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jeudi, 17 septembre 2020

Immobile Warriors: Evola’s Post-War Career from the Perspective of Neville’s New Thought


Immobile Warriors:
Evola’s Post-War Career from the Perspective of Neville’s New Thought

What has got to be gotten over is the false idea that a hallucination is a private matter.

— P. K. Dick [1] [1]

There is no fiction. What is fiction today will be a fact tomorrow. A book written as a fictional story today comes out of the imagination of the one who wrote it, and will become a fact in the tomorrows.

— Neville [2] [2]

4127dlLdp6L._SX331_BO1,204,203,200_.jpgGianfranco de Turris’ newly translated book on Julius Evola’s war years [3] [3] is a veritable secret archive of obscure and obscured information on Evola’s activities in the last two years of the Second World War and the immediate aftermath, all of which is used by the author to throw light on many occurrences that have remained poorly documented and, inevitably, subject to more or less informed speculation, if not outright gossip.

One of these is the injury Evola received in Vienna, which left him an invalid for the remainder of his life. Collin Cleary, in his review [4], gives a nice summary:

On January 21, 1945, Evola decided to take a walk through the streets of Vienna during an aerial bombardment by the Americans (and not the Soviets, as has been erroneously claimed). While he was in the vicinity of Schwarzenbergplatz, a bomb fell nearby, throwing Evola several feet and knocking him unconscious. He was found and taken to a military hospital. When the philosopher awoke hours later, the first thing he did was to ask what had become of his monocle. Once the doctors had finished looking him over, the news was not good. Evola was found to have a contusion of the spinal cord which left him with complete paralysis from the waist down. As Mircea Eliade notoriously said, the injury was roughly at the level of “the third chakra.” It resulted in Evola being categorized as a “100-percent war invalid,” which afforded him the small pension he received for the rest of his life.

An all-too-common tragedy of wartime. Yet with Evola, nothing is so simple. Speculation and rumor have swirled around this incident. If this is how Evola was injured, why was he engaged in such an apparently suicidal act (and indeed, “taking a walk . . . during an aerial bombardment” was actually a habit with him)? And if it wasn’t the cause, what was? As in the title of de Turris’ book, Evola is known as not only a philosopher but a magician: surely something spookier was involved? And indeed, since Evola was apparently in Vienna to examine Masonic documents, including rituals, the latter of which he intended to “rectify” and purify of anti-traditional elements, the idea of his being injured by an esoteric ritual gone wrong becomes possible (if one takes such things seriously).

De Turris deals with all these issues magisterially and has surely produced a definitive account (unless more documents turn up; he is a scrupulous scholar who admits when something is still unclear, and corrects his own earlier accounts when new information has appeared).

One amazing bit of information de Turris provides concerns novelizations of Evola’s situation, which inevitably take the Dan Brown path of giving magical accounts; no less than three, and two of them by Mircea Eliade! Both Il segerto del Graal by Paolo Virio (1955) and Diciannove rose by Eliade (1978) appeared after the incident (and in Eliade’s case after Evola’s death). The third novel, the first of Eliade’s two, is the most interesting; here is de Turris’ description:

It is also necessary to make reference to another novel by the Romanian author that is a most bewildering coincidence if not a real prophecy. Upon his return from his stay in India in 1931, Mircea Eliade would write some novels and short stories within that setting with its appropriate allusions; among this literary output is Il Segreto del Dottor Honigberger, published in 1940. The protagonist was a Saxon physician in the 1800s who had really existed. It first appeared in two parts in a magazine and a few months later, slightly but significantly expanded, in the form of a book accompanied by Notti a Serampore. The author makes reference to an inexperienced disciple who has remained paralyzed for having not known to thoroughly master the knowledge of his own discoveries on the spiritual plane when seeking to perfect a “yoga initiation.” The stupefying fact is that the name of this tragic character is J. E.! The young Mircea Eliade had known Julius Evola in Rome during his travels to Italy in the years 1927 to 1928, which was at the time of the Ur Group, and maintained a correspondence with him when he was in India. Is it perhaps possible that he just might have named the unfortunate spiritual researcher with the abbreviation J. E., since he was impressed by his personality and by his “occult” interests? Whatever it might be, the paralysis is described five years before the bombardment of Vienna, and the antecedents ascribed to it are the very rumors that surrounded Evola once he returned to Italy in 1951. Eliade probably had only learned of it on the occasion of another journey to the Italian Peninsula, where in 1952 he had another encounter with Evola. Or perhaps even after having only read Il cammino del cinabro [Evola gifted him a copy of the first edition in 1963]. Hence he consciously and deliberately made use of this for Diciannove rose. But to write of it before it had ever occurred in 1940. . . . [Author’s ellipsis, for spooky effect?]

So the stunning aspect in these novels is that both the authors, Paolo Virio and Mircea Eliade, knew what they were talking about. Both could boast of having sufficient experiences with initiatic methodologies, and both had long-lasting personal friendships with Julius Evola. . . . Had they deemed as insufficient the explanation of the bombing, considering it to be too prosaic, too banal for someone like him? And so they dreamed up in an equally effective and powerful evocation to describe the protagonist in their works.

EldritchEvola-KindleCoverB-200x300.jpgYou can buy James O’Meara’s book The Eldritch Evola here. [5]

Perhaps, but we should note again that this novel was published in 1940, “five years before the bombardment of Vienna, and the antecedents ascribed to [his injury] are the very rumors that surrounded Evola once he returned to Italy in 1951.” Surely a coincidence, says the man of common sense. Yet of course, Evola himself was not such a dreary man of sense, and as we’ll see he was certainly open to such esoteric interpretations.

Consider this [6]: Futility is a novella written by Morgan Robertson and published as Futility in 1898, and revised as The Wreck of the Titan in 1912.

It features a fictional British ocean liner Titan that sinks in the North Atlantic after striking an iceberg. Titan and its sinking are famous for similarities to the passenger ship RMS Titanic and its sinking fourteen years later. After the sinking of Titanic, the novel was reissued with some changes, particularly in the ship’s gross tonnage.

Although the novel was written before RMS Titanic was even conceptualized, there are some uncanny similarities between the fictional and real-life versions. Like Titanic, the fictional ship sank in April in the North Atlantic, and there were not enough lifeboats for all the passengers. There are also similarities in size (800 ft [244 m] long for Titan versus 882 ft 9 in [269 m] long for the Titanic), speed, and life-saving equipment. After the Titanic’s sinking, some people credited Robertson with precognition and clairvoyance, which he denied. Scholars attribute the similarities to Robertson’s extensive knowledge of shipbuilding and maritime trends.


As it happens, I was alerted to this historical oddity a while ago as a result of reading one of Neville’s lectures, “Seedtime and Harvest,” which articulates the principle that “there is no fiction [7].”

14 years before the actual harvest or that frightful event of the sinking of the Titanic a man in England wrote a book. He conceived this fabulous Atlantic liner and there he built her just like the Titanic, (only the Titanic was not built for 14 years) but he, in his imagination, conceived the liner of 800-ft. She was triple screw, she carried 3000 passengers, she carried few lifeboats because she was unsinkable; she could make 24 knots; and then one night he filled her to the brim with rich and complacent people, and on a cold winter night he sunk her on an iceberg in the Atlantic. 14 years later the White Star Line builds a ship. She is 800 ft., she is a triple screw, she can make 24 knots, she can carry 3000 passengers, she has not enough lifeboats for passengers but she, too, is labeled unsinkable. She is filled to capacity with the rich, if not complacent, but the rich, because her passenger list was worth in that day, when the dollar was one hundred cents, two hundred and fifty million dollars was the worth of the passenger list. Today [1956] it would be a billion dollars. All the wealth of Europe and the wealth of this country was sailing on that maiden voyage out of Southampton. Five nights at sea in this wonderful glorious ship and she went down on a cold April night on an iceberg.

Now that man wrote a book either to get something off his chest because he disliked the rich and the complacent, or he thought it might sell or he thought this is the means of bringing him a dollar as a writer. But, whatever was the motive behind his book which, by the way, he called Futility to show the utter futility of accumulated wealth, but the identical ship was built 14 years later and carried the same kind of a passenger list and went down in the same manner as the fictional ship.

Is there any fiction? There is no fiction! Tomorrow’s world is today’s fiction. Today’s world was yesteryear’s fiction — the dreams of men of yesteryear. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could talk with someone across space and just use a wire? And I couldn’t see that one: it would be a mile away beyond the range of my voice — then maybe five miles and maybe a thousand miles — fantastic dreams — then they came true. When they came true, suppose I could do it without the means of a wire. And it came true; suppose now I could do it not just in an audio sense but in a video sense. Suppose I could be seen? And that came true, but when they were conceived, they were all fictional, all unreal.

And how can this be [8]?

Now, am I responsible for others in my world? I certainly am! When I take my little mind, my little imagination and think because it’s mine — my Father gave it to me, that I can simply misuse it, it isn’t going to hurt another. I tell you you do have to use more control for the simple reason I am rooted in you and you are rooted in everyone and all of us are rooted in God. There is no separate individual detached being in my Father’s Kingdom. We are one. I am completely responsible for the use or misuse of my imagination.

Now, I’m sure all this just sticks in the craw of those self-styled “rationalists” or “materialists” out there (including many who idolize the political Evola and wish everyone would forget about all that magical stuff). I won’t try to gainsay that here, but as I said above, Evola certainly agreed with this basic idea (without going the full “we are all one” New Age route politically), [4] [9] and I think it’s worthwhile to put our rationalism “in parentheses,” as the phenomenologists would say [10], and explore some of the ramifications.


What Neville’s talking about is an extension of the notion of magical combat into the realm of the involuntary or accidental — as if you gave a monkey a machine gun. [5] [11] Guénon believed he himself had been paralyzed for six months due to such a magical attack in 1939, recovering only when an “evil influence” was deported from Egypt. On this basis, he suggested Evola “reflect upon it” and “see if something similar could not have been around you.” [6] [12] As Evola later recalled,

I told Guénon that a similar attack would be an unlikely cause in my case, not least because an extraordinarily powerful spell would have been necessary to cause such damage; for the spell would have had to determine a whole series of objective events, including the occurrence of the bombing raid, and the time and place in which the bombs were dropped. [7] [13]

Evola’s reasoning here is interesting, because Neville addresses exactly this point, and denies it; in fact, rejecting it is a key part of his “method for changing the future.” [8] [14] One is to imagine the end, being in the state of the desire satisfied; not the means. To dwell on the means is unnecessary and even counterproductive, as thereby one remains in the state of lack; [9] [15] instead, when the future state is imagined so clearly as to feel real, the larger world itself will arrange things in ways you could never have imagined. A “bridge of incidents” will be constructed for you to cross; your materialist friends will point to this sequence of “objective” events and call it “coincidence,” and claim it would have happened anyway. Indeed, since most of us have little control over our thoughts, we may have no recollection of the idle thought in the past that led to a current situation. [10] [16]

The more careful one is with what thoughts we allow ourselves to entertain, and the more outlandish the apparent means used to bring about a desired outcome, the more likely one is to make the leap from mere coincidence to meaningful coincidence — i.e. synchronicity.

Thus, Neville’s stories tend to involve improbable means; in his most famous story, “How Abdullah Taught Neville the Law [17],” Neville’s hoped-for escape from a New York City winter occurs when his brother “decides” to have to whole family together for Christmas, and sends him a ticket and expenses for a voyage back to Barbados. [11] [18] The family business — today’s massive Caribbean conglomerate, Goddard Enterprises [19] — is founded when, after his brother spends two years of lunch hours gazing at a business rival’s building, imagining his family name on the side, a stranger, “looking for a better return on his savings,” walks up with an offer to buy him the building [20]. His two brothers visit New York and want to see a sold-out production of Aida; Neville goes to the Met box office, foils a con man (because Neville’s tall enough to look over the man’s shoulder and recognize the short change scam he’s “attempting”), and is rewarded with VIP tickets [21].

I’ve used scare quotes because in each case a third party — brother, stranger, con man — thinks he is just going about his business, exercising his free will, when actually they are essential parts in the bridge of incidents invoked by Neville himself.

On the other hand, the lack of specific means — “a way you could never imagine” — leaves open the possibility of foul play. Neville consoles a follower who had wished to be rid of neighbor — who (consequently?) dies. [12] [22] Another listener asks point-blank if one can wish for someone’s death, and Neville sort of side steps in his answer: no one really wants someone to die, just to go away, which could involve a change of jobs or retirement to Florida. [13] [23] In general, one should only wish for the best, not only for oneself but for others — who, after all, are us as well. [14] [24]

In any event, there is no need to try to determine if someone, perhaps Eliade, launched a magical attack on Evola, perhaps inadvertently; Evola himself attributed a different, though related, supervening cause. Perhaps the best way to shift gears here is to again aver to our skeptical readers, who have no doubt already asked themselves: well, if Evola was such a great magician, why didn’t he just heal himself?

Remarkably, De Turris presents evidence that Evola simply didn’t want to. [15] [25] He quotes the recollections of a distinguished Orientalist:

“One day, probably in 1952, Colazza, Scaligero, and I had been to see Evola in his apartment in Corso Vittorio. I had noticed that Evola could move his legs, despite the paralysis that we knew he had. After visiting, we left Evola’s house. As we went down the stairs, I heard Scaligero saying to Colazza: ‘But Evola could not. . . .’ As he was talking about certain practices, a certain subtle operation, a kind of exercise to which Colazza answered suddenly, in an almost clipped tone: ‘Of course he could! But he doesn’t! He does not want to do it.’”

The professor was convinced that Evola could have resolved his partial invalidity, if he were willing to practice some exercises on the etheric or subtle body that were most definitely known by Colazza, Scaligero, and Evola himself. The reason why Evola did not want to operate in this direction remains a mystery and, for Professor Filippani, even this fact goes back to Evola’s “peculiar bad character.”

The abrupt but anguished response from the anthroposophist, Dr. Colazza, who the philosopher had asked for advice and explanations about his disability, makes it clear Evola possessed psychospiritual resources and an immeasurable inner being on the subtle plane to the point that he could “self-heal.” But he did not want to do it. One must ask why?

edb21aa27bdc8120f66092847c81f7ec--fantasy-weapons-vampire-armor.jpgIndeed, we must; surely the only thing stranger than someone walking around during an aerial bombardment is that same person refusing to “self-heal.” What the professor calls Evola’s “bad character” was his stubborn refusal to take an interest in anything, however important, that, in fact, did not currently interest him; a character flaw he no doubt considered part of his prerogative as either an aristocrat or a genius. In particular, the three Anthroposophists who visited him may have tried to have him accept their assistance through what Evola’s UR group would have called a “magical chain,” [16] [26] exactly the sort of outside cause we have seen Neville discuss. [17] [27]

De Turris, however, suggests a more developed reason, which also brings us back to Neville. In a letter from 1947, Evola writes:

What is not clear to me is the purpose of the whole thing: I had in fact the idea — the belief if you want to call it, naive — that [when testing fate] one either dies or reawakens. The meaning of what has happened to me is one of confusion: neither one nor the other motive.

Evola will expand on this in The Path of Cinnabar:

What happened to me constitutes an answer that however wasn’t at all easy to interpret. Nothing changed, everything was reduced to a purely physical impediment that, aside from the practical annoying concerns and certain limitations of profane life, it neither affected nor effected me at all, my spiritual and intellectual activity not being in any way whatever altered or undermined. The traditional doctrine that in my writings I have often had the opportunity to expound — the one according to which there is no significant event in existence that was not wanted by us before birth — is also that of which I am intimately convinced, and such a doctrine I cannot but apply it also to the contingency now referred to. In reminding myself why I had wanted it is to however grasp its deepest meaning for the whole of my existence: this would have been, therefore, the only important thing, much more important than my recovery, to which I haven’t given any special weight. . . . But in this regard the fog has not yet lifted. Meanwhile, I have calmly adjusted myself to the situation, thinking humorously sometimes that perhaps this has to do with gods who have made the weight of their hands felt a little too heavy for my having joked around with them. [18] [28]

For some reason de Turris elides the following passage after “weight,” which seems to state the whole issue in a nutshell:

Besides, as I saw it, had I been capable of grasping the “memory” of such a wish by the light of knowledge, I would no doubt also have been capable of removing the physical handicap itself — if I had wished to.

The idea of our making a choice before birth – which Evola contrasts to mere amor fati, a la Nietzsche – can be found at least as far back as Plato’s Myth of Er [29]. [19] [30] And here again we can find a parallel with Neville’s teachings.

Unlike most New Thought teachers, who either rely on an accepted Christian terminology, or else posit a vague sort of Original Substance, Formless Substance, Formless Stuff, Thinking Substance, or Thinking Stuff, [20] [31] Neville offered something of an explanation, principally in the previously cited Out of This World: Thinking Fourth-Dimensionally [32]:

At every moment of our lives we have before us the choice of which of several futures we will choose. [21] [33]

How on Earth is that supposed to happen? Well, speaking of “Earth,” Neville posits a four-dimensional universe. [22] [34] The fourth dimension of course is time, and each of us — like everything in this three-dimensional world — is a sort of cross-section of a higher, fourth-dimensional being. Through the faculty of imagination — by a kind of controlled dreaming — one can rise to a level at which the whole time-line is laid out before us; we can both see the already determined future, and, by concentrated thought, enter it, and alter it.

918YDe-tmfL.jpgRemember when we were talking about not worrying about the means? It’s the fourth-dimensional self that takes care of them, having means available we know not of.

The method works, because it is, in fact, “the mechanism used in the production of the visible world.” Mitch Horowitz uses quantum physics to explain this:

Neville likewise taught that the mind creates multiple and coexistent realities. Everything already exists in potential, he said, and through our thoughts and feelings we select which outcome we ultimately experience. Indeed, Neville saw man as some quantum theorists see the observer taking measurements in the particle lab, effectively determining where a subatomic particle will actually appear as a localized object. Moreover, Neville wrote that everything and everyone that we experience is rooted in us, as we are ultimately rooted in God. Man exists in an infinite cosmic interweaving of endless dreams of reality — until the ultimate realization of one’s identity as Christ.

In an almost prophetic observation in 1948, he told listeners: “Scientists will one day explain why there is a serial universe. But in practice, how you use this serial universe to change the future is more important.” More than any other spiritual teacher, Neville created a mystical correlate to quantum physics. [23] [35]

Neville has taken Evola’s “naïve idea” and projected it beyond a single, prenatal moment and onto every moment of our subsequent life. [24] [36] Evola believed “this truth should be sufficient to render all events that appear tragic and obscure less dramatic; for — as the Eastern saying goes — ‘life on Earth is but a journey in the hours of the night’: as such life is merely one episode set in a far broader framework that extends before and beyond life.” [25] [37] And for Neville, “This world, which we think so solidly real, is a shadow out of which and beyond which we may at any time pass.” [26] [38]

What, then, was the meaning of Evola’s injury, what he calls “the purpose of the whole thing”? De Turris admits this “has always remained a personal, private mystery, clearly and definitely one that is internal,” but tries to essay an “external response” based on “what happened after the end of the war.”

This man, immobilized in bed, wrote letters and articles with a copying pencil on a lectern placed leaning in front of him or at the typewriter seated at the desk in front of the window. After having been an “active” personality in every sense of the word, culturally and worldly, a mountaineer and traveler about the whole of Europe, he now engaged his intellectual and spiritual forces for those who, starting in the late forties, thought of reconstructing something. He used his symbolic vision, present since his first letters to friends back in 1946, “among the ruins” in Europe and Italy. He used a political movement of the right that kept in mind not only the negative but also the positive lessons of Fascism and National Socialism, in the way Evola and others had envisioned it to be after July 25 and September 8. An “immobile warrior,” as he was defined by his French biographer in an effective and suggestive image, and which — not without equivocations and misunderstandings — was an example for everyone. [27] [39]


You can buy James O’Meara’s book Green Nazis in Space! here. [40]

In short, Evola turned from direct engagement with the world to an attempt to influence and, moreover, inspire the next generation of European youth, the “men among the ruins,” still standing; or Spengler’s Roman soldier buried under the ashes of Pompeii because he was never ordered to leave.

Indeed, such was his influence that “he was tried by the Italian democracy for ‘defending Fascism,’ ‘attempting to reconstitute the dissolved Fascist Party’ and being the ‘“master’ and ‘inspirer’ of young Neo-Fascists. Like Socrates, he was accused of not worshipping the gods of the democracy and corrupting youth.” [28] [41] As John Morgan says, he became “something of a guru to the various Right-wing and neo-fascist groups which emerged in Italy in the first three decades after the war.” [29] [42]

In a previous essay, I briefly compared Evola’s last years to the dénouement of Hesse’s novel The Glass Bead Game. [30] [43] Joseph Knecht, the Game Master, disillusioned with an institution he finds to be intellectually sterile and doomed by its political naivety, resigns to become a tutor to the son of an old friend, Designori, who had already left for the “real” world, hoping to thereby provide some influence on the next generation. On their first morning stroll together, however, Knecht — unwilling to seem shy or cowardly — dives into a nearby lake and, overcome by cold and fatigue, drowns.

It seems anticlimactic as a novel, and futile and senseless as an act; as senseless, perhaps, as “questioning fate” by taking a walk during an aerial bombardment. The fact that Knecht dies in this effort, however, does not constitute failure. Hesse makes it clear from his portrait of Designori’s highly physical, yet still malleable and spiritually pure son Tito, that the incomplete work of Knecht and Designori might come to full fruition in him. A child of the world, Tito yet seems to sense the spiritual duty laid upon him by Knecht’s sacrifice, and the text suggests he will rise to meet it:

And since in spite of all rational objections he felt responsible for the Master’s death, there came over him, with a premonitory shudder of awe, a sense that this guilt would utterly change him and his life, and would demand much greater things of him than he had ever before demanded of himself. [31] [44]

91kbe+gMmxL.jpgNeville, of course, was no kshatriya. In fact, I have described him as a member of the haute bourgeoise — and that’s a good thing! The merchant is a legitimate class, very populous, especially today. [32] [45] Neville is an excellent model for the average man in today’s world; [33] [46] really the perfect mid-century American life, exactly what Mad Men’s Don Draper would have had if Matthew Weiner didn’t have an axe to grind. [34] [47]

His early first marriage, with a son, and second, lifelong marriage with a daughter [48], are a social idea, and compares favorably with many “alt-right” figures. He traveled between furnished, upscale residential hotels in New York City (Washington Square) and Los Angles (Beverly Hills), as he alludes to in his lectures, and the “success stories” he tells come from the same upper-middle-class milieus of nice houses, restaurants, and vacations. [35] [49] He was from a family of merchants, and mostly lived on various stipends from his family, as well as the high dividends paid out by the family-held corporation, even during the Depression. [36] [50] This enabled him to lecture with minimal admission costs to cover the rental of the hall, self-publish about ten small books, and allow — and encourage — his lectures to be taped without charge. [37] [51]

So much not a kshatriya that another of his most famous stories is how he imagined himself out of the Army! Despite being a middle-aged father of two and a non-citizen, Neville — perhaps due to the ex-dancer’s superb physical condition — was drafted in November 1942; effectively shanghaied into the fight against the forces Evola was willingly supporting as a noncombatant. [38] [52] How he extricated himself is one of his most interesting stories:

In 1942 in the month of December, this direction came down from Washington DC, any man over 38 is eligible for discharge, providing his superior officer allows it; if his superior officer, meaning his battalion commander disallows, there is no appeal beyond his battalion commander. You could not take it to say to the divisional commander, it stops with the battalion commander. This came down in 1942 in the month of December. They gave a deadline on it. This will come to an end on March 1st of 1943 so anyone 38 years, before the first of March, 1943 was eligible. All right. That is Caesar’s law. I got my paper, made it out. They had my record, my date. I was born in 1905 on the 19th of February, so I was 38 years old before the 1st of March of 1943 so I was eligible.

My battalion commander was Colonel Theodore Bilbo. His father was a senator from Mississippi. I turned [in my application for discharge], in four hours it came back “disapproved” and signed the colonel’s name. That night I went to sleep in the assumption that I am sleeping in my apartment house in New York City. I didn’t go through the door. I didn’t go through the window. I put myself on the bed. So I slept in that assumption. At 4:00/4:15 in the morning here came before my inner eye a piece of paper not unlike the one that I had signed that day. On the bottom of it was “disapproved.” Then came a hand from here down holding a pen and then the voice said to me “That which I have done I have done. Do nothing.” It scratched out disapproved and wrote in a big bold script “Approved”. And then I woke. I did nothing.

Nine days later that same colonel called me in. He said, “Close the door, Goddard.” “Yes, sir.” He said “Do you still want to get out of the army?” I said “Yes, sir.” He said “You’re the best-dressed man in this country, who wears the uniform of America,” I said, “Yes, sir.” “You still want to get out of the Army?” “Yes, sir.” Yessed him to death as I sat before him. He said, “All right, make out another application and you’ll be out of the Army today.”

I went back to my captain, told him what the colonel had said, made out another application and he signed it and that day I was out of the Army, honorably discharged. That’s all that I did. I went right into my home as a discharged soldier of our army and I’m a civilian. I slept that night in my home in New York City though physically my body was in Camp Polk, Louisiana. That’s how it works!

The colonel, when I went through the door that evening, he came forward and he said “Well, good luck Goddard. I will see you in New York City after we have won this war.” I said “Yes, sir.” And that was it. I share this with you to tell you how it works. This is not good and that is wrong. We are living in a world of infinite possibilities.” [39] [53]

Did this happen? Mitch Horowitz has established the external facts: that the Army discharged Neville in March, 1943 so as to “accept employment in an essential wartime industry”: delivering metaphysical lectures in Greenwich Village. [40] [54]

Remember, Neville was 38 years old, a non-citizen, had a wife and a young daughter; moreover, he fails to add, in the version above, that his son from his previous marriage was already drafted and serving at Guadalcanal. Apparently all that was being ignored now in the name of more cannon fodder for Churchill’s war. [41] [55] The military draft itself is a perfect example of the modern “reign of quantity,” in which all are regarded as interchangeable “individuals,” and I can see no reason why Neville, a true member of the merchant caste, should not have availed himself of a perfectly legal avenue of escape (“Caesar’s law”).


It’s also interesting to note that his commanding officer was a Col. Theodore Bilbo, son of Sen. Bilbo. [42] [56] One wonders if he shared his father’s interest in the resettlement of America’s negroes, [43] [57] and if Neville revealed to him that his guru, Abdullah, was involved with Marcus Garvey and Ethiopianism, [44] [58] leading him to look with favor on Neville’s application; could Neville have used not Abdullah’s teaching, but his connection with Ethiopianism, to smooth his eventual premature, but honorable, discharge from the Army?

But from our perspective here, the most interesting features of this story are, first, that Neville’s “essential wartime activity” was delivering metaphysical lectures — that is, instructions in his “method of changing the future” — which is not entirely unlike Evola’s wartime activities among the archives of secret societies that had been confiscated by the Germans; has there been any modern war in which magicians — Evola, Neville, Crowley — have played so great a role?

And secondly, this:

I had my 13 weeks’ basic training, and then when I came out, they gave me my citizenship papers. Back in 1922 I could have been an American, but I just didn’t have the time or the urge to get around to become a citizen; so I drifted on and drifted on and drifted on until after this little episode. That’s why I went into the Army, or I would still be drifting through, being a citizen of Britain. But now I’m an American by adoption. And they gave it to me because I did fulfill a 13-week training course in the American Army. So, I tell you, I know from experience how true this statement in [The Epistle of] James is. [45] [59]

Have we found here the key to the whole puzzling incident: the government’s dogged determination to press-gang [60] Neville like Billy Budd, only to then dangle a tantalizing offer of a get out of jail card, complete with citizenship? Once again, we see, perhaps, the unintended consequences of imagination; was the whole draft incident, seemingly absurd, the “bridge of incidents” leading to Neville’s desired naturalization as an American?

And in any event, Neville’s teaching evolved in a way very congruent to Evola’s aristocratic reserve and dedication to doing what has to be done.

51hQWvEIk2L.jpgAfter a mystical experience of being reborn from his own skull (Golgotha) in 1959, Neville’s teaching bifurcated: in addition to The Law (which became Oprah’s “Law of Attraction”), he also began to teach The Promise. The Law was given to enable you to live in the material world; the Promise was that you could then work to obtain union with God; a path suitable to the Dark Age:

One day you will be so saturated with wealth, so saturated with power in the world of Caesar, you will turn your back on it all and go in search of the word of God . . . I do believe that one must completely saturate himself with the things of Caesar before he is hungry for the word of God. [46] [61]

In short, Riding the Tiger. Interestingly, then as now, Neville’s listeners were more interested in The Law than in The Promise; they wanted him to return to stories about how people had obtained new cars and bigger houses. As Horowitz recounts [62] it:

Many listeners, the mystic lamented, “are not at all interested in its framework of faith, a faith leading to the fulfillment of God’s promise,” as experienced in his vision of rebirth. Audiences drifted away. Urged by his speaking agent to abandon this theme, “or you’ll have no audience at all,” a student recalled Neville replying, “Then I’ll tell it to the bare walls.” [47] [63]

Warrior or not, the picture of Neville standing on stage, lecturing to bare walls, recalls again Spengler’s Roman soldier, buried at Pompei because no order to stand down was given. From the start of his career:

He stood very still for an appreciable time, looking straight before him. Then he said, “Let us now go into the silence.” He squared himself on his feet, shut his eyes, flung his head sharply back, and became immobile. [48] [64]

And a few years from the end:

I know my time is short. I have finished the work I have been sent to do and I am now eager to depart. I know I will not appear in this three-dimensional world again for The Promise has been fulfilled in me. [49] [65] As for where I go, I will know you there as I have known you here, for we are all brothers, infinitely in love with each other. [50] [66]

It’s an attitude fully in keeping with New Thought, despite its reputation as encouraging an airy-fairy dreamworld attitude to life. Evola’s own attitude is actually not far from what the apostle of Positive Thinking, Norman Vincent Peale, would counsel:

The tough-minded optimist takes a positive attitude toward a fact. He sees it realistically, just as it is, but he sees something more. He views it as a challenge to his intelligence, to his ingenuity and faith. He seeks insight and guidance in dealing with the hard fact. He keeps on thinking. He knows there is an answer and finally he finds it. Perhaps he changes the fact, maybe he just bypasses it, or perhaps he learns to live with it. But in any case his attitude toward the fact has proved more important than the fact itself. [51] [67]

Or Biblical scholar — and Lovecraft authority — Robert M. Price:

We will never really finish. Our quests will be rudely suspended when the Grim Reaper taps us on the shoulder. “What the hell?” you say. Then why bother in the first place? Because it’s the chase. It’s the hunt. It’s acting without the fruits of action. You needn’t be bitter about it, like the fellow who wrote Ecclesiastes 2:21, “sometimes a man who has toiled with wisdom and knowledge and skill must leave all to be enjoyed by a man who did not toil for it. This also is vanity and a great evil.” No, it isn’t! Better that someone pick up where you left off! Pass the torch! Doing your part is all you can do, and that should be satisfaction enough. It is for me. [52] [68]


Speaking of the Bhagavad Gita — “acting without the fruits of action” — a somewhat similar attitude is demanded of us who would listen to Evola or Neville (just as Knecht’s sacrifice lays a burden on the pupil Tito); as John Morgan said in his speech on Evola:

The fact that we may lose the battle doesn’t mean that we are absolved of the responsibility of fighting it and standing for what is true. The best illustration of this that I know of comes from the Bhagavad Gita. . . .

And that’s how I see those of us here tonight. In spite of the million other things you could have been doing in this enormous and hyperactive city tonight, you decided to come here and meet with a group of some of the most hated people in America to listen to a lecture on Julius Evola. That clearly indicates that there’s something in you that has decided that there are more important things than just doing what everyone else expects you to do. So really, we’re already creating the “order” that Evola called for in order to preserve Tradition in the face of degeneracy. So let’s not despair about the latest headlines, but keep our heads up in the knowledge that, whatever happens, we are the ones who stand for what is timeless, and our day of victory will come, whether it is tomorrow or a thousand years from now. [53] [69]

Arguably, we have an easier time of it today; Neville allowed his lectures to be freely taped and transcribed, and they now live on through the intertubes; the books of both he and Evola are available in electronic formats you can read on the subway without fear of discovery. So ride that technological tiger! And as you do so, spare a thought for those who make them available, such as Counter-Currents, and consider what you can do to keep them standing [70].

If you want to support our work, please send us a donation by going to our Entropy page [71] and selecting “send paid chat.” Entropy allows you to donate any amount from $3 and up. All comments will be read and discussed in the next episode of Counter-Currents Radio, which airs every Friday.

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[1] [73] Exegesis, 15:87 (The Exegesis of Philip K. Dick; edited by Pamela Jackson and Jonathan Letham; Erik Davis, annotations editor (Houghton Mifflin, 2011).

[2] [74]Believe It In [75],” Neville Goddard, 10/06/1969.

[3] [76] Gianfranco de Turris, Julius Evola: The Philosopher and Magician in War: 1943–1945 (Rochester, VT: Inner Traditions, 2020), reviewed by Collin Cleary here [4].

[4] [77] See my Mysticism After Modernism: Crowley, Evola, Neville, Watts, Colin Wilson & Other Populist Gurus [78] (Melbourne, Australia: Manticore Press, 2020), especially the title essay, “Magick for Housewives: The Not So New and Really Quite Traditional Thought of Neville Goddard.”

[5] [79] Evola mocks materialists who think they have acquired “power” because they’ve devised a missile they can launch by pressing a button, while still being psychologically as underdeveloped as a monkey; see “The Nature of Initiatic Knowledge,” reprinted in Introduction to Magic: Rituals and Practical Techniques for the Magus (Rochester, VT: Inner Traditions, 2001); compare: Dr. Ian Malcolm: “If I may. . . Um, I’ll tell you the problem with the scientific power that you’re using here, it didn’t require any discipline to attain it. You read what others had done and you took the next step. You didn’t earn the knowledge for yourselves, so you don’t take any responsibility for it. You stood on the shoulders of geniuses to accomplish something as fast as you could, and before you even knew what you had, you patented it, and packaged it, and slapped it on a plastic lunchbox, and now [bangs on the table] you’re selling it, you wanna sell it.” — Jurassic Park (Spielberg, 1993). Evola brought the original Ur and Krur articles with him to Vienna and was reworking them into the three volumes that would appear in 1955 as Introduction to Magic (and apparently bankrupted his publisher: de Turris, p. 145).

[6] [80] Letter to Evola; see de Turris, p. 148.

[7] [81] De Turris, loc. cit., quoting The Path of Cinnabar (London: Arktos, 2012), p. 184. I have substituted the latter translation by Sergio Knipe, as the one in de Turris seems garbled: “I explained to Guénon that nothing of the sort could be of value for my case and that, on the other hand, he would have had to come up with a most potent spell to cast because it would have had to determine a whole set of objective circumstances: the air strike, the moment, and the point of the bomb release, and so on.”

[8] [82] “The first step in changing the future is desire — that is: define your objective — know definitely what you want. Secondly: construct an event which you believe you would encounter following the fulfillment of your desire — an event which implies fulfillment of your desire — something that will have the action of self predominant. Thirdly: immobilize the physical body and induce a condition akin to sleep — lie on a bed or relax in a chair and imagine that you are sleepy; then, with eyelids closed and your attention focused on the action you intend to experience — in imagination — mentally feel yourself right into the proposed action — imagining all the while that you are actually performing the action here and now. You must always participate in the imaginary action, not merely stand back and look on, but you must feel that you are actually performing the action so that the imaginary sensation is real to you. It is important always to remember that the proposed action must be one which follows the fulfillment of your desire; and, also, you must feel yourself into the action until it has all the vividness and distinctness of reality.” Out of this World: Thinking Fourth-Dimensionally (1949); Chapter 1, “Thinking Fourth Dimensionally”; online here [83].

[9] [84] “The end of your journey is where your journey begins. When you tell me what you want, do not try to tell me the means necessary to get it, because neither you nor I know them. Just tell me what you want that I may hear you tell me that you have it. If you try to tell me how your desire is going to be fulfilled, I must first rub that thought out before I can replace it with what you want to be. Man insists on talking about his problems. He seems to enjoy recounting them and cannot believe that all he needs to do is state his desire clearly. If you believe that imagination creates reality, you will never allow yourself to dwell on your problems, for you will realize that as you do you perpetuate them all the more.” 10/6/1969, “Believe It In [75].”

[10] [85] “All cause is spiritual! Although a natural cause seems to be, it is a delusion of the vanishing vegetable memory. Unable to remember the moment a state was imagined, when it takes form and is seen by the outer eye its harvest is not recognized, and therefore denied.” Neville, “The Spiritual Cause [86],” May 3, 1968.

[11] [87] You can hear him narrate it here [88].

[12] [89] “If Any Two Agree. . . [90]” March 22, 1971. Rather like the classic tale “The Monkey’s Paw,” a woman’s wish to be rid of a disturbing neighbor seemingly results in his death, leaving three orphans. In this context, one might imagine someone fervently wishing “to be rid of this meddlesome Evola” or some such thing; a neighbor, an academic rival, perhaps a landlady?

[13] [91] “Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest [92]?”

[14] [93] On another occasion, Neville’s idle wish to get out New York after a disappointing lecture seems to have sped up his mother’s not entirely unexpected death:

The war in Europe was on. England was at war. No ships were plying the Atlantic. They were going down faster than they could build them, and we were almost at war, and then came the month of August, and I received a cable from my family saying: “We didn’t tell you, because we knew you couldn’t come to Barbados. There aren’t any ships,” (and certainly in those days there were no planes) and they said: “Mother is dying. She’s been dying for two years, but now, this is it, and if you want to see her in this world once more, you’ve got to come now,” I mean, now. I received that cable in the morning, and my wife and I sailed the very next night. But it taught me a lesson: not to use this law idly, not to use it to escape, but to use it deliberately because you cannot escape from it. A series of events will mold themselves, across which you will walk, leading up to the fulfillment of that state. And so here I put myself, just to escape from the cold and the disappointment of the evening, in Barbados of all places. Then something happens, and I am compelled to make the journey, the last place in the world we intended to go. And we sailed at midnight, and got there four and a half days later on this “Argentine” ship. (It was an American ship, but it was called the Argentine.) Mother dies, as they all said she would, and I returned to the States with the knowledge of what I had done and began to teach it.

Faith [94],” 7/22/1968.

[15] [95] “The first step in changing the future is desire — that is: define your objective — know definitely what you want.” Neville, Out of This World, loc. cit.

[16] [96] See Magic, op. cit., especially “Opus Magicum: Chains” by “Luce.”

[17] [97] Evola’s relations with Anthroposophy are a puzzle to me; the UR and KRUR group included disciples of Steiner, and Evola maintained friendly relations with them, as with these three; see Magic, op. cit., “Preface: Julius Evola and the UR Group” by Renato del Ponte. His Sintesi di dottrina della razza even presents two photos of Steiner to illustrate the Aryan “solar” type. Yet officially, as a “traditionalist,” Evola had to treat Anthroposophy as yet another grave “deviation” and “counter-tradition” worthy of extermination, even by the National Socialists. Was he ambivalent to Steiner because of the similarity of their intellectual development — from German Idealism to esotericism? (Both essentially claimed to have completed the system of German Idealism [98]). Was he afraid of being accused of hypocrisy; or of having to admit, if the treatment had succeeded, that Steiner was a legitimate psychic researcher?

[18] [99] De Turris, p. 166; this translation of a passage from Cinnabar would correspond to p. 183 of the abovementioned English translation. Again, this seems garbled; “neither affected nor effected me” is nonsense, but Knipe renders it as simply as “remained unaffected.”

[19] [100]

The end of the Republic is somewhat disconcerting. It ends with a strange myth about the afterlife. In this myth, people have the potential to choose the kind of life that they would like lead in their next incarnation. The dialogue concludes on this oddly apolitical note. But I want to argue that actually the whole purpose of the Republic is to lead up to this issue of choosing one’s life, of what kind of life is most choiceworthy.

The theme of choosing your life appears throughout the Republic. It appears in Book I, Book II, Book VII, Book IX, and Book X. There are different ways of formulating the choice of lives. It’s the choice between the private life and the public life, the philosophical and the political life, the life of justice versus the life of injustice, the contemplation of reality versus the manipulation of appearances.

Greg Johnson, “Introduction to Plato’s Republic [101],” reprinted in his From Plato to Postmodernism [102] (San Francisco: Counter-Currents, 2019).

[20] [103] All terms used at various times by Wallace D. Wattles [104], author of The Science of Getting Rich and various similar books.

[21] [105] Out of This World, op. cit., Chapter One, “Thinking Fourth-Dimensionally.”

[22] [106] This, we’ll see, is the “serial universe” of quantum physics, or the “block-universe” of Michael Hoffman, who posits that the ancient Mystery Religions used psychoactive or “entheogenic” drugs to induce a vision of this state of total determinism and loss of agency, then proposed a liberating Savior, such as Mithras or Christ; see, generally, the research collected at egodeath.com [107]. Neville finds freedom rather than determinism here. If Neville were more than fitfully in a philosophical mood, he might admit that our preference in futures is “determined” as well, but might insist that the only meaningful notion of “freedom” is “free to do what we in fact want, unhindered” rather than “free to choose, include what to want,” the so-called liberum arbitrium. As he says in Feeling is the Secret: “Free will is only freedom of choice.”

[23] [108] “In essence, more than eighty years of laboratory experiments show that atomic-scale particles appear in a given place only when a measurement is made. Quantum theory holds that no measurement means no precise and localized object, at least on the atomic scale. In a challenge to our deepest conceptions of reality, quantum data shows that a subatomic particle literally occupies an infinite number of places (a state called “superposition”) until observation manifests it in one place. In quantum mechanics, an observer’s conscious decision to look or not look actually determines what will be there.” All quotes from Horowitz, “A Cosmic Philosopher,” in At Your Command: The First Classic Work by the Visionary Mystic Neville (New York: Snellgrove Publications, 1939; Tarcher Cornerstone Editions, 2016), reviewed here [109] (and reprinted in Mysticism After Modernism).

[24] [110] Ironically, Neville also insists that “Creation is finished,” meaning that all possibilities are already there, four-dimensionally, and need only be chosen in order to be actualized; no “work” is needed to “bring them about.” See “Faith [111],” where Neville compares his doctrine to Richard Feynman [111], who had recently received the Nobel Prize: “I didn’t know it as a scientist. I knew it as a mystic.” Feynman states in a paper from 1949 that “We must now conclude that the entire concept that man held of the universe is false. We always believed that the future developed slowly out of the past. Now, with this concept which we have seen and photographed, we must now conclude that the entire space-time history of the world is laid out, and we only become aware of increasing portions of it successively.”

[25] [112] Path of Cinnabar, p. 230.

[26] [113] Out of This World, loc. cit. Cf. Blake, as frequently quoted by Neville: “All that you behold, though it appears without, it is within, in your imagination of which this world of mortality is but a shadow.” If all this seems opaque, maybe you should see Nolan’s new film, Tenet; a commenter on Trevor Lynch’s review [114] says “Tenet is about belief. The main character is not conscious in what he does, yet his deeper self is looking out for him. Time doesn’t exist to his deeper self, only the present. There’s no point in trying to rationalise or moralise it all, what happens is what happens and that is that; much like life. Be in touch with your spirit, act in accordance with it, possess plentitude and be the true protagonist of your own world. You are complete, a part of existence and exactly where you need to be. Such is freedom. Surrender.”

[27] [115] De Turris, 167-68; he also refers the reader to his Elogio e difesa di Julius Evola: Il barone e it terrroristi (Rome: Edizioni Mediterrranee, 1997).

[28] [116] E. Christian Kopff, “Julius Evola, An Introduction” in Julius Evola, A Traditionalist Confronts Fascism: Selected Essays(London: Arktos, 2015).

[29] [117] See “What Would Evola Do? [118]”, the text of the talk delivered to The New York Forum.

[30] [119] See “Two Orders, Same Man: Evola, Hesse [120],” reprinted in Mysticism After Modernism, op. cit.

[31] [121] Hermann Hesse, The Glass Bead Game, translated from the German Das Glasperlenspiel by Richard and Clara Winston, with a Foreword by Theodore Ziolkowski (New York: Bantam, 1970), p. 425.

[32] [122] Culturally, at least; in the current economy, of course, Neville’s lifestyle seems more out of reach.

[33] [123] There’s no “sin” in being a merchant. Sure, some picturesque versions of Hinduism would claim (re)birth in a lower caste is some kind of punishment, but that’s just what you’d expect a “high” caste person to claim, isn’t it? Evola rejected such “moralistic” accounts of karma — remember, every significant event in one’s life is chosen before birth; he even disparaged Heidegger’s claim that “authentic” “Dasein” must feel “guilty” over its “thrownness” as mere disguised Christianity (see his Ride the Tiger, chapter 15). As Nicholas Jeelvy says [124] about Boomer who “just want to grill”:

Do understand that I’m not knocking these people. They were born with average or below-average IQ and a weaker will than others. This is something they have zero control over. Low IQ and low thumos aren’t crimes. These people very prudently do not want to be involved in politics — they’ve neither the ability nor the inclination. Indeed, they are forced into politics by the republican-democratic system and the concordant liberal culture of “the good citizen” who is engaged with grand ideas. Really, the best these people can muster is local politics, which is why they expect small institutions to scale up. To them, the American federal government is a massive homeowner’s association and the FBI is their local sheriff’s department writ large. Small minds (which are small through no fault of their own) cannot comprehend the nature of macroentities. If they knew what we know about globohomo’s various institutions and agendas, they would be so thoroughly demoralized that they’d either be too depressed to leave their homes or the human submission instinct would kick in and they’d immediately convert to globohomo.

[34] [125] For more on Don Draper, see my End of an Era: Mad Men and the Ordeal of Civility (San Francisco: Counter-Currents, 2015) as well as more recent essays here on Counter-Currents.

[35] [126] After the war, Evola was given lifetime use of an apartment in Rome by a princely admirer.

[36] [127] He left Barbados for New York City at seventeen, eventually became a successful professional dancer on Broadway [128], but also working such jobs as an elevator operator. “I made thousands in a year, and spent it in a month.” Evola boasted of never receiving a paycheck, but this is difficult to reconcile with the evidence de Turris presents of his desperate letters to various officials to try to continue his “stipend” from the Fascist government as the latter collapsed, as well as his journalistic activities; a “paycheck” may suggest subservience to an employer, but Evola’s “stipend” was hardly passive income; if he was a “Baron,” it was more in the style of “Baron” Corvo’s: fiercely independent, but often hand-to-mouth.

[37] [129] “With Neville there’s nothing to join, nothing to buy.” — Mitch Horowitz.

[38 [130]] [130] Evola, though a veteran, was unable to rejoin the Italian military forces because, feeling himself to be “more fascist than the fascists,” he had never joined the party, which was now required for service; see de Turris, p. 69.

[39] [131] “The Secret of the Sperm,” 1965. Hear Neville tell it at 17:50 here [132].

[40] [133] “A Cosmic Philosopher,” pp. 83-84. The lectures are covered in a typically snarky article in The New Yorker (from September 11, 1943!), “A Thin Blue Flame on the Forehead,” scanned here [134].

[41] [135] Even the frickin’ Chinese emperor in Mulan only drafts her elderly father because he has no military age boys.

[42] [136] See Beau Albrecht’s discussion of Sen. Bilbo’s book Take Your Choice, “Part One: Strange Times Ahead [137]” and “Part Two: Stop the Hate [138]!”

[43] [139] See Kerry Bolton, “Ethiopia Pacific Movement: Black Separatists, Seditionists, & How “White Supremacists” Stymied Back-to-Africa,” Part I [140] and Part II [141].

[44] [142] Horowitz’s speculations on the identity of the mysterious Abdullah are in “A Cosmic Philosopher.”

[45] [143] “The Perfect Law of Liberty [144],” 4/2/71. The Epistle of James reads: “Be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourself. For he who is a hearer of the word, and not a doer, he is like one who looks into the mirror and sees his natural face; and then he goes away and at once forgets what he looks like. But he who is a doer, he looks into the perfect law, the Law of Liberty, and perseveres. And when he does that, he is blessed in his doing.” (Chapter One).

[46] [145] Mitch Horowitz notes “This passage sounds a note that resonates through various esoteric traditions: One cannot renounce what one has not attained. To move beyond the material world, or its wealth, one must know that wealth. But to Neville — and this became the cornerstone of his philosophy — material attainment was merely a step toward the realization of a much greater and ultimate truth.” See “A Cosmic Philosopher.”

[47] [146] Op. cit.

[48] [147] “A Thin Blue Flame,” p. 64.

[49] [148] “Criswell departed this dimension in 1982” — Ed Wood (Tim Burton, 1992), final credit sequence. Criswell, a very Neville-like figure, also appears in Ed Wood’s last “legit” film, Night of the Ghouls [149] (1957, released 1984), in which a phony psychic (not Criswell!) gets his comeuppance when it turns out he really can raise the dead; again, be careful what you wish for.

[50] [150] “No Other God [151],” 5/10/1968.

[51] [152] Have a Great Day: Daily Affirmations for Positive Living by Norman Vincent Peale (Ballantine, 1985); September 2.

[52] [153] Holy Fable Volume 2: The Gospels and Acts Undistorted by Faith by Robert M. Price (Mindvendor, 2017).

[53] [154]What would Evola Do [155]?”

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

URL to article: https://counter-currents.com/2020/09/immobile-warriors/

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[4] his review: https://www.counter-currents.com/2020/08/julius-evola-the-philosopher-and-magician-in-war-1943-1945/#more-121292

[5] here.: https://counter-currents.com/2014/08/now-available-in-hardcover-paperbackthe-eldritch-evola-others/

[6] this: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wreck_of_the_Titan:_Or,_Futility

[7] there is no fiction: http://realneville.com/txt/there_is_no_fiction.htm

[8] And how can this be: https://youtu.be/O1cEjBxjmm0

[9] [4]: #_ftn4

[10] as the phenomenologists would say: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epoch%C3%A9#Phenomenology

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[17] How Abdullah Taught Neville the Law: https://maxshenkwrites.com/2017/03/24/how-abdullah-taught-neville-the-law-he-turned-his-back-on-me-and-slammed-the-door/

[18] [11]: #_ftn11

[19] Goddard Enterprises: https://www.goddardenterprisesltd.com/history

[20] an offer to buy him the building: https://counter-currents.com/2019/07/artist-autist-crowley-in-the-light-of-neville-part-2/

[21] rewarded with VIP tickets: https://counter-currents.com/2019/05/a-word-from-the-wise-guy-part-ii/

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[29] Myth of Er: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Myth_of_Er

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[32] Out of This World: Thinking Fourth-Dimensionally: https://coolwisdombooks.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/WB8A942.jpg

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[40] here.: https://counter-currents.com/2015/12/green-nazis-in-space-2/

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[48] marriage with a daughter: https://coolwisdombooks.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/S75Wrlm.jpg

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[60] press-gang: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Impressment

[61] [46]: #_ftn46

[62] recounts: https://www.harvbishop.com/neville-goddard-a-cosmic-philospher/

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[70] what you can do to keep them standing: https://counter-currents.com/2020/09/the-counter-currents-newsletter-august-2020-year-of-decision/

[71] our Entropy page: https://entropystream.live/countercurrents

[72] sign up: https://counter-currents.com/2020/05/sign-up-for-our-new-newsletter/

[73] [1]: #_ftnref1

[74] [2]: #_ftnref2

[75] Believe It In: http://realneville.com/txt/believe_it_in.htm

[76] [3]: #_ftnref3

[77] [4]: #_ftnref4

[78] Mysticism After Modernism: Crowley, Evola, Neville, Watts, Colin Wilson & Other Populist Gurus: https://manticore.press/product/mysticism-after-modernism/

[79] [5]: #_ftnref5

[80] [6]: #_ftnref6

[81] [7]: #_ftnref7

[82] [8]: #_ftnref8

[83] here: http://www.navigatingtheaether.com/2013/10/03/out-of-this-world-by-neville-goddard/

[84] [9]: #_ftnref9

[85] [10]: #_ftnref10

[86] The Spiritual Cause: https://freeneville.com/the-spiritual-cause-may-3-1968-free-neville-goddard-pdf/

[87] [11]: #_ftnref11

[88] here: https://youtu.be/6t6jGfUp5Ps

[89] [12]: #_ftnref12

[90] If Any Two Agree. . .: http://realneville.com/txt/if_any_two_agree.html

[91] [13]: #_ftnref13

[92] Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Will_no_one_rid_me_of_this_turbulent_priest%3F

[93] [14]: #_ftnref14

[94] Faith: http://realneville.com/txt/faith.htm

[95] [15]: #_ftnref15

[96] [16]: #_ftnref16

[97] [17]: #_ftnref17

[98] completed the system of German Idealism: https://counter-currents.com/2017/03/trump-will-complete-the-system-of-german-idealism/

[99] [18]: #_ftnref18

[100] [19]: #_ftnref19

[101] Introduction to Plato’s Republic: https://www.counter-currents.com/2014/05/introduction-to-platos-republic-part-1/

[102] From Plato to Postmodernism: https://www.counter-currents.com/from-plato-to-postmodernism-order/

[103] [20]: #_ftnref20

[104] used at various times by Wallace D. Wattles: https://www.constructivescience.com/2012/11/a-readers-question-about-original-substance-and-other-terms.html

[105] [21]: #_ftnref21

[106] [22]: #_ftnref22

[107] egodeath.com: https://d.docs.live.net/d97440f64d6c8811/Documents/egodeath.com

[108] [23]: #_ftnref23

[109] here: https://www.counter-currents.com/2016/12/lord-kek-commands-a-look-at-the-origins-of-meme-magic/

[110] [24]: #_ftnref24

[111] Faith: https://coolwisdombooks.com/neville-goddard-feynman-time-creation-is-finished/

[112] [25]: #_ftnref25

[113] [26]: #_ftnref26

[114] a commenter on Trevor Lynch’s review: https://www.unz.com/tlynch/review-tenet/#comments

[115] [27]: #_ftnref27

[116] [28]: #_ftnref28

[117] [29]: #_ftnref29

[118] What Would Evola Do?: https://web.archive.org/web/20191228161320/https:/www.counter-currents.com/2017/05/what-would-evola-do/

[119] [30]: #_ftnref30

[120] Two Orders, Same Man: Evola, Hesse: https://web.archive.org/web/20191228161320/https:/www.counter-currents.com/2017/06/two-orders-same-man-2/

[121] [31]: #_ftnref31

[122] [32]: #_ftnref32

[123] [33]: #_ftnref33

[124] says: https://counter-currents.com/2020/09/blackboxing-q/

[125] [34]: #_ftnref34

[126] [35]: #_ftnref35

[127] [36]: #_ftnref36

[128] a successful professional dancer on Broadway: https://coolwisdombooks.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/06/Screenshot_2020-06-09-Clipping-from-The-Tribune-Newspapers-com-1.png

[129] [37]: #_ftnref37

[130] [38: #_ftnref38

[131] [39]: #_ftnref39

[132] here: https://youtu.be/o3dtnDsy52U

[133] [40]: #_ftnref40

[134] here: https://coolwisdombooks.com/neville/neville-goddard-1943-new-yorker-article-a-blue-flame-on-the-forehead/

[135] [41]: #_ftnref41

[136] [42]: #_ftnref42

[137] Part One: Strange Times Ahead: https://counter-currents.com/2020/08/take-your-choice-part-i-strange-times-ahead/

[138] Part Two: Stop the Hate: https://counter-currents.com/2020/08/take-your-choice-part-ii-stop-the-hate/

[139] [43]: #_ftnref43

[140] Part I: https://counter-currents.com/2020/09/ethiopia-pacific-movement-part-one/

[141] Part II: https://counter-currents.com/2020/09/ethiopia-pacific-movement-part-ii/

[142] [44]: #_ftnref44

[143] [45]: #_ftnref45

[144] The Perfect Law of Liberty: https://nevillegoddardbooks.com/neville-goddard-text-lectures/the-perfect-law-of-liberty/

[145] [46]: #_ftnref46

[146] [47]: #_ftnref47

[147] [48]: #_ftnref48

[148] [49]: #_ftnref49

[149] Night of the Ghouls: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Night_of_the_Ghouls

[150] [50]: #_ftnref50

[151] No Other God: http://realneville.com/txt/no_other_god.htm

[152] [51]: #_ftnref51

[153] [52]: #_ftnref52

[154] [53]: #_ftnref53

[155] What would Evola Do: https://counter-currents.com/2017/05/what-would-evola-do/

lundi, 27 avril 2020

Développer une mentalité de guerrier

Landsknecht 2014 017.jpg

Développer une mentalité de guerrier

Ex: https://survivreauchaos.blogspot.com
Je ne sais pas en ce qui vous concerne mais je trouve que la situation dans notre pays se détériore à grande vitesse, en particulier pour ce qui concerne le nombre des "incivilités" de nos aliens, et leur dureté.

Nous assistons de plus en plus souvent à des actes criminels d'une violence inouïe, que le Gouvernement est désormais incapable de contenir et de châtier, quand bien même il en aurait l'intention.

A vrai dire, je pense que nous sommes assis sur une cocotte-minute au bord de l'explosion, et qu'il ne faudra pas attendre très longtemps pour que le couvercle nous saute aux fesses...

Aujourd'hui, chaque manifestation, pour quelque motif que ce soit, nous offre son lot de dégradations, de voitures brûlées, et de vitrines brisées. Les règlements de compte se font désormais à l'arme de guerre et en pleine rue, les agressions de toute nature se multiplient à une vitesse folle, nos filles se font violer à tire-larigot, et comme si cela ne suffisait pas, nous faisons rentrer chaque jour de nouveaux contingents de criminels en puissance !

En fait, tous les motifs sont bons pour passer au délit, même les plus futiles. 1500 voitures brûlées, tel est le triste résultat des "célébrations" de la Saint Sylvestre dans notre beau pays. Un sacré début d'année pour ceux qui triment chaque jour au boulot en échange d'une maigre pitance et qui en plus, perdent en une nuit le moyen de s'y rendre ! Mais il est clair qu'avec leur cinquantaine de véhicules de fonction, tous payés par ceux-là qui, justement, triment chaque jour, nos marionnettes au pouvoir n'ont que faire de telles considérations.

A cela, nous n'y pouvons rien, du moins à notre niveau. Ce que nous pouvons faire, par contre, c'est nous préparer pour les temps difficiles. Pour les prochains combats. Dans notre corps, notre âme, et notre esprit.

C'est le propos de cet article.
"Sur cent hommes, dix ne devraient même pas être là, quatre-vingts sont juste des cibles, neuf sont de vrais combattants, et nous avons de la chance de les avoir, car ce sont eux qui font la bataille. Ah, mais l'un, c'est un guerrier, et lui ramènera les autres."
Cette pensée d'Héraclite, déjà citée lors d'articles précédents, montre bien l'extrême rareté des véritables guerriers sur les théâtres d'opérations, y compris, dans une moindre mesure, parmi les soldats professionnels. Si une telle chose était vraie à son époque, on peut facilement imaginer à quel point elle l'est plus encore aujourd'hui. Quels seraient les pourcentages actuels, après deux générations pizza-canapé-télévision ? Mieux vaut peut-être ne pas chercher à savoir.

Cet article traite donc de la manière de développer une Mentalité de guerrier, de la conserver, et de la mettre en oeuvre dans notre vie. Ceci dans le but de posséder un esprit suffisamment fort pour le jour où les lumières vont s'éteindre, même s'il reste de moins en moins de temps.


Acquérir une Mentalité de guerrier

Lorsqu'on parle de "mentalité de guerrier", on l'associe presque toujours à l'agressivité et la détermination dans un combat armé. Or une telle mentalité signifie bien plus que cela, de même qu'elle implique un domaine bien plus vaste que celui des seuls affrontements en arme.

Une mentalité du guerrier consiste d'abord dans la capacité à surmonter les défis et l'adversité au quotidien. Elle consiste à posséder, comprendre et utiliser un ensemble de compétences physiques ET psychologiques qui permettent à un être humain d'être efficace, adaptatif et persistant. Une telle mentalité combinera de façon optimale la prise de décision, les techniques psychologiques, ainsi que les compétences physiques et tactiques apprises à l'entraînement et/ou par l'expérience.

Le but d'un guerrier est d'intégrer le psychologique à l'entraînement physique et tactique pour ajouter une dimension souvent négligée, mais nécessaire pour atteindre la performance maximale d'une compétence. C'est pour cela que les forces d'élite travaillent aussi dur. Il ne s'agit pas de "briser" la volonté des nouvelles recrues, comme les gauchistes et autres pacifistes aiment à dire, mais de développer la résistance mentale indispensable au soldat professionnel. Car si vous n'entraînez pas cette dernière activement, vous ne serez pas devenu un guerrier complet, peu importe les aptitudes physiques que vous auriez pu développer par ailleurs.

Vous découvrirez, avec un entraînement adéquat, que vous pouvez acquérir le pouvoir de surmonter n'importe quel obstacle et de changer vos résultats. Ce faisant, vous ferez ressortir l'esprit guerrier qui est en vous.

Si vous vous considérez comme un individu autonome et capable, alors vous devez agir suivant une mentalité de guerrier. Par vos pensées, vos actions, votre entraînement et vos capacités, vous travaillez à devenir une incarnation de la mentalité guerrière. Ce n'est pas quelque chose dont vous devez vous préoccuper seulement si vous exercez une profession martiale. Dans la grande tradition Française de l'autonomie individuelle, nous devrions tous être des individus capables et autonomes. Alors nous serons à même de nous protéger nous-même, ainsi que notre famille et nos enfants.

Ce qui est souvent oublié est le fait que l'acquisition de la mentalité guerrière et des compétences associées ne relève pas seulement de capacités tactiques. En fait, le développement d'un état d'esprit guerrier est un processus de construction du caractère qui débordera du cadre martial, pour bénéficier à tous les domaines de la vie professionnelle et privée.

Dans ce but, nous devrons travailler les qualités suivantes :

• La condition physique et la force
• Des compétences en auto-défense et au combat à main nue
• Des compétence aux armes
• Des compétences en tactique et stratégie
• Du courage physique et moral

Ce qui est souvent négligé, mais essentiel à un véritable état d'esprit guerrier :

• La capacité à résoudre les problèmes et à prendre des décisions
• La performance sous le stress
• La résilience psychologique
• La volonté de gagner
• La capacité de travailler en équipe
• Des qualités de meneur
• La conscience de la situation
• Des compétences en communication

Vous devez activement travailler ces compétences et qualités afin d'investir dans vous-même. Ceux d'entre nous qui les ont développées en rejoignant l'armée ou les FO et en servant ont dû le faire par un travail acharné. Bien entendu, d'autres professions développent aussi de telles qualités, peut-être sous une forme moins directement tactique. Quelles que soient l'activité que vous auriez pu exercer, l'important est de continuer à les travailler. Personne ne peut se reposer sur ses lauriers. Rien de moins qu'un engagement à cela, et vous perdez votre temps.

Si vous souhaitez évoluer vers un état d'esprit guerrier complet, vous devez considérer la manipulation d'armes à feu comme une simple progression vers un entraînement tactique plus complexe. Beaucoup de survivalistes se cantonnent dans une zone qu'ils affectionnent en particulier, ce qui leur est préjudiciable et ne permet pas non plus de développer l'ensemble des compétences et qualités mentionnées ci-dessus. Le but des stages et autres formations à la survie est de "sortir de sa zone de confort" afin de permettre ce processus.

Le principal malentendu parmi ceux qui "tirent" ou "cognent" est qu'ils ne réalisent pas que la capacité d'atteindre une cible est nécessaire mais pas suffisante pour développer l'état d'esprit guerrier et les connaissances tactiques réelles. L'adresse au tir ne confère aucune compétence tactique en soi. Ce qu'il faut vraiment, c'est pouvoir tirer, bouger, et communiquer dans un environnement de combat. Ce sont des mots très simples en apparence, mais ils décrivent parfaitement la complexité de l'entraînement tactique.


Être un guerrier, maintenant

Si vous voulez gagner la guerre, vous devez être un guerrier. Il en va de même pour les autres domaines, y compris la vie de tous les jours. Nous sommes tous capables d'adopter un état d'esprit guerrier, c'est juste une question d'engagement.

La plupart des gens ne comprennent pas ce que signifie être un guerrier. Ils pensent que c'est le genre de chose que des connards égoïstes diraient d'eux-mêmes, ceux-là mêmes qui ont besoin de justifier la façon misérable dont ils traitent les autres.

Un tel comportement est le contraire d'une mentalité de guerrier. Les véritables guerriers se mettent en danger pour les gens qu'ils servent. Un guerrier est complètement concentré, discipliné et agressif, non par égoïsme, mais au nom des autres.

Chaque général a un président à qui il doit rendre des comptes, et dans votre cas, votre président est votre compagnon d'armes, votre groupe, ou votre famille. Ce sont les gens que vous représenterez lorsque vous irez vous battre, et si vous voulez qu'ils gagnent, vous devez comprendre ces trois lois de la guerre.

Règle 1 : N'agissez que lorsque cela vous est bénéfique

"Si c'est à votre avantage, avancez ; sinon, restez là où vous êtes... Un royaume qui a été détruit une fois ne peut plus jamais renaître ; de même les morts ne peuvent jamais être ramenés à la vie. " - Sun Tzu

Tout acte comporte des risques. Quitter votre emploi pour partir vous installer à la campagne, investir votre argent dans une nouvelle entreprise, voire choisir une nouvelle orientation ou de nouveaux équipements pour être plus autonome : tout cela invite à l'inconnu dans votre vie.

Avant de faire quoi que ce soit, pesez le pour et le contre. Si la balance ne penche pas massivement vers le pour, alors abstenez-vous.

C'est une question de discipline. Prendre un risque parce que vous trouvez quelque chose d'intéressant, et non parce que vous voyez l'avantage que cela vous procure, est un geste indiscipliné. Au fur et à mesure que les obstacles vont surgir - ce qu'ils ne manqueront pas de faire - votre intérêt s'estompera. Vous aurez du mal à maintenir la discipline nécessaire pour continuer, et vous finirez par échouer.

En pesant le pour et le contre, vous savez à quoi ressemble la victoire, et vous êtes prêt à surmonter tout ce qui pourrait vous empêcher de la remporter. C'est une manifestation de l'état d'esprit guerrier.


Règle 2 : savoir ce qui libère la bête en vous

Nous avons tous des périodes où nous sommes proche de notre vitesse de pointe, où nous pensons avec acuité, où nous agissons rapidement, où nous sommes complètement concentré sur la tâche à accomplir. On peut appeler cela le mode "bête sauvage".

Pour être un guerrier, vous devez trouver ce qui déclenche la "bête" qui est en vous, et l'intégrer à votre routine.

Pour certains, ce sera par le physique. Ils vont se lever tous les matins à 5h00, se plonger dans un bain glacé, et poursuivre par une heure de sport. Tout cela, avant même de partir au travail.

Quand le corps est engagé à ce niveau, on sait qu'il pourra supporter 6 à 8 heures en "mode animal". La poussée d'endorphine va le porter durant toute la journée.

Pour d'autres, ce sera la méditation. Pour vous, ce pourrait être quelque chose de différent. Ce qui est important, c'est que vous trouviez ce qui débloque l'animal qui est en vous, et que vous le systématisiez pour pouvoir opérer au plus haut niveau chaque jour.

Chaque guerrier suit un rituel avant d'aller au combat, et quand vous trouvez le vôtre, vous avez d'autant plus de chances de sortir victorieux.

Règle 3 : s'engager à atteindre son objectif sans honte

Aucune campagne militaire réussie ne commence avec un objectif vague. Aucun général ne dit : "Nous voulons globalement gagner plus de batailles que nous n'en perdons". Il faut avoir une vision claire de la victoire que l'on veut.

La plupart des gens le comprennent intuitivement, mais ils se sentent mal à l'aise à l'idée de s'engager aussi intensément dans la réalisation de leurs objectifs. Ils ont peur de ce que les autres vont dire, d'être étiqueté comme une personne qui "se prend trop au sérieux".

Imaginez un commando qui réduit son intensité au combat parce que quelqu'un lui a dit que c'était "inapproprié"...

Vous devez faire deux choses :

1. Accepter que les personnes qui jugent de votre ambition et de votre orientation puissent ne pas être des acteurs clés dans votre vie.

2. Bloquer les périodes où vous êtes concentré à 100 % sur votre travail.

Pensez-vous que les soldats répondent aux appels Facebook pendant les combats ? Lorsqu'ils sont engagés, ils le sont pleinement. Rien ne les distrait. Vous avez besoin de ce même niveau d'engagement mental.


On peut appeler cela : "passer en mode clandestin". Tous les membres de votre famille et de votre entourage devraient savoir que lorsque vous agissez en mode clandestin, vous êtes plus ou moins injoignable. Ce que vous faites pendant cette période devrait être le plus important, parce que vous êtes complètement engagé dans le combat.

On pourrait penser que l'on sacrifierait sa vie personnelle en vivant de cette façon, mais c'est en fait le contraire qui est vrai. Parce que vous êtes capable d'opérer à un tel niveau, vous pourrez alors vous consacrer entièrement à votre famille lorsque vous remonterez pour prendre l'air.

Les vendredis soirs en famille, les rendez-vous avec votre femme ou votre compagne, les matchs de football avec les enfants, rien de tout cela ne doit être interrompu par le travail, parce que vous savez qu'il n'y a pas moyen d'être à mi-chemin dans une fusillade.

Vos enjeux sont trop élevés pour être autre chose qu'un guerrier

Être un guerrier revient à prendre les relations au sérieux. Vos relations avec vos clients, vos relations avec vos concurrents, vos relations avec vous-même et vos relations avec votre famille.

Un échec dans l'une de ces relations peut ruiner votre vie. Il ne s'agit pas là d'une hyperbole. Je veux dire littéralement que votre vie entière peut être minée si vous n'accordez pas assez d'importance à l'une de ces relations.

Heureusement, pour adopter un état d'esprit guerrier, il suffit d'avoir un carnet de notes et un peu de courage. Dans les heures qui suivent, vous pourriez mettre sur papier vos objectifs quotidiens, une nouvelle routine pour débloquer la bête qui est en vous, et un calendrier pour organiser votre vie professionnelle et familiale.

Ensuite, la seule chose qui vous sépare de la vie de guerrier est votre engagement.

Alors engagez-vous.

6 stratégies pour développer une mentalité de guerrier

1- Fuir les oiseaux de mauvaise augure. Lorsque nous recevons de mauvaises nouvelles ou que nous traversons une période traumatisante, notre réaction naturelle est d'aller chercher du soutien auprès des autres. Bien que la sensibilisation soit importante, le fait de savoir vers qui nous tourner pour nous soutenir l'est encore plus

Les situations difficiles nous plongent dans notre état le plus vulnérable. Nous avons besoin du soutien de ceux qui peuvent nous élever et nous faire avancer. Dans ces moments, nous avons besoin du soutien de ceux qui sont plus forts que nous.

2- Sortir le plus rapidement possible de la question du "pourquoi moi ?". Il est dans la nature humaine de perdre le contrôle et se sentir victime des circonstances. Lorsque les choses changent radicalement, un processus de deuil est souvent nécessaire pour finalement accepter la nouvelle réalité. Ce processus peut inclure le déni, la colère, le deuil et enfin l'acceptation.

3- Maîtriser la peur. La peur est aussi une réponse naturelle aux nouvelles et aux situations qui changent la vie. Pourtant, nous devrions toujours nous souvenir qu'il ne s'agit que d'une émotion, et rien d'autre. Si nous lui donnons du pouvoir - si l'on entre dans le processus du "que va-t-il arriver si..." - alors nous devenons paralysés. Il n'y a pas de temps pour l'inertie ou l'inaction.

72febf815e2a313f7edb19c5446a2daa--soldati-army-soldier.jpg4- Chercher une nouvelle "tribu". Lorsque les règles et les paramètres de notre vie quotidienne changent, nous devons créer un groupe - ou intégrer une structure existante - de manière à savoir que nous ne sommes pas seuls. Ceci afin de pouvoir prendre des décisions éclairées fondées sur des connaissances et des faits, plutôt que sur l'émotion. Nous avons besoin de gens comme nous.

Nos autres tribus pourraient ne pas comprendre, ou même approuver. Ce n'est pas notre problème. Notre guérison et nos progrès dépendent de l'obtention d'un soutien adéquat.

5- Prendre le contrôle de la situation. Ce n'est peut-être pas la situation que vous auriez choisie, mais c'est VOTRE situation. Choisissez d'en prendre le contrôle. Soit nous contrôlons nos circonstances (même les plus difficiles), soit elles nous contrôlent.

6- Se rappeler qu'une situation ne nous définit pas. Votre situation actuelle n'est qu'un morceau du canevas qu'est votre vie, un épisode passager plus ou moins bref. A une certaine époque, j'ai failli mourir de faim et de soif, littéralement. Une fois l'épreuve passée, je ne suis pas devenu boulimique pour autant. Certaines personnes que je connais luttent contre la dépression ; elles ne sont pas la dépression. Plusieurs de mes relations ont connu un échec commercial ou un divorce. Ils sont plus que leur situation professionnelle ou conjugale.

Nous avons le pouvoir de décider de la façon dont nous coexistons avec notre nouvelle réalité, de la mesure selon laquelle elle nous définit. La vie offre à tous autant que nous sommes un mélange de bon et de mauvais. La manière dont tout cela se manifeste dépend en grande partie de nos perspectives et de notre état d'esprit. Nous ne sommes pas nos luttes. Elles ne sont qu'une partie des personnes extraordinaires que nous sommes.

C'est en intégrant et en développant ces nouvelles habitudes que nous acquérons un état d'esprit guerrier. Il ne s'agit pas seulement de dégainer le plus vite, ou de cogner le plus fort ; il s'agit de développer les qualités à la fois mentales et physiques qui permettront de tirer le meilleur parti de nos compétences et de nos savoir-faire, le jour où notre vie ou celles de nos proches en dépendront...

15:37 Publié dans Militaria | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : militaria, éthique guerrière, éthique | |  del.icio.us | | Digg! Digg |  Facebook

samedi, 12 décembre 2015

La senda del samurai


La senda del samurai

por José Luis Muñoz Azpiri 

Ex: http://culturatransversal.wordpress.com

A la memoria de Moisés Mauricio Prelooker. “Es mejor prender una vela que maldecir las tinieblas” (Confucio).

Desde hace ya muchos años constituye un lugar común entre los “analistas de café” el célebre apotegma de un premio Nóbel de economía que sentenció: “Existen cuatro clases de países en el mundo: Desarrollados, subdesarrollados, Japón y la Argentina”, dando a entender que un país pródigo en recursos materiales y humanos no tiene nada y que otro, sometido a las adversidades del medio geográfico y a las trágicas vicisitudes de su historia lo tiene todo.

Dicha frase a pasado a integrar la larga lista de sentencias autodenigratorias con las cuales la “intelligentzia” y sus voceros que, pontifican respecto a la “nociva” experiencia histórica de los protagonismos populares y nos estigmatizan como representantes del pensamiento arcaico o resabios de ideologías perimidas y arrasadas por los vientos de una discutible globalización. Omiten destacar que el Japón pudo convertirse en un país moderno porque fue atípico, porque se aferró a sus instituciones tradicionales, porque mantuvo en forma inquebrantable su propia personalidad nacional.

El desarrollo japonés se caracterizó por un elevadísimo ritmo de acumulación, sobre todo de capital productivo. La reinversión llegó a la tercera parte del producto en el largo período de prosperidad que siguió a la Segunda Guerra Mundial. El capitalismo japonés fue fundamentalmente austero, no solo en los estratos superiores, sino en toda la población

Los gastos militares, que antes constituían el 7% del producto, se redujeron a niveles insignificantes a partir del gobierno del general Mc Arthur. Por otra parte, el mismo gobierno japonés impuso una reforma agraria más avanzada que la que habían deseado algunos reformadores. El desmantelamiento de las fuerzas armadas liberó a muchos técnicos, que iniciaron modestas empresas que después alcanzaron dimensiones gigantescas. El gobierno y la iniciativa privada incorporaron masivamente la tecnología de Occidente, sobre todo por el envío sistemático de gente a formarse en el exterior. Pero no renegó de sus propios valores ni abjuró de su historia y su tradición. Solo se admitieron las trasnacionales cuando el Japón pudo tenerlas y competir con ellas.

Ahora bien, ¿A qué se debe la austeridad del capitalismo japonés? ¿Algunos pueblos están predestinados a la acumulación previsora y otros al derroche por su carácter nacional o por un determinismo genético? ¿Existe algún fatalismo histórico que lleva a algunas naciones a la prosperidad y a otras a la pobreza y a la dependencia?

Indagando el pasado

En 1543, un barco comercial portugués que iba rumbo a China naufragó en alta mar y después de varias semanas de estar a la deriva encalló en la isla Tanegashima en el extremo sur de Kyushu. Los tripulantes fueron rescatados por los isleños, quienes repararon el buque portugués para que pudieran volver a su patria. Los portugueses, muy agradecidos, hicieron una demostración de “tubos negros que lanzaban fuego estruendosos y simultáneamente dan al blanco con una distancia de más de setenta metros”. El señor feudal de Tanegashima se asombró por la precisión con que alcanzaron el blanco las balas y compró dos ejemplares a cambio de una cuantiosa cantidad de plata. Fueron los primeros fusiles que se conocieron en Japón.

Unos años después, los portugueses volvieron a Japón trayendo muchos fusiles tratando de venderlos bien; pero el precio que lograron no llegaba al nivel esperado. Después de varios días de frustración, los portugueses descubrieron que ya en el mercado japonés estaban en venta gran cantidad de fusiles fabricados por los japoneses. Resultó que el señor de Tanegashima (Tokitaka, 1528–1579), al comprar los dos fusiles, ordenó a su súbdito, Kinbei Yaita, encontrar la manera efectiva de reproducirlos. Kinbei desarmó los fusiles y con la ayuda profesional de los herreros de espadas logró dominar la metodología para fabricarlos.

sam2.jpgLa técnica de manufactura de fusiles fue transmitida a Sakai (en aquella época era el centro comercial “industrial” de Japón; se ubica al lado de Osaka). Los herreros especializados en producir las famosas espadas japonesas dominaban los secretos de cómo forjar el acero y dar tratamiento térmico más adecuado para aumentar la resistencia del metal. Tenían sus talleres alrededor de Sakai y empezaron a manufacturar los fusiles con mejores resultados que los originales en cuanto a la calidad de la puntería y resistencia al calor.

Al principio, los tradicionales señores feudales no reconocieron el verdadero valor de los fusiles. Los consideraban armas cobardes e indignas de un samurai y rechazaron darles un lugar merecido en la estrategia militar. Pero la historia de Japón fue drásticamente modificada a partir de la batalla de Nagashino en 1575, cuyos protagonistas no fueron famosos caballeros con armaduras, lanzas y espadas, sino desconocidos fusileros.

Este episodio, y posteriores, se encuentra en el encantador e imprescindible libro de Kanji Kikuchi: “El origen del poder. Historia de una nación llamada Japón” (Sudamericana, 1993) de obligatoria lectura para quien quiera aproximarse al espíritu nipón. Con este incidente, se inicia una lucha de cuatro siglos contra las tentativas de los “bárbaros del este”, es decir, los occidentales.

Una sociedad jerárquica

Hasta 1867 existía en Japón una estructura de poder dual. El emperador, con residencia en Kyoto, resumía la autoridad religiosa y la santificación de la jerarquía social, pues otorgaba títulos y poderes nobiliarios, pero carecía de funciones políticas reales. El verdadero poder estaba en manos de los grandes señores feudales, los daimyos, entre los cuales descolló Tokugawa, quien dio su nombre a todo este período. El emperador era un personaje sin poder real, relegado a un papel simbólico, de carácter esencialmente religioso. El verdadero jefe de gobierno era el shogun, equivalente al chambelán de palacio de los francos, que ejercía un cargo igualmente hereditario.

Al servicio de los daimyos estaba la casta militar de los samurai y, en la base, los labradores (no), los artesanos (ko), los comerciantes (sho) y los desclasados (hinin, “no humanos”); todos despreciados y oprimidos al no ejercer la actividad guerrera, y sujetos a disposiciones rigurosas sobre vestimenta, prohibición de montar a caballo, etcétera.

Los daimyos y sus guerreros profesionales, los samurai, combinaban una difusa lealtad al emperador y a las antiguas instituciones con una despiadada explotación de los campesinos, cuya situación era tan desesperante que los inducía con frecuencia al mabiki (infanticidio) con el objeto de los niños sobrevivientes pudieran seguir alimentándose.

Los occidentales intentaron repetidas veces poner el pie en el Japón, aunque los shogun, en un intento desesperado de cortar todo lazo con Occidente – llegaron a prohibir la construcción de barcos oceánicos y a castigar con la pena de muerte el arribo de extranjeros. Pero todo cambió con la penetración imperialista: en 1853, cuatro barcos pintados de negro dirigidos por el Comodoro norteamericano M.C.Perry (1794-1858) aparecieron el la bahía de Tokio (Edo de entonces) y exigieron la apertura del Japón. ¿La razón?, aunque parezca increíble: las ballenas.

En aquel entonces, los puertos japoneses se necesitaban como bases de reabastecimiento para los buques balleneros norteamericanos. Los estadounidenses, conquistando la frontera oeste, llegaron a California. La población norteamericana estaba en franca expansión y la demanda de la grasa de ballena, una suerte de petróleo de la época, como aceite para las lámparas y la materia prima para fabricar alimentos y jabones, crecía cada vez más. Al principio, los norteamericanos cazaban ballenas en el Océano Atlántico, pero al exterminarlas (los cachalotes del Atlántico), se trasladaron al Pacifico y pronto se convirtieron en los dueños del Océano Pacífico del Norte. Los buques balleneros salían de su base en California y tomaban a las islas Hawai como base de reabastecimiento. Según la estadística del año 1846, los buques balleneros norteamericanos en el Océano Pacífico sumaban 736 y la producción anual de aceite de ballena llegó a 27.000 toneladas.

Estos buques balleneros persiguiendo cachalotes navegaron desde el mar de Behring hasta la costa norte del Japón. Entrando al siglo XIX, los buques balleneros norteamericanos aparecieron varias veces en la costa japonesa, pidiendo suministros de agua y comida, además de combustible. Porque la autonomía de esos balleneros que navegaban a vapor no era suficiente para un viaje que demandara más de cinco meses. Conseguir la base de reabastecimiento en Japón, o no, era de vital importancia para mejorar la productividad de estos buques factorías. Sin embargo, las autoridades locales de las pequeñas aldeas de pescadores del Japón automáticamente rechazaron a los buques balleneros y ni siquiera les permitieron desembarcar. Para ellos no hubo ningún motivo de discusión al cumplir la orden de la Carta Magna celosamente respetada durante siglos por sus antepasados. A nadie le importaba el por qué del aislamiento. No tratar con los extranjeros era simplemente una regla de juego que había que cumplir so pena de muerte, y punto. La ley de aislamiento ya formaba parte del ser japonés.

El Comodoro Perry volvió a la bahía de Edo en el año siguiente (1854), esta vez con siete negros buques de guerra, y llegó hasta la distancia adecuada para el alcance de sus modernos cañones que apuntaban al castillo y a la ciudad de Edo, y exigió de nuevo la apertura. El Shogunato de Tokugawa, completamente asustado, firmó el acuerdo de amistad con Norteamérica, concediendo dos puertos como base de reabastecimiento para sus barcos: Shimeda y Hakodate.

De esta manera, el aislamiento en que el Japón vivía desde el comienzo del siglo XVII fue levantado a la fuerza por la escuadra de Perry. Ese año arribó al Japón el primer Cónsul General de Norteamérica, Mr. Harris (1804-78). La misión del señor Harris era lograr la firma del Tratado de Libre Comercio bilateral con el Gobierno del Japón. Inmediatamente lograron concesiones similares Inglaterra, Holanda, Francia y Rusia.

Esto contribuyó a desprestigiar al Shogun, y el Emperador, apoyado por una parte de la nobleza, de los samurai que controlaban la flota y el ejército, y de algunas poderosas familias de banqueros, depuso al Shogun, destruyó el poder territorial de la nobleza feudal e impuso un régimen centralizado: un ministerio de quince miembros, fuerzas armadas unificadas, impuestos, administración y justicia nacionales.

El grito que surgió en Japón, sin embargo, fue Isshin: volvamos al pasado, recobremos lo perdido. Era lo opuesto a una actitud revolucionaria. Ni siquiera era progresiva. Unida al grito de “Restauremos al Emperador”, surgió el de “Arrojemos a los bárbaros”, igualmente popular. La nación apoyaba el programa de volver a la edad dorada del aislamiento, y los pocos dirigentes que vieron cuán imposible era seguir semejante camino fueron asesinados por sus esfuerzos de renovación.

Con la misma terca determinación con que se habían negado durante cuatro siglos a todo contacto con los extranjeros (salvo la curiosa excepción de los holandeses, que eran tolerados, pero confinados en una isla artificial) los japoneses se lanzaron a la aventura de vencer a los occidentales con sus propias armas. Se acusó al shogun – uno de cuyos títulos era el de “generalísimo dominador de los bárbaros” – de ser incapaz de impedir la humillación nacional, se le obligó a renunciar y se desencadenó un tsunami bautizado como “Restauración Meiji”.


La Restauración Meiji

Desde 1867 ocupaba el trono imperial un muchacho de quince años, Mutsuhito, quien adoptó en 1868 para designar su reinado el nombre del año en curso, Meiji (“gobierno ilustrado”). Los eruditos del culto nacional (Shinto) habían ganado mucho apoyo para su concepción de que el Japón era un país superior, por contar con una casa imperial fundada por la Diosa del Sol. Estas enseñanzas – que constituían en realidad la doctrina nacional japonesa – fueron rescatadas por los grandes señores feudales del sudoeste del Japón, que querían debilitar la institución del Shogunato para imponer su propia autoridad.

Cuando el Estado se configura como tal, a partir de la acumulación mercantil, elementos como la religión (transformación cultural del animismo, según algunos antropólogos), queda incorporado al orden estatal como regulador del consenso.

Se levantó así la bandera del “retorno a lo antiguo” (fukkó) y los jóvenes samurai, violentamente antiextranjeros – que se habían vinculado extensamente entre si a través de años de entrenamiento en las academias de la espada, y que a menudo eran pobres – se plegaron al bando de los daimyos del sur, y derrocaron al último shogun, entregando el poder al emperador adolescente, en cuyo nombre se había realizado todo el movimiento.

En 1868 los principales señores feudales fueron convocados al palacio imperial de Kyoto, donde se proclamó la restauración del poder imperial. Al año siguiente la capital fue trasladada a Tokio, y se inició la construcción del Japón moderno.

Para 1889 se había creado una monarquía constitucional fuertemente oligárquica, con dos cámaras: la de los pares, vitalicios, designados por el emperador y elegidos por los grandes propietarios, y la de diputados, elegida por los habitantes que pagan censo (500.000 sobre 50 millones que componían la población total. El apoyo directo del régimen lo constituía la casta militar.

Tales cambios no modificaron la situación del jornalero agrícola, ferozmente explotado, y fueron acompañados por el empobrecimiento brutal de los pequeños campesinos propietarios, que debieron vender e hipotecar sus tierras. Tampoco se evitaron totalmente las tensiones entre la casta militar y la nueva burguesía. Pero la estructura samurai, actuando sobre el capitalismo existente y el poder fuertemente centralizado, dio origen a un desarrollo aceleradísimo, que se benefició del éxodo de los campesinos arruinados y de los obreros agrícolas, empujados por la miseria hacia las ciudades, donde formaron un enorme ejército de mano de obra barata.

La centralización del poder permitió que, en lugar del tradicional laissez-faire de los capitalismos occidentales, se instituyera un fuerte capitalismo de Estado, que mediante la asociación con la nueva oligarquía, dio origen a una rápida trustificación, tanto en la banca como en la industria. El Estado creó y modernizó la industria del hierro, del acero y las empresas textiles, cediéndolas luego a los particulares. Se crearon instituciones bancarias a imitación de las de Estados Unidos, y los comerciantes japoneses, apoyados por el Estado, desplazaron a los extranjeros.

El período llamado Meiji significó así la estructuración en pocos años de una sociedad capitalista centralizada, monopólica, militarista, que producía a muy bajos costos debido a lo económico de la mano de obra. Estaban dadas todas las condiciones para que Japón se lanzara a la expansión imperialista y territorial, en conflicto con las otras potencias, y en primer término con Rusia, con la que debía dirimir la hegemonía sobre la costa asiática del Pacífico.

Pilares de la transformación

Los líderes revolucionario-tradicionalistas estaban convencidos que la fuerza de los países occidentales provenía de tres factores:

– El constitucionalismo, que originaba la unidad nacional
– La industrialización, que proporcionaba fuerza material
– Un ejército bien preparado. La nueva consigna fue: “país rico, armas fuertes” (fukoku-kyohei).

Basados en estas premisas pusieron en marcha drásticas reformas que significaron en poco tiempo la liquidación de toda la estructura de la sociedad feudal. En primer término se obligó a los grandes daimyos a revertir sus propiedades al trono, que era considerado titular de toda la tierra japonesa. Los señores feudales, en una primera etapa, fueron nombrados gobernadores de sus antiguos feudos.

Pero eso duró poco. En 1871 los gobernadores-daimyos fueron convocados a Tokio, se les entregó un título de nobleza, a la usanza occidental, y se les quitaron sus cargos, al mismo tiempo que se declaraba abolido oficialmente el feudalismo. Los 300 feudos fueron convertidos en 72 prefecturas y tres distritos metropolitanos.


No menos decidida fue la campaña contra la estratificación social que había predominado durante la época feudal. Era fácil otorgar títulos y generosas pensiones a los grandes señores feudales, pero resultaba mucho más difícil reubicar a más de dos millones de samurai y demás dependientes, sin dinero y sin tierras. A éstos se les concedió una pensión igual a una parte de su antiguo estipendio, y cuando la erogación resultó una carga demasiado pesada para el erario, se los sustituyó por bonos del tesoro, inconvertibles y de bajo interés. Se les prohibió también portar espada y seguir exhibiendo su característica coleta.

Pronto las pensiones y bonos se esfumaron, pues la inflación devoró gran parte de su valor. Por otra parte, los samurai carecían de capacidad para adaptarse a las nuevas condiciones imperantes. En 1873, el mazazo final: se instituyó la conscripción obligatoria, con lo cual los samurai perdieron su tradicional monopolio del servicio militar. Hubo motines, por supuesto, pero fueron sofocados. El más célebre fue el de Saigo.

Caballos desbocados

Después de la Restauración Meiji, los samurai que pelearon para derrocar el régimen feudal, advirtieron que habían sido utilizados y que su premio había sido la desocupación y la pérdida de todos sus privilegios. Al hecho de no poder portar katana ni la indumentaria que los había caracterizado durante siglos se sumaba la obligación de tener que trasladarse a Tokio (ex Edo) con el consiguiente abandono de sus castillos tradicionales y la separación de sus súbditos. Era el precio a pagar por la modernización a la que consideraban una traición a los valores tradicionales y nacionales y una imitación servil de todo lo extranjero.

Takamori Saigo, quien fuera Comandante Supremo de las Fuerzas Unidas Reales que derrotaron al Shogunato, surgió por propia gravitación como líder de los descontentos.
Por esa época, al igual que la actual, Rusia porfiaba en lograr puertos cálidos en el sur, que no se congelaran en el invierno (Tal fue una de las principales causas, sino la principal, de la invasión a Afganistán), en algún lugar en la Bahía del Mar Amarillo o en la costa coreana. Por ello el Imperio Ruso se interesaba tanto en Manchuria o en la Península Coreana a las que Japón consideraba vitales para su defensa. Saigo intentó resolver militarmente los dos frentes aprovechando la energía latente de los samurai ora desempleados y planeó la invasión de Corea. El rechazo a sus planes detonó la rebelión de Satsuma de 1877.

Fue la última de las grandes protestas armadas contra las reformas del nuevo gobierno Meiji, y sobre todo contra aquellas que representaban una amenaza para la clase samurai al acabar con sus privilegios sociales, reducir sus ingresos y obstaculizar su tradicional estilo de vida. Son muchos los samurai de Satsuma que en 1873 abandonaron el gobierno junto a Saigo, resentidos por el rechazo a la propuesta de éste de invadir Corea y por el proceso de reforma, que parecía hacer caso omiso a sus intereses. La rebelión surgirá por fin en enero de 1877, acabando con el suicidio de Saigo. Cuenta la tradición que se quitó la vida cometiendo el tradicional seppuku (harakiri) junto con trescientos de sus últimos seguidores.

Junto con Saigo, murieron los samurai como fuerza política vigente. Pero la imagen que dejaron, idealizada y embellecida, renació inmediatamente después de la muerte como símbolo de la ética del pueblo. El espíritu honorable de los samurai y sus almas nobles empezaron a buscar un lugar en el corazón de los ciudadanos comunes de Japón. Hoy se venera su memoria junto a las leyendas de los Marinos de Tsushima, el general Kuribayashi de Iwo Jima o los más de 300 pilotos Kamikaze de la Segunda Guerra Mundial.

Con ligeras variantes, este episodio fue narrado en las novelas de Yukio Mishima, las películas de Kurosawa o en la versión hollywoodense de “El último samurai”.

Cómo generar capital sin endeudarse

La abolición de los señores feudales y la expropiación de sus feudos hizo posible desechar el viejo sistema de tenencia de la tierra e instituir un sistema impositivo regular y confiable. Los líderes del Japón moderno estaban convencidos de que sólo podían y debían depender de sus propios recursos. Para obtenerlos no vacilaron en decretar un impuesto en dinero del 3% sobre los valores inmobiliarios, para lo cual se realizó previamente, en 1873, un censo agrario, determinando sus tasaciones sobre la base de los rendimientos medios en los años anteriores. Este censo permitió también otorgar títulos de propiedad a los campesinos, a quienes se liberó de todas las tabas feudales, dándoles entera libertad para escoger sus propias siembras.

Todas estas medidas requirieron cierto tiempo, y como implicaban cambios fundamentales, hubo momentos de gran confusión y frecuentes desajustes, que provocaron levantamientos y manifestaciones de campesinos. Sin embargo, la entrega en propiedad a los campesinos, junto con las enérgicas medidas adoptadas por el nuevo régimen para promover los adelantos tecnológicos y adoptar nuevos fertilizantes y semillas seleccionadas, produjeron finalmente un enorme incremento en la producción agraria. Sobre esas bases se construyó el Japón moderno, que en tres décadas pasó de sus inofensivos barcos de guerra de madera a una poderosa flota, con la cual el almirante Togo hundió en el estrecho de Tsushima (1905) a toda la flota rusa del Báltico, que acudía a Extremo Oriente para tratar de levantar el bloqueo japonés.

El impuesto a la tierra y la emisión de papel moneda avalado por los valores inmobiliarios se convirtieron durante varias décadas en la principal fuente de recursos del Estado japonés.

En toda su historia, el Japón sólo ha hecho uso de un préstamo inglés de un millón y medio de libras esterlinas.

Así, en el plazo de una generación y contando solamente con sus propias fuerzas, el Japón se convirtió en una gran potencia. Téngase en cuenta para valorar lo realizado, la extrema pobreza del territorio japonés, que obliga a depender tanto del mar como de la tierra para alimentarse. La alternativa consistía en convertirse en una colonia europea o norteamericana, a lo cual Japón parecía predestinado por su carencia de recursos materiales y su falta de tradición tecnológica. Eligió otro camino.

Japón probó que un pueblo asiático era capaz de desarrollar los adelantos técnico-industriales ostentados por los occidentales, y luego enfrentar militarmente a estos, aún derrotándolos, como sucedió con Rusia. El Japón, como ejemplo que demostraba la mentira occidental de una superioridad basada en la raza o en recónditas cualidades espirituales, contó con las simpatía del naciente movimiento nacionalista, tanto chino como indio, indonesio, vietnamita, birmano, malayo o filipino.


¿Imitación o creatividad endógena?

La autogestión y la imitación, ¿son en realidad dos polos opuestos? Un país que desee acelerar su industrialización debe ser capaz de reconciliar ambos aspectos, como lo demuestra la experiencia japonesa.

En 1875 el gobierno Meiji inició la primera fábrica moderna de manufactura de hierro, en Kamaishi, bajo la supervisión de un ingeniero británico. Durante veinte años habían operado allí pequeños hornos, construidos también conforme a un diseño extranjero, pero sin ingenieros extranjeros. Los hornos habían tenido dificultades financieras, pero técnicamente habían tenido éxito. Con todo, el gobierno ignoró esta tecnología tradicional y prefirió los métodos británicos. Los resultados fueron desastrosos. Al cabo de cien días se acabó en carbón. Después de un tiempo se reanudó la producción utilizando coque. Pero esto dio por resultado la congelación del hierro y el coque en el horno y, así, hubo de clausurarse toda la planta.

La investigación tecnológica e histórica señala las tres causas siguientes del fracaso: había una amplia brecha entre la modernidad de la tecnología en que se basaba el nuevo horno y la forma anticuada de producir carbón: la ubicación de los hornos y el sistema total de transporte no eran adecuados para proporcionar rápidamente materia prima, y el diseño del horno mismo era fundamentalmente defectuoso. Además, la operación era dirigida por extranjeros, quienes no tomaron en consideración las características del mineral de hierro y el carbón japoneses. Debe añadirse una cuarta causa, a saber, la veneración por Occidente que sentía el gobierno. Este fracaso inicial de establecer la industria moderna del hierro en Japón demuestra claramente los peligros de importar tecnología sin prestar atención a las condiciones locales, y también demuestra la ventaja de la tecnología doméstica, es decir, su integración prioritaria con las condiciones locales.

Si deseamos examinar intentos anteriores de crear un moderno sector de la manufactura de hierro, podemos volvernos a la historia de la fundición de cañones. Aquí encontramos lo que se puede designar como el “modelo de la autogestión /imitación”, que podría demostrar ser un ejemplo valiosos para los países actualmente en desarrollo. Los hornos de reverbero en Saga, Kagoshima, Nirayama, Tottori y Hagi se basaban todos en un libro en idioma holandés. Hubo un prolongado proceso de prueba y error: tan solo la mitad del hierro se fundía, los cañones estallaban al primer disparo, etc… Pero no debe pasarse por alto el hecho de que, en medio de innumerables fracasos tuvieron un progreso constante. En efecto, en solo unos cuantos años todos los problemas iniciales habían sido superados y para fines del período Edo (1600 –1868) habían construido alrededor de doscientos cañones, incluyendo tres con rayado en espiral, que eran el último avance en la Europa contemporánea. Pese a innumerables fracasos, la velocidad con que asimilaban la nueva técnica exógena nos parece sorprendente. Ha habido muchos debates acerca de las razones de esta velocidad, pero aquí es de interés especial la posición adoptada por el profesor Shuji Ohashi: Usando sus estudios detallados sobre la metalurgia del hierro en las postrimerías del período Edo, el profesor Ohashi ha mostrado tres etapas diferentes en el proceso de formación de la tecnología del fundido de cañones en Saga. Cada una de estas etapas tuvo su propia contraparte en el desarrollo europeo.

La primera etapa fue el fundido de cañones de bronce. En Japón, este período duró de 1842 a 1859, mientras que la misma tecnología en Europa había permanecido en la etapa del bronce hasta mediados del siglo XVII. En ambos lugares, constituyó la base histórica para el fundido de cañones posterior. En Japón, esta segunda etapa de fundir cañones de hierro tuvo lugar entre 1851 y 1859 y correspondió a un avance que tuvo lugar en Europa desde mediados del siglo XVII a la década de 1850. La tercera etapa, que data de 1863, se centró en la capacidad de hacer cañones rayados de acero fundido. Esta etapa correspondió al desarrollo europeo desde la década de 1840. Debe observarse que, aunque cada etapa cubrió solo un breve período de tiempo, Saga había pasado exactamente por las mismas etapas y en el mismo orden que Europa.

En este desarrollo, confiaron no sólo en su propia experiencia en el fundido de cañones de bronce, sino también en muchos otros logros de la ciencia y la tecnología locales, tales como la elaboración de ladrillo refractarios, la utilización de la energía hidráulica, la aritmética japonesa local y, sobre todo, la totalidad de la tecnología doméstica de manufactura de hierro. Los artesanos desde hacía tiempo habían hecho armas, tales como espadas y pistolas, e implementos agrícolas tales como rastrillos y hoces de hierro en bruto y acero. Las temperaturas de sus horno eran comparables a la de los altos hornos. Así, los artesanos tenían un nivel notablemente alto en el arte del forjado y la fundición, y estaban bien informados acerca del comportamiento del hierro fundido y otros materiales diversos en altas temperaturas.

Sin el apoyo sólido de la tecnología local y de sus propias experiencias en las tecnologías precedentes, no puede esperarse que tenga éxito cualquier intento de imitación. Esto está fuera de toda dudad. Pero ¿podrían haber alcanzado los mismos resultado sin imitación alguna?. Sin duda, pero posiblemente con mucha lentitud. El intento de imitar un modelo occidental sin duda los alentó.

Exactamente debido a que sus intentos de fundir cañones fueron una imitación de tecnología exógena, estos intentos fueron acompañados por problemas nuevos, previamente desconocidos. La resolución de éstos requería de un nivel de destreza tecnológica más alto que el que realmente habían logrado los ingenieros.

Afortunadamente, las brechas que se encontraban cada vez eran lo suficientemente pequeñas como para superarlas. Pero, debido a la presencia de estas brechas, el incremento de sus habilidades puede describirse mejor como una serie de “saltos” en vez de cómo un simple progreso.

sam6.jpgEl desarrollo tecnológico japonés ha conocido muchos saltos así, uno de los cuales, por lo general, se considera como la fecha de nacimiento de la moderna industria del hierro de Japón: el primero de diciembre de 1857 vio encenderse el primer fuego en el alto horno de Kamaishi, un horno de carbón que una vez más se basó en el libro único mencionado arriba. Claro está que, fuera de estos saltos, hubo fracasos, pero también éstos fueron importantes, ya que prepararon a los ingenieros japoneses para su siguiente salto. Esta característica (es decir, una serie de saltos pequeños) del desarrollo tecnológico japonés es extremadamente importante para los países actualmente en desarrollo. En la medida que los países emergentes pretenden alcanzar el mismo nivel tecnológico que los países desarrollados en un período de tiempo más corto, sus planes de desarrollo necesariamente deben diseñarse como una serie de saltos.

Los problemas sociales relacionados con los saltos tecnológicos también deben ser interesantes para los países que inician su propio desarrollo. Los saltos técnicos deben ser vistos en sus contextos sociales e históricos. Pues, aunque en sí es un logro tecnológico, cada salto siempre fue parte inseparable de algún movimiento social histórico. El primer salto surgió de la agitación que comenzó con el choque social ocasionado por la Guerra del Opio y la aparición de buques de guerra occidentales y que terminó con la caída del gobierno Edo. Muchos cañones fundidos durante esa época fueron disparados contra el gobierno de Tokuwaga así como contra escuadrones occidentales. El segundo salto, claro está, estuvo asociado con el gran cambio social después de la Revolución Meiji, y el tercero con la tensión internacional entre la guerra ruso-japonesa. Mas tarde, también, los acontecimientos históricos siguieron siendo el incentivo de los saltos.

Hablando de manera general, en siempre que Japón tuvo siempre éxito en utilizar la pasión nacionalista creada por los períodos de agitación, y emplearla como fuerza motriz para un salto tecnológico. Esto sigue siendo verdad. Por ejemplo, los dirigentes japoneses hicieron uso pleno de la crisis del petróleo en 1973 a fin de crear un sentimiento de urgencia que pudieron aprovechar para el desarrollo integral de tecnología economizadora de energía.

Respecto a los sentimientos nacionalistas como ayuda para crear un salto tecnológico, un período especialmente interesante de la ciencia y tecnología japonesas es el período entre las dos guerras mundiales. La Primera Guerra Mundial impresionó mucho a los japoneses con las virtudes de la ciencia. Mas concretamente, habían sufrido varios tipos de carencias porque hubo que detener ciertas importaciones, y admiraban a los alemanes por haber inventado materiales sustitutos, bajo circunstancias similares, gracias a su ingenio científico. La tendencia que comenzó con esta guerra fue la “ciencia de los recursos”, que significaba la ciencia para asegurarse los recursos y para la invención de sustitutos, así como la ciencia de los “materiales de los recursos”. El problema que Japón había afrontado durante la guerra fue una especie de “dependencia tecnológica” parecida a la que puede verse ahora en los países periféricos. En consecuencia, más tarde se recalcó la independencia respecto de la tecnología occidental.

El respeto a la propia cultura, clave del éxito japonés

¿Cómo puede una sociedad reaccionar a las influencias exógenas y desarrollar capacidades potenciales endógenas? El hecho de que ambas van de la mano se ha demostrado repetidamente a lo largo de la historia. Como hemos visto, la experiencia japonesa misma lo comprueba: Japón fracasó cuando trató sencillamente de importar el conocimiento, sin tener en cuenta las condiciones propias. E incluso Europa lo había tomado en préstamo y lo había integrado, ya que en la temprana edad de este milenio Europa aprendió mucho de la ciencia y técnica altamente avanzadas de las zonas culturales árabe, hindú y china. Este proceso incluyó abundantes ejemplos de imitación y préstamo. Pero, una vez arraigados en la cultura europea, estos elementos exógenos permitieron que surgiera la energía latente en las condiciones domésticas europeas. Y Europa comenzó a desarrollarse rápidamente.

Sobre la industrialización del Japón existen los excelentes estudios del profesor Kazuko Tsurumi, que rechaza la opinión que considera la ciencia y la tecnología como entidades independientes de la cultura de cualquier sociedad en particular. Cada cultura tiene sus propias formas tradicionales de conocer y hacer. Esto significa que habrá un conflicto entre toda la tecnología prestada y la cultura local del país que la pide en préstamo, conflicto que no puede resolverse sino en el momento en que la tecnología se haya integrado a la cultura. El profesor Tsurumi investigó los conflictos en la tecnología local de la manufactura del hierro en el período Meiji en Japón. Este enfoque se recomienda a sí mismo como un método tecnosociológico. Si comparamos los diversos conflictos ocasionados por la importación de tecnología en algunos países, podemos encontrar muchas claves para la comprensión de la relación entre tecnología y cultura social. No obstante, al comparar China y Japón, el profesor Tsurumi siempre parece considerar la autogestión de manera favorable y positiva, refiriéndose a la imitación en términos negativos. Pero sería imposible para los países en desarrollo alcanzar la industrialización sin imitar o tomar a préstamo tecnología. Tal el caso de nuestra industria metalmetalúrgica de aplicación agrícola.

Un país capitalista atípico

Como Rusia, el Japón llegó tarde al desarrollo capitalista. Pero a diferencia de aquella, a partir de la Revolución Meiji de 1867, el sistema feudal fue superado en forma muy acelerada, por un lado; por el otro, también a diferencia de la burguesía rusa, la japonesa, apoyada en un fuerte capitalismo de Estado, logró controlar férreamente el proceso excluyendo del mismo la presencia y penetración del capital extranjero.

La modernización del Japón, ocurrida de este modo, prácticamente se salteó el período del capitalismo de libre competencia, pasando en forma casi directa del feudalismo al capitalismo monopolista. La Restauración Meiji (1868) convirtió al Japón en un país moderno, aunque atípico. En realidad, tendríamos que señalar que pudo convertirse en un país moderno porque fue atípico, porque se aferró a sus instituciones tradicionales, porque mantuvo en forma inquebrantable su propia personalidad nacional.

Ese espíritu independiente se puso de manifiesto en todos los terrenos. En lo referente al desarrollo industrial japonés, este fue totalmente autofinanciado, y los nipones no pidieron el más mínimo crédito a Occidente. Los bancos controlados por el Estado y ampliamente provistos de fondos provenientes de la recaudación del impuesto a la tierra, suministraron todos los capitales necesarios para crear la industria pesada y la liviana. Una vez que se consolidaron las grandes familias (zaibatzu), dotadas de enorme poder económico y político, e integradas en algunos casos por parientes y amigos de los líderes Meiji, se les fueron entregando las plantas industriales. El desarrollo tuvo un ritmo impresionante, pero gracias al bajísimo nivel de vida de la población.

Al mismo tiempo, se producía una profunda revolución político – religiosa. Un decreto imperial de 1890, que amalgamaba elementos confucianos y shintoístas, estableció la política educacional del nuevo régimen. Las lealtades feudales fueron reemplazadas por la lealtad a la Nación, encarnada en la figura mítica del Emperador, como un deber patriótico ineludible. Se inculcó en todos los estratos sociales el ideal samurai del honor y la lealtad, que de este modo se convirtió en la herencia legada por los antiguos clanes dominantes. También quedó claramente en vigencia la veneración por los ancianos – rasgo típico de toda cultura arcaica – y los estadistas de mayor edad, después de abandonar la función pública, integraban una especie de gerontocracia, formando un consejo asesor que mantuvo en forma inflexible la continuidad y la coherencia de la política japonesa.

No se podría comprender nada de lo que ocurrió en Japón en estos cien largos años sin tener presente esta mezcla inextricable de lo antiguo y lo moderno. Y digámoslo con claridad: para que un país se realice debe asumir plenamente su destino y su tradición nacional, es decir, debe de tener como punto de referencia su futuro y su pasado.

En estos términos es posible comprender lo que ocurrió en Japón. En ese país se mantenía totalmente viva, apenas recubierta por un débil estrato feudal, la cultura arcaica, que liga al hombre con su tierra y consigo mismo, esa sociedad que el mundo occidental niega, porque lo toca demasiado de cerca, o que lo relega a los pueblos que llama “primitivos” (Véase al respecto las obras de Pierre Clastres). La Restauración Meiji rescató y permitió el afloramiento de dos aspectos básicos de esta sociedad, en las condiciones históricas muy especiales de ese aislado país insular:

1. la lealtad a la institución imperial, en la cual habían quedado sintetizados y simbolizados todos los valores espirituales de la aldea arcaica, y
2. el odio a los bárbaros es decir, hacia la civilización occidental, en lo cual no se equivocaban en absoluto, porque esa civilización representaba una amenaza clara de destrucción de todos sus valores esenciales.

Civilización y Barbarie

¿Por qué pudieron los japoneses afianzar su existencia como nación ante las presiones de todas las potenciales coloniales?

Disentimos en un todo con las explicaciones reduccionistas de ciertos “analistas” que atribuyen el desarrollo nipón a su espíritu imitativo y pragmático. Esta explicación, elemental por cierto, que atribuye a una civilización milenaria un supuesto deslumbramiento por la técnica y la cultura de Occidente, se da, como hemos visto, de bruces con la realidad, con la historia del Japón. No es otra cosa, que una de las tantas manifestaciones de etnocentrismo occidental.

El Japón evitó ser aplastado e impuso su presencia como nación porque se replegó sobre sus propias tradiciones, que se apoyan en el basamento inconmovible de la cultura arcaica, cimiento insustituible de una comunidad bien organizada.

De este modo se constituyó, como hemos dicho, en el heraldo de las reivindicaciones nacionales de otras naciones asiáticas. Lo logró porque a partir de sus propios valores, plenamente vigentes, antepuso ante todo lo demás su reconstrucción nacional, tras ser el único pueblo del planeta en sufrir una agresión atómica, aceptó una total austeridad, desechó todo lo superfluo y contando solamente con sus propias fuerzas se colocó en dos décadas a la vanguardia de las potencias industriales.

Comprendieron que en el dilema “civilización o barbarie” tan caro al pensamiento de nuestros liberales; que llegaron a importar maestras norteamericanas que ni siquiera sabían el castellano y esgrimieron la consigna para realizar una salvaje campaña de “limpieza étnica” con las montoneras del interior, que civilización es lo propio y barbarie lo extraño. Y los países que lo advierten tienen defensas más eficaces ante el intento la imposición del pensamiento único, mediante el bombardeo masivo de los medios de comunicación donde se ofrece un supuesto mundo racionalista y eficiente. “Un infierno climatizado que nos quieren vender como felicidad” decía Julio Cortázar. Un racionalismo que ha realizado un asalto despiadado e irracional contra el hombre y la naturaleza y una eficacia que se traduce en crisis y guerras eternas.

Al igual que el Japón, debemos afirmar que nuestro propios valores y nuestras propias esencias son más trascendentes, porque hacemos propio el certero axioma de Le Corbusier: “Lo que permanece, en las empresas humanas, no es lo que sirve, sino lo que conmueve”.

Fuente: Una Mirada Austral.

mercredi, 25 mars 2009

Metaphysics of War : Battle, Victor & Death in the World of Tradition



Metaphysics of War: Battle, Victor & Death in the World of Tradition

by Julius Evola, Integral Tradition Publishing, 2007

Reviewed by David J. Wingfield - Ex: http://www.rosenoire.org/


Metaphysics of War: Battle, Victor & Death in the World of Tradition by Julius Evola

Reviewed by David J. Wingfield

METAPHYSICS of War is the first publication of the Integral Tradition Publishing team and is the first stage of a projected endeavor to make Julius Evola’s thought and works more accessible in the English language. As such it represents a continuation of the spirit of the Inner Traditions publishing house, which first made Evola’s social writings Revolt Against the Modern World and Men Among The Ruins available in English back in the 1980s.

The book consists of a collection of sixteen essays on the spiritual and heroic aspects of war and combat, all but one of which appears in English for the first time. The material spans the fifteen turbulent years between 1935 and 1950, with the majority being written during the high tide of the European fascist experiment in the nineteen thirties up to nineteen forty three. The final piece of the collection, The Decline of Heroism written after the post war dust had settled, is a rallying call to the human spirit against the impersonal mediocrity of the encroaching cold war. It shows all the hallmarks of Evola’s post-war social Traditionalist thought, as expressed in the great manifesto Men Among the Ruins. Metaphysics of War therefore spans the period between Evola’s two major “political” works, starting as they do a year after the publication of “Revolt” and should properly be read against the philosophical bedrock of these books.

This is the voice of the political Evola, written during the time of his much maligned engagement with Italian fascism and German National Socialism, when he still considered these movements, despite their shortcomings, to be potential vehicles for a Traditionalist renewal across Europe. This will account for the rhetoric of fascism that permeates some of these essays. As such, it represents a personal period of passionate change and development in Evola’s philosophy. The metapolitical theme is a continued exhortation for the European peoples to transcend their stagnant bourgeois societies and the turbulence of their war ravaged times, by a sustained appeal to embrace the heroic traditions of their ancient heritage. In fact, despite his tacit support, Evola fell foul of the authorities in both Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy for his “reactionary” opinions and repudiation of purely scientific reductionist racism and was only able to publish outside the beady eye of the censors due to the patronage of some time National Fascist Party chairman Roberto Farinacci. Seven of the essays in this work appeared originally in Evola’s Philosophical Dioramas column of Farinacci’s newspaper “Il Regime Fascista”. This is a series of articles elaborating on Evola’s theory of sacred war mentioned in Revolt. The essay “The Greater war and the Lesser war” is taken almost Verbatim from the chapter in Revolt of the same name for a July 1935 edition of the “Regime” . Others appeared in the state organs La Difesa della Razza (The Defense of The Race) and La Vita Italiana. Others, such as the controversial Aryan Doctrine of Combat and Victory and The Meaning of the Warrior Element for the New Europe were produced during Evola’s abortive flirtation with Heinrich Himmler’s SS.

As always in his writings, both esoteric and social, Evola’s preoccupation is with the transcendent esoteric spiritual virility that he saw underpinning all traditional social and philosophical systems. As such he takes examples from medieval Europe, Islam, ancient Imperial Rome and Indo-Aryan traditions to underline his thesis. This is, that through the extreme existential existence of a warrior in protracted combat, an individual may overcome the limitations of human existence and partake in a level of human consciousness bordering on the divine. Thus parallels are drawn between the Nordic conception of Valhalla and the idea of the “Heavenly Jerusalem” envisaged by the Frankish crusaders, as a state of “immortal” being for heroic souls. The true warrior ethos and life can be seen in this view as a method of, or extension of an initiatory process. Evola deplores the mass soldier armies of the twentieth century and emphasizes the path of Holy War as an interior as well as exterior struggle.

Throughout the series of essays, The Baron outlines a theory of Holy War which goes beyond individual historical and religious concepts. For Evola, heroism could take two forms. The experience of battle could awaken “sub-human” animal instincts of savage ferocity and self-destructive bravery which transmutes the individual into a beast of prey, devoid of spirit and individuality. Evola notices that this heroism was notably present during the First world conflagration and is well expressed in the characters of Remarque’s famous novel “All Quiet on the Western Front” , where the protagonists of the book are dehumanized by their experience, despite acts of blind valour. This highly collectivized heroism is also a characteristic of the primitive “Races of Nature” and is evident in the behavior of Russian soldiers fighting for the Soviet Union in the early 1940s. For a member of a “Race of the Spirit” such as those of Roman-Germanic heritage, this form of heroism should really be seen as an involutionary process. Contrary to this is the second form of heroism, whereby the warrior accesses the root spiritual strength of his race in an exultation of victorious self-sacrifice and overcoming. Here a theory of holy war is developed, paralleled in both medieval Christianity and Islam, where the “Lesser Holy War” against external enemies mirrors the “Greater Holy War” against internal enemies with the same perceived characteristic traits. In this Weltanschauung of ecstatic and victorious self-overcoming even death itself is a laughable impossibility, for the hero achieves a divine immortal dynamism in the “hall of heroes” outlined by Evola in several Aryan traditions. Throughout Metaphysics, the author also delves into the idea of the divine feminine as initiatrix in the guise of the Germanic Valkyries and the Fravashi of the Aryo-Iranian Mithras cult. This is interesting to read alongside Evola’s exposition of the spiritual aspects of medieval knighthood in Revolt. Clear parallels can be made between the “true love” of medieval romance and the initiating spirit of divine wisdom she represents and the Roman and Teutonic “Goddess of Battle”, through whom the higher aspects of the warrior/initiate are “given birth”. Throughout his explorations, Evola is consistent in presenting the ancient warrior ethos as a viable initiatory ‘modus operandi’ for his contemporary world and presents a vision of how “warlike” ethics and a heroic spirituality can revitalize a moribund society.

Metaphysics of War is a lucid translation, which allows the reader to access Evola’s fervently intense prose and encyclopedic knowledge of Tradition with relative ease. However, this is not a book I would recommend as a starting point for those without a general familiarity with Evola’s life and ideas or grounding in the historical context in which the essays were given birth. Being a series of essays written over a wide span of years and journal issues, each offering contains a fair degree of recapping and repetition of core themes and material common to serializations. Saying that, however, this collection is by no means a dry assembly of “Evoliana” or apocryphal relics. Rather, these writings contain meta-historical insights and inspiration that are still valid and interesting, over sixty years after their writing. Interesting comparisons are drawn in John Morgan’s introduction between the aristocratic self-sacrifice of the Japanese Kamikazes of World War Two and aspects of the cult of martyrdom evident in present day resurgent Islam. Certainly the living Tradition revealed by Evola still offers food for thought in the fragmented world of the 21st century west, much as it did when this book was written. To conclude simply, this book is well worth a read and I look forward to future Evola related publications from this company.