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mardi, 05 juillet 2016

Ultreïa n°8

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Ultreïa N°8

 

Eté 2016

Sommaire

Phares

Kabîr, maître et poète universaliste

Jean-Claude PERRIER

> Consulter cet article


Dans les pas des pèlerins de l'absolu

Arnaud Desjardins, le passeur entre deux mondes

Bernard CHEVILLIAT

> Consulter cet article


Dans les pas des pèlerins de l'absolu

Hauteville, un lieu pour croître

Christophe BOISVIEUX

> Consulter cet article


L'esprit des lieux

Fès, ville de l'esprit

Brice GRUET

> Consulter cet article


L'esprit des lieux

Souvenirs de Fès capitale spirituelle du Maroc
A la mémoire de Titus Burckhardt.

Roland et Sabrina MICHAUD

> Consulter cet article


A la croisée des chemins

Rencontre avec Sylvie Germain
" Notre besoin de sens n'a ni fin ni mesure, c'est le plus lancinant et inassouvissable des besoins."

Sylvie GERMAIN

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Nœuds et Labyrinthes - Dossier

Le CHAMANISME,
une NOUVELLE MÉDECINE de L' ÂME ?

Florence QUENTIN, Patrick CICOGNANI, David DUPUIS, Laetitia MERLI, Anne PASTOR, Audrey MOUGE, Corine SOMBRUN

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Nobles voyageurs - PORTFOLIO

Les Himalayas de Matthieu Ricard

Matthieu RICARD

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Figures libres

Charles de Foucauld ou le grand retournement

Christiane RANCÉ

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Les Cahiers Métaphysiques

Cahiers métaphysiques n°8

Muriel CHEMOUNY, Dr Jean-Marc KESPI

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Oasis

Francis Hallé pour l'amour des arbres

Claude ALBANESE

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Aux quatre angles du monde

La cité interdite sous le signe du yin-yang

Cyrille J.-D. JAVARY

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Rythmes & Sons

Les derviches tourneurs, une mystique de la danse

Père Alberto Fabio AMBROSIO

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Bivouac

La grande vision de Black Elk
Récit graphique - Episode 1/2

Jean-Marie MICHAUD

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Billet vagabond

Multiples sont les chemins des hommes ...

Jacqueline KELEN

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Édito par Florence QUENTIN

« De tous ses yeux la créature
voit l’Ouvert. Seuls nos yeux
sont comme retournés et posés autour d’elle
tels des pièges pour encercler sa libre issue.
Ce qui est au-dehors nous ne le connaissons
que par les yeux de l’animal. Car dès l’enfance
on nous retourne et nous contraint à voir l’envers,
les apparences, non l’ouvert…
Mais nous autres, jamais nous n’avons un seul jour
le pur espace devant nous, où les fleurs s’ouvrent
à l’infini. Toujours le monde, jamais le
Nulle part sans le Non, la pureté
insurveillée que l’on respire,
que l’on sait infinie et jamais ne désire.”
Rainer Maria Rilke, Élégies de Duino

Voir l’Ouvert. Respirer la pureté insurveillée et infinie. Rejoindre le Nulle part sans le Non. L’oeuvre de Rilke, poète orphique, est parcourue de ces fulgurances chamaniques qui l’inscrivent dans la lignée immémoriale des intermédiaires entre deux mondes, des Maîtres du désordre qui conversent avec les Esprits et guérissent les âmes. Depuis l’aube de l’humanité, couvrant de leurs manteaux célestes et chtoniens les Cinq Continents, les chamans se sont mis au service de la communauté pour maintenir le lien qui unit le clan à l’univers. Notre monde éreinté par l’inconséquence des hommes redécouvre ces traditions qui revivifient la terre, réensemencent les consciences et nous alertent sur l’imminence d’une catastrophe écologique et sociale, comme le montre notre dossier qui voit peut-être dans le retour du chamanisme une “nouvelle médecine de l’âme”.

Passée au crible d’anthropologues, cette expérience constitutive de la condition humaine est éclairée par les témoignages de voyageuses occidentales qui l’ont vécue au sein de traditions éloignées les unes des autres, mais qui se rejoignent sur le fond. La Grande Vision du Sioux Black Elk, notre nouveau récit graphique, sert une même idée d’inspiration céleste.

Le rituel de l’extase se retrouve dans la danse des derviches, à la fois tension vers l’Absolu et retour à l’Origine. Une quête qui irrigue aussi la vie d’Arnaud Desjardins, passeur inlassable, tout autant que celle de Kabîr, hindou shivaïste qui oeuvra pour une fraternité aux pieds d’un même Dieu, ou encore celle de Charles de Foucauld, qui témoigna “d’une âme poreuse à Dieu” ( C. Rancé ). Dieu-Rien. Dieu-Aucun qui stupéfie l’homme en “lui dévoilant l’éclat éblouissant de son vide, le silence vibrant de son appel, la pure nudité de sa richesse”, comme l’envisage quant à elle l’écrivain Sylvie Germain dans l’entretien qu’elle nous a accordé.

De part en part, ce Souffle parcourt Fès, dont Titus Burckhardt – à qui Roland Michaud rend ici hommage – disait qu’elle était construite “pour le bonheur des hommes, pour répondre à leurs besoins fondamentaux, physiques, sentimentaux et spirituels”.

L’aspiration au pinacle ne se fait jamais aussi pressante que dans l’Himalaya, où Matthieu Ricard nous entraîne à sa suite avec des images saisissantes qui parlent autant de monastères au bord du vide ou de ferveur populaire que de sa propre intériorité.
Et Rilke, en écho : “Nous devons accepter notre existence aussi loin qu’elle puisse aller; tout, même l’inouï doit y être possible. C’est là au fond le seul courage que l’on exige de nous : être assez courageux pour accueillir ce qui peut venir à notre rencontre de plus étrange, de plus extravagant, de plus inexplicable.” (Lettres à un jeune poète)

Au fil de ce numéro retrouvez nos dix chroniques :

Mosaïque du Ciel par Olivier GERMAIN-THOMAS –  Le pin et l’icône

Méditer en chemin par Fabrice MIDAL – La méditation et l’éthique

Le fil de l’émerveillement par Bertrand VERGELY – Un toast pour la bonne humeur

Ubiquité de la prière par Christiane RANCÉ – A l’écoute d’Eloa 

L’instant soufi par Éric GEOFFROY –  Conscience, quand tu nous tiens ! 

Il n’y a qu’une seule religion par Patrick LAUDE – Dieu de l’exclusion, Dieu de l’inclusion

La couronne du ciel par Frank LALOU – Mazel Tov ! 

Le buffle et la tortue par Cyrille J.D.JAVARY – « Entretiens » avec un ami chinois

Mais aussi  Signe & Traces, Rites & Repères

Symbolique universelle d’un signe, d’une gestuelle, d’un rite ou d’un mythe… 4 pages illustrées par Stéphanie LEDOUX.

jeudi, 30 juin 2016

Evola ’43-’45. Intervista a Gianfranco de Turris

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Evola ’43-’45. Intervista a Gianfranco de Turris

Ex: http://blog.ilgiornale.it

Evola-GdT2.pngÈ appena uscito per Mursia, firmato da Gianfranco de Turris, Julius Evola. Un filosofo in guerra. Il sottotitolo, 1943-1945, dovrebbe accendere qualche spia nei lettori del pensatore romano, essendo il periodo più misterioso della sua vita, quello di cui ha parlato di meno, con più lacune da un punto di vista biografico. Ora, finalmente, questo saggio ci svela ciò che fece in quegli anni, i viaggi in Italia ed Europa, la permanenza al Quartier Generale di Hitler e i nove mesi a Roma «città aperta», i rapporti con l’SD e il soggiorno a Vienna per studiare documenti massonici, il bombardamento in cui decise di saggiare il destino, interrogando tacitamente la sorte… Una trama che si sviluppa in un continente messo a ferro e fuoco da un conflitto mondiale, ricostruita con una minuzia storiografica esemplare: enorme la mole dei documenti citati, assieme a interviste e testimonianze personali. Ne abbiamo discusso con l’autore, domandandogli anzitutto quale sia stata la genesi di questo testo.

Il mio libro ha origine da una conferenza, tenuta a Milano alla fine degli anni Novanta, dedicata agli uomini della Repubblica Sociale, poi pubblicata in volume. Anche se Evola non può essere considerato in senso vero e proprio un “uomo della RSI”, ho scritto quel che si sapeva allora, sulla base dei suoi articoli pubblicati sul «Popolo Italiano» e riuniti sotto il titolo Con Mussolini al Quartier Generale di Hitler. Ho usato queste fonti come filo conduttore, aggiungendo altri particolari. In seguito, nel 2001, ne ho pubblicata una versione migliorata – ma non troppo – sulla rivista «Nuova Storia Contemporanea» di Francesco Perfetti. Da quel momento in poi, non ho mai smesso di raccogliere materiale.

Come si è mosso attraverso questo immenso corpus di fonti?

Sono state le parole di Evola a orientarmi, quel che diceva e che non diceva, ciò cui alludeva in quelle che possiamo chiamare le sue – pochissime – memorie. Ho messo insieme un mosaico d’informazioni e riferimenti – spesso indiretti – tratti da libri italiani e stranieri, insieme a testimonianze di persone che l’avevano conosciuto o che erano in contatto con altri protagonisti di questa storia. Ma spesso, devo dire, si è trattato anche di colpi di fortuna!

Le testimonianze raccolte hanno sostanzialmente confermato quel che si sapeva di lui in quegli anni, cruciali per l’Europa?

In genere hanno confermato tutto: i viaggi, gli incontri, gli spostamenti… Le uniche cose che sono state smentite sono tutte le leggende metropolitane, come, ad esempio, la questione della sua paralisi agli arti inferiori, avvenuta durante il famoso bombardamento a Vienna, che secondo alcuni aveva avuto invece origini “magiche”…! Ricordo che lui stesso rideva di queste dicerie… Ebbene, alcuni dei documenti rintracciati (come le lettere a Walter Heinrich che Hans Thomas Hakl mi ha messo a disposizione, insieme al rapporto medico allegato) hanno finalmente smentito tutto

Ma che ci faceva Evola a Rastenburg, al Quartier Generale di Hitler? E con il Duce, per giunta?

Evola parte da Roma alla fine dell’agosto 1943, con un gruppo di persone di cui non ha mai fatto il nome. Viaggia verso Berlino, per render conto ai tedeschi della situazione effettiva del Paese, ancora sotto il governo Badoglio. In Germania c’erano due tendenze: chi credeva in Badoglio, come il Ministero degli Esteri, e chi no, come l’SD e le SS. Questo contrasto impediva ai tedeschi di prendere qualsiasi decisione. Ebbene, Evola arriva in Germania, va a Berlino, parla con chi deve parlare. A quel punto, scopre che Giovanni Preziosi lo sta cercando, e va nella cittadina in cui risiede. Intanto, gli altri membri del gruppo tornano in Italia: quando decide di fare lo stesso, è l’8 settembre. Voleva partire il 9, ma la notte precedente sente l’annuncio dell’armistizio. Viene chiesto a lui e a Preziosi di parlare in radio, a nome di chi non intende sottoscrivere l’armistizio. L’annuncio non ha luogo, anche se alcuni storici affermano il contrario. I due vengono trasportati in aereo a Rastenburg, dove, mimetizzato in un bosco, c’è il Quartier Generale di Hitler. Vi giungono probabilmente il 9. Nel frattempo, Mussolini viene liberato dai paracadutisti di Student e dalle SS di Skorzeny e, dopo una o due tappe, arriva a Rastenburg, dove incontra una serie di personalità che si trovano sul luogo, tra cui il figlio Vittorio, Pavolini, Buffarini Guidi e Farinacci. Tra l’arrivo di Evola e Preziosi e la liberazione di Mussolini hanno luogo, come ampiamente documentato da storici come Attilio Tamaro, lunghe conversazioni su cosa si debba fare con l’Italia, ipotesi di governi diversi da contrapporre alla resa e al Regno del Sud, che si sarebbe creato di lì a poco.

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Gianfranco de Turris

Di questo incontro rimane la celebre scatola di sigari firmata dopo una serata di festeggiamenti da quasi tutti i presenti, poi conservata dal filosofo romano e riportata nel libro (©Fondazione J. Evola, qui riprodotta per gentile concessione).

I presenti – che risiedevano, assieme ad altre personalità italiane, nei vagoni di un treno, scrive Evola, «immobile» come la situazione politica del momento – firmarono una scatola di cubani Walter E. Beger, a ricordo del loro incontro. Dall’alto in basso le firme sono: Giovanni Preziosi, un nome tedesco incomprensibile, Alessandro Pavolini, Orio Ruberti, Cesare Rivelli, Ugo Valla, Angelo Vecchio Verderame, J. Evola, uno sconosciuto A. Zinay, Vittorio Mussolini e Renato Ricci. Manca la firma di Farinacci, in quel momento assente poiché, scrive Evola, convocato dal Duce in udienza privata.

Un altro documento molto particolare è quello selezionato per la copertina…

Questa immagine è stata scelta perché è quella più singolare, e sicuramente colpisce il lettore, per un libro di questo genere. Di solito è poco riprodotta: è una delle molte scattate il pomeriggio del 20 luglio 1944, dopo l’attentato di von Stauffenberg, avvenuto la mattina. Per un insieme di casualità della storia – dimostrazione del fatto che nulla è già scritto – l’attentato del conte non raggiunse il suo scopo. Nella foto, oltre al Duce e al Führer si distinguono Bormann, Göring e l’ammiraglio Dönitz. Alle sue spalle, in terza fila, si scorge il profilo di un uomo in borghese con i calzoni alla zuava, così sembra. Dalla Germania, anni fa, giunse la segnalazione che secondo alcuni si trattava di Julius Evola. Guardandolo bene, in effetti, è impossibile non notare una qualche vaga somiglianza – i capelli, il naso, eccetera eccetera – ma un esame dei fatti pratici dimostra che è impossibile. Il 20 luglio Evola era a Vienna, sotto falso nome. Ciononostante, si tratta di un’immagine molto curiosa, che analizzo nel libro.

Quanto rimane ancora da scoprire sulla vita di Evola di quegli anni?

Poiché di testimoni diretti non ne esistono più, occorre basarsi su materiali di archivio, pubblici o privati. Ad esempio, le lettere di Evola a Heinrich di cui ho già parlato, venute alla luce solo nel 2014, che hanno rivelato la data del bombardamento che l’ha travolto, il nome falso che aveva a Vienna e altre cose. Ma si può anche andare per induzione, integrando le lacune di alcuni documenti usandone altri. Certo, di cose da scoprire ce ne sono ancora. Ad esempio, se si riuscisse ad avere – ma penso siano andate distrutte o perdute – le lettere di Evola a Goffredo Pistoni, potremmo sicuramente avere dettagli aggiuntivi. Oppure le missive che il filosofo scriveva ai suoi amici quando era in ospedale: alcune le abbiamo recuperate, molte no. Altro non credo ci sia: ad esempio, da dove potrebbero mai uscire dettagli del viaggio che fece da Roma a Firenze e poi da Firenze a Verona, dopo l’arrivo degli Alleati? E cosa fece esattamente nella città scaligera?

Un mistero destinato a restare tale, insomma…

Sarà sempre così, proprio perché non ci sono fonti dirette su tutta questa vicenda, che può essere rischiarata solo a partire da deduzioni. Nelle linee generali e complessive, però, i fatti accaduti sono questi. Non credo che altre acquisizioni possano modificare sostanzialmente questa ricostruzione, che mi ha impegnato per anni ma che finalmente getta luce su uno dei periodi più enigmatici della vita di Julius Evola. Se il mio libro, pur con tutte le sue ipotesi, servisse a stimolare ricordi, indicazioni, nuove deduzioni, avrebbe già assolto parte del suo compito.

mercredi, 15 juin 2016

Julius Evola ou la mystique du détachement

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Julius Evola ou la mystique du détachement

À mi-chemin entre le métaphysicien et le samouraï, Julius Evola a élaboré une vision de la politique et de la Tradition qui l’éloigne de la plupart des théoriciens politiques et des tenants du traditionalisme. Son approche repose sur un principe intangible : se détacher du monde tel qu’il est.

À l’âge de vingt-trois ans, alors qu’il est décidé à mettre fin « librement » à ses jours, à la façon des philosophes Otto Weininger et Carlo Michelstaedter, Julius Evola a une illumination en lisant un texte du Majjhima Nikaya : « Celui qui prend l’extinction comme extinction, qui pense l’extinction, qui pense à l’extinction, qui pense ‘L’extinction est mienne’ et se réjouit de l’extinction, celui-là, je le dis, ne connaît pas l’extinction. » Evola comprend que la liberté par laquelle il désire en finir est encore un lien, une ignorance opposée à la vraie liberté. Dès lors, il sent naître en lui une « fermeté capable de résister à toute crise » existentielle et, plus largement, à la crise du monde moderne.

Julius Evola soumettra ainsi ses connaissances et expériences, si diverses, à cette seule discipline : le détachement ferme. Lorsqu’il sera victime d’un bombardement à Vienne, qui lui causera une lésion partielle et une paralysie des membres inférieurs, il ne se sentira pas particulièrement touché par cette incapacité physique, son activité spirituelle et intellectuelle n’en étant en aucune façon compromise. Il manifestera également très tôt une insensibilité, voire une certaine froideur d’âme, envers la manière de vivre de ses contemporains. Son souci de considérer les arts, la philosophie, la politique, le sacré, malgré son détachement intérieur, s’expliquent par ce qu’il appelle son « équation personnelle » : une impulsion, dès sa prime jeunesse, vers la transcendance ; et une disposition de kshatriya, terme hindou désignant un type humain « guerrier », enclin à l’action et à l’affirmation, par opposition au brahmâna, type sacerdotal ou contemplatif. Ces deux tendances détermineront entièrement Evola dans son rapport au monde.

De l’Individu absolu à la Tradition

On retrouve nettement dans ses écrits l’influence de trois philosophes : Carlo Michelstaedter, sur la question de l’autonomie de l’être (Phénoménologie de l’Individu Absolu) ; Otto Weininger, sur sa lecture de la déviation matriarcale de la spiritualité (Révolte contre le monde moderne) ; et enfin Friedrich Nietzsche, dans sa vision antibourgeoise de l’homme différencié (Chevaucher le tigre).

evindab1105650752.JPGSi Evola naît dans une famille catholique et bourgeoise, il en rejette rapidement ces deux aspects. Le catholicisme, moral et sentimental, lui semble étranger à une véritable sacralité et une haute ascèse, loin de l’idéal « viril et aristocratique » du bouddhisme aryen. Son mépris de la vie bourgeoise lui fait refuser une chaire universitaire.

En marge de l’existentialisme, Evola développe une phénoménologie complexe de l’Individu absolu. Introduction philosophique à un monde non philosophique, il s’agit d’un retour à l’être transpersonnel, « sous le signe de la liberté réelle et de la puissance ». Selon Evola, la philosophie, qui culmine dans l’idéalisme transcendantal, fait inévitablement banqueroute dans l’idéalisme magique. Son idée consiste donc à penser à un développement qui, sans retomber dans la philosophie, fait franchir un pas, le dernier pas, à la spéculation occidentale. La théorie de l’Individu absolu est une sorte d’existentialisme positif. L’homme n’y est pas brisé par sa situation métaphysique.

Après un intérêt vif pour le tantrisme et le paganisme, Julius Evola découvre l’œuvre de René Guénon. Si son équation personnelle l’éloigne de l’orientation essentiellement intellectuelle de Guénon, il comprend néanmoins l’intérêt d’une critique cartésienne du monde moderne, le monde anormal, et la contre-partie positive de cette critique : le monde normal au sens supérieur, celui de la Tradition. Le monde de la Tradition, dont les différentes traditions particulières pré-modernes sont des émanations, des reflets ou des adaptations, désigne la civilisation organique, hiérarchisée, où toutes les activités humaines sont orientées vers le haut, avec à sa tête une élite qui incarne l’autorité légitime et impersonnelle. Dès lors, Evola cherche non seulement à concilier l’idée de l’Individu absolu, « sans lois, destructeur de tout lien », avec l’idée de Tradition, qui lui semble opposée ; mais aussi à recourir davantage dans son œuvre à l’idée de mythologie, à travers l’origine nordique, hyperboréenne, de la Tradition primordiale.

Evola emprunte à Johann Jakob Bachofen sa lecture de la morphologie des civilisations, en rejetant l’aspect évolutionniste, y préférant la thèse involutive de Guénon. Tout au long de l’histoire connue, on a assisté à une altération du monde de la Tradition, avec notamment la dissociation entre autorité spirituelle et pouvoir temporel, inséparables aux origines. La civilisation, à l’origine, est patriarcale, héroïque, solaire, olympienne, virile ; elle se détériore sous les influences altératrices de la civilisation matriarcale, lunaire, tellurique, chtonienne, et aboutit à l’âge sombre, au kali-yuga.

De la révolte à l’apoliteia

Pour Evola, l’idée de Tradition est, surtout au sein du monde moderne, proprement révolutionnaire. S’il a d’abord vu dans le fascisme et le national-socialisme de possibles moyens d’expression des valeurs de la Tradition hyperboréenne, il ne ménage guère ses critiques envers les deux tendances. Dans un ouvrage au titre amusant, Le fascisme vu de droite, il ira même jusqu’à leur reprocher, outre leur nationalisme étriqué et leur racisme biologique, leur culte typiquement plébéien du travail. Après un procès dans lequel on l’accuse d’être le maître à penser de mouvements activistes néo-fascistes, Evola, relaxé, rédige un ouvrage dans lequel il transpose politiquement les idées de la Tradition. Son objectif est de promouvoir la formation d’un rassemblement de Droite authentique (au sens spirituel, pas uniquement politique), par rattachement aux principes contre-révolutionnaires. Cependant, malgré la bonne réception de l’ouvrage au sein de la droite radicale, Evola ne croit plus en la solution politique.

CAVALCARE-LA-TIGRE.jpgSon ouvrage Chevaucher le tigre est un bilan de ses expériences, et un constat de réalisme ferme : rien ne peut être fait, ni artistiquement, ni religieusement, ni politiquement, pour provoquer un bouleversement positif au sein du monde moderne. Le seul horizon, c’est le chaos. Ce livre s’adresse aux hommes différenciés, ceux qui n’appartiennent pas intérieurement au monde moderne, qui sont de l’autre civilisation. Selon une image extrême-orientale, « si l’on réussit à chevaucher un tigre, on l’empêche de se jeter sur vous et, […] en outre, si l’on ne descend pas, si l’on maintient la prise, il se peut que l’on ait, à la fin, raison de lui. » Evola s’adresse aux « convives de pierre », aux Individus absolus, ceux qui ne peuvent ou ne veulent pas se détacher du monde actuel, et qui sont prêts à y vivre « sous les formes les plus paroxystiques ». Evola y examine, sous formes d’orientations existentielles, les possibilités d’émancipation totale de l’être par la mise en confrontation avec les processus destructeurs du monde moderne.

Mais surtout, on retrouve là, comme magnifiée, la constante du cheminement spirituel et intellectuel de Julius Evola, le détachement, expression parfaite de son équation personnelle : inclination à l’action, détachement affectif. Pour Evola, l’homme différencié doit faire ce qui doit être fait, de façon impersonnelle, sans égard pour la victoire ou la défaite d’une action, sans le souci d’être approuvé ou désapprouvé. Une « action sans désir ». Dans Chevaucher le tigre, Evola recourt au principe d’apoliteia, « l’irrévocable distance intérieure à l’égard de la société moderne et de ses valeurs ». Le refus du « moindre lien spirituel ou moral » avec elle. Avant d’être un penseur de la Tradition et un théoricien politique, Julius Evola est avant tout un apôtre de la mystique du détachement.

samedi, 04 juin 2016

The Geopolitics of Athos

Athos and Russia: Byzantine Symphony on the Holy Mountain

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Poutine au Mont Athos

Athos and Russia: Byzantine Symphony on the Holy Mountain

Ex: http://ww.katehon.com

The special status

Mount Athos has a special status within the Orthodox world. Under the Byzantine Emperor Alexius Comnenus, the Athos monastic republic gained autonomy from the Patriarchate of Constantinople. Athos enjoyed self-rule even under the Ottomans. In modern Greece, Athos, as the "Autonomous monastic state of the Holy Mountain", also enjoys a special status. Athos, from a geopolitical point of view, is a unique state-like entity that does not fit in the territorial order of national states of the modern era. For traditional society, the special self-governing status of the holy places, marked by the special presence of the sacred, is a rather normative phenomenon. Modernity takes the issue differently. It unifies polity and deprives everything connected to religion of special status. It is called securitization. Even the ultra-religious Saudi Arabian Mecca, the holy city of Muslims, is devoid of autonomous status under the control of the Hashemite clan, which it enjoyed for more than 700 years. Athos is still a state within a state.

In the period between the First Balkan War of 1912-1913 and the signing of the Lausanne Peace Treaty of 1921, which recognized the sovereignty of Greece on the Athos peninsula, the transformation of Mount Athos in the territory under the control of all the Orthodox nations was actively discussed. The main engine of this idea was Russia. The fact that special attention was paid to Athos by the Russian Empire until 1917 is no accident, as well as the increased interest of the Russian authorities to the Holy Mountain after Vladimir Putin became Russian President.

Empire of the spirit

The legal specialness of Athos is a phenomenon unique in the modern world, reflecting its spiritual nature. Athos is important as the center of Orthodox spirituality and the region, which is under the direct control of God. This place brings together earthly and heavenly dimensions. From the point of view of secular geography - it's just a mountainous peninsula in northern Greece, but for the orthodox believers all over the world - this place has a universal, ecumenical significance. Athos is the universal Orthodox monastic republic. On its territory you can meet representatives of all the Orthodox nations: Russian, Greeks, Romanians, Serbs, Bulgarians, Arabs, Albanians, Macedonians, as well as who took the Orthodox representatives of other nations and cultures and visit Russian, Serbian, Bulgarian, and Georgian monasteries.

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The peninsula is under the omophorion of the Patriarchate of Constantinople, but is autonomous from it and condemns all its recent ecumenical innovations. Athos is a republic of the monks, as it is often called, and at the same time it is the universal Orthodox spiritual empire in miniature form. In this comparison there is nothing paradoxical, as the Byzantines inherited the Roman Empire and the Roman Republic, and at least formally retained some of the attributes of the former republican Rome. Getting to Mount Athos and becoming a monk, monastery worker, pilgrim, or a novice does not lose its former ethnic and national identity, but acquires a new, Byzantine one - universal and imperial. Athos is an orthodox empire of the spirit, which further contrasts against the background of the small peninsula, the symbol and embodiment of universal Orthodox spiritual unity.

This explains why so much attention was paid to Athos by sovereigns of countries applying for continuity of Byzantium, fallen under the blows of the Turks in 1453. Moldavian and Wallachian princes and rulers in Moscow sent rich gifts. But only the last, in the end, won the right to the Byzantine imperial status. Vladimir Putin was the first Russian ruler who visited Athos in history in 2005, thereby restoring the interrupted communication not only with the Russian imperial past, but also with the Byzantine heritage. The Russian President and the Patriarch’s joint visit to Athos demonstrates its Katehonical nature as a force orientated to the preservation of the Christian faith and Christian values in a godless world in the face of impending apostasy. Can you imagine that Western, nominally Christian leaders can undertake something like that?

Athos and Katehon

Russia since its Christianization has always been closely connected with the spiritual life of Athos. The founder of Russian monasticism in Russia and the first monastery of Kiev Pechersk Lavra, Anthony of the Caves, for a long time lived on the Holy Mountain. From there the Athos tradition of eldership and tacit prayer spread throughout Russia. Its relationship with Russia Athos, as Ivan Kontsevich in his famous work "The acquisition of the Holy Spirit in the ways of ancient Rus' noted, was a fruitful source of spiritual activity in Russian monasteries themselves. The times when this relationship was weakened (XVII-XVIII), was characterized by religious discord in Russia itself (but not without the influence of the Greek and the participation of some afonites).

At the time when in Russia there was high a risk the emasculation of the inner spiritual essence of Orthodoxy, the substitution of Hesychasm by the purely external ritual side of Church life, or even secularization of Church and empire ascetics like the Nile of Sora and later Paisius Velichkovsky, associated with the Athos, restored delicate balance between the internal and external imperial power of the state, and the wealth of the church and the living experience of Orthodoxy, the epitome of which was the institution of eldership. St. Paisius’ threads of spiritual succession are already drawn to the Elders of Optina and St. Seraphim of Sarov. Thus, if we recognize that Russia was (and still is) Katechon, the force holding the world from the coming of the Antichrist, the Athos performed a Katehonical function in relation to Russia preserving the inner prayer of heart as a core and essence of Orthodoxy.

Athos and Russian Logos

The flowering of Russian monasticism on Mount Athos began since the second half of the 19th century, and peaked during the reign of the last Russian Tsar. It is significant that disputes on the place of worship were at that time the focus of public attention, and even issue of the state policy. The "gunboat diplomacy", solution to the complex theological issue may be not the best method, however, it demonstrated the seriousness of the problem for the whole Russian society at the time - that Russia lived in religious philosophy, and Russian Athos lived in it. This Russian Athos, among other things, gave us a the wonderful Saint Silouan the Athonite and many other devotees, such as Archimandrite Sophronius Sakharov or Elder Tikhon (Golenkov), and mentor Saint Paisius Athonite. Spiritual activity in Russian Athos continued during the Bolshevik persecutions in Russia. Thus, Athos for modern Russia is a link with its own history, culture, and spirituality. Unlike most of us, Athos is not post-Soviet, it is namely Russian.

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The geopolitical significance of the Russian president and Patriarch of the Russian Orthodox Church’s visit to Mount Athos lies not in the strengthening of Russian presence on Athos, but in the imparting of an explicitly imperial, Orthodox, and Byzantine meaning to foreign state and Church policy, and the acceptance of the Athonite imperial mission and Athonite zeal in faith in opposition to Western liberalism and lukewarm ecumenism. The joint symphonical Byzantine visits of the head of the Russian state and the Patriarch symbolically steers the movement in this direction.

lundi, 30 mai 2016

Los alevíes, del misticismo a la lucha antisistema

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Los alevíes, del misticismo a la lucha antisistema

AVT2_Hac-Bektas-Veli_5345.jpegSin lugar a dudas, a primera vista, el ojo inexperto sería incapaz de distinguir a una persona aleví del resto de musulmanes. Incluso sus centros de culto, decorados en ocasiones con cúpulas y minaretes, podrían pasar, vistos desde el exterior, como una mezquita más. No obstante, a medida que se curiosea con mayor detalle, se dará cuenta de las enormes diferencias existentes entre la comunidad alevi y los suníes y shiíes. Pero, ¿quiénes son los alevíes?

Una fe nacida en las montañas

Los alevíes son fieles pertenencientes a una de las ramas no ortodoxas del Islam. Su tradición bebe de las enseñanzas del místico Hacı Bektaş, que vivió en la península de Anatolia entre 1209 y 1271 d.C. Su filosofía se basaba en el respeto hacia el resto de seres humanos y en la modestia y la equidad como formas de demostrar el amor por Dios y purificar la propia alma. No obstante, lo cierto es que no era teólogo ni llevó a cabo estudios en ninguna madrasa –escuela coránica–, sino que sus conocimientos los adquirió en sus viajes, por sus contactos con diferentes cofradías sufíes y por herencia de las tradiciones de tipo chamánico de su propia tribu, de origen turconamo. De hecho, siempre se mantuvo más cerca de la gente común que de los doctores de la ley islámica.

A Bektaş se le atribuirían poderes de inspiración divina, tales como la adivinación o la sanación, lo que poco a poco iría congregando una cofradía a su alrededor. Así se configuraría un culto que mezclaba ritos islámicos con prácticas chamánicas procedentes de Asia central, a lo que se añadían prolongados períodos de meditación y el uso de sustancias alucinógenas como forma de liberar al espíritu del cuerpo y acercarse a Dios. Todo ello características comunes entre las ramas gnósticas de la religión de Mahoma, presentes en todo el mundo islámico.

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De las tribus turcomanas que seguirían las enseñanzas de Bektaş surgiría la comunidad aleví, la cual se impregnaría, de una forma u otra, de influencias de otros cultos y sectas que arraigarían en la dinámica península de Anatolia. Allí confluirían el shiismo en sus diversas corrientes y el sunismo, además de prácticas ancestrales de origen tribal y procedentes de toda Asia, traídas por las tribus nómadas en sus desplazamientos por el continente. Entre estas influencias se encontraría la de los Ahi, una cofradía religiosa-gremial, creada por el gran maestro Ahi Evren Veli, que bebía de la tradición de la futuwwa, la caballería islámica. Y también los hurufíes, una doctrina islámica cabalística con claras influencias shiíes y con elementos preislámicos.

Posteriormente, diversos acontecimientos reforzarían la autoconciencia de los alevíes como una secta particular. En primer lugar las matanzas de shiíes que el Sultán Selim I el Severo llevó a cabo en la Anatolia ante la amenaza de los persas safávidas –los cuales harían del shiísmo la religión oficial de Irán– y que afectarían a las comunidades alevíes por sus semejanzas doctrinales con esa rama del islam. En segundo término, también en este período, los dirigentes otomanos reforzarían el sunismo y su ortodoxia, hasta ese momento algo ambigua. Todo ello obligaría a los alevíes a huir y esconderse en las zonas montañosas. Allí, separados del resto de la comunidad musulmana, a salvo de la represión imperial y sin influencias de otros cultos, desarrollarían su fe y consolidarían la doctrina aleví. No obstante, es notable comprobar que no se les llamaría como tal hasta el siglo XIX, siendo hasta entonces considerados herejes, blasfemos o, simplemente, ateos.

Un culto particular

En definitiva, en la forja de Anatolia se configuraría una fe muy especial, que si bien compartiría infinidad de creencias, símbolos y prácticas con alguna de las ramas del Islam, diferiría en muchas otras. Así pues, los alevíes creen –de manera similar al Islam shií– en la trinidad formada por Dios, Mahoma y Alí –yerno del profeta–, además de divinizar a diversos personajes, como el propio Hacı Bektaş o el Shah Ismail. Por otra parte, algo curioso de los alevíes es que no creen en la muerte como un hecho definitivo, ni en Dios como un juez que condena al cielo o al infierno en función de los actos en el mundo terrenal, sino en la reencarnación del alma en otro cuerpo tras el fin de cada vida, y en la unidad del mundo con la divinidad. En función de ello consideran a sus grandes héroes y heroínas como reencarnaciones del propio Alí. Asimismo, y aunque como el resto de musulmanes también consideran sagrados la Biblia o la Torá, no usan el mismo Corán que los musulmanes suníes, sino el Corán que supuestamente fue memorizado por Alí.

Por otro lado, no practican rituales fundamentales del Islam suní, tales como el ramadán o las cinco oraciones diarias, sino que tienen su propio ayuno, los doce primeros días del mes de muharram –el primer mes del calendario musulmán–, y además practican ayunos para purificarse cuando sufren alguna dolencia física o espiritual. De la misma forma, el ritual de la oración aleví es distinto, cumpliendo la función tanto de ceremonia religiosa como de reunión social, y llevándose a cabo en medio de bailes y al son de la música. Todo ello configurando un rito cuya función es tanto la de unirse con Dios como la de purificarse del mundo material.

Además, algo muy característico de los alevíes, que remarcaría sus enormes diferencias con el resto de musulmanes, es la concepción igualitaria entre hombres y mujeres dentro del espacio para el culto. Y es que, a diferencia de los que ocurre en las mezquitas suníes o shiíes, no existen espacios separados para cada género en el ineterior de los templos, y tanto mujeres como varones pueden encargarse de dirigir la oración de la comunidad.

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Los otros hijos de Atatürk

En 1919, tras la Primera Guerra Mundial, lo que quedaba del mesmembrado Imperio Otomano, y que constituiría el territorio de la futura República de Turquía, quedaría dividida y ocupada por las potencias vencedoras de la contienda. No obstante, esta situación no iba a durar mucho, pues la resistencia nacionalista, dirigida por Mustafa Kemal Atatürkpadre de los turcos–, se reagruparía en el noroeste, iniciando la guerra de independencia. Los alevíes también se unirían a la guerra, atraídos por los valores que promulgaba el líder turco, tales como el laicismo, el republicanismo o la igualdad de género, el cual además rendiría respetos a su querido santo Hacı Bektaş.

Los turcos saldrían victoriosos del enfrentamiento contra los invasores y en 1923 se proclamaría la República. No obstante, y si bien el Estado turco se construiría impulsado por un nacionalismo de tipo secular, en el cual política y religión debían estar separados en dos ámbitos diferenciados, en la práctica no todas las religionas vendrían a gozar del mismo respeto. El objetivo de Mustafa Kemal no sería tanto el erradicar la religión, consciente de la importancia que tenía ésta para muchos de los habitantes del Estado que pretendía diseñar, construir y gobernar, sino someterla al control burocrático del aparato estatal, adecuándola así a su propósito de configurar una conciencia nacional desde cero. Las instituciones creadas para ello fueron el Directorio de Asuntos Religiosos y el Directorio de Fundaciones Religiosas. No obstante, estas instituciones no representarían la pluralidad religiosa de la nueva república, sino que impondrían el Islam suní mayoritario como la versión verdadera de la fe. Con ello, las comunidades no suníes, entre ellas los alevíes, quedarían totalmente excluidas, los cuales, a pesar de conformar alrededor de un 20% de la población hasta nuestros días, serían obligados a reprimir su identidad cultural, haciéndose pasar por suníes si querían ser tratados como miembros iguales de la nación turca en la esfera pública.

Los alevíes en Turquía se concentran especialmente en la zona central de Anatolia
Los alevíes en Turquía se concentran especialmente en la zona central de Anatolia

A partir de ese momento los alevíes, que se habían visto sometidos a diversos tipos de persecución, comenzarían a experimentar discriminación a muchos niveles. Por ejemplo, sería muy difícil encontrar alevíes en puestos prominentes de la burocracia o el ejército. Y, por supuesto, la educación religiosa que se llevase a cabo en los colegios sería exclusivamente suní. Además, los clérigos suníes y sus mezquitas recibirían sueldos y financiación estatal, un privilegio del que jamás gozarían las comunidades alevíes, cuyos centros de culto, las llamadas cemevis, ni siquiera serían considerados como tal.

Posteriormente, durante las primeras décadas de la república, se producirían una serie de levantamientos protagonizados por el pueblo kurdo, que reclamaba para sí la autodeterminación y la formación de un Estado propio, algo que los tratados internacionales del fin de la guerra les habían negado. Muchos kurdos-alevíes participarían en dichas revueltas –las cuales serían brutalmente aplastadas–, lo que llevaría a que a lo largo de las sucesivas décadas el discurso hegemónico kemalista equiparara a los alevíes con los kurdos, justificando así ataques contra los primeros. Si tenemos en cuenta la articulación del nacionalismo kemalista alrededor de una fuerte identidad étnica turca, que considera a los kurdos como un pueblo atrasado y oscurantista o, en el mejor de los casos, como turcos que han olvidado su turquicidad y que hay que reeducar, podemos entender el estigma con el que los alevíes fueron marcados.

A pesar de todo, lo cierto es que los alevíes fueron de los grupos más receptivos a la hora de aceptar la nueva coyuntura, viendo el proceso de secularización impulsado por el Estado como un avance, y no cuestionaron su posición dentro del orden político hasta décadas recientes. De hecho, con la llegada del sistema pluripartidista en los años 40 muchos alevíes votarían al Partido Democrático (DP), heredero de la tradición republicana. Asimismo, aún a día de hoy continúan siendo uno de los apoyos sociales más amplios de los partidos políticos kemalistas.

Cuando las calles se tiñeron de rojo

Más adelante, el aumento de las libertades propiciado por la constitución de 1961 llevaría al desarrollo de organizaciones alevíes, impulsadas además por unas élites intelectuales que comenzarían a fomentar el desarrollo de una identidad particular. No obstante, sería en los 70  cuando la polarización política turca alcanzara su punto culmimante, la época en que los alevíes adquirirían un mayor y más determinante peso político. Durante este tiempo, los partidos conservadores turcos se inclinarían cada vez más hacia la derecha, identificándose política e ideológicamente con el espectro reiligioso suní. A su vez, los partidos de izquierdas de inspiración marxista también se radicalizarían, atrayéndose hacia sí a los grupos nacionalistas kurdos, y también a los alevíes. Serían los particulares años de plomo para Turquía, que vio como las guerrillas de uno y otro bando tomaban las calles, con el ejército y las fuerzas de seguridad del estado participando activamente en las batallas urbanas, apoyando a los grupos de extrema derecha, y con más de 20 asesinatos al día durante la mayor parte de la década.

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Todo ello vendría a ligar irremediablemente a la comunidad aleví con el eje político de la izquierda radical, siendo considerados un grupo subversivo; además se reforzaría su equiparación con el pueblo kurdo, que además en las décadas siguientes vendría a adquirir la connotación de terrorista. Esto tendría una enorme importancia especialmente a partir del golpe de estado de 1980, cuando la represión estatal hacia los movimientos de izquierda, de los kurdos y de cualquier tipo de oposición política se dispararía. Pero de hecho, incluso antes, durante los propios años 70, los grupos de extrema derecha llevarían a cabo progroms contra comunidades alevíes, como es el caso de la masacre ocurrida en 1978 en la ciudad de Kahramanmaraş, perpetrada por los Lobos Grises y que acabaría con la vida de más de cien personas. Este tipo de sucesos se repetirían en las décadas siguientes, como en la masacre de Sivas de 1993, esta vez a manos de un grupo de radicales salafistas.

La síntesis turco-islámica

En definitiva, de nuevo los alevíes se verían definidos por el discurso dominante de las instituciones del Estado como una amenza para la estabilidad de la nación. Un hecho que se uniría a la potenciación por parte de los militares de la síntesis turco-islámica a partir del golpe de Estado de 1980, que pretendía movilizar la religión para combatir la movilización política antiestatal, y que desarrollaría una conciencia nacional turca reforzada con una buena dosis de conservadurismo religiosos de tipo suní, que volvería a situar a la comunidad aleví ante una encrucijada: asimilar el Islam suní mayoritario como propio o verse abocados a la marginación. Los alevíes volvían así a la casilla de salida de los primeros días de la república con Mustafa Kemal.

No obstante, a su vez sería el proceso de neoliberalización económica iniciado en los 80 el que pondría en cuestión el modelo estatocéntrico de modernización, impulsando las posturas que favorecían a los individuos frente al Estado. Una situación fomentada también por las cada vez más estrechas relaciones con la Unión Europea (UE) y la Organización para la Seguridad y la Cooperación Europea (OSCE) en las sucesivas décadas, que pedirían a Turquía aplicar de manera progresiva una serie de criterios fundamentales en materia de derechos humanos. En este contexto, los alevíes, los cuales se sumarían también al éxodo rural hacia los grandes núcleos urbanos turcos, donde les sería complicado seguir con sus rituales tradicionales, empezarían a reclamar con mucha más fuerza su reconocimiento oficial como un colectivo diferenciado de la mayoría suní, lo que llevaría asociado la demanda de una serie de derechos políticos y sociales determinados.

Los alevíes y el nuevo sultán

alev220-BIG.jpgPosteriormente, tras la década de 1990, los movimientos islamistas articularían una identidad nacional alternativa que definiría la nación como una civilización otomana esencialmente islámica, en contraste con la identidad oficial, laica y occidentalizada. De esta nueva concepción de la república turca nacería, en agosto de 2001, el Partido de la Justicia y el Desarrollo  (AKP por sus siglas en turco), liderado por el actual presidente, Recep Tayyip Erdogan. Quince meses después se celebrarían las elecciones, iniciándose una nueva era para la política de la república.  Y es que cuando en 2002 el partido AKP se alzara victorioso en las elecciones, se iniciaría un proceso que cambiaría la política turca hasta la actualidad. Por un lado, el poder que los militares habían ostentado hasta el momento sería puesto bajo control de una forma que no había ocurrido en los casi 70 años de la república turca. Por otro, la cuestión kurda se pondría sobre la mesa con el diálogo de por medio, un cambio fundamental tras una guerra de casi 20 años que se había cobrado decenas de miles de vidas. En definitiva, los discursos frente a temas fundamentales en la historia política turca cambiarían radicalmente.

También respecto a la cuestión aleví habría novedades, pues sería el primer gobierno de la historia de Turquía en tomarse en serio oficialmente el problema aleví. Esta postura se vería plasmada en lo que se denominó el “Alevi Opening” (la Apertura Aleví), celebrándose distintos talleres y reuniones  entre los representantes de la comunidad aleví y los miembros del gobierno, llegando a participar el propio Erdogan en una de las celebraciones de ruptura del ayuno aleví. No obstante, las verdaderas intenciones del líder turco pronto saldrían a la luz, comprobándose que la verdadera voluntad del partido AKP era más la asimilación dentro de la mayoría suní que el reconocimiento de los derechos de la minoría. Así, las cemevi siguen siendo consideradas meros centros culturales –a pesar de que el Directorio de Asuntos Religiosos se financia con los impuestos de todos los habitantes de Turquía, alevíes incluidos– y las llamadas de atención que el Tribunal Europeo de Derechos Humanos ha dado a Turquía respecto a esta cuestión –por ejemplo, respecto a la discriminación que sufren los alevíes en las escuelas al ser obligados a aceptar el programa educativo de religión, exclusivamente suní– no han tenido ningún resultado. Asimismo, la identidad religiosa de los alevíes continuaría utilizándose como arma política contra la oposición y las protestas sociales, dándose casos de puros insultos hacia la comunidad.

Por último, la masiva participación de los alevíes en las protestas sociales que estallaron en 2013, las llamadas protestas de Gezi, su posicionamiento junto a los partidos de izquierda y de oposición frente al conservadurismo de Erdogan, así como la perseverancia de la comunidad en seguir reclamando sus derechos y la postura contraria que han manifestado respecto a la postura del gobierno turco en Siria, han acentuado el antagonismo entre los alevíes y el AKP.

En definitiva, la lucha de la comunidad aleví deberá continuar. No obstante, los esfuerzos asimilatorios de un partido AKP cada vez más beligerante contra el disentimiento interno, dispuesto a fomentar fracturas sociales de todo tipo para asegurar su mantenimiento en las estructuras de poder, no parece presentar un panorama optimista a corto plazo para las reivindicaciones de los alevíes.

samedi, 28 mai 2016

Julius Evola ou la mystique du détachement

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Julius Evola ou la mystique du détachement

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À mi-chemin entre le métaphysicien et le samouraï, Julius Evola a élaboré une vision de la politique et de la Tradition qui l’éloigne de la plupart des théoriciens politiques et des tenants du traditionalisme. Son approche repose sur un principe intangible : se détacher du monde tel qu’il est.

À l’âge de vingt-trois ans, alors qu’il est décidé à mettre fin « librement » à ses jours, à la façon des philosophes Otto Weininger et Carlo Michelstaedter, Julius Evola a une illumination en lisant un texte du Majjhima Nikaya : « Celui qui prend l’extinction comme extinction, qui pense l’extinction, qui pense à l’extinction, qui pense ‘L’extinction est mienne’ et se réjouit de l’extinction, celui-là, je le dis, ne connaît pas l’extinction. » Evola comprend que la liberté par laquelle il désire en finir est encore un lien, une ignorance opposée à la vraie liberté. Dès lors, il sent naître en lui une « fermeté capable de résister à toute crise » existentielle et, plus largement, à la crise du monde moderne.

Julius Evola soumettra ainsi ses connaissances et expériences, si diverses, à cette seule discipline : le détachement ferme. Lorsqu’il sera victime d’un bombardement à Vienne, qui lui causera une lésion partielle et une paralysie des membres inférieurs, il ne se sentira pas particulièrement touché par cette incapacité physique, son activité spirituelle et intellectuelle n’en étant en aucune façon compromise. Il manifestera également très tôt une insensibilité, voire une certaine froideur d’âme, envers la manière de vivre de ses contemporains. Son souci de considérer les arts, la philosophie, la politique, le sacré, malgré son détachement intérieur, s’expliquent par ce qu’il appelle son « équation personnelle » : une impulsion, dès sa prime jeunesse, vers la transcendance ; et une disposition de kshatriya, terme hindou désignant un type humain « guerrier », enclin à l’action et à l’affirmation, par opposition au brahmâna, type sacerdotal ou contemplatif. Ces deux tendances détermineront entièrement Evola dans son rapport au monde.

De l’Individu absolu à la Tradition

jev$_35.JPGOn retrouve nettement dans ses écrits l’influence de trois philosophes : Carlo Michelstaedter, sur la question de l’autonomie de l’être (Phénoménologie de l’Individu Absolu) ; Otto Weininger, sur sa lecture de la déviation matriarcale de la spiritualité (Révolte contre le monde moderne) ; et enfin Friedrich Nietzsche, dans sa vision antibourgeoise de l’homme différencié (Chevaucher le tigre).

Si Evola naît dans une famille catholique et bourgeoise, il en rejette rapidement ces deux aspects. Le catholicisme, moral et sentimental, lui semble étranger à une véritable sacralité et une haute ascèse, loin de l’idéal « viril et aristocratique » du bouddhisme aryen. Son mépris de la vie bourgeoise lui fait refuser une chaire universitaire.

En marge de l’existentialisme, Evola développe une phénoménologie complexe de l’Individu absolu. Introduction philosophique à un monde non philosophique, il s’agit d’un retour à l’être transpersonnel, « sous le signe de la liberté réelle et de la puissance ». Selon Evola, la philosophie, qui culmine dans l’idéalisme transcendantal, fait inévitablement banqueroute dans l’idéalisme magique. Son idée consiste donc à penser à un développement qui, sans retomber dans la philosophie, fait franchir un pas, le dernier pas, à la spéculation occidentale. La théorie de l’Individu absolu est une sorte d’existentialisme positif. L’homme n’y est pas brisé par sa situation métaphysique.

Après un intérêt vif pour le tantrisme et le paganisme, Julius Evola découvre l’œuvre de René Guénon. Si son équation personnelle l’éloigne de l’orientation essentiellement intellectuelle de Guénon, il comprend néanmoins l’intérêt d’une critique cartésienne du monde moderne, le monde anormal, et la contre-partie positive de cette critique : le monde normal au sens supérieur, celui de la Tradition. Le monde de la Tradition, dont les différentes traditions particulières pré-modernes sont des émanations, des reflets ou des adaptations, désigne la civilisation organique, hiérarchisée, où toutes les activités humaines sont orientées vers le haut, avec à sa tête une élite qui incarne l’autorité légitime et impersonnelle. Dès lors, Evola cherche non seulement à concilier l’idée de l’Individu absolu, « sans lois, destructeur de tout lien », avec l’idée de Tradition, qui lui semble opposée ; mais aussi à recourir davantage dans son œuvre à l’idée de mythologie, à travers l’origine nordique, hyperboréenne, de la Tradition primordiale.

jev815b580768e60befa324a4.jpgEvola emprunte à Johann Jakob Bachofen sa lecture de la morphologie des civilisations, en rejetant l’aspect évolutionniste, y préférant la thèse involutive de Guénon. Tout au long de l’histoire connue, on a assisté à une altération du monde de la Tradition, avec notamment la dissociation entre autorité spirituelle et pouvoir temporel, inséparables aux origines. La civilisation, à l’origine, est patriarcale, héroïque, solaire, olympienne, virile ; elle se détériore sous les influences altératrices de la civilisation matriarcale, lunaire, tellurique, chtonienne, et aboutit à l’âge sombre, au kali-yuga.

De la révolte à l’apoliteia

Pour Evola, l’idée de Tradition est, surtout au sein du monde moderne, proprement révolutionnaire. S’il a d’abord vu dans le fascisme et le national-socialisme de possibles moyens d’expression des valeurs de la Tradition hyperboréenne, il ne ménage guère ses critiques envers les deux tendances. Dans un ouvrage au titre amusant, Le fascisme vu de droite, il ira même jusqu’à leur reprocher, outre leur nationalisme étriqué et leur racisme biologique, leur culte typiquement plébéien du travail. Après un procès dans lequel on l’accuse d’être le maître à penser de mouvements activistes néo-fascistes, Evola, relaxé, rédige un ouvrage dans lequel il transpose politiquement les idées de la Tradition. Son objectif est de promouvoir la formation d’un rassemblement de Droite authentique (au sens spirituel, pas uniquement politique), par rattachement aux principes contre-révolutionnaires. Cependant, malgré la bonne réception de l’ouvrage au sein de la droite radicale, Evola ne croit plus en la solution politique.

jevTIUL320_SR226,320_.jpgSon ouvrage Chevaucher le tigre est un bilan de ses expériences, et un constat de réalisme ferme : rien ne peut être fait, ni artistiquement, ni religieusement, ni politiquement, pour provoquer un bouleversement positif au sein du monde moderne. Le seul horizon, c’est le chaos. Ce livre s’adresse aux hommes différenciés, ceux qui n’appartiennent pas intérieurement au monde moderne, qui sont de l’autre civilisation. Selon une image extrême-orientale, « si l’on réussit à chevaucher un tigre, on l’empêche de se jeter sur vous et, […] en outre, si l’on ne descend pas, si l’on maintient la prise, il se peut que l’on ait, à la fin, raison de lui. » Evola s’adresse aux « convives de pierre », aux Individus absolus, ceux qui ne peuvent ou ne veulent pas se détacher du monde actuel, et qui sont prêts à y vivre « sous les formes les plus paroxystiques ». Evola y examine, sous formes d’orientations existentielles, les possibilités d’émancipation totale de l’être par la mise en confrontation avec les processus destructeurs du monde moderne.

Mais surtout, on retrouve là, comme magnifiée, la constante du cheminement spirituel et intellectuel de Julius Evola, le détachement, expression parfaite de son équation personnelle : inclination à l’action, détachement affectif. Pour Evola, l’homme différencié doit faire ce qui doit être fait, de façon impersonnelle, sans égard pour la victoire ou la défaite d’une action, sans le souci d’être approuvé ou désapprouvé. Une « action sans désir ». Dans Chevaucher le tigre, Evola recourt au principe d’apoliteia, « l’irrévocable distance intérieure à l’égard de la société moderne et de ses valeurs ». Le refus du « moindre lien spirituel ou moral » avec elle. Avant d’être un penseur de la Tradition et un théoricien politique, Julius Evola est avant tout un apôtre de la mystique du détachement.

dimanche, 22 mai 2016

ULTREÏA ! 07

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ULTREÏA ! 07

Collectif ULTREÏA !

Magazine-livre - Printemps 2016

19,90€

228 pages

Le numéro de printemps s’ouvre sur le portrait d’un éminent “serviteur de la paix”, Lanza del Vasto, dont l’oeuvre prolifique n’est que le reflet d’une vie orientée vers la non-violence, la sobriété et la spiritualité. Un riche parcours qui demeure plus que jamais d’actualité.

Quête d’absolu et somme spirituelle traduite dans le monde entier que l’on retrouve chez le métaphysicien Frithjof Schuon, qui porta l’idée d’ “unité transcendante des religions” et de sagesse pérenne qu’il opposa au nihilisme du monde moderne en une pensée d’une rare acuité.

L’ésotérisme est-il (encore) une voie ? Dans ce dossier, nous avons questionné des auteurs de plusieurs disciplines et religions pour savoir si celui-ci était universel et s’il pouvait être une opportunité pour notre temps. Et être une voie de liberté face à la perspective souvent très légaliste de l’exotérisme, la religion conventionnelle ?

À la croisée des chemins, dans un long et riche entretien, Matthieu Ricard revient sur son parcours singulier, expose sa perspective bouddhiste et partage ses réflexions sur l’altruisme, le bonheur ou la conscience.

Dans un beau portfolio, Tuul – photographe d’origine mongole – et Bruno Morandi nous emmènent dans les steppes de Mongolie à la rencontre des chamanes qu’ils connaissent bien.

À Philae, dans l’extrême sud égyptien, nous goûterons à la magie de l’île d’Isis qui fut sauvée des eaux dans les années 1960. Aux portes de la Nubie, ce territoire dédié au féminin sacré “enchante” véritablement ceux qui le foulent.

Nous mettrons aussi nos pas dans ceux de Nicolas Bouvier, célèbre écrivain-voyageur suisse, qui, pour raconter le monde, tissa un “langage à l’exigence splendide”. Un être rare et jubilant qui accepta que le voyage le fasse… et le défasse.

Christiane Rancé rendra un ultime hommage à René Girard.

Puis nous bivouaquerons à Sheikh Hussein, au cœur même du pèlerinage extatique et universaliste de l’Aréfa, en Éthiopie, en Bolivie, dans les pas de Charles de Foucault. Enfin, Florian Rochet nous invitera à être des « nomades contemplatifs « .

Pour en découvrir plus (interview, vidéos, sommaire détaillé…) : www.revue-ultreia.com

Feuilleter et découvrir quelques pages du n°07 

Format : 21cm x 27cm

ISBN :978-2-37241-022-9

samedi, 21 mai 2016

La Tradición Romana: Julius Evola y Guido De Giorgio

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La Tradición Romana: Julius Evola y Guido De Giorgio

Ex: http://www.hiperbolajanus.com

Durante la década que comprende los años 1924 a 1934 hubo en Italia un desarrollo importante de las corrientes tradicionalistas, con la emergencia de representantes de gran valía dentro de las mismas, como bien pudieran ser Julius Evola, Arturo Reghini o Guido De Giorgio, junto con otras figuras de menor importancia que colaboraron activamente con publicaciones e iniciativas culturales de diversa impronta. El cometido de este artículo no es más que sondear aspectos generales de esta época, la cual fue especialmente fecunda dentro del Tradicionalismo, y que eclosionó, especialmente en los casos de Evola y De Giorgio, a la sombra de René Guénon, que pese a que siempre renunció a la posibilidad de tener a discípulos y continuadores de su doctrina siempre fue algo que rechazó de forma expresa. En el caso de Reghini es evidente que sus motivaciones y los referentes intelectuales de su obra tenían su origen en el siglo XIX, en la masonería y  las ideas ligadas al Risorgimento italiano. Por otro lado, podemos hablar de «Tradicionalismo Romano» en la medida que existía un ambiente intelectual y una serie de cenáculos y lugares de referencia en los que se veía renacer la función Tradicional de Roma vinculada a una guía o dirección de nuestro siglo.

tradizione-romana.jpgDurante estos años, y bajo el influjo permanente de los escritos de René Guénon surge, primero como un artículo de la revista Atanor, en 1924, y posteriormente como libro, concretamente en 1927, El rey del mundo. Un año después, en 1928, tendría lugar la publicación de otra obra de vital trascendencia; Imperialismo pagano, de Julius Evola, quienes representaban ya en aquella época dos mentalidades y formas de interpretar el mensaje de la Tradición desde polos más o menos diametrales, aunque con un punto de confluencia donde, finalmente, habrían de congeniar. Mientras Guénon trataba de encontrar aquellos centros espirituales y supremos, con sus respectivos puntos de referencia al margen de todas las vicisitudes temporales, Evola reclama una idea de Tradición estrechamente vinculada a la historia italiana y sus devenires temporales. De todos modos, la obra de Guenon permanece como imprescindible en la medida que hace referencia a los Principios últimos, muy necesarios en su comprensión, y que no pertenecen al ámbito de lo contingente en sus aplicaciones. El libro de Evola, mucho más relacionado con ese ámbito de la contingencia se presenta con una función y un cometido claro y contundente: afirmar, merced a la sapiencia itálica y pagana, la irrenunciable función imperial de la Roma precristiana, la cual tratará de hacer confluir con los intereses mismos de la «Revolución Fascista» y además persigue, con igual tenacidad, la resurrección de la esencia misma de la Romanidad, en sus términos clásicos e imperiales, con la intención de regenerar espiritualmente a la Italia de su tiempo, aquella que estaba bajo el mandato de Benito Mussolini.

Durante estos años, entre mediados de los veinte y casi la mitad de los treinta, Evola se encuentra a la expectativa respecto al cometido del fascismo, a sus posibilidades reales como representante cualificado de las ideas Imperiales y Tradicionalistas, frente a la Europa de las democracias liberales, que asumiendo la terminología gibelina del Medievo, califica como representantes de la ideología guelfa. En este sentido Evola se ve como un intérprete del fascismo pero desde fuera, sin pertenecer oficialmente, y en sentido estricto, a la jerarquía misma del régimen. Para el pensador romano el fascismo debía erigirse como líder hegemónico e incontestable de la Tradición mediterránea, como generador de un Principio aristocrático capaz de revivir la naturaleza iniciática y realizadora de antiguas corrientes sapienciales. Solamente de esta manera sería posible volver a forjar una Europa con referentes cualificados y válidos y, en definitiva, con una élite intelectual en el sentido Tradicional del término. Se trata del concepto de Imperium como fundamento Trascendente, que el fascismo mussoliniano debía asumir.

Como hemos comentado la anti-Europa, aquella que representa valores descendentes y de subversión es la que viene determinada por el güelfismo, y que, como en el contexto del conflicto de las investiduras, nos remite al papel de la Iglesia. El Cristianismo como tal es considerado como el comienzo del fin del Imperio Romano, un factor clave en la decadencia y destrucción de éste a nivel material y de estructuras así como a nivel de símbolos y aquellos elementos que estaban en conexión con lo Trascendente. Además cuando Evola nos habla del cristianismo en Imperialismo Pagano hay que entender que no nos habla solamente de una cuestión propiamente doctrinal, sino que establece una conexión directa entre el cristianismo histórico y todos los procesos disolutivos que desde la Reforma Protestante a la Revolución Francesa, pasando por el desarrollo del anarquismo y el bolchevismo, y el modelo de sociedad anglosajona han conducido, de forma inexorable, a la edad moderna como tal. Frente a todos estos procesos destructivos existe lo que Evola concibe como la Tradición Mediterránea y una cadena ininterrumpida de Misterios y secretos que se han ido transmitiendo en el devenir de los siglos que preceden al advenimiento del cristianismo. Evola no dudo un momento en reclamar al fascismo la restauración de la Italia pagana e imperial, así como la renuncia hacia toda suerte de tradición cristiana y católica, la cual es considerada por el pensador romano como totalmente desprovista de elementos tradicionales. Esta misma idea la mantendrá viva durante largo tiempo. De hecho, en Revuelta contra el mundo moderno sitúa el síncope de la Tradición europea occidental en el ascenso del cristianismo. Incluso durante los años de la constitución del Grupo de Ur, en los que Evola apuesta por la magia, se sigue manteniendo la idea de la existencia de un centro sagrado e iniciático, vinculado a la Tradición Romana, que podría mantenerse vivo hasta nuestros días. De igual manera encontramos en la figura de Guido De Giorgio ideas muy similares, y éste creía en la existencia de un centro oculto e inaccesible consagrado al culto de Vesta.

perennitas1.jpgEvola mantiene un discurso constante en el que asocia todas las formas de decadencia europea actuales, en lo que se refiere a mentalidades, estructuras sociales, en la filosofía y la ciencia positiva así como en las supersticiones de nuestro tiempo, que relaciona de forma indefectible con el cristianismo. En este sentido Evola hace una acusación directa al Cristianismo, y habla de éste como portador de una forma de «ascesis bolchevique», y más concretamente bajo lo que está en el origen del cristianismo, como es el concepto de ecclesia, entendida como una mística de la comunidad que subvierte todo el conjunto de valores jerárquicos e imperiales del mundo antiguo greco-romano. De ahí que el fascismo tuviese entre sus más importantes funciones destruir el cristianismo y apostar por una restauración pagana para salvar a Italia y a Europa de la hecatombe final. Evola busca claramente la confrontación llevada al extremo de un principio gibelino e imperial frente a otro güelfo y vaticano, es en este enfrentamiento donde se debe dirimir el destino de Europa, o bien hacia su renacimiento y cima o hacia su destrucción y ocaso. No obstante, es esencial aclarar también que al hablar de Imperio Evola no se remite a la concepción moderna del término, no habla de las categorías profanas y materiales del imperio, de la forma en la que modernamente se ha concebido tal término, al cual es totalmente opuesto en su formulación burguesa e industrial, y que nada tiene que ver con las modernas formas de colonialismo promocionadas por el capitalismo en sus estadios más desarrollados. Es evidente que los pactos lateranenses de 1929 fueron contrarios a las expectativas que se había generado el propio Evola, y que el fascismo decidió apostar por la vía güelfa de la anti-Europa de la que el propio autor romano había hablado en Imperialismo pagano. En este sentido los reproches del pensador romano hacia el fascismo estaban encaminados a denunciar que éste no poseía una espiritualidad y cultura propia. La idea de Imperio universal y gibelino implica ante todo la asunción de un principio de autoridad del Estado sobre la Iglesia, pero no desde una perspectiva anti-clerical o anti-espiritual, tal y como ocurre a día de hoy, sino desde la comprensión profunda del cristianismo a nivel doctrinal, entendida en su dimensión exotérica y popular, como una forma de «realidad espiritual» tolerada y adaptada a determinados estratos sociales, pero en ningún caso depositaria de las formas trascendentes y metapolíticas que sí representa la Tradición Mediterránea. Esta idea es tomada directamente de Guénon en el aspecto de entender la Tradición como una realidad unitaria de base netamente metafísica y sapiencial, estableciendo a su vez la idea de la existencia de distintos niveles y estadios jerárquicos en su realización, generando así una pluralidad de formas de realización espiritual. La postura de otros tradicionalistas romanos, como es el caso de Arturo Reghini, es totalmente concordante con aquella de Evola, al presentar la Tradición como una realidad inmutable, aunque en su caso la Tradición Mediterránea está en conexión directa con las enseñanzas pitagóricas. Pese a todo Reghini es, evidentemente, mucho más heterodoxo que Evola o De Giorgio, especialmente en la medida que concibe como parte de la Tradición ideas, movimientos y personajes que forman parte del marco histórico y temporal incluyendo a católicos, liberales, socialistas y hombres de poder que van desde Maquiavelo, Napoleón o Garibaldi o corrientes laicistas y anticlericales, que lo ubican en un espacio y realidad completamente antitético respecto a los grandes autores de la Tradición Perenne.

giorgioWcMro4lYVvPUfzOrF0.jpgEl otro gran representante de la Tradición Romana es Guido De Giorgio, el principal discípulo del pensamiento de René Guénon en Italia, un hombre oscuro, tanto en su trayectoria vital como en aquella intelectual, de una moral espartana, y definido por el propio Evola como un «iniciado en estado salvaje». Su principal obra, La Tradición Romana, fue publicada póstumamente, en el año 1973, y todavía a día de hoy existen obras inéditas del autor, que no han visto la luz todavía. Las premisas del pensamiento de Giorgio, como ocurre con Guénon, parten de un punto de vista absoluto, metafísico, sacro y Tradicional. No obstante su visión de la Tradición como tal cuenta con la confluencia de muy variadas influencias, entre las cuales podemos encontrar a los neoplatónicos, cristianos, hinduistas y musulmanes. A las citadas fuentes que nutren su pensamiento podemos añadir una peculiar forma de escribir, muchas veces teñida de una cierta iluminación, de una intuición muy sutil, y lo enigmáticos que resultan muchos de los pasajes de su obra. Un ejemplo de esta confluencia de ideas y doctrinas la vemos en sus consideraciones, de matiz claramente cristiano, en las que habla de la fe como la base de la Tradición por excelencia, al tiempo que contempla la concepción no dualista del Principio Supremo en lo que es un concepto de impronta hinduista. Sin embargo, la perspectiva islámica es la que toma mayor protagonismo en el conjunto de sus ideas, y es precisamente en base a esta visión de lo Absoluto a través del filtro de la doctrina islámica, la forma en la que De Giorgio comienza a edificar su Tradicionalismo Romano. Lo más llamativo de todo es que Guido De Giorgio jamás se convirtió al Islam, pero sin embargo, hay ideas relacionadas con éste, que son recurrentes en sus escritos. La idea fundamental que vertebra a través de las doctrinas esotéricas islámicas es aquella de la inefabilidad del Principio Supremo, la idea de la unicidad en el principio de la Creación y la ruptura de ese Principio a través de la acción del pecado, que actuando a través del hombre, rompe esa armonía. El mundo es Dios porque Él contiene al mundo en sí, y al mismo tiempo si el hombre se mantiene como tal se mantendrá asimismo ese principio de dualismo en el mundo. Se trata de una idea de clara inspiración sufí. En el límite de lo inefable se encuentran los defensores de lo Inaccesible, los santos de Dios que son los maestros y guías de la Realidad Suprema. De modo que es ese Principio de Unicidad el que resuelve cualquiera de las cuestiones doctrinales y metafísicas que puedan derivarse de otras fuentes como el cristianismo o el hinduismo.

De todos modos, lo fundamental es conocer cómo concibe De Giorgio la vuelta de Occidente al ámbito de la Tradición, y en este sentido, pese a las influencias del islamismo sufí, De Giorgio piensa en la vuelta a una Tradición propiamente romana y cristiana, al margen de otro tipo de influencias ajenas a su desarrollo histórico. A diferencia del anti-cristianismo de Evola, en el caso de De Giorgio hay un puente y una vía de entendimiento que reconcilia a la religión romana con el cristianismo en el contexto de una Roma que tiene una función metafísica y Trascendental de primer orden. En este contexto hay una serie de elementos simbólicos que nutren la citada función de la ciudad eterna, y es el caso del símbolo del Jano, que se completa en un contexto más amplio, con aquel simbolismo universal de la cruz del que nos habló Guénon en su momento. Por otro lado, Dante Alghieri representa la expresión más elevada y genuina de la Tradición Romana, quién representa a ojos de De Giorgio el aglutinador de las dos tradiciones de Roma; la pagana y la cristiana. Roma representa para nuestro pensador la función de centro mediador entre Occidente y Oriente, de equilibrio entre la vida contemplativa y aquella activa. Roma permite, a través de Eneas y Cristo, la realización de un principio de universalidad que la convierte en el faro de Occidente, y mientras Roma viva también vivirá la Tradición en Occidente. Pese a que De Giorgio coincide con Guenon al considerar la existencia de una Tradición Primordial, unitaria y sagrada en los comienzos, de la cual las restantes no son sino derivadas, considerada fundamental la función sagrada de Roma a través de sus símbolos, los cuales va desgranando en su obra cumbre La Tradición Romana y de la cual hablaremos en próximas entradas.

En conclusión el horizonte intelectual y las reflexiones acerca de la Tradición en la Roma del periodo de entreguerras nos ofrece un panorama rico y variado en cuanto a la producción de obras, ideas y doctrinas. Hoy hemos repasado algunos aspectos fundamentales de las obras de Evola y De Giorgio, teniendo siempre presente la enorme influencia que René Guénon tuvo en su momento, y sigue teniendo a día de hoy, sobre cualquier reflexión intelectual y metafísica sobre la Tradición Perenne.

vendredi, 20 mai 2016

The Value of Truth & the Virtue of Honesty

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The Value of Truth & the Virtue of Honesty

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

“Even apart from the value of such claims as ‘there is a categorical imperative in us,’ one can still always ask: what does such a claim tell us about the man who makes it?” — Nietzsche (Beyond Good and Evil, Section 187)

warch.jpgI have been reflecting of late on the concept of truth, both as a philosophical concept and as a value. Growing up, I always took the notion of truth completely for granted. “Tell the truth,” I was taught from an early age. “Don’t lie – not to your parents, your elders, and above all not to God.” Truth and falsehood was a primary duality, like light and darkness, good and evil.

As I got older, I started to question some of the things I had been taught as a child. First, God. Was there really an all-powerful puppet-master in the sky, watching everything I did, said, and thought, and also controlling everything that happens in the world? I went through my adolescent rebellion against religion, which in the Western world is often caused in part by the incongruities between the Bible – especially the Old Testament – and the innate Indo-European sensibility.

In the course of being an angry young atheist, I lost God and found Nietzsche. At first I was just attracted to the sheer power of his writing, his philosophizing with a hammer. But later, I started to actually develop some understanding of his ideas. In his transvaluation of values, Nietzsche rejected not merely the god of the Bible – something most intelligent teenagers learn to do – but most of the metaphysical underpinnings of the entire Western worldview as I knew it, including the very concept of truth itself.

In spite of my admiration for Nietzsche, I never quite bought his rejection of truth and his embrace of Hassan i Sabbah’s “Nothing is true, everything is permitted.” It wasn’t that I had thought it through and developed a coherent philosophical counter-position; it was just an instinct. The argument against truth itself always seemed to me an absurdity, because to even assert that “There is no truth” is to say, implicitly, “The truth is that there is no truth.”

The Classical Value of Truth

Herodotus tells us that the ancient Persians taught their children but three things: to ride a horse, to shoot the bow-and-arrow, and to tell the truth. Among the Greeks, aletheia was a prominent or even dominant concept and goal in philosophy, especially for Plato. This carried over directly into the New Testament – which I regard as primarily an Indo-European document, in spite of the abundant Judaic themes and references, both because it is written in Greek and because the figure of Jesus Christ, in his essential characteristics and certainly in the esoteric traditions of European Christianity, has deeper roots in Indo-European solar mythology than in Jewish tradition.

In the Jewish Ten Commandments, Yahweh tells the Hebrews that they should not bear false witness in court. But Christianity re-interpreted this as a prohibition against all lying. This is because in Christianity, which for better and for worse was the religion of Europe for over a thousand years, truth is actually equated with God.

Christians often point out that Jesus is unique among religious figures and prophets because, while many men throughout history have claimed to know the truth, Jesus alone said, “I am the truth, the way, and the life.” Thus the worship of truth becomes a legitimate form of worship of God, just as with beauty and goodness. As Hans F. K. Günther notes in his Religious Attitudes of the Indo-Europeans, the Good-and-Beautiful – kaloskagathos in Greek – is an ancient Indo-European concept that pre-dates Christianity, but which was incorporated into Christian theology and to which was added the value of truth, thus becoming a trinity and a kind of analogue to the trinitarian God.

Our high valuation of truth is also related to a high valuation of loyalty. In the motto of the German SS – Mein Ehre heisst Treue, “My honor is loyalty” – the German treue is cognate with the English true, and we can see the relation in the dual meaning of true as both “not false” and “loyal,” as in “true to his people.” This loyalty also finds expression as fidelity in marriage, which is uniquely valued by Indo-Europeans, in contrast to the polygamous practices of many other cultures. For us, all of these values – truth, loyalty, faithfulness – are related, and come from the same source, like Platonic Ideals that all emanate from the Good.

Honesty

hfkg.jpgGünther, in the same book, also notes that honor and honesty may share a common root, if not etymologically, then at least morally, for it is difficult to imagine an honorable man being fundamentally dishonest. The virtue of honesty is a corollary of the value of truth, and the history of Indo-European moral and ethical philosophy demonstrates a tradition of high regard for this virtue.

The most extreme example of this is probably the philosophy of Immanuel Kant, who famously argued that if a murderer knocked at your door looking for someone whom you knew to be hiding nearby, you should not lie to the murderer. While Kant’s moral philosophy strikes most people, even fellow Indo-Europeans, as absurd, it clearly shows the degree to which we have taken seriously the moral imperative of truthfulness. It also illustrates how some of our values can be both a strength and a weakness, depending on the situation we find ourselves in.

Years ago, a female acquaintance of mine became enamored with a book called Radical Honesty by Brad Blanton, a therapist who describes himself as “white trash with a PhD.” Though I haven’t read the book, it seems to advocate a kind of Kantian extremism in truth-telling – to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, always at all times, no matter what. Or at least, that is how this woman interpreted it. She managed to convince some of her friends to read the book and attempt to practice “radical honesty” with her in their relations, and they were doing so when I knew them. It was a well-intentioned enterprise that was supposed to strengthen their bonds of affection and trust, though I thought they wasted an awful lot of time expressing feelings and opinions that were fleeting, unimportant, and which need not be dwelt upon, or even expressed at all.

Of course, this woman and her two friends were white, and also a bit on the hippy side. What they were attempting to do is, on the one hand, rather laughable – the sort of thing that a non-white comedian might use as material for jokes about “those wacky white people.” But on the other hand, it’s entirely consistent with our tradition of valuing truth and honesty. It’s part of the reason why, as Greg Johnson noted, “Western civilizations, white civilizations, tend to be high trust societies, whereas non-Western civilizations tend to be low trust societies.” [2]

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While trust and truth apparently do not derive from the same etymological root, they most certainly share a common moral root, like honor and honesty. We trust our neighbors and kinsmen because we expect them to be honest and honorable with us, and us with them. This level of trust and honesty is difficult to maintain even in a small homogeneous group, as my hippy friends learned through experience. In a larger, heterogeneous group, it is considerably more difficult – some would say virtually impossible.

The West and the Rest

In reflecting on the concept of truth and its role as a value of Indo-European civilizations, I have come to believe that it is not, in fact, a universal value. While it is not unique to IE peoples as a concept, what is unique is the high value that we place on it. One of the mistakes that people often make is to assume that all human beings think the same way they do.

In his book about China, The Hundred-Year Marathon, Michael Pillsbury writes:

At first, it seemed impossible to me that any thinking person in China would believe that American presidents from John Tyler to Barack Obama had all somehow learned the statecraft axioms of the Warring States period and decided to apply these little-known concepts to control China. But then I realized that many in China think of these axioms as universal truths. They know America is the most powerful nation in the world, and they assume America will act as selfishly, cynically, and ruthlessly as did every hegemon in the era of the Warring States.

In contrast to these Chinese leaders who believe that Americans are as sly and sneaky as themselves, there are the American and European liberals, who believe that inside each Chinese, Arab, and African is a good little white man who is just waiting for the right dose of democracy, feminism and capitalism to bring out his full potential so he can become just like us, only darker. Indeed, some Leftist critics of Western imperialism and colonialism have addressed this ignorant and false assumption.

The tendency to assume equivalence of perspective and intention amongst peoples is perhaps universal, or at least is not limited to White peoples. But whereas the Chinese assumption of American duplicity may lead them to reject sincere gestures for want of trust (though more often than not, it’s probably just the smart position for the Chinese to take, given who runs American foreign policy), the Western assumption of universal goodwill leads to gullible and foolish policies like mass immigration, and all its concomitant problems like rising crime and social upheaval.

The Death of Truth and the Decline of the West

The high regard for truth in the Indo-European tradition is directly related to Europe’s subsequent development of science. What we call science – from the Latin word for “knowledge” – is in fact largely the accumulated knowledge of Europeans about the natural world. It is universal in its application, but not in its origin.

But this same love of truth, which motivated the Pre-Socratics in their primary investigations of phenomena, and Socrates in his endless questioning, and which reached its apotheosis in Christian doctrine, eventually became its own undoing. As scientific knowledge developed, truth ultimately came to be seen as being in conflict with religion. The Christian worship of truth as God and God as truth, incarnated as Jesus Christ, gave way to the terrible realization that truth did not, in fact, accord with Christian teachings on the nature of the world. For Nietzsche, this progression was a laughable irony – “Christianity ate itself, ha ha ha!” But he was being glib. Western man has not even begun to recover from this catastrophe. After the collapse of European Christianity in the 18th and 19th centuries, it was only a short time before even the notion of truth itself was then questioned and dismissed, firstly and most famously by Nietzsche himself. For a people with such a unique love of truth, there may well be no recovering from such a fundamental loss.

Much discourse on the Right concerns being honest about uncomfortable truths, such as racial and gender differences, or the friend-enemy distinction at the root of politics. I believe that, at its best, this is a further expression of the Indo-European spirit’s love of truth. But because the contemporary West lacks a comprehensive philosophical and spiritual framework, these little truths lack any connection to notions of higher, permanent, transcendent Truth. Unless and until the West can establish, or reestablish, that connection, it’s difficult to imagine that we will find the strength of belief that is necessary in order to survive. One begins to realize why Heidegger’s final conclusion was, “Only a god can save us.”

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

URL to article: http://www.counter-currents.com/2016/05/the-value-of-truth-the-virtue-of-honesty/

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Ein germanophiler Traditionalist

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Ein germanophiler Traditionalist

von Carlos Wefers Verástegui

Ex: http://www.blauenarzisse.de

Der spanische Journalist, Politiker und Redner Juan Vázquez de Mella y Fanjul (18611928) war einer der bedeutendsten katholischen Apologetiker des ausgehenden 19. Jahrhunderts.

Vor allem ihm ist es zu verdanken, dass die bis dahin verstreut, neben– und sogar gegeneinander existierenden legitimistischen, klerikalen und antiliberalen Strömungen im „Traditionalismus“ ein gedanklich durchgebildetes, einheitliches System erhielten. Politisch immer noch interessant sind Mellas gewagte Gegenwartsdiagnosen und Prognosen.

Katholische Zivilisation als Gegenentwurf zur Moderne

Mella war kein Soziologe oder Geschichtsphilosoph von Fach. Trotzdem hat er bedeutende Lehrstücke zu beiden Disziplinen geliefert. Seine eigentliche Spezialität war die politische Theologie: Innerhalb eines spezifisch christlichen Geschichtsbildes als analytischem Rahmen vollzieht sich die systematische Kulturkritik der Moderne, der konsequent die „katholische Zivilisation“ entgegen gestellt wird.

Die Moderne wird dabei dialektisch auseinandergesetzt und destruiert. Die politisch-​theologische Methode ermöglicht die Vorauskonstruktion kommender Ereignisse. Eines ihrer Mittel ist die „ideologische Ableitung“. Das ist die Ableitung des Geschichtsverlaufs aus den in der Geschichte wirksamen Ideen, den richtigen wie den irrigen. Der Darstellung der sich aus diesen Ideen ergebenden notwendigen Konsequenzen liegt bei Mella eine in sich schlüssige Geschichtslogik zugrunde: Ist erstmal der Weg in die entsprechende Richtung eingeschlagen, nehmen die Ereignisse mit äußerster Folgerichtigkeit ihren Lauf. Die Freiheit besteht für den Menschen darin, nun diesen ersten Schritt zu tun, zwischen Wahrheit und Irrtum zu wählen, zu irren oder richtig zu liegen.

Wahr oder falsch

Genauso, wie die ganze irrende Menschheit, sind auch ihre Führer mit Blindheit geschlagen und wissen nicht, was sie tun. Der dogmatische und, mit ihm, politische und auch soziale Irrtum, ist die Wurzel allen geschichtlichen Übels. Diese radikale Gegenüberstellung von Wahrheit und Irrtum, richtig oder falsch bei Mella, lässt keine Vermittlung, also keine der heute so beliebten Grauschattierungen, zu: Sie zwingt jeden zu einer klaren Stellungnahme in der Wirklichkeit.

Für Mella stand die soziopolitische Wirklichkeit seit den Tagen der Französischen Revolution permanent unter Spannung. Diese kann sich nur in Konflikten entladen und führt, aller Vorsicht und selbst gegenteiliger Bemühungen zum Trotz, zur Katastrophe. Mellas Reden und Artikel der ersten Jahrzehnte des zwanzigsten Jahrhunderts beinhalten daher unzählige treffende Voraussagen des Spanischen Bürgerkriegs (19361939). Gerade weil Mella seine Gegenwart realistisch, d.h. illusionslos, betrachtete, konnte er die Entwicklung vorwegnehmen.

Mellas Werdegang vom Liberalismus zum Karlismus

Mella war Traditionalist aus Überzeugung: nicht eine etwaige Familientradition, sondern Ideen waren es, die ihn zum Traditionalismus geführt hatten. Geboren im nordspanischen Asturien als Sohn eines Offiziers und liberalen Demagogen sowie einer strenggläubigen Katholikin stand Mella zunächst unter dem Einfluss der väterlichen liberalen Anschauungen. Früh bemerkte der Vater das Redetalent seines Sohnes: Er übte den kaum Zehnjährigen darin, in der Öffentlichkeit liberale Standreden zu halten. Nach dem Tod des Vaters zogen Mutter und Kind zu Verwandten in das benachbarte Galicien.

Dort kam es auch zur ersten Kontaktaufnahme Mellas mit dem spanischen Legitimismus und Royalismus, dem Karlismus. In der galicischen Hauptstadt Santiago de Compostela war die Kirche, trotz der siegreichen liberalen Revolution, noch immer die stärkste Macht und karlistisch eingestellt. Auch waren in Galicien die Anhänger des legitimistischen Thronanwärters Don Carlos von Bourbon („Karl V.“), die Karlisten, sehr zahlreich. Die traditionalistischen Einflüsse, die vom Karlismus ausgingen, haben Mella die Richtung gegeben.

Die Wende zum Karlismus vollzog sich während seines Jurastudiums in Santiago de Compostela. Mella war kein guter Student. Die trockene Materie missfiel ihm sehr, so dass er die geringste Zeit und Kraft aufwendete, um die Examina zu bestehen, mehr nicht. Mella nutzte seine Zeit lieber zum Selbststudium der Philosophie, Theologie, Geschichte und Literatur. Dadurch erlangte er eine universelle Bildung. In Theologie und Philosophie brachte er es sogar zu einem echten Fachwissen.

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Parlamentarier wider Willen

Wie ein Schwamm nahm er die Lehren und Prinzipien der spanischen Konterrevolution in sich auf, vor allem Donoso Cortés. Weitere Anregungen empfing er vom spanischen Traditionalisten und Literaturkritiker Marcelino Menéndez Pelayo. Aufgrund seiner universellen Bildung und seiner Redebegabung wurden, trotz der mäßigen Noten, seine Lehrer auf ihn aufmerksam: dank ihrer Förderung und mit kirchlicher Unterstützung konnte Mella Artikel und Kritiken in verschiedenen traditionalistischen Medien veröffentlichen.

Dabei bestach Mella durch seinen Rednerstil sowie seine scharfe Dialektik. Mellas Beredsamkeit drang bis zur karlistischen Führung durch: der Marquis von Cerralbo nahm sich seiner an, so dass er von nun an als Chefpropagandist der Sache Don Carlos („Karl VII.“) diente. 1891 stellten die Karlisten Mella als ihren Kandidaten für den Wahlbezirk Valls in Katalonien auf. 1892 schaffte es Mella in das Parlament, diesmal als Abgeordneter von Aoiz, im ehemaligen Königreich Navarra.

Von 1892 bis 1919 – mit einer Unterbrechung von 1900 bis 1905 – war Mella karlistischer bzw. traditionalistischer Parlamentarier, sehr zu seinem Unwillen. Er war geschworener Feind des Liberalismus, den er in seinem eigenen Heiligtum, dem Parlament, aufs heftigste bekämpfte. Mella war für keine Zusammenarbeit zu haben, was ihm Kritik und Missmut von liberal-​konservativer Seite zuzog. Die gemäßigten, katholischen und christlichen Liberalen, die „vermittelnden Parteien“, lehnte er genauso ab, wie die radikalen und antiklerikalen Liberalen.

Mella im Exil

Von 1900 bis 1905 befand sich Mella, halb freiwillig, im Exil: als Chefpropagandist wurde er für den Aufstand katalanischer Karlisten verantwortlich gemacht und polizeilich gesucht. Zuerst floh Mella nach Portugal, danach lebte er zurückgezogen in seiner galicischen Heimat. Nach dem Ersten Weltkrieg trennte sich Mella vom legitimistischen Thronanwärter Don Jaime (Jakob III.). Mit der ganzen spanischen Öffentlichkeit hatte der Weltkrieg auch die Karlisten in die beiden Lager der „aliadófilos“ – d.h. die Anhänger Frankreichs und Englands – und „germanófilos“ – die Befürworter Deutschlands und Österreich-​Ungarns – gespalten.

Mit fast der gesamten karlistischen Führungsriege war Mella „germanófilo“, im Gegensatz zum Thronanwärter, der Frankreich und England bevorzugte. Dieser setzte die gesamte deutschenfreundliche Führung ab, was zur Abspaltung der sogenannten „Mellisten“ vom Karlismus führte.

Keine Reaktion, sondern Wiederanknüpfen an die Tradition

Trotz seiner politischen Heimat im Legitimismus steht Mella in der viel großartigeren Tradition der christlichen Staatsphilosophie. In einzigartiger Weise nahm er die Lehren der Schule von Salamanca, namentlich Francisco de Vitoria und Francisco Suárez, in sich auf. Diese verarbeitete er auf originelle Weise, indem er sie in Verbindung mit den Thesen des Reaktionärs Donoso Cortés brachte. Mellas Traditionalismus ist kein bloßer Gegenentwurf zur Praxis und Theorie des Liberalismus. Er ist keine „Gegennachahmung“, keine bloß konterrevolutionäre Chiffre für „Absolutismus und Reaktion“: er bezeichnet vielmehr das bewusste Wiederaufsuchen und Anknüpfen an eine nationalspanische Tradition politischen Denkens.

Diese war über den Absolutismus des 17. und 18. Jahrhunderts verloren gegangen. Im 19. Jahrhundert war sie den Legitimisten, die eigentlich die Verteidiger der Tradition sein sollten, verdächtig geworden: die Liberalen hatten sich ihrer bemächtigt und dreist für liberalen Konstitutionalismus ausgegeben. In dieser missbräuchlichen Form benutzten sie sie in ihrem Kampf gegen das absolutistische Ancien Régime, nur um ihren eigenen Absolutismus zu befördern.

Mellas „Traditionalismus“ ist ein dreifacher: „Traditionalismus“ im strengen Wortsinn, als organisches Anknüpfen und Fortbilden des bereits positiv Überlieferten bzw. dessen Wiederherstellung. An diesen schließen sich ein christlich-​naturrechtlicher Traditionalismus sowie ein soziologischer Traditionalismus an, die beide aristotelisch-​thomistischer (scholastischer) Provenienz sind. Bei Mella bleibt es aber nicht bei abstrakten Ordnungsprinzipien rein normativer Art, wie sonst in der Scholastik üblich. Diese Prinzipien müssen auch menschlich, geschichtlich sowie gesellschaftlich wirklich sein.

In diesem Sinne genießt die Tradition als die Zeiten übergreifende Verwirklichung des Volksganzen und universeller Konsens einen Vorzug gegenüber der vom zeitlosen hierarchischen Prinzip dargestellten Ordnung. Auch gegenüber dem Willen der jeweiligen Gegenwart ist das Recht der sich darstellenden Ganzheit grundsätzlich höher anzuschlagen: die gegebene und gebotene Naturnotwendigkeit, die die Menschen veranlasst, sich zwecks Bildung des geselligen Zustands zusammenzuschließen, besitzt einen höheren Stellenwert, als Willkür und Belieben des Individuums. Das schließt jede numerische Willensbildung (Demokratie) wie auch jeden deliberativen Prozess der Willensfindung (Liberalismus) als Quellen der Legitimität aus.

Permanenz und Fortschritt

Aus dem Traditionalismus erklärt sich Mellas Streiten für Permanenz: nur da, wo sich geschichtlich etwas bewährt hat und fortbesteht, kann es auch Fortdauer, Stetigkeit und Ständigkeit geben. Die Prämisse jeden echten Fortschritts ist deshalb Entwicklung aus der Tradition. Die Tradition, die selbst in der Entwicklung steht, bezeichnet das Wesen dieses echten Fortschritts: Anknüpfen und Weiterspinnen des geschichtlichen Fadens auf dem Grunde der Permanenz.

Die „Tradition“ Mellas ist, soziologisch gesprochen, die gesellschaftliche Dynamik, die die gesellschaftliche Statik – die in den gesellschaftlichen und politischen Einrichtungen verwirklichten göttlichen Schemata und natürlichen Ordnungsprinzipien – umflutet, nährt und zur Entfaltung bringt. Dass Mellas „Traditionalismus“ von daher kein bloßer monarchischer Absolutismus ist, wird aus der Begründung der Gesellschaft klar, die Mella von Francisco Suárez nimmt: Gegenüber dem Staat ist die ganze Gesellschaft ursprünglich. „Gesellschaft“ begreift Mella nicht liberal-​individualistisch atomistisch, sondern als gegliedertes und in sich selbst hierarchisch abgestuftes Volksganzes. Die Gesellschaft ist „organisch-​demokratisch“, d.h. in ihr ist das Volk als Ganzes ursprünglich.

Von daher steht es auch selbstbestimmt und souverän den politischen Gewalten des Staates gegenüber. Dieser ist als Rechtsbewahrer mit schiedsrichterlichen und organisatorischen Aufgaben betraut. Er hat nur da unterstützend oder stellvertretend einzugreifen, wo die Tätigkeit der gesellschaftlichen Verbände und Klassen von allein nicht ausreicht oder ein Streit zu schlichten ist (Subsidiaritätsprinzip). Zu den arteigenen Aufgaben des Staates gehören die Verteidigung nach innen und außen, sowie die Oberleitung des Ganzen im Sinne des Gemeinwohls.

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Ablehnung des Parlamentarismus

In der Gesellschaft und durch die Gesellschaft soll der Mensch als Angehöriger seiner jeweiligen Gemeinschaften sowie nach Maßgabe seiner natürlichen Fähigkeiten und Eigenschaften sich möglichst frei entfalten und vervollkommnen. Im Gegensatz zur individualistischen Demokratie des Liberalismus ist das in der Gesellschaft begriffene Volk nicht aus sich selbst heraus souverän.

Mellas Auseinandersetzung mit dem liberalen Parlamentarismus, seinen Widersprüchen, Halbheiten und Wirrnissen, steht in nichts der seines Zeitgenossen Georges Sorel nach. Ganze Passagen seiner Reden und Artikel erinnern stark an die Gewaltmaximen des französischen revolutionären Syndikalisten, z.B. wenn Mella bekennt, dass er die in ihrer Gewalttätigkeit absurde Konsequenz der streikenden Arbeiter den Schwankungen der Parlamentarier („diesen dekadenten Byzantinern“) gegenüber bevorzuge.

Mella lehnte überhaupt den Parlamentarismus ab, weil dieser systematisch die Verantwortung weiterschöbe und auf andere abwälzte, bis von ihr nichts als die Verhöhnung des „unglücklichen Stimmviehs“ übrig bliebe. Er versprach sich zudem nichts von Kompromissen. Als gläubiger Katholik und Geschichtskenner stand er der Gegenwart zu nüchtern gegenüber, als dass er an eine friedliche Lösung der sozialen Probleme seiner Zeit glauben konnte. Darum befürwortete er nicht nur die Gewalt, sondern erwartete geradezu, dass der Anreiz zu ihrer Anwendung von den Revolutionären, den Anarchisten und Sozialisten käme.

Die Dialektik der Ereignisse begriff Mella dabei als göttliches Strafgericht: es sind Gottesurteile, welche sich nach Art einer „Lotterie“ über die Nationen vollziehen. Die Teilnahme aller an dieser „Lotterie“ ist Zwang, und kein Los bleibt aus. Aus den Sünden und Nachlässigkeiten der Völker ergibt sich, als verdiente Strafe, das Ausbleiben rettender großer Staatsmänner. Und, umgekehrt, gibt es keine Tugend, keine Tüchtigkeit und kein Verdienst, die nicht irgendwie ihre Belohnung erhielten.

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Der liberale Staat systematisiert den Bürgerkrieg

Besonders widerwärtig war Mella die Gleichgültigkeit des liberalen Staats gegenüber den verschiedenen Meinungen und Ansichten in der Gesellschaft. Da der Staat zugegebenermaßen die Wahrheit nicht kennt, muss er sie, will er konsequent sein, vollends in Abrede stellen. Der Idiotie und Ignoranz überführt, ist er dennoch nicht willens, seine Finger von der Bildung zu lassen. Für den Posten eines weltlichen Oberpriesters, den er für sich beansprucht, ist er alles andere als qualifiziert. Von daher ist es absurd, dass er die bürgerliche Gesellschaft in seinem Schoss beherbergen möchte.

Denn, wie Mella ausführt, da, wo es keine gemeinsamen Prinzipien gibt, kann es auch keine gemeinsamen Einrichtungen geben. Sind die Prinzipien für den Staat alle gleich, und feinden sich zudem noch gegenseitig an, befinden sich im Wettstreit, so hat er mit seiner Ordnung doch nur eins geschafft: er hat den Bürgerkrieg systematisiert und damit die Wahrheit neutralisiert.

Die sich aus dieser Operation ergebende intellektuelle Anarchie verwirrt und scheidet die Geister noch mehr: durch die Unzahl von Ansichten und zerstückelten oder absonderlichen Lehren werden die Menschen unaufrichtig und schwächlich. Zuletzt verderben über den Unglauben auch noch die Gemüter, so dass, wenn die Revolution ausbricht, die Revolutionäre nicht auf ein Lager gewappneter Kreuzritter, sondern auf Klageweiber und blökende Schafe treffen.

mardi, 17 mai 2016

A World Turned Upside Down: Finding True North in the Last Hour

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A World Turned Upside Down:
Finding True North in the Last Hour

Michael Tung

Ex: https://sidneytrads.com

In this essay I will attempt to sketch out the Traditionalist view of the cosmos and the framework of its decline, with some emphasis on religious aspects—in the basic sense of religio as ‘connection’ between man and Reality, in accordance to the Vedantic maxim: “God is Reality, the world is appearance.” I take my cue partly from Livy’s ‘abstract’ to his monumental history, where he invites the reader to follow his exposition of Rome’s moral decline “while the old teaching was allowed to lapse; then finally the downward plunge which has brought us to the dark dawning of our modern day, when we can endure neither our vices nor their cure.”1

This is a work of synthesis: I have borrowed freely from the findings of philosophy, literature, and science, as well as the wisdom of different traditions, where I found them to speak in concord. Full responsibility is taken for any errors of interpretation and discursive leaps in the dark the reader may find, but I owe all insights herein to the great Traditionalist masters of the 20th century: René Guénon, Frithjof Schuon, and Julius Evola.

I

Disenchantment

The dominant mentality of the Modern world is one of disenchantment, a condition described by Max Weber as a world “robbed of gods.” The pre-modern, ‘organic’ view of the world as a web of symbols and ritual spaces imbued with supernatural power—a living organism—where everything is a symbol that speaks of God, was replaced with a hard, dry, mechanistic world of physical necessity and scientific exactitude, more akin to a machine in its utilitarian functions.

axis4f91ed8d02f6da9c4c872.jpgDescartes, amongst other seminal Modern thinkers, provided the philosophical impetus for the forces which would reduce human life to a set of Cartesian coördinates plotted within Weber’s Iron Cage along an x-axis: Reason, and a y-axis: Will—a parody of the Axis Mundi or the double Axe of the ancient god-kings (the prehistoric Cross) which served as the central symbols of the Traditional world. Philosophy was converted from a pursuit of eternal truths into a secular science which emphasized the power of human reason to manipulate the world. Nietzsche was perfectly justified in concluding, if flippantly, that “reason is only an instrument, and Descartes was superficial.”2

Secular life, in Heidegger’s formulation, is typically characterized by submergence in mundane ‘Everydayness,’ oblivious to ultimate Reality—most men, as Heraclitus said, spend their entire lives asleep. This is due to a by-product of the mechanistic worldview, the predominance of technology, or Technics/Technique, as it is termed by the philosophers Spengler and Ellul: “Science brings to the light of day everything man had believed sacred. Technique takes possession of it and enslaves it.”3

Heidegger painted our contemporary technological predicament—“the darkening of the world, the flight of the gods, the destruction of the earth, the massification of man”—with remarkable prescient colours in 1935:

Once the furthermost corner of the globe has been technologically conquered and opened up to economic exploitation, when every possible event in every possible place at every possible time has become as accessible as quickly as possible […] the questions which hover over this whole grotesque charade like ghosts are: for what?—where to?—and what then?4

Ellul summarised the two fundamental characteristics of Technics as rationalism and artificiality. He defines rationalism as the process which “tends to bring mechanics to bear on all that is spontaneous or irrational,” reducing human action “to its logical dimension alone.”5 The artificial nature of Technics is seen in its destruction, elimination, and subordination of the natural world: it “does not allow this world to restore itself or even to enter into a symbiotic relation with it.”6

The mechanistic view of nature nurtures a deadly confusion between ends (purpose) and means (instrument), to the point where relativists deny the concept of ‘purpose’ altogether. This can be seen most clearly in the extent to which human activity in the spheres of sexuality and economics, for example, has been twisted from its natural relationship to the procreation of children and the social good of the community. It is the rationalistic, capitalist doctrine of maximum efficiency and maximally ‘free’ markets which has thrown the native working classes of the West into competition with the cheaply fecund labour of the Global South.

Marx claimed that society was all ‘about the economy, stupid,’ while Freud reduced the motivation of all human endeavour to sex. These prophets of modern orthodoxy relegated the truly important aspects of individual life – culture, spirit – to the status of ‘superstructure’ and ‘false consciousness.’ They are wrong: from the raising of the pyramids to the great cathedral-building age of 12th century France, economic activity has always sprung from religious needs, not vice versa.7

II

The Veil of Illusion

But their senses were made dull. For, until this present day, the selfsame veil […] remaineth not taken away.
– II Corinthians iii.14

Traditionalists are easily accused of taking a sour-grapes approach to the ‘real world.’ Some criticize Traditionalism as mere reaction, invented to rationalise malcontent toward the modern world. In fact, the reverse is true: it is the modern world which is ‘unreal,’ created in direct opposition to Tradition, the world of the eternally Real. This opposition emerged with the rise of rationalism and materialism, which interposed the Veil of Maya, or Illusion—to borrow Schopenhauer’s Sanscrit term—between man and heaven. With Disenchantment, man loses all contact with transcendent truths: “the Shadow,” in Eliot’s words, falls “Between the idea/ And the reality… Between the essence/ And the descent.” The scientific quest, which began with the aim of improving life on earth, ends by creating the most poisonous substances known to man.

The act of living consciously in the Universe, which Ortega y Gasset equates with philosophy, produces truths which are founded on a holistic, integral conception of the world, truths qualitatively different from those of empirical science. “Scientific truth” however, is exact but “incomplete and penultimate; it is of necessity embedded in another kind of truth, complete and ultimate.”8 Science is underlain by man’s “thirst for the essential,” beyond “the limited plane of physical phenomena alone.”9

Heidegger’s Phenomenology offers a partial lifting of the Veil and a possibility for man to regain apprehension of the invisible world of Forms which underlies and gives meaning to the visible world of sense-perception. The first insight of Phenomenology, like that of Gasset, is that man’s primary encounter with the world is not as a world of atomized particles or biological mechanisms such as that investigated by empirical science, but a world of lived spaces and societies imbued with a priori meaning and significance for humans. The Cartesian dualism between mind and reality is thus transcended. Every aspect of belief depends on how we see the world, a metaphysical vision which, as D. H. Lawrence expounded,

is then unfolded into life and art […] We’ve got to rip the old veil of a vision across […] And we’ve got to put it down in terms of belief and of knowledge […] Rip the veil of the old vision across, and walk through the rent.10

III

The Last Hour

Traditionalists live as men amongst a world of ruins. A question which cuts to the heart of Tradition’s validity is this: “Have these things been foretold”? This question was addressed by Rama Coomaraswamy in a 1978 article in response to the seemingly inexorable march of Modernism.11 The answer is that these things have indeed been foretold throughout the Traditional world, in both symbolic depth and sociological detail.

St. Paul writes that End Times will be preceded by a great apostasy from true religion, when Antichrist will “sit in the temple of God”: “Let no man deceive you by any means: for that day shall not come, except there come a falling away first” (II Thessalonians ii.3). In expounding the teaching of the Church Fathers on this great apostasy, Cardinal Newman proposed that the régime of Antichrist would be built up on the same bases as the French Revolution: the idols of “liberty, equality and fraternity.”12 A great warning-sign of this time is the “abomination of desolation” of which we are warned by Christ himself:

And because iniquity shall abound, the love of many shall wax cold […] When ye therefore shall see the abomination of desolation […] stand in the holy place […] then shall be great tribulation, such as was not since the beginning of the world… nor ever shall be.
– St. Matthew xxiv.11, 12, 15, 21

The reference itself is to Daniel’s prophecy that the Eternal Sacrifice in the Temple of the Christian faith would be replaced by a display of blasphemy: “The Victim and the Sacrifice shall fail: and there shall be in the Temple the abomination of desolation.” (Daniel ix.27) Again and again it is prophesied that the dominant climate in this last age will be one of widespread deception, where even the faithful will be led astray from Tradition by false Messiahs “and false prophets [who] shall shew great signs and wonders.”

The degeneracy of the present is mirrored in even greater accuracy by the prophecies of ancient India regarding the Kali Yuga or Dark Age, whose darkest terminal phase we have already entered according to various concordant indications in traditional doctrines:13

People will follow the customs of others and be adulterated with them; peculiar, undisciplined barbarians will be vigorously supported by rulers, whilst purer tribes are neglected, and the people will perish […] Money alone will confer nobility […] Boldness and arrogance will be substituted for learning […] Men of all degrees will presumptuously regard themselves to be the equals of Brahmins […] Princes, instead of protecting, will plunder their subjects […] Vaishyas [yeomen] will abandon agriculture and commerce and will earn their living by servitude or the exercise of mechanical professions.14

kaliyuga.jpg

No doubt is left by the warning of St. John the Divine that we live indeed in the End Times: “Little children, it is the last hour: and as ye have heard that Antichrist shall come, even now are there many Antichrists…” (I John ii. 18)

If the Last Hour is indeed come, how shall we tell that time?

IV

The Cosmic Clock: Doctrine of Four World-Ages

Helical-clock.jpgFrom the Indo-Europeans to Mesoamerica, we find that the great traditional civilisations divided world history into Four Ages, a cosmic cycle between Creation and final destruction in which the overall trend is one of inevitable entropy and degeneration. Hesiod, Ovid, and the ancient Iranians, amongst others, identify the successive ages with Gold, Silver, Bronze (or Copper), and Iron. The Traditionalist conception of time is helical: neither linear (contra the myth of Eternal Progress) nor an endless cycle of Eternal Returns—pacĕ Nietzsche, Eliade, and modern Hinduism). The helix is made up of a succession of ever-decreasing cycles of cultural and spiritual disintegration, like the diminishing periods of a free-swinging pendulum) around a central axis. Heraclitus never stepped twice in the same river, and history never exactly repeats itself, but the beginning of a cycle foreshadows its end.15

In the Indo-Aryan tradition, which contains the fullest exposition of the Manvantara (cosmic cycle), the ages or Yugas are named Krita or Satya, Treta, Dvapara, Kali, each of which is shorter than the last, accordingly as one of the hoofs of the bull representing Dharma (traditional law) fails, hence the ratio 4: 3: 2: 1 for the duration of the Yugas. Applying the esoteric principle ‘All is number,’ the total duration of the Manvantara is represented by the symbolically perfect number, 10 = 4 + 3 + 2 + 1, an inversion of the sacred Pythagorean Tetraktys. In Western Hermeticism, this formula expresses precisely the relation of the end of a cycle to its beginning.16

Where do these ages fit into our historical time? No orthodox tradition has ever encouraged explicit ‘fortune-telling’ with regard to eschatological events—“of that day and hour knoweth no man”—and so the actual numbers have always been more or less carefully concealed through mathematical operations.17 However, the World-Ages can be dated in historical time by reference to a cosmological phenomenon of cardinal importance to the ancient world, the Precession of the Equinoxes:18 the slow ‘wobble’ in the Earth’s rotation which causes the spring Sun to rise under a different constellation of the zodiac every 2160 years, passing through all twelve houses of the zodiac – hence the astrological Age of Leo, Pisces, Aquarius, and so on – every 25,920 years. There much evidence that most ancient civilisations used the Precession of the Equinoxes as a ‘cosmic clock.’

The archæologist H. V. Hilprecht, after examining literally thousands of mathematical cuneiform inscriptions, discovered that the figure of the Great Platonic Year went back at least to the fourth millennium B.C. He wrote, “All the multiplication and division tables from the temple libraries of Nippur and Sippar and from the library of Ashurbanipal are based upon 12,960,000.” And as he pointed out, 12,960 x 2 = 25,920.19 The Assyrian King Sardanapalus prided himself on having mastered the esoteric science of his time:

I received the revelation of the sage Adapa [Adam], the hidden secret tradition […] I considered the heavens with the learned masters […] I have solved complicated mathematical problems that have not been understood before. I read the cunning tablets of Sumer and the dark Accadian tongue […] I took pleasure in examining stones inscribed before the Flood.20

sardage.php.jpg

Painting of Delacroix: Sardanapalus' death

A cuneiform tablet from the great library Sardanapalus compiled at Nineveh contains a single enigmatic sum which works out to 195,955,200,000,000. This number expresses in seconds, “an exact multiple of any revolution or conjunction period of any planet, comet, or satellite of the solar system […] exactly down to several decimal points.”21 The sacred number of Nineveh also equates, in seconds, to exactly 240 cycles of the Precession of the Equinoxes, that is 480 Platonic Great Years.22 It seems that this is the long lost number called the “Great Constant of the Solar System,” fabled amongst alchemists, astrologers, and astronomers.23 It contains only a single apparent inaccuracy: the Nineveh Constant of 2268 million days is out by a mere 1.0368 seconds when divided into tropical years. This can be explained by the annual decrease of the tropical year by 0.000016 seconds ever since the Constant was first calculated, which can thus be worked out to approximately 62,800 B.C.24

Guénon found that the duration of the four ages could be found by taking the Platonic Great Year of the Persians and the Greeks—12,960 years, exactly half a full Precession of the Equinoxes—and multiplying it by five (the number of world-ages in Mesoamerican tradition).25 Thus our Manvantara is made up of 64,800 years: with the Krita, Treta, Dvapara, and Kali Yugas lasting respectively 25,920, 19,440, 12,960, and 6480 years.26

Based on concordant traditional data given by Guénon27 and the historian Gaston Georgel,28 an approximate chronology of the Four Ages is given below:

62,800 B.C. – Beginning of Golden Age, Satya/Krita Yuga
36,800 B.C. – Beginning of Silver Age, Treta Yuga [Deluge]

23,900 B.C. – Foundation of Atlantean civilisation
17,400 B.C. – Beginning of Bronze Age, Dvapara Yuga
10,900 B.C. – Cataclysm which ended Atlantean civilisation [corresponds with Younger Dryas meteor impact]

4400 B.C. – Beginning of Iron Age, Kali Yuga [corresponds with Indo-European invasions of Europe]

This accords with the best harmonization of scientific data with the Genesis Creation account.29 Eden was a state ‘above time,’ without death, seasons, or religion—which, after all, exists merely as a means to restore the human-divine connection which had not then been lost. The Golden Age opens after the Fall with the emergence of man in a state of near-perfection. The further he descends from the Principle, as the primordial Breath of God sounds ever more faintly in him, the lower he falls. All civilisations except the modern have been conscious of having fallen away from the perfection of Primordial Man, the beacon of which has been kept alight by an initiatic chain of prophets and saints across the millennia.30

Goldenes-Zeitalter-1530-2.jpg

The Golden Age by Lucas Cranach the Elder.

V

Ex Septentrione Lux: “Light from the North”

The most ancient layer of Tradition univocally affirms the primacy of the North as the sacred direction, the place of origin for mankind. Guénon, in many places, alludes to the Hyperborean source of the Primordial Tradition. In symbolic geography the North represents the closest point between Heaven and the temporal sphere of Chronus-Saturn, god of entropy and exiled King of the Hyperborean Golden Age who slumbers beside the frozen Chronian (Arctic) Sea.31

Zend-Avesta,_trad._Anquetil-Duperron,_volume_1.djvu.jpgThe North is the land where the sun never sets, a place of undying light. Every sacred tradition honours the Centre, the point where contrasts are resolved, the symbolic place not subject to the laws of cosmic entropy. The North was the cardinal point chosen whereby the primæval Logos would reveal itself in History. Every divine revelation in human history represents a reëstablishment of that Centre.

In Mediæval European and ancient Indian cosmology we find a high mountain at the top of the world and water flowing out from this mountain in four streams to the four cardinal points, which William Fairfield Warren, founding president of Boston University, identified as the original, Edenic home of mankind in all the major traditions of Eurasia.32

References to a sacred Arctic homeland abound in the Zend Avesta, the ancient Persian scripture, which describes the polar mountain, Hara Berezaiti, arising at the “beginning of the world” in the North, inhabited by gods and heroes.33 The sun, Hvar, as well as the moon and stars revolve around it. Next to the High Hara, there is a sea containing a paradisal land. On this island “They call a year a day.”34

Analysis of the oldest Indo-Iranian, Greek, and Celtic source traditions reveals a deep collective memory amongst the Indo-Europeans of an original homeland in “the glacial zone of the Arctic […] a home which was abandoned […] upon the onset of intense cold.”35

tilakprint2.jpgThe Indian nationalist scholar, Bal Gangadhar Tilak, came to the same conclusion based on his analysis of the most ancient Hindu scriptures, the Vedas: “the poets of the Rig-Veda were acquainted with the climatic conditions witnessible only in the Arctic regions […] described by them […] directly in plain and simple words.”36

Metaphysical ‘Northernness’ transcends the physical compass point. Our respective nations in the South Seas are, after all, typologically Northern. Dante reminds us prophetically of this paradox by situating the Earthly Paradise at the summit of Mount Purgatory (an implicitly Polar image) under the four stars of the Southern Cross—symbolizing the four Cardinal Virtues, Prudence, Temperance, Fortitude, and Justice—together with the constellations of the Arctic North, mysteriously hinting that Adam and Eve had been the first to gaze upon the Crux Australis.37

A memory of the Primordial North lingers in the human psyche as a nostalgia for the origins, an indescribable yearning or Sehnsucht for ‘Northernness,’ as C. S. Lewis called it—a numinous moment which he first experienced in childhood after reading the first lines of a Norse saga mourning the death of Balder, the Norse Messiah: “instantly I was uplifted into huge regions of northern sky […] cold, spacious, severe, pale, and remote.”38 On a providential level it is no coincidence that Lewis the future Christian thinker would be so moved by a reference to the Norse sun-god, “the just and benignant—whom the early Christian Missionaries found to resemble Christ.”39

Lewis describes his rediscovery of this “authentic Joy” many years later upon glimpsing one of Rackham’s illustrations to Siegfried and the Twilight of the Gods:

Pure ‘Northernness’ engulfed me […] the same world as Balder and the sunward-sailing cranes […] there arose at once, almost like heartbreak, the memory of Joy itself, the knowledge […] that I was returning at last from exile and desert lands to my own country.40

VI

Axis Mundi: “The Vertical Dimension”

Amongst almost all ancient civilisations, the concept of the Northern paradise was closely connected to that of the pillar or tower linking the Centre or omphalos of the earth with the Pole Star or Sun at the centre of the skies: “This was why the Tree of Life stood in the middle of the Garden of Eden.”41

EphremSyrian-ppa-55-800.jpgThe Sun—with its qualities of immobility, immutability, and stability—symbolized the supreme God, and the positive, masculine principles of his divine nature.42 The axial motif of the Sun radiating from the summit of the Tree at the world’s Centre symbolized the Saviour or divine Son. For example, the Orphic Hymn to Apollo—grandson of the Titan Polus, ‘Pole’—praises the god for harmonizing the opposite poles of the cosmos with his lyre. This imagery harks back to the falcon Horus—god of the sun and the Pole—king and messiah of Egypt, who is depicted as alighting upon the Djed or column of Stability at the creation of the Earth.

Much of this symbolism entered the patrimony of the early Church, where Christ was depicted in mosaic as Apollo in the Vatican catacombs and at the villa discovered at Hinton St Mary. St. Ephraim the Syrian, in fact, equates the Cross with “the Tree of Life […] the sun of Paradise.”43 This was no mere naïve syncretism, but the sign of an acknowledgement amongst the earliest Christians that the promised Saviour Son-god of the ancients had arisen as their “Sun of Righteousness.”44 The Peace of the Church marked a victory for the Apollonian qualities of mercy, discipline, clarity, proportion, and good taste.

The two pillars of Modernity are Reason and Will, to the exclusion of man’s spiritual faculty, the third dimension—the transcendent or vertical, which is represented by the Axis Mundi.

When the Divine Influence acts directly on our world, or ‘vertically,’ the resulting display of supernatural power is commonly known as a ‘miracle.’ Within the usual course of things, transcendent forces act ‘horizontally,’ without directly interfering in or suspending the laws of nature. The error of materialism, as Frithjof Schuon noted, is to restrict all causality to the material world, so that only the horizontal dimension exists.

Henry Corbin, the philosopher of Sufi and Christian mysticism, equated this denial of the vertical dimension to man’s loss of a spiritual Centre, cast adrift in a meaningless, aimless cosmic void without “this celestial dimension, archetypal, angelic, which is the celestial pole without which the terrestrial pole of his human dimension is completely depolarised in vagabondage and perdition.”45

VII

The Occult Temptation: Psychics, Drugs, and Orientalism

[…] for Satan himself transformeth him into an angel of light.
– II Cor. xi.14

A Traditional belief system can only be founded on structured authority, as found in initiatory orders or priestly hierarchies. Many of those who realise that Modernity is seriously lacking in the spiritual dimension fall into the trap of seeking an answer in counterfeit traditions bereft of such authority, in highly dubious ‘channelling’ or neopagan ‘Eastern wisdom,’ often cloaked in a thick fog of anodyne mysticism (and pot). A common thread uniting such pseudo-gurus is the typically Modern arrogance that moves them to claim ‘discoveries’ of traditional truths which have never been or can be ‘lost,’ merely hidden from profane view.

uptonjZ7EGErL.jpgCharles Upton, a student of Guénon, observed that the success of the Theosophists of yesterday and neopagans of today, in repackaging Hermetic teachings stripped of their religious and traditional context—along with, for example, belief “in UFOs and alien entities that bear all the marks of classical demons”—merely adds an ‘esoteric flavour’ to the Modern habit of explaining the mysteries of the world by reference to purely material causes: psychic powers, biological race, astronomical events and the like.46

The insipid abandonment to substances which relax self-control and warp one’s perception of reality, so popular in youth counterculture, can only be regarded as another manifestation of what Evola called the irrational, ‘Dionysian’ spirit of intoxication and surrender.47 Some of its more pretentious epigones claim a transcendent aspect for their ‘highs,’ citing the initiatory techniques of shamanic cultures which supposedly made use of amanita and other narcotics, as if such ‘legitimate’ employment of psychoactive drugs, within highly complex and structured ritual contexts, could find any parallel in the commercial hedonism of adolescent ‘stoners.’ No less a New Age guru than Castaneda reveals, after his famous description of supposedly peyote-fuelled Toltec magi in his first two books, that the development of higher, supranatural states of perception is in fact independent of psychotropic ingestion.48 The authority on Nordic shamanism, Åke Ohlmarks,49 distinguished between the sub-Arctic form of shamanism, in which trances are produced artificially through drug or dance, and the original, ‘true’ Arctic shamanism, in which these states occurred naturally.

For those who imagine that the answer to Western spiritual malaise is to found in the ‘unspoilt’ tradition of the East, Philip Sherrard has noted that forms of scientific rationalism and materialism had developed in the Eastern civilisations far in advance of Christendom.50 In the social sciences, Han Fei Tzu’s rejection of Confucian metaphysics and his theories of sovereign absolutism and innate selfishness, which provided the political doctrine for the régime of the First Emperor, anticipate the Occidental upstart Hobbes by eighteen centuries.

The main philosophical sideshows of the last three centuries—Spinoza, the arithmeticians of Empiricism, and the occult distractions of Masonry and New Age cultism—have done little more than provide sanitised versions of Talmudic and Cabbalist speculation for Gentile audiences, the main attraction being their superficial similarity to authentic metaphysical traditions. In a similar vein, the big tussle in political economics of the last two centuries was between Marx’s rip-off of Hegel’s teleology and Plato’s social theory, on the one hand, and the global merchant-financier nexus on the other. The cosmetic divisions between these Modernist factions allow Modernity’s adherents to throw off their critics as ‘conspiracy theorists.’ The truth is that all these movements tend toward the subversion of whatever is left of Traditional society.

VIII

Philosophia Perennis

AKCooma.JPGTraditionalism posits that all religions are derived from a body of core truths, a Divine Revelation, known as the Philosophia Perennis or ‘Perennial Philosophy.’ The Philosophia Perennis is fundamentally monotheistic, as can be seen in its Semitic and even its apparently polytheistic Indo-European branches; this has been argued most cogently by Ananda Coomaraswamy.51 The Traditional doctrine—that monotheism belongs to the earliest, primordial layer of every religion, only later degenerating into polytheism and idolatry—was proven by Pater Wilhelm Schmidt, founder of the Vienna School of ethnology.52

Count de Maistre noted with great insight that many languages of remote tribes contain references to concepts originating from formerly higher states of civilisation and knowledge;53 this is echoed by Joseph Campbell’s observation that most ‘primitive cultures’ represent “degenerations, and immensely old fossilisations of folkways that were developed in very different lands, often under much less simple circumstances.”54

Although the general trend of cosmic history is downwards, as is recorded for example in Genesis, Providence intervenes at crucial points to restore the Primordial Tradition, when the divine Principle enters the world in the person of a great redeeming figure.55 This characterizes the great religious revelations – such as those of Moses or the prophets – when “a small nucleus of humanity was snatched up and placed on a spiritual summit to act as an ideal and a guiding light for future generations.”56

Before Christ such redeemers were sent only to limited dispensations of people or culture: Zarathustra for Iran, Quetzalcoatl for the Mesoamericans, Buddha to the Indians. The advent of Rome and the World-Empire prepared the world of the Fourth Age for a World-Saviour. The descent of the Only-Begotten Son into the world can be seen as a divine gamble, an ultimate revelation which made possible a universalism of Good; its satanic inversion in Modernity has produced a universalism of Evil.

IX

Sacrament

I suppose it remains for me here to offer some religious solutions to the present turmoil.

In the above synthesis I have hoped to throw some light on Count de Maistre’s affirmation that “that all of Paganism is nought but a system of truths corrupted and displaced; which only need cleansing, so to speak, and reinstatement in their proper position, to shine forth in their full brilliance.”57 I have also tried to suggest that this ‘cleansing is to be found in the Christian tradition, which “in its early days, was for the Christians an initiation, and for the rest a system, a philosophic or theurgic sect.”58

A serious critique of Christianity amongst the major Traditionalist thinkers was that its sacraments no longer represented valid initiatory rites due to the modern Church’s emphasis on exoterism over esoterism. These reservations were addressed by Frithjof Schuon’s strong protest in favour of the full and continued validity of the Christian sacraments, the denial of which would constitute “a betrayal of the Spirit.”59 René Guénon himself confirmed that the Islamic tradition considered Christianity “to have been a tarīqah, that is, essentially an initiatic ‘way’”60 To this I would add that a conscientious Westerner does himself a great disservice to surrender lightly the traditional patrimony of at least a millennia of his immediate ancestors. Through the Christian sacraments, the subject integrates realities in life that are beyond human understanding, forces and powers that existed before and point beyond our limited individual lives: birth, growth, procreation, frailty, guilt, vocation, communion through sacrifice, weakness and mortality.

Remember that I have remembered,
mia pargoletta,
and pass on the tradition.
– Ezra Pound, Canto LXXX

Michael Tung is a graduate in Ancient History and Political Studies at the University of Auckland and is currently training for registration as a high school teacher. His contribution to last year’s Symposium (“quo vadis conservatism, or do traditionalists have a place in the current party political system?”) was titled “Ride that Tigre; or The Party’s an Ass”.

Bibliographic Note:

Of particular interest to any inquirers into Traditional and the Perennial Philosophy are these works:

Endnotes:

  1. “[…] velut desidentes primo mores sequatur animo, deinde ut magis magisque lapsi sint, tum ire coeperint præcipites, donec ad hæc tempora quibus nec vitia nostra nec remedia pati possumus perventum est.” (Titus Livius, Ab Urbe Condita, Book I, Preface: § 9).
  2. Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, Part V, §191.
  3. Jacques Ellul, The Technological Society, John Wilkinson (trans.), (London: Jonathan Cape, 1965), p. 139.
  4. Martin Heidegger, An Introduction to Metaphysics, Ralph Manheim (trans.), (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1959), pp. 37–38.
  5. Jacques Ellul, op. cit., p. 78.
  6. Ibid. p. 79.
  7. Joseph Campbell, The Masks of God, IV: Creative Mythology (New York: Viking Penguin, 1976), p. 47.
  8. José Ortega y Gasset, History as a System, and Other Essays. Toward a Philosophy of History, Helene Weyl (trans.), (New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1941), cap. I: “Sportive Origin of the State”, p. 16.
  9. Frithjof Schuon, Roots of the Human Condition (Bloomington: World Wisdom, 2002), p. 20.
  10. H. Lawrence, Fantasia of the Unconscious, Foreword.
  11. Rama P. Coomaraswamy, “Have These Things Been Foretold?The Roman Catholic I, No. 1, (1978).
  12. John Henry Cardinal Newman, “The Patristical Idea of Antichrist”, in Discussions and Arguments on Various Subjects (London: Longman, Green, & Co., 1907), pp. 44–107.
  13. René Guénon, Crisis of the Modern World, Arthur Osborne, Marco Pallis, Richard C. Nicholson (transs.), (Hillsdale: Sophia Perennis, 2001 [1946]), p. 17.
  14. Vishnu Purana, Book IV, Chapter 24; Book VI, Chapter 1.
  15. Laurent James, “Parousia”, Apex: Avant-garde et tradition, No. 1: La fin des temps—La lutte finale (August 2010), 5–11: 5.
  16. René Guénon, “Some Remarks on the Doctrine of Cosmic Cycles”, in Samuel D. Fohr (ed.), Traditional Forms and Cosmic Cycles Henry D. Fohr (trans.), (Hillsdale: Sophia Perennis, 2003 [1970]), pp. 1–12: 6.
  17. Ibid.
  18. Giorgio de Santillana and Hertha von Dechend, Hamlet’s Mill: An Essay on Myth and the Frame of Time (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1969).
  19. Hermann V. Hilprecht, Mathematical, Metrological and Chronological Tablets from the Temple Library of Nippur: Vol. XX, part I, of H. V. Hilprecht (ed.), The Babylonian Expedition of the University of Pennsylvania, Series A: Cuneiform Texts, (Philadelphia: Dep’t of Archæology, Univ. of Penn., 1906).
  20. Ibid.
  21. Maurice Chatelain, Nos ancêtres venus du cosmos, Orest Berlings (trans.), (Garden City: Doubleday, 1978), p. 29.
  22. Ibid. p. 26.
  23. Ibid. p. 28.
  24. Ibid. p. 29.
  25. René Guénon, “Some Remarks on the Doctrine of Cosmic Cycles,” op. cit., (2003 [1970]), pp. 1–12: 7.
  26. Ibid. pp. 1–12: 8.
  27. René Guénon, “The Place of the Atlantean Tradition in the Manvantara,” op. cit., (2003 [1970]), pp. 23–26: 25.
  28. Gaston Georgel, Le cycle judéo-chrétien, sceau et couronnement de l’histoire humaine (Milan: Archè, 1983), p. 40.
  29. Hugh Ross, A Matter of Days: Resolving a Creation Controversy (Colorado Springs: NavPress Publishing, 2004).
  30. Martin Lings, Chapter 4: “The Past in the Light of the Present and the Rhythms of Time” in Martin Lings and Clinton Minnaar (eds.) The Underlying Religion: An Introduction to the Perennial Philosophy (Bloomington: World Wisdom, 2007) pp. 35–54: 51.
  31. Pliny, Naturalis Historia, IV.16.
  32. Chet Van Duzer, “The Mythic Geography of the Northern Polar Regions: Inventio fortunata and Buddhist Cosmology”, Culturas Populares: Revista Electrónica, No. 2 (May-Aug. 2006); William Fairfield Warren, founding president of Boston University, Paradise Found—The Cradle of the Human Race at the North Pole: A Study of the Prehistoric World (Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Co., 1885).
  33. Greater Bundahishn, VI (C); Lesser Bundahishn, VIII.1–5 [Hara is the origin of the Iranian toponym Alburz]; William Fairfield Warren, op. cit., Part IV, Chapters 1 and 5, especially pp. 133–4.
  34. Zend Avesta, “Vendidad”, Fargard II.40 (131). Cf. James Darmstetter’s translation: The Zend Avesta [Sacred Books of the East, Vol. IV] (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1880), Part I,  20.
  35. Onorato Bucci, “Airyana Vaejah: La dimora originaria degli Arii e la formazione storica del principio dell’armonia cosmica”, in Antichi popoli europei: Dall’unità alla diversificazione (Rome: Editrice Universitaria – La Goliardica, 1993), The writer’s translation.
  36. Bal Gangadhar Tilak, The Arctic Home in the Vedas: Being Also a New Key to the Interpretation of Many Vedic Texts and Legends (Poona City: Kesari, 1903).
  37. Dante Alighieri, Purgatorio, Cantos I.22–7, XXX.1–3.
  38. S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy, chapter 1.
  39. Thomas Carlyle, On Heroes, Hero-worship, and the Heroic in History, Lecture I.
  40. S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy, Chapter 5.
  41. Ivar Lissner, Man, God and Magic [Aber Gott War Da] J. Maxwell Brownjohn (trans.), (London: Jonathan Cape, 1961), p. 267.
  42. Samuel Angus, The Religious Quests of the Græco-Roman World (New York: Biblo and Tannen, 1967), p. 275.
  43. Ephraim the Syrian, Hymns on Paradise Sebastian Brock, (trans.), (Crestwood: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1990), III.2, p. 90.
  44. Malachi iv.2; St. Augustine, Sermon VIII, § 7.
  45. Henry Corbin, The Man of Light in Iranian Sufism, Nancy Pearson (trans.), (New Lebanon: Omega Publications, 1994), p. 3; Henry Corbin, Le paradoxe du monothéisme (Paris: L’Herne, 1981), p. 243.
  46. Charles Upton, System of Antichrist: Truth and Falsehood in Postmodernism and the New Age (Hillsdale: Sophia Perennis, 2001), p. 419.
  47. Julius Evola, Ride the Tiger, Joscelyn Godwin and Constance Fontana (trans.), (Rochester: Inner Traditions, 2003), Part VI, Chapter 24, p. 167.
  48. Carlos Castaneda, Journey to Ixtlan (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1972), Introduction.
  49. Åke Ohlmarks, Studien zum Problem des Schamanismus (Lund: Gleerup, 1939).
  50. Philip Sherrard, “Modern Science and the Dehumanisation of Man”, in Martin Lings and Clinton Minnaar (ed.) op. cit., pp. 70–91.
  51. Ananda K. Coomaraswamy, “Vedic ‘Monotheism’”, Journal of Indian History, Vol. XV (1936), 84–92. [SydneyTrads Editors: the writer relies on Coomaraswamy’s original published work, as cited here. However, readers may be interested to note that this article was subsequently republished as “Vedic ‘Monotheism’” in Roger Lipsey (ed.), Selected Papers: Metaphysics, Bollingen Series 89 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1977), Vol. II, pp. 166–177.]
  52. Wilhelm Schmidt, Der Ursprung der Gottesidee: Eine historisch-kritische und positive Studie (Münster: Aschendorff, 1912–55), 12 vols. English translation: The Origin and Growth of Religion: Facts and Theories, H. J. Rose (trans.), (London: Methuen, 1931).
  53. Joseph de Maistre, Soirées de St-Pétersbourg (1821), Second Dialogue.
  54. Joseph Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces, chap. II. 4.
  55. René Guénon, op. cit. (2001 [1946]), pp. 8, 9; Jean Phaure, Le Cycle de l’Humanité Adamique: Introduction à l’étude de la cyclologie traditionnelle et de la fin des Temps (Paris: Éditions Dervy, 1994), p. 269.
  56. Martin Lings, “The Past in the Light of the Present and the Rhythms of Time”, in Martin Lings and Clinton Minnaar (ed.) op. cit., pp. 35–54: 47.
  57. Joseph de Maistre, op. cit., Eleventh Dialogue.
  58. Ibid., Ninth Dialgue.
  59. Frithjof Schuon, “Les mystères christiques”, Études traditionnelles, No. LXIX (July-Aug. 1948), pp. 191–203.
  60. René Guénon, Insights into Christian Esoterism, Henry D. Fohr (trans.) Samuel D. Fohr (ed.), (Hillsdale, N.Y.: Sophia Perennis, 2001), p. 6.

Citation Style:

This article is to be cited according to the following convention:

Michael Tung, “A World Turned Upside Down: Finding True North in the Last Hour” SydneyTrads – Weblog of the Sydney Traditionalist Forum (30 April 2016) <sydneytrads.com/2016/04/30/2016-symposium-michael-tung> (accessed [date]).

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dimanche, 15 mai 2016

La Xvarnah des Perses

Pfingsten_kommheiligenGeist.gif

La Xvarnah des Perses

La religion de la Perse ancienne, le zoroastrisme, parle d'une Lumière de gloire, la Xvarnah, une énergie à l'œuvre depuis l'instant initial de la Création et qui perdurera jusqu'à l'acte final de la transfiguration du monde [1]. Cette lumière est la substance qui constitue Ahura Mazda. L'iconographie la représente comme un nimbe lumineux, une aura glorieuse. Cette gloire est la Terre céleste, la mère du monde, Spenta Armaiti, une divinité qui correspond à notre Sophia occidentale. Elle intervient dans la relation entre l'âme et le Divin, qui s'opère dans un monde intermédiaire entre le monde de la matière et celui du pur esprit : le mundus imaginalis (monde imaginal).Ce monde est celui où les formes sensibles s'immatérialisent et où les intelligences pures prennent une corporéité spirituelle. Sur ce plan imaginal, la Terre est perçue comme un ange, Spenta Armaiti.

Source: http://www.philosophe-inconnu.com/Etudes/corps_glorieux01.htm

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jeudi, 12 mai 2016

Adversus Haereses: Nicolás Gómez Dávila - Against the Religion of Democracy¹

dav1.jpg

Krzysztof Urbanek

Adversus Haereses: Nicolás Gómez Dávila - Against the Religion of Democracy¹

Ex: https://sidneytrads.com

I

Nicolás Gómez Dávila2 is primarily known for his authorship of the five volume work Scholia to an Implicit Text. Those who study Dávila’s life and work mostly focus on these 10,260 aphorisms3 and question what the “implicit text” actually is. Various arbitrary answers are offered by different academics: Franco Volpi believes it is the ideal act which is beyond the Bogotán’s creative reach, Till Kinzel believes it is the books from his library, Francia Elena Goenaga Olivares believes it is God, and numerous other researchers believe that the “implicit text” is Western culture itself.

However, it is rarely asked whether the Author of the Scholia has not elucidated an answer to this himself. Indeed, it appears that in 1988 – thus during the thinker’s life – Francisco Pizano de Brigard (who was a friend of Dávila’s) noted in a special edition of Revista del Colegio Mayor de Nuestra Señora del Rosario4 that the “implicit text” appears on pages 60-100 of the first volume of the Textos I.5 There is no evidence that Dávila ever objected to this. Moreover, in the first volume of the Scholia we encounter the Bogotan’s idiosyncratic note: “the writer’s original thought echoes in his passing commentaries.”6

This point is sufficiently pressing to call for a closer reflection on the abovementioned text in order to capture its essence, because the substance of one of the most ingenious works of twentieth century thought revolves around the ideas contained in Dávila’s Scholia to an Implicit Text.

II

dav2.jpgThe subject of Nicolás Gómez Dávila’s Text Implicite is democracy. According to the Author, democracy is a new religion; more precisely, an anthropotheistic religion in which Man is presented as God. The Catholic Thinker therefore concludes that the ultimate consequence can only be to treat democracy as if it were a form of Satanism.

At the beginning of his thesis, Dávila concerns himself with two main types of democracy: bourgeoisie democracy and people’s democracy. To the Bogotán, the difference between the bourgeoisie and peoples democracies is essentially trivial, give that both strive towards the same goal, namely “the redemption of Man though Man.”

According to the Author of the Scholia, democracy is neither an electoral procedure, nor a social structure, nor an economic order. History illustrates that democracy is accompanied by militant secularism and the criticism of the mere phenomenon of religion. The intent that underpins the secularisation of society emanates from a “Godless zeal” and “secular caution”.7 Students of democracy highlight its religious character: that the sociology of democratic revolutions operates in categories that have been established through religious historicism. Certainly, the religious aspect of democracy is illuminated – I would say rationalised – equally through the bourgeoisie capitalist systems as well as through the peoples’ communistic systems. Gómez admits the primacy of the later8 and adds that while its theories hold that it is the best exemplification of truth, “it could be said that it suffices to reverse [these communistic theories] to not fall into error.”9

Next, Gómez turns his attention to the philosophy of history. He holds that “every philosophy aims to define the relationship between Man and his deeds.”10 He adds, that “the manner in which the relationship between Man and his deeds is defined, determines all universal explanations [i.e. for human conduct]”,11 and “philosophical definition of a particular relationship [i.e. between Man and deed] constitutes a theory of human motivation.”12 The Bogotán considers the plurality of the theories of motivation and their successive or simultaneous application, yet he concludes that “in each motivational theory, to which one may be preferentially disposed, and in each configuration in which he may be found, every deed is coordinated by an earlier religious choice.”13 This original choice – which Man is often oblivious to – defines Man’s attitude towards God and is the ultimate context of the deed. Thus Gómez summarises that “the individual as a historical phenomenon is the product of a religious choice.”14

The Bogotán therefore continues that “as we study any democratic phenomena, only a religious analysis will explain its nature, and thus allow one to ascribe to it appropriate meaning.”15 His definition of democracy appears at this point of reflection: “Democracy is an anthopotheistic religion. Its principle is a choice which has a religious character, a deed in which Man acknowledges Man as a god. Its doctrine is the theology of Man-as-God, its praxis is the realisation of the principle in behaviour, institutions and deeds.”16 Thus Gómez holds that “a godliness that democracy ascribes to the individual […] is a strictly theological definition”17 and therefore “democratic anthropology treats Man’s being in a manner that accords with classical attributes of God.”18

According to the Author of the Scholia, anthopotheism opts for one of two solutions to our present miseries. Either it speaks of a godly past (Orphic cosmogonies or Gnostic sects), or a godly future (democratic religion). Modern democratic religion is a lesson in “painful theogony”,19 and Man is represented as “material for its future condition.”20 Gómez speaks of the ethical lawlessness of anthropotheism, of it sectarianism, and its metaphysical revolt. In the next stage of his reflection, he underlines that “democratic doctrine is an ideological superstructure, patently applied to religious assumptions. The anthropological bias of the democratic doctrine finds its continuation in a militant apologetics.”21 In relation to democratic anthropology, Man is represented by Will, a Will that is free, sovereign and equal. Gómez briefly describes four theses of the democratic ideology’s apologetics:

  1. Pompous atheism (theology of the immanent God);
  2. Progressivism (the idea of progress as theodicy: from matter through Man towards the Devine);
  3. Subjective axiology (value recognised as that which the Will considers its own); and
  4. Common determinism (“total human freedom demands an enslaved universe”22).

dav3.jpgAccording to Nicolás Gómez Dávila, the sovereign Will reigns in liberal and individualistic democracies, while the authentic Will reigns in collective and despotic democracies. In his characterisation of the democratic religion, the Author of the Scholia holds that “the transformation of a liberal and individualistic democracy, into a collective and despotic democracy, does not molest the democratic intention, nor does it depart from its promised objectives.”23 This is because the law of the democratic Will has the mandate to coerce the obedience of the individual Will, due to the fact that the individual Will “sins against its [i.e. the democratic Will’s] own being.”24 Summarising thus far, the Bogotán writes that “continued faith in the democratic ideal interferes with the immediate objectives of the authoritarian democrat, who enslaves in the name of freedom and awaits the coming of a god from without the depraved masses.”25 Thus in the context of Man’s supposed omnipotence, Gómez recalls democracy’s resulting abuse of technology and the “inexorable industrial exploitation of the planet.”26

Next, Gómez come to an historical outline in which he discusses the historical legacy of democratic anthropotheism. He comes to the conclusion that the “modern democratic religion comes into being when Bogomilian and Cathar dualism, and apocalyptic messianism, fuse together.”27 Through a century of evolution, the democratic religion – the “daughter of pride”28 – begets a tremendous number of subsequent ideologies:

All can deceive us: virtue, which dazzles itself, sin, which deforms itself before our eyes. For the whole doctrine to be accepted, all that is required is that one aspect flatter us. When we fall into the enslaving trap, the seemingly chaotic nature of our conduct is then subject to the pressures [i.e. of the ideology] that purports to enforce order.29

Here we see the multiplicity of pathways each of which lead to the same destination: the deification of Man. The Author of the Scholia argues that the watershed moment in the evolution of the democratic religion was the formation of the nation-state, “which believes itself to be the sole judge of its deeds and the ultimate arbiter of its affairs […] which it accepts only those norms which are acknowledged by its own Will, and whose interests is the highest law.”30 According to the Bogotán, “the sovereign nation is the first democratic victory.”31 The only response to this usurpation is to assert the Divine Right of Kings. Such a law will eliminate any absolutizing tendencies: “above the Monarch is the Monarch Most High – shall rain judiciously, anointed by religion, preceded by natural law, guided by the authority of morality.”32

The next stage of the democratic invasion, which justified through the nature of its doctrine, is the mass’s revolutionary demand for freedom. According to Gómez, this way “the masses demand the freedom to be their own tyrant.”33 Equally important is that as soon as the mass’s demands are met, the axiological ties that underpin economic dynamism are destroyed, and the desire for unlimited wealth and prosperity arises. This economic value is subject to the suzerainty of Man, and in Gomez’s opinion, it “is the least absurd symbol of Man’s imaginary sovereignty.”34 The cult of wealth is a typically democratic phenomenon associated with the dominance of the bourgeoisie. Thus the bourgeoisie consciously elects to create and support the existence of a secular state, so as to avoid having to resolve the opposition between his subjective whims against the “interfering axiology”35 of objective or perennial truths:36

[W]hoever tolerates the proposition that the religious perspective interferes with the pursuits of banal materialist or worldly affairs, that ethical righteousness can arrest technological progress, that an aesthetic cause can modify political initiatives and projects, such a person wounds that bourgeoisie sensitivity and betrays the bourgeoisie enterprise.37

In the democratic religion, each individual is granted the superficial authority over his own destiny. Everything is to be subject to the individual’s capricious will. Gómez writes that “economic theft [i.e. when the individual’s right to the fruit of his labour is abrogated, or when the aforesaid axiological ties that underpin economic dynamism are destroyed.] culminates in a pusillanimous individualism, in which ethical indifference is reflected in intellectual anarchy.”38 The Bogotán observes that “reactionary apprehension, which every democratic episode provokes, recreates a theory of human rights and political constitutionalism, so as to contain and restrain the mischievousness of people’s sovereignty.”39 In this context, Gómez recalls the weaknesses of political liberalism. Thus, “[t]he third phase of the democratic conquest is the establishment of the communistic society.”40 Communism, according to the Author, is a conscious project, and

in the communist society, the ambition of the democratic doctrine is revealed. Its goal is not the modest happiness of existing humanity: it’s goal is the recreation of a Man whose sovereignty assumes the omnipotent control over his universe. Communist Man is a deity, who treads on the earthen crust.41

In conclusion, Gómez writes about the resulting ennui and cruelty of Man who attempts unsuccessfully to imitate the omnipotence of God,42 and considers the total reactionary rebellion to be the only sincere response to the anthropotheistic democratic religion.43

Generally speaking, so much on the topic of anthropotheism can be found in the 1959 volume of the Textos. It is worth noting inter alia that in his text Implicite Gómez focuses on futuristic anthropotheism: i.e. the democratic religion itself. Furthermore, while searching for the roots of this democratic religion, he arrives at an anthropotheism fixated on Man’s deified past, or in other words, on Gnosticism. The extent to which there are commentaries concerning Gnosticism in the New Scholia to an Implicit Text,44 these are related to and contingent on the critique of democracy itself in the Scholia to an Implicit Text. It is clearly evident that on reflection, and after a period of omitting to address the issue, Nicolás Gómez Dávila places considerable weight on Gnosticism: this can be found in the overlapping boundaries of religion and philosophy. Moreover, the student can notice that during this period, Gómez departs from a clear distinction marked in his Textos, and all anthropotheism – both past and futuristic – is identified with Gnosticism itself.

In light of the above, it is unsurprising that the Bogotán treats Gnosticism with decisive enmity. The advocates of Gnosticism are apparently considered the greatest enemies of Christianity, and from this perspective he identifies the active threat of its contemporary manifestation: “Christianity should not be defended from the ‘arguments’ of past and present scientism, but against the Gnostic poison.”45 Let us attend to what Gnosticism is historically, and contemplate whether or not Gómez is mistaken when speaking of its toxicity.

III

‘Gnosticism’ is the label for numerous currents of thought which are based on the knowledge of divine secrets, that are exclusively reserved for an elite. Gnosticism calls for salvation through a higher awareness that is obtained by way of an internal enlightenment. Here we see a so-called ‘self-redemption.’ Gnosticism developed in the second and third century after the birth of Christ in the eastern provinces of the Roman Empire. It is a syncretic creature which combines many elements common to Hellenic philosophy as well as Judaism and Christianity. The rise of the main current of Gnosticism (whose creators include Basilides of Alexandria, Valentinus of Phrebonis and Marcion of Sinope) is preceded by a pre-Christian gnosis, for example, the Judaic apocalyptic of Qumran, various exotic doctrines of Iranian and Indo-Iranian origin, specific currents of Orphism, as well as neo-Pythegorianism and Platonism.

dav4.jpgThe geneology of Gnosticism is not foreign to Gómez: “the birth of gnosis can evidently be traced to the pre-Christian era, yet its poison has evolved in the shadow of Christianity.”46 Thus the Bogotán ceases to associate Platonism – to which he is endeared – with Gnosticism and directs his suspicions towards Stoicism47 – which he despises: “The Greek roots of Gnosticism spätantike are not found in Platonic dualism but in Stoic monism.”48

Returning to the general principles of Gnosticism, a closer inspection reveals that it can be characterised by the belief in Man’s god-like nature, and while he is often oblivious to this supposed nature, he nonetheless labours to obtain knowledge thereof. According to Gnosticism, the gnostic who thus labours, as well as the divine essence and the gnosis through which knowledge of it is sought, are all consubstantial.49 In other words, the divine aspect of Man’s personality is “dormant” until the moment that the redemptive gnosis has been attained, until the moment that Man becomes aware of his divine essence. In this context, Gómez observes that “the awareness of the Gnostic’s divine nature can be redemptive only when it is the deed of the subject50 when the subject recognises within himself a redeemed being. | Gnosis is idolatry.”51 Thus the continuation of Gnosticism is the Enlightenment and its rationalist programmes: “Only ignorance imprisons the divine nature of Man. This divine nature remains in a state of Fall [i.e. “dormancy” as per ibid.] until it has attained awareness of its divinity. Aufklärung [i.e. Enlightenment] is the careful exposition of Gnosis.”52 “Rationalism is the official sobriquet of Gnosticism.”53 According to the Author of the Scholia, Enlightenment’s faith in progress is connected to the auto-deification of Man: “‘Progress’ is the name of a process in which salvator-salvandus54 restores its Fallen divinity.”55 I believe that on the same philosophical56 basis, it would be appropriate to elucidate Gómez’s antipathy towards Hegel: “Goethe is a pantheist. Hegel is a Gnostic | Pantheism is a slope, only Gnosticism is a cliff edge”57 and “Nietzsche is barely uncivil – Hegel is blasphemous.”58 Now, we may come to learn what the Bogotán believes to be the difference between pantheism and Gnosticism. He writes that:

Because the substance of the matter which is to be understood directly is more important than its form, we need to differentiate naturalist mysticism and personal mysticism from theistic mysticism: likewise we need to differentiate the experience of a pristine world and the experience of the eternal ‘I’ from the experience of the reality of God.
Theistic mysticism is not susceptible to corruption. While naturalistic mysticism degenerates to pantheism, as the ecstatic awareness identifies the pure act of creation with the splendour of the Creator. Moreover, personal mysticism degenerates into Gnosticism, where one is steeped in self-awareness identifies the eternal soul with the perennial God.
The pantheistic attitude is less sinful than Gnostic attitudes because, in the former, Man’s pride is engulfed in the divine conflagration [i.e. of life]. However, an erroneous interpretation of mystic experience leads to a repetition of the sacrilegious.59

Gnostics believe that primordial Man is enslaved by the Demiurge and his worldly powers, as well as his flesh which is the prison of the divine spirit. Thus, redemption occurs by way of liberation from the mundane world and the corporeal flesh. “The Gnostic deification of the soul occurs when the merger of Neoplatonism and Mazdaism automatically results in the unification of Evil and materialism.”60

dav7.jpgIn the second century A.D., Gnosticism was customarily concerned with the Fall of the divine entity; Manicheanism, associated with the gnostic dualist religious currents begotten by Mani in the third century A.D., concerned itself with the duality of and struggle between Good and Evil. After contact with Christianity, Gnosticism assumed the religious elements of Judaism and Christianity, e.g. revelation per se, and in particular the revelation of Christ and the revelation contained in the Scriptures. In the womb of Christianity, Gnosticism stimulates numerous heresies (e.g. Valentinius of Phrebonis and his disciples). Manichaeism is presented as a continuation of Gnosticism, and the inheritors of both currents are the Pualines, Bogomils and Cathars. Gómez does not fully agree with this classification and seems to contradict it, as he earlier writes in Textos I:

Paulinism is closer to the Marcionite doctrines than the Manichean, therefore, as with Bogomilism and equally as in Catharism, Gnostic elements are likely the result of a contamination resulting from the blending of the two.
Gnosticism crystallises on the conventicles of the ‘free spirit’ and Amalric pantheism.61

In any case, the subject of Gnosticism is the attainment of secret knowledge, and its aim is an Enlightenment which is achieved through the revelation of mystic knowledge, where such revelation thus becomes the objects of secret wisdom. Gnostics derive this wisdom from Christ and his prophets, in opposition to faith (in particular Christian faith). Gnosis evolves in centres of Christian communities, particularly within those in which adherents to foreign beliefs can be encountered (Ephesus, Syria and Alexandria). The secret wisdom of Gnosis stands in opposition to naturalism, occultism and the magic of Christian Revelation. Its goal is the exaltation of Man’s hidden natural powers, the demotion of Christ to the role of but one in many unique historic individuals. In this context, it is worth noting Hebrew Docetism, i.e. the questioning Christ’s apparent humanity. Gómez clarifies: “Docetism takes as its beginning not the disdain to matter, but in the desperate need for the transformation of the Redemptor into a mundane vehicle of revelation. | Christ does not redeem Docetism, he evokes it.”62

Syrian Gnosis (centred in Antioch) derives from Simon Magus of Samaria (described by the Fathers of the Church as ‘the Father of all Heresies’). Simon claims that fire is the primordial principle (God acts through fire – reminiscent of the Burning Bush). This God-Fire is no simple concept. It is constituted by two elements: the male (mind) and feminine (thought). From God come the six roots of the Eons (cosmic powers) as well as a seventh, which is present in all, a power known as ‘Father’. The Father begets the world and the reigning six Eons, and a seventh power, which is the ‘Spirit’. According to Simon Magus, matter is not created, it is eternal and shaped by the Demiurge, who is an Angel sent by the Highest God. While Man is formed by Good as well as Evil powers, and thus is naturally corrupted, he is in need of redemption. Simon holds that the world requires redemption though the male element (himself) and the female element (Helen, a prostitute from Tyre63). Historically, this study leads to a moral laxity and the savagery of custom. In this context, it is worth noting that Gómez suggests that obscenity is a motif in Gnostic history: “The Gnostic is susceptible to liturgical profanity, because the sacrum unilaterally contradicts his divinity. | Sacrilegious obscenity is his favourite act. | One of the Gnostic Evangelia is authored by de Sade.”64

Menander, a student of Simon Magus, announces that the world was created by Angels, and enmity reigns between them and Man. Man learns magic from the primordial Absolute65 so as to conquer the Angels, with the aim of achieving redemption. A disciple of Menander was Basilides of Alexandria (second century A.D.). Basilides transplants Syrian gnosis from Antioch to Alexandria. There it merges with the Hebrew Kabbalah and Egyptian wisdom. In the opinion of this Gnostic, within the essence of all can be found the ‘god who isn’t’, and from him emanate numerable Eons. In this science, all emanates from providence: redemption and Evil. The source of all sin is Man’s impulse. Evil,66 and in particular suffering, are substantiated in Man’s previous life. Thus we encounter the concept of pre-existential spiritualism. The soul is capable of recognising and intuitively conceptualising reality.

Isidore of Alexandria, son and disciple of Basilides, is an advocate for amoralism and the total freedom of being. He believes that since redemption is certain, one can do what one pleases, whatever one desires. Gómez thus connects the lawlessness of the Gnostics with the lawlessness of the Revolutionists: “The Gnostic is a born Revolutionary, where the act of an absolute and unreserved rejection is the perfect method through which one announces one’s divine autonomy.”67 According to the Bogotán, the Revolution reached its peak during modernity: “The French Revolution was the highest watermark of the Gnostic tide”68 and “[n]o subsequent Revolution is the result of a new definition of ‘Man’ | All such subsequent Revolutions constitute a reiterated development of the Gnostic definition in changing circumstances.”69 Carpocrates of Alexandria and his son Epiphanes took Isidor’s conceptualisation of immoralism to an extreme. Moreover, they were characterised by their hatred of the Hebrew God. In their vision, Jesus, the natural son of Joseph and Mary, recalled his earlier incarnation and spread hostility aimed at Hebrew laws and customs. Epiphanes claims, that – in the pursuit of redemption – one must sate all manifestations of sensual pleasure and debauchery. Thus Gómez see the anti-Hebraic nature of Gnosticism: “The Gnostic is inevitably anti-Semitic since he must degrade the Creator to the level of the Demiurge.”70

dav5.jpgAnother famous Gnostic is Valentine, who studied Platonism and the secret wisdom of Egypt in Alexandria, and who attended Isidore’s lectures. He established two schools: the Eastern (Alexandria) and the Italian (Rome). The Eastern School interprets the Book of Genesis and the Evangelia, and develops the theory of the Eons which emanate in primordial pairs (Jesus is here one of the greatest Eons). There is a fundamental difference between the ‘good god’ (the Most High primordial Absolute71) and the Demiurge of the world. Equally, Man is represented dualistically. Within him co-exist two elements: the first, originating from the Evil Demiurge and his Angels (impulses are the bad spirits); the second originate from the ‘good god’. Redemption is necessary. It is made possible through the revelation of Jesus Christ. The Eastern School speaks of three types of Man:

  1. Hylic, the seat of the Devil;
  2. Psychic, who have faith but no knowledge (these are capable of choice, to become either Hylic or Pneumatic); and
  3. Pneumatic, who have attained perfect knowledge (gnosis) and are certain to achieve redemption (redemption comes from their nature).

According to this teaching, Jesus’s corporeal form is only phenomenal [i.e. momentarily apparent] animated by the pneumatic soul, and comes to redeem the Psychic type. The Italian School speaks about the meandering wisdom which begets knowledge, and the Fire which – at the End Times – comes forth from the Earth and consumes all matter, along with the Hylic type. In due course of these considerations, Gómez again warns against pride and recommends faith and scepticism: “Scepticism and Faith solely inoculate against Gnostic Pride. | He who does not believe in God, may gracefully lose his faith in himself.”72 Gómez equally reveals his attitude to theological-philosophical speculation: “Where the sceptic does not smile, his metaphysics dissolve into Gnostic speculation.”73

Cerdo (the Syrian) was another well-known Gnostic of the ancient world. He underlines the dualism of the spirit and matter. He juxdeposes the ‘good god’ (the Father of Jesus Christ, the God of the Evangelia) and the god of justice and cruelty (the God of the Old Testament). Marcion, the son of the Bishop of Sinope, was a student of Cerdo. Excluded from the Church (144 A.D.) for advocating heretical beliefs, he founded a Gnostic church in Rome which existed up until the first half of the fifth century. In the context of the Marconite heresy, one can notice that Gómez takes a position in respect to the relationship of Gnosticism and Christianity:

Gnosticism and Christianity, starting from the same origins, move in opposite directions.
On the basis of a common definition of the human condition, the Christian draws the conclusion that he has been created, the Gnostic, that he is a creator.74

Furthermore:

Christianity and Gnosticism concern themselves with the same subject matter. The feeling of ‘alienation’ was a common experience.
The state of ‘alienation’ is an historical constant, however it becomes more acute in times of social crisis.
‘Alienation’ is the abstract territory, within which either the romantic-Christian or the democratic-Gnostic answers arise.75

The ultimate answers provided by the Christian and Gnostic are radically at odds. The Bogotán provides an emblematic example: “‘Justice’ is a Gnostic concept. | It is sufficient for the fallen deity to assert its proprietary interest. | We Christians ask for mercy.”76

Marcion writes that the Biblical God, the Demiurge, is Evil and is opposed by the ‘good’ God of the Evangelia. This Gnostic advocates a severe puritanism and ascetics. His Docetist doctrine presents the flesh as the repulsive creation of the Demiurge, and rejects His Resurrection. Here, Christ is not prophesised by the Holy Scripture as the Messiah, and the baptism is reserved solely to the unmarried and eunuchs. Many contemporary Gnostic sects hold that Christ is a purely spiritual entity who liberates the soul, which derives from God but is imprisoned by the Evil Demiurge in the sensual world. Although researches consider that anthropological dualism is common to Gnosis and Neoplatonism, Gómez holds that “Gnosticism can be dualist or monist. | Gnosticism is a theory that concerns itself with the nature of the soul.”77 The dominant current of later Gnosticism held that reality is the deed of a free and radically Evil Power.

A particular expression of this idea is the doctrine of Manicheanism, which arose in the third century through the work of Mani of Ctesiphon. In its infancy, it encountered many religious traditions (in Persia, India and China) and later held that it completed the revelations of Zoroaster, Buddha, Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses and Jesus. It speaks of two gods, two great and vying creative powers. Each deed of the Evil divinity is contradicted by a deed of the Good divinity. The conflict will come to an end when the Good divinity vanquishes his Evil opponent. Thus, Gnosticism – equally as the religion of democracy – is a relevant phenomenon.

IV

The following are representative of contemporary Gnosticism: New Age, National Socialism, Marxism Leninism and the Psychoanalysis of Jung.78 These fanatical and anti-Christian currents are concerned with the liberation of Man by Man. The author of the Scholia writes that “the Gnostic soteriology ferments in the multiplicity of all modern sects.”79 Moreover, he directs our attention to another aspect of contemporary Gnosticism, i.e. to contradict the lessons of Original Sin: “The dogma of Man’s natural goodness is expressed with the assistance of ethical terminology that is central to the experience of the Gnostic. | Man is naturally good because he is naturally divine.”80

Given the history and characteristics of Gnosticism, let us recall what Nicolás Gómez Dávila has to say about democracy in his Scholia to an Implicit Text. Namely, he determines that democracy is not only a political fact, but also a religion. It is a religion in which Man takes the place of God. The thinker describes this as a “metaphysical perversion”81 and highlights its Gnostic and Satanic background. In the opinion of the Author of the Scholia, contemporary Man behaves as if he were sovereign and as if he alone were capable of deciding questions of Good and Evil, Truth and Falsity, Beauty and Ugliness. A consequence of this worldview and attitude is that the modern world is a spectacle of iniquity.

To Gómez Dávila, democracy is an “Empire of lies”82 in which the masses are hypnotised by pro-liberal propaganda, while terror and slavery reign. The main vehicle of despotic governance is the rule of positivist law83 and a bureaucracy which rapidly becomes its own objective. Bureaucracy oppresses, and its excess are naturally repellent.84 The resulting falsity and disgust felt towards democracy among those who are so repelled is particularly apparent during elections, when democrats commit the most egregious frauds to flatter the masses. This leads to a situation where the masses are bribed with the “promise of another’s property”85 as well as selling one’s self “to the wealthy, for cash | to the poor, in installments.”86 Democratic politicians are ultimately simple frauds who “benefit from their robbery.”87 Thus the thinker believes that “among those popularly elected, those worthy of respect are only the imbeciles – the intelligent man, on the other hand, to be elected, must lie.”88 Moreover, “[w]here those popularly elected do not belong to the lowest intellectual, moral and social class, we can be certain that anti-democratic forces interfered with the natural progress of the democratic process.”89 As a consequence, Dávila further adds that “[i]n a democracy, the ‘Man of principle’ is worth barely a little more [i.e. than the democratic Man].”90

Generally, Gómez Dávila considers politics – as a typically democratic activity – as a “necessary Evil” and “a subordinate activity.”91 In the eyes of the Bogotán Recluse, democracy principally demoralises Man. Not just because of the persistent and enduring culture of falsehood, but also due to the inevitable temporariness of all laws, regulations and political arrangements. Thus, only the unscrupulous are capable of reaching the heights of democratic society, which in turn deepens the corruption of the masses.

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The immediately obvious reason for this is because the ruling elite of a democracy cannot pass any reform without guaranteeing their electoral support. Meanwhile, a majority of the electors are unable to truly appreciate the issues on which they are to decide, either directly or indirectly. These characteristic contradictions of the democratic process and democratic man precipitate numerous crises: “the more serious the problem, the greater the number of incompetents who democracy calls upon to provide solutions.”92 Moreover, Gómez Dávila notes that in a democracy there are numerous matters which it is not permitted to raise in public: “race, social illness, the climate of the times, all appear to be corrosive substances [to the democratic status quo].”93 For example, equality is incessantly discussed among the demos. However, the author of the Scholia holds that “people are less equal than they say, but more than they think,” and “if people were to be born equal, they would invent inequality to kill the boredom.”94 He adds that “hierarchy is heavenly”95 and the truly equal are only those condemned to hell.

It is therefore unsurprising that Nicolás Gómez Dávila considers the word “democrat” to be a uniquely pejorative epithet: “the uplift that is felt before Greek literature and art obscures [i.e for future generations] the true nature of Greek Man: jealous, traitorous, sportsman, democrat and deviant.”96 The Columbian, whose work shows him to be the friend of genuine diversity and plurality, cannot in any way accept the presence of the democrat [i.e. due to the democrat’s levelling tendency]. Thus, he arrives to the conclusion that the “height of reactionary wisdom would depend on finding a place even for the democrat.”97

If we realise that the Columbian philosopher is above all the implacable enemy of a progress which is typical for the democrat, as well as his idolatrous worship of science and technology, then it becomes clear that his only response to the modern era is total isolation and solitude. Gómez Dávila is aware of the consequences of these beliefs, and is ready to face them. To him, this is the price of independence and integrity.98 He writes: “The struggle against the modern world must be carried out in solitude. | Where there are two, there is treachery.”99

– Krzysztof Urbanek is a scholar of the work of Nicolás Gómez Dávila and has dedicated his career to translating the work of the Colombian reactionary thinker from Spanish into Polish. His latest work is the 1054 page volume Scholia do Tekstu Implicite (Warsaw: Furta Sacra, 2014).

Endnotes:

  1. Furta Sacra Publishing

    [This is a translation from a draft of the original Polish unpublished manuscript by Dr. Krzysztof Urbanek of Furta Sacra publishing, dated 14 April 2016. The translator’s editorial comments are contained within parentheses in the body of the text and footnotes that follow.]

  2. [Throughout this article, Dr. Urbanek will refer to Nicolás Gómez Dávila as the “Author” (of the cited works) or as the “Bogotán” or “Bogotán Recluse” (Dávila being a native of Bogotá, Columbia), the “Thinker”, “Catholic Thinker” or “Philosopher”. These are used interchangeably. N.b., Dávila also referred to himself as “Don Colacho”.]
  3. Nicolás Gómez Dávila, Escolios a un Texto Implícito (Bogotá: Villegas Editores, 2005).
  4. Revista del Colegio Mayor de Nuestra Señora del Rosario, Vol 81 No. 542 (April June 1988).
  5. The writer relies on the Spanish language edition of the work: Nicolás Gómez Dávila, Textos (Barcelona: Atalanta, 2010 [Bogotá: Editorial Voluntad, 1959]) pp. 55−84.
  6. Nicolás Gómez Dávila, Scholia do Tekstu Implicite, Krzysztof Urbanek (trans.) (Warsaw: Furta Sacra, 2014) p. 105. [Dr. Urbanek’s original text, which is his translation from the Spanish, reads “Każdy pisarz komentuje w nieskończoność swój krótki tekst pierwotny”. The Spanish original was not available to the translator. For the most recent publication of Dávila’s work in English, Anglophone readers are directed to the bilingual edition of his selected aphorisms: Nicolás Gómez Dávila, Scholia to an Implicit Text (Bogotá: Villegas Editores, 2013). An online archive of English translations of Dávila’s work is located at the “Don Cloacho’s Aphorisms webpage”, <don-colacho.blogspot.com> (accessed 30 April 2016).]
  7. Dávila, Textos, op. cit. p. 59.
  8. [i.e. that communism best exemplifies the religious nature of democratic ideology.]
  9. Dávila, Textos, op. cit. p. 60.
  10. Ibid.
  11. Ibid.
  12. Ibid.
  13. Ibid. p. 61.
  14. Ibid. p. 62.
  15. Ibid.
  16. Ibid.
  17. Ibid. p. 62-63.
  18. Ibid. p. 63.
  19. Ibid.
  20. Ibid. p. 64.
  21. Ibid.
  22. Ibid. p. 69.
  23. Ibid. p. 71.
  24. Ibid. p. 72.
  25. Ibid.
  26. Ibid. p. 73.
  27. Ibid. p. 74.
  28. Ibid. p. 75.
  29. Ibid. p. 76.
  30. Ibid. p. 77.
  31. Ibid.
  32. Ibid. p. 78.
  33. Ibid. p. 79.
  34. Ibid. p. 80.
  35. Ibid. p. 81.
  36. [This is an interpretive translation of Dr. Urbanek’s phraseology. The original text reads: “Burżuazja zaś świadomie wybiera państwo laickie, aby nie musieć konfrontować „swoich kombinacji” z „wtrętami aksjologicznymi”.” The phrase “swoich kombinacji” is taken to mean the mendacity and craftiness of modern Man’s subjective whims, and the “wtrętami aksjologicznymi” is literally translated as an “interfering axiology”. The distinction being drawn by Dr. Urbanek between the two terms is greater than the mere opposition between the subjective and the objective; what is being described is the inversion of the Divine (or natural) order.]
  37. Dávila, Textos, op. cit. p. 81.
  38. Ibid.
  39. Ibid.
  40. Ibid. p. 82.
  41. Ibid. p. 83.
  42. [This is an interpretative translation of Dr. Urbanek’s text. The original words are: “Gómez pisze o znudzeniu i okrucieństwie człowieka, naśladującego wszechmoc Boga.” A literal translation may suggest that the boredom and cruelty of Man is a result of Man’s imitation of God; however, a clearer translation requires the interpolation, into the original text, that the boredom and cruelty is a function of the failed imitation, and furthermore, that any imitation of God is an exercise doomed to failure. Thus, all attempts to deify Man will deaden the individual spirit and dehumanise society. Taken in its context, this is understood to be the intended meaning of Dr. Urbanek’s original text.]
  43. [Here, the total reactionary rebellion – “totalna reakcyjna rebelia” – is the radical rejection of, and departure from, the deification of Man, or in other words, the return to a transcendent and hierarchical paradigm (social, moral and individual) which is antithetical to the demotic ideologies of the eighteenth through to the twentieth centuries. For more on this, see: “Transcendence and the Aristocratic Principle: ‘Throne and Altar’ as Essential Criteria for Civilisation and National Particularism; Defence Against Demotic Tyranny” in Aristokratia III (2015)]
  44. There is only one direct critique of Gnosticism in the two considerable volumes of the Scholia to an Implicit Text. See further: Nicolás Gómez Dávila, Scholia, Urbanek (trans.) op. cit. pp. 305-306.
  45. Ibid. p. 819.
  46. Ibid. p. 914.
  47. “Decidedly, Stoicism is the cradle of all error | (Deification of Man, determinism, natural law, egalitarianism, cosmopolitanism, etc. etc.)” (Ibid. p. 402).
  48. Dávila, Scholia, Urbanek (trans.) op. cit. p. 770.
  49. [This is an interpretive translation of Prof. Urbanek’s original text, which reads “Gnostycyzm mówi o identyczności poznającego, czyli gnostyka, poznawanego, czyli boskiej substancji, i środka poznania, czyli gnozy.” The word “identyczności” may be literally interpreted as “identicality” however “consubstantial” is used for the sake of grammatical clarity. The translator understands this passage to convey the notion that the relationship between the three concepts – the Gnostic, the divine essence and gnosis itself – is to be interpreted in an almost Trinitarian manner. The text that follows is of an elucidatory nature and its translation does not raise any caveats.]
  50. [i.e. when the animating intention to seek and achieve awareness comes from within the individual seeking gnostic redemption.]
  51. Dávila, Scholia, Urbanek (trans.) op. cit. p. 769.
  52. Ibid. p. 776.
  53. Ibid. p. 739.
  54. “Savior-saved” [likewise, Dr. Urbanek’s translation in his original Polish text is “zbawiający-zbawiany.”]
  55. Dávila, Scholia, Urbanek (trans.) op. cit. p. 774.
  56. [Dr. Urbanek uses the word “ideowym” which may readily be translated as “ideological”, however, the term “philosophical” is better suited for the English translation in the context of a reactionary critique of modernity.]
  57. Dávila, Scholia, Urbanek (trans.) op. cit. p. 775.
  58. Ibid. p. 1051.
  59. Ibid. p. 735.
  60. Ibid. p. 817.
  61. Ibid. p. 819.
  62. Ibid. p. 818.
  63. Thus, one may locate the historical basis for an interpretation of the following text of the Scholia: “Modern Man always discovers his soul in a filthy place – such as the paradigmatic brothel in Tyre” (Ibid. p. 775).
  64. Dávila, Scholia, Urbanek (trans.) op. cit. p. 770.
  65. [Dr. Urbanek’s original text is “Jednia” or “Oneness.”]
  66. Meanwhile, it seems that Gómez has failed to notice the Gnostic interest in Evil, when he writes: “The Gnostic does not ask as per Tertullian: Undem alum? but: Unde Ego?” (I am here, I am faultless) [Prof. Urbanek’s Polish translation reads: “Ja tutaj! Ja doskonały!”] (Dávila, Scholia, Urbanek (trans.) op. cit. p. 818).
  67. Dávila, Scholia, Urbanek (trans.) op. cit. p. 770.
  68. Ibid. p. 773.
  69. Ibid. p. 790.
  70. Ibid. p. 913.
  71. [Dr. Urbanek’s original words read: “prajednia najwyższa” which can be literally translated as the “primordial oneness that is most high.” Here, the treatment of the original text complies with the earlier translation at n 65 supra, adjusted for grammatical clarity.]
  72. Dávila, Scholia, Urbanek (trans.) op. cit. p. 776. [Prof. Urbanek’s original words, in the last line, read: “Kto nie wierzy w Boga, może zdobyć się na tyle przyzwoitości, by nie wierzyć w siebie.”]
  73. Dávila, Scholia, Urbanek (trans.) op. cit. p. 701. [The term “smile” here is understood to indicate a disposition of the spirit which is akin to a gracious and humble scepticism, being self-aware of one’s limitations, a sincere and honest ability to approach that which is doubtful or not readily understood, not allowing one’s self to be carried by a wounded ego, a certain levity of heart which reflects and informs one’s intellect and moral attitude.]
  74. Dávila, Scholia, Urbanek (trans.) op. cit. p. 769.
  75. Ibid. p. 773.
  76. Ibid. p. 774.
  77. Ibid. p. 819. See Gómez further: “The core of Pelagianism is the Gnostic definition of the soul” (Ibid. p. 818).
  78. See further: Witold Myszor (ed.) Gnostycyzm Antyczny i Współczesna Neognoza [“The Gnosticism of Antiquity and Contemporary Neognosticism”] (Warsaw: Akademię Teologii Katolickiej, 1996). [This work is unavailable in English translation.]
  79. Dávila, Scholia, Urbanek (trans.) op. cit. p. 648.
  80. Ibid. p. 818.
  81. Ibid. p. 587.
  82. Ibid. p. 315.
  83. [Dr. Urbanek’s original words read: “władza sądownicza” which literally translates as the “rule” – in a negative sense, as in the tyranny – of the judicial class or law courts.]
  84. Dávila, Scholia, Urbanek (trans.) op. cit. p. 480.
  85. Ibid. p. 126.
  86. Ibid. p. 621.
  87. Ibid. p. 985.
  88. Ibid. p. 974.
  89. Ibid. p. 978.
  90. Ibid. p. 893.
  91. Ibid. p. 409.
  92. Ibid. p. 39.
  93. Ibid. p. 638.
  94. Ibid. p. 516.
  95. Ibid. p. 564.
  96. Ibid. p. 1033.
  97. Ibid. p. 683. [Emphasis added by the translator. This is interpreted as an expression of Dávila’s Catholic charity and sense of inclusivity, that he would express a desire to locate a place even for the sacrilegious element.]
  98. [Dr. Urbanek’s original word is “bezkompromizowności” which translates literally as the state of no compromise on principal. Here it is translated for the sake of brevity as “integrity.”]
  99. Dávila, Scholia, Urbanek (trans.) op. cit. p. 482.

Citation Style:

This article is to be cited according to the following convention:

Krzysztof Urbanek, “Adversus Haereses: Nicolás Gómez Dávila Against the Religion of Democracy” Edwin Dyga (translator) SydneyTrads – Weblog of the Sydney Traditionalist Forum (30 April 2016) <sydneytrads.com/2016/04/30/2016-symposium-krzysztof-urbanek> (accessed [date]).

jeudi, 28 avril 2016

Intégrisme, fondamentalisme et modernité

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Intégrisme, fondamentalisme et modernité

La modernité tardive voit la victoire d’Hermogène sur Cratyle dans l’antique gigantomachie autour de la nature et du sens des mots. Il ne faut donc pas s’étonner que ce sens n’ait plus de sens, que la parole se fasse gratuite et pur jeu, que l’inexactitude, l’erreur, le mensonge deviennent des ruses légitimes pour défendre sa vérité. À nous de ramasser, dans la boue, l’étendard du cratylisme et d’avoir le souci du mot juste.

De plus en plus souvent dans le discours médiatique, politique et, plus malheureusement encore, universitaire, les mots intégrisme et fondamentalisme, comme leur dérivés, sont utilisés comme s’ils étaient, peu ou prou, interchangeables. Parfois, ils sont accolés l’un à l’autre pour qualifier, toujours péjorativement, un même objet qui est donc supposé être les deux à la fois. En d’autres occasions, ils sont associés pour dénoncer une même réalité rencontrée dans des religions distinctes. L’extrémisme — autre mot malmené et abusé — est toujours intégriste quand il est catholique et fondamentaliste quand il est musulman. De la confusion des mots pour le décrire découle la mécompréhension du monde qui, n’étant pas une incompréhension, mais une mauvaise compréhension, s’avère infiniment plus dangereuse car lourde de certitudes erronées et grosses de décisions absurdes.

Origine et sens

Pourtant, dans la langue française où les parfaits synonymes sont rares, l’existence de deux mots implique celle de deux significations. Le sens d’un mot réside tout à la fois dans son origine et dans son usage, c’est-à-dire dans son inscription dans le temps. Tournons-nous, sans ambition philologique excessive, vers nos deux termes pour voir ce qu’il en est les concernant. Tout d’abord, regardons ce qu’ils ont de commun. Tous deux apparaissent au XIXe siècle pour désigner au sein du monde chrétien catholique ou protestant les opposants au modernisme. Mais les similarités s’arrêtent là.

L’intégrisme, terme auquel ses tenants, souvent français, préféraient celui de « catholicisme intégral », désigne le refus dans les années 1880 d’accepter la nécessité, plus que la licéité, des concessions faites par l’Église au monde. Il s’agit alors d’affirmer que l’Église est un bloc auquel on ne touche pas impunément. La question n’est pas celle de la préservation d’une Église immuable et parfaite, mais d’assurer que ses évolutions s’opèrent à partir des nécessités internes. L’Église doit croître comme un être vivant, pousser comme un arbre et n’être mue que par sa Nature propre, non être sculptée comme un corps inerte par des forces externes. Le modernisme est rejeté radicalement, structurellement et en tant que tel parce qu’il pose la supériorité ontologique du nouveau sur l’ancien ; mais le nouveau n’est rejeté que ponctuellement, lorsqu’il n’est ni apte ni légitime à remplacer ce qui est déjà.

Le fondamentalisme est né dans le monde protestant américain en réaction au libéralisme théologique. Il posait cinq « fundamentals » (lors de la conférence biblique de Niagara de 1895) qui ne pouvaient faire l’objet d’aucune concession. Or, le premier d’entre eux était l’inerrance biblique à comprendre au sens le plus strict, c’est-à-die une absence totale d’erreur dans les Écritures. Du coup, le fondamentalisme comme adhésion aux fondamentaux est devenu une religion du fondement scripturaire réduit au sens littéral et, dans un contexte protestant, accessible à tous sans qu’une médiation ne soit nécessaire. L’origine du christianisme devient son but.

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Temps et temporalité

Intégrisme et fondamentalisme désignent donc bel et bien deux choses distinctes. D’un point de vue philosophique, ces termes indiquent des rapports au temps antagonistes. Pour le fondamentaliste, le temps est le mensonge qui nous sépare du Vrai. Le Vrai a été donné aux hommes en un instant t. Mais si le temps est une droite (ou un cercle voire une surface, peu importe), le point géométrique de l’instant t n’est pas du temps. Le temps est toujours ce qui nous sépare de lui et tout ce qui le peuple − les événements, les monuments, les hommes, en un mot l’histoire − est donc un obstacle, non pas seulement inutile, mais nuisible. Il faut abattre tout cela, le gommer, le nier, l’oublier.

Toute la diversité au sein des fondamentalismes tient 1. à l’attitude à adopter à l’égard de ses obstacles — de la destruction matérielle à la négation spirituelle — et 2. aux critères fixés pour déterminer où commence le mensonge. Sans doute est-ce là que la variation est la plus grande. Il suffit de voir la définition de l’œcuménisme d’un concile suivant les confessions chrétiennes. Cependant, l’exemple de l’islam est plus parlant encore puisque c’est dans certaines de ses franges que se rencontre la plus grande radicalité. Là, même ce qui est contemporain de Mahomet peut-être considéré comme mensonger et sa destruction, souhaitable.

De son côté, l’intégrisme perçoit le temps comme un moyen nécessaire du déploiement du Vrai. Non seulement le Vrai a été donné aux homme dans une temporalité, mais cette Vérité vit dans le temps et dans les hommes. L’Esprit continue à souffler. Ici, l’exemple catholique s’impose, mais il n’est pas le seul, il s’en faut de beaucoup. L’Église n’y est pas une structure sociale normative dont la finalité est de préserver ce qui est su de la Vérité contre le temps qui passe et ses mensonges. Non, elle est un corps dynamique, elle est la Vérité donnée aux hommes aux temps des prophètes et du Christ, mais qui se donne aux hommes à chaque instant. Bien sûr, tout n’est pas sain en elle. Humaine, elle souffre des maladies et des vices des hommes. Toutefois, presque tout y est saint ou, du moins, sanctifié par l’Histoire, c’est-à-dire par le déploiement de l’Esprit dans le temps.

Crainte et changement

Il découle de cette dernière approche philosophique du temps une angoisse permanente face aux changements, puisque tout changement, bon ou mauvais, est définitif. Une erreur peut, certes, être corrigée, mais elle restera toujours et à jamais une erreur qui aura été commise et qui, de ce seul fait, appartient désormais irrémédiablement à l’histoire. De plus, la correction n’est pas une restitution des choses à leur état antérieur, mais la création d’un nouvel état qui veut s’en approcher. Du point de vue intégriste, toute erreur est appelée à être amendée, dépassée, intégrée, mais jamais effacée. Il faut donc être prudent (au sens aristotélicien).

Tout différent est le sentiment du fondamentalisme. Seuls les fondements (historiques, scripturaires, peu importe) existent à ses yeux. Le reste n’est que mensonge ou illusion dénuée de toute valeur propre. Le changement laisse donc intact l’essentiel et, qu’il soit jugé bon ou mauvais, il n’en reste pas moins révocable ou, plutôt, révoqué avant même d’être opéré, caduque par nature. De ce fait, le changement a, en soi, du bon, puisqu’il remet ce qui est changé à sa place : celle du contingent. Mieux, plus il concerne ce qui est proche du fondement et donc qui peut-être confondu avec lui, mieux c’est. Ainsi donc modernité et fondamentalisme peuvent converger en un même mépris du temps passé. La première au nom de la réalisation révolutionnaire à venir, la seconde au nom de l’origine véridique, toujours menacée d’oubli. Vatican II (le concile et ses suites) en donne l’illustration parfaite puisqu’il est à la fois issu de la volonté de retourner aux sources — aux fondements évangéliques, à la vie évangélique — en se débarrassant de l’Église médiévale et de la tridentine, et du désir d’instaurer un monde meilleur. Ici, le messianisme montre ses deux faces. Les jubés abattus le sont à la fois pour briser le mensonge qui nous sépare, nous autres contemporains, de l’acte fondamental et sacrificiel du Christ sur la Croix et pour (ré)unir le peuple à son Dieu et réaliser la Parousie.

Intégrisme et fondamentalisme, deux pôles inverses, incompatibles, inconciliables, oui, certes. Pourtant, demeure un double paradoxe. Jamais le fondamentaliste n’a le contact qu’il croit avoir aux fondements. Il peut nier le temps, le temps est là ; il peut s’habiller comme les compagnons du prophète, ce sont des Nike qu’il a aux pieds ; il peut se saouler d’alléluia devant son pasteur texan qui baptise dans le Jourdain comme Jean, puis Jésus, le faisaient 2000 ans plus tôt, il n’en est pas moins abonné à Fox News. Or cela, le fondamentaliste ne peut l’entendre. Il en va de son être d’y être sourd. Toute sa tragédie et toutes les violences dont il est porteur en découlent. Mais l’intégriste n’est pas moins tragique car lui aussi est soumis à un terrible paradoxe. Il sait — et sa tragédie est dans cette conscience — qu’il doit toute sa légitimité au Vrai qu’évoquent les fondamentalistes. Pire, il sait que les fondamentalistes sont, aussi, un souffle de l’Esprit. Mais ne souffle-t-il pas là où Il veut ?

mardi, 26 avril 2016

When Men and Mountains Meet: Spiritual Ascent in the Age of Commodification

When Men and Mountains Meet: Spiritual Ascent in the Age of Commodification

“Great things are done when Men & Mountains meet / This is not Done by Jostling in the Street,” wrote William Blake.

The modern world suffocates the soul of humankind. Matter longs for the embrace of soul, just as the unborn is ensheathed in the mother’s womb; and the soul desires the caress of matter, just as a newborn is cradled in the mother’s arms. Every moment is the nondual experience of gestation and birth of soul into matter, matter into soul. Modern life severs this connection as carelessly as the assembly line obstetrician prematurely severs the umbilical cord that still carries vital nutrients from mother to child. We are weighed upon scales imbalanced by ceaseless activity and insidious apathy, our hearts faint with anxiety and our bodies dead with the weight of indifference.

How do we reconnect with the primordial source in a decentered and displaced world?

The spiritual quest of the higher person is the path that leads one on a journey to reunite with divine nature, and there are few greater paths to accelerate this reunification than the experience of the mountains. Amongst the peaks one transforms from a rank-and-file soldier of modernity into a Grail Knight—a golden embryo shining in the dark cosmic womb of creation.

In Meditations on the Peaks, Julius Evola wrote:

In the struggle against mountain heights, action is finally free from all machines, and from everything that detracts from man’s direct and absolute relationship with things. Up close to the sky and to crevasses—among the still and silent greatness of the peaks; in the impetuous raging winds and snowstorms; among the dazzling brightness of glaciers; or among the fierce, hopeless verticality of rock faces—it is possible to reawaken (through what may at first appear to be the mere employment of the body) the symbol of overcoming, a truly spiritual and virile light, and make contact with primordial forces locked within the body’s limbs. In this way the climber’s struggle will be more than physical and the successful climb may come to represent the achievement of something that is no longer merely human. In ancient mythologies the mountain mountain peaks were regarded as the seats of the gods; this is myth, but it is also the allegorical expression of a real belief that may always come alive again sub specie interioritatis.

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Meditations on the Peaks (English translation available from Inner Traditions) is a collection of Evola’s writings on the spiritual quest of mountain climbing. While not free of the commodification of the modern sporting life (one only need to look at the resort towns inviting crass hordes of weekend warriors that contaminate the regions for a reminder), the mountains offer potential for the spiritual conquest of self-overcoming. By training the body, purifying the soul and cultivating a reverence for mortality, one may, with iron will and monumental discipline, ascend the peaks in contemplation of their silent, still and divine majesty.

Evola presents mountain climbing as a Yoga of the scholar and the athlete. The modern world has divided the intellectual and athletic pursuits, creating a false dichotomy of “nerds” and “jocks” that predominates the industrialized West. Either the body atrophies for feint intellectual praise and bourgeois academic prestige, or the mind suffers for the pursuit of empty competition and physical achievement. In this dichotomous framing of brains against brawn, both scholar and athlete lose touch with the metaphysical reality that study and training develops. It is among the peaks where this division is erased. Evola wrote:

[A]mong sports, mountain climbing is certainly the one that offers the most accessible opportunity for achieving this union of body and spirit. Truly, the enormity, the silence, and the majesty of the great mountains naturally incline the soul toward that which is greater than human, and thus attract the better people to the point at which the physical aspect of climbing (with all the courage, the self-mastery and the mental lucidity that it requires) and an inner spiritual realization, become the inseparable and complementary parts of one and the same thing.

At the heart of Evola’s study of the peaks is the eleventh century Tibetan Buddhist sage Milarepa. Credited with the revival of metaphysical doctrine within the Mahayana school of Buddhism, Milarepa’s teachings were known in the form of songs describing episodes of his life that remained within the current of oral tradition until modern times.

One day, Milarepa journeyed into the mountains for ascetic retreat. When six months had passed without seeing their teacher, Milarepa’s disciples had assumed that he had fallen victim to a brutal snowstorm, caught without food against the unforgiving elements. In their mourning, his disciples made sacrificial offerings prescribed for the dead. When spring arrived, they went to search for him. During their journey, they were astonished when they saw a snow leopard that transformed into a tiger. As they entered the Cave of the Demons, they heard a singing voice that they immediately recognized as their teacher’s. It was Milarepa who had projected the images of the leopard and the tiger, having sensed his disciples approaching. He told his disciples that although he went a long time without food he did not hunger, for he gained sustenance from the offerings they made for him.

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Upon returning home, Milarepa explained how he was able to “endure the elements, the icy temperatures, and raging wind, thus overcoming the invisible forces (the ‘demons’) disguised as snow,” thusly singing:

The snowfall was beyond all measure. Snow covered the Whole mountain and even touched the sky, falling through the bushes and weighing down the trees.

In this great disaster I remained in utter solitude. The snow, the wintry blast, and my thin cotton garment fought against each other on the white mountain. The snow, as it fell on me, turned into drizzle. I conquered the raging winds, subduing them to silent rest.

The cotton cloth I wore was like a burning brand. The struggle was of life and death, as when giants wrestle and sabers clash.

I, the competent yogi, was victorious; my power over the vital heat (tumo) and the two channels was thus shown. By observing the Four Ills caused by meditation and keeping to the inner practice, the cold and warm pranas became the essence. This was why the raging wind grew tame and the storm, subdued, lost its power.

Not even the devas’ army could compete with me. This battle, I, the yogi, won.

These are the harsh conditions one must endure on the merciless path of higher spirituality. Abandoning the world in cosmic isolation, the seeker must withstand the chaotic conditions of an unrestrained cosmos through the power of their own inner flame. It is during times of great peril, whether alone atop a physical mountain or abandoned to the darkest predilections of life, when we must light the fire of our crucible and burn away within. One might be left for dead, but will gain sustenance from the offerings of mourners as the unborn child receives nutrients from the mother. For it is in these most rugged and unforgiving of conditions that we return to the cosmic womb of creation, where all dross and detritus burns away and we emerge purified and renewed.

To this day, Evola remains a controversial figure in metaphysical circles. Mention of his name is enough to incite neo-McCarthyist accusations of fascist tendencies or a mistaken sympathy amongst white national racialists. Owing perhaps to the ever widening gulf between spirit and body, it is near impossible nowadays to balance an admiration for a great scholar’s superlative body of work with a reservation of their difficult political views without finding oneself in the snake pit of guilt by association. As the body is further estranged from the spirit, both will descend into a pit of decadent self-pleasure, and find anathema anything which challenges one to greater heights. Evola’s ideas are dangerous. But, like the mountains, so too is the spiritual quest. As the great mountaineer Reinhold Messner said, “The mountains are not fair or unfair, they are just dangerous.”

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Messner is one of the best exemplars of the discipline cultivated on the path of higher spirituality. He is the first individual on record, along with Peter Habeler, to ascend Mount Everest without supplemental oxygen. Messner is also the first climber to ascend all fourteen of the eight-thousanders, mountains located in the Himalayan and Karakoram ranges with peaks exceeding 8,000 meters (26,247 ft) above sea level. These are peaks that are well above the “death zone,” altitudes where the amount of oxygen is insufficient to sustain human life. Messner’s records are not the same as the medals won by competing athletes; they are physically intangible totems, cairns left on the path toward mastery. Eschewing the commodification of the modern world, Messner is the paragon of peak physical, mental and spiritual development.

The mountains remain a testament of spiritual initiation in the modern era. Populations will grow and disappear, cultures will spread and vanish, and civilizations will rise and fall, but the mountains will keep still for centuries. The timeless stability of the mountains is what has attracted spiritual seekers to them since the dawn of human culture. In this still and silent wilderness, where the body of man is at the mercy of both nature and the gods, we find the foundation to build the inner sanctum. When in the mountains, an ascetic like Julius Evola or a libertine like Aleister Crowley both find the sanctuary they seek. At these altitudes, it matters not what your opinions are or who they offend, but how well you have conditioned the body and trained the mind.

“The mountain requires purity and simplicity,” Evola wrote, “It requires asceticism… In this context, the mountainous peaks and the spiritual peaks converge in one simple yet powerful reality.

Meditations on the Peaks is published by Inner Traditions and available from their website or from Amazon.com and other booksellers.

Andrei Burke is a poet and critic who currently resides in the Los Angeles area. He holds a B.A. in Film and and M.A. in the Humanities. His work has appeared on Ultraculture and WITCH.
Andrei Burke is a poet and critic who currently resides in the Los Angeles area. He holds a B.A. in Film and and M.A. in the Humanities. His work has appeared on Ultraculture and WITCH.

lundi, 25 avril 2016

Intervento M. Rossi "Julius Evola e il terzo Reich"

Intervento M. Rossi "Julius Evola e il terzo Reich" - RigenerAzionEvola.it

Intervento di M. Rossi "Julius Evola e il terzo Reich: la lotta per la visione del mondo"
al convegno "Ripartire da Evola" organizzato da RigenerAzione Evola (www.rigenerazionevola.it).

Maurizio Rossi, analizza i rapporti tra Evola e il Regime nazionalsocialista. Con il suo intervento ne ha messo in luce le sua trasversalità e capacità di visione d’insieme, nonché il suo lavoro su di un piano più metapolitico. Sono note, infatti, le collaborazioni di Evola con il mondo tedesco dell’epoca, tese a propiziare quell’incontro tra le due aquile, ario-romana l’una, nordico-germanica l’altra, che già nel Medioevo ghibellino forgiarono lo spirito della migliore Europa. Anche queste intese mantenevano un respiro più alto, imperiale, e si concretizzarono con la sua collaborazione con numerose pubblicazioni ed interventi negli ambienti culturali del III Reich per cercare di imporre a concetti come “sangue”, “razza”, “suolo”, “comunità” una direzione ed un carattere spirituali, emancipandoli dal grezzo biologismo, strappandoli alla materialità. Altrettanto note sono le diffidenze con cui alcuni ambienti del Regime hitleriano guardarono al Barone, anche a causa della sua capacità di andare oltre gli steccati nazionalisti di un grezzo pangermanismo. C’è comunque da tenere a mente che nel 1943 c’era anche Evola, e pochi altri fidati, nel Quartier Generale di Hitler, ad attendere Mussolini all’indomani della sua liberazione dalla prigionia sul Gran Sasso. Un Evola, quello svelato da Maurizio Rossi, che fu un vero“homo faber”, non solo del suo destino, ma anche di quello dell’Europa dell’epoca.

Leggi di più per approfondire:
http://www.rigenerazionevola.it/e-ora...

dimanche, 06 mars 2016

Tibetan Mysticism, Russian Monarchy, Holy War: von Ungern Sternberg — an Interview With Andrei Znamenski

Tibetan Mysticism, Russian Monarchy, Holy War: von Ungern Sternberg — an Interview With Andrei Znamenski

In People of Shambhala's latest podcast, Andrei Znamenski speaks about Roman von-Ungern-Sternberg, alittle-known but important character in late revolutionary and early-Bolshevik Russia. A fanatical monarchist, von-Ungern-Sternberg wanted to save Russia -- and by extension European and Asian nations -- from Bolshevism and the upheavals of revolution, and sought support for his worldview and militarism in Tibetan mysticism.

Von-Ungern-Sternberg took many wrong ideological turns, and his self-imposed mission ended in failure. Yet, this strange and enigmatic character represents some of the darker aspects of the convergence of the early twentieth century fascination with Tibetan legend, mysticism, and magic with geopolitical aims.

Links:

Andrei Znamenski's YouTube channel:
https://www.youtube.com/user/maguswest

Andrei Znamenski's Amazon profile:
http://www.amazon.com/Andrei-A.-Zname...

Music by Lino Rise (www.linorise.de)
Lino Rise — "Initiate Frame I".

Other links:

Andrei Znamenski’s Amazon profile
MagusWest, Andrei Znamenski’s Youtube channel.

The Beauty of the Primitive by Andrei Znamenski.
Red Shambhala by Andrei Znamenski.
The Bloody Baron by James Palmer.
The Baron’s Cloak by Willard Sunderland.
Buddhists, Occultists and Secret Societies in Early Bolshevik Russia: an interview with Andrei Znamenski

mercredi, 17 février 2016

La doctrina eurasiática del sacrificio

La doctrina eurasiática del sacrificio

Claudio Mutti*

Ex: http://culturatransversal.wordpress.com

Feuerbach_Iphigenie1.jpgEn los Comentarios a la leyenda del Maestro Manole, dedicados al tema del sacrificio en el que se inspira la leyenda rumana de Maestro Manole, Eliade muestra que tal tema está ampliamente difundido en las culturas del continente eurasiático. En una página de este estudio se indica como ejemplar la historia de una heroína que inspiró al autor la más hermosa de sus obras teatrales: Ifigenia (1).

“Ifigenia –escribe Eliade –es sacrificada para que pueda efectuarse la expedición contra Troya. Podríamos decir que Ifigenia adquiere un ‘cuerpo de gloria’ que es la propia guerra, la propia victoria; vive en esta expedición, del mismo modo que la mujer del Maestro Manole vive en el cuerpo de piedra y cal del monasterio” (2). El sacrificio de Ifigenia pertenece por tanto a la categoría de los sacrificios de construcción de los cuales encontramos testimonios de un lado al otro de Eurasia. “Las prácticas y las creencias referentes a los sacrificios de construcción –escribe de hecho el propio Eliade –se encuentran un poco por todas partes en Europa, pero en ninguna parte han dado lugar a una lectura popular comparable a la del Sureste” (3).

Por “Sureste” Eliade entiende la península balcánica, pero las tradiciones populares húngaras nos muestran que una leyenda idéntica a la del Maestro Manole está presente también en la cuenca carpática: la balada de székely de Kömives Kelemen, de hecho, se refiere a la construcción de la ciudadela de Déva, en Transilvania (4). Según Ladislao Bo’ka, “la variante székely es probablemente de origen griego, pero transmitida por los eslavos mediorientales” (5).

En todo caso, “el motivo de una construcción cuyo cumplimiento exige un sacrificio humano encuentra testimonios en Escandinavia, y entre los Fineses y los Estonios, entre los Rusos y los Ucranianos, entre los Germanos, en Francia, en Inglaterra, en España (…) El descubrimiento de esqueletos en los fundamentos de los santuarios y de los edificios del Oriente Próximo antiguo, en la Italia prehistórica y en otros lugares, pone fuera de duda la realidad de tales sacrificios” (6).

Pero entre los hermanos espirituales de la Ifigenia de Eliade no está sólo Maestro Manole: está también el pastorcillo de la balada popular rumana de Mioriţa [La ovejita]. Es algo que  hace observar oportunamente Mircea Handoca, que indica que “la visión de conjunto, los valores y los significados que el escritor atribuye al mito [se sitúan] en un espacio espiritual y miorítico” (7) y llama la atención sobre estas palabras de Ifigenia: “¡He aquí cómo caen los astros en mis nupcias! El murmullo de las aguas, el susurro de los abetos, el gemido de la soledad: ¡todas las cosas son como las he conocido!”. En efecto, el tema de la muerte como casamiento es dominante en las últimas palabras de Ifigenia: “Recordad –dice la heroína de Eliade a Agamenón – es una tarde de nupcias. Ahora, de un momento a otro, seré esposa… ¿Por qué todos han callado y no se oyen ya los cantos serenos de las vírgenes? […]Pero, ¿por qué no se oyen ya cantos de boda? ¿Por qué los invitados no enlazan guirnaldas de flores de colores encendidos y la esposa se ha quedado con el vestido negro del día? […] ¡Traedme el velo de esposa!” Son palabras esencialmente análogas a las del pastorcillo de Mioriţa: “Diles sólo –que me he casado –con una reina –la esposa del mundo; -que en mi boda –ha caído una estrella”. Estudiando la balada de la Ovejita vidente, Eliade dirá que “la muerte asimilada a un matrimonio es [un motivo folclórico] arcaico y hunde sus raíces en la prehistoria” (8).

El tema del sacrificio generador de victoria estaba ya claramente presente en la Ifigenia de Eurípides. “Yo –dice la protagonista de la tragedia en cuestión – vengo a dar a los Griegos una salvación que aportará la victoria. Llevadme, yo soy la que expugnará la ciudad de Ilio y de los Frigios” (9). Por tanto,  no le falta razón a François Jouan cuando ha equiparado la “devotio” (10) de los Romanos al sacrificio de la heroína de Eurípides. Devotio, como se sabe, era en la religión romana la forma particular de votum según la cual el general se inmolaba a sí mismo con el fin de conseguir la victoria en el combate. “Fuerza y victoria” (vim victoriamque) pide a los dioses el cónsul Decio Mure, al mismo tiempo ofreciente y víctima sacrificial (11). Esta concepción del autosacrificio que libera la fuerza y produce la victoria tiene ecos en Racine, que hace decir a su Ifigenia: “La sentencia del destino quiere que vuestra felicidad sea fruto de mi muerte. Pensad, señor, pensad en los sembrados de gloria que la Victoria ofrece a vuestras manos valerosas. Ese campo glorioso, al cual todos vosotros aspiráis, si mi sangre no lo riega, es estéril para vosotros[…] Ya Príamo palidece; ya Troya alarmada teme mi fuego” (12).

En las leyendas referentes a los rituales de construcciones y en las creaciones artísticas inspiradas por el mito de Ifigenia circula por tanto una misma concepción: la que un famoso folclorista ha resumido en estos términos: “El padre (en el caso de Ifigenia) o el marido (en los cantos populares), ofreciendo a la hija o a la mujer, se ofrecen a sí mismos, de ahí que esa sustitución une en el ámbito humano y divino al sacrificante y a la víctima” (13). Pero también este concepto, en definitiva, había ya sido expresado por las Escrituras hindúes: “La víctima (pashu) es sustancialmente (nidânêna) el sacrificante mismo” (14).

1. M. Eliade, Ifigenia (traducción y ensayo de introducción de C. Mutti), Edizioni all’insegna del Veltro, Parma 2010.
2. M. Eliade, Commenti alla leggenda di Mastro Manole, en: M. Eliade, I riti del costruire, Jaca Book, Milán 1990, p. 90. Cfr. M. Eliade, Mastro Manole e il Monastero d’Arges, en Da Zalmoxis a Gengis-Khan, Ubaldini, Roma 1975, pp. 146-168.
3. M. Eliade, Struttura e funzioni dei miti, en Spezzare il tetto della casa, Jaca Book, Milán 1988, p. 74. Para la amplia literatura referente a este tema, véase G. Cocchiara, Il ponte di Arta, en Il paese di Cuccagna, Einaudi, Turín 1956, pp. 84-125. Dado que ni Cocchiara ni Eliade hacen mención de la leyenda ligada a la construcción de los juros de Kazan’ (República Autónoma Tátara), que de 1239 a 1552 fue capital del Canato tártaro, permítaseme remitir a la traducción de la respectiva balada mordovina, en: C. Mutti, Kantele e krez. Antologia del folklore uralico, Arthos, Carmagnola 1979, pp. 60-63.
4. C. Mutti, Canti e ballate popolari ungheresi, Quaderni italo-ungheresi, Parma 1972, pp. 95-104.
5. L. Bóka, Ballate popolari transilvane, “Corvina”, Budapest, octubre 1940.
6. M. Eliade, Struttura e funzioni dei miti, cit., p. 75.
7. M. Handoca, Mitul jertfei creatoare, [Il mito del sacrificio creatore], “Manuscriptum” (Bucarest), a. V, n. 1 (1974).
8. M. Eliade, La pecorella veggente, en Da Zalmoxis a Gengis-Khan, cit., p. 208.
9. “soterìan Héllesi dòsous’ érchomai nikefòron. Ágeté moi tàn Ilìou kaì Frygôn heléptolin” (Iphig. Aulid., 1473-1476).
10. F. Jouan, Notes complémentaires, en: Euripide, Iphigénie à Aulis, Les Belles Lettres, París 1983, p. 152.
11. T. Livio, Ab Urbe condita, VIII, 9.
12. “Et les arrêts du sort – Veulent que ce bonheur soit un fruit de ma mort. – Songez, Seigneur, songez à ces moissons de gloire – Qu’à vos vaillantes mains présente la Victoire. – Ce champ si glorieux, où vous aspirez tous, – Si mon sang ne l’arrose, est stérile pour vous. […] Déjà Priam pâlit. Déjà Troie en alarmes – Redoute mon bûcher” (J. Racine, Iphigénie, 1535-1540, 1549-1550).
13. G. Cocchiara, Il paese di Cuccagna, Einaudi, Turín 1956, p. 120.
14. Aitareya Brahmana, II, 11.

*Claudio Mutti es licenciado en Filologia Finohúngara por la Universidad de Bolonia. Se ha ocupado del área cárpato-danubiana desde un perfil histórico (A oriente di Roma e di Berlino, Effepi, Genova 2003), etnográfico (Storie e leggende della Transilvania, Oscar Mondadori, Milano 1997) y cultural (Le penne dell’Arcangelo. Intellettuali e Guardia di Ferro, Società Editrice Barbarossa, Milano 1994; Eliade, Vâlsan, Geticus e gli altri. La fortuna di Guénon tra i Romeni, Edizioni all’insegna del Veltro, Parma 1999). Entre sus últimas publicaciones están Gentes. Popoli, territori, miti, (Effepi, Genova 2010), L’unità dell’Eurasia (Effepi, Genova 2008), Imperium. Epifanie dell’idea di Impero (Effepi, Genova 2005).

Traducido por Javier Estrada

Fuente: Revista Eurasia

mardi, 16 février 2016

Le cheval solaire dans les steppes de l’Eurasie

 

lundi, 08 février 2016

Les animaux sacrés et leur nom tabou chez les Indo-Européens

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Les animaux sacrés et leur nom tabou chez les Indo-Européens

par Thomas Ferrier

Ex: http://thomasferrier.hautetfort.com

Les Indo-Européens associaient généralement les grands prédateurs, qu’ils admiraient, à leur dieu de la guerre (*Maworts). Deux espèces parmi toutes étaient particulièrement honorées, à savoir l’ours (*ərktos) et le loup (*wlkwos), reconnus pour leur esprit combatif. Les guerriers sacrés du monde germanique se partageaient d’ailleurs entre les Berserkir (guerriers-ours) et les Ulfhednar (guerriers-loups).

Ces animaux étant admirés et en même temps pour les mêmes raisons très craints, les peuples indo-européens connurent une étrange pratique, à savoir tabouiser le nom originel de l’animal, de peur que de l’appeler par son nom véritable ne l’attire. C’est notamment le cas de l’ours.

Son nom indo-européen *ərktos a été conservé au sein de peuples qui n’étaient pas amenés à le côtoyer régulièrement. C’est ainsi que les Grecs continuèrent de l’appeler αρκτος, même si en grec moderne son nom devint féminin (αρκουδα), de même que les Latins l’appelèrent ursus et les anciens Indiens ṛksas (et aussi arménien arj, vieux-perse arša, farsi xers). Plus surprenant encore, les Basques s’approprièrent le nom indo-européen de cet animal sans doute de bonne heure en le nommant hartz.

Le monde celte pour qui l’ours symbolisait la royauté conserva également son nom, en gaulois *artos, en gallois moderne arth, en breton arzh. Le roi Arthur était ainsi un grand roi (ardri) ours alors que Merlin l’enchanteur apparaissait dans le rôle du druide suprême (ardrui).

Mais progressivement le nom de l’animal devint un secret. Ainsi les Ecossais l’appelèrent math « le bon » pour atténuer son légendaire courroux, et les Irlandais modernes le nomment en gaélique béar, qui n’est autre qu’un emprunt à l’anglais bear.

Ce dernier terme est un emprunt aux langues germaniques (anglais bear, allemand Bär, suédois björn) et signifie « le brun ». Les peuples germano-scandinaves en effet craignaient davantage le loup, tout comme en général les peuples du nord, à l’exception des Celtes. En le surnommant par sa couleur, les Germains évitaient ainsi sa rencontre. Ce raisonnement fut exactement le même dans le monde slave, où l’ours devient le « mangeur de miel » (russe медведь), et dans le monde balte où il fut appelé locys en lituanien (lācis en letton), « le lècheur ».

Alors que les Celtes ne semblaient donc pas craindre l’ours, il en fut différemment du loup, plutôt associé au monde des morts. C’est lui qu’ils choisirent de tabouiser. Si le nom gaulois originel du loup fut sans doute *volcos, très vite ce dernier terme fut remplacé par bledos, « le gris ». C’est ainsi qu’en breton le loup est bleiz (cornique bleydh, gallois blaidd, gaélique faol).

Les autres peuples indo-européens en revanche conservèrent tous son nom traditionnel *wlkwos (grec λυκος, latin lupus, scandinave ulfr, sanscrit vṛkas, russe волк, lituanien vilkas, arménien gayl).

Le « brun » et le « gris », associés pourtant défavorablement par exemple dans le Roman de Renart, étaient donc des animaux consacrés à la royauté et à la guerre chez les Indo-Européens. Le Mars romain, dieu des loups, rappelle que les anciennes confréries guerrières (Männerbund) aimaient se comparer à une meute. Le loup, tout comme l’ours, est également un animal-guide. C’est un loup d’acier (gelezinis vilkas) qui guida le roi lituanien Gediminas vers la colline où il devait construire Vilnius, sa future capitale. Quant au mythe de Romulus et Rémus nourris par une louve, cela rappelle l’enfant-loup de la tradition indienne (« Mowgli »).

Songeons aussi à la déesse-ourse, divinité vierge gardienne des forêts et chasseresse, l'Artio celte mais aussi l'Ar(c)témis grecque. Les jeunes filles se déguisaient en ourses au moment du passage à l'adolescence dans la Grèce classique.

Enfin, ce mythe selon lequel Arthur reviendrait d’Avallon ramener la paix sur la Bretagne est évidemment une comparaison avec l’ours qui hiberne dans sa grotte. C’est le thème du « retour du roi » qu’on retrouve aussi dans le monde germanique associé à l’empereur Frédéric.

Thomas FERRIER (Le Parti des Européens/LBTF)

lundi, 01 février 2016

Du mot proto-indo-européen *deywos

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Du mot proto-indo-européen *deywos

par Thomas Ferrier

Ex: http://thomasferrier.hautetfort.com

Qu’est-ce qu’un *deywos, mot qui a abouti au latin deus et au français « dieu » ? D’autres termes pour désigner les divinités ont été employés par les Indo-Européens indivis, à l’instar de *ansus, « esprit divin » [scandinave Ass, indien Asura) ou de *dhesos, « celui qui est placé (dans le temple) » [grec theos] et bien sûr le terme germanique *gutaz désignait « celui qu’on invoque », mais *deywos aura été le plus courant et le mieux conservé puisqu’on le retrouve à peu près partout (gaulois devos, germano-scandinave tyr, balte dievas, sanskrit devas, latin deus, iranien daeva).

La racine de *deywos est bien connue, et on la retrouve dans le nom de *dyeus, le « ciel diurne », à la fois phénomène physique et divinité souveraine. On peut la traduire par « céleste » aussi bien que par « diurne » mais aussi par « émanation de *dyeus ».

La divinité suprême *Dyeus *Pater est en effet l’époux d’une parèdre du nom de *Diwni (« celle de *dyeus ») qui est le nom marital de la déesse de la terre, son épouse naturelle, formant le couple fusionnel dyavaprithivi dans l’Inde védique. Les *Deywôs sont donc les fils de *Dyeus, tout comme les *Deywiyês (ou *Deywâs) sont ses filles.  C’est leur façon de porter le nom patronymique de leur divin géniteur.

Les *Deywôs sont donc par leur nom même les enfants du ciel, ce qui place leur existence sur un plan astral, l’ « enclos des dieux » (le sens même du mot *gherdhos qu’on retrouve dans Asgard, le royaume divin des Scandinaves) étant situé sur un autre plan que le monde des hommes mais placé systématiquement en hauteur, généralement à la cime de la plus haute montagne ou de l’arbre cosmique, ou au-delà de l’océan, dont la couleur est le reflet du ciel bleu, dans des îles de lumière (Avallon, Îles des Bienheureux…).

Mais ils forment aussi une sainte famille, autour du père céleste et de la mère terrestre, l’un et l’autre régnant dans un royaume de lumière invisible aux yeux des hommes. 

Toutefois, le ciel diurne ne s’oppose au ciel de nuit que dans une certaine mesure. Sous l’épiclèse de *werunos, le dieu « du vaste monde » [grec Ouranos, sanscrit Varuna], *Dyeus est aussi le dieu du ciel en général, les étoiles étant depuis toujours les mânes des héros morts, souvenir que les Grecs lièrent au mythe d’Astrée, déesse des étoiles et de la justice, qui abandonna le monde en raison des pêchés des hommes. Astrée elle-même n’était autre que la déesse *Stirona indo-européenne que les Celtes conservèrent sous le nom de Đirona (prononcer « Tsirona ») et que les Romains associèrent à Diane.

Quant à la parèdre de *Dyeus, on la retrouve sous les noms de Diane et de Dea Dia à Rome, de Dziewona en Pologne pré-chrétienne et de Dionê en Grèce classique, celle-là même qu’on donne pour mère d’Aphrodite. De même la déesse de l’aurore (*Ausos) est dite « fille de *Dyeus » [*dhughater *Diwos], terme qu’on retrouve associé à Athéna mais aussi plus rarement à Aphrodite.

*Diwni, l’épouse du jour, devient *Nokwts, la nuit personnifiée. Le *Dyeus de jour cède alors la place au *Werunos de nuit. Tandis que les autres *Deywôs dorment, *Dyeus reste éveillé. L’idée d’un dieu du jour et de la nuit, donc aux deux visages, est à rapprocher du Janus romain, dieu des commencements, époux alors de la déesse de l’année *Yera (Héra) ou de la nouvelle année (Iuno).

Thomas FERRIER (Le Parti des Européens)

19:45 Publié dans Traditions | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : tradition, mythologie, dieux, paganisme, zeus, indo-européens | |  del.icio.us | | Digg! Digg |  Facebook

samedi, 30 janvier 2016

Evola. Philosophie et action directe

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Evola. Philosophie et action directe

par Dominique Venner

Ex: http://zentropa.info

Considéré par certains comme « le plus grand penseur traditionaliste d'Occident », Julius Evola (1898-1974) eut toujours des rapports difficiles avec le MSI tout en exerçant une influence certaine sur les cercles plus radicaux, les FAR en leur temps puis Ordine Nuovo ou Avanguardia Nazionale. Evola s'était tenu en marge du fascisme durant le Ventennio (1922-1943). Malgré ses critiques, il se voulut cependant solidaire de la RSI après 1943. Tenant à la fois de Nietzsche et de Guénon, il cultivait à la façon du premier le mépris de la plèbe et l'éloge du surhomme autoconstruit. Mais il rejoignait René Guénon dans son interprétation de l'histoire comme un processus de décadence et d'involution conduisant, selon la tradition hindoue, au Kali-Yuga, l'âge démoniaque précédant le retour au chaos originel (1). Il était prêt cependant à reconnaître que certaines formes politiques, plus ou moins en accord avec son idée hiératique de la Tradition, pouvaient ralentir le déclin. Telle était son interprétation du fascisme, dans la mesure où celui-ci, par sa tentative de réhabilitation des valeurs héroïques, constituait un défi aux sociétés modernes et à l'homme-masse sans visage.

Aux yeux des militants ou des intellectuels de la jeune génération post-fasciste, Evola présentait l'avantage de procéder à une critique interne vigoureuse du fascisme sans céder à l'antifascisme. Il offrait une « vision du monde » cohérente et sophistiquée, impitoyable pour la modernité, à laquelle il opposait une construction beaucoup plus radicale et absolue que celle du fascisme (2). Condamnait par exemple le nationalisme pour son inspiration « naturaliste », Evola lui opposait « la race de l'esprit » et « l'idée, notre vraie patrie ». Ce qui compte, disait-il, « ce n'est pas d'appartenir à une même terre ou de parler une même langue, c'est de partager la même idée (3) ». Quelle idée ? Celle d'un ordre supérieur, dont la Rome antique, une chevalerie médiévale ou la Prusse avaient été l'expression. Il proposait un style de vie fait de sévérité, de discipline, de dureté, de sacrifice, pratiqué comme une ascèse. Evola n'était pas un pur esprit. Il avait servi dans l'artillerie au cours de la Première Guerre mondiale, et avait été, dans sa jeunesse, un alpiniste émérite, auteur d'admirables Méditations du haut des Cimes. À sa mort, ses cendres furent déposées au sommet du Monte Rosa.

Vers 1950, croyant alors aux chances du MSI, Evola voulut donner une « bible » guerrière aux jeunes militants de ce mouvement : ce fut Les Hommes au milieu des Ruines (*), essai préfacé par le prince Borghese (4). Ses espoirs ayant été déçus, il s'éloigna du MSI et de toute action politique à partir de 1957. Il publia un peu plus tard Chevaucher le Tigre (1961), (**) ouvrage difficile qui contredisait le précédent (5). Il déclarait en substance que dans un monde courant à sa ruine, rien ne valait d'être sauvé, le seul impératif catégorique étant de suivre sa voie intérieure avec un parfait détachement pour tout ce qui nous entoure, mais en assumant ce que la vie offre de tragique et de douloureux. Ce message souleva de vives controverses dans la secte de ceux que l'on qualifiait ironiquement de « Témoins d'Evola ». Les uns le comprirent comme une invitation à se retirer du monde, et les autres comme une incitation à dynamiter la société décadente. C'est cette part du message qu'entendront les adeptes italiens de l'activisme brutal qui se manifestera au cours des « années de plomb ».

Ce qu'exprimait Chevaucher le Tigre reflétait le dégoût que pouvait inspirer aux plus idéalistes le marais de la petite politique parlementaire dans lequel s'enfonçait le MSI. Mais, au-delà, était en cause l'évolution  d'une société italienne et occidentale soumise à l'emprise du consumérisme et du matérialisme.
Au cours des décennies suivantes, la généralisation de la violence et du terrorisme de gauche eut des effets importants au sein de la droite radicale qu'influençait le philosophe. Les deux principales organisations extra-parlementaires, Ordine Nuovo et Avanguardia Nazionale, avaient été dissoutes en 1973, ce qui poussait à l'illégalité. Mais cette stratégie fut brisée net par la répression.

Cependant, une nouvelle génération était à l'oeuvre qui avait fait d'Evola une lecture superficielle. Née après 1950, étrangère à la mémoire historique du fascisme, elle critiquait volontiers les « vieux » du MSI, et tout autant les monstres sacrés de la droite activiste, genre Borghèse, et leur stratégie désuète du coup d'Etat. On proclama avec emphase la fin des idélogies et la primauté de l'action. Pour cette génération de très jeunes militants, devant le vide des anciennes valeurs mortes, subsistait le combat comme valeur existentielle. « Ce n'est pas au pouvoir que nous aspirons, ni à la création d'un ordre nouveau », lit-on en 1980 dans Qex, bulletin de liaison des détenus politiques de la droite radicale. « C'est la lutte qui nous intéresse, c'est l'action en soi, l'affirmation de notre propre nature ». L'influence de Chevaucher le Tigre était évidente. Mais ce qui, chez Evola, devait résulter d'une ascèse intérieure, était réduit ici à sa lettre la plus brutale, par l'identification au mythe simpliste du « guerrier ». cette dérive conduisait à la théorisation sommaire du « spontanéisme armé », autant qu'au retrait dans une tour d'ivoire ésotérique.

Dominique Venner.

1. Julius Evola a rédigé lui-même sa propore biographie intellectuelle, Le Chemin du Cinabre, trad. Philippe Baillet, Arché/ Arktos, 1982.
2. Le principal ouvrage théorique de Julius Evola, Révolte contre le Monde moderne (1934), a fait l'objet d'une traduction par Philippe Baillet, aux Editions de L'Age d'Homme, en 1991.
3. Julius Evola, Orientamenti (1950) (***), Settimo Sigillo, Rome, 1984, p. 42.
4. Julius Evola, Les Hommes au milieu des Ruines (1953), Traduction aux Sept Couleurs par Pierre Pascal en 1972. Nouvelle édition revue par Gérard Boulanger chez Pardès en 1984 et 2005.
5. Julius Evola, Chevaucher le Tigre, traduction par Isabelle Robinet, La Colombe, 1964, et Guy Trédaniel éditeur, 2002.

jeudi, 28 janvier 2016

¿Combatir o no combatir?

ragamala-2.jpg

¿Combatir o no combatir?

Beatriz Calvo Villoria

Ex: http://blog.ecocentro.es

En estos días se debate en los foros, en los muros de las redes sociales, en la prensa, en el alma de muchos sobre las distintas actitudes ante la guerra, ¿combatir o no combatir?, ¿la violencia se aplaca con violencia? ¿El amor es la respuesta, la compasión de liberar de la ignorancia? Este es un tema realmente complejo, donde se entremezclan muchos niveles, que pueden fácilmente confundirse y no sé ni como me atrevo a abordarlo, sabiendo que mi ignorancia dejará fuera miles de matices, que muchos lectores añadirán internamente a su lectura, para completar si pudiéramos escribir un texto a varias voces esta aproximación sobre la guerra nuestra de cada día.

Como siempre busco refugio intelectual en las Doctrinas Tradicionales donde uno encuentra posiciones para todos los carismas humanos que pueblan este planeta, como si la luz de la Verdad, pura e incolora por su inafección se convirtiera en un arcoiris al tocar la joya de la madre tierra  -que pende como símbolo cósmico privilegiado de la manifestación- y los colores más diversos que surgen de la refracción se hubieran adaptado a distintas geografías, épocas y tipologías de hombres, reflectando la misma luz, pero adaptada, por esa misericordia que tiene la luz de iluminar a todos los seres adecuándose a su forma.

Doctrinas tradicionales cercanas como la del Judaísmo, el Cristianismo y el Islam han contemplado la posibilidad de la guerra en aras de restituir la justicia perdida, la balanza del justo equilibrio, guerras que se regían por reglas estrictas de caballerosidad espiritual, y donde el enemigo era respetado y se luchaba cuerpo a cuerpo, buscando ser honorable y valeroso en la batalla.

La guerra exterior como un simulacro de la guerra interior que todo héroe ha de librar en su corazón por la constante tensión entre lo que aparentamos ser y lo que realmente somos, por la necesidad de superarnos a nosotros mismos venciendo los miedos, los fantasmas, las heridas que nos impiden avanzar y tomar mejor posición ante la vida con el fin de “llegar a ser lo que somos”. 

Pronto esa posibilidad degeneró e inundó el mundo de sangre usando el Nombre de Dios en vano, cuando era en nombre de sus intereses mundanos por lo que forzaban la interpretación de Su mensaje. Las doctrinas Abrahámicas son ya propias de un final de un tiempo, de un ciclo en el que el hombre transita desde hace miles de años, tan alejado de las verdades espirituales que vive en una falta total de equilibrio y de paz.

arjuna_Krishna_chariot.jpg

Pero si estas doctrinas son propias de una edad de hierro en que el desequilibrio acentúa la ciclidad vertiginosa entre la paz y la guerra rastreemos en las doctrinas más cercanas a edades más doradas del hombre, donde éste todavía recordaba su filiación con el Origen de todo lo creado -el que da la medida exacta de lo que un ser humano es-, cómo se trataba el tema de la guerra.

Según el Mahābhārata la era de Kali (la era de la riña y la hipocresía) comenzó en la medianoche del duodécimo día de la guerra de Kurukshetra, la noche en que los dos ejércitos se negaron a detenerse al atardecer para orar y siguieron matándose en la oscuridad, hasta el amanecer.

En el Baghavadd Guîtâ, se relata con belleza descomunal el dilema del guerrero Arjuna cuando en el campo de batalla ve al ejercito enemigo formado por sus seres más queridos, muchos de los cuales se han alejado del equilibrio que da el desapego, la renuncia a los infinitos deseos; la templanza; el contento con la sencillez, hija de la Unidad; la generosidad con Dios y por lo tanto con el prójimo, que ha sido creado para gestar comunidad y amor; el discernimiento, y todas las virtudes que permiten vivir la danza de los opuestos sin quemarse, pues el fuego tiene su correspondiente agua para danzar sin incendiar el mundo.

Esos seres alejados de los principios conmueven a Arjuna y en medio del campo de batalla le entra la flaqueza, pues no quiere matar a quienes ama y clama: “¡Oh, Krishna! viendo a mis familiares preparados para la batalla, mis párpados desfallecen y se cierran; y mi boca se seca y queda amarga, temblores recorren mi cuerpo y mi cabello se eriza con horror. La desgracia recaería sobre nosotros, si matamos a estos hombres; aunque sean malos. ¿Qué gozo encontraríamos en su muerte, oh Krishna, liberador de las almas?Como tu discípulo, vengo a Ti en súplica, en Ti busco refugio; por favor, sé la luz que aparte la oscuridad de mi confusión.”

El Señor Krishna, que en este texto inspirado, además de una encarnación divina es también Brahman, la Realidad última, le instruye sobre la guerra, nos instruye sobre la realidad y la ilusión en la que vivimos los hombres dormidos:

“Tanto el que piensa que el alma mata, como el que cree que puede ser muerta, ambos son ignorantes. Ni puede matar ni puede ser muerta.El Espíritu nunca nace y nunca muere: es eterno. Nunca ha nacido, está más allá del tiempo; del que ha pasado y el que ha de venir. No muere cuando el cuerpo muere.

El Espíritu inmortal mora en todos los seres y la muerte no puede afectarlo. Reponte, pues, de tu tristeza.  Por esto, piensa en tu deber y no dudes. No hay mayor honor para un guerrero que participar en una lucha por el restablecimiento de la virtud. Y no luchar por la justicia es traicionar tu deber y tu honor; es despreciar la virtud.”

Quizá es esta una de las claves principales para abordar esa pregunta que anda en el corazón de muchos ¿debemos de combatir a esas bestias asesinas que surgen de la ignorancia de lo que somos, pontífices entre la Tierra y el Cielo?, ¿combatir ese terrorismo tanto de estado como de facciones de personas profundamente desequilibradas que vehiculan el mal con mayúsculas?

Krishna dice que no luchar por la justicia es traicionar nuestro deber, y quizá ese idealismo de que el conflicto en ciernes que occidente ha ayudado a cocinar en los fogones de este tramo de historia, se resolverá con oraciones, cuando además sólo una parte muy reducida de la población está capacitada para orar ofreciendo al mismo tiempo el sacrificio del ego que la oración demanda, para irrumpir ésta con su sobrenaturaleza en la naturaleza tiene que dejar paso a una posición más ponderada, la de nuestra realidad de almas tibias y adocenadas por la confortabilidad incapaces de convocar el milagro que necesitamos.

Y quizá esto nos obligue a reconocer que no somos Brahmanes, sacerdotes con capacidad de intermediar entre el cielo y la tierra y que quizá, si algo queda, es nuestra capacidad de acción y, quizá, de lucha recordando las enseñanzas del Señor Krishna de que ni quien mata ni es matado son reales, sino una representación relativamente real de un drama cósmico que se nos escapa y que no puede no acontecer. Y que ya está aconteciendo.

arj33783582.jakarat494.JPGPues el hombre separado, sin unidad activa la dualidad, el árbol del bien y el mal y la alternancia entre la paz y la guerra se convierte en el reflejo extremo de la danza en la que el universo manifestado reescribe en cada instante su equilibrio.

La economía de lo divino se nos escapa, una no deja de sorprenderse cuando lee las visiones insólitas de Sor Consolata en la que Jesús le dice que la Segunda Guerra Mundial no la han creado los gobiernos sino que es una posibilidad divina que permite la salvación por la heroicidad que inspira la guerra ante la constatación de que la muerte puede acontecer en el siguiente segundo; y que esa guerra salvó para el “Tiempo Real”, que es el de la eternidad, a millones de jóvenes que inoculados del veneno de la tibieza por la decadencia de sus sociedades, culturas y religiones despreciaban la preciosa y frágil vida, acumulando en un gesto de heroísmo y de grandeza todos los méritos necesarios para salirse incluso del samsara, al dar la vida por los amigos, que es el máximo acto de amor que un ser humano puede hacer sobre la tierra.

La paz es inconcebible sin la guerra, y lo contrario también es cierto. La guerra siempre seguirá siendo una posibilidad, porque nunca se podrá eliminar aquello que la provoca, a saber, la diversidad virtualmente antagonista de las aspiraciones y valores, intereses y proyectos de hombres no realizados en la Unidad, en la hermandad, por tanto, con todos los humanos y por ende con todos los seres que habitan la tierra, todos los reinos a los que también estamos diezmando por esa ignorancia.

Es como si la textura del propio universo se tejiese a golpe de ying y yan y a medida que avanza el tiempo los ciclos traen, como en nuestra propia vida, procesos de nacimiento, madurez, enfermedades, que nos obligan a combatir el mal, el envejecer y finalmente el morir. Este ciclo viejo está llegando a su muerte, de nosotros depende como combatimos su achaques, sus dolencias, sus enfermedades y sus pestilencias.

Ojalá que el amor incendiase los corazones de la gente de esta época y diésemos a parir un nuevo ciclo de posibilidad, de renacimiento, de la mano de menos sufrimiento; que pudiésemos anular nuestros egos fusionándonos en la Unidad Principial en vez de esta inversión en la que la disolución está siendo en el Caos.

Pero no podemos dejar de observar que el horror que estamos viendo ha salido de las cloacas de almas, que como diría de nuevo Krishna pertenecen al hombre de naturaleza demoníaca, “que careciendo de principios, ignora qué es lo que se debe hacer y qué es lo que no se debe hacer; su corazón está empocilgado con todo tipo de impurezas, su conducta es irreverente y miente sin reparo./ Acuciados por cientos de deseos y vanas esperanzas, se esfuerzan denodadamente por acumular riquezas y bienes.

Viven con el único propósito de satisfacer sus deseos egoístas, siendo el odio y la lujuria su único refugio./ Violentos, iracundos, lascivos y sumidos ya en la más insolente arrogancia, estos hombres malvados llegan a odiarme: Me odian en ellos mismos y en otros igualmente. / Estos seres malvados, crueles y llenos de odio, son los hombres en el estado más bajo. En el inacabable ciclo de las reencarnaciones, inexorablemente Yo condeno a estos hombres a la destrucción./

El problema principal que esta naturaleza demoníaca no solo lo representan los grupos terroristas que occidente pretende combatir, sino que son las oligarquías financieras que manejan los gobiernos de occidente las que son demoníacas en sí mismas, por lo que el el campo de batalla no está alienado como en las guerras del Baghavadd Guîtâ. El Bien en un lado, el mal en el otro. El mal está en todos los frentes.

Todo es demasiado confuso, pero si a alguno nos tocase finalmente combatir en un escenario de guerra externa, en la interna es contínuo el combate, quizá todo esto debería de matizarse con un recuerdo sobre cuál es la actitud de un guerrero del espíritu en un campo de batalla, sea interior, sea exterior: “Permanece en paz, tanto en el placer como en el dolor; en la victoria, tanto como en la derrota; tanto si ganas como si pierdes. Prepárate para la guerra con tu alma tranquila; si estás en paz, no hay pecado. Más allá del poder del fuego, de la espada, del agua y del viento, el Espíritu es eterno, inmutable, omnipresente, inamovible, y siempre uno.” Krishna.

Y quizá un último abordaje de ese recuerdo de como se lucha en las batallas de la vida podríamos hacerlo desde el concepto coránico de yihad tan mal entendido. El yihad vehicula principalmente la idea de esfuerzo y expansión en el camino de Dios.

Según los sufíes, que expresan la dimensión más espiritual del Islam, se traduce como aquel esfuerzo que se realiza en el alma de cada hombre contra la ilusión de un yo separado de lo único real, que en su individuación, en su vestirse este cuerpo nuestro de cada día va construyendo a medida que surge la idea de un yo, sistemas defensivos y/o agresivos por la indefensión que siente ante la rotundidad de la existencia, que juega con miles de escenas y escenarios cambiantes que se suceden en un aparente falta de coherencia interna, falta de sentido abrumador.

Toda esa maya, ese galimatías experiencial fortalece la idea de un yo separado y abrumado que va encerrando en la caverna del olvido al único órgano que puede iluminarle su ceguera: el corazón, primer escalón de la escalera de Jacob que sube hasta el cielo de la Pureza, de la Verdad del Padre, del Amor de la Madre, si se me permite expresarlo así.

En ese olvido que le atemoriza el hombre intenta llenar su vacío con el cumplimiento de una infinidad de deseos que le llevaran a entrar en guerra con el otro yo que también desea, a veces lo mismo, la misma esposa, el mismo reino…. Y se pierde finalmente en el laberinto de la multiciplicad sin centro, careciendo de la firme determinación necesaria para hacerse uno con el Uno.

kshadb56b069.jpgLa polisemia de la palabra yihad, comprende otros dos tipos de esfuerzo menores, además del interno que es el Esfuerzo Mayor -el único que es santo- (el esfuerzo por mejorar la calidad de vida en la sociedad, esfuerzo en el campo de batalla en defensa propia, o luchar en contra de la tiranía y la opresión). El Islam fundamentalista, que por lo tanto no es Islam, pues no es equilibrado, ha ido desposeyendo y distorsionando este sentido interior y se ha quedado con una interpretación sesgada del esfuerzo menor para justificar religiosamente sus afanes políticos y dinerarios, de nuevo el pecado (error de tiro) de usar en Nombre de Dios en vano.

Esa guerra Santa es el arquetipo, el molde del que toda guerra menor debiera de beber, de emerger cuando en la historia las circunstancia de injusticia y violencia son tan atroces que se justifica este esfuerzo menor, pero siempre con las mismas virtudes que en la Gran Guerra Santa atemporal. Y con la comprensión que nadie mata, nada muere, solo Dios es Real y Él sabe más.

Así que humildemente comparto ese alto y dificultoso ideal a cumplir en el tiempo y espacio de una guerra en el mundo, en el mundo del alma, en el mundo del mundo: no es el ego  el que debe luchar sino la conciencia continua de una justicia que desde el Cielo de los principios nos induce a actuar.

Como el ejemplo de uno de lo compañeros del Profeta del Islam, que cuando a punto de asestarle un golpe fatal al enemigo que yacía en el suelo, éste le escupió a la cara, el semblante del compañero mudó y entonces dejó la espada y liberó de su golpe al enemigo, esté preguntó conmovido porque le perdonaba la vida y él le contestó porque la santa cólera había sido sustituida por la cólera de su ego ofendido, y no había de ser ése quien ejecutase la justicia sino el Único hacedor, para lo cual el ego no puede estar en medio reaccionando a sus propios intereses.

Si seguimos viajando por las Doctrinas que alumbran el camino como mapas que debemos reactualizar a cada instante nos encontramos a un Maestro del Amor como Jesús hablando también de la guerra: «No penséis que he venido a traer paz a la tierra. No he venido a traer paz, sino espada». (San Mateo 10, 34).

Y como dice Ángel Pascual Rodrigo: “De nuevo encontramos la misma paradoja expresada en los evangelios donde “el sufrimientos por las guerras y penalidades son como “upaya” para lograr la catarsis y la paz; para lograr la victoria en las batallas espirituales: la paz del espíritu. En tiempos de paz, el orgullo y la avidez, las afrentas mutuas y las pasiones desbordadas fraguan la guerra. En tiempos de guerra, la catarsis y la lucha por el ansiado bien fraguan la paz.”

Mientras estemos en la dualidad del bien y del mal la paz seguirá a la guerra y ésta a la paz, el ying contendrá un punto blanco del yan y el yan un punto negro del ying y rodarán entretejidos creando los mil universos, sólo quien trasciende los pares de opuestos bueno-malo, positivo-negativo, placer-dolor se libera.

«Las lámparas son diferentes pero la Luz es la misma; viene del Más Allá. Si te quedas mirando a la lámpara estás perdido, pues entonces surge la diversidad y la dualidad. Fija tu vista en la Luz y te sacará de la dualidad.» Jalal al-Din Rumi.

Si no queremos combatir en la siguiente guerra, quizá la más loca de todas por las que ha transitado la humanidad sólo nos queda redoblar el yihad interior, el hombre espiritual muere a esta vida para dejar de soñar y despertar a esa Realidad que es el origen de todas las realidades, para contemplar esa Belleza de la cual toda la belleza terrenal es sólo un pálido reflejo, para lograr esa Paz que todos los hombres buscan más allá de la inevitable guerra entre los pares de opuestos…. Esa pura ilusión que se desvanece ante el rostro del Amado, el único lugar donde no hay guerra.

Beatriz Calvo Villoria

samedi, 23 janvier 2016

The Road from Dante to Guenon

The Road from Dante to Guenon

dante_alighieri-1.jpgVintila Horia was a Romanian Traditional author. In a collection dedicated to the thought of Rene Guenon, titled Rene Guenon Colloque du Centenaire, he contributed an essay Mon Chemin de Dante à Guenon, or, My Path from Dante to Guenon. (I’m looking for a hard or soft copy of the full text if anyone can find it.)

The Project Rene Guenon published some excerpts from it here. In the section below titled “Reading Notes”, there is my translation of the notes from French to English.

Even this little taste is quite suggestive. Usually applied to Sacred Texts, Horia points out that the Divine Comedy by Dante can also be understood on four levels. It is no surprise that he names Rene Guenon as providing to key to the highest level of interpretation.

An interesting wrinkle is that Horia names Soren Kierkegaard as providing to key to understand the Comedy at the moral level. That is certainly worth exploring. Kierkegaard describes the phenomenological states of consciousness for many types of men. Perhaps then, we should understand Dante’s descriptions of the punishments of hell for the various class of sinners as pictorial representations of their inner soul life.

Horia then points out the roles of the Cross and the Eagle, i.e., Church and Empire (or Spiritual Authority and Temporal Power, in Guenon’s terms). A one-sided effort is certain to fail.

Horia ends on a note reminiscent of Boris Mouravieff: a small group of the just will witness the coming Age of the Holy Spirit.

Reading Notes

There are several keys to Dante. Rene Guenon provides us one: that of esoterism, which would make the “Divine Comedy” the poem par excellence from the standpoint of traditional studies. (p 93)

Among the studies devoted to Dante, the closest to the poet’s spirit are:

  1. that of Rene Guenon
  2. that of the Italian scholar Luigi Valli
  3. that of the Spaniard Asin Palacios, entitled “Dante and Islam.”

“With the fourteenth century, and especially with Petrarch, the path takes a turning point, it tries to rise, with the return of Platonism to power, along the first part of the Renaissance at least, but it sinks, after Marsilio Ficino, into a hopeless landscape, or terminal end, of which the eighteenth century constitutes a type of spiritualist error, so to speak, by following the teaching that Guenon suggests to us as an example of what we should not do especially at times when poetry, like politics together, as in Dante’s time a tragic inseparability. Hölderlin, already at the beginning of the last century, placed in relation the “times of distress” and the “presence of the poet.” (p 94)

Our time is perhaps one of the closest to Dantean exegesis.

“Dante was above all a poet faithful to poiesis and then to creation, and, in the most logical way, he found himself tempted by all the paths to the very source of creation, which is Truth. To reach it, he let himself be guided by the two poles of our poetic soul: inspiration, which proceeds in a straight line from the unconscious world, and reason, linked to the consciousness above any partial separation, classical in one sense, romantic in another, and which removed from his work that tone of impartiality — I would not say objectivity, because this word has no meaning in this context — that characterizes it despite permanent injunctions of his ego and of the historical sufferings that inspire it and, often, determine it in his creative action. Dante is a world, in the fullest sense, and it even lets us embrace it, even if we are situated almost seven centuries after his adventure.” (p 94)

There is a literary key of “The Divine Comedy” and of Dante in general. Next, there is an allegorical key, which is a first way to add a veil above the literal sense. Then a moral key, proposed by Kierkegaard. The last one, the anagogical key, was given by Guenon and Luigi Valli.

“What Guenon did for me and, I imagine, for most of those who found in him the same remedy, was to draw me away from minor or partial truths, to put me in contact, at least wavering, with Truth, which is one and that, by following ever more complicated and hidden paths, drew me to Plato and made me understand the most prominent and the most spectacular aspects of current physics, for example, through Heisenberg, to name a stage, as efforts as part of a broader effort whose aim was that to help me advance towards something after going through hell —  the last two centuries of history Western form, in this perspective, the nine circles of hell and it is possible that we are going through the last, that of eternal ice and traitors, those who betrayed man —  to lead us to an indispensable Purgatory to make the last jump, one that implies an end and a beginning, and that is surely one of the end and a new beginning, ‘Pure and disposed to mount unto the stars’, which is the last verse of Dante’s Purgatory.” (p 97)

The metapolitical goal of “The Divine Comedy” is to present to a sick mankind the double remedy of the Cross (the Catholic Church) and the Eagle (the Empire). The Cross has the role to cure ignorance and the Eagle, distress. Lust was to be annihilated by the victory of the Cross, and injustice by the victory of the Eagle.

“So don’t we owe our terrible entrance into the deterministic and entropic night to the separation between the Cross and the Eagle? The Cross alone would now solve the problems that it could solve neither at the end of the Middle Ages, when it was strong and universal, nor in the age of the Revolution, when it was abandoned by poets causing the flight of the gods which Hölderlin speaks about. The Eagle soared, too, on other worlds, very far away from us, imitated by fake eagles, imperial in space but not in time, which belongs to the reign of the Cross. We live under the oppression of invalid empires, not only because sick of tyranny and inhumane separations, fated to protect the ultimate fall and decay, but also because they do not want the Cross, their most mysterious and fiercest enemy, alone but surviving. I think that Dante and Guenon complement each other on the threshold of the catastrophic loss of the relationship with being and of finding again complementary phases in the path of salvation that explain the history of this time with a clarity that other specialized disciplines are not able to explain because they unable to understand. Beyond the end of time, that time already many centuries old, we may find ourselves in the fullness of Being, according to the voice full of the bitterness and hope of the best prophets. Everything will only be the pile of the useless, arrogant and vain. Only a voice of the righteous, that is to say, those that have been formed in a different light, will accompany us in the great alchemical change in the third millennium.” (p 100-101)