, du parlementarisme, l’attitude de l’individu envers l’Etat ; le problème de la propriété et celui du mariage, qui en dépend ; …Chacun y avait deviné quelque chose, personne n’a prouvé, de son point de vue étroit, la solution unique générale qui planait dans l’air depuis Nietzsche… »

« …La solution se présenta nettement à mes yeux, en traits gigantesques, avec une entière nécessité intérieure, reposant sur un principe unique qui restait à trouver, qui m’avait hanté et passionné depuis ma jeunesse et qui m’affligeait parce que j’en sentais l’existence sans pouvoir l’embrasser. C’est ainsi que naquit, d’une occasion quelque peu fortuite, ce livre… Le thème restreint est donc une analyse du déclin de la culture européenne d’Occident, répandue aujourd’hui sur toute la surface du globe. »

Tout l’essentiel de la théorie spenglérienne de l’histoire est exposé en trois tableaux synoptiques, au début du premier tome de son « Déclin de l’Occident »  : On y suit une comparaison systématique du développement, sur 1000 années environ, des deux civilisations gréco-romain (Antiquité) et européenne (Occident), du triple point de vue de la pensée abstraite, de l’art et des formes du gouvernement. Il en ressort la notion de l’âge des civilisations : une phase de jeunesse, notre Gothique (Moyen Age), à laquelle succède la maturité, notre Baroque (Epoque Moderne), puis la vieillesse au milieu de laquelle nous vivons (Epoque Contemporaine). C’est la même succession des formes doriennes, puis ioniennes, puis « romaines » dans le monde méditerranéen depuis les temps homériques jusqu’à l’avènement d’Auguste ? Des parallèles avec ce que nous savons des philosophie hindoues, de l’art égyp­tien ou des révolutions de l’ancienne Chine confirment cette impression du « cyclisme » de l’histoire humaine.

Le corps même de l’ouvrage n’est qu’une longue et savante justification de ce qui vient d’être avancé : justification métaphysique, en un premier tome, de divers pro­blèmes logiques soulevés par un pareil système; en parti­culier celui de la continuité de la notion de Nombre à travers les diverses civilisations ; d’autre part, la définition de l’idée historique du Destin face à la Causalité scienti­fique… Un second tome renferme la justification érudite de plusieurs des assertions historiques du système : en particulier, l’existence d’une civilisation « arabe » durant le premier millénaire de notre Ere qui est en effet l’époque de floraison des grandes religions universelles de souche « sémitique » (christianisme, manichéisme, islam, judaïs­me talmudique) . Spengler ne distingue pas moins de huit grandes civilisations qui se sont succédées en divers points du globe jusqu’à nos jours: civilisations égyptienne, mésopotamienne, chinoise, hindoue, gréco-romaine, orien­tale-arabe, mexicaine et occidentale-européenne, celle que nous vivons encore. Il tend à réserver le nom de «culture» à la période première de ces civilisations, pleine encore de sève et d’invention, pour laisser plus spécialement le nom de « civilisation » a leur phase de dissolution, quand disparait, dans l’impuissance, tout ce que des ancêtres vigoureux ont créé.

Il ne convient pas de surestimer l’originalité du sys­tème : pareil sentiment du cycle, de la fatalité, se retrouve à travers toute la spéculation germanique voire même européenne, depuis la foi calviniste en la Prédestination jusqu’au moyen nietzschéen du « retour éternel ». Et l’ancienne littérature des Celtes d’Irlande n’est-elle pas l’ex­pression la plus absolue de ce sens du destin, héroïquement accepté ? C’est Spengler lui-même qui nous avertit de ce qu’il doit à Nietzsche dont il a seulement, dit-il, « changé les échappées en aperçus ». De façon plus générale, cette pensée d’historien se rattache à tout le mouvement de spé­culation sur le temps, sur la durée, aux diverses « philosophies de la vie » fort en honneur depuis le début du siècle et dont H. Bergson serait en France le plus illustre repré­sentant («L’Evolution créatrice»). W. Dilthey, en Alle­magne, s’était engagé dans des voies similaires dès 1883, par sa curieuse «Introduction aux sciences morales». Nombreux ont été les historiens, les ethnologues allemands qui, dans le même temps, se sont efforcés de rechercher les lois de l’histoire universelle d’accord avec les résul­tats les plus poussés des sciences d’érudition : notons le grand explorateur africain Léo Frobenius, auteur d’un ou­vrage fort remarqué . A Spengler était réservé, semble-t-il, de les trouver et de les exprimer, pour la première fois, avec une netteté irréfutable .

Là, réside la nouveauté absolue de l’œuvre, comme sa valeur immense dans le domaine de la pensée non moins que de la pratique. Avant lui bien des penseurs, depuis Montesquieu, Herder… jusqu’à Hegel et Auguste Comte plus près de nous, s’étaient bien hasardés à esquisser une « philosophie de l’histoire », très littéraire encore. Karl Marx s’était approché le plus près d’une rigueur scienti­fique, dans son « Capital », lorsqu’il avait bâti toute une interprétation de l’histoire moderne sur la loi du « maté­rialisme historique ». Hegel, il y a un siècle aujourd’hui, avait, d’autre part, parfaitement défini en logique les con­ditions et les limites de toute interprétation de l’Histoire. De là au système d’idées absolument clos et, de plus, par­faitement concret, tangible, expérimentable, que forme l’in­tuition spenglérienne, il y a un monde ! C’est une forme nouvelle de pensée, un instrument nouveau que Spengler met entre les mains des peuples blancs, une exploration dans le domaine du temps : non pas une quelconque magie, il s’agit de possibilités psychologiques nouvelles que dé­gage aussitôt en nous la conscience de la fin pressante de la civilisation que nous subissons, en particulier celle d’en­visager de sang-froid les rapports des diverses nations et races de la planète… la possession de l’histoire entière est mise au service de notre avenir. Il ne faut voir là rien d’autre que la réplique, à trois siècles de distance, à l’ex­ploration tentée dans les espaces sidéraux par les premiers astronomes munis d’instruments à longue portée. « Une découverte copernicienne sur le terrain de l’Histoire», a-t-on pu dire (voir le § VI de l’Introduction). Spengler doit ce sens aigu de la relativité des événements à l’intérêt qu’il porte aux civilisations exotiques, non classiques, si souvent négligées par les historiens. Pour lui, une création en vaut une autre : l’architecture de l’ancienne Egypte n’est pas inférieure à notre calcul infinitésimal, la vieille morale de Confucius pas moins positive que toute la so­phistique rationnelle des socratiques,… il ne craint pas de mettre en parallèle pour leur rôle moral le bouddhisme primitif, le stoïcisme antique, et notre socialisme contem­porain ! Le coup d’oeil est devenu sans parti-pris, mais combien plus pénétrant !

Ce n’est pas aujourd’hui encore que sera saisie dans son ampleur la répercussion révolutionnaire de pareilles nou­veautés dans le monde des idées, ou — pour parler mé­taphysique — la possibilité d’ériger désormais en un sys­tème viable le monde intuitif des poètes, « l’univers-histoire », en face de « l’univers-nature », du règne de la science, si exclusivement tyrannique encore à l’heure ac­tuelle (l’opposition est esquissée au chapitre 2 du tome I) ! Mais, au simple contact de ces doctrines, des sentiments confus se réveillent en nous, un monde mystique tend à reparaître, qui dut exister dans la foi du moyen-âge et que l’éducation classique de la Renaissance avait peu à peu enfoui. Car enfin, est-ce bien le livre qui a bouleversé le monde d’après-guerre ? ou n’est-il pas seulement le pre­mier éclat, la première et insolite traduction littéraire de cette résurrection de l’âme du Nord, qui tend à se faire jour avec la violence d’un élément ?

Le tome I du «Déclin de l’Occident» parut en 1918 et Spengler en dédiait alors la préface aux armées allemandes, espérant que le livre ne serait pas « tout à fait indigne des sacrifices militaires… » Après l’écroulement, parmi « la misère et le dégoût de ce temps », l’édition de l’ouvrage tout entier (1922) apparut d’abord comme un instrument de combat…

STUR n° 11 Octobre 1937

Short URL: http://breizatao.com/?p=7917

 

Periplo europeo

Periplo europeo

 

Alberto Buela                                                                           

 

A pedido de algunos amigos y sabiendo que no diremos nada nuevo sobre Europa que no se conozca hoy al instante a través de los múltiples mass media, vamos a intentar algunas observaciones.

 

A cierta altura de la vida, como es nuestro caso,  hombres ni viejos  ni jóvenes, cuando nos llegan un conjunto de invitaciones[1] para perorar en tres países europeos que nos son afines como Portugal, España y Francia, dudamos en ir porque ya no tenemos la voluntad de encarar lo imprevisto que supone un largo periplo, pero además porque no sabemos si lo que vayamos a decir será entendido o tendrá algún efecto.

Se nos pasó la época de viajar a Europa a estudiar con los grandes maestros que hubo in illo tempore, en mi caso con el erudito, Pierre Aubenque o el investigador Pierre Hadot o con el filósofo Pierre Boutang.

Se nos pasó también el tiempo de ir a enseñar curricularmente en una facultad determinada, trabajando de profesor de filosofía, como nos sucedió con alguna universidad europea.

Este viaje era distinto, pues como nos observó el buen amigo y mejor filósofo oriental Mauricio Langón: ¡Qué bueno lo del viaje! Unos pocos "nuestroamericanos" fueron a Europa a aprender (modelo: Simón Rodríguez), muchos más a joder (no doy ejemplos), otros a copiar (bien y mal, para bien y para mal), otros a refugiarse y volver, o a refugiarse para morir por no poder volver (tampoco doy ejemplos, por obvios). Pero... ¿ir de arquegueta?  ¿a decir lo propio, ni siquiera a enseñar? ¿a discutir de igual a igual? ¡Vamos! ¡Gozala!!!! No siempre se da... Y, por contrapartida, no te dejes engrupir que nuestra vida está acá.

 

Recorrimos Portugal de norte a sur, España de Madrid al norte y de este a oeste hasta Barcelona, en tanto que Francia lo hicimos del sur hasta Bretaña y de Normandía a París. La mayor parte del recorrido en tren, luego en auto y la menor parte en micro. Lo primero que nos llamó la atención, a nosotros conocedores de nuestro suelo, es no hallar en semejante recorrido ni un solo árbol caído y todos los campos trabajados sin ninguna gran extensión baldía o abandonada. Portugal, España y Francia si fuera por lo que se ve de sus campos son países poderosos. No se nota despilfarro ni trabajos al ñudo.

Lo cual nos muestra a las claras que existe una desintonía entre los gobernantes y sus pueblos. Los representantes no representan adecuadamente a sus representados. La crisis de representatividad es el mayor problema en estos tres países.

 

Pasemos al aspecto intelectual. Tanto los investigadores portugueses como españoles que tratamos, en general jóvenes,[2] mostraron una agudeza, profundidad y gentileza dignas de remarcar. Están activos y buscando temas nuevos, o encarar los viejos desde distintas ópticas. Tienen vida y ganas de desarrollarla. Hay como un esfuerzo por romper la retroalimentación endógena que generó la universidad de la segunda mitad del siglo XX.

Hoy al buscar temas y problemas allende la universidad se produce una eyección de vigor en ésta. Hoy estos temas son producidos por el pensamiento alternativo o no conformista como el grupo Finis Mundi en Portugal y tantos otros.

En cuanto a los investigadores franceses siguen centrados en su solipsismo y alejados de cuanto pueda interesar al hombre de nuestros días. Salvo excepciones, siguen siendo especialistas de lo mínimo, a quienes se les escapa la visión del todo: filósofo es el que ve el todo, y el que no, no lo es (Platón).

 

En orden a la vida del espíritu pudimos observar como en ciertas regiones de España y Portugal aun hoy cuando se entra a una iglesia podemos decir, con Heidegger, que habita lo sagrado. Esto también lo hemos visto en Loctudy, en la Francia profunda. Pero en general la mística masiva es el de las sociedades opulentas regidas por el dios monoteísta de mercado de consumo. Las iglesias de las ciudades medianas y grandes son museos y las calles invadidas por una abigarrada mezcla de etnias donde priman los rasgos moros, negros y orientales. La presencia islámica se nota en Madrid y Barcelona y es masiva en París, mientras que en Lisboa pasa desapercibida.

La clásica presencia judía en ciertos barrios de París hasta hace veinte años, hoy se ha prácticamente disuelto, ni por asomo tienen aquella manifestación pública casi prepotente, como la que hoy tienen en Buenos Aires.

Algo está cambiando en el meollo de Paris para que esto haya ocurrido. Montmartre desapareció y el Sacre Coeur es una feria persa. No vale la pena gastar una neurona ni un minuto del tiempo de vida en visitarlo.

 

Estará pagando Francia el hecho de traicionarse a sí misma y a sus mejores hijos como lo hizo con los diez mil harkis, argelinos fieles a ella, en la guerra de Argelia?. Irá España por el mismo camino traicionando sus mejores tradiciones permitiendo el genocidio saharaui por parte de Marruecos?

Uno no lo puede saber a ciencia cierta, pero los hechos son similares: el abandono del otro, del hermano, del compatriota, del correligionario, como dice muy bien Gibert Comte, es el principio de la decadencia.

 

Es que los hechos que conmueven al cielo no son los tsunamis culturales o político culturales, no son las grandes marchas gays, las masivas  peregrinaciones o las grandes manifestaciones de la primavera árabe. No son los grandes despliegues militares chinos ni el gigantismo norteamericano.

Los hechos que conmueven al cielo son los emblemáticos, aquellos que encierran un simbolismo mayor que pocos perciben. Son los hechos enigmáticos que solo los hombres sabios pueden descifrar. No podemos dejar de pensar que el fundamento último del mundo es algo escondido y que siempre se manifestó en forma de enigmas.

Viene bien recordar acá lo que Aristóteles relata sobre Homero: “Homero interrogó al oráculo para saber quiénes eran sus padres y cuál su patria, y éste le respondió así: “La isla de Ios es patria de tu madre y te acogerá cuando mueras; pero tu guárdate del enigma de los hombres jóvenes”. No mucho después llegó a Ios, allí sentado en la escollera vio a unos jóvenes pescadores que se acercaban a la playa y les peguntó si tenían algo. Éstos como no habían pescada nada y ante la falta de pesca se dedicaban a despiojarse, le dijeron: “Lo que hemos agarrado lo hemos dejado y lo que no hemos podido atrapar lo traemos”, aludiendo con un enigma a los piojos que habían podido agarrar y los habían matado y tirado, y los que no habían podido atrapar y los llevaban aún con ellos. Homero al no ser capaz de resolver el enigma murió de aflicción”.

El hombre común no muere de aflicción por no poder resolver un enigma pero el sabio sí, porque el sabio derrotado en un desafío a la inteligencia deja de ser sabio.

Esto observamos que esta pasando sobre todo con Francia, que apoyada en una sabiduría bimilenaria no puede resolver el enigma de este tiempo y marcha irremisiblemente hacia el propio extrañamiento de sí misma y su autodestrucción. En una palabra: Francia como Homero puede morir de aflicción.

El caso de España aparece menos grave, pues cuenta con fuerzas de reemplazo a su pérdida de vigor vital como es la masiva presencia de hispanoamericanos= bolitas, que se van a transformar con el tiempo en el verdadero katechón=obstáculo al avance del extrañamiento. Van a jugar acá el mismo papel que están jugando en Estados Unidos, en el corazón del imperialismo, donde lograron imponer el castellano como katechón al avance del inglés.

El resto, como la cuestión catalana o vasca es absolutamente anecdótico pues la mejor universidad de lengua castellana en ciencias de la comunicación y la educación sigue siendo la Deutso en el país vasco y en la Universidad de Barcelona se sigue publicando y enseñando en el idioma nacional sin ningún impedimento por parte de nadie.

Los pueblos catalán y vascos no se van suicidar dejando de usar el español, cuando hoy se ha transformado en la primera lengua de Occidente con 100 millones de parlantes más que el inglés.[3] Todo este revuelo es más un uso político partidocrático y circunstancial que una realidad vital. Al respecto ya nos alertaba Platón: una cosa es lo que aparece (hoy lo mediático, los intereses políticos) y otra cosa es lo que es.

 

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[1]  Y la publicación en Madrid de mi libro Disyuntivas de nuestro tiempo (ensayos de metapolítica) por Ediciones Barbarroja, dirigida por un editor que no piensa en el lucro sino que aun se mueve por ideales.

[2] Pudimos conocer en la Escuela de filosofía de Oviedo al más significativo filósofo español vivo y en actividad, don Gustavo Bueno, que es como un gran parapeto a la mediocridad, a lo políticamente correcto y al pensamiento único. Un orgullo para todos aquellos que hacemos filosofía en español.

[3] Merece ser mencionado acá el Movimiento internacional lusófono dirigido por Renato Epifanio, con quien estuvimos, y que desde el 2008 trabaja en la difusión y normalización del portugués en  los ocho Estados que lo tienen como lengua oficial (Portugal, Brasil, Mozambíque, Angola, Sao Tomé e Principe, Timor Oriental, Guinéa Bisau, y Cabo Verde) y en los cuatro enclaves (Macao, Goa, Damao y Diu) que suman un total de 270 millones de personas. Es que la expansión del portugués beneficia al castellano como la de éste a aquél, pues forman un mismo katechon al avance del inglés. Los franceses tendrían que apercibirse de este beneficio colateral, pero no están en condiciones ni intelectuales ni espirituales de hacerlo.

"MERIDIEN ZERO" RENCONTRE ERIC WERNER

"MERIDIEN ZERO" RENCONTRE ERIC WERNER

Méridien Zéro a reçu Eric Werner politologue et essayiste suisse pour évoquer avec lui ses analyses critiques de la société libérale contemporaine.

A la barre Jean-Louis Roumégace et le sieur Wilsdorf.

Lord Tesla à la technique

Pour écouter: http://www.meridien-zero.com/archive/2012/10/05/emission-n-113-meridien-zero-rencontre-eric-werner.html

Différence sexuée et orientation sexuelle : ne pas tout confondre

Différence sexuée et orientation sexuelle : ne pas tout confondre

par Pierre LE VIGAN

La protestation de députés U.M.P. vis-à-vis de la nouvelle rédaction des manuels de Première en Sciences de la vie et de la terre (S.V.T.) amène, à nouveau, à s’interroger sur une polémique où la stupidité n’est pas d’un seul côté.

L’émission « Répliques » de France Culture, du 8 octobre 2011, a encore abordé ce débat sous le titre « Théorie du genre, différence des sexes ».

De quoi s’agit-il ? Les manuels de Première en S.V.T. indiquent « si l’identité sexuelle et les rôles sexuels et ses stéréotypes dans la société appartiennent à la sphère publique, l’orientation sexuelle appartient à la sphère privée ». Paradoxe : affirmer dans un manuel public que « l’orientation sexuelle appartient à la sphère privée » est quelque peu contradictoire. Mais l’essentiel est ailleurs. L’identité sexuée c’est pour l’immense majorité d’entre nous le genre sexuel, masculin ou féminin, qui nous est assigné par la nature, ou si on préfère, le hasard ou encore le destin. L’ambiguïté anatomique est ici très rare et donc l’identité sexuée est pour l’immense majorité un non-problème. Elle est évidente. À côté de cela, on parle parfois d’une identité sexuelle, qui serait plus ouverte. Si on veut dire par là que, dans la psychologie de chacun, cœxistent des éléments féminins et des éléments masculins, c’est exact. Mais la notion d’identité sexuelle tend plutôt à introduire de la confusion. Ce qu’il faut mettre en rapport avec l’identité sexuée, c’est bien plutôt la notion d’orientation sexuelle. Or celle-ci est effectivement ouverte, un homme peut aimer les hommes, en tout cas les préférer. Idem pour une femme qui peut préférer ses semblables au sexe opposé. Ce que nous apprend la sociologie la plus élémentaire, c’est tout de même que cette orientation ne concerne rarement plus de 10 % d’une population. Elle est marginale comme celle des collectionneurs de timbres ou des passionnés d’histoire napoléonienne, ce qui bien entendu ne dit rien de sa valeur ou de non-valeur.

Soyons clair : l’idée de discriminer les homosexuels est antipathique, l’idée de les recenser aussi – ce qui paradoxalement invalide l’idée défendue par certains homosexuels d’imposer le « outing », déclaration comme quoi on est ou on a été à l’occasion praticien de l’homosexualité. Pour ma part,  je trouve souhaitable d’éduquer au rejet de l’homophobie, c’est-à-dire à combattre l’idée que les homosexuels seraient moins respectables (ou moins courageux, ou moins franc, moins loyaux, etc.) que d’autres. Cela fait partie des multiples aspects de la morale civique, et d’ailleurs de l’intelligence la plus élémentaire. L’important est de ne pas tout confondre. Or une tendance actuelle tend à dire que les orientations sexuelles ne sont que le fruit d’un conditionnement culturel et qu’il faut combattre celui-ci. Dans cette perspective, c’est toute la littérature enfantine, ou une bonne partie de la littérature tout court qui font partie de ce conditionnement. On voit l’absurdité. L’histoire de l’homme comme créateur d’œuvres littéraires et artistiques est condamnée. Or l’histoire de l’homme n’est pas autre chose que l’expression de ce qui lui est propre anthropologiquement. Le genre, c’est-à-dire être homme ou femme fait partie de l’identité sexuée et un homosexuel homme reste du point de vue de la sexuation pleinement un homme, sauf cas très rares des transsexuels. L’orientation sexuelle est bien autre chose que l’identité sexuée c’est-à-dire le genre, masculin ou féminin, elle relève bien souvent d’une histoire personnelle que la société – et, pour le coup, nous serons d’accord avec le manuel de première, – n’a pas à connaître; c’est une affaire privée. Voir dans le genre, comme le font les gender studies (« études de genre ») bénéficiant avec une folie inconscience d’une chaire à Sciences Po une pure histoire de rapports de force, et en clair de domination des schémas masculins, c’est un contresens total. C’est surtout du constructivisme anthropologique dans la filiation directe du communisme le plus stalinien. Que l’identité sexuée ait à voir non seulement avec l’anatomie mais avec les sédimentations culturelles, c’est une évidence et cela prouve une fois de plus que la nature de l’homme, c’est aussi d’avoir une culture : l’homme est un animal naturel et culturel. Mais que les sédimentations culturelles soient l’origine – et une origine soi-disant « artificielle » – des identités sexuées est absurde.

Freud faisait l’éloge des « belles différences ». L’écrivain Michel Schneider s’attache aussi à la valeur symbolique et structurante pour l’homme de ces « belles différences ». Que la pratique homosexuelle, prédominante ou occasionnelle, s’inscrive dans une différence à l’intérieur de ces « belles différences », c’est une chose. Que ces orientations et ces pratiques puissent aboutir à nier les identités sexuées elles-mêmes ce n’est pas sérieusement défendable.

Pierre Le Vigan

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

URL to article: http://www.europemaxima.com/?p=2251

Ce dimanche Méridien Zéro reçoit Thibault Isabel

Méridien Zéro a reçu Thibault Isabel, philosophe, pour évoquer avec lui ses travaux et réflexions sur les maux humains qui traversent les sociétés occidentales.

DIFFUSION DE L'EMISSION

LE DIMANCHE 21 OCTOBRE

http://www.meridien-zero.com/

Pour écouter:

http://www.meridien-zero.com/archive/2012/10/19/emission-n-115-un-monde-a-bout-de-souffle.html

 

Dugin Gets in the Ring

Whither the Fourth Political Theory?

By Colin Liddell

 

Ex: http://www.alternativeright.com/

 

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!

Despite 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.

The Loss of Reality

The Ideological Caste and its Tyranny

 

http://www.alternativeright.com/

 

By David Hamilton

 

There is a distinction between natural and artificial societies. Natural societies grow organically within a group of people with a shared ancestry. This is why patriotism is natural – it grows from emotional relationships and does not need a theory or ideological underpinning. There is more to human nature than reason and the act of bonding with your people and territory is a process of feeling, instinct, intuition and other human qualities.

I live in England so I will use England as my exemplar. England has been a nation since the time of Alfred the Great, and it is an emotional, organic growth, not an intellectual agreement. Intellectual nationalism came from the Enlightenment and, like other forms of thinking derived from the Enlightenment, is theory to be applied to men and women, that is, forced on people. It is a mistake for The New Right to adopt rationalist theorising in imitation of Marxist thinkers.

Education in the liberal era emphasised ideas, with people thinking that we are in a battle of ideas, as if ideas rule the world. In actual fact the world at a Global and local level is run by rich power groups. Power groups are changing our towns and cities into something different and separating us from our culture and history. These are being made un-British. Local councillors stand for election and promise benefits to the local community. If elected they act as agents for corporations and finance. The new buildings in London are financed by money from other countries and built and designed by global corporations using imported labour while our people remain unemployed.

We are educated to be unrealistic and naïve. We are encouraged not to judge others, but the way to live safely is to assess human nature and make judgements on the suitability of others as friends or people we do business with. We are told it is prejudice to decide who to associate with, but making such decisions is essential human wisdom. To neglect this is to open oneself up to being harmed or taken advantage of.

Running a family is a practical activity, as is running a nation. The use of concrete nouns instead of abstract ones would effect how people think and would return them to reality. The abstract way of thinking was brought in by the French Revolution and has led people out of the world of reality into the realm of fantasy, because the words they think in have no substance. This is why immigrants, for instance, are thought to be the same as us, but if you believe they share the same basic human nature with us, then immigration is alarming because they are taking over our territory as earlier invasions have done.

It is their human nature to do so, as it was ours when we were in their countries. The mode of entry is not the point. The point is that, once in a country, human nature decrees that a people start claiming territory and that includes women. The widespread raping of young White girls some as young as eleven and twelve (and some Indian and Black) by the rival Muslim community is for them the taking of the spoils of war. The police and social services have been covering these child-rapes for years. They can not face the fact that their imported pets are not bringing us benefits and enriching our culture.

The use of concrete nouns instead of abstract ones would have an immense effect on how people think – it would bring them back to reality. The French Revolution and its abstract way of thinking have led people from reality into fantasy, because the words they think in have no substance.

When a world view becomes dominant it marginalises the opposing view, and that is what has happened to traditional or national conservatism. Another complication is that new Liberalism is different from Classical Liberalism. Liberalism was replaced by Cultural Marxism in the late 1960s.  They kept the name but changed the content so that there were two Liberalisms – Classical and New. New Liberals changed the nature of the ideology into what we now see as Identity Politics and Political Correctness. For example, individual rights became group rights, and that worked against us, as we are "oppressors" and the immigrants are "victims."

The Progressive way of thinking that stems from the Enlightenment marginalizes traditional systems in favour of a way of thinking that disdains the past and looks forward to a future perfection. Progressives think that we are ineluctably destined for the brotherhood of man – an obvious Utopia! This is no more than an irrational superstition, and any examination of the world around them would show that the opposite is happening. They think human nature is malleable and can be re-fashioned to fit into their ideology and future utopia.

A formal ideology is written down like a "How to" book, which tells people how to think and behave. Ideology grew out of the Enlightenment as a secular replacement for religion with a programme of correct thinking and behaving, and with intolerance for deviation. The rulers changed from an aristocratic class, based on blood and land, to a secular elite defined by their ability to think and say the right things – in other words an "Ideological Caste."

Ideological thinking starts with first principles and requires underpinnings to support or justify beliefs. Conservatism by contrast is a view of the world that grows out of our emotional bonds with our families and expands outwards through neighbourhood and community to the nation. It emanates out to Europe and the Anglosphere, though weaker. For example, we feel for the South African Boers in these days of their genocide. It is stronger at home, and a parent who wishes other children to do better than their own is perverse.

The Ideological uses of language

The elites try to change people's thinking by changing the vocabulary: the British government guidelines to the media suggest certain words about non-white crime be replaced. The words to be suppressed included immigrant, illegal immigrant, illegal asylum seeker, bogus asylum seeker, non-white, non-Christian, mixed race, half-caste, mulatto. There is the substitution of euphemistic terms for those that reflect reality, as in the official designation of Anti-Islamic activity for Muslim terrorists.

The use of Political Correctness is a way of training people to think of, and to perceive, reality in the official way. If you think differently you are a "hater," a "racist."

Ideological change of the meaning of words passes for common usage as people innocently adopt them: bigot and tolerance are prominent examples. Bigot means one who refuses to listen to the opinions of others but is misused as a connotative word that only applies to "right-wingers." A classic example of this Doublespeak was during the 2010 general election campaign when Gordon Brown described a woman who asked him about imported labour as a bigot; but he was the one being bigoted because he refused to listen to her opinions! Tolerance meant to tolerate an action or to put up with something one did not like, but is now misused to make indigenous British people passive and accept being replaced by immigrants.

We need a concrete, definite vocabulary, not vague linguistic terms like person and humanity, but terms like Englishman or Englishwoman, Welshman or Welshwoman, Scotsman or Scotswoman or Irishman or Irishwoman, boy and girl; land rather than country. They are more specific and convey a solid idea of substance; they get away from the woolly vocabulary that is a cause of our collective loss of touch with reality. This would clarify what we are referring to and make our common intercourse more realistic.

The great Welsh national anthem Land of My Fathers is a pertinent example as it makes a clear statement of debt to ancestors and suggests the piety necessary to honour what the ancestors have left us, and our obligation to hand it on to our descendants. This is embodied in the Fifth Commandment to honour thy mother and father; unless they are very cruel parents, of course.

On abstractions, the counter-revolutionary Josef de Maistre stated:  

"there is no such thing as Man in the world. In my lifetime I have seen Frenchmen, Italians, Russians, etc... I declare that I have never in my life met him; if he exists, he is unknown to me." 

Brainwashing 

A television programme Gypsy Wars contrasted a local woman with tinkers who had invaded her land, and effectively reversed the roles. The intellectual and media elites think our traditional view of the world is pathological and try to correct it for us. No young Gypsy men were shown, because they would be aggressive, and the programme makers did not want to show them as a threat; village life was not shown because that is appealing and viewers would sympathise with the woman; the woman was selected because she is not typical of rural people but was a bit eccentric and could be set up as the aggressor even though she was in fact the victim. This role-reversal was undertaken to mould the public's views and change attitudes. This was an example of how television re-structures thought in accordance with the establishment’s Progressive ideology. 

In August 2011, police closed the largest gypsy camp in Britain at Dale Farm and the biased television news reports once again left gypsy men out of their news reports. 

For years vacancies in television were only advertised in the Bourgeois-Socialist Guardian newspaper to help filter out applicants with the wrong attitudes. 

We are derided as prejudiced if we protest against the elites having us dispossessed, which is used to mean ignorant and narrow-minded, but prejudice is in fact traditional wisdom passed down by our ancestors, and is knowledge which is much broader-based than the narrow solipsism of the contemporary era. It saves us learning the hard way, and we would have been spared this dispossession if natural prejudices had been followed after the last war. 

The great Conservative satirist Michael Wharton would have recommended Prejudometers. 

We are being dehumanised and made a non-people. We must abandon this inculcated niceness, this apologetic approach and assert ourselves. We need to give our people a sense of their collective worth for the common good, and succeeding generations need to be built up to inherit the responsibility for our life and culture. The media are occupying them with trivialities like what to wear, how to get your hair done and where to have a tat! It is done to get their money, and is morally evil, as they are being debauched by temptations and distractions. 

Government from Brussels, economic control by global corporations, and Afro-Asian colonization is part of the progressives’ new dream for an ideal future, but in practice it disinherits our children of community and association with their own kind, which we are duty bound to preserve for them. 

Throughout history wars have been fought for territory, and by allowing newcomers to stake claims, our emasculated 'elite' are encouraging them to fight for yet more. Our rulers are handing our ancestral homeland to invaders and protecting their welfare over and above that of their own people. 

MPs also want children taught how to have relationships and make "informed decisions" about when to have sex. Propagandising homosexuality is another threat to our demographics.

A world view to unite us 

How do we counter the dominant ideology? The way to develop a new world view is to gather examples from the world around us, of what is really happening as a result of, say, immigration, collate it and form our version of reality. The first thing is to understand human nature and what people are capable of doing to one another. We also need to consider what gives life meaning, and this leads to the idea that nationalism is about our nation and a nation means a group of racially linked people with whom we belong by emotional attachments. I openly admit to being a racialist because I believe in racial differences between people, but do not hate other peoples and do not accept the Marxist pejorative term "racist." 

Power groups are changing our towns and cities into something different and separating us from our culture and history. We must not endlessly rehearse what has come to pass but what we are going to do. How will people cope in the social disorder the elites are plunging us into.

 We have a responsibility for our kin and a duty to them. We have a duty to pass on what we have inherited to our children, as they, in turn, will have a duty to their children. We owe a debt to our ancestors who bequeathed to us our nation and culture and we must honour that. 

The elites promote a version of progress and see the past as obsolete. But the present grows from the past as the future grows from the present, which is why we have to get things right now, in the beginning of our revival. 

The attitude of those who control public life is to transfer power away from their own people and disinherit their descendants for the benefit of rival communities. We are morally obliged to put our people first, as we do with our families, even when foreigners are more in need of help. Supporting outsiders against our own people is morally wrong. 

We have natural bonds with our families, a responsibility for them and a duty to them as we have a duty to pass on what we have inherited to our children, as they, in turn, will have a duty to their children. This extends to our fellow nationals who share the same ancestral descent. We owe a debt to our ancestors who bequeathed to us our nation and culture, and we must honour that. 

A people need the numinous things in life – religion, art, culture, a wholesome countryside. The numinous is a feeling of, and a need for, the sacred, the holy, and the transcendent; not just the material and the hedonistic. 

Simple people say, "So what? It doesn’t matter if different people take over!" This shows a failure to understand human nature. They think it will be painless, like handing the baton on in a relay race, but examples from history like the Norman Conquest, show the oppression the conquered have to endure; other countries like South Africa and Zimbabwe show what will befall our children if the evil elites are not countered. 

The ideology of multi-racialism was a righteous reaction to the opening of the camps and the watchword was, "It must never happen again." This has come full circle and now the Jews are being persecuted in France, Sweden and elsewhere by imported Muslims. Everyone must have seen Muslims brandishing placards that read: "God Bless Hitler" and chanting "Jews to the gas!"  They must know that The Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion is on sale in Muslim shops all over not only England but Europe. I have written elsewhere and repeat it here: if David Cameron and Ed Milliband and the other fantasists succeed in getting Turkey into the EU the number of Muslims will be so large that the EU forces will not be able to protect European Jews from, I dare say it, possible extermination. This has been imported by the elites who are not facing the reality of what they are doing. 

Unlike the rational ideologies that have been manifold since the Enlightenment, our views derive from an emotional and instinctive relationship with our people and our territory. It is more profound than rationalising an ideology to be learnt from a book because it grows from natural, human instinct and emotion. 

To give favourable treatment to aliens over our own people is morally wrong. A nation’s manners, morals, religions, political institutions, and social structures, are inherited from its ancestors and our loyalties begin with affection within families and this emanates outward to neighbourhood and nation. We belong to our kin, above strangers. 

Look at data from the Office of National Statistics (which doesn't take into account the births to mothers born here), then look at your children and ask yourselves: "Am I betraying my children? Where will they live and work?"

Recommended Reading

A conservative classic: The Quest for Community by Robert A.Nisbit 

For the New Left's takeover of Liberalism: The Politics of the Forked Tongue by Aidan Rankin 

For Ideology: Suicide of the West by James Burnham.

For the conservative interpretation of history: Anything by Keith Feiling

In Defence of the Natural Society by David Hamilton

 

The Manly Barbarian

The Manly Barbarian:
Masculinity & Exploit in Veblen’s Theory of the Leisure Class

By Jack Donovan

Thorstein Veblen’s Theory of the Leisure Class was written as a treatise on economics, but in pieces—like the work of Freud and Darwin—it reads today like an early stab at evolutionary psychology. I decided to dig into it after reading Venkatesh Rao’s brilliant essay “The Return of the Barbarian ^[2].” Rao updated some of Veblen’s basic ideas and used them as a jumping off point for an argument about conflicts between sedentary cultures (which invest everything into civilization and become completely dependent on it) and pastoral nomads (who are used to thinking on their feet). I was interested in the way that the traits Veblen assigned to Barbarians overlap with the archetypal essence of masculinity I developed in The Way of Men ^[3]. “Manliness-as-barbarianism” offers a muscular way to expand an anti-modern, extra-Christian understanding of men and masculinity.

Veblen’s opening “Introductory” essay is alive, colorfully written and packed with interesting ideas. The rest of the book, although peppered with smart and timeless observations, suffers from a middle class bookworm’s ressentiment toward both “delinquent” bullies and predatory elitists (who he thinks have a lot in common) as well as a lot of rambling, convoluted writing and thinking about classes which no longer exist in quite the same forms.

His basic theory rests on the idea that humans were once relatively peaceful savages who acquired a predatory habit. These peaceful savages—“noble savages,” you might say—shared work and resources, and could afford no class of individuals who abstained from certain kinds of work. However, as men developed the knack for preying on other living creatures, including other groups of men, divisions of labor occurred. Men are generally better suited to hunting and fighting, so hunting and fighting became man’s work, and women were left to do the work which remained. This gendered split of labor occurs at the “lower” stage of barbarism, when technology has advanced to the point where hunting and fighting are feasible, and opportunities for hunting and fighting occur with enough regularity for the action to become culturally important to the group. For instance, an isolated island with plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables, but no pigs to hunt, would be less conducive to the predatory “habit” of mind.

According to Veblen, the barbarian man’s work is characterized by exploit. He “reaps what he has not strewn.” The manly barbarian takes what he wants with a violent hand and an iron will.

More broadly, the work of men deals with animate phenomena. Veblen stresses that, to the barbarian, that which is “animate” is not merely what is “alive.” Like his contemporary Thomas Carlyle, he recognized that our forefathers inhabited a far more magical world. As Carlyle wrote in Heroes and Hero-Worship:

To the wild, deep-hearted man all was yet new, not veiled under names or formulas; it stood naked, flashing in on him there, beautiful, awful, unspeakable…

. . . The world, which is now divine only to the gifted, was then divine to whosoever would turn his eye upon it.

The angry volcano, the changeable sea, the exclamatory thunderclap and the snap of lighting—each one as animated as a bear or a snake or a herd of aurochs. Before our age of conceit, the whole world was alive in a way. The task of man was to challenge and master the world, to dare and to fight against its untamed fury. To leap a crevasse, to climb a mountain, to tramp through the white powder that falls from the sky. In Veblen’s words, the work of men was work that demanded “prowess,” not mere “diligence” and “drudgery.”

According to him, “virtually the whole range of industrial employments is an outgrowth of what is classed as women’s work in the primitive barbarian community.” Men reserved their strength for dynamic activities. Mere chores—the preparation of food, the production of clothing, the repetitive execution of menial processes—were assigned to women, to the weak and infirm, to slaves.

Masculinity must be proved, and the work that demonstrates strength, courage and mastery, bestows proof. A fresh carcass, a rack of antlers, a string of ears, your enemy’s wife. These proofs of exploit convey achievement and status. The trophy is physical evidence of honor and successful initiation into the hierarchy of men, a symbolic representation of dominance demonstrated in conflict with men or beasts. Veblen wrote:

Under this common-sense barbarian appreciation of worth or honor, the taking of life—the killing of formidable competitors, whether brute or human—is honorable in the highest degree. And this high office of slaughter, as an expression of the slayer’s prepotence, casts a glamour of worth over every act of slaughter and over all of the tools and accessories of the act. Arms are honorable, and the use of them, even in seeking the life of the meanest creatures of the fields, becomes an honorific employment. At the same time, employment in industry becomes correspondingly odious, and, in the common-sense apprehension, the handling of the tools and implements of industry falls beneath the dignity of able-bodied men. Labor becomes irksome.

The accumulation of objects of honor becomes an end in itself, and Veblen’s economic theory is based on the idea that as civilizations become more complex, symbols and the appearance of honor become more important than honorific deeds themselves. The upper classes make ostentatious and often wasteful displays of wealth as a matter of habit, and—especially in the open-caste system of American society—the lower and middle classes toil to gain honor by attaining high-end goods. Hence, the popular obsession with logos, luxury vehicles and all our sundry forms of bling and swag.

More relevant to the discussion of masculinity, however, is Veblen’s breakdown of manly and unmanly work. As the drudgery of industry among those engaged in lackluster occupations increases in efficiency, a surplus of goods allows particularly talented or well-born men to devote themselves completely to tasks which produce little of tangible value, but which deal specifically with the animate world and the application or management of exploit. These non-industrial occupations include government, warfare, religious observances, and sports. In the barbarian world, where manly exploit is righteousness, the highest status men are warriors, priests, and kings. Athletics include abstract rehearsals for war and the practice or demonstration of skills applicable to hunting, fighting or mastering nature. The rightful role of the barbarian priest—as storyteller, shaman, philosopher, scribe and artist—is to place the exploits of men in the magical, animate world. The barbarian priest provides the barbarian warrior with a compelling narrative. As Mishima might say, the priest finds the poetry in the splash of blood.

Veblen’s take on the predatory culture of barbarian thugs—and evidence of it in the aristocracy of his time—was somewhat snide. He was clearly biased in favor of the sensible, hard-working middle class, who he saw as being less concerned with violence and exploit, and more in touch with the peaceful ways of pre-barbarian savages. Today, there is every reason to believe that tribal violence has always been golden ^[4] to males, as it is even in our close ancestors, the chimpanzees. The supposedly non-violent savages studied by the scientists and explorers of Veblen’s era are more reasonably understood as culs-de-sac in human cultural development. In zero scarcity pockets of peace and plenty, men tend to lapse into softness and mother-worship. Men who are attracted to the barbarian way of life—or the idea of it—continually warn against this tendency. Settled as we are in this suburban bonobo cul-de-sac of a global empire, the majority of modern men can only daydream about an age of blood and poetry, and listen to stories about the days of high adventure ^[5].

If we put aside fantasies of noble savages and recognize the barbarian as the father of all men, his interest in exploit and preference for demonstrations of prowess over mere industry help to explain some of the conflicts between manliness and our modern industrial (and post-industrial) way of life. Anti-modern passions in men, while often couched in talk of the greatness of dying or past civilizations, are also often connected to a yearning for a return to the “barbarian values” of blood, honor, magic, poetry, adventure and exploit which are forbidden to all but a few in our “evolved” modern world.

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

URL to article: http://www.counter-currents.com/2012/10/the-manly-barbarian/

Julius Evola e l’esperienza del Gruppo di Ur

Julius Evola e l’esperienza del Gruppo di Ur.

La storia “occulta” dell’Italia del Novecento

Stefano Arcella

Ex: http://www.centrostudilaruna.it/

In Italia gli anni fra il 1927 ed il 1929 sono segnati da una vicenda spirituale, esoterica e culturale, sconosciuta al grande pubblico e poco esaminata dagli storici, ma che, nondimeno, è una esperienza importante perché é la più significativa della cultura esoterica italiana (ed anche europea) del Novecento: il Gruppo di Ur, diretto dal filosofo Julius Evola – e l’omonima rivista Ur negli anni 1927-28, poi divenuta Krur nel 1929. Di questo gruppo esoterico facevano parte le personalità più significative dell’esoterismo italiano di quel tempo, quali Arturo Reghini (studioso del pitagorismo e fondatore del Rito Filosofico Italiano), Giulio Parise, Giovanni Colazza (antroposofo, interlocutore diretto e fiduciario di Rudolf Steiner in Italia), insieme ad altri insigni esoteristi quali, ad esempio, Guido De Giorgio, il poeta Girolamo Comi, forse lo psicanalista Emilio Servadio (ma la partecipazione di quest’ultimo è controversa), il kremmerziano Ercole Quadrelli e vari altri altri.

La peculiarità di questo sodalizio stava nell’essere un momento ed un tentativo di sintesi fra varie correnti di spiritualità esoterica, quindi élitaria, selettiva, non accessibile a tutti. Tale sintesi veniva cercata anzitutto sul piano spirituale, “magico-operativo”, poi anche su quello dell’elaborazione culturale, in termini di dottrina esoterica, quale si esprimeva sulla rivista Ur-Krur. Erano infatti presenti nel gruppo una certa corrente massonica (impersonata da Reghini e Parise) che intendeva riportare la massoneria ai suoi significati originari, depurandola delle degenerazioni profane e mondane che l’avrebbero caratterizzata dall’illuminismo francese in poi, insieme alla corrente di ispirazione kremmerziana (impersonata dall’esoterista che sulla rivista Ur si firmava Abraxa), richiamantesi cioè agli insegnamenti di Giuliano Kremmerz (fondatore della Fratellanza Terapeutica di Myriam) alla corrente antroposofica, fino a quella dell’esoterismo cristiano. Evola impersona la linea di un paganesimo integrale distante sia dall’indirizzo massonico (col quale vi fu una rottura nel 1928), sia dall’esoterismo cristiano.

Ciò che noi conosciamo di questa esperienza lo evinciamo dai contenuti della rivista, nonché da quanto lo stesso Evola racconta nel suo libro autobiografico Il Cammino del Cinabro.

Diamo al lettore un sia pur sommario inquadramento storico-culturale per contestualizzare il senso e la funzione di Ur. Siamo nell’Italia del fascismo-regime, per dirla col linguaggio di Renzo De Felice. Le leggi speciali che introducono il regime a partito unico sono del 1926. Gli anni di Ur sono quelli delle trattative fra Stato e Chiesa per risolvere la questione romana, rimasta irrisolta dal 1870 con l’annesso problema del rapporto fra cattolici e Stato unitario.

Sul piano internazionale, il Trattato di Versailles del 1919 ha messo in ginocchio la Germania ed ha lasciato nell’opinione pubblica italiana un profondo e diffuso senso di frustrazione per quella che viene considerata la “vittoria mutilata”. L’economia internazionale è alla vigilia di una crisi – quella di Wall Street del 1929, che influirà profondamente sullo sviluppo delle relazioni fra gli Stati. La nascita del fascismo nel 1919 – ossia di un movimento che si richiama al simbolo romano del fascio littorio – e i primi anni del governo Mussolini dal 1922 in poi segnano un momento importante di apertura di nuovi spazi di influenza della cultura esoterica nei confronti del nuovo indirizzo politico e quindi nei confronti dello Stato.

E’ un tema complesso, inedito fino a pochi anni orsono ed approfondito in modo scientifico, per la prima volta, nel libro Esoterismo e Fascismo (a cura di Gianfranco De Turris, Mediterranee, Roma, 2006), cui hanno contribuito ben 35 studiosi, di diversa provenienza culturale e delle più diverse specializzazioni e che ha rappresentato lo sviluppo elaborativo di una monografia della rivista Hera (al tempo in cui era diretta da Adriano Forgione) sullo stesso tema, pubblicata nel 2003, dallo stesso curatore.

Per entrare meglio in argomento, è bene lasciare la parola allo stesso Evola, in un suo brano significativo nel Cammino del Cinabro: “Già il Reghini, quale direttore della rivista Atanor e poi Ignis… si era proposto di trattare le discipline esoteriche e iniziatiche con serietà e rigore, con riferimenti a fonti autentiche e con uno spirito critico. Il “Gruppo di Ur” riprese la stessa esigenza, però accentuandone maggiormente il lato pratico e sperimentale. Sotto la mia direzione esso fece uscire dei fascicoli mensili di monografie destinate ad essere riunite in volumi epperò coordinate in modo che si avesse, in buona misura, uno sviluppo sistematico e progressivo della materia… Fu adottato il principio dell’anonimia dei collaboratori perché – era detto nell’introduzione – “la loro persona non conta, quel che possono dire di valido non è loro creazione o escogitazione ma riflette un insegnamento superindividuale e oggettivo”… Nell’introduzione, come punto di partenza veniva posto ancora una volta il problema esistenziale dell’Io, la crisi di chi non crede più ai valori correnti e a tutto ciò che dà abitualmente, sul piano sia intellettuale, sia pratico, sia umano, un senso all’esistenza. Il presupposto ulteriore era che di fronte a tale crisi non si scartasse, non si ricorresse a dei lenitivi, ma nemmeno si crollasse, che in base al fatto irreversibile ormai determinatosi si fosse invece decisi assolutamente a “dissipare la nebbia, ad aprirsi una via”, volgendo verso la conoscenza di sè e, in sé , dell’Essere” (J.Evola, Il Cammino del Cinabro, Scheiwiller, Milano, 1972, pp.83-84).

Questa conoscenza ha il carattere di una scienza che, pur non avendo a che fare con cose e con fenomeni esteriori, ma concernendo le forze più profonde dell’interiorità umana, procede in modo sperimentale, con gli stessi criteri di obiettività e di impersonalità delle scienze esatte. Ad essa si lega “una tradizione unica che, in varie forme di espressione, si può ritrovare in tutti i popoli, ora come sapienza di antiche élites regali e sacerdotali, ora come conoscenza adombrata da simboli sacri, miti e riti le cui origini si perdono in tempi primordiali, da Misteri e da iniziazioni”.

Il punto di partenza è quindi il rifiuto dei valori correnti, di tutto ciò che abitualmente dà un senso alla vita; il riferimento è ai valori del mondo cattolico-borghese, verso i quali si avverte una profonda insoddisfazione esistenziale. E’ un tema che già compariva, in forme diverse, nella fase artistica di J. Evola, quella del dadaismo, di cui fu il maggiore esponente italiano; il linguaggio artistico del dadaismo si configura infatti, come una rottura verso i canoni tradizionali dell’arte dell’800 e di tutto il mondo che quell’arte esprimeva.

Tale rifiuto non è però fine a se stesso, ma sfocia in una ricerca costruttiva di diversi e più alti orizzonti,verso una conoscenza di sé e, in sé, dell’Essere, che non è una speculazione astratta, ma una concreta e sperimentale ricerca interiore, secondo una precisa metodica che non è una escogitazione individuale di questo o quell’autore, ma il frutto di una scienza antica, millenaria e universale, al di là delle sue varie forme espressive, secondo le diversità di tempo e di luogo.

Il fine di Ur, sul piano operativo-spirituale, è dunque quello di evocare una forza metafisica, attirandola col magnete psichico costituito dalla “catena” di Ur e dalle correlative operazioni di catena sulle quali, nella rivista omonima, si leggono precise istruzioni. Questa “forza” doveva poi trovare un suo sbocco, una sua estrinsecazione sul piano dell’azione culturale ed anche su quello politico.

Le monografie della rivista furono poi raccolte in volume col titolo della rivista e poi, nella loro prima riedizione (1955, a cura dell’editore Bocca di Milano, poi per le Edizioni Mediterranee di Roma nel 1971) presero il titolo di Introduzione alla Magia, aggiungendo come sottotitolo “quale Scienza dell’Io”.

Nell’introduzione del testo si precisava che il termine “Magia” non era adoperato nel senso popolare e nemmeno in quello adoperato nell’antichità, perché non si trattava di certe pratiche, reali o superstiziose, volte a produrre fenomeni extra-normali. Il Gruppo di Ur si riferiva essenzialmente al senso etimologico del termine (nella lingua iranica la radice “Mag” vuol dire sapiente), ossia ci si riferiva al sapere iniziatico in una sua speciale formulazione, ispirata ad un atteggiamento “solare”, ossia attivo e affermativo rispetto alla sfera del sacro. A tal riguardo si può ricordare una celebre frase di Plotino “Sono gli Déi che devono venire a me, non io agli Déi”, per rendere l’idea di questo peculiare orientamento spirituale. Peraltro la radice Ur in caldaico significa fuoco, ma vi era anche un senso aggiuntivo, quello di “primordiale, di “originario” che esso ha come prefisso in tedesco.

I contributi del Gruppo di Ur davano dunque orientamenti, spunti, sollecitazioni con l’esposizione di metodi, di discipline, di tecniche, insieme ad una chiarificazione del simbolismo tradizionale; inoltre con relazioni di esperienze effettivamente vissute e infine con la traduzione e la ripubblicazione di testi delle tradizioni occidentali e orientali integrati da opportuni commenti, quali, ad esempio, il Rituale Mithriaco del Gran Papiro Magico di Parigi, i Versi aurei di Pitagora, testi ermetici come la Turba Philosophorum, alcuni canti del mistico tibetano Milarepa, passi del canone Buddhista, brani scelti di Kremmerz, di Gustav Meyrink, di Crowley. Un quarto profilo di Ur riguardava i contributi di inquadramento dottrinario sintetico nonché puntualizzazioni critiche.

Evola scrive al riguardo “Indirizzi molteplici di scuole varie venivano presentati, a che il lettore avesse modo di scegliere in base alle sue particolari predisposizioni o inclinazioni”.

Ur si presenta quindi come una elaborazione critica della spiritualità esoterica tradizionale e, correlativamente, della cultura esoterica sia sul piano tecnico-operativo che su quello dell’esegesi testuale e dell’inquadramento dottrinario. Esso è, al tempo stesso, un momento di confronto pluralistico fra vari indirizzi iniziatici, in modo che il lettore possa scegliere avendo una panoramica generale, una visione d’insieme dei molteplici indirizzi operativi presenti nella spiritualità esoterica della prima metà del Novecento.

Va peraltro evidenziato che Ur fu il primo sodalizio a pubblicare il Rituale Mithriaco, fuori da ogni consorteria accademica e fu la prima rivista a pubblicare in Italia alcune pratiche del Buddhismo Vajrayana sotto il titolo La Via del diamante-folgore (si tratta della pratica di Vajrasattva – il Buddha della purificazione – e della sua “Sposa”, cioé la sua Shakti), dimostrando una apertura mentale ed una lucidità che ne facevano una vera e propria avanguardia sia sul piano spirituale-operativo, che su quello dell’elaborazione culturale che anticipava di gran lunga, cioè di molti decenni, la diffusione in Italia delle religioni orientali…

Peraltro la pubblicazione del Rituale Mithriaco si inseriva in un disegno – cui lo stesso Evola accenna espressamente nel Cammino del Cinabro – volto ad esercitare una influenza sul regime politico allora vigente, per svilupparne le potenzialità legate all’assunzione del fascio littorio come simbolo. In altri termini, una influenza volta a radicalizzare e potenziare l’anima “pagana” del fascismo, con ripercussioni concrete in termini politici e di orientamento culturale. Il commento di Ur al Rituale Mithriaco non sembra lasciare dubbi al riguardo, visto che si parla di un conflitto fra paganesimo e cristianesimo tuttora attuale e non confinato nella lontana antichità del IV secolo d.C. E’ un tema che, in altra sede, ho già ampiamente approfondito, poiché il disegno spirituale e di sistematizzazione dottrinaria aveva anche un suo profilo politico preciso, forse contando anche sul sostegno di alcune componenti interne al Partito nazionale fascista, sull’anticlericalismo di una certa area liberal-risorgimentale e, come ho già dimostrato altrove, sul tacito sostegno – quantomeno in termini di tolleranza – dello stesso Mussolini, poiché altrimenti non si spiega la libertà di movimento di questa rivista che, in un momento delicatissimo del rapporto diplomatico fra Stato e Chiesa, interviene con una affermazione di antagonismo nei confronti della religione cristiana. Le confidenze del Duce al suo biografo Yvon De Begnac sono eloquenti al riguardo (Y. De Begnac, Taccuini Mussoliniani (con prefazione di Renzo De Felice), Il Mulino, Bologna, 1990). Negli stessi anni – e precisamente nel 1928 – Evola pubblica Imperialismo Pagano, col significativo sottotitolo Il fascismo dinnanzi al pericolo eurocristiano. Le tesi del libro – ossia la necessità per il fascismo di attuare una rivoluzione spirituale in senso “pagano” – suscitarono le proteste dell’Osservatore Romano e contrasti anche nell’area della pubblicistica fascista.

Ur e Imperialismo Pagano si collocano quindi nell’ambito del medesimo disegno – poi storicamente fallito – volto a influire sulla direzione spirituale e politica del regime fascista (cfr. J. Evola, La Via della realizzazione di sé secondo i Misteri di Mithra (a cura di Stefano Arcella), Fondazione J.Evola-Controcorrente, Napoli, 2007).

Al di là di questo profilo esoterico-politico, intendo soffermarmi sui contributi di Giovanni Colazza (che si firmava Leo) e sull’influenza che il suo orientamento ebbe sulla formazione di Evola.

I contributi di questo esoterista si distinguono per una impostazione tutta concentrata sulla interiorizzazione personale di una visione animata e attiva della realtà, del mondo e della vita. Il primo contributo, dal titolo “Barriere”, è molto eloquente in questo senso. Non vi sono riferimenti a rituali magici, né a cerimoniali, ma tutto è imperniato sulla elaborazione cosciente di una visione e percezione più sottile e profonda delle cose. Si insiste quindi sulla responsabilità personale, sullo sviluppo di un percorso di consapevolezza in cui l’uomo opera su sé stesso per trasformarsi.

Nella prospettiva di Colazza, gioca quindi un ruolo fondamentale la volontà unita all’autoosservazione con la calma interiore di un critico. E’ una via dell’anima cosciente in cui ci si osserva come se si stesse osservando un altro. E’ evidente che sulla formazione di Colazza gioca un ruolo fondamentale l’influenza di Steiner e delle sue opere nelle quali viene tramandata la “scienza dello spirito”, che l’esoterista austriaco definisce antichissima e millenaria, non confondibile quindi con una escogitazione intellettuale soggettiva.

I contributi successivi di Leo vanno nella stessa direzione e sono un ulteriore approfondimento della medesima impostazione. Peraltro egli contribuisce all’introduzione ed al commento del Rituale Mithriaco insieme a Pietro Negri (Reghini), a Luce (Parise) e ad EA (Evola), come in Ur è esplicitamente attestato.

Ho avuto modo, già in altra sede, di evidenziare come la lettura evoliana dei Misteri di Mithra risenta dei contenuti della Filosofia della Libertà di Rudolf Steiner soprattutto nel punto in cui parla di questa volontà individuale che afferma la centralità di una coscienza calma ed autosufficiente e rifiuta la dimensione dell’agitazione e della perenne insoddisfazione della vita profana e ordinaria. E l’incontro con Colazza contribuì sicuramente a questo ampliamento di orizzonti del giovane filosofo romano.

E’ degno di attenzione che, nel III volume di Introduzione alla Magia (che corrisponde alla raccolta della rivista Krur del 1929) venga pubblicato un contributo non firmato – e quindi riferibile al direttore di Ur, ossia ad Evola – che si intitola “Liberazione delle facoltà”; si tratta di una sequenza metodica di esercizi personali, che riguardano il dominio del pensiero, il dominio dell’azione, l’equanimità, la positività come nuovo stile di pensiero, l’apertura mentale o spregiudicatezza e, infine, il riepilogo contestuale dei 6 esercizi.

Ognuno di questi esercizi dura 1 mese e vanno praticati nell’ordine in cui li abbiamo menzionati. Il primo riguarda la fortificazione del principio cosciente rispetto al flusso dei pensieri e consiste nella “concentrazione sull’oggetto insignificante”. Il secondo concerne la fortificazione della volontà cosciente rispetto al proprio agire che da agire abitudinario deve trasformarsi in agire consapevole. Il terzo riguarda lo sviluppo di un calmo distacco rispetto agli eventi, piacevoli o spiacevoli che siano, della propria vita, senza che ciò implichi insensibilità o indifferenza, ma la capacità di non lasciarsi trascinare né dalla gioia né dal dolore. Il quarto esercizio attiene allo sviluppo del pensiero positivo, ossia la capacità di saper cogliere gli aspetti positivi, benefici, di ogni cosa e di ogni evento, senza che ciò significhi scadere in un ingenuo ottimismo o non vedere gli aspetti negativi della realtà, ma sapendo valorizzare ciò che, in ogni cosa, può aiutare la nostra evoluzione di coscienza. Il quinto concerne l’apertura mentale, la capacità di saper uscire fuori dagli schemi ordinari, ammettendo la possibilità che della realtà facciano parte altri aspetti non ordinari. Il sesto è un momento di sintesi e di coordinamento dei 5 esercizi precedenti. Ognuno di questi esercizi è integrato da una precisa pratica di visualizzazione di una corrente eterica allo scopo di mettere in movimento le nostre energie che, nella fisiologia occulta, sono quelle del cosiddetto “corpo eterico” e dei “centri energetici”(i “chakra” della tradizione esoterica indiana).

Orbene tali esercizi di liberazione delle facoltà del pensiero, dell’agire, della calma e della solarità nel modo di affrontare la vita, sono esattamente, con un sola variante tecnica nel 1° esercizio, i sei esercizi fondamentali insegnati da Rudolf Steiner e ripubblicati in Italia dall’editrice Antroposofica di Milano. Steiner muore nel 1925 mentre il Gruppo di Ur si colloca negli anni fra il 1927 ed il 1929, per cui l’influenza di Steiner su Ur, sotto questo particolare aspetto, è storicamente documentata.

Eppure lo stesso Evola, nel suo libro Maschera e Volto dello spiritualismo contemporaneo (ora: Mediterranee, Roma, 2008), critica chiaramente e duramente la visione storica e cosmologica di Steiner che giudica come una visione evoluzionista e quindi antitradizionale (Evola si richiamava infatti alla dottrina dei cicli e della “regressione delle caste”, la storia venendo vista come un processo regressivo) ma in Krur riprende un preciso insegnamento operativo steineriano, anche se non cita Steiner.

Orbene, è evidente, a questo punto che, sotto alcuni specifici aspetti operativi, Evola risentì dell’influenza di Steiner attraverso la mediazione e l’insegnamento di Colazza che partecipava ad Ur con precisi insegnamenti di carattere operativo. A volte, i rapporti fra gli studiosi di esoterismo e fra i ricercatori spirituali sono più complessi di quanto possa apparire a prima vista.

* * *

Articolo originariamente pubblicato su Hera di settembre 2012.

The Crisis of Education as a Public Good

The Disappearance of Public Intellectuals

by HENRY GIROUX

 

http://www.counterpunch.org/

With the advent of Neoliberalism, we have witnessed the production and widespread adoption within many countries of what I want to call the politics of economic Darwinsim. As a theater of cruelty and mode of public pedagogy, economic Darwinism removes economics and markets from the discourse of social obligations and social costs.  The results are all around us ranging from ecological devastation and widespread economic impoverishment to the increasing incarceration of large segments of the population marginalized by race and class. Economics now drives politics, transforming citizens into consumers and compassion into an object of scorn.  The language of rabid individualism and harsh competition now replaces the notion of the public and all forms of solidarity not aligned with market values.  As public considerations and issues collapse into the morally vacant pit of private visions and narrow self-interests, the bridges between private and public life are dismantled making it almost impossible to determine how private troubles are connected to broader public issues. Long term investments are now replaced by short term profits while compassion and concern for others are viewed as a weakness.  As public visions fall into disrepair, the concept of the public good is eradicated in favor of Democratic public values are scorned because they subordinate market considerations to the common good.  Morality in this instance simply dissolves, as humans are stripped of any obligations to each other. How else to explain Mitt Romney’s gaffe caught on video in which he derided “47 percent of the people [who] will vote for the president no matter what”?[i] There was more at work here than what some have called a cynical political admission by Romney that some voting blocs do not matter.[ii]  Romney’s dismissive comments about those 47 percent of adult Americans who don’t pay federal income taxes for one reason or another, whom he described as “people who believe that they are victims, who believe the government has a responsibility to care for them, who believe that they are entitled to health care, to food, to housing, to you-name-it,”[iii] makes clear that the logic disposability is now a central feature of American politics.

As the language of privatization, deregulation, and commodification replaces the discourse of the  public good, all things public, including public schools, libraries, transportation systems, crucial infrastructures, and public services, are viewed either as a drain on the market or as a pathology.[iv]  The corrupting influence of money and concentrated power not only supports the mad violence of the defense industry, but turns politics itself into mode of sovereignty in which sovereignty now becomes  identical with policies that benefit the rich, corporations, and the defense industry.”[v]  Thomas Frank is on target when he argues that “Over the course of the past few decades, the power of concentrated money has subverted professions, destroyed small investors, wrecked the regulatory state, corrupted legislators en masse and repeatedly put the economy through he wringer. Now it has come for our democracy itself.”[vi]

Individual prosperity becomes the greatest of social achievements because it allegedly drives innovation and creates jobs. At the same time, massive disparities in income and wealth are celebrated as a justification for a survival of the fittest ethic and homage to a ruthless mode of unbridled individualism.  Vulnerable populations once protected by the social state are now considered a liability because they are viewed as either flawed consumers or present a threat to a right-wing Christian view of America as a white, protestant public sphere. The  elderly, young people, the unemployed, immigrants, and poor whites and minorities of color now constitute a form of human waste and are considered disposable, unworthy of sharing in the rights, benefits, and protections of a substantive democracy.  Clearly, this new politics of disposability and culture of cruelty represents more than an economic crisis, it is also speaks to a deeply rooted crisis of education, agency, and social responsibility.

Under such circumstances, to cite C. W. Mills, we are seeing the breakdown of democracy, the disappearance of critical intellectuals, and “the collapse of those public spheres which offer a sense of critical agency and social imagination.”[vii]  Since the 1970s, we have witnessed the forces of market fundamentalism strip education of its public values, critical content, and civic responsibilities as part of its broader goal of creating new subjects wedded to consumerism, risk-free relationships, and the destruction of the social state.  Tied largely to instrumental purposes and measurable paradigms, many institutions of higher education are now committed almost exclusively to economic goals, such as preparing students for the workforce. Universities have not only strayed from their democratic mission, they seem immune to the plight of students who have to face a harsh new world of high unemployment, the prospect of downward mobility, debilitating debt, and a future that mimics the failures of the past.   The question of what kind of education is needed for students to be informed and active citizens is rarely asked.[viii]

Within both higher education and the educational force of the broader cultural apparatus– with its networks of knowledge production in the old and new media– we are witnessing the emergence and dominance of a powerful and ruthless, if not destructive, market-driven notion of education, freedom, agency, and responsibility. Such modes of education do not foster a sense of organized responsibility central to a democracy. Instead, they foster what might be called a sense of organized irresponsibility–a practice that underlies the economic Darwinism and civic corruption at the heart of American and, to a lesser degree, Canadian politics.

The anti-democratic values that drive free market fundamentalism are embodied in policies now attempting to shape diverse levels of higher education all over the globe. The script has now become overly familiar and increasingly taken for granted, especially in the United States and increasingly in Canada.  Shaping the neoliberal framing of public and higher education is a corporate-based ideology that embraces standardizing the curriculum, top-to-down governing structures,  courses that promote entrepreneurial values, and the reduction of all levels of education to job training sites. For example, one university is offering a master’s degree to students who commit to starting a high-tech company while another allows career officers to teach capstone research seminars in the humanities. In one of these classes, the students were asked to “develop a 30-second commercial on their ‘personal brand.’”[ix]

Central to this neoliberal view of higher education is a market-driven paradigm that  wants to eliminate tenure,  turn the humanities into a job preparation service, and reduce most faculty to the status of part-time and temporary workers, if not simply a new subordinate class of disempowered educators.  The indentured service status of such faculty is put on full display as some colleges have resorted to using “temporary service agencies to do their formal hiring.”[x] Faculty in this view are regarded as simply another cheap army of reserve labor, a powerless group that  universities are eager to exploit in order to increase the bottom line while disregarding the needs and rights of academic laborers and the quality of education that students deserve.

There is no talk in this view of higher education about shared governance between faculty and administrators, nor of educating students as critical citizens rather than potential employees of Wal-Mart.  There is no attempt to affirm faculty as scholars and public intellectuals who have both a measure of autonomy and power. Instead, faculty members are increasingly defined less as intellectuals than as technicians and grant writers. Students fare no better in this debased form of education and are treated either as consumers or as restless children in need of high-energy entertainment—as was made clear in the recent Penn State scandal. Nor is there any attempt to legitimate higher education as a fundamental sphere for creating the agents necessary for an aspiring democracy. This neoliberal corporatized model of higher education exhibits a deep disdain for critical ideals, public spheres, and practices that are not directly linked to market values, business culture, the economy, or the production of short term financial gains.   In fact, the commitment to democracy is beleaguered, viewed less as a crucial educational investment than as a distraction that gets in the way of connecting knowledge and pedagogy to the production of material and human capital.

Higher Education and the Crisis of Legitimacy

In the United States, many of the problems in higher education can be linked to low funding, the domination of universities by market mechanisms, the rise of for-profit colleges, the intrusion of the national security state, and the lack of faculty self-governance, all of which not only contradicts the culture and democratic value of higher education but also makes a mockery of the very meaning and mission of the university as a democratic public sphere.  Decreased financial support for higher education stands in sharp contrast to increased support for tax benefits for the rich, big banks, the Defense Budget, and mega corporations.  Rather than enlarge the moral imagination and critical capacities of students, too many universities are now wedded to producing would-be hedge fund managers, depoliticized students,  and creating modes of education that promote a “technically trained docility.”[xi]  Strapped for money and increasingly defined in the language of corporate culture, many universities are now “pulled or driven principally by vocational, [military], and economic considerations while increasingly removing academic knowledge production from democratic values and projects.”[xii]

College presidents are now called CEOs and speak largely in the discourse of Wall Street and corporate fund managers while at the same time moving without apology or shame between interlocking corporate and academic boards. Venture capitalists scour colleges and universities in search of big profits to be made through licensing agreements, the control of intellectual property rights, and investments in university spinoff companies. In this new Gilded Age of money and profit, academic subjects gain stature almost exclusively through their exchange value on the market. It gets worse as exemplified by one recent example. BB&T Corporation, a financial holdings company, gave a $1 million gift to Marshall University’s business school on the condition that Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand [Paul Ryan’s favorite book] be taught in a course.   What are we to make of the integrity of a university when it accepts a monetary gift from a corporation or rich patron demanding as part of the agreement the power to specify what is to be taught in a course or how a curriculum should be shaped?  Some corporations and universities now believe that what is taught in a course is not an academic decision but a market consideration.

Not only does neoliberalism undermine  both civic education and public values and confuse education with training,  it also treats knowledge as a product, promoting a neoliberal logic that views schools as malls, students as consumers, and faculty as entrepreneurs. It gets worse.  As Stanley Aronowitz points out, [t]he absurd neoliberal idea that users should pay for every public good from parks and beaches to highways  has reached education with a vengeance”[xiii] as more and more students are forced to give up attending college because of skyrocketing tuition rates.  In addition, thousands of students are now saddled with debts that will bankrupt their lives in the future. Unfortunately, one measure of this disinvestment in higher education as a public good can be seen in the fact that many states such as California are spending more on prisons than on higher education.[xiv]  Educating low income and poor minorities to be engaged citizens has been undermined by an unholy alliance of law and order conservatives, private prison corporations, and prison guard unions along with the rise of the punishing state, all of whom have an invested interest in locking more people up, especially poor minority youth, rather than educating them.  It is no coincidence that as the U.S., and Canada to a lesser degree, disinvests in the institutions fundamental to a democracy, it has invested heavily in the rise of the prison-industrial complex, and the punishing-surveillance state.  The social costs of prioritizing punishing over educating is clear in one shocking statistic provided by a recent study which states that  “by age 23, almost a third of Americans or 30.2 percent have been arrested for a crime…that researches say is a measure of growing exposure to the criminal justice system in everyday life.”[xv]

Questions regarding how education might enable students to develop a keen sense of prophetic justice, utilize critical analytical skills, and cultivate an ethical sensibility through which they learn to respect the rights of others are becoming increasingly irrelevant in a market-driven and militarized university.  As the humanities and liberal arts are downsized, privatized, and commodified, higher education finds itself caught in the paradox of claiming to invest in the future of young people while offering them few intellectual, civic, and moral supports.

If the commercialization, commodification, and militarization of the university continue unabated, higher education will become yet another one of a number of institutions incapable of fostering critical inquiry, public debate, human acts of justice, and public values. But the calculating logic of the corporate university does more than diminish the moral and political vision and practices necessary to sustain a vibrant democracy and an engaged notion of social agency. It also undermines the development of public spaces where matters of dissent, critical dialogue, social responsibility, and social justice are pedagogically valued– viewed as fundamental to providing students with the knowledge and skills necessary to address the problems facing the nation and the globe. Such democratic public spheres are especially important at a time when any space that produces “critical thinkers capable of putting existing institutions into question” is under siege by powerful economic and political interests.[xvi]

Higher education has a responsibility not only to search for the truth regardless of where it may lead, but also to educate students to make authority and power politically and morally accountable while at the same time sustaining “the idea and hope of a public culture.”[xvii]  Though questions regarding whether the university should serve strictly public rather than private interests no longer carry the weight of forceful criticism they did in the past, such questions are still crucial in addressing the purpose of higher education and what it might mean to imagine the university’s full participation in public life as the protector and promoter of democratic values.

What needs to be understood is that higher education may be one of the few public spheres left where knowledge, values, and learning offer a glimpse of the promise of education for nurturing public values, critical hope, and a substantive democracy.  It may be the case that everyday life is increasingly organized around market principles; but confusing a market-determined society with democracy hollows out the legacy of higher education, whose deepest roots are moral, not commercial. This is a particularly important insight in a society where the free circulation of ideas are not only being replaced by ideas managed by the dominant media, but where critical ideas are increasingly viewed or dismissed as banal, if not reactionary. Celebrity culture and the commodification of culture now constitute a powerful form of mass illiteracy and increasingly permeate all aspects the educational force of the wider cultural apparatus. But mass illiteracy does more than depoliticize the public, it also becomes complicit with the suppression of dissent.  Intellectuals who engage in dissent and “keep the idea and hope of a public culture alive,”[xviii] are often dismissed as irrelevant, extremist, or un-American. Moreover, anti-public intellectuals now dominate the larger cultural landscape, all too willing to flaunt co-option and reap the rewards of venting insults at their assigned opponents while being reduced to the status of paid servants of powerful economic interests.  At the same time, there are too few academics willing to defend higher education for its role in providing a supportive and sustainable culture in which a vibrant critical democracy can flourish.

These issues, in part, represent political and pedagogical concerns that should not be lost on either academics or those concerned about the purpose and meaning of higher education. Democracy places civic demands upon its citizens, and such demands point to the necessity of an education that is broad-based, critical, and supportive of meaningful civic values, participation in self-governance, and democratic leadership. Only through such a formative and critical educational culture can students learn how to become individual and social agents, rather than merely disengaged spectators,  able both to think otherwise and  to act upon civic commitments that “necessitate a reordering of basic power arrangements” fundamental to promoting the common good and producing a meaningful democracy.

Dreaming the Impossible

Reclaiming higher education as a democratic public sphere begins with the crucial project of challenging, among other things, those market fundamentalists, religious extremists, and rigid ideologues who harbor a deep disdain for critical thought and healthy skepticism, and who look with displeasure upon any form of education that teaches students to read the word and the world critically. The radical imagination in this discourse is viewed as dangerous and a dire threat to political authorities. One striking example of this view was expressed recently by former Senator Rick Santorum who argues that there is no room for intellectuals in the Republican Party. Needless to say, education is not only about issues of work and economics, but also about questions of justice, social freedom, and the capacity for democratic agency, action, and change, as well as the related issues of power, inclusion, and citizenship. These are educational and political issues, and they should be addressed as part of a broader effort to re-energize the global struggle for social justice and democracy.

If higher education is to characterize itself as a site of critical thinking, collective work, and public service, educators and students will have to redefine the knowledge, skills, research, and intellectual practices currently favored in the university. Central to such a challenge is the need to position intellectual practice “as part of an intricate web of morality, rigor and responsibility” that enables academics to speak with conviction, use the public sphere to address important social problems, and demonstrate alternative models for bridging the gap between higher education and the broader society.  Connective practices are key: it is crucial to develop intellectual practices that are collegial rather than competitive, refuse the instrumentality and privileged isolation of the academy, link critical thought to a profound impatience with the status quo, and connect human agency to the idea of social responsibility and the politics of possibility.

Connection also means being openly and deliberately critical and worldly in one’s intellectual work. Increasingly, as universities are shaped by a culture of fear in which dissent is equated with treason, the call to be objective and impartial, whatever one’s intentions, can easily echo what George Orwell called the official truth or the establishment point of view. Lacking a self-consciously democratic political focus, teachers are often reduced to the role of a technician  or functionary engaged in formalistic rituals, unconcerned with the disturbing and urgent problems that confront the larger society or the consequences of one’s pedagogical practices and research undertakings. In opposition to this model, with its claims to and conceit of political neutrality, I argue that academics should combine the mutually interdependent roles of critical educator and active citizen. This requires finding ways to connect the practice of classroom teaching with the operation of power in the larger society and to provide the conditions for students to view themselves as critical agents capable of making those who exercise authority and power answerable for their actions. Such an intellectual does not train students solely for jobs, but also educates them to question critically the institutions, policies, and values that  shape their lives, relationships to others, and myriad connections to the larger world.

I think Stuart Hall is on target here when he insists that educators also have a responsibility to provide students with “critical knowledge that has to be ahead of traditional knowledge: it has to be better than anything that traditional knowledge can produce, because only serious ideas are going to stand up.”[xix] At the same time, he insists on the need for educators to “actually engage, contest, and learn from the best that is locked up in other traditions,” especially those attached to traditional academic paradigms.[xx]  It is also important to remember that education as a utopian project is not simply about fostering critical consciousness but also about teaching students to take responsibility for one’s responsibilities, be they personal, political, or global. Students must be made aware of the ideological and structural forces that promote needless human suffering while also recognizing that it takes more than awareness to resolve them. This is the kind of intellectual practice that Zygmunt Bauman calls “taking responsibility for our responsibility,”[xxi] one that is attentive to the suffering and needs of others.

Education cannot be decoupled from what Jacques Derrida calls a democracy to come, that is, a democracy that must always “be open to the possibility of being contested, of contesting itself, of criticizing and indefinitely improving itself.”[xxii]  Within this project of possibility and impossibility, education must be understood as a deliberately informed and purposeful political and moral practice, as opposed to one that is either doctrinaire, instrumentalized, or both. Moreover, a critical pedagogy should be engaged at all levels of schooling. Similarly, it must gain part of its momentum in higher education among students who will go back to the schools, churches, synagogues, and workplaces in order to produce new ideas, concepts, and critical ways of understanding the world in which young people and adults live. This is a notion of intellectual practice and responsibility that refuses the insular, overly pragmatic, and privileged isolation of the academy.  It also affirms a broader vision of learning that links knowledge to the power of self-definition and to the capacities of students to expand the scope of democratic freedoms, particularly those that address the crisis of education, politics, and the social as part and parcel of the crisis of democracy itself.

In order for critical pedagogy, dialogue, and thought to have real effects,  they must advocate the message that all citizens, old and young, are equally entitled, if not equally empowered, to shape the society in which they live. This is a message we heard from the brave students fighting tuition hikes and the destruction of civil liberties and social provisions in Quebec and to a lesser degree in the Occupy Wall Street movement.  If educators are to function as public intellectuals, they need listen to young people all over the world who are insisting that the relationship between knowledge and power can be emancipatory, that their histories and experiences matter, and that what they say and do counts in their struggle to unlearn dominating privileges, productively reconstruct their relations with others, and transform, when necessary, the world around them. Simply put, educators need to argue for forms of pedagogy that close the gap between the university and everyday life. Their curricula need to be organized around knowledge of those communities, cultures, and traditions that give students a sense of history, identity, place, and possibility. More importantly, they need to join students in engaging in a practice of freedom that points to new and radical forms of pedagogies that have a direct link to building social movements in and out of the colleges and universities.

Although there are still a number of academics such as Noam Chomsky, Angela Davis, Stanley Aronowitz, Slavoj Zizek, Russell Jacoby, and Cornel West who function as public intellectuals, they are often shut out of the mainstream media or characterized as marginal, even subversive figures. At the same time, many academics find themselves laboring under horrendous working conditions that either don’t allow for them to write in an accessible manner for the public because they do not have time—given the often almost slave-like labor demanded of part-time academics and increasingly of full-time academics as well—or they retreat into a highly specialized, professional language that few people can understand in order to meet the institutional standards of academic excellence. In this instance, potentially significant theoretical rigor detaches itself both from any viable notion of accessibility and from the possibility of reaching a larger audience outside of their academic disciplines.

Consequently, such intellectuals often exist in hermetic academic bubbles cut off from both the larger public and the important issues that impact society. To no small degree, they have been complicit in the transformation of the university into an adjunct of corporate and military power. Such academics have become incapable of defending higher education as a vital public sphere and unwilling to challenge those spheres of induced mass cultural illiteracy and firewalls of jargon that doom critically engaged thought, complex ideas, and serious writing for the public to extinction. Without their intervention as public intellectuals, the university defaults on its role as a democratic public sphere capable of educating an informed public, a culture of questioning, and the development of a critical formative culture connected to the need, as Cornelius Castoriadis puts it, “to create citizens who are critical thinkers capable of putting existing institutions into question so that democracy again becomes society’s movement.”[xxiii]

Before his untimely death, Edward Said, himself an exemplary public intellectual, urged his colleagues in the academy to directly confront those social hardships that disfigure contemporary society and pose a serious threat to the promise of democracy.  He urged them to assume the role of public intellectuals, wakeful and mindful of their responsibilities to bear testimony to human suffering and the pedagogical possibilities at work in educating students to be autonomous, self-reflective, and socially responsible. Said rejected the notion of a market-driven pedagogy, one that created cheerful robots and legitimated organized recklessness and illegal legalities.  In opposition to such a pedagogy, Said argued for what he called a pedagogy of  wakefulness and its related concern with a politics of critical engagement. In commenting on Said’s public pedagogy of wakefulness, and how it shaped his important consideration of academics as public intellectuals, I begin with a passage that I think offers a key to the ethical and political force of much of his writing. This selection is taken from his memoir, Out of Place, which describes the last few months of his mother’s life in a New York hospital and the difficult time she had falling to sleep because of the cancer that was ravaging her body. Recalling this traumatic and pivotal life experience, Said’s meditation moves between the existential and the insurgent, between private pain and worldly commitment, between the seductions of a “solid self” and the reality of a contradictory, questioning, restless, and at times, uneasy sense of identity. He writes:

‘Help me to sleep, Edward,’ she once said to me with a piteous trembling in her voice that I can still hear as I write. But then the disease spread into her brain—and for the last six weeks she slept all the time—my own inability to sleep may be her last legacy to me, a counter to her struggle for sleep. For me sleep is something to be gotten over as quickly as possible. I can only go to bed very late, but I am literally up at dawn. Like her I don’t possess the secret of long sleep, though unlike her I have reached the point where I do not want it. For me, sleep is death, as is any diminishment in awareness. ..Sleeplessness for me is a cherished state to be desired at almost any cost; there is nothing for me as invigorating as immediately shedding the shadowy half-consciousness of a night’s loss than the early morning, reacquainting myself with or resuming what I might have lost completely a few hours earlier. I occasionally experience myself as a cluster of flowing currents. I prefer this to the idea of a solid self, the identity to which so many attach so much significance. These currents like the themes of one’s life, flow along during the waking hours, and at their best, they require no reconciling, no harmonizing. They are ‘off’ and may be out of place, but at least they are always in motion, in time, in place, in the form of all kinds of strange combinations moving about, not necessarily forward, sometimes against each other, contrapuntally yet without one central theme. A form of freedom, I like to think, even if I am far from being totally convinced that it is. That skepticism too is one of the themes I particularly want to hold on to. With so many dissonances in my life I have learned actually to prefer being not quite right and out of place.[xxiv]

It is this sense of being awake, displaced, caught in a combination of diverse circumstances that suggests a pedagogy that is cosmopolitan and imaginative–a public affirming pedagogy that demands a critical and engaged interaction with the world we live in mediated by a responsibility for challenging structures of domination and for alleviating human suffering.  As an ethical and political practice, a public pedagogy of wakefulness rejects modes of education removed from political or social concerns, divorced from history and matters of injury and injustice. Said’s notion of a pedagogy of wakefulness includes “lifting complex ideas into the public space,” recognizing human injury inside and outside of the academy, and using theory as a form of criticism to change things.[xxv] This is a pedagogy in which academics are neither afraid of controversy or the willingness to make connections that are otherwise hidden, nor are they afraid of making clear the connection between private issues and broader elements of society’s problems.

For Said, being awake becomes a central metaphor for defining the role of academics as public intellectuals, defending the university as a crucial public sphere, engaging how culture deploys power, and taking seriously the idea of human interdependence while at the same time always living on the border — one foot in and one foot out, an exile and an insider for whom home was always a form of homelessness. As a relentless border crosser, Said embraced the idea of the “traveler” as an important metaphor for engaged intellectuals. As Stephen Howe, referencing Said, points out, “It was an image which depended not on power, but on motion, on daring to go into different worlds, use different languages, and ‘understand a multiplicity of disguises, masks, and rhetorics. Travelers must suspend the claim of customary routine in order to live in new rhythms and rituals … the traveler crosses over, traverses territory, and abandons fixed positions all the time.’”[xxvi]  And as a border intellectual and traveler, Said embodied the notion of always “being quite not right,” evident by his principled critique of all forms of certainties and dogmas and his refusal to be silent in the face of human suffering at home and abroad.

Being awake meant refusing the now popular sport of academic bashing or embracing a crude call for action at the expense of rigorous intellectual and theoretical work. On the contrary, it meant combining rigor and clarity, on the one hand, and civic courage and political commitment, on the other. A pedagogy of wakefulness meant using theory as a resource, recognizing the worldly space of criticism as the democratic underpinning of publicness, defining critical literacy not merely as a competency, but as an act of interpretation linked to the possibility of intervention in the world. It pointed to a kind of border literacy in the plural in which people learned to read and write from multiple positions of agency; it also was indebted to the recognition forcibly stated by Hannah Arendt that “Without a politically guaranteed public realm, freedom lacks the worldly space to make its appearance.”[xxvii]

For public intellectuals such as Said, Chomsky, Bourdieu, Angela Davis, and others, intellectuals have a responsibility to unsettle power, trouble consensus, and challenge common sense.  The very notion of being an engaged public intellectual is neither foreign to nor a violation of what it means to be an academic scholar, but central to its very definition.  According to Said, academics have a duty to enter into the public sphere unafraid to take positions and generate controversy, functioning as moral witnesses, raising political awareness, making connections to those elements of power and politics often hidden from public view, and reminding “the audience of the moral questions that may be hidden in the clamor and din of the public debate.”[xxviii]  At the same time, Said criticized those academics who retreated into a new dogmatism of the disinterested specialist that separates them “not only from the public sphere but from other professionals who don’t use the same jargon.”[xxix] This was especially unsettling to him at a time when complex language and critical thought remain under assault in the larger society by all manner of anti-democratic forces.

The view of higher education as a democratic public sphere committed to producing young people capable and willing to expand and deepen their sense of themselves, to think the “world” critically, “to imagine something other than their own well-being,” to serve the public good, and to struggle for a substantive democracy has been in a state of acute crisis for the last thirty years.[xxx]  When faculty assume, in this context, their civic responsibility to educate students to think critically, act with conviction, and connect what they learn in classrooms to important social issues in the larger society, they are often denounced for politicizing their classrooms and for violating professional codes of conduct, or, worse, labelled as unpatriotic.[xxxi] In some cases, the risk of connecting what they teach to the imperative to expand the capacities of students to be both critical and socially engaged may costs academics their jobs, especially when they make visible the workings of power, injustice, human misery, and the alterable nature of the social order. What do the liberal arts and humanities amount to if they do not teach the practice of freedom, especially at a time when training is substituted for education?  Gayatri Spivak provides a context for this question with her comment: “”Can one insist on the importance of training in the humanities in [a] time of legitimized violence?”[xxxii]

In a society that remains troublingly resistant to or incapable of questioning itself, one that celebrates the consumer over the citizen,  and  all too willingly endorses the narrow values and interests of corporate power, the importance of the  university as a place of critical learning, dialogue, and social justice advocacy becomes all the more imperative.  Moreover, the distinctive role that faculty play in this ongoing pedagogical project of democratization and learning, along with support for the institutional conditions and relations of power that make it possible, must be defended as part of a broader discourse of excellence, equity, and democracy.

Despite the growing public recognition that market fundamentalism has fostered a destructive alignment among the state, corporate capital, and transnational corporations, there is little understanding that such an alignment has been constructed and solidified through a neoliberal disciplinary apparatus and corporate pedagogy produced in part in the halls of higher education and through the educational force of the larger media culture.  The economic Darwinism of the last thirty years has done more than throw the financial and credit system into crisis; it has also waged an attack on all those social institutions that support critical modes of agency, reason, and meaningful dissent.  And yet, the financial meltdown most of the world is experiencing is rarely seen as part of an educational crisis in which the institutions of public and higher education have been conscripted into a war on democratic values. Such institutions have played a formidable, if not shameless role, in reproducing market-driven beliefs, social relations, identities, and modes of understanding that legitimate the institutional arrangements of cut-throat capitalism.  William Black calls such institutions purveyors of a “criminogenic environment”—one that promotes and legitimates market-driven practices that include fraud, deregulation, and other perverse practices.[xxxiii]  Black claims that the most extreme pedagogical expression of such an environment can be found in business schools, which he calls “fraud factories” for the elite.[xxxiv]

There seems to be an enormous disconnect between the economic conditions that led to the current financial meltdown and the current call to action by a generation of young people and adults who have been educated for the last several decades in the knowledge, values, and identities of a market-driven society.  Clearly, this generation will not solve this crisis if they do not connect it to the assault on an educational system that has been reduced to a lowly adjunct of corporate interests and the bidding of the warfare state.

Higher education represents one the most important sites over which the battle for democracy is being waged. It is the site where the promise of a better future emerges out of those visions and pedagogical practices that combine hope, agency, politics, and moral responsibility as part of a broader emancipatory discourse. Academics have a distinct and unique obligation, if not political and ethical responsibility, to make learning relevant to the imperatives of a discipline, scholarly method, or research specialization. But more  importantly, academics as engaged scholars can further the activation of knowledge, passion, values, and hope in the service of forms of agency that are crucial to sustaining a democracy in which higher education plays an important civic, critical, and pedagogical role.  If democracy is a way of life that demands a formative culture, educators can play a pivotal role in creating forms of pedagogy and research that enable young people to think critically, exercise judgment, engage in spirited debate, and create those public spaces that constitute “the very essence of political life.”[xxxv]

Finally, I want to suggest that while it has become more difficult to imagine a democratic future, we have entered a period in which young people all over the world are protesting against neoliberalism and its pedagogy and politics of disposability. Refusing to remain voiceless and powerless in determining their future, these young people are organizing collectively  in order  to create the conditions for societies that refuse to use politics as an act of war and markets as the measure of democracy. They are taking seriously the words of the great abolitionist Frederick Douglas who bravely argued that freedom is an empty abstraction if people fail to act, and “if there is no struggle, there is no progress.”

Their struggles are not simply aimed at the 1% but also the 99 percent as part of a broader effort to get them to connect the dots, educate themselves, and develop and join social movements that can rewrite the language of democracy and put into place the institutions and formative cultures that make it possible. Stanley Aronowitz is right in arguing that “The system survives on the eclipse of the radical imagination, the absence of a viable political opposition with roots in the general population, and the conformity of its intellectuals who, to a large extent, are subjugated by their secure berths in the academy. [At the same time,] it would be premature to predict that decades of retreat, defeat and silence can be reversed overnight without a commitment to what may be termed  ‘a long march’ though the institutions, the workplaces and the streets of the capitalist metropoles.”[xxxvi]

The current protests in the United States, Canada, Greece, and Spain make clear that this is not–indeed, cannot be–only a short-term project for reform, but a political movement that needs to intensify, accompanied by the reclaiming of public spaces, the progressive use of digital technologies, the development of public spheres,  the production of new modes of education, and the safeguarding of places where democratic expression, new identities, and collective hope can be nurtured and mobilized.  A formative culture must be put in place pedagogically and institutionally in a variety of spheres extending from churches and public and higher education to all those cultural apparatuses engaged in the production and circulation of knowledge, desire, identities, and values. Clearly, such efforts need to address the language of democratic revolution rather than the seductive incremental adjustments of liberal reform. This suggest not only calling for a living wage, jobs programs, especially for the young, the democratization of power, economic equality, and a massive shift in funds away from the machinery of war and big banks  but also a social movement that not only engages in critique but makes hope a real possibility by organizing to seize power.  There is no room for failure here because failure would cast us back into the clutches of authoritarianism–that while different from previous historical periods–shares nonetheless the imperative to proliferate violent social formations and a death-dealing blow to the promise of a democracy to come.

Given the urgency of the problems faced by those marginalized by class, race, age, and sexual orientation, I think it is all the more crucial to take seriously the challenge of Derrida’s provocation that “We must do and think the impossible. If only the possible happened, nothing more would happen. If I only I did what I can do, I wouldn’t do anything.”[xxxvii]  We may live in dark times as Hannah Arendt reminds us, but history is open and the space of the possible is larger than the one on display.

Henry A. Giroux holds the Global TV Network chair in English and Cultural Studies at McMaster University in Canada. His most recent books include: “Take Back Higher Education” (co-authored with Susan Searls Giroux, 2006), “The University in Chains: Confronting the Military-Industrial-Academic Complex” (2007) and “Against the Terror of Neoliberalism: Politics Beyond the Age of Greed” (2008). His latest book is Twilight of the Social: Resurgent Publics in the Age of Disposability,” (Paradigm.)

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Notes.

[i] David Corn, “Secret Video: Romney Tells Millionaire Donors What He Really Thinks of Obama Voters,” Mother Jones (September 17, 2012). Online: http://www.motherjones.com/politics/2012/09/secret-video-romney-private-fundraiser

[ii] Naomi Wolf, “How the Mitt Romney Video Killed the American Dream,” The Guardian (September 21, 2012). Online: http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2012/sep/21/mitt-romney-video-killed-american-dream?newsfeed=true

[iii] Corn, “Secret Video,” http://www.motherjones.com/politics/2012/09/secret-video-romney-private-fundraiser

[iv] George Lakoff and Glenn W. G Smith, “Romney, Ryan and the Devil’s Budget,” Reader Supported News, (August 22, 2012). Online:

http://blogs.berkeley.edu/2012/08/23/romney-ryan-and-the-devils-budget-will-america-keep-its-soul/

[v] João Biehl, Vita: Life in a Zone of Social Abandonment (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2005). These zones are also brilliantly analyzed in Chris Hedges and Joe Sacco, Days of Destruction, Days of Revolt (New York: Knopf, 2012).

[vi] Thomas Frank, “It’s a rich man’s world: How billionaire backers pick America’s candidates,”

Harper’s Magazine (April 2012). Online: http://harpers.org/archive/2012/04/0083856

[vii]. C. Wright Mills, The Politics of Truth: Selected Writings of C. Wright Mills, (New York: Oxford University Press, 2008), p. 200.

[viii]. Stanley Aronowitz, “Against Schooling: Education and Social Class,” Against Schooling, (Boulder, CO: Paradigm Publishers, 2008), p. xii.

[ix]. Ibid, Kate Zernike, “Making College ‘Relevant’,” P. ED 16.

[x] Scott Jaschik, “Making Adjuncts Temps—Literally,” Inside Higher Ed (August 9, 2010). Online: http://www.insidehighered.com/news/2010/08/09/adjuncts

[xi] Martha C. Nussbaum, Not For Profit: Why Democracy Needs The Humanities, (New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 2010), p. 142.

[xii] Greig de Peuter, “Universities, Intellectuals, and Multitudes: An Interview with Stuart Hall”, in Mark Cote, Richard J. F. Day, and Greig de Peuter, eds.,Utopian Pedagogy: Radical Experiments against Neoliberal Globalization, (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2007), p. 111.

[xiii]. Ibid., Aronowitz, Against Schooling, p. xviii.

[xiv] Les Leopold, “Crazy Country: 6 Reasons America Spends More on Prisons Than On Higher Education,” Alternet, (August 27, 2012). Online

http://www.alternet.org/education/crazy-country-6-reasons-america-spends-more-prisons-higher-education?paging=off. On this issue, see also the classic work by Angela Davis: Are Prisons Obsolete? (New York: Open  Media, 2003) and Michelle Alexander, New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness (New York: New Press, 2012).

[xv] Erica Goode, “Many in U.S. Are Arrested by Age 23, Study Finds,” New York Times (December 19, 2011), p. A15.

[xvi]. Cornelius Castoriadis, “Democracy as Procedure and democracy as Regime,” Constellations 4:1 (1997), p. 5.

[xvii] George Scialabba, What Are Intellectuals Good For? (Boston: Pressed Wafer, 2009) p. 4.

17. Ibid. .

[xix]. Greig de Peuter, Universities, Intellectuals and Multitudes: An Interview with Stuart Hall,” in Mark Cote, Richard J. F. Day, and Greig de Peuter, eds.  Utopian Pedagogy: Radical Experiments Against Neoliberal Globalization (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2007), p. 113-114.

[xx]. De Peuter, Ibid. P. 117.

[xxi]. Cited in Madeline Bunting, “Passion and Pessimism,” The Guardian (April 5, 2003). Available online: http:/books.guardian.co.uk/print/0,3858,4640858,00.html.

[xxii]. Giovanna Borriadori, ed., “Autoimmunity: Real and Symbolic Suicides–A Dialogue with Jacques Derrida,” in Philosophy in a Time of Terror: Dialogues with Jurgen Habermas and Jacques Derrida (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004). P. 121.

[xxiii]. Cornelius Castoriadis, “Democracy as Procedure and Democracy as Regime,” Constellations 4:1 (1997), p.  10.

[xxiv]. Edward Said, Out of Place: A Memoir  (New York: Vintage, 2000), pp. 294-299

[xxv]. Said, Out of Place, p. 7.

[xxvi]. Stephen Howe, “Edward Said: The Traveller and the Exile,” Open Democracy (October 2, 2003). Online at: www.opendemocracy.net/articles/ViewPopUpArticle.jsp?id=10&articleId=1561.

[xxvii]. Hannah Arendt, Between Past and Future: Eight Exercises in Political Thought (New York: Penguin, 1977), p. 149.

[xxviii]. Edward Said, “On Defiance and Taking Positions,” Reflections On Exile and Other Essays (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2001), p. 504.

[xxix]. Edward Said, Humanism and Democratic Criticism (New York: Columbia University Press, 2004), p. 70.

[xxx]. See, especially, Christopher Newfield, Unmaking the Public University: The Forty-Year Assault on the Middle Class (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2008).

[xxxi]. See Henry A. Giroux, “Academic Unfreedom in America: Rethinking the University as a Democratic Public Sphere,” in Edward J. Carvalho, ed.,  “Academic Freedom and Intellectual Activism in the Post-9/11 University,” special issue of Work and Days 51–54 (2008–2009), pp. 45–72. This may be the best collection yet published on intellectual activism and academic freedom.

[xxxii] Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, “Changing Reflexes: Interview with Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak,” Works and Days, 55/56: Vol. 28, 2010, p. 8.

[xxxiii]. Bill Moyers, “Interview with William K. Black,” Bill Moyers Journal (April 23, 2010).

Online at:  http://www.pbs.org/moyers/journal/04232010/transcript4.html

[xxxiv]. Moyers, “Interview with William K. Black.”

[xxxv]. See, especially, H. Arendt, The Origins of Totalitarianism, 3^rd edition, revised (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1968); and J. Dewey, Liberalism and Social Action [orig. 1935] (New York: Prometheus Press, 1999).

35.  Ibid, Aronowitz, “The Winter of Our Discontent,” p. 68.

[xxxvii]  Jacques Derrida, “No One is Innocent: A Discussion with Jacques About Philosophy in the Face of Terror,” The Information Technology, War and Peace Project, p. 2 available online: http://www.watsoninstitute.org/infopeace/911/derrida_innocence.html

L’Atlantisme est un totalitarisme

par Guillaume de ROUVILLE

Ex: http://mediabenews.wordpress.com/

L’Atlantisme est l’idéologie dominante des sociétés européennes actuelles, celle qui aura sans doute le plus d’influence sur le devenir de nos destinées communes et pourtant elle est de ces idéologies presque cachées dont on ne parle ouvertement que dans le cercle restreint du monde alternatif. Sont Atlantistes tous les collaborateurs européens de la vision hégémonique des États-Unis et de son idéologie propre qui répond au doux nom d’impérialisme. Autrement dit, l’Atlantisme est l’idéologie des exécutants serviles de l’idéologie impériale américaine ; elle lui est subordonnée et ne tire de sa soumission que les miettes de l’empire tombées à terre après le festin des empereurs.

C’est une idéologie mineure dans l’idéologie majeure. Elle est à la fois  honteuse et conquérante : honteuse parce qu’elle ne joue jamais que les seconds rôles ; conquérante, parce qu’elle emprunte à son maître d’outre-atlantique ses visions hégémoniques délirantes et toutes ses caractéristiques totalitaires. C’est un totalitarisme dans le totalitarisme, une domination de dominés, un impérialisme de serfs et d’esclaves passés maîtres dans l’art de se soumettre. Parler de l’Atlantisme européen c’est parler du projet impérial américain et réciproquement. La seule chose qui les distingue est leur place dans la hiérarchie totalitaire : le premier n’est que l’émanation du second, ne se définit que par lui, se contente de l’imiter et lui obéit en tout ; il n’est, en revanche, son égal en rien.

Chaque continent a ses collaborateurs au service de l’impérialisme américain, chaque zone d’influence de ce dernier a son atlantisme à lui. Nous aurions pu ainsi nous contenter d’évoquer les caractéristiques totalitaires de l’impérialisme américain pour comprendre l’Atlantisme. Mais, la position de subordination que les Européens ont adopté par rapport à leur modèle nord américain est le résultat d’un choix de nos élites auquel nous devons nous confronter directement, plutôt que de rejeter toute forme de responsabilité sur l’oligarchie américaine. Prenons notre part de responsabilité, voyons-nous tels que nous sommes, accomplissons un travail d’introspection nécessaire avant de relever la tête et de retrouver notre dignité. Car, avant de pouvoir se rebeller contre ses maîtres, il faut se percevoir comme esclave et reconnaître la part de consentement et de lâcheté qu’il y a dans cette situation.

D’un totalitarisme l’autre

Les caractéristiques de cette idéologie sont nombreuses et ne revêtent pas toutes la même importance, mais elles dessinent très clairement une idéologie totalitaire ayant ses spécificités propres qui ne se retrouvent pas nécessairement telles quelles dans les totalitarisme érigés en momies d’observation comme le stalinisme ou le nazisme. Il ne nous semble pas utile, en effet, de comparer l’Atlantisme à d’autres totalitarismes passés de mode, car on peut être un totalitarisme à part entière sans partager toutes les caractéristiques de ses modèles les plus achevés, modèles qui appartiennent à une autre époque.

Il y a plusieurs degrés dans le totalitarisme atlantiste ; comme il y a plusieurs manières de le subir. Selon que l’on est un peuple d’Afrique ou du Moyen Orient ou un citoyen allemand ou français appartenant à la classe des favorisés, on ne vit pas de la même manière le totalitarisme atlantiste. S’il est globalement meurtrier, il peut être localement bénéfique pour une minorité. Autrement dit,le totalitarisme atlantiste est à géométrie variable (c’est son caractère ambigu) : tantôt impitoyable et brutal avec les uns, il peut être plus tranquille et pourvoyeur de certains bienfaits pour ceux qui le respectent et courbent l’échine devant sa puissance. Il n’en est pas moins présent partout et ne tolère guère la contestation quand cette dernière revêt un caractère menaçant pour son emprise.

Car, si vous pouvez contester ses caractéristiques mineures et jouir, pour se faire, de la plus totale liberté, vous ne serez pas autorisé à vous attaquer, dans la force des faits[1], à ses fondamentaux : (1) le libéralisme financier et la puissance des banques, (2) la domination du dollar dans les échanges internationaux, (3) les guerres de conquête du complexe militaro-industriel – pour, notamment, l’accaparement des ressources naturelles des pays périphérique à ses valeurs - ; (4) l’hégémonisme total des États-Unis (dans les domaines militaire, économique, culturel) de qui il reçoit ses directives et sa raison d’être ; (5) l’alliance indéfectible avec l’Arabie saoudite (principal État terroriste islamique au monde) ; (6) le soutien sans faille au sionisme.

L’Atlantisme, c’est, en effet, un totalitarisme qui définit une liberté encadrée, bornée aux éléments qui ne la remettent pas en cause ; une liberté sans conséquence ; une liberté sans portée contestataire ; une liberté consumériste et libidinale ; une liberté impuissante. C’est une liberté qui nous adresse ce message : « Esclave, fais ce que tu veux, pour autant que tu me baises les pieds et que tu travailles pour moi ».

Il convient, pour juger du caractère totalitaire ou non de l’Atlantisme, de le prendre en bloc et de voir s’il opprime, s’il tue en masse, à un endroit quelconque de cette planète. Il nous importe peu qu’il puisse être tolérable pour des populations entières (les élites occidentales et leurs protégés), s’il doit se rendre terrible et impitoyable pour le reste de l’humanité, sa mansuétude à l’égard de certains ne le rendant pas meilleur ou moins criminel. Ainsi, son ambiguïté est le résultat de la perception que nous pouvons en avoir lorsque nous nous plaçons dans la peau de l’homme blanc Occidental. Car, si nous essayons un instant de nous mettre à la place des Irakiens, des Libyens, des Syriens (parmi tant d’autres), son essence perd son ambiguïté et se révèle pour ce qu’elle est : une puissance criminelle qui pervertit l’humanité et les valeurs démocratiques.*

Portrait du totalitarisme par lui-même

Voyons, à présent, à grands traits et pour nous donner quelques repères, les principales caractéristiques qui nous permettent de dire que l’Atlantisme est bel et bien un totalitarisme.

1. L’Atlantisme est un impérialisme 

“What should that role be? Benevolent global hegemony. Having defeated the « evil empire, » the United States enjoys strategic and ideological predominance. The first objective of U.S. foreign policy should be to preserve and enhance that predominance by strengthening America’s security, supporting its friends, advancing its interests, and standing up for its principles around the world”. Toward a Neo-Reaganite Foreign Policy, de William Kristol et Robert Kagan, Foreign Affairs, juillet/aout 1996.

C’est une idéologie qui sert un État militarisé (les États-Unis[2]) qui a recours (a) à la terreur - guerres préventives, enlèvement, déportations dans des camps de torture, assassinats extrajudiciaires quotidiens, etc.- (b) à la peur – menace terroriste instrumentalisée auprès de ses populations et (c) aux menaces – de rétorsions économiques contre les États récalcitrants, de guerres tous azimuts, de coups d’États – pour imposer sur la surface du globe sa vision ultra-libérale et pour s’accaparer, par la force létale, les ressources naturelles dont elle pense avoir besoin pour sa domination.

C’est une idéologie au service d’une vision hégémonique de la puissance américaine. Cette dernière revendique son caractère hégémonique : (i) dans le domaine militaire, à travers les think tanks néoconservateurs comme le Project for a New American Century (et sa volonté affichée d’empêcher l’émergence d’une puissance capable de rivaliser avec celle des États-Unis) ou l’American Entreprise Institute et, enfin, à travers sa doctrine militaire officielle intitulée Full Spectrum Dominance ; (ii) dans le domaine économique et financier avec, entre autre, l’imposition du dollar comme monnaie d’échange international ; (iii) dans le domaine culturel, par la mise en place d’un programme de corruption des élites occidentales et internationales à travers, notamment, l’opération Mockingbird[3] dans les années 50 et le National Endowment for Democracy aujourd’hui.

L’Atlantisme, adhère, sans piper mot et comme un bon soldat, à cette projection planétaire d’un ego qui n’est pas le sien. Sans l’Atlantisme la vision hégémonique des États-Unis ne pourrait pas avoir le caractère global qu’elle a aujourd’hui. L’Atlantisme participe pleinement à l’ensemble des crimes commis au nom de cet ego démesuré, soit directement, soit en les justifiant ou en les transfigurant en ‘actions humanitaires’ auprès de ses peuples.

2. L’Atlantisme est un terrorisme 

“À la fin de la guerre froide, une série d’enquêtes judiciaires menées sur de mystérieux actes de terrorisme commis en France contraignit le Premier ministre italien Giulio Andreotti à confirmer l’existence d’une armée secrète en France ainsi que dans d’autres pays d’Europe occidentale membres de l’Organisation du Traité de l’Atlantique Nord (OTAN). Coordonnée par la section des opérations militaires clandestines de l’OTAN, cette armée secrète avait été mise sur pied par l’Agence centrale de renseignement américaine (CIA) et par les services secrets britanniques (MI6 ou SIS) au lendemain de la seconde guerre mondiale afin de lutter contre le communisme en Europe de l’Ouest.[…] Si l’on en croit les sources secondaires aujourd’hui disponibles, les armées secrètes se sont retrouvées impliquées dans toute une série d’actions terroristes et de violations des droits de l’Homme pour lesquelles elles ont accusé les partis de gauche afin de les discréditer aux yeux des électeurs. Ces opérations, qui visaient à répandre un climat de peur parmi les populations, incluaient des attentats à la bombe dans des trains ou sur des marchés (en France), l’usage systématique de la torture sur les opposants au régime (en Turquie), le soutien aux tentatives de coups d’État de l’extrême droite (en Grèce et en Turquie) et le passage à tabac de groupes d’opposants.” Les Armées secrètes de l’OTAN, Daniele Ganser, Éditions Demi- Lune, page 24.

Des attentats des années de plomb en Italie au conflit en Afghanistan, de la guerre du Kosovo à l’agression contre la Libye et de la déstabilisation de la Syrie à la préparation d’une attaque contre l’Iran[4], le terrorisme est l’un des moyens privilégiés par l’Atlantisme pour l’accomplissement de ses objectifs.

Pour s’imposer à l’Europe de l’après-guerre, l’Atlantisme n’a pas hésité à utiliser la méthode terroriste des attentats sous faux drapeaux : en Italie, par exemple, pour décrédibiliser les forces de gauche les Atlantistes ont posé des bombes, dans les années 60 (attentat de la piazza Fontana à Florence), 70 et 80 (attentat de la gare de Bologne) dans des lieux publics avec l’intention de tuer des innocents. Avec ses relais médiatiques adéquats l’Atlantisme a pu faire passer ces meurtres pour l’œuvre de groupuscules d’extrême gauche et justifier, ainsi, la mise à l’écart de la pensée progressive dans ces pays et assurer le triomphe de leur idéologie.

Aujourd’hui, pour déstabiliser les pays qui contestent l’un de ses six piliers, il instrumentalise à grande échelle, sous l’impulsion des États-Unis, le terrorisme islamique (principalement wahhabito-salafiste) avec l’aide de ses alliés que sont l’Arabie saoudite et le Qatar : en l’a vu à l’œuvre, notamment, en Serbie, en Tchétchénie, en Libye et en Syrie. Il utilise le même levier pour créer des poches de terrorisme qui lui permettent (i) de s’enrichir en vendant des armes et des conseils dans le cadre de la guerre contre le terrorisme, (ii) d’étendre le nombre de ses interventions et bases militaires (celles de l’Otan ou seulement des États-Unis, selon les situations) là où il y voit un intérêt géostratégique et (iii) de donner de la substance à la théorie du choc des civilisations, ce qui lui permet d’obtenir de ses populations l’approbation de ses politiques conquérantes.

Le terrorisme est, plus généralement, au cœur de la doctrine et des stratégies militaires des démocraties occidentales et tout particulièrement de celles des États-Unis (Shock and Awe doctrine) qui les mettent en œuvre, notamment, par l’entremise de l’OTAN (pour plus de détails sur ce sujet, nous renvoyons à un article précédent : Dommages Collatéraux : la face cachée d’un terrorisme d’État).

On le voit bien ici, l’Atlantisme n’est jamais que l’exécutant docile, mais consentant, de l’impérialisme américain à qui il emprunte tous les concepts (guerre contre le terrorisme, choc des civilisations) et les stratégies (instrumentalisation du terrorisme islamique). Quand il le faut (pour gérer son opinion publique interne), l’impérialisme américain laisse aux Atlantistes européens jouer les premiers rôle, mais en apparence seulement, comme en Libye où Nicolas Sarkozy et David Cameron ont rivalisé d’initiatives pour se mettre en avant, alors même que toutes les opérations militaires étaient dirigées, en réalité, par l’armée américaine.

3. L’Atlantisme est un racisme 

“Cette logique du ‘Musulman coupable par nature’, parce que Musulman, est à la base de l’institutionnalisation de la torture par les États-Unis qui peuvent ainsi soumettre à des traitements inhumains des milliers de personnes à travers le monde (Guantanamo n’étant que l’un de ces camps de torture dirigés par l’administration américaine) sur la base d’un simple soupçon de ‘terrorisme’, soupçon qui ne fait l’objet d’aucun contrôle judiciaire. La culpabilité d’un Musulman n’a pas besoin d’être prouvée, elle se déduit de son être même. Il s’agit là d’une forme d’essentialisme, qui est lui-même une forme radicale de racisme”. L’esprit du temps ou l’islamophobie radicale.

Pour justifier sa guerre contre le terrorisme et le choc des civilisations l’Atlantisme stigmatise l’Islam et essentialise le Musulman sous des traits peu flatteurs : le Musulman serait par nature un ennemi des Occidentaux, voire du genre humain, des valeurs démocratiques et de la paix. Une fois essentialisé, il est plus facile d’aller le tuer ; les populations occidentales ne voyant dans les souffrances des Musulmans que les justes châtiments dus à des peuples racailles.

L’islamophobie, le nationalisme pro-occidental et le sionisme – qui est une forme de racisme et d’ethnicisme – sont au cœur de la matrice idéologique atlantiste. Le plus étonnant, sans doute, et le plus inquiétant, est que ces éléments là sont partagés par les élites (et pour partie par les peuples occidentaux) par-delà les clivages politiques droite-gauche. On peut venir à l’islamophobie radicale par des voix opposées : le défenseur de la laïcité y viendra au nom de sa haine des religions, le social-démocrate bobo au nom du féminisme ou de la défense de l’homosexualité ; le conservateur au nom de la protection de ses racines menacées ; le sioniste au nom du droit d’un peuple élu à son espace vital, même si cela doit passer par le nettoyage ethnique d’un autre peuple, etc.

4. L’Atlantisme est un anti-humanisme 

“Depuis 2001, l’Europe a failli à défendre les droits de l’homme sur son propre sol, et s’est rendue complice de graves violations du Droit international au nom de la « guerre au terrorisme ». Des citoyens européens ou étrangers ont été enlevés par les services secrets américains sur le sol européen en dehors de toute disposition légale – ce sont les « extraordinary renditions » – et ont été emmenés dans des prisons secrètes de la CIA dont certaines sont situées dans un pays européen”. ReOpen911.info

Il s’appuie sur le dogme de l’infaillibilité démocratique qui veut que les Occidentaux ne puissent mal agir ni commettre de crimes de masse puisqu’ils représenteraient des sociétés démocratiques ouvertes. Ils sont donc libres de bombarder civils et cibles économiques, d’assassiner des citoyens à travers le monde, de déstabiliser des régimes qui ne leur plaisent pas et, en se faisant, ils ne feront jamais qu’exercer leur droit du meilleur, autre appellation, plus aristocratique, du droit du plus fort. L’autre n’est pas le semblable ou le frère humain ; l’autre c’est l’adversaire, l’ennemi, un être non civilisé, à peine un être. On peut allègrement nier son humanité et le traiter comme une variable géopolitique.

Vaincre ne lui suffit pas, il lui faut déshumaniser, torturer, humilier, violer, dégrader, détruire. Les Atlantistes ont collaboré militairement, économiquement, diplomatiquement, médiatiquement à tous les projets inhumains des États-Unis :  pour s’en tenir à des exemples récents, on pourra citer le camp de torture de Guantanamo (devenu depuis camp d’entraînement de djihadistes au service de l’empire), Abu Ghraib en Irak et l’humiliation des prisonniers, la mort filmée de Kadhafi, les exécutions sommaires (par drones notamment), les enlèvements réalisés par la CIA sur le sol européen (extraordinary rendition) et les dommages collatéraux en Afghanistan, etc.

Dans un autre ordre d’idée, on peut également dire que l’Atlantisme est une aliénation consumériste : l’homme n’est pas sacré ; on peut le tuer pour accomplir des objectifs économiques ou géostratégiques. Cette désacralisation de l’homme qui se fait au profit de la marchandise (dont les marques sont, elles, intouchables) est par essence mortifère. Le profit est plus puissant que l’humanité : en ce qui concerne la France, on pourra évoquer les exemples du scandale du sang contaminé et du Mediator du groupe Servier.

 

Hollande et Jules Ferry

Ce n’est pas un hasard si François Hollande a choisi Jules Ferry comme saint-patron laïque de sa présidence normale. Jules Ferry représente exactement l’idéal atlantiste : l’homme qui est capable d’utiliser la démocratie pour servir les banques et le colonialisme tout en donnant le change au peuple avec quelques concessions sociétales de gauche. Il ne portera jamais atteinte aux piliers de la puissance bancaire et aux capitalistes-colons. Il est conquérant pour les puissants, raciste et a une bonne conscience à toute épreuve malgré les crimes de ses amis partis coloniser les rivages lointains.

 

5. L’Atlantisme est un néo-colonialisme

Si le bras armé de l’Atlantisme est l’Otan, son bras économique est constitué du binome FMI-Banque Mondiale. Ces deux institutions (aux mains des États-Unis et des Européens) ont, pour maintenir les pays en voie de développement dans la dépendance des Occidentaux, utilisé les 3 leviers principaux suivants[5] : (i) l’endettement des États et des peuples[6], (ii) la privatisation de leurs économies et des fonctions régaliennes de l’État au profit des grandes entreprises occidentales (les fameux plans d’ajustement structurels) et (iii) l’ouverture forcée de leurs économies au libre échange et à la concurrence mondiale (alors même qu’ils n’y sont pas préparés et se trouvent vis-à-vis des Occidentaux dans une situation certaine de vulnérabilité).

L’Atlantisme commet des crimes économiques de masse en connaissance de cause pour le profit de quelques élus : en se faisant il démontre son allégeance aux principes de l’ultra-libéralisme prôné par la première puissance mondiale qui subordonne les valeurs humaines au fondamentalisme de marché.*

Pour parvenir à s’imposer l’Atlantisme a besoin (i) de subvertir les souverainetés des nations européennes et (ii) de maîtriser les opinions publiques de ces nations. Il lui faut contourner, affaiblir ou pervertir toutes les composantes démocratiques des sociétés de notre continent pour pouvoir triompher des insoumissions, des doutes, des contestations auxquels il pourrait faire face. Autrement dit, l’Atlantisme s’attaque directement et en profondeur aux fondements de la démocratie des peuples d’Europe à qui il est demandé de suivre aveuglément une idéologie cachée (parce qu’elle est honteuse), innommée (parce qu’elle est innommable) et qui les dépouille de leur souveraineté et de leur libre arbitre. 

L’Atlantisme subvertit les souverainetés nationales 

Sans parler du nombre incalculable de gouvernements démocratiquement élus renversés par les États-Unis avec l’aide directe ou l’approbation tacite de leurs alliés Atlantistes depuis 1945 à travers le monde, et pour se limiter à l’Europe, on peut signaler les cas de la Grèce et de la construction européenne.

En Grèce, aux lendemains de la seconde guerre mondiale, les Britanniques et les États-Unis appuient des mouvements d’extrême droite et d’anciens collaborateurs des Nazis afin d’empêcher la prise de pouvoir légale par les mouvements démocratiques progressistes. Les puissances occidentales atlantistes incitent à la guerre civile qui se solde par la victoire de leurs protégés et par près de 200 000 morts.  Après une évolution démocratique vers la fin des années 60, les Américains, avec l’aide des puissances européennes et grâce à leurs réseaux atlantistes, installent au pouvoir, en 1967, une junte militaire qui proclame le règne de l’ordre moral[7] et la fin de l’ouverture démocratique.

La construction européenne menée par Jean Monnet est avant tout un projet atlantiste. Il y avait bien d’autres manières de conduire la réalisation d’une Europe plus unie. L’Atlantisme a fait le choix de l’impuissance européenne pour ne pas contrarier les ambitions hégémoniques des États-Unis. L’Atlantisme a réduit la souveraineté européenne et mis au pas tous les mouvements indépendants, gaullistes, souverainistes, communistes, qu’ils fussent de gauche ou de droite. Il a imposé ses dirigeants à tous les niveaux de la bureaucratie européenne et à la tête des principaux États de l’Europe qui ont imposé des traités inégaux mêmes lorsque ceux-ci ont été rejetés par les peuples (comme en 2005 avec le Traité constitutionnel).

L’Atlantisme européen a réduit à néant, par étapes successives, l’ensemble des axes de souveraineté dont disposaient les États-nations d’Europe (et donc l’espace démocratique des peuples européens).

Il s’est ainsi attaqué à la souveraineté (i) électorale – le principal organe de décisions est non élu : la Commission ; les traités rejetés par les peuples sont néanmoins imposés ; par la mise à l’écart systématique de la démocratie directe au profit de la démocratie représentative – (ii) monétaire – une banque centrale indépendante des peuples ou de leurs élus qui ne prête pas directement aux États membres qui doivent se financer à des taux plus élevés sur les marchés financiers-, (iii) budgétaire – par l’imposition de la règle d’or et le contrôle des budgets nationaux par une commission composée de technocrates non élus – et (iv) militaire – intégration de l’ensemble des pays européens dans l’Otan.

Le dernier axe de souveraineté auquel l’Atlantisme se soit attaqué est celui de la souveraineté militaire française, la France ayant résisté plus longtemps que les autres nations européennes au rouleau compresseur de l’Atlantisme (ce fut la parenthèse gaulliste). Aujourd’hui les Atlantistes proposent la fusion entre le français EADS et l’anglais BAE afin de retirer à la France le contrôle complet de sa chaîne industrielle d’armement. Demain, ils mettront à mal la dissuasion nucléaire française en s’aidant du prétexte écologique anti-nucléaire.

En France, la mise au pas des non-atlantistes s’est achevée sous la présidence Sarkozy. La diplomatie (avec à sa tête Bernard Kouchner), l’armée, les médias (grâce aux efforts de Christine Ockrent) ont été presque entièrement débarrassés de leurs composantes non altantistes. Hollande, en bon chien de garde de l’Atlantisme, parachèvera l’entreprise.

 

La French-American Foundation et les Atlantico-Boys

La French American Foundation est une organisation à but non lucratif qui se consacre depuis 1976 a dénicher en France les hommes et femmes d’influence qui sont susceptibles de porter les couleurs de l’Atlantisme. 

Quelques anciens Young Leaders de la French American Foundation qui nous gouvernent en ce moment : François Hollande (1996), Arnaud Montebourg (2000), Pierre Moscovici (1996). Dans l’opposition, le plus en vue est Jean-Francois Copé.

Une liste non exhaustive des Atlantico-Boys en France (autres que ceux déjà mentionnés) et de leurs relais : Alain Finkielkraut, André Glucksmann, Bernard Kouchner, Bernard-Henri Lévy, Alexandre Adler, Caroline Fourest, Frédéric Encel, Philippe Val, Francois Heisbourg, Mohamed Sifaoui, Jean-Claude Casanova, Pierre Rosanvallon, Alain Minc, Jean Daniel, Pierre-André Taguieff ; la revue Commentaire, la Fondation Saint Simon (dissoute en 1999), le Cercle de l’Oratoire, l’Institut Turgot, l’Atlantis Institute, les revues Le Meilleur des Mondes, La Règle du Jeu, Le Nouvel Observateur, Le Monde, Libération, etc.

 

L’Atlantisme est un contrôle et une manipulation des foules

“The conscious and intelligent manipulation of the organized habits and opinions of the masses is an important element in democratic society. Those who manipulate this unseen mechanism of society constitute an invisible government which is the true ruling power of our country”. Propaganda, par Edward Bernays, 1928. 

“L’Atlantisme a pris naissance au départ de la guerre froide. Dans les années 50, un vaste programme nommé Opération Mockingbird, aujourd’hui bien documenté, a été mis en place par la CIA pour infiltrer les médias nationaux et étrangers, et influencer leurs contenus afin que ces derniers se montrent favorables aux intérêts américains. La méthodologie consistait à placer des rapports rédigés à partir de renseignements fournis par la CIA auprès de journalistes conscients ou inconscients de cette manœuvre. Ces informations étaient ensuite relayées par ces journalistes et par les agences de presse.” ; 11-Septembre : de la misère journalistique à la logique de collabos, de Lalo Vespera, ReOpen911.info

Sans la collaboration des médias, il ne serait possible à l’Atlantisme d’imposer ses fondamentaux dans l’esprit de l’opinion publique. Les médias font partie intégrante de la machine de guerre atlantiste. Pour créer le consentement et l’unanimisme dans une société ouverte il convient de maîtriser la production de l’information. Pour cela il est nécessaire de mettre à la tête des principaux médias des serviteurs zélés de l’Atlantisme. En France, dans le secteur privé des médias, seuls quelques grands groupes industriels appartenant à la nébuleuse oligarchique sont aux commandes (des vendeurs d’armes et des industriels qui vivent en partie grâce aux commandes de l’État) : il est naturel chez eux de servir les intérêts du plus fort (la période de la collaboration avec les Nazis est là pour nous le rappeler[8]). Dans le secteur public, le Président de la République ou ses fondés de pouvoirs choisissent leurs courroies de transmission humaines qui insuffleront l’esprit de soumission dans les rouages de la machine à désinformer.

Les pourvoyeurs de l’information commettent des crimes médiatiques lorsqu’ils se font les relais pur et simple de la propagande atlantiste, comme nous l’avons vu lors de la guerre contre la Serbie, de l’invasion de l’Afghanistan et du bombardement de la Libye par l’Otan, de la guerre en Irak, de la déstabilisation de la Syrie (toujours par l’Otan) ou comme nous le constatons à propos du nettoyage ethnique continu dont sont victimes les Palestiniens. Dans chacun de ces cas, les médias cautionnent les explications officielles, leur donnent force et crédibilité, mettent en avant des intentions humanitaires, alors même qu’elles recouvrent des crimes qui devraient soulever notre indignation et aboutir à la mise en cause judiciaire et politique de leurs principaux responsables.

Le tabou créé autour du 11-Septembre est symptomatique de la manière dont s’échafaude l’unanimisme dans une société où la liberté d’expression et la diversité des points de vue sont sensées régner. On démonise les questionneurs, on pourchasse les têtes brûlées, on les rend responsables des pires crimes du siècle dernier, on les ridiculise. On plante dans l’opinion publique des barrières psychologiques infranchissables (à travers, notamment, les accusations d’antisémitisme, de négationnisme et de révisionnisme) pour que la conscience citoyenne n’aille pas voir ce qu’il y a derrière ; on érige des murs dans les esprits pour enfermer leur consentement dans le champ des possibles atlantistes.

Il y a une forme d’intolérance radicale face à la pensée alternative maintenue enfermée dans le Web. Cette intolérance est radicale en ce sens qu’elle stigmatise les déviants et tente d’en faire des parias à mettre au ban de la société et qu’elle parvient à fermer presque totalement l’accès aux grands médias qui comptent à la pensée dissidente lorsqu’il s’agit d’évoquer et de discuter les fondamentaux de l’Atlantisme.

 

La psyché des Européens au service de l’Atlantisme

« Les Européens ne se sont toujours pas libérés psychologiquement de l’état de dépendance dans lequel ils se sont laissé prendre au sortir de la seconde guerre mondiale. Sous le prétexte que les États-Unis sont venus libérer les Européens il y a plus de 60 ans, il faudrait aujourd’hui que ces derniers abandonnent toute volonté d’indépendance, toute aspiration à choisir un modèle de développement alternatif. Il n’y a aucune logique dans une telle attitude. Faudrait-il que les États-Unis soient éternellement soumis à la France au prétexte que c’est grâce aux armes, aux finances et, en définitive, à la flotte de Louis XVI[9] que les Américains ont pu obtenir leur indépendance de l’Angleterre ? Que les Européens soient reconnaissants pour l’implication des États-Unis dans les deux Guerres Mondiales, cela est normal et bienheureux. Comme il est normal, également, que les Américains soient reconnaissant à l’égard de la France pour le soutien que ce pays leur a apporté à un moment décisif de leur histoire[10]. Mais la reconnaissance ne doit pas déboucher sur la dépendance et la vassalité. Est-il sain que les élites européennes se laissent maintenir dans cette dépendance ou ne cherchent tout simplement pas à la contrer ? Le simple respect de soi-même devrait suffire pour que chacun refuse de se considérer comme le sujet d’une autre personne. Accepter de se soumettre est une attitude morale et psychologique pernicieuse et humiliante. Il y a, en effet, une certaine humiliation à se laisser ainsi dicter son mode de vie et à aller chercher en permanence ses références culturelles, politiques, économiques outre-atlantique sans véritablement questionner leurs valeurs et leurs bienfaits. », La Démocratie ambiguë.*

Conclure pour en finir

Il ne s’agit là que d’un florilège de caractéristiques atlantistes fort incomplet, mais dont les principaux traits nous semblent dresser, à eux seuls, le portrait d’un totalitarisme contemporain non moins dangereux et effrayant que ses prédécesseurs. Qu’il s’invente un ennemi réel ou imaginaire, ou un ennemi qui devient réel à force d’être imaginé (et souhaité), on ne peut excuser les crimes de l’Atlantisme sous le prétexte fallacieux que son alter ego dans le mal (l’islamisme radical) en commettrait également ou que son modèle (le totalitarisme impérial de son maître) lui intimerait l’ordre de les perpétrer. L’Atlantisme a besoin du crime de l’autre pour commettre le sien en toute impunité et avec bonne conscience.

Au bout de sa logique, il y a la mort des autres, la guerre généralisée, la misère du plus grand nombre. L’Atlantisme est bel et bien une idéologie génocidaire, au même titre que l’impérialisme américain. Caractérisation exagérée qui décrédibilise celui qui l’utilise diront certains ? Galvaudage d’un crime qu’on ne peut évoquer à la légère diront d’autres ? Posons-nous alors cette simple question :combien de morts et de souffrances à son crédit (comme auteur ou complice) ? La réponse de l’historien est sans détour : des millions de victimes depuis la fin de la seconde guerre mondiale ; des millions depuis la chute du mur de Berlin[11] et un long fleuve d’ombres, de sang et de souffrances qui ne cessent de couler sur tous les continents.

La lutte contre l’Atlantisme est la grande aventure humaine de ce début de siècle pour nous autres Européens. À chacun d’y prendre part selon ses moyens et ses autres croyances. Que l’on croit au ciel ou que l’on n’y croit pas, que l’on soit misérable ou fortuné, d’ici ou d’ailleurs, chacun peut jouer sa partition dans le combat contre la fatalité de l’Atlantisme qui traînera avec elle, si cela est nécessaire à son triomphe, les cadavres de la démocratie et de la paix jusqu’aux charniers du capitalisme. Le combat contre l’Atlantisme est un humanisme.

Guillaume de Rouville

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[1] Les paroles des minorités alternatives sont rarement des faits au sens ou ceux-ci pourraient changer le cours des choses.

[2] Les États-Unis ont un budget militaire annuel équivalent à celui des autres pays combinés.

[3] Voir infra.

[4] En septembre 2012, les États-Unis ont retiré de leur liste des entités considérées comme terroristes l’organisation dissidente iranienne Moudjahidin-e Khalk (MEK) qui perpétue régulièrement des attentats sur le sol iranien.

[5] L’Europe tente, notamment, d’imposer cela à travers ces Accords de Partenariat Économique.

[6] Pour les peuples, par le développement incontrôlé de la microfinance.

[7] À ce sujet voir le film de Costa Gavras : Z.

[8]  Voir : “Le Choix de la Défaite”, d’Annie Lacroix-Riz, Éditions Armand Colin, 2010.

[9] C’est grâce à l’appui décisif de la flotte française, dirigée par le Comte de Rochambeau, que les États-Unis remporteront la bataille de Yorktown en 1781, tournant majeur de la Guerre d’Indépendance.

[10] Lors de la Guerre d’Indépendance des États-Unis contre la Grande-Bretagne, entre 1775 et 1783.

[11] À titre d’exemples : le génocide des indigènes au Guatemala après le coup d’État de 1954 ; l’embargo sur l’Irak qui tua des centaines de milliers d’enfants sur une période de 10 ans ; le dépeçage du Congo depuis plus de 15 ans avec l’aide des grands groupes occidentaux qui a, jusqu’à présent, coûté la vie à près de 4 millions de civils).

A Concepção Sagrada dos Espaços

A Concepção Sagrada dos Espaços

por Orazio M. Gnerre

Ex: http://legio-victrix.blogspot.be/ 

Texto da palestra de Orazio Gnerre, do Instituto Millenium, no IIIº Encontro Nacional Evoliano em João Pessoa.

Boa noite à todos,

Com a permissão do público e do professor Dugin, começarei.

Nós definimos o tema que escolhemos para a nossa discussão, "a concepção do espaço sagrado." Como você bem sabe, a escola de pensamento do tradicionalismo integrante baseia-se sobre um determinado assunto: os conceitos polares opostos subjacentes à abordagem dialética da realidade humana são dois simetricamente opostos - Tradição e Modernidade. Por Tradição compreendemos de modo geral a abordagem do "sagrado" ao real, uma leitura simbólica da mesma que, trabalhando com o que Carl Schmitt chamou de "catolicismo romano e forma política" princípio da representação, consideraremos o plano como um reflexo do mundo imanente transcendente, como expresso sistematicamente pela filosofia platônica. É um erro, porém definir o conservadorismo como um ramo da filosofia derivada do idealismo platônico porque, em sua visão ortodoxa, é considerada a ciência que estuda a manifestação do Uno pré-existente imanente - uma revelação eterna - e as estradas a fim de acessar sua experiência direta. A abordagem tradicional também pode ser definida cosmologicamente. A modernidade é a ruptura drástica com a concepção de existência simbólica e espiritual: a chave para o que não é mais cosmológico, como é na concepção tradicional, e sim mecânico. Se o pensamento tradicional é generalizante, representante, universalizante e essencialmente metafísico, o pensamento moderno, como seu oposto radical, manifesta-se como fragmentado, mecanicista e potencialmente niilista. Digo "basicamente" niilista porque, no desenrolar do fenômeno moderno, não esgota as possibilidades (ou pelo menos, não tivemos a oportunidade de conhecer este evento), mas aprofunda-se, expandindo sua influência e aumentando o grau de entropia que contém, provando ser o tempo da grande confusão prevista por René Guénon. Mais do que um sociólogo, incluindo Jedlowsky, advertiu-nos o fato de que a suposta pós-modernidade não é outra coisa senão o fenômeno moderno que é o apenas aparentemente negar a si mesmo, ele se quebra e se expande, criando uma nuvem de "modernidade diversas", e, aparentemente contrário ao contrário, de fato, todos os participantes do mesmo projeto e relativista perspectivista que, em aparente oposição ao primeiro evento universalista e racionalista da modernidade, na verdade, partes da natureza e cartesiana subjetivista. O professor Dugin, em seu discurso na conferência internacional de Moscou "Contra o mundo pós-moderno", tem bem definida a pós-modernidade como a queda da modernidade, então a expansão, a hipertrofia do princípio da quantidade que caracteriza a própria modernidade. Também o professor Dugin tem repetidamente salientou a necessidade de uma restauração da categoria filosófica do objetivismo, em oposição à natureza subjetivista da modernidade: na verdade ele não é o único que viu no universalismo marxista e no objetivismo (assim como na derrubada da manifestação idealista tripartite do Espírito) a continuação de categorias clássicas e tradicionais de pensamento. Cito neste caso o filósofo italiano Costanzo Preve que, em conjunto com Domenico Losurdo, representam a aresta de corte efectivo da Europa neomarxista. 

 

Se, como já dissemos, Tradição e Modernidade se opõem totalmente (e não dialeticamente), aqui é que ambos se projetam de cada fenômeno, porque, na verdade, são duas chaves reais para a leitura totalizante. É evidente, portanto, que deve haver um "sagrado" (tradicional e religioso) e "profano" (moderno e niilista), mesmo com o conceito de espaço, a importância de lugares, a interpretação providencial de áreas geográficas. O principal trabalho a que deve ser feita referência quando se trata desta diferença de abordagem é "O sagrado e o profano", texto esclarecedor do historiador romeno de religiões, famoso por ser ligado ao movimento da Legião do Miguel Arcanjo, professor, então, University, em Chicago, Mircea Eliade. Em seu texto explicativo, ele salienta as diferenças irreprimíveis que existem entre um homem religioso e secular, entre um homem e um homem da tradição da modernidade, na consideração do tempo, da vida, e lugares. Especialmente este último tema é que nos interessa em particular.

 

 

Eliade parte de um pressuposto geral, que é a base da consideração do fator espaço do homem religioso, o homem da Tradição: o mundo não é real. Neste sentido, a única coisa que o homem tradicional via como real, no entanto, era o Sagrado. A objetividade hegemônica do sagrado era aquele pelo qual o homem pudesse fazer o mundo real. O homem tradicional foi o vencedor real do mundo, o verdadeiro governante dos elementos (como ele era, interiorizados no pentagrama, que milênios mais tarde tornou-se o símbolo do Império Soviético sacral), como o filho dos deuses. O antropocentrismo tradicional, longe de ser semelhante ao do Iluminismo, ao contrário do último reconheceu a primazia do sagrado, como a única verdade incontestável. Como para os seres humanos, também criados devem ser realizados, "tornar-se o que você é", afirmando que o neoplatônico Santo Agostinho chamou "o poder" - estar no poder. E ele foi o homem, na verdade, o "Subcreator" (nas palavras de John Ronald Reuel Tolkien) que consagrou lugares, fez-se sagrado, tornando o domínio do Ser brilhante, e participando da criação de Deus também na concepção agostiniana, na verdade, a única coisa que se possa imaginar está sendo a adesão (que é a revelação do Santo), onde o mal é profundo como forte é a sua separação. Mesmo hoje, arar a terra perpetuamente consagrada ao Divino de nossos pais, cujos espíritos, anjos e santos padroeiros intercedem porque não afundam no abismo da não-existência. A perene conquista do Mundo do homem tradicional, então passou através da socialização do próprio mundo. O desenvolvimento desta verdade metafísica foi implementada após a revelação de Cristo, no ideal de evangelização ou Jihad. Útil a este respeito é lembrar que, para o homem tradicional, sendo o mundo espiritual mais importante e mais "real" do que o material, a primeira batalha era travada arduamente para conquistar a nível interno, uma luta até a morte pelo assassinato de seu Ego: esse foi o simbolismo de que também tratava o Barão Julius Evola, a que esta reunião é dedicada, a Grande Guerra Santa (para São Bernardo de Claraval, um dos grandes mestres do monasticismo ocidental, que são inspirados pelos cistercienses e trapistas) ou o Grande Jihad (o profeta Maomé). A corrida espacial foi qualitativamente inferior à horizontal para vertical, a conquista de seu microcosmo, a sua transferência sobre o domínio de si mesmo do indivíduo: a sacralização de si mesmo. Como o Buda disse: ". Entre aquele que vence na batalha mil vezes mil inimigos, e apenas aquele que vence a si mesmo, este é o melhor dos vencedores de cada batalha" . Qualitativamente inferior, mas não menos importante, a conquista horizontal, que Eliade identifica com o landname da tradição germânica, foi o processo pelo qual o homem subtraíu lugares no domínio da água, sem forma, do escuro, para render-se ao domínio da forma, da terra, e da luz. Igualmente Eliade considerava que estes dois princípios arquetípicos existem não apenas no plano horizontal, mas também sobre o eixo vertical. O nível horizontal é expresso pelo conceito axis mundi, o eixo do mundo, o centro radical da realidade. É importante que o eixo do mundo é único para si mesmo, ou localizado em um lugar (poderia realmente existir ...) que pode ser verdadeiramente chamado de centro de todo o mundo. No Mundo da Tradição tudo é relativo e tudo é absoluto, porque é o completo domínio do símbolo. É no templo que o homem tradicional no centro de seu mundo, que é o templo axis mundi. Não poderia ser de outra forma, para todos aqueles que vivem na orientação ao Sagrado: O templo é o seu ponto de referência, como um lugar de encontro entre a terra e os céus. Mas o templo, sendo o eixo do mundo, não só tem o valor de Scala Coeli, a Escada aos Céus: ele também ligou o homem à polaridade oposta, o mundo do informe, as águas primordiais. Esta é a ambivalência simbólica entre os pináculos das igrejas e suas criptas. O templo é de forma que, ao mesmo tempo, permite que você suba ao céu e retenha a água. É uma função mística e exorcista.

É interessante ver que todos estes arquétipos tradicionais nós podemos encontrar também em um pensador substancialmente “laico”, embora pessoalmente muito religioso. Falamos do já mencionado católico alemão Carl Schmitt, uma das mentes mais agudas do século passado, a quem o estudo do direito e mesmo da geopolítica devem muito. Ele abordou o problema espacial/territorial em duas obras suas, que lembramos serem “O Nomos da Terra” e “Terra e Mar”, este último escrito na forma de conto. Ele identificava duas fases da história da Civilização, que chamava respectivamente terrestre e marítima, e que nós podemos associar facilmente ao Mundo da Tradição e o da Modernidade. Segundo Schmitt estas duas concepções não estão ligadas somente a limites históricos, mas também a vínculos territoriais. Este é o motivo pelo qual a concepção terrestre está estritamente ligada ao bloco continental europeu e asiático, enquanto a marítima remete à Grande Ilha, a anglosfera que define o bloco anglo-americano. A primeira concepção, a terrestre, é ligada substancialmente aos princípios tradicionais do Sagrado (que em sentido político, se transpõem na comunidade orgânica, na hierarquia, na legitimidade, e no domínio da Forma e da Política), a segunda ao invés prova ser a manifestação do profano (nas suas expressões sociais de individualismo, igualitarismo, no domínio do informe e na ausência da norma). É aqui que se demonstra claramente o quanto a contraposição da Terra consagrada e da Água está presente também no pensamento de Schmitt. Não é casual que a manifestação da modernidade ocorra gradualmente, por meio da descoberta progressiva do novo mundo. Este é um argumento que tem sido aprofundado, partindo da geografia sagrada, pelo professor Dugin, e disso falaremos mais tarde. A Norma se demonstra em Schmitt com a legítima apropriação do território por parte de uma comunidade humana, que acaba sendo precisamente a consagração da mesma: é aqui que retorna o conceito já citado de landname. O landname é válido, porém somente na estabilidade: é a estabilidade que garante a legitimidade da norma (pelo mesmo motivo pelo qual o não se ater ao ordenamento jurídico pré-existente durante uma revolução política não é considerado ilegítimo). É assim que o landname só possui sentido na perspectiva terrestre. Um dos personagens pelos quaiso pensador alemão foi mais influenciados foi o nobre espanhol Donoso Cortés, herdeiro do que foi o último baluarte contra o avanço do poder marítimo anglo-saxão, a Santa Espanha Católica. Cortés, diplomata europeu de imenso calibre, homem político sem igual e agudo pensador, conhecia bem a realidade das revoluções igualitárias de 1848 e os ambientes da Restauração, considerando que entreteve também uma correspondência com o chanceler Metternich. Nele, feroz opositor da deriva anárquica europeia, Schmitt vê o defensor por excelência da Norma, da Lei. Como Schmitt, também Cortés também estava a procura daqueles que poderiam deter o avanço do anticristo, o processo de decadência total, o kat-echon, um papel que na tradição russa é preenchido pelo Imperador, e ele o identificou (com ou sem razão) em Napoleão III. O próprio Cortés define a Inglaterra como “a Grande Meretriz” (ou seja, Babilônia), que, como é sabido, na simbologia apocalíptica indica a mãe do Anticristo. Schmitt destaca várias vezes, em “Terra e Mar”, a natureza genealógica que liga o Império Britânico aos Estados Unidos da América. A conexão resulta então muito simples, em pleno acordo com todos os movimentos de resistência à Nova Ordem Mundial, que veem nos EUA “o Grande Satã”. Na Itália há dois livros dedicados ao ensinamento antimundialista que se pode tirar do Barão Evola, um de Carlo Terracciano, conhecido e amigo do Professor Dugin, e o outro de Pietro Carini. A lição de Cortés, entre outras coisas, está ligada profundamente à obra majestosa do primeiro opositor da Revolução Francesa (etapa central do processo subversivo na Europa), Joseph de Maistre, embaixador da Savóia junto ao czar. Ele e seu irmão Xavier se comprometeram firmemente ao lado da Rússia na luta contra o jacobinismo, um no sentido político, o outro no sentido militar.

 

 

Na abordagem sacra ao estudo dos espaços, não é possível deixar de recordar o papel desempenhado pelo presente professor Aleksandr Dugin, uma importante mente de nosso século, que abarca da geopolítica à filosofia, da sociologia à metafísica. Ele, como bem explica em muitos dos seus textos, está profundamente empenhado em difundir através de suas obras o elo estreito e direto que existe entre a geopolítica e a geografia sagrada, partindo especialmente das teorias do geopolítico alemão Karl Haushofer, que, sob a guarda do alpinista e estrategista britânico Mackinder, teorizava a integração política e militar do bloco continental europeu e asiático (que ele chamou de Heartland – Coração da Terra), contra a integração igual e oposta da World-Island (a Ilha-Mundo anglo-americana). Não definindo com o termo guenoniano de “ciência sagrada” a geopolítica, o professor Dugin a enquadra no âmbito daquelas pseudo-ciências que, por não terem sido completamente racionalizadas, e preservando ainda um alto nível de generalizações, manteve vivos, ainda que inconscientemente, aqueles arquétipos tradicionais dos quais estamos tratando. Em seu texto “Da Geografia Sagrada à Geopolítica”, cujas teses confluíram sucessivamente no “Paradigma do Fim”, o professor indaga antes de tudo o significado simbólico dos pontos cardeais na contraposição geopolítica “leste-oeste” e sociológica “norte-sul”. Leste e Oeste, na dialética geopolítica do mundo bipolar, constituía claramente o binômio da contraposição mundial da guerra Fria, bem como dois modelos diferentes de abordagem da vida. Se de um lado o Leste representava a “geométrica ordem prussiana” socialista, o Oeste simbolizava ao contrário o modelo hedonista do capitalismo desenfreado. Com a queda da contraposição dos blocos, e a transição pouco estável ao mundo unipolar, essa diferença não tem sido aplacada, de fato, ela foi radicalizada. Se bem que aparentemente também o Leste do mundo tem sido influenciado pelos dogmas modernos do progresso e do crescimento econômico exponencial, não podemos deixar de notar como nele estão ressurgindo (acima de tudo graças à parcial independência geopolítica de que pode desfrutar) os modelos culturais fundamentais para uma restauração integral. A oposição Leste-Oeste, no pensamento duginiano, se revela como a manifestação da contraposição do Oriente e do Ocidente metafísicos, ou melhor, simbólicos: a eterna ambivalência do apolíneo nascer do Sol e de sua descida nas Águas ocidentais. Os termos do desafio entre os dois pólos se tornam a Ascensão e a Queda, o Nascimento e a Morte, Criação e Dissolução. Em vários textos o professor se ocupou também do significado simbólico do centro geográfico que animam este desafio titânico dos continentes. Em dois de seus trabalhos, publicados na Itália no volume “Continente Rússia”, editado em 1991, ele diz limpidamente como, em uma perspectiva sacral e simbólica, a Sibéria – centro do Continente – coincide em realidade com a Hiperbórea, e a América do Norte se corresponde ao invés com a mitológica Ilha dos Mortos, a “terra verde”, da mitologia egípcia, a segunda Atlântida, o local das práticas obscenas de cultos orgiásticos. A segunda contraposição polar se identifica ao invés com Norte e Sul que, em uma concepção profana de sublevação, representam a parte rica e a pobre do globo, Primeiro e Terceiro Mundo. Nós todos conhecemos o simbolismo que na vasta literatura tradicional permeia os Pólos, especialmente o Norte. O Norte, ponto superior do Eixo do Mundo, nada mais é que o ápice solar. O Norte representa a superabundância de riqueza espiritual, o estágio último da Ascese. O Sul (de um ponto de vista simbólico e não meramente geográfico representa o contrário. A mentalidade profana, que em tudo opera a derrubada satânica dos significados, imanentizando esta contraposição em um sentido puramente geográfico, a preencheu com o significado de riqueza e pobreza materiais. Na concepção tradicional o nórdico é aquele que retorna ao gelo, aquele que perde o elemento passional e egoístico “demasiado humano” e que transcende a dimensão humana pela heroica. Já o racismo branco anglo-saxão ou pan-germanista, levado ao ápice político pelo Império Britânico em sua escana colonial global, e pelo hitlerismo ideológico ao nível europeu, demonstrava os elementos fundamentais dessa inversão demoníaca, ainda que preservando, no segundo caso, alguns elementos simbólicos da Tradição. O próprio Barão Evola escreveu muito sobre a necessidade de formar e criar uma raça do espírito, uma elite de aristocratas do espírito. O neopaganismo hitlerista, ao qual o orientalista, historiador das religiões e ex-tenente da SS italiana Pio Filippani Ronconi deu a alcunha de “contra-iniciático”, transpôs tudo a um plano biológico, invertendo o problema.

 

Em nossa opinião, também a cessão do Alasca polar por parte da Rússia aos Estados Unidos, no século XIX, representa um passo em direção à queda do Oriente do Norte espiritual. Não se há de duvidar do fato de que, se o Alasca tivesse permanecido nas mãos do Império Russo, o movimento bolchevique, fortificado no Gelo Eterno, teria empurrados suas hordas aos próprios portões da Pátria do Capitalismo. A sorte histórica seguramente teria sido diversa. No entanto, “os caminhos do Senhor são infinitos”, e Ele opera de maneiras misteriosas.

A ideologia eurasiática revivida pelo professor Dugin, e adaptada ao contexto pós-soviético, representa um destes modelos culturais alternativos, radicalmente verdadeiros, com os quais combater arduamente a Decadência iminente, para ataca-la em seu coração, nas suas contradições mais profundas, e superá-la gloriosamente. Não há dúvida de que as ações do antimoderno atingirão o seu objetivo porque, como dito pelo Para Urbano II durante o Concílio de Clermont: “Deus vult!” – Deus o quer. A Eurásia-Rússia, perfeito centro do Continente, da Heartland, representa hoje um farol de esperança para o Oriente e para o Sul do Mundo, para os europeus orgulhosos de suas próprias tradições e não alinhados ao unipolarismo estadounidense, não só geopolítico, mas também cultural, e para todos os Povos livres que sofreram o martírio por parte dos emissários da Decadência. Penso, neste momento, no heroico povo sírio, uma cidadela de Luz, onde os filhos de Deus xiitas, católicos e ortodoxos estão lutando tenazmente contra as hordas inimigas. A Eurásia, núcleo de reconciliação dos polos, porta do templo de Jano, que se abre para gerar a Unidade do real, se mostra como o Eixo do Mundo global, o templo geográfico, o ponto de partida para o landname total, a sacralização completa do Mundo, a Era do Espírito de Joaquim de Fiore, o Reino do Ar de Carl Schmitt, a terceira concepção espacial.

AMEN.

Tradução por Raphael Machado e Álvaro Hauschild

Compassion n’est pas raison

Compassion n’est pas raison

par Pierre LE VIGAN

La compassion se porte bien. Mais qu’est-ce que la compassion ? C’est un ressenti. C’est un partage de sentiments voire une communion. C’est un « éprouvé avec », plus encore que le « souffrir avec » qu’indique l’étymologie. C’est quelque chose comme la sympathie dans la Théorie des sentiments moraux (1759) d’Adam Smith, qui fonde selon lui notre conduite morale.  La compassion est un thème de société depuis qu’elle est devenue un affect obligatoire, à l’opposé du « soyez dur » de Zarathoustra. Myriam Revault d’Allonnes souligne le « déferlement compassionnel auquel notre société est aujourd’hui en proie ». Pourquoi notre société est-elle si compassionnelle ? Ce n’est pas un hasard. C’est même un symptôme.

Une compassion qui s’étend à tout et à tous

La compassion vaut identification. En ce sens, elle est le produit d’une vision égalitaire des hommes. Dans les sociétés aristocratiques, la compassion n‘a de sens que pour ceux de sa caste et à l’intérieur de celle-ci. À l’inverse, dans les sociétés démocratiques le premier venu (ou le dernier venu si on se réfère aux flux migratoires) devient le semblable de tout le monde. Tocqueville, dans La démocratie en Amérique (1835), remarque que nos sociétés, qu’il qualifie de démocratiques, au sens où elles sont caractérisées par un égalitarisme de principe et non de situation sociale, sont unifiées autour d’un affect commun : la compassion. Il remarque que notre sensibilité se porte sur plus d’objets que ce n’était le cas pour nos pères (c’est-à-dire pour les hommes des sociétés aristocratiques). C’est que notre compassion s’étend désormais à tous les hommes, et non plus seulement à ceux de notre rang. La compassion s’est élargie.

La notion de compassion comme affect commun trouve son origine chez Rousseau même s’il emploie essentiellement les termes de pitié et de commisération. La pitié est pour l’auteur des Confessions le socle de la reconnaissance du semblable. La compassion / pitié est la conséquence de la reconnaissance de la subjectivité humaine. Elle repose tout autant sur l’amour des autres que sur l’amour de soi. La philia, l’amitié est fondée dans la philautia, l’amour de soi, ce qu’Aristote appelait l’« égoïsme vertueux ». S’aimer soi même est la condition pour aimer les autres selon Rousseau. La compassion appartient ainsi à ce que Rousseau croit être la nature de l’homme. La compassion serait même une vertu naturelle voire la mère de toutes les vertus. C’est la naissance d’une conception « moderne » des liens entre les hommes.

La compassion universelle s’accompagne de l’essor de la grande muflerie moderne

Nous vivons toujours sur cette conception comme quoi la compassion, dont la déclinaison forte est la pitié, est le mode moderne, et donc normal dans nos sociétés, du partage du sensible, de ce que l’on sent et ressent.

Cette conception pose plusieurs questions. Tout d’abord, l’extension du champ de la compassion lui fait perdre en intensité. Si on est sensible à tous les malheurs du monde on n’est pas sensible à l’un plus qu’à l’autre. La compassion universelle est par ailleurs inévitablement abstraite. Elle devient sans visage. Ou bien les visages ne sont que ceux des écrans de télévision. Force est aussi de constater que l’extension de la compassion va avec un déclin de la politesse de proximité ou encore de la civilité. De ce qu’Orwell appelait la décence ordinaire. C’est ainsi que se répand en même temps qu’une compassion universelle abstraite et obligatoire une « panbéotie » ou grande muflerie concrète, celle dont parlait Charles Péguy. Ce n’est pas le moindre paradoxe. « Le progrès de la compassion va de pair avec la régression de la civilité », note Alain Finkielkraut. Un risque qu’avait mesuré Rousseau qui écrivait : « Défiez vous de ces cosmopolitiques qui vont chercher loin dans leurs livres des devoirs qu’ils dédaignent de remplir autour d’eux (Émile ou l’éducation, 1762) ».

Compassion, tyrannie de la transparence et dictature de l’urgence

La compassion rencontre d’autres apories. Elle amène à voir les similitudes plus que les différences. A voir ce qui ressemble plus que ce qui distingue. La compassion minore ainsi les distinctions. Elle implique que nous sommes tous égaux au sens où nous serions tous semblables. Elle participe ainsi à la grande érosion moderne des diversités. La compassion implique en outre que ses objets se prêtent au jeu c’est-à-dire acceptent de se montrer en leur malheur. La compassion va avec l’exigence ou même la tyrannie de la transparence, comme nombre d’affaires judiciaires contemporaines en témoignent. La compassion va ainsi avec un effacement de la pudeur et encore de la honte. La compassion suppose en partie de sortir du registre de l’honneur et de la honte pour entrer dans celui de l’exposition voire de l’exhibition, ce qu’avait bien vu Nietzsche.

L’impatience de la pitié

En outre, la compassion, par exemple dans le cas des drames humanitaires,  tels les guerres et les famines, amène à une dictature de l’urgence. Il faut « réagir tout de suite », ne pas « tergiverser ». C’est l’impatience de la pitié. Au risque de faire n’importe quoi, voire plus de mal que de bien. Au risque d’attiser par exemple une guerre tribale, comme en Libye, au lieu de favoriser des négociations.

Il y a un extrémisme de la compassion. Il peut être terroriste. Il peut y avoir une fureur de la pitié, qui amène à déchaîner la haine contre de présumés coupables. « Les malheureux » disait Robespierre à propos du peuple souffrant. On peut penser de même qu’Hitler avait une grande compassion pour la situation difficile du peuple allemand après sa défaite de 1918. Compassion qui peut se retourner en fureur contre les prétendus responsables des malheurs du peuple.

Le problème qui se pose à nous maintenant est toutefois autre que celui des révolutionnaires de droite ou de gauche. La compassion est devenue universelle comme nous l’avons vu. Tient-elle lieu alors de politique ? Doit-on s’en satisfaire ? Pour Rousseau la compassion suppose de ne pas se prendre pour celui qui souffre. La pitié n’est pas pour Rousseau un sentiment fusionnel, elle suppose la distance de la réflexion. Il ne s’agit pas de s’identifier à l’autre mais de comprendre au contraire la différence de l’autre. Rousseau écrit : « La pitié est douce, parce qu’en se mettant à la place de celui qui souffre, on sent pourtant le plaisir de ne pas souffrir comme lui (Émile) ». La compassion ne peut donc être directement politique. Elle ne peut l’être qu’à travers des médiations. Celles-ci sont de plusieurs ordres. Il s’agit bien sûr de comprendre. Sortant de la compassion immédiate, il s’agit d’analyser ce qui se passe et pourquoi. Un exemple ? Il y a une famine en Somalie. Pourquoi le pays a-t-il éclaté en trois régions ? Le Somaliland, le Puntland, et la région de Mogadiscio ? Pourquoi la situation au Somaliland est-elle beaucoup moins dramatique ? Que faire et comment ? A-t-on une simple stratégie de communication ou une stratégie politique à long terme ?

Il s’agit aussi de savoir si toutes les compassions doivent être mises sur le même plan. Ou si « les nôtres » – et selon quel critère les juge-t-on ainsi – doivent passer avant « les autres ». Non en fonction d’une valeur plus grande « en soi » mais au nom du simple principe – par définition relatif – de la primauté de la proximité.  C’était peu ou prou la vision d’Aristote. Il parlait de « sphères d’appartenances » plus ou moins rapprochées et expliquait que la compassion commence au-delà des gens très proches de nous (car ce qui les atteindrait nous ferait peur et mal et ne provoquerait pas une simple compassion) mais ne va pas jusqu’aux gens très éloignés (pour qui prédominerait l’indifférence). La compassion est pour Aristote un « entre deux », c’est une marge.

La compassion universelle a un lien avec le politique. Elle est fondée sur l’abstraction d’un lien entre supposés semblables. Mais le lien politique est à la fois abstrait et situé. S’il va par définition au-delà du charnel (qui n’est pas politique), il n’est pas non plus universel. Il s’inscrit dans un cadre national, ou impérial, mais non pas universalisable. C’est pourquoi l’abstraction du lien compassionnel ne peut être une politique. Rousseau dit que la pitié doit conduire à la justice. Mais celle-ci ne résulte pas d’un simple ressenti. Bien entendu, celui-ci y participe. La richesse insolente de certains provoque l’indignation quand d’autres meurent de faim. Et il y a une dimension politique dans cette indignation. Mais le ressenti ne fonde jamais une justice et chacun sait au demeurant que vouloir appauvrir les riches n’a généralement pas suffi à faire mieux vivre les pauvres. La pitié non plus que la compassion ne fonde une politique et même la justice, si elle est nécessaire, n’y suffit pas. « Il y a des affects politiques fondamentaux comme la colère, comme l’indignation qui sont comme un substrat, un préalable à l’action », écrit Merleau-Ponty dans la préface de Signes. Nous sommes bien d’accord. Mais un levier, mais l’indignation-levier ne suffit pas, il faut à la politique un projet, une analyse des rapports de force, une vision, et sans doute même une poétique. La compassion dispense de la raison, et conforte les stratégies des grandes puissances et les pouvoirs de l’oligarchie.

Le principal danger qui menace de transformer la compassion universalisée en nuisance est la réduction de l’autre au même. Paul Audi note : « La pire violence que l’on puisse faire à l’autre, c’est de ne pas altériser le semblable. […] Tant que l’on altérise pas le semblable, on est dans une logique d’appropriation de la réalité de l’autre, ce qui est la pire violence que l’on puisse lui faire ». Voir l’autre comme le même, c’est décidément le mal contemporain qui, de la colonisation hier à l’immigration aujourd’hui constitue la menace principale contre l’identité des peuples.

Pierre Le Vigan

• Myriam Revault d’Allonnes, L’Homme compassionnel, Le Seuil, 2008, 103 p., 10 €.

• Paul Audi, L’empire de la compassion, Encre marine, 2011, 152 p., 19 €.

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

URL to article: http://www.europemaxima.com/?p=2191

 

La fiducia riparte da noi

Claudio RISE:

La fiducia riparte da noi

Ex: http://claudiorise.wordpress.com/

Claudio Risé, da “Il Mattino di Napoli” del lunedì, 1 ottobre 2012, www.ilmattino.it

La patologia più diffusa oggi? La sfiducia. E non è solo il frutto degli ultimi scandali, o della crisi. E’ qualcosa di sotterraneo, che si sta sviluppando lentamente, da anni, non solo in Italia. Sfiducia verso le autorità, lo Stato, i superiori. Ma anche verso i genitori, i figli. E, soprattutto, se stessi.

La corruzione è legata, nel profondo, anche a questo. Facciamo molta fatica a pensarci onesti. Sarà ben difficile diventarlo finché vediamo in questo modo noi stessi e gli altri.

Questa sfiducia porta con sé il pessimismo: se non mi fido di nessuno, la vita diventa più difficile. Ed alimenta la paura, lo stato emotivo in cui crescono ansia, e instabilità.

All’origine di siffatto scenario, che rende difficile superare le crisi e risanare persone e nazioni c’è un sentimento preciso: la sfiducia.

Sul perché sia diffuso oggi, le versioni sono molteplici. Una buona parte della psicoanalisi, soprattutto dagli anni 30 del Novecento in poi, ha messo sotto osservazione il rapporto del bimbo con la madre, dato che lì si sviluppa la fiducia (o sfiducia) verso gli altri, e il mondo. I cambiamenti nella famiglia, l’aspirazione femminile al lavoro, il trasferimento dalle campagne alle città, e molto altro, avrebbero reso meno accoglienti e più insicure le madri, e istillato questa fondamentale sfiducia nei figli.
Molti sogni di caduta, anche ripetuti da grandi, sarebbero legati alla fantasia (spesso riconosciuta da madri e padri) di lasciar cadere il figlioletto che hanno in braccio, inconsciamente percepita dai figli come pericolo.

Naturalmente, ciò non basta a spiegare la crescita della sfiducia, e delle diverse paure che questo non fidarsi alimenta.

Anche il crescente moltiplicarsi di contratti, di obblighi e diritti giuridicamente tutelati verso gli altri, paradossalmente aumenta l’insicurezza e la sfiducia. I genitori adempiranno gli standard correnti, illustrati dai media, o devo farli “richiamare” ai loro doveri da assistenti sociali, psicologi, magistrati, giornalisti?

Queste nuove possibilità, che sono in effetti anche protezioni, rendono però fragile fin dall’infanzia un rapporto di fiducia di cui lo sviluppo della personalità ha d’altra parte assoluta necessità.
Lo stesso accade per le innumerevoli altre tutele: sindacali, sanitarie, professionali, amministrative, affettive.

L’altro sarà davvero “in ordine”? O ci saranno in giro batteri, irregolarità, secondi fini?
Queste domande ci spingono ad uno stato psicologico molto vicino al disturbo paranoico, che nelle società di massa diventa sospetto generalizzato e infezione psichica collettiva. Tanto più pericolosa quanto più queste società apparentemente permissive e tolleranti non sviluppano nei propri membri senso critico e autocensure, ma autorizzano a trasferire sugli altri timori e inadeguatezze che percepiamo presenti già in noi stessi.

La mancanza di fiducia si rivela così essere la buccia di banana su cui sta pericolosamente scivolando la nostra società ex opulenta (come racconta tra gli altri la filosofa Michela Marzano che ha dedicato al tema il suo ultimo saggio: Avere fiducia).

Inutile, anzi controproducente, si rivela l’icona pubblicitaria della “trasparenza”. L’uomo, in quanto dotato di spessore e contenuti, non può essere trasparente. Deve, anzi, imparare a riconoscerli e difenderli dalle invasioni massmediatiche. Quando poi necessario ed utile a sé e agli altri, deve però impegnarsi nel cambiamento, senza aspettare di esservi richiamato dall’Autorità. Potrà così sviluppare una più tranquilla fiducia in se stesso. Base indispensabile per aver fiducia negli altri.

MERIDIEN ZERO RENCONTRE ERIC WERNER

 

EMISSION n°113 :

MERIDIEN ZERO RENCONTRE ERIC WERNER

Ce dimanche, Méridien Zéro reçoit Eric Werner politologue et essayiste Suisse pour évoquer avec lui ses analyse critique de la société libérale contemporaine.

A la barre Jean-Louis Roumégace et le sieur Wilsdorf. Lord Tesla à la technique

DIMANCHE SOIR, ZAPPEZ LES CHAINES DE TÉLÉ AUX ORDRES, ÉCOUTEZ MÉRIDIEN ZÉRO !

Rendez vous ce dimanche à 23 h sur :

 

http://meridienzero.hautetfort.com/
http://www.radiobandieranera.org/
http://europaradio.hautetfort.com/

 

Signalons ici la dernière action du MAS à faire circuler à tous vos contacts sans modération
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=iXpKXBMQ-sA

Nous serons présents à la Table Ronde de Terre et Peuple ce dimanche à Rungis également

Avec Méridien Zéro, tous à l’abordage et pas de quartier !

 

Faites vous les relais de la voie dissidente, rebelle, autonome, sociale, nationale et radicale en diffusant ce message à vos proches.

 

Encore merci à nos généreux donateurs.

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LOUIS DUMONT: HOLISMO HIERÁRQUICO

ELEMENTOS Nº 33.

LOUIS DUMONT: HOLISMO HIERÁRQUICO

 

Enlace Revista electrónica

Enlace Revista formato pdf

SUMARIO.-

Louis Dumont: estructuralismo, jerarquía e individualismo, 

por Robert Parkin

La influencia de Louis Dumont: Evolución teórica de Alain de Benoist,

por Diego L. Sanromán

Gloria o maldición del individualismo moderno según Louis Dumont, 

por Verena Stolcke

La historia entre antropólogos: Dumont y Salhins, por Gladis Lizama Silva

Las formas del holismo: Mauss y Dumont,

por Ángel Díaz de Rada

La racionalidad de la cultura occidental: Weber y Dumont, 

por Aparecido Francisco dos Reis

Individualismo y modernidad, 

por Julio Mejía Navarrete

Los errores y confusiones de Louis Dumont. A propósito de “la autonomía” o "emancipación” de la Economía, 

por Francisco Vergara

Individuo y sociedad: un estudio sobre la perspectiva jerárquica de Louis Dumont,

por Clara Virginia de Queiroz Pinheiro

Individualismo y colectividad a partir del concepto tiempo,

por Patricia Safa

El Homo Hierarchicus de Louis Dumont,

por Carmen Arias Abellán

La ideología del sistema de castas en Louis Dumont,

por Ishita Banerjee

 

À quoi bon aller en Inde?, 

por Rogelio Rubio

 

 

Publicado por [e-mail]

DISENSO Nº9

DISENSO Nº9:

La realidad es, más lo que puede ser y meditación y filosofía occidental

 

The Sexual Aesthetics and Metaphysics of Julius Evola

 

Keith Preston:

Beyond Prudery and Perversion: The Sexual Aesthetics and Metaphysics of Julius Evola

Ex: http://attackthesystem.com/

 

              Of the various manifestations of the egalitarian cultural revolution that has transpired in the Western world over the past half century, none have been quite so enduring or become so deeply rooted in the culture of modern society as the so-called “sexual revolution.” Indeed, it might well be argued that even the supposed commitment of Western cultural elites in the early twenty-first century to the ethos of racial egalitarianism is not quite as profound as their commitment to the preservation and expansion of the victories of the sexual revolution. The sexual revolution itself brings with it many of its own manifestations. These include the now prevailing feminist ethos, the liberalization of both popular opinion and public legislation concerning sexual conduct, abortion and contraception, divorce, the normalization of homosexuality accompanied by the growth of powerful homosexual political interest groups, and the identification of an ever-growing list of “gender identity” or “sexual orientation” groups who are subsequently assigned their position in the Left’s pantheon of the oppressed.

Of course, the ongoing institutionalization of the values of the sexual revolution is not without its fierce critics. Predictably, the most strident criticism of sexual liberalism originates from the clerical and political representatives of the institutions of organized Christianity and from concerned Christian laypeople. Public battles over sexual issues are depicted in the establishment media as conflicts between progressive-minded, intelligent and educated liberals versus ignorant, bigoted, sex-phobic reactionaries. Dissident conservative media outlets portray conflicts of this type as pitting hedonistic, amoral sexual libertines against beleaguered upholders of the values of faith, family, and chastity. Yet this “culture war” between liberal libertines and Christian puritans is not what should be the greatest concern of those holding a radical traditionalist or conservative revolutionary outlook.

Sexuality and the Pagan Heritage of Western Civilization

The European New Right has emerged as the most intellectually progressive and sophisticated contemporary manifestation of the values of the conservative revolution. Likewise, the overlapping schools of thought associated with the ENR have offered the most penetrating and comprehensive critique of the domination of contemporary cultural and political life by the values of liberalism and the consequences of this for Western civilization. The ENR departs sharply from conventional “conservative” criticisms of liberalism of the kind that stem from Christian piety. Unlike the Christian conservatives, the European New Right does not hesitate to embrace the primordial pagan heritage of the Indo-European ancestors of Western peoples. The history of the West is much older than the fifteen hundred year reign of the Christian church that characterized Western civilization from the late Roman era to the early modern period. This history includes foremost of all the classical Greco-Roman civilization of antiquity and its legacy of classical pagan scholarship and cultural life. Recognition of this legacy includes a willingness to recognize and explore classical pagan attitudes towards sexuality. As Mark Wegierski has written:

The ENR’s “paganism” entails a naturalism towards mores and sexuality. Unlike still traditionalists, ENR members have a relatively liberated attitude towards sexuality…ENR members have no desire to impose what they consider the patently unnatural moralism of Judeo-Christianity on sexual relations. However, while relatively more tolerant in principle, they still value strong family life, fecundity, and marriage or relations within one’s own ethnic group. (Their objection to intraethnic liaisons would be that the mixture of ethnic groups diminishes a sense of identity. In a world where every marriage was mixed, cultural identity would disappear). They also criticize Anglo-American moralism and its apparent hypocrisy: ” . . . In this, they are closer to a worldly Europe than to a puritanical America obsessed with violence. According to the ENR: “Our ancestral Indo-European culture . . . seems to have enjoyed a healthy natural attitude to processes and parts of the body concerned with the bringing forth of new life, the celebration of pair-bonding love, and the perpetuation of the race.”

In its desire to create a balanced psychology of sexual relations, the ENR seeks to overcome the liabilities of conventional conservative thought: the perception of conservatives as joyless prudes, and the seemingly ridiculous psychology implied in conventional Christianity. It seeks to address “flesh-and-blood men and women,” not saints. Since some of the Left’s greatest gains in the last few decades have been made as a result of their championing sexual freedom and liberation, the ENR seeks to offer its own counter-ethic of sexual joy. The hope is presumably to nourish persons of the type who can, in Nietzsche’s phrase, “make love alter reading Hegel.” This is also related to the desire for the reconciliation of the intellectual and warrior in one person: the reconciliation of vita contemplative and vita activa.¹

It is therefore the task of contemporary proponents of the values of conservative revolution to create a body of sexual ethics that offers a genuine third position beyond that of mindless liberal hedonism or the equally mindless sex-phobia of the Christian puritans. In working to cultivate such an alternative sexual ethos, the thought of Julius Evola regarding sexuality will be quite informative.

The Evolan Worldview

Julius Evola published his Eros and the Mysteries of Love: The Metaphysics of Sex in 1958.²This work contains a comprehensive discussion of Evola’s views of sexuality and the role of sexuality in his wider philosophical outlook. In the book, Evola provides a much greater overview of his own philosophy of sex, a philosophy which he had only alluded to in prior works such as The Yoga of Power (1949)³ and, of course, his magnum opus Revolt Against the Modern World (1934)⁴. Evola’s view of sexuality was very much in keeping with his wider view of history and civilization. Evola’s philosophy, which he termed merely as “Tradition,” was essentially a religion of Evola’s own making. Evola’s Tradition was a syncretic amalgam of various occult and metaphysical influences derived from ancient myths and esoteric writings. Foremost among these were the collection of myths found in various Greek and Hindu traditions having to do with a view of human civilization and culture as manifestation of a process of decline from a primordial “Golden Age.”

It is interesting to note that Evola rejected modern views of evolutionary biology such as Darwinian natural selection. Indeed, his views on the origins of mankind overlapped with those of Vedic creationists within the Hindu tradition. This particular reflection of the Vedic tradition postulates the concept of “devolution” which, at the risk of oversimplification, might be characterized as a spiritualistic inversion of modern notions of evolution. Mankind is regarded as having devolved into its present physical form from primordial spiritual beings, a view that is still maintained by some Hindu creationists in the contemporary world.⁵ Comparable beliefs were widespread in ancient mythology. Hindu tradition postulates four “yugas” with each successive yuga marking a period of degeneration from the era of the previous yuga. The last of these, the so-called “Kali Yuga,” represents an Age of Darkness that Evola appropriated as a metaphor for the modern world. This element of Hindu tradition parallels the mythical Golden Age of the Greeks, where the goddess of justice, Astraea, the daughter of Zeus and Themis, lived among mankind in an idyllic era of human virtue. The similarities of these myths to the legend of the Garden of Eden in the Abrahamic traditions where human beings lived in paradise prior the Fall are also obvious enough.

It would be easy enough for the twenty-first century mind to dismiss Evola’s thought in this regard as a mere pretentious appeal to irrationality, mysticism, superstition or obscurantism. Yet to do so would be to ignore the way in which Evola’s worldview represents a near-perfect spiritual metaphor for the essence of the thought of the man who was arguably the most radical and far-sighted thinker of modernity: Friedrich Nietzsche. Indeed, it is not implausible to interpret Evola’s work as an effort to place the Nietzschean worldview within a wider cultural-historical and metaphysical framework that seeks to provide a kind of reconciliation with the essential features of the world’s great religious traditions which have their roots in the early beginnings of human consciousness. Nietzsche, himself a radical materialist, likewise regarded the history of Western civilization as involving a process of degeneration from the high point of the pre-Socratic era. Both Nietzsche and Evola regarded modernity as the lowest yet achieved form of degenerative decadence with regards to expressions of human culture and civilization. The Nietzschean hope for the emergence of anubermenschen that has overcome the crisis of nihilism inspired by modern civilization and the Evolan hope for a revival of primordial Tradition as an antidote to the perceived darkness of the current age each represent quite similar impulses within human thought.

The Metaphysics of Sex

In keeping with his contemptuous view of modernity, Evola regarded modern sexual mores and forms of expression as degenerate. Just as Evola rejected modern evolutionary biology, so did he also oppose twentieth century approaches to the understanding of sexuality of the kind found in such fields as sociobiology, psychology, and the newly emergent discipline of sexology. Interestingly, Evola did not view the reproductive instinct in mankind to be the principal force driving sexuality and he criticized these academic disciplines for their efforts to interpret sexuality in terms of reproductive drives, regarding these efforts as a reflection of the materialistic reductionism which he so bitterly opposed. Evola’s use of the term “metaphysics” with regards to sexuality represents in part his efforts to differentiate what he considered to be the “first principles” of human sexuality from the merely biological instinct for the reproduction of the species, which he regarded as being among the basest and least meaningful aspects of sex. It is also interesting to note at this point that Evola himself never married or had children of his own. Nor is it known to what degree his own paralysis generated by injuries sustained during World War Two as a result of a 1945 Soviet bombing raid on Vienna affected his own reproductive capabilities or his views of sexuality.

Perhaps the most significant aspect of Evola’s analysis of sex is his rejection of not only the reproductive instinct but also of love as the most profound dimension of sexuality. Evola’s thought on this matter is sharp departure from the dominant forces in traditional Western thought with regards to sexual ethics. Plato postulated a kind of love that transcends the sexual and rises above it, thereby remaining non-sexual in nature. The Christian tradition subjects the sexual impulse and act to a form of sacralization by which the process of creating life becomes a manifestation of the divine order. Hence, the traditional Christian taboos against non-procreative sexual acts. Modern humanism of a secular-liberal nature elevates romantic love to the highest form of sexual expression. Hence, the otherwise inexplicable phenomena of the modern liberal embrace of non-procreative, non-marital or even homosexual forms of sexual expression, while maintaining something of a taboo against forms of non-romantic sexual expression such as prostitution or forms of sexuality and sexual expression regarded as incompatible with the egalitarian ethos of liberalism, such as polygamy or “sexist” pornography.

Evola’s own thought regarding sexuality diverges sharply from that of the Platonic ideal, the Christians, and the moderns alike. For Evola, sexuality has as its first purpose the achievement of unity in two distinctive ways. The first of these is the unity of the male and female dichotomy that defines the sexual division of the human species. Drawing once again on primordial traditions, Evola turns to the classical Greek myth of Hermaphroditus, the son of Hermes and Aphrodite who was believed to be a manifestation of both genders and who was depicted in the art of antiquity as having a male penis with female breasts in the same manner as the modern “she-male.” The writings of Ovid depict Hermaphroditus as a beautiful young boy who was seduced by the nymph Salmacis and subsequently transformed into a male/female hybrid as a result of the union. The depiction of this story in the work of Theophrastus indicates that Hermaphroditus symbolized the marital union of a man and woman.

The concept of unity figures prominently in the Evolan view of sexuality on another level. Just as the sexual act is an attempt at reunification of the male and female division of the species, so is sexuality also an attempt to reunite the physical element of the human being with the spiritual. Again, Evola departs from the Platonic, Christian, and modern views of sexuality. The classical and the modern overemphasize such characteristics as romantic love or aesthetic beauty in Evola’s view, while the Christian sacralization of sexuality relegates the physical aspect to the level of the profane. However, Evola does not reject the notion of a profane dimension to sexuality. Instead, Evola distinguishes the profane from the transcendent. Profane expressions of sexuality are those of a non-transcendent nature. These can include both the hedonic pursuit of sexual pleasure as an end unto itself, but it also includes sexual acts with romantic love as their end.

Indeed, Evola’s analysis of sexuality would be shockingly offensive to the sensibilities of traditionalists within the Abrahamic cults and those of modern liberal humanists alike. Evola is as forthright as any of the modern left-wing sexologists of his mid-twentieth century era (for instance, Alfred Kinsey⁶ or Wilhelm Reich⁷) in the frankness of his discussion of the many dimensions of human sexuality, including sexual conduct of the most fringe nature. Some on the contemporary “far Right” of nationalist politics have attempted to portray Evola’s view of homosexuality as the equivalent of that of a conventional Christian “homophobe.” Yet a full viewing of Evola’s writing on the homosexual questions does not lend itself to such an interpretation. The following passage fromThe Metaphysics of Sex is instructive on this issue:

In natural homosexuality or in the predisposition to it, the most straightforward explanation is provided by what we said earlier about the differing levels of sexual development and about the fact that the process of sexual development in its physical and, even more so, in its psychic aspects can be incomplete. In that way, the original bisexual nature is surpassed to a lesser extent than in a “normal” human being, the characteristics of one sex not being predominant over those of the other sex to the same extent. Next we must deal with what M. Hirschfeld called the “intermediate sexual forms”. In cases of this kind (for instance, when a person who is nominally a man is only 60 percent male) it is impossible that the erotic attraction based on the polarity of the sexes in heterosexuality – which is much stronger the more the man is male and the woman is female – can also be born between individuals who, according to the birth registry and as regards only the so-called primary sexual characteristics, belong to the same sex, because in actual fact they are “intermediate forms”. In the case of pederasts, Ulrich said rightly that it is possible to find “the soul of a woman born in the body of a man”.

But it is necessary to take into account the possibility of constitutional mutations, a possibility that has been given little consideration by sexologists; that is, we must also bear in mind cases of regression. It may be that the governing power on which the sexual nature of a given individual depends (a nature that is truly male or truly female) may grow weak through neutralization, atrophy, or reduction of the latent state of the characteristics of the other sex, and this may lead to the activation and emergence of these recessive characteristics. And here the surroundings and the general atmosphere of society can play a not unimportant part. In a civilization where equality is the standard, where differences are not linked, where promiscuity is a favor, where the ancient idea of “being true to oneself” means nothing anymore – in such a splintered and materialistic society, it is clear that this phenomenon of regression and homosexuality should be particularly welcome, and therefore it is in no way a surprise to see the alarming increase in homosexuality and the “third sex” in the latest “democratic” period, or an increase in sex changes to an extent unparalleled in other eras.⁸

In his recognition of the possibility of “the soul of a woman born in the body of man” or “intermediate” sexual forms, Evola’s language and analysis somewhat resembles the contemporary cultural Left’s fascination with the “transgendered” or the “intersexed.” Where Evola’s thought is to be most sharply differentiated from that of modern leftists is not on the matter of sex-phobia, but on the question of sexual egalitarianism. Unlike the Christian puritans who regard deviants from the heterosexual, procreative sexual paradigm as criminals against the natural order, Evola apparently understood the existence of such “sexual identities” as a naturally occurring phenomenon. Unlike modern liberals, Evola opposed the elevation of such sexual identities or practices to the level of equivalence with “normal” procreative and kinship related forms of sexual expression and relationship. On the contemporary question of same-sex marriage, for example, Evolan thought recognizes that the purpose of marriage is not individual gratification, but the construction of an institution for the reproduction of the species and the proliferation and rearing of offspring. An implication of Evola’s thought on these questions for conservative revolutionaries in the twenty-first century is that the populations conventionally labeled as sexual deviants by societies where the Abrahamic cults shape the wider cultural paradigm need not be shunned, despised, feared, or subject to persecution. Homosexuals, for instance, have clearly made important contributions to Western civilization. However, the liberal project of elevating either romantic love or hedonic gratification as the highest end of sexuality, and of equalizing “normal” and “deviant” forms of sexual expression, must likewise be rejected if relationships between family, tribe, community, and nation are to be understood as the essence of civilization.

The nature of Evola’s opposition to modern pornography and the relationship of this opposition to his wider thought regarding sexuality is perhaps the most instructive with regards to the differentiation to be made between Evola’s outlook and that of Christian moralists. Evola’s opposition to pornography was not its explicit nature or its deviation from procreative, marital expressions of sexuality as the idealized norm. Indeed, Evola highly regarded sexual practices of a ritualized nature, including orgiastic religious rites of the kind found in certain forms of paganism, to be among the most idyllic forms of sexual expression of the highest, spiritualized variety. Christian puritans of the present era might well find Evola’s views on these matters to be even more appalling than those of ordinary contemporary liberals. Evola also considered ritualistic or ascetic celibacy to be such an idyllic form. The basis of Evola’s objection to pornography was its baseness, it commercial nature, and its hedonic ends, all of which Evola regarding as diminishing its erotic nature to the lowest possible level. Evola would no doubt regard the commercialized hyper-sexuality that dominates the mass media and popular culture of the Western world of the twenty-first century as a symptom rather than as a cause of the decadence of modernity.

Originally published in Thoughts & Perspectives: Evola, a compilation of essays on Julius Evola, published by ARKTOS.

Notes:

¹ Wegierski, Mark. The New Right in Europe. Telos, Winter93/Spring94, Issue 98-99.

² Evola, Julius. Eros and the Mysteries of Love: The Metaphysics of Sex. English translation. New York: Inner Traditions, 1983. Originally published in Italy by Edizioni Meditterranee, 1969.

³ Evola, Julius. The Yoga of Power: Tantra, Shakti, and the Secret Way. English translation by Guido Stucci. New York: Inner Traditions, 1992. Originally published in 1949.

⁴ Evola, Julius. Revolt Against the Modern World: Politics, Religion, and Social Order in the Kali Yuga. English translation by Guido Stucco. New York: Inner Traditions, 1995. From the 1969 edition. Originally published in Milan by Hoepli in 1934.

⁵ Cremo, Michael A. Human Devolution: A Vedic Alternative to Darwin’s Theory. Torchlight Publishing, 2003.

⁶ Pomeroy, Wardell. Dr. Kinsey and the Institute for Sex Research. New York: Harper & Row, 1972.

⁷ Sharaf, Myron. Fury on Earth: A Biography of Wilhelm Reich. Da Capo Press, 1994.

⁸ Evola, Eros and the Mysteries of Love: The Metaphysics of Sex, pp. 62-63.

Bibliography:

Cremo, Michael A. Human Devolution: A Vedic Alternative to Darwin’s Theory. Torchlight Publishing, 2003.

Evola, Julius. Eros and the Mysteries of Love: The Metaphysics of Sex. English translation. New York: Inner Traditions, 1983. Originally published in Italy by Edizioni Meditterranee, 1969.

Evola, Julius. Revolt Against the Modern World: Politics, Religion, and Social Order in the Kali Yuga. English translation by Guido Stucco. New York: Inner Traditions, 1995. From the 1969 edition. Originally published in Milan by Hoepli in 1934.

Evola, Julius. The Yoga of Power: Tantra, Shakti, and the Secret Way. English translation by Guido Stucci. New York: Inner Traditions, 1992. Originally published in 1949.

Pomeroy, Wardell. Dr. Kinsey and the Institute for Sex Research. New York: Harper & Row, 1972.

Sharaf, Myron. Fury on Earth: A Biography of Wilhelm Reich. Da Capo Press, 1994.

Wegierski, Mark. The New Right in Europe. Telos, Winter93/Spring94, Issue 98-99.

Marc. EEMANS: La Vision de Tondalus

Marc. EEMANS:

La Vision de Tondalus et la littérature visionnaire au moyen âge

 

La vision est un des genres mystico-littéraires des plus goûtés au moyen âge. Innombrables sont, en effet, les textes visionnaires parvenus jusqu'à nous et, sans parler de ces sommets que sont les visions de Sainte Hildegarde et de Hadewych, l'on peut dire que la vision a fleuri dans tous les pays de l'Europe occidentale. La plupart des textes conservés semblent d'abord avoir été écrits en langue latine, pour être traduits par la suite en langue vulgaire et se répandre ainsi dans toutes les couches de la société.

A en juger d'après le grand nombre de visions d'origine irlandaise, l'on peut affirmer que c'est avant tout un genre propre au monde celtique (1) où il se confondrait avec la tradition païenne de l'imram (2) ou voyage maritime à la Terre des Ombres, île lointaine et inaccessible où tout n'est que félicité.

Par la suite, se rencontrant avec d'autres récits de tradition strictement chrétienne, ce voyage se serait confondu avec les « ravissements dans l'esprit », au cours desquels les visionnaires visitent l'au-delà.

L'une des premières visions chrétiennes dont le texte nous soit parvenu est la Vision de Salvius qui nous apporte, d'emblée deux éléments propres au style visionnaire: la mort apparente du visionnaire et l'apparition du guide qui Je conduit sain et sauf à travers les embûches de l'au-delà.

Dans tous les textes visionnaires du quatrième au sixième siècle, le paradis des élus se rapproche encore beaucoup de l’Élisée des Grecs ou du Hel des anciens Germains: c'est une espèce de pays de cocagne ou tout n'est que joie et allégresse, et qui se confond volontiers avec le paradis terrestre dont Adam en Eve furent chassés après la faute.

Dans un des Dialogues du Pape Grégoire le Grand, nous trouvons également la description classique d'une mort apparente accompagnée d'un voyage dans l'autre monde, tandis que des considérations eschatologiques viennent utilement nous renseigner sur notre vie future. Maïs l'originalité de cette vision réside dans le fait que nous y rencontrons pour la première fois le thème du pont étroit qui est une des épreuves les plus redoutables pour les âmes damnées.

Le texte de Grégoire le Grand semble avoir donné un essor définitif au genre et dès le huitième siècle les visions se multiplient, en étant toutes construites sur le même schéma.

L'Historia Ecclesiastica de Beda Venarabilis (3) nous rapporte à elle seule la relation de trois morts apparentes accompagnées de visions à tendances eschatologiques. La plus remarquable d'entre elles est la Vision de Drithelm qui s'apparente de très près à la Vision de Tondalus, aussi la considère ton comme une de ses sources.

Sous le règne de Charles Magne, nombreuses sont les visions qui s 'inspirent des thèmes de Grégoire le Grand, mais sous l'influence de certains facteurs extérieurs, elles perdent petit à petit leur sens religieux pour revêtir un aspect politique. La plus célèbre des visions de ce genre est certainement la Vision d'une Pauvresse. Elle nous conte l'histoire d'une pauvre femme, du district de Laon, tombée en extase en l'année 819, et dont les visions auraient inspiré directement la politique carolovingienne.

Faisant exception dans la série des visions politiques de l'époque, les Visions d'Anscarius (4) sont de la plus pure inspiration eschatologique. Dès sa prime jeunesse, Anscarius connut les visions et les ravissements, aussi vécut-il de la manière la plus sainte, loin des rumeurs du vaste monde. Puis, certain jour, une vision lui ayant montré les beautés de l'apostolat, il alla convertir les hommes du Nord à la foi chrétienne. Les Visions d'Anscarius s'apparentent de fort près à la Vision de Salvius, tout en s'inspirant des principaux thèmes eschatologiques de l'Apocalypse. Jusqu'ici, le style visionnaire était encore tout entaché de matérialité, voire même de vulgarité. Chez Anscarius, au contraire, le récit se spiritualise et l'âme qui s'échappe du corps endormi se pare d'une essence vraiment impondérable, tout comme Je Ciel se colore d'une indicible fluidité. Anscarius reconnaît cependant son incapacité à traduire l'ineffable et il avoue que ses descriptions ne sont que des approximations qui se trouvent bien en-dessous du réel.

Pendant les deux siècles qui suivent, la littérature visionnaire connaît une certaine régression. Hormis la Vision de Vauquelin, qui date de 1091, il n'y a aucun texte marquant à signaler.

Dès le début du 12° siècle, les textes visionnaires se suivent de très près, nous y relèverons surtout des visions d' origine irlandaise dont la Vision d'Adamman semble être la plus ancienne. Tout en relevant d'un certain conventionnel, le genre se traduit en récits d'une très grande beauté de style. Ces visions nous révèlent, en effet, le merveilleux chrétien dans toute sa diversité, depuis la description des plus misérables scènes du monde des damnés, jusqu'à l'épanouissement béatifique des âmes au sein de Dieu. Les thèmes traditionnels se développent et s'amplifient d'un récit à l'autre. Des réminiscences orientales, dues aux Croisades, s'y révèlent, tandis que des rappels des auteurs anciens viennent témoigner des premières influences du monde antique.

Cette littérature visionnaire à tendance eschatologique connaîtra bientôt son apogée dans la Divine Comédie (5) du Dante, tandis que les visions d'inspiration plus mystique aboutiront aux plus sublimes révélations de Sainte Hildegarde et de Hadewych (6). Tant par leur popularité ,que par la beauté de leur style, la Vision de Tondalus et le Purgatoire de St-Patrice occupent une place d'exception dans la littérature eschatologique du moyen âge.

La Vision du Chevalier Ovin relatée dans le Purgatoire de St-Patrice se rattache à l’antique tradition celtique des Imrama, aussi n ' est-ce point en état de léthargie que le Chevalier Ovin s'aventure dans le monde des ténèbres, mais en y pénétrant volontairement par une grotte qui communique avec les entrailles de la terre. Sur le plan chrétien il refera le voyage déjà entrepris avant lui par Orphée, Ulysse et Enée. Tout comme eux il pénètrera de son plein gré dans le monde de l'au-delà, mais son voyage est un véritable pélerinage: c'est, en effet, pour se purifier qu'il veut contempler les peines infligées aux âmes damnées. Il est ainsi porteur de cette foi essentiellement chrétienne et médiévale en la Rédemption de l'homme.

Le Chevalier Ovin n'a point le bonheur d'avoir un guide dans son voyage, mais là ou les dangers seront par trop menaçants, il lui suffira de prononcer le nom de Jésus pour se sentir aussitôt à l'abri. Il ira ainsi de supplice en supplice, en se purifiant chaque fois davantage, pour arriver enfin aux partes du Paradis.

Par les nombreuses recommandations à l'adresse du lecteur qui entrecoupent le récit, cette vision se révèle avant tout comme une œuvre d'édification et une exhortation à la pénitence.

Ce récit, qui se rattache au fameux Pélerinage de St-Patrice, en Irlande, a rencontré un succès sans précédent dans les annales de la littérature médiévale. Ecrit en latin par un moine irlandais du nom d'Henry de Saltrey vers 1189, il fut bientôt traduit dans toutes les langues de l'Europe occidentale. De nombreux auteurs célèbres s'en inspirèrent, notamment Calderon qui en tira son El Purgataria de San Patricio. Jusqu'au milieu du 19° siècle il a servi de trame à un mystère fort populaire dans toute la Bretagne.

Quant à la Vision de Tondalus, due vers le milieu du 12° siècle à la plume du moine Marcus, son succès dura plus de trois siècles. Plus de 60 versions latines, toutes du 12° ou du 13° siècle en ont été conservées jusqu'à nos jours. Sa traduction en langue vulgaire se répandit dans tous les pays de l'Europe occidentale. Vincentius Bellavacensis recopia intégralement cette vision dans son Speculum Ristoriale (vers 1244) , tandis que Denys le Chartreux en donna un résumé fort circonstancié dans deux de ses ouvrages Quatuor Novissima et De Particulari Judicia Dei. C'est grâce à ces deux auteurs, particulièrement populaires à l'époque, que la Vision de Tondalus pénétra dans tous les milieux.

Cette vision nous conte les mésaventures du Chevalier Tondal qui, étant tombé certain jour en état de léthargie, eut le privilège de descendre en Enfer et d'en rapporter le récit que le frère Marcus (7) a trancrit pour l'édification des pécheurs.

Dès le seuil de l'autre monde, Tondal est accueilli par son ange gardien et ensemble ils traverseront l'Enfer pour visiter ensuite le Paradis et y contempler les âmes bienheureuses.

La délimitation de l'au-delà en trois zônes bien définies- Enfer, Purgatoire, Paradis - telle que nous la trouvons dans la Divine Comédie n' est pas encore bien fixée dans le récit du frère Marcus, aussi a-t-on pu soulever une controverse quant à la définition des lieux visités par Tondalus Selon certains, seul le supplice infligé par Lucifer, relèverait des peines de l'Enfer, toutes les autres étant encore celles du Purgatoire.

Quoi qu'il en soit, nous constatons que dans la Vision de Tondalus onze supplices s'étagent jusqu'aux partes du Paradis et que même à l'intérieur de celui-ci, certaines âmes doivent encore souffrir des supplices temporaires, tels les deux rois ennemis Concober et Donacus, qui avaient cependant déjà fait pénitence sur terre, maïs qui ne furent pas « entièrement bons » ... Quant au roi Cornacus, il y doit également expier certains crimes et y subit ainsi chaque jour, durant trois heures, la peine du feu jusqu'au nombril, tandis que la partie supérieure de son corps se recouvre entièrement de poils. Comme on le voit, dans le Paradis de Tondal, la première joie connaît encore ses heures de détresse, mais les cinq joies suivantes, elles, sont toute félicité. Elles sont réservées aux âmes nobles qui vécurent d'une vie exemplaire ici-bas.

Tondal serait volontiers resté en ces lieux, mais son ange gardien lui fait comprendre qu'il n'en est pas encore digne. S'il persévère dans ses bonnes résolutions, il reviendra certainement en ces lieux pour y prendre part aux chœurs des bienheureux. Maïs avant d'en arriver là Tondal devra vivre, pendant le temps qui lui reste à demeurer sur terre, une vie de mortification et de charité. C'est à ce moment que l’âme de Tondal va rejoindre son corps pour s'adonner à l’œuvre de la gräce.

La Vision de Tondalus a laissé des traces profancles dans toute la littérature de moyen âge. Son iconographie est des plus abondantes, car des artistes de la qualité d'un Pol de Limbourg ou d'un Jéröme Bosch y ont trouvé de fécondes sources d'inspiration. Nombreux sont également les incunables qui ont reproduit cette vision. La première édition typographique de ce livre serait celle d'Anvers « gheprent bi mi Mathijs van der goes », portant le millésime 1472.

Les bibliographes sont toutefois unanimes pour affirmer que cette édition a été antidatée par van der goes qui voulait ainsi s'attribuer la gloire d'avoir imprimé le premier livre paru dans les Pays-Bas.

Presque toutes les éditions de la Vision de Tondalus datent du 16° siècle et dès le 17°, cet ouvrage qui avait connu tant de vogue ne reparut plus au catalogue des éditeurs. Au 19° siècle il sortit de l'ombre grâce à la curiosité des philologues romantiques et dès 1837 Octave Delepierre, archiviste de la Flandre Occidentale en présenta une nouvelle version française d'après le texte la tin de Vincentius Bellavacensis, à laquelle nous empruntons les fragments publiés dans le présent cahier.

Dans plusieurs pays d'Europe les philologues se sont depuis lors occupés fort longuement des innombrables manuscrits de l’œuvre. Certains d'entre eux nous ont dotés ainsi de la présentation critique de quelques-uns d’entre-eux, notamment MM. R. Verdeyen et J. Endepols qui publièrent une version moyen-néerlandaise de la Vision de Tondalus et du Purgatoire de St. Patrice. Nous devons la plupart des données historiques réunies dans cette étude aux patientes recherches de ces deux savants.

Une étude détaillée du sujet, que nous venons d'esquisser ici et qui relève autant de l'histoire de la littérature comparée que de l'histoire de la dévotion occidentale au moyen âge, reste encore à écrire.

Marc. EEMANS.

(1) Rappelons cependant que le monde antique tout comme le monde oriental connurent ce genre et bien souvent nos visions médiévales en sont des démarcations plus ou moins conscientes.
(2) Le plus célèbre Imram connu à ce jour est celui du Voyage de Bran ou de Saint Brandan.
(3) Moine et historien anglais, né à Wearmouth (675-735).
(4) Saint Anschaire, évèque de Hambourg (801-865) .
(5) Les constantes allusions du Dante à des personnages politiques contemporains rattachent également la Divine Comédie à la tradition carolovingienne des visions politiques.
(6) Parmi les grandes femmes visionnaires citons également: Elisabeth de Schönau, Marie d'Oignies, Christine de St-Trond, Lutgarde de Tongres, Beatrice de Nazareth, Mechtild de Magdebourg, etc.
(7) L'auteur de la Vision de Tondalus, probablement un moine Irlandais du XIIe siècle, n'est connu que sous ce prénom. C'est ainsi qu'il se présente lui-même au debut de son récit.

Hermès, n° 3, mars 1937.

Derechos humanos como disvalor

 

Derechos humanos como disvalor

 

Alberto Buela (*)

 

Como hace muchos años que venimos escribiendo sobre el tema de los derechos humanos y lo hemos encarado desde distintos ángulos: a) derechos humanos de primera, segunda y tercera generación, b) derechos humanos e ideología, c) derechos humanos o derechos de los pueblos, d) derechos humanos: crisis o decadencia.

En esta ocasión vamos a meditar sobre los derechos humanos como un disvalor o, si se quiere para que sea más comprensible, como una falsa preferencia.

 

Es sabido que la Declaración Universal de los Derechos Humanos proclamada por las  Naciones Unidas a finales de 1948, afirma en su artículo 3 que: Todo individuo tiene derecho a la vida, a la libertad y a la seguridad de su persona.

Con lo cual los legisladores correctamente nos vinieron a decir que los derechos humanos proclamados alcanzan al hombre en tanto que individuo, esto es, formando parte de un género y una especie: animal rationale o zoon lógon éjon, como gustaban decir griegos y romanos.

Pero, al mismo tiempo, nos dicen que estos derechos son inherentes al hombre como persona, esto es, en tanto ser único, singular e irrepetible. Y acá está implícita toda la concepción cristiana del hombre.[1]

Si bien, este magistral artículo 3, merecedor de una exégesis abundantísima, se apoya, tiene su basamento en una concepción sesgada o parcial del hombre: como sujeto de derechos. Y es acá donde comenzamos a barruntar lo que queremos decir.

El hombre durante toda la antigüedad clásica: greco, romano, cristiana nunca fue pensado como sujeto de derechos, y no porque no existieran dichos derechos, sino porque la justicia desde Platón para acá fue pensada como: dar a cada uno lo que corresponde. Con lo cual el derecho está concebido desde el que está “obligado” a cumplirlo y no desde los “acreedores” del derecho. Es por ello que la justicia fue concebida como una restitutio, como lo debido al otro.

Esto es de crucial importancia, pues sino se lo entiende acabadamente, no puede comprenderse la Revolución Copernicana, que produjeron los legisladores onunianos en 1948.

Al ser lo justo, dar a cada uno aquello que le corresponde y no el obtenerlo para uno, la obligación de realizarlo es del deudor. Y ello está determinado por el realismo filosófico, jurídico, político y teológico de la mencionada antigüedad clásica. Así el peso de realización de lo justo recae sobre aquel que puede y debe realizarlo, el acreedor de derechos solo puede demandarlo.

Al respecto relata Platón cómo respondió Sócrates cuando le proponen fugarse de la cárcel al ser condenado a muerte: Nunca es bueno y noble cometer injusticia (Critón, 49ª5) En cualquier caso es malo y vergonzoso cometer injusticia (Critón, 49b6). Nunca es correcto retribuir una injusticia por una injusticia padecida, ni mal por mal (Critón 49 d7), pues es peor hacer una injusticia que padecerla.

Así, Sócrates no ignora que tiene “derecho humano a conservar su vida”, pero prima en él, el “derecho humano de los atenienses”, de los otros. Pues si se fuga realiza un acto de injusticia, peor aún que la recibida.

 

Hoy la teoría de los derechos humanos invirtió la ecuación y así viene a sostener la primacía del acreedor de derechos por sobre la obligación de ser justos.

 

Viene entonces la pregunta fundamental: ¿A qué debe el hombre otorgar primacía en el ámbito del obrar: a ser justo o a ser acreedor de derechos?

 

Sin lugar a dudas todo hombre de bien intenta ser justo en su obrar, sin por ello renunciar a sus derechos pero, si el acto justo implica posponer algún derecho, es seguro que el justo lo pospone.

Ello nos está indicando la primacía y la preferencia axiológica de lo justo sobre el derecho.

Si invertimos esta relación los derechos humanos terminan siendo concebidos como un disvalor.

De modo tal que, obviamente, no estamos en contra del rescate que los derechos humanos han realizado en cantidad de campos y dominios. Estamos en contra que la vida del hombre se piense limitada y girando exclusivamente sobre los derechos humanos.

Y así como el bien tiene una primacía ontológica sobre el deber porque el hombre no es bueno cuando realiza actos buenos, sino que el hombre realiza actos buenos cuando es bueno. Analógicamente, lo justo=ius la tiene sobre el derecho y la lex.

 

 

 

(*) [e-mail]  arkegueta, aprendiz constante

www.disenso.com 

 

 

 

[1]Es cierto que se han producido éticas ateístas de la persona (Nicolai Hartmann) pero eso no dejó de ser un mero ejercicio filosófico que no jode a nadie.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Los artistas como intelectuales

              

Los artistas como intelectuales

 

Alberto Buela (*)

 

En una sociedad como la nuestra, de consumo, opulenta para pocos, cuyo dios es el mercado, la imagen reemplazó al concepto. Es que se dejo de leer para mirar, aun cuando rara vez se ve.

 

Y así los artistas, actores, cantantes, locutores y conductores televisión han reemplazado a los intelectuales.

 

Este reemplazo viene de otro más profundo; cuando los intelectuales, sobre todo a partir de la Revolución Francesa, vinieron a remplazar a los filósofos. Es cierto que siguió habiendo filósofos, pero el tono general de estos últimos dos siglos marca su desaparición pública.

El progresismo, esa enfermedad infantil de la socialdemocracia, se caracteriza por asumir la vanguardia como método y no como lucha, como sucedía con el viejo socialismo. Aún existe en Barcelona el viejo diario La Vanguardia.

 

La vanguardia como método quiere decir que para el progresista hay que estar, contra viento y marea, siempre en la cresta de la ola. Siempre adelante, en la vanguardia de las ideas, las modas, los usos, las costumbres y las actitudes.

 

El hombre progresista se sitúa siempre en el éxtasis temporal del futuro, ni el presente, ni mucho menos el pasado tiene para él significación alguna, y si la tuviera siempre está en función del futuro. No le interesa el ethos de la Nación histórica, incluso va contra este carácter histórico-cultural. Y esto es así, porque el progresista es su propio proyecto. Él se instala siempre en el futuro pues ha adoptado, repetimos, la vanguardia como método. Nadie ni nada puede haber delante de él, de lo contrario dejaría de ser progresista. Así se explica que el progresista no se pueda dar un proyecto de país ni de nación porque éste se ubicaría delante de él, lo cual implica y le crea una contradicción.

 

Y así como nadie puede dar lo que no tiene, el progresista no puede darse ni darnos un proyecto político porque él mismo es su proyecto político.

 

El hombre progre, al ser aquél que dice sí a toda novedad que se le propone encuentra en los artistas sus intelectuales. Hoy que en nuestra sociedad de consumo donde las imágenes han reemplazado a los conceptos nos encontramos con que los artistas son, en definitiva, los que plasman en imágenes los ideas. Y la formación del progresista consiste en eso, en una sucesión de imágenes truncas de la realidad. El homo festivus, figura emblemática del progresismo, del que hablan pensadores como Muray o Agulló, encuentra en el artista a su ideólogo.

 

El artista lo libera del esfuerzo, tanto de leer (hábito que se pierde irremisiblemente), como del mundo concreto. El progresista no quiere saber sino solo estar enterado. Tiene avidez de novedades. Y el mundo es “su mundo” y vive en la campana de cristal de los viejos almacenes de barrio que protegían a los dulces y los fiambres donde las moscas (el pueblo y sus problemas) no podían entrar.

 

Los progresistas porteños viven en Puerto Madero, no en Parque Patricios.

La táctica de los gobiernos progresistas es transformar al pueblo en “la gente”, esto es, en público consumidor, con lo cual el pueblo deja de ser el agente político principal de toda comunidad, para cederle ese protagonismo a los mass media, como ideólogos de las masas y a los artistas, como ideólogos de sus propias élites.

 

Este es un mecanismo que funciona a dos niveles: a) en los medios masivos de comunicación cientos periodistas y locutores, esos analfabetos culturales locuaces, según acertada expresión de Paul  Feyerabend (1924-1994) nos dicen qué debemos hacer y cómo debemos pensar. Son los mensajeros del “uno anónimo” de Heidegger que a través del dictador “se”, se dice, se piensa, se obra, se viste, se come, nos sume en la existencia impropia. b) a través de los artistas como traductores de conceptos a imágenes en los teatros y en los cines y para un público más restringido y con mayor poder adquisitivo: para los satisfechos del sistema.

 

 Esto es: los progres

 

El artista cumple con su función ideológica dentro del progresismo porque canta los infinitos temas de la reivindicación: el matrimonio gay, el aborto, la eutanasia, la adopción de niños por los homosexuales, el consumo de marihuana y coca, la lucha contra el imperialismo, la defensa del indigenismo, de los inmigrantes, de la reducción de las penas a los delincuentes, un guiño a la marginalidad y un largo etcétera. Pero nunca le canta a la inseguridad en las calles, la prostitución, la venta de niños, el turismo pedófilo, la falta de empleo, el creciente asesinato y robo de las personas, el juego por dinero, de eso no se habla como la película de Mastroiani. En definitiva, no ve los padecimientos de la sociedad sino sus goces.  

 

El artista como actor reclama para sí la transgresión pero ejecuta todas aquellas obras de teatro en donde se representa lo políticamente correcto. Y en este sentido, como dice Vittorio Messori, en primer lugar está el denigrar a la Iglesia, al orden social, a las virtudes burguesas de la moderación, la modestia, el ahorro, la limpieza, la fidelidad, la diligencia, la sensatez, haciéndose la apología de sus contrarios.

 

No hay actor o locutor que no se rasgue las vestiduras hablando de las víctimas judías del Holocausto, aunque nadie representa a las cristianas ni a las gitanas. Estas no tienen voz, como no la tienen las del genocidio armenio ni hoy las de Darfour en Sudán.

 

Así, si representan a Heidegger lo hacen como un nazi y si a Stalin como un maestro en humanidad. Al Papa siempre como un verdugo y a las monjas como pervertidas, pero a los prestamistas como necesitados y a los proxenetas liberadores.  Ya no más representaciones del Mercader de Venecia, ni de la Bolsa de Martel. El director que osa tocar a Wagner queda excomulgado por la policía del pensamiento y sino ¡qué le pregunten a Baremboin?

 

En el orden local si representan al Martín Fierro quitan la payada y duelo con el Moreno. Si al general Belgrano, lo presentan como doctor. A Perón como un burgués y a Evita como una revolucionaria. Pero claro, la figura emblemática de todo artista es el Che Guevara.

 

Toda la hermenéutica teatral está penetrada por el psicoanálisis teñido por la lógica hebrea de Freud y sus cientos de discípulos. Lógica que se resuelve en el rescate del “otro” pero para transformarlo en “lo mismo”, porque en el corazón de esta lógica “el otro”, como Jehová para Abraham, es vivido como amenaza y por eso en el supuesto rescate lo tengo que transformar en “lo mismo”.

 

Es que el artista está educado en la diferencia, lo vemos en su estrafalaria vestimenta y conducta. Él se piensa y se ve diferente pero su producto termina siendo un elemento más para la cohesión homgeneizadora de todas las diferencias y alteridades. Es un agente más de la globalización cultural.

 

El pluralismo predicado y representado termina en la apología del totalitarismo dulce de las socialdemocracias que reducen nuestra identidad a la de todos por igual.

 

Finalmente, el mecanismo político que está en la base de esta disolución del otro, como lo distinto, lo diferente, es el consenso. En él, funciona el simulacro del “como sí” kantiano. Así, le presto el oído al otro pero no lo escucho. Se produce una demorada negación del otro, porque, en definitiva, busco salvar las diferencias reduciéndolo a “lo mismo”.

 

Esta es la razón última por la cual nosotros venimos proponiendo desde hace años la teoría del disenso, que nace de la aceptación real y efectiva del principio de la diferencia, y tiene la exigencia de poder vivir en esa diferencia. Y este es el motivo por el cual se necesita hacer metapolítica: disciplina que encierra la exigencia de identificar en el área de la política mundial, regional o nacional, la diversidad ideológica tratando de convertir dicha diversidad en un concepto de comprensión política, según la sabia opinión del politólogo Giacomo Marramao.

 

El disenso debería ser el primer paso para hacer política pública genuina y la metapolítica el contenido filosófico y axiológico del agente político.    

 

 

[e-mail]

 

 

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

 

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

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

Guillaume Faye on Nietzsche

Guillaume Faye on Nietzsche

Translated by Greg Johnson

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

Translator’s Note:

The following interview of Guillaume Faye is from the Nietzsche Académie ^[2] blog. 

How important is Nietzsche for you?

Reading Nietzsche has been the departure point for all values ​​and ideas I developed later. In 1967, when I was a pupil of the Jesuits in Paris, something incredible happened in philosophy class. In that citadel of Catholicism, the philosophy teacher decided to do a year-long course on Nietzsche! Exeunt Descartes, Kant, Hegel, Marx, and others. The good fathers did not dare say anything, despite the upheaval in the program.

It marked me, believe me. Nietzsche, or the hermeneutics of suspicion. . . . Thus, very young, I distanced myself from the Christian, or rather “Christianomorphic,” view of the world. And of course, at the same time, from egalitarianism and humanism. All the analyses that I developed later were inspired by the insights of Nietzsche. But it was also in my nature.

Later, much later, just recently, I understood the need to complete the principles of Nietzsche with those of Aristotle, the good old Apollonian Greek, a pupil of Plato, whom he respected as well as criticized. There is for me an obvious philosophical affinity between Aristotle and Nietzsche: the refusal of metaphysics and idealism, and, crucially, the challenge to the idea of ​​divinity. Nietzsche’s “God is dead” is the counterpoint to Aristotle’s motionless and unconscious god, which is akin to a mathematical principle governing the universe.

Only Aristotle and Nietzsche, separated by many centuries, denied the presence of a self-conscious god without rejecting the sacred, but the latter is akin to a purely human exaltation based on politics or art.

Nevertheless, Christian theologians have never been bothered by Aristotle, but were very much so by Nietzsche. Why? Because Aristotle was pre-Christian and could not know Revelation. While Nietzsche, by attacking Christianity, knew exactly what he was doing.

Nevertheless, the Christian response to this atheism is irrefutable and deserves a good philosophical debate: faith is a different domain than the reflections of philosophers and remains a mystery. I remember, when I was with the Jesuits, passionate debates between my Nietzschean atheist philosophy teacher and the good fathers (his employers) sly and tolerant, sure of themselves.

What book by Nietzsche would you recommend?

The first one I read was The Gay Science. It was a shock. Then Beyond Good and Evil, where Nietzsche overturns the Manichean moral rules that come from Socrates and Christianity. The Antichrist, it must be said, inspired the whole anti-Christian discourse of the neo-pagan Right, in which I was obviously heavily involved.

But it should be noted that Nietzsche, who was raised Lutheran, had rebelled against Christian morality in its purest form represented by German Protestantism, but he never really understood the religiosity and the faith of traditional Catholics and Orthodox Christians, which is quite unconnected to secularized Christian morality.

Oddly, I was never excited by Thus Spoke Zarathustra. For me, it is a rather confused work, in which Nietzsche tried to be a prophet and a poet but failed. A bit like Voltaire, who believed himself clever in imitating the tragedies of Corneille. Voltaire, an author who, moreover, has spawned ideas quite contrary to this “philosophy of the Enlightenment” that Nietzsche (alone) had pulverized.

Being Nietzschean, what does this mean?

Nietzsche would not have liked this kind of question, for he did not want disciples, though . . .  (his character, very complex, was not devoid of vanity and frustration, just like you and me). Ask instead: What does it mean to follow Nietzschean principles?

This means breaking with Socratic, Stoic, and Christian principles and modern human egalitarianism, anthropocentrism, universal compassion, and universalist utopian harmony. It means accepting the possible reversal of all values ​​(Umwertung) to the detriment of humanistic ethics. The whole philosophy of Nietzsche is based on the logic of life: selection of the fittest, recognition of vital power (conservation of bloodlines at all costs) as the supreme value, abolition of dogmatic standards, the quest for historical grandeur, thinking of politics as aesthetics, radical inegalitarianism, etc.

That’s why all the thinkers and philosophers — self-appointed, and handsomely maintained by the system — who proclaim themselves more or less Nietzschean, are impostors. This was well understood by the writer Pierre Chassard who on good authority denounced the “scavengers of Nietzsche.” Indeed, it is very fashionable to be “Nietzschean.” Very curious on the part of publicists whose ideology — political correctness and right-thinking — is absolutely contrary to the philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche.

In fact, the pseudo-Nietzscheans have committed a grave philosophical confusion: they held that Nietzsche was a protest against the established order, but they pretended not to understand that it was their own order: egalitarianism based on a secularized interpretation of Christianity. “Christianomorphic” on the inside and outside. But they believed (or pretended to believe) that Nietzsche was a sort of anarchist, while advocating a ruthless new order. Nietzsche was not, like his scavengers, a rebel in slippers, a phony rebel, but a revolutionary visionary.

Is Nietzsche on the Right or Left?

Fools and shallow thinkers (especially on the Right) have always claimed that the notions of Left and Right made no sense. What a sinister error. Although the practical positions of the Left and Right may vary, the values ​​of Right and Left do exist. Nietzscheanism is obviously on the Right. The socialist mentality, the morality of the herd, made Nietzsche vomit. But that does not mean that thepeople of the extreme Right are Nietzscheans, far from it. For example, they are generally anti-Jewish, a position that Nietzsche castigated and considered stupid in many of his writings, and in his correspondence he singled out anti-Semitic admirers who completely misunderstood him.

Nietzscheanism, obviously, is on the Right, and the Left, always in a position of intellectual prostitution, attempted to neutralize Nietzsche because it could not censor him. To be brief, I would say that an honest interpretation of Nietzsche places him on the side of the revolutionary Right in Europe, using the concept of the Right for lack of  anything better (like any word, it describes things imperfectly).

Nietzsche, like Aristotle (and, indeed, like Plato, Kant, Hegel, and Marx, of course — but not at all Spinoza) deeply integrated politics in his thinking. For example, by a fantastic premonition, he was for a union of European nations, like Kant, but from a very different perspective. Kant the pacifist, universalist, and incorrigible utopian moralist, wanted the European Union as it exists today: a great flabby body without a sovereign head with the Rights of Man as its highest principle. Nietzsche, on the contrary, spoke of Great Politics, a grand design for a united Europe. For the moment, it is the Kantian view that has unfortunately been imposed.

On the other hand, the least we can say is that Nietzsche was not a Pan-German, a German nationalist, but rather a nationalistic — and patriotic — European. This was remarkable for a man who lived in his time, the second part of the 19th century (“This stupid 19th century,” said Léon Daudet), which exacerbated as a fatal poison the shabby petty intra-European nationalism that would result in the terrible fratricidal tragedy of 1914 to 1918, when young Europeans from 18 to 25 years, massacred one another without knowing exactly why. Nietzsche the European wanted anything but such a scenario.

That is why those who instrumentalized Nietzsche (in the 1930s) as an ideologue of Germanism are as wrong as those who, today, present him as a proto-Leftist. Nietzsche was a European patriot, and he put the genius of the German soul in the service of European power whose decline, as a visionary, he already sensed.

What authors do you see as Nietzschean?

Not necessarily those who claim Nietzsche. In reality, there are no actual “Nietzschean” authors. Simply, Nietzsche and others are part of a highly fluid and complex current that could be described as a “rebellion against the accepted principles.” On this point, I agree with the view of the Italian philosopher Giorgio Locchi, who was one of my teachers: Nietzsche inaugurated “superhumanism,” that is to say the surpassing of humanism. I’ll stop there, because I will not repeat what I have developed in some of my books, including Why We Fight and Sex and Perversion. One could say that a large number of authors and filmmakers are “Nietzschean,” but this kind of talk is very superficial.

On the other hand, I believe there is a strong link between the philosophy of Nietzsche and Aristotle, despite the centuries that separate them. To say that Aristotle is Nietzschean is obviously an anachronistic absurdity. But to say that Nietzsche’s philosophy continues Aristotle, the errant student of Plato, is a claim I will hazard. This is why I am both Aristotelian and Nietzschean: Because these two philosophers defend the fundamental idea that the supernatural deity must be examined in substance. Nietzsche looks at divinity with a critical perspective like Aristotle’s.

Most writers who call themselves admirers of Nietzsche are impostors. Paradoxically, I link Darwinism and Nietzsche. Those who actually interpret Nietzsche are accused by ideological manipulators of not being real “philosophers.” Even those who want Nietzsche to say the opposite of what he so inconveniently actually said. We must condemn this appropriation of philosophy by a caste of mandarins who proceed to distort the texts of the philosophers, or even censor them. Aristotle has also been a victim. One can read Nietzsche and other philosophers only through a scholarly grid, inaccessible to the common man. But no. Nietzsche is quite readable by any educated man. But our time can read only through the grid of censorship by omission.

Could you give a definition of the Superman?

Nietzsche intentionally gave a vague definition of the Superman. This is an open-ended yet clear concept. Obviously, the pseudo-Nietzschean intellectuals were quick to blur and empty this concept by making the Superman a sort of airy intellectual: detached, haughty, meditative, quasi-Buddhist—the conceited image they have of themselves. In short, the precise opposite of what Nietzsche intended. I am a partisan not of interpreting writers but of reading them, if possible, with the highest degree of respect.

Nietzsche obviously linked the Superman to the notion of Will to Power (which, too, has been manipulated and distorted). The Superman is the model of the man who fulfills the Will to Power, that is to say, who rises above herd morality (and Nietzsche thought socialism was a herd doctrine) to selflessly impose a new order, with two dimensions, warlike and sovereign, aiming at dominion, endowed with a power project. The interpretation of the Superman as a supreme “sage,” a non-violent, ethereal, proto-Gandhi of sorts is a deconstruction of Nietzsche’s thought in order to neutralize and blur it. The Parisian intelligentsia, whose hallmark is a spirit of falsehood, has a sophisticated but evil genius in distorting the thought of annoying but unavoidable great authors (including Aristotle and Voltaire) but also wrongly appropriating or truncating their thought.

There are two possible definitions of the Superman: the mental and the moral Superman (by evolution and education, surpassing his ancestors) and the biological superman. It’s very difficult to decide, since Nietzsche himself has used this expression as a sort of mytheme, a literary trope, without ever truly conceptualizing it. A sort of premonitory phrase, which was inspired by Darwinian evolutionism.

But your question is very interesting. The key is not having an answer “about Nietzsche,” but to know which path Nietzsche wanted to open over a hundred years ago. Because he was anti-Christian and anti-humanist, Nietzsche did not think that man was a fixed being, but that he is subject to evolution, even self-evolution (that is the sense of the metaphor of the “bridge between the beast and the Superman”).

For my part — but then I differ with Nietzsche, and my opinion does not possess immense value — I interpreted superhumanism as a challenge, for reasons partly biological, to the very notion of a human species. Briefly. This concept of the Superman is certainly much more than Will to Power, one of those mysterious traps Nietzsche set, one of the questions he posed to future humanity: Yes, what is the Superman? The very word makes us dreamy and delirious.

Nietzsche may have had the intuition that the human species, at least some of its higher components (not necessarily “humanity”), could accelerate and direct biological evolution. One thing is certain, that crushes the thoughts of monotheistic, anthropocentric “fixists”: man is not an essence that is beyond evolution. And then, to the concept of Übermensch, never forget to add that ofHerrenvolk . . . prescient. Also, we should not forget Nietzsche’s reflections on the question of race and anthropological inequality.

The capture of Nietzsche’s work by pseudo-scientists and pseudo-philosophical schools (comparable to the capture of the works of Aristotle) ​​is explained by the following simple fact: Nietzsche is too big a fish to be eliminated, but far too subversive not to be censored and distorted.

Your favorite quote from Nietzsche?

“We must now cease all forms of joking around.” This means, presciently, that the values ​​on which Western civilization are based are no longer acceptable. And that survival depends on a reversal or restoration of vital values. And all this assumes the end of festivisme (as coined by Philippe Muray and developed by Robert Steuckers) and a return to serious matters.

Source: http://nietzscheacademie.over-blog.com/article-nietzsche-vu-par-guillaume-faye-106329446.html ^[3]

 

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URL to article: http://www.counter-currents.com/2012/07/guillaume-faye-on-nietzsche/

Augustin Cochin on the French Revolution

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)

In 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).

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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