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Friedrich Nietzsche Psychology Stefan Zweig

Apologia for illness

That which does not kill me
strengthens me.

der_kampf_mit_dem_daemon

Nietzsche’s body was afflicted with so many and varied tribulations that in the end he could with perfect truth declare: “At every age of my life, suffering, monstrous suffering, was my lot.” Headaches so ferocious that all he could do was to collapse onto a couch and groan in agony, stomach troubles culminating in cramps when he would vomit blood, migrainous conditions of every sort, fevers, loss of appetite, exhaustion, hæmorrhoids, intestinal stasis, rigors, night-sweats—a gruesome enumeration, indeed. In all his correspondence there are barely a dozen letters in which a groan or a cry of lamentation does not go up from every page.

A time came when his vocabulary of superlatives was exhausted, and he found no words to describe his anguish. The rack called forth monotonous cries, repeated with increasingly rapidity and becoming less and less human. They reach our ears from the depths of what he described as “a dog’s life.” Then, suddenly, like lighting in a clear sky—and none of us can fail to be taken aback by so unprecedented a contradiction—he announced in his Ecce Homo: “Summa, summarum, I have enjoyed good health” (he is referring to the fifteen years which preceded his mental death)—a fine expression of faith, strong, proud, clear-cut, seeming to tax with falsehood the groans of despair that had gone before. Which are we to believe, the cries of distress or the lapidary aphorism?

His vitality was less resistant during rainy and overcast weather: “grey skies make me feel horribly depressed”; heavy clouds disturbed him “to the very inwards”; “rain takes all the strength out of me”; dampness enfeebled, drought renewed his vigor, the sun brought him to life again, winter was for him a kind of “lockjaw” and filled his mind with thoughts of imminent death. The fluctuations of his nerve-barometer were like those of April weather, rushing from one extreme to another, “he triumphed and he saddened with all weather.” What he needed was a serene, a cloudless landscape, high up on a plateau of the Engadine, where no wind came to disturb the peace and calm. In this livest of thinkers, body and mind were so intimately wedded to atmospheric phenomena that for him interior and exterior happenings were identical.

Soon, however, the “dry” climate of Nice lured him south again, and after staying there for a while he went to Genoa and Venice. Now he longed for the woodlands, then he craved for the sea; again he wished to live on the shores of a lake, or in some quiet and little town where he could procure “simple but nourishing food.”

I wonder how many thousands of kilometers Nietzsche traveled in quest of the fairyland where his nerves might find repose. He pondered over huge works on geology, hoping to find the exact place where he might win repose of body and tranquility of mind. Distance was no obstacle to its attainment: he planned a journey to Barcelona, and voyages to the mountains of Mexico, to Argentina, to Japan. Notes were made on the temperature and the atmospheric pressure at each place he selected; the local rainfall was scheduled to the uttermost exactitude.

As soon as his mind had ceased to pity his body, no longer participated in its sufferings, he recognized that his life had acquired a new perspective and his illness a deeper significance. Consciously, well knowing what he was about, he now accepted the burden, accepted his fate as a necessity, and since he was a fanatical “advocate for life,” loving the whole of his existence, he accepted his sufferings with the “Yes” of his Zarathustra and, as accompaniment to his tortures, sang the jubilant hymn “again and yet again for all eternity!”

He discovered (with the joy he invariably felt in the magic of the extremes) that he owed to no earthly power so much as to his illness, that, indeed, it was his tortures that he had to thank for his greatest blessing. “Illness itself frees me,” he wrote; illness was the midwife that brought his inner man into the world, and the pains he experienced were labor pains. Henceforward the tortured poet-philosopher sang a pæan of gratitude to “holy suffering,” recognizing that through suffering alone can man attain to knowledge. “Great suffering is the ultimate liberator of the mind, it alone constrains us to plunge into our innermost depths,” and he who has suffered “even unto the agony of death” has the right to pronounce the words: “I know life better because I have so often been on the verge of losing it.” It was out of torment, it was when he was upon the rack, that he formulated his creed.

Like all those possessed by the daimon, he was a slave to his own ecstasy. Health! Health! This was the device inscribed upon his banner. Health was the standard of every value, the aim of life, the meaning of the universe. After ten years of groping in the dark, suffocating with torments, he quelled his groans so as to intone a hymn of praise in honour of vitality, of brute force, of power-intoxicated strength.

In Ecce Homo he boasted of his unfailing health, denied that he had ever been ill; and yet this book was penned on the eve of his mental breakdown. His pæan was not sung to life triumphant but, alas, to his own death. No longer are we listening to the ideas of a scientifically trained mind but to the incoherent words of the daimon which had taken possession of its victim. The euphoria of this penultimate phase is a well-known symptom preceding the final collapse.

Ideas flowed from him like a cascade of fire, his tongue spoke with a primitive eloquence, music invaded every nook and cranny of his being. Withersoever he looked, he saw the reign of peace. Passers-by smiled at him as he roamed the streets. Every letter he wrote conveyed a divine message, glowed with happiness. In the last letter he was fated to write, he said to Peter Gast: “Sing me a new song: the world is transfigured and the heavens rejoice.” Out of the same heavens came the bolt which laid him low, mingling in an indissoluble interval of time every suffering and every beatitude.

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Friedrich Nietzsche Pseudoscience Psychiatry Richard Wagner Stefan Zweig

A response to Kurwenal

Or:

Why am I reproducing excerpts of Zweig’s book?



In the other thread Kurwenal asked me:

Would it not be more enriching to find out why Rosenberg considered Nietzsche to be one of us rather than to discuss which Jewish author gives a more or less faithful account of Nietzsche’s life and theories.

I see your point, and let me say that this blog has paid due homage to Nietzsche in that sense. See these entries:

“Atheist scum”

“Quotable quote”

“Nietzsche on the Aryan race”

“Nietzsche on the institution of marriage”

Kurwenal again:

By the way, if you can spare one hour of your time, I have tried to summarize the importance of Wagner and Nietzsche for our cause [links to Counter-Currents added].

I am a huge fan of Richard Wagner too. A couple of days ago for example I had to do some driving in Mexico City and the only way I could protect my mind from the nasty surroundings was precisely by listening the complete Second Act of Parsifal. It worked! I didn’t feel so depressed even when navigating in a sea of non-white troglodytes.

But there’s something more as to why I am excerpting Zweig, and it is so important that I will promote this response as a separate blog entry.

The reason that many years ago I read Zweig’s book and Ross’ and Janz’s biographies of Nietzsche has nothing to do with the discussion in this thread. It has to do with my quest about why Nietzsche, and many other people, lost their minds.

Before arriving to the nationalist camp my field of interest was advancing a counter-hypothesis to the medical model of mental disorders, insofar as I believe that biological psychiatry is a pseudoscience. That’s what, originally, moved me to read thick volumes originally written in German about Nietzsche’s life.

One of my dreams is that, if an ethno-state is formed in North America, their architects will do tabula rasa on the fraudulent professions of mental health (a “therapeutic state” as some critics of psychiatry say). White people will have to rediscover a field of research that the current System started to bury since the late 1970s, and especially in the 80s and 90s. Presently very few remember the trauma model of mental disorders (I started a Wikipedia article under that title). And my big hope is that this model, which unlike biopsychiatry is not unscientific, will be considered very seriously in the new white nation.

The gist of this model is that biographical narrative is pivotal to understand the personal tragedies that drive some people mad. That is the reason why I am adding chapter excerpts of Zweig’s The Struggle with the Daimon. It has nothing to do with a desire to pathologize Nietzsche. As you can see in my linked posts above, he obviously had great insights on important subjects. But we also got to understand why some people with perfectly healthy brains suffer permanent psychotic breakdowns.

This is a “software” problem of the human mind, not a “hardware” problem as the current System wants us to believe. (See my book Hojas Susurrantes for a full explanation of it.)

Categories
Friedrich Nietzsche Stefan Zweig

Twofold portrait

der_kampf_mit_dem_daemon

To obtain a real likeness of the man, we need to see him in his actual surroundings. What were they? A dinning-room in some modest boarding-house, quarters in an equally modest hotel among the Swiss mountains or on the Italian Riviera; insignificant fellow-boarders, for the most part elderly females, experts in small talk.

Quietly and even timidly he sought the place reserved to him at the table, and he remained shrouded in an uncanny silence during the meal. One felt that this was a man who dwelt among the shadows, a man beyond the pale of human society and conversation, one who winced at the slightest noise. He would bow courteously to his fellow-guests, wishing them politely “God day”; and in return his fellow-guests would with equal polite indifference greet “the German professor.” There was never any wine or beer or coffee served where he sat; he smoked neither cigar nor cigarette after meals.

Immediately the meal was ended he would retire to his room, a typical chambre garnie, exiguous and chilly and dowdy. The table was usually littered with sheets of manuscript, with jottings on scraps of paper, with proofs. Not a flower, not an ornament, hardly a book, seldom a letter would be found.

One fine day he might take a stroll, but he would invariably go alone, alone with his thoughts. Never did he encounter a soul to cheer him, never did he have a companion, never did he meet an acquaintance. He hated gray weather, rain, snow which dazzled his eyes; and during such inclement days he would remain a prisoner in his dingy room. He never paid calls, never came in touch with other human beings. Of an evening he supped on a few biscuits and very weak tea, which having swallowed, he would resume his endless communing with his thoughts. A gulp of chloral or another soporific, and he would snatch at sleep, a sleep which is the facile boon of those who do not think overmuch and who are not perpetually harassed by the daimons.

Everywhere he went, the chambre garnie was the same. The names of the towns he visited changed from Sorrento to Turin, from Venice to Nice or Marienbad, but the chambre garnie remained identical, a rented room, a room totally lacking in any feeling of home.

During all the years of his pilgrimage he never once put up in friendly and cheerful surroundings, never at night felt the warm body of a woman pressing against him; never did the sun rise to see him famous, after a thousand nights of dark and silent labour. How immeasurably vaster was Nietzsche’s loneliness than is the picturesque highland of Sils-Maria where between luncheon and tea our tourists wander in the hope of capturing some of the glamour that clings to a spot sanctified by his presence. Nietzsche’s solitude was as wide as the world; it spread over the whole of his life until the very end. Conversation wearied and irritated him who constantly gnawed at his own vitals and whose hunger for himself, and himself alone, was never satiated.


_____________

Chechar’s note:

Of course: these are only excerpts of a chapter of The Struggle with the Daimon, as in earlier or later installments of this series. A new edition of Zweig’s book, with syntax modified for readers of our century (I prefer the 1930 edition that I quote by direct typing from the text), is now available in the market.

Categories
Friedrich Nietzsche Psychology Stefan Zweig

A one-man drama

der_kampf_mit_dem_daemon

The tragedy of Friedrich Nietzsche’s life was that it happened to be a one-man show, a monodrama wherein no other actor entered upon the stage: not a soul is at his side to succour him; no woman is there to soften by her ever-present sympathy the stresses of the atmosphere. Every action takes its birth in him, and its repercussions are felt by him alone. Not one person ventures to enter wholeheartedly into the innermost sanctum of Nietzsche’s destiny; the poet-philosopher is doomed to speak, to struggle, to suffer alone. He converses with no one, and no one has anything to say to him. What is even more terrible is that none hearken to his voice.

In this unique tragedy, Friedrich Nietzsche had neither fellow-actors nor audience, neither stage nor scenery nor costume; the drama ran its course in a spaceless realm of thought. Basel, Naumburg, Nice, Sorrento, Sils-Maria, Genoa, and so forth are so many names serving as milestones on his life’s road; they were never abiding-places, never a home. The scene having once been set, it remained the same till the curtain was rung down; it was composed of isolation, of solitude, of that agonizing loneliness which Nietzsche’s own thoughts gathered around him and with which he was entrapped as by an impenetrable bell-glass, a solitude wherein there were no flowers or colours or music or beasts or men, a solitude whence even God was excluded, the dead and petrified solitude of some primeval world which existed long ago or may come into being æons hence.

At first, while he was professor of Basel University and could speak his mind from the professorial chair, and while Wagner’s friendship thrust him into the limelight, Nietzsche’s words drew attentive listeners; but the more he delved into his own mind, the more he plunged into the depths of time, the less did he find responsive echoes. One by one his friends, and even strangers, rose to their feet and withdrew affrighted at the sound of his monologue, which became wilder and more ecstatic as the philosopher warmed to his task. Thus was he left terribly alone, upon the stage of his fate. Gradually the solitary actor grew disquieted by the fact that he was talking into the void; he raised his voice, shouted, gesticulated, hoping to find a response even if it were no better than a contradiction.

Thus the drama was played to a finish before empty seats, and no one guessed that the mightiest tragedy of the nineteenth century was unrolling itself before men’s eyes. Such was Friedrich Nietzsche’s tragedy, and it had its roots in his utter loneliness. Unexampled was the way in which an inordinate wealth of thought and feeling confronted a world monstrously void and impenetrably silent. The daimon within him hounded him out of his world and his day, chasing him to the uttermost marge of his own being.

Nietzsche never tried to evade the demands of the monster whose grip he felt. The harder the blows, the more resonantly did the unflawed metal of his will respond. And upon this anvil, brought to red heat by passion, the hammer descended with increased vigour, forging the slogan which was ultimately to steel his mind to every attack. “The greatness of man; amor fati; never desiring to change what has happened in the past; what will happen in the future and throughout eternity; not merely to bear the inevitable, still less to mask it, but to love it.”

This fervent love-song to the Powers smothers the cry of his heart. Thrown to earth, oppressed by the mutism of the world, gnawed by the bitterness and sorrow, he never once raised his hands to implore a respite. Quite otherwise! He demanded to be yet further tortured, to become yet more isolated, to be granted yet deeper trials; the greatest to which mortal man can be put. “O will of my soul that I call fate, thou who art in me and above me, take care of me and preserve me for a great destiny.”

Categories
Friedrich Nietzsche Goethe Psychology Stefan Zweig

Master Builders

A Typology of the Spirit

by Stefan Zweig

der_kampf_mit_dem_daemon

Translated from the German
by Eden and Cedar Paul
Viking Press, 1930

PART TWO

The Struggle with the Daimon

Hölderlin
Kleist
Nietzsche



Excerpted from the introduction:

Hölderlin, Kleist, and Nietzsche are obviously alike even in respect of the outward circumstances of their lives; they stand under the same horoscopical aspect. One and all they were hunted by an overwhelming, a so-to-say superhuman power, were hunted out of the warmth and cosiness of ordinary experience into a cyclone of devastating passion, to perish prematurely amid storms of mental disorder, and one of them by suicide.

A power greater than theirs was working within them, so that they felt themselves rushing aimlessly through the void. In their rare moments of full awareness of self, they knew that their actions were not the outcome of their own volition but that they were thralls, were possessed (in both senses of the word) by a higher power, the daimonic.

I term “daimonic” the unrest that is in us all, driving each of us out of himself into the elemental. It seems as if nature had implanted into every mind an inalienable part of the primordial chaos, and as if this part were interminably striving—with tense passion—to rejoin the superhuman, suprasensual medium whence it derives. The daimon is the incorporation of that tormenting leaven which impels our being (otherwise quiet and almost inert) towards danger, immoderation, ecstasy, renunciation, and even self-destruction. But in those of common clay, this factor of our composition which is both precious and perilous proves comparatively ineffective, is speedily absorbed and consumed. In such persons only at rare moments, during the crises of puberty or when, through love or the generative impulse, the inward cosmos is heated to the boiling point, does the longing to escape from the familiar groove, to renounce the trite and the common-place, exert its mysterious way. For the daimon cannot make its way back to the infinite which is his home except by ruthlessly destroying the finite and the earthly which restrains him, by destroying the body wherein, for a season, he is housed.

Thus it comes to pass that everyone whose nature excels the commonplace, everyone whose impulses are creative, wrestles perforce with his daimon. This is a combat of titans, a struggle between lovers, the most splendid contest in which we mortals can engage. Many succumb to the daimon’s fierce onslaught as the woman succumbs to the passion of the impetuous male; they are overpowered by his preponderant strength; they feel themselves joyfully permeated by the fertilizing element. Many subjugate him; their cold, resolute, purposive will constrains his ardours to accept their guidance even while he animates their energies.

Hölderlin, Kleist and Nietzsche were the Promethean race which is in revolt against customary forms and tends thereby to destroy itself. There is no art worthy of the name without daimonism, no great art that does not voice the music of the spheres.

The first thing that is obvious in Hölderlin, Kleist, and Nietzsche is their detachment from the world. The daimon plucks away from realities those whom he holds in his grip. Not one of the three had wife or children, any more than had their congeners Beethoven and Michelangelo; they had neither fixed home nor permanent possessions, neither settled occupation nor secure footing in the world. They were nomads, vagrants, eccentrics; they were despised and rejected; they lived in the shadows. Not one of them ever had a bed to call his own; they sat in hired chairs, wrote at hired desks, and wandered from one lodging-house to another. Nowhere did they take root; not even Eros could establish binding ties for those whom the jealous daimon had espoused. Their friendships were transitory, their appointments fugitive, their work unremunerative; they stood ever in vacant spaces and created in the void. Thus their existence was like that of shooting stars, which flash on indeterminable paths, whereas Goethe circled in a fixed orbit.

For Kleist, Hölderlin and Nietzsche, living was not to be learned, nor worth learning. Fire became their element; flame, their mode of activity; and their lives were perpetually scorched in the furnaces which alone made their work possible. As time went on, they grew even more lonely, more estranged from the world of men. To the daemonic temperament reality seems inadequate: Hölderlin, Kleist, and Nietzsche, each in his own way, were rebels against the existing order.

The formula of Goethe’s life was the circle, a closed curve; that of an existence perfectly rounded and self-contained; the daimonics’ curve is the parabola: a steep, impetuous ascent, an uprush into limitless space, a brusque change of direction, followed by no less a steep, a no less impetuous decline. The climax, both in respect of imaginative creation and in respect to the artist’s personal life, is reached immediately after the fall. Goethe’s death, on the other hand, is an inconspicuous point in the circle; but the life of the daimonic terminates in an explosion or a conflagration. In the latter case death compensates for the material poverty of life.

Invariably, even in the most perplexing and most dangerous manifestations, the creative genius has a value supreme over other values, a meaning profounder than that of all other meanings.

Categories
Friedrich Nietzsche Philosophy

Was Nietzsche one of us?

Below, some passages of Friedrich Nietzsche’s Ecce homo, translated by Anthony Ludovici:

§ There was not a single abortion that was lacking among them—no, not even the anti-Semite. Poor Wagner!

§ My whole life is essentially a proof of this remark. In vain have I sought among them for a sign of tact and delicacy towards myself. Among Jews I did indeed find it, but not among Germans. I am so constituted as to be gentle and kindly to every one—I have the right not to draw distinctions—, but this does not prevent my eyes from being open.

N

§ Above all, I have to direct an attack against the German people, who, in matters of the spirit, grow every day more indolent, poorer in instincts, and more honest, who, with an appetite for which they are to be envied, continue to diet themselves on contradictions, and gulp down “Faith” in company with science, Christian love together with anti-Semitism, and the will to power (to the “Empire”), dished up with the gospel of the humble, without showing the slightest signs of indigestion.

§ There is such a thing as the writing of history according to the lights of Imperial Germany; there is, I fear, anti-Semitic history—there is also history written with an eye to the Court, and Herr von Treitschke is not ashamed of himself. Quite recently an idiotic opinion in historicis, an observation of Vischer the Swabian aesthete, since happily deceased, made the round of the German newspapers as a “truth” to which every German must assent.

Let me prove that no other Western philosopher was “one of us.” Either do a contribution to the West’s Darkest Hour (see donate button at the sidebar) or, if you live in the US, go to your second-hand bookstore and purchase Matthew Stewart’s The Truth About Everything: An Irreverent History of Philosophy. In second-hand bookstores a copy of this 1997 book must be just a couple of bucks and you can send it to me by regular mail. (From the country where I am living, Amazon Books’ shipping prices sometimes cost even more than a brand new copy!)

You won’t be disappointed by my chosen excerpts of Stewart’s hilarious book in a new series of posts that I might call “Debunking philosophy” or something like that. Presently I cannot quote it for this blog because I only own a Spanish translation of An Irreverent History of Philosophy, not the original in English.

Thank you for your support.

Categories
Arthur Schopenhauer Buddhism Friedrich Nietzsche Hegel Hinduism John Stuart Mill New Testament Philosophy Sigmund Freud Voltaire

On Buddha & Evola

Or:

“The existence of Buddhism
should scare the White Nationalists
who can’t think of anything but Jews”

by Cesar Tort


In a previous post I talked about my golden rule: never read those authors or philosophers who write in obscure prose.
I confess that, in the past, when I was researching the pseudoscience called psychiatry, I had to read a book of one of those authors who deliberately and unnecessarily wrote in extremely opaque prose. I refer to Michel Foucault’s analysis of how the “mental health” movement was launched after an edict of Louis XIV that created, under the umbrella name of “General Hospital,” a prison in Paris for people who had not broken any law. While I found historical data in Foucault’s Madness and Civilization germane to my investigation, I also found much tasteless sludge in his text from a strictly literary, didactic viewpoint.

I mention this only to show that I can decipher opaque prose if I wish. But only in an exceptional case, where no other historical works on the same subject were available, I dared to break my rule.

turgid book

Such was not the case when I tried to read Julius Evola’s Metaphysics of Sex. After a few pages I realized that it was written deliberately in opaque prose and, since I was not researching the subject to write a book (as was the case of my study of psychiatry), my copy of Evola’s book ended in the trash can.

This illustrates my extreme passion for crystal-clear and distinct language, and my loathsome even for the great minds of Western thought that refuse to write in readable prose. In fact, what I liked the most in Leszek Kolakowski’s monumental, three-volume deconstruction of Marxism was the passage where he said that every metaphysical insight of Hegel had already been written before him, and in much clearer language. Kolakowski’s honest sentence contrasted sharply with Hans Küng’s dishonest appraisal of Hegel in a heavy treatise of my library that, to date, has escaped the trash can, The Incarnation of God: An Introduction to Hegel’s Theological Thought as Prolegomena to a Future Christology where Küng dishonestly claims that Hegel wrote his philosophy in pristine prose!

One of my favorite books is Matthew Stewart’s The Truth About Everything: An Irreverent History of Philosophy. Stewart goes as far as trying to debunk almost the entire field of philosophy, partly for the specious use of obscure prose in many of the works of the greatest thinkers. Just for the record, of the Western philosophical canon I only like Augustine’s Confessions and Nietzsche’s Ecce homo in spite of the fact that both autobiographers became mad; Voltaire’s Candide, Schopenhauer’s Essays and Aphorisms and John Stuart Mill’s On Liberty, which I still like because free speech has now been curtailed in Mill’s native country. All of these works were written in clear prose. The Truth About Everything corroborated what I already knew but was afraid to say aloud. I would like to explain this book’s thesis not by quoting Stewart but by pointing out to something that I have figured out by myself.

The accepted view about Kant’s metaphysics is that it’s too complex and profound for the layman to understand. Those who study the snares of language, on the other hand, point out that Confucius detected the trick of using obscure language to pose as a profound metaphysician. Unlike the Chinese, the West hasn’t learned to detect this trick, and even today white nationalist sites such as Counter-Currents have presented obfuscating authors as deep thinkers (Alex Dugin, only the most recent case). A single example will suffice: If the interpretation of the universities is right, that is to say, if philosophers are so profound that only a few can grasp their ideas, how do you explain that Kant, the philosopher who introduced such obscurantism into the modern West, has been interpreted in dramatically different ways by such giants as Schopenhauer and Heidegger?

The answer is obvious. The goal of gratuitously obscuring language is that, by the heaviest and densest imaginable screens of smoke thus lifted, the philosopher’s System becomes impregnable to criticism. For instance, after honest psychologists found fatal flaws in Sigmund Freud’s edifice, the orthodox Freudian Jacques Lacan reacted by translating all of Freud’s claims, written in clear German prose, to an opaque French that only the initiate could understand. But of course: we don’t need to spend precious time trying to decipher the Ecrits of the charlatan Lacan to refute Freud. Just go directly to Freud’s original texts!

Today Counter-Currents published an erudite Evola essay on Buddhism, where Evola tries to spare the founder of Buddhism from any criticism from the Right by claiming that his philosophy was not effeminate like today’s liberals, but virile. But Evola represents exactly what is wrong with complex philosophizing that moved me to put one of his books into the trash can. In his essay published at C-C he even claims that Zen stands for a return to the original Buddhism, something that is patently untrue (see below). If you ask exactly what is Evola leaving out I would say that Buddhism contained the seeds of race treason for the Aryans in India. In a recent comment at this blog, Stubbs said:

Our race has had some really bad ideas over the ages: Alexander the Great telling all his soldiers to miscegenate, the Roman Empire making “citizens” out of aliens, the Aryan prince who founded Buddhism abolishing the caste system, White rulers in Egypt and Persia letting their countries go dark, not to mention the simple infighting and disorganization that would make our race easy prey for Jews or Muslims [and Mongols I would add]. Frankly, the existence of Buddhism should scare the White Nationalists who can’t think of anything but Jews.

Stubbs is right, and to prove it I have no choice but to debunk one of the most venerated religious icons of the West after the 1960s started to replace Christianity with Oriental cults and New Age nonsense.

In my twenties I read The Three Pillars of Zen and was greatly impressed by the enlightenment experience (“satori”) of a Japanese executive in that book of Philip Kapleau. Since there were no Zen schools in the city where I lived it’s no coincidence that the same month that I became interested in Zen I fell, instead, in the Eschatology cult. Infinite soul odysseys I had to cross through before I stopped seeking my salvation in mysticism, cults or the paranormal. In the remainder of this entry I’ll dwell with some of my conclusions about Buddhism after my long, dark night of the soul was finally over.

Pali is an ancient dialect of India, the equivalent for Buddhists of Latin for Roman Catholics. A text called Tripiṭaka, written in Pali, is the oldest about the life of Buddha.

“Tripiṭaka” means three baskets or divisions called the Pali Canon: Digha Nikaya (Dialogues of the Buddha), Majjhima Nikaya (Sayings of average length) and Samyutta Nikaya (Similar sayings). This “Bible” of Buddhism is formidable: a mountain of literature that secular laymen cannot address as easily as the Torah, the New Testament or the Koran. Fortunately, Wisdom Publications sells a splendid English edition with extensive introductions, summaries of the sutras attributed to Buddha, and hundreds of notes and appendices in three volumes which together consist of more than 4,000 pages. Unlike the extensive Talmud the Pali Canon is, as to abstract ideas, very dense. In addition to abstract teachings it contains interpretations and the Order’s rule attributed to Buddha. The recent translation to English is an invaluable collection for those interested in Buddhism who don’t know Pali. However, since I follow my golden rule the dense psycho-metaphysics in The Long Discourses of The Buddha: a translation of the Digha Nikaya by Maurice Walshe (1995), The Middle Length Discourses of The Buddha: a translation of the Majjhima Nikaya by Bhikkhu Nanamoli (1995), and The Connected Discourses of The Buddha: a translation of the Samyutta Nikaya by Bhikkhu Bodhi (2002) might find a place in my personal library, but I’ll never read them from cover to cover. Never.

Evola did not read them either, since this translation is so recent. But whether we like it or not we have to start from the Pali Canon, aided by modern commentators, to speculate about who might have been the historical Buddha, if he was a historical figure at all. For the moment I must rely on other scholars for what I venture to say below.


The Buddha of dogma

Buddha was born between the fifth and sixth centuries B.C. in a border of what is now Nepal and India (incidentally, a border crossed by one of my brothers in one of his searches for the “spiritual”). This seems to be true story. But legend says that Buddha was conceived when his virginal mother dreamed with a white elephant, which of course brings to mind the gospel’s nativity legends.

Birthplacebuddha

(Birthplace of Siddhatta in Lumbini)

Very few know that the narrative of the gospels of Matthew and Luke about the virginal conception of Jesus is not original. The Tripiṭaka also mentions a sage and a king worshiping the baby Buddha, which appears centuries after in the gospel narrative of the Magi. Moreover, the texts say that when Buddha was about thirty he suffered temptations by a devil (like Jesus in the desert at the same age) that wanted to prevent his enlightenment. And like the famous Sermon on the Mount of Jesus, Buddha is credited with the famous Sermon of Fire in which he speaks of the passions and human deceit (“Everything is on fire …”).

Like Jesus, Buddha is regarded by tradition as a man of extraordinary compassion for the downcast, and believers also attribute to him diverse miracles, like the Enlightened One having walked on the sea and calmed storms; stopped a plague in a village; more spectacular levitations than the ones attributed to Catholic saints, and even bilocations of his body. Like the Christian gospel, when Buddha died tradition says that the earth trembled and that the light of heaven was darkened. New Testament scholar Randel Helms suspects that the narrative of Jesus walking on the sea was modeled on Buddhist legends.

The Pali Canon claims that at thirty-five Buddha attained enlightenment; that the man reached the level of awakening from a world of illusion and thus became a “buddha” (legend speaks of previous Buddhas, like the Buddha Amida or the Buddha Kakusandha, but according to scholarship they are not historical figures). It is fascinating to compare the oldest and concise narrative of Buddha’s enlightenment with the legends about the same event, developed in much more recent types of Buddhism, like the Japanese Zen. But before doing it let’s think of the development of the Easter story in the New Testament.

The earliest New Testament writing, the epistles of Paul, do not talk of empty tombs, appearances of the risen Jesus, or the Ascension: they are only tortuous proclamations of faith without colorful resurrection narratives.

The Gospel of Mark, the earliest of the canonical gospels, speaks for the first time of the empty tomb but no Ascension or postmortem appearances of the risen Jesus to his disciples.

Matthew and Luke do talk about the apparitions, but Matthew omits Jesus’ Ascension into heaven.

Luke’s Acts mention the ascension but the theological type of Christology like “In the beginning was the Word…” was not yet developed.

Only in the last of the gospels to be written, the gospel of John, appears a developed Christology interwoven with other narratives about Jesus.

For the critical reader it is obvious that the writers of the New Testament added layer after layer of inspiring legends to a more primordial tale. And if the resurrection is the top event in Christianity, the Buddha’s enlightenment after his last meditation under the Bo tree is the maximum event for Buddhism. The story that conquered my imagination about the Buddha when I just left behind my teens was precisely the experience of the satori, or enlightenment, when he saw the planet Venus in the morning after his final session under the tree. “Wonder of wonders!” the Buddha said aloud. “Intrinsically all living beings are buddhas, endowed with wisdom and virtue, but because men’s minds have become inverted through delusive thinking they fail to perceive this.”

The mistake I made at twenty was taking for real the late and extremely elaborated narratives about the Buddha’s enlightenment: the story told by Yasutani-roshi in The Three Pillars of Zen. At that time I could not think as modern historians do: study the oldest texts if you want to speculate about what might have happened in history. However, had I read the new, most scholarly edition of the Tripiṭaka instead of The Three Pillars of Zen, no numinous spirit would have awakened in my mind, a spirit sparked by my reading the words of the roshi.

Once “enlightened,” the official story goes, Buddha’s mission was to teach the dharma to mankind and he delivered his first sermon. Rewording some later texts, the starting point of his teaching seems to be something like this: “Here is the sacred truth of suffering. Birth is suffering, aging is suffering… Here is the truth about the origin of suffering: desire.” And the way to suppress human suffering involves an austere life, a happy golden mean between the ruthless asceticism that the saint practiced and the worldly life. The eightfold path or “path to liberation” leads to nirvana.


The Siddhatta of history?

This eightfold path suggests that Buddha taught a kind of what Scientologists call “OT levels.” We could see the arhats or “perfected ones” as the “clears” or “liberated” in Ronald Hubbard’s psycho-babble cult. The Tripiṭaka also says that the five ascetics who had departed him then recognized the Buddha, underwent their “path to liberation” and reached the level of arhats. Buddha would be the leader of a sect with half hundred arhats or perfected men.

My comparison to modern, destructive cults may sound pretty irreverent, but that’s precisely what the irreverent history of Western philosophy by Matthew Stewart taught me. If we can mock the Wisdom of the West, why aren’t we allowed to mock the Wisdom of the East too?

White nationalist circles are fond of saying that Buddha was ethnically Aryan. But “The Buddha” is a title similar to “The Christ” of Christians to designate the man Jesus, or “The Prophet” of Muslims to refer to Mohammed. Unlike Jesus or Mohammed, the stories about Buddha were written several centuries after his death. If we want to speculate from such late legends, we must start with the name itself. As I never call “Christ” the human Jesus because I’m not Christian, from this line on I won’t call “Buddha” the human Siddhatta because I’m not Buddhist.

Sidhartha Gautama is Sanskrit for Siddhattha Gotama in Pali, the language that perhaps the founder of the religion spoke. If he existed he would have been called “Siddhatta” (Gotama was the name of his father). A person who has reached the “buddha” level simply means that he is an “enlightened one,” as the word Christ means “anointed one” in Greek (i.e., the messiah).

Like the charlatan Hubbard, who obscured his message with a mountain of unnecessary neologisms for terms already known in previous esoteric movements, Siddhatta was not original. Alara Kalama, his first teacher, had told Siddhatta that he, Siddhatta’s master, had reached “the sphere of nothing,” and his second teacher taught him to achieve “the sphere without perception and without no perception.” Whatever they told him in real life, these cryptic thoughts would inspire Siddhatta about his idea of the nirvana. Like Hubbard, all he did was to change the names and claim that “nirvana” was a plane superior to our own plane of existence.

After dropping his first teachers, and like the sanctimonious Christians of later centuries, it seems that Siddhatta practiced severe asceticism, increasingly eating less rice. Later artistic representations depict the anorexic Siddhatta with the skin of his stomach appearing almost next to his spine. The ancient text Majjhima Nikaya puts in Siddhatta’s mouth these words: “My buttocks seem wild ox hoof.” Siddhatta felt the danger of dying and accepted milk and rice offered by a peasant girl. He recovered gradually and his first disciples abandoned him after he quitted ascetics. Legend tells us that after surpassing the temptations of the devil, in his meditation sessions Siddhatta retrieved the memories of his past existences. (The founder of another religion, Hubbard, also claimed having remembered his past lives.)

Whether these stories were historical or not, may I remind my readers the most elementary rules of logic. Clearly, if reincarnation does not exist, both Hinduism and Buddhism are based on deception. Similarly, if Yahweh didn’t speak to Moses at Sinai, Judaism is based on a lie. If Jesus was not resurrected, Christianity is based on a lie. And if the angel did not speak to Muhammad, Islam is based on a lie. The only difference with the doctrine of reincarnation is that it was not original of Siddhatta: it preceded him within the metaphysical tradition of his homeland. But the postmodern psyche is shaped so that the mere fact that such an ancient doctrine enjoys wide acceptance makes it respectable.

Siddhatta visited the house of his father. Legend tells us that Yasodhara, the wife Siddhatta had abandoned, fell under his feet. Siddhatta’s father asked his son to establish the rule that no child could be ordered monk of the new religion, unless he obtained permission of his father. Siddhatta nodded. If the anecdote is historical it proves that the now “enlightened” man allowed himself to be treated like a child, again.

Sarnath

(Dhâmek Stûpa in Sârnâth, India, site of the first teaching of Siddhatta)

In Jetavana Siddhatta founded a famous monastery which became his headquarters and where he gave his sermons. The movement grew and soon many monasteries were founded in the major towns of the valley of Ganges. The Hindus believed that Siddhatta had a special trick for galvanic attraction. As Mother Teresa would later do also in India, Siddhatta visited the patients: a PR trick we see even in the careers of politicians during election campaigns.

Siddhatta died of old age, and it is instructive to know that before dying he became seriously ill. Similar to what the leader of the Church of Scientology, David Miscavige, said after his guru died in 1986—that Hubbard voluntarily got rid of his body—, Siddhatta’s followers believe that he passed away voluntarily. He was cremated; his relics divided to the satisfaction of the various groups.

The central Buddhist doctrine, that suffering is caused by attachment to life, is a typical oriental escape from Life. After the magnificent sculptures in classical times of young Aryan bodies, the Eastern spirit of apathy and resignation (see my recent quote of Will Durant at Occidental Dissent) was reflected in Greek art through sculptures of sick old men. What a difference with the self-image of the Hellenes when Athens was at its height!

The other Siddhatta doctrine, that overcoming worldly attachment overcomes suffering, is the perfect corollary of such a pessimistic worldview. It is surprising that the religions that arose on dry soil, like Judaism and Christianity, have fantasized about a utopian future while moist religions, such as Buddhism and other Indian cults, preach the annihilation of the desire: one of the oldest definitions of nirvana. The central belief of Buddhism is that, if we get rid of attachment, we free ourselves from suffering. From this standpoint you will understand why devout Buddhists meditate hour after hour. The object is, to put it in contemporary terms, to turn the ego faculty off, an ego from which all suffering is derived.

Anyone who believes that we must cast out our desires would do well to shoot himself: the most direct way to destroy the ego, and forever. Siddhatta’s followers would object because of their sacred belief in the reincarnation chain, which condemns the suicidal individual to another, and probably worse, life. I remember how I was disappointed by the author of The Three Pillars of Zen while reading another of his books in a bookstore. The now “roshi-Kapleau” condemned both suicide and euthanasia. But the concept of nirvana is much like what we may experience after death: going nowhere, as we were before birth.

The painful way that the historical Siddhatta died contrasts with the serene depictions in Buddhist art. This is why in this post I did not reproduce any artistic iconography of India’s saint. They are all flawed and depict the Buddha of dogma, not the Siddhatta of history. More fundamental is the fact that the doctrine of reincarnation, as understood by Hinduists, Buddhists, Scientologists and many New Agers, is cowardly and un-Aryan.

Pace Evola I see no Übermensch in Siddhatta or in early Buddhism.

Categories
2nd World War Axiology Energy / peak oil Eschatology Final solution Friedrich Nietzsche Heinrich Himmler Holocaust Holodomor Red terror

Fuck the Holocaust!

I am moving this entry here only because the caricature at the top of the entry combines better with the blue background of the Addenda.

Categories
Emperor Julian Friedrich Nietzsche Indo-European heritage Islam Kali Yuga

Derrida, the Jews and the battle for Europe

by Manu Rodríguez

(translated from Spanish)



jew-derrida
Derrida is, without doubt, the greatest Jewish thinker of late. I speak of what constitutes the whole Jewish “intelligentsia” of the past century. The “letters,” the “humanities”: Kafka, Freud, Lukacs, Benjamin, Arendt, Adorno, Marcuse, Levinas (the list is not exhaustive, of course). Derrida learned from all of them the best way of dealing with the Gentiles—learned from the mistakes of the Frankfurt School, for example. You had to use a different tone.

In view of the results of the present state of things, we can say with confidence that much of the scholarly work of the contemporary Jewish “intelligentsia” has been, and is, the destruction (“deconstruction,” if you prefer) of our culture. From all angles. They have introduced displeasure, mistrust, suspicion, discomfort throughout our culture in our painting, our music, our literature, our philosophy, our law, our traditions, all of our history since Marx… They poison the sources of our knowledge as harpies defile, desecrate, bumble, dirty, pollute our spiritual food.

It’s an old war that we do not want to register in our minds. A cold war. For more than two thousand years the Jews have declared war on the goyim, the gentile Europeans. Their first major victory was the Christianization of Europe, which was also our first step of Judaization (that massive process of forced and violent acculturation and enculturation of European populations 1700 years ago, which is extended, albeit more weakly, to this day). In the last two hundred years it seemed outclassed, left behind. But with Marx a new phase in this long war opened, which reached Derrida. Derrida is one of the last heirs of that pathway, a pathway opened by Marx: the destruction of the old institutions—the family, the nation, the religion, the symbolic parameters of a people, the frame, the skeleton: all of what had us standing.

The current preaching is the same of the past. The same destruction of our institutions and concepts. The same criticism of the nation, the homeland, the feeling of belonging to a land and a people, to our home, to our being ancestral and indigenous. And the same rising to the stars and the “selling” of all things Jewish. Jewish writing, Jewish culture… Theirs—Jewish identity—is untouchable. The Jew simply cannot be “deconstructed,” dismantled, censured, denied. The Jew is always affectionately embraced, and seductively presented as desirable, even as tempting. They tempt us, seduce us, divert us from our path. With one hand he destroys our identity and with the other he offers his. Illusionists, magicians, masters of distraction that swindle what is ours and attach to us what is foreign.

All this I say is shown to us in the media. It is the triumph of the rhetoric of advertising, of propaganda (Bernays). These are the times. Certain words, certain brands, certain slogans. Short messages, provocative, shocking, striking, bold, simple, catchy, leave a “footprint.” And also the gift, justice, forgiveness, friendship, hospitality. It is a “business” with “cause.”

CofC-2A new Messianism comes now from the hand of Benjamin, Levinas, and Derrida (among many others, they are legion—and the converts) beyond the tart procedure of the Frankfurt School (those Maccabees). More subtle now, more Pauline, more cryptic, more cunning, more Marrano.

Internationalism is preached to us; the lack of patriotism. It is a universal, political, transnational, cosmopolitan creed; it is a perspective of the stateless, the rootless. It promotes this narrative, this point of view, this being.

The humpback wants to make humpbacks of all of us. The stateless wants us all stateless. The wandering, the nomads. Not only landless, without culture as well. A thing is not without the other. One thing leads to another. We cannot be deprived of land without first being deprived of culture, of “sky”, of word, of light. First he rails against the super-symbolic structures, against that being symbolic in ours, against the traditions about ourselves, against the basis and foundations of our symbolic being, against our ancient identity, against our collective ancestral memory— we are nothing, indeed.

The Industrial Revolution will end the old ways Marx said; with the Ancient Regime, with the old institutions (European, Western). Why is that hope, that desire, and why the rush? The “world” in which we lived was declared old, sick, mad, guilty, bad, worthy of perishing. We are condemned to death.

We are declared sick (critical, destructive discourse) and they heal us (universalism, cosmopolitanism) alike. They bring both the disease and the remedy (in the manner of the old Jewish Messianism with its “original sin” and its restoring baptism).

But these “cures” or “remedies” are equally destructive. We are pushed toward the abyss (death and oblivion), ​​we are blemished, denied, we are not left any outlet other than the “Other.”

We are being eliminated while we are offered the “diversity,” the Other, hospitality, cosmopolitanism, internationalism, the most suicidal altruism—indeed, the cure they say. We choose the Other, we place his interest before our own interests—the denial of oneself in short (“deny thyself”). And this evil, evil idea we like to accept as the highest and sublime “ideal.” Oh Miserable! It is the poisoned apple. The spreading among us of such universal principles seeks our destruction; that we voluntarily ignore ourselves, that we leave behind ours. Besides, our morality is reprehensible, punishable, it is the “bad” to remove.

Thus part of the cure is to destroy the attachment to the land, to the blood, to what is ours, all that should be up-rooted from the European goyim. Drive them away from their land, their people, away from our ends, away from ourselves. That was, and is, the way of salvation that we preach, and continues to be the cure. Now as then.

Karl Marx: News of the Coming Revolt
These are renewed attacks, and brutal, of the last two hundred years. From Marx to Derrida. New weapons, new missiles, new “reasoning,” new sophistry. Against everything that can strengthen and affirm. This is the whole strategy, and this is the role of the European Jewish “intelligentsia” to the Gentiles, that is what they have to do. They know that only by deconstructing us will they entirely succeed someday. And they spend their energy and greed toward that end. They dream but with the humiliation of the white European peoples. They want to see us defeated, vanquished, isolated, needy, few, solos. Oh, old Shylock!

They were not the first in this “path of destruction,” they were preceded by the enlightened after the Renaissance. The writings of the Enlightenment of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries provided political, legal, economic, philosophical arguments of “progress.” But it is not the same fight to combat ideologically the Ancient Regime than trying to destroy the entire European culture.

Nietzsche also, unfortunately, provided plenty of material. And Heidegger. However, the same criticism that a European makes of his culture sounds different when performed by a Jew. Keep in mind who is the subject of an enunciation: who speaks here, who says that. While in a Jew’s mouth these reviews sound like the speech of an enemy, in a European mouth those words sound like those of a father or a mother, or a son, or a brother. Rebukes, corrects, encourages… The European seeks the good of his health; wants to make it better, stronger, more confident; wants to establish it on new foundations and purest symbolism. Nietzsche’s intention is that the European be exceeded, that he leaves behind all the ideological and spiritual, Platonic and Judeo-messianic period. A symbolic change, a change of “heaven,” a complete regeneration, a new dawn, a return perhaps. Marx (Jewish strategy) seeks the destruction of our worlds; Nietzsche seeks correction, transformation, renewal.

In any case, what is allowed to Nietzsche (one of us), is not to any stranger, whether Jewish, Christian, Muslim, or Chinese. Let them stick to their “stuff.”

Why do we allow these strangers interfere in our affairs? Our family affairs. They are ancient, archaic, reach our ancestors, our true first Parents, those Indo-Europeans: Hittite, Vedic Aryans, Greeks, Romans, Germans, Celts, Slavs, Balts… The relations between different peoples in Europe, our holy land, are sometimes difficult—between Germans and Celts for example (in Ireland and the British Isles), or between southern Roman and Germanics, Slavic and Germanics or between them and the Balts. Our millennial affairs. No outsider is invited to this reunion, it is only for our ancestral peoples. No outsider has here any word, any ear, voice or vote.

These authors I am referring to are Jewish before being French, German, Spanish, or Russian, and only their “nation” moves them—not Europe or its people or their nations. Like Christians or Muslims, they are foreigners in any country or region. They can only speak from the position of the stateless. They have no nation but the Jewish community, or Muslim (the umma). These are their unique perspectives. They have nothing, then, to say. They cannot speak but from outside, from their own language / experience / perspective. Moreover, we can always say, “Take care of your business”, of your “nation and leave us in peace.” “Put your whole exegesis on your ‘Peters’ and ‘Pauls,’ and leave alone Homer, Aristotle and Plato.” This is what Julian told the “Galileans.” Something similar we can tell these new apostles of our newly restored paganism: “Devote yourselves to censor and destroy your own traditions and customs, and leave alone our philosophers and our entire culture.”

Jewish intellectuals among us don’t introduce themselves as Jews but as Westerners and seek to pass as ordinary citizens in appearance, indistinguishable from others (it is important, for their strategy, that we see them as French, German, or American, not as Jews). Mimicry. No Judaic displays or public fanfare. Rather: atheists, agnostics, heterodox, or simply “progressive” or “leftists” (terms that define much of the West). Their work is aimed at Westerners in general. In any case, these intellectuals, I say, never stop being Jews.

In their eternal double game—like aliens who are in any land (except in Israel); their dual nationality, double talk, dual mentality, dual language, double intention; their diabolism, forked tongue, their poison, they can not help it. Before being French, Russians, Germans or Americans, they’re Jews. The Jewish perspective never leaves them. The country or the Jewish nation is the transnational Jewish community, as is the case with Muslims and their umma, and would also happen to Christians and their community (the “people” of the god of the Jews) if they were consistent with their “faith.”

We must return to speak of Jewish philosophy, or Jewish thought, make them out of the current European thinkers (Kant, Hegel, Nietzsche, Heidegger) as we do with medieval philosophy, where we distinguish Jewish thought, European (mostly Christian) and Muslim. There is a contemporary “literature” or “writing” in the West we might call Jewish or Hebrew—for its content, references, fundamental concepts, for their “masters.” Topics, quotes, and Jewish authors (ancient, medieval, modern, and contemporary) are common in these scriptures.

The current Jewish thinkers navigate with the masthead of the most notable European thinkers of the past two hundred years (Kant, Hegel, Nietzsche, and Heidegger mainly) all the while guided by Jewish thinkers—Marx, Freud, Levinas, Adorno… These are the thinkers who form their conscience, they say. And the consciousness of much of today’s Europeans, unfortunately for us.

Wrapped in gentle nibbles, with a bit of Kant, Hegel, Nietzsche and Heidegger they make us swallow handfuls of Jewish issues, we are Judaized—again. Something “sweet” on the tip of the spoon to deceive, something different, something other than what they would have us swallow, something familiar for us not to distrust. As with children. Little by little, until they get used. After that they may withdraw the little sweet, other than Jewish. The art of Derrida. The floured paw hovering below the door. Jewish Scripture for Europeans or western Gentiles, for the European “cousins.” Like the old Judeo-Messianism.

The Jew always makes an appearance with an air of triumph to gentile “confusion”—as deus ex machina, as Socrates in the (rigged) Platonic dialogues. Go to the Derrida webpage, see and check. Texts on Marx, Freud, Benjamin and Levinas; Jewish characters and Jewish allusions, ancient and modern everywhere (article, interview, conference). Jewish writing—Jewish authors, Jewish issues, Jewish concerns, Jewish disquisitions, Jewish Byzantinism, Kabala, Talmud, Messianism. Self-centeredness in short. Megalomania: all about the Jews and their small world.

F-school

Do not forget they hold conferences and meetings of philosophy, of thought, strictly Jewish. Meetings in which a non-Jew, I presume, cannot participate except as a guest. Many of the topics and authors are, however, worldwide (Marxism, phenomenology, psychoanalysis, the Frankfurt School, Benjamin, Derrida…). Authors and philosophical topoi governing, today, much of European and western thought. They are the main current of thought, we might say. They have taken over. The list of Jewish authors whose narrative is relevant to our contemporary culture is excessive.

They do not use exclusively Jewish sources. As said, they are combined with certain doses of the aforementioned European authors. But we notice that these uses are rather to flag, to mark, to marginalize, to set them aside, to distinguish they from them. They fight ultimately against these texts (these authors): they strike them, delete them, make them void—seek their annulment, beat them, disconnect from them we might say, deprive of their strength, power, utility, functionality and present value; spoil them, block the outputs, cut the roads…

I think of the work done with Nietzsche—the pruning. The Nietzsche of Blanchot, Klossowski, Foucault, Deleuze, Lyotardt, Derrida, Vattimo. The post-modern. Weak thought. Weakened off thought, exhausted, dying, end. Nihilism in his misery. This scenario is not noticed in the Jewish front: it has another perspective. They have made that European thinkers rush, throw themselves into the abyss. They contemplate self-extinction. Objective nearly fulfilled.

It is the white Europe, of course, the final destination of these maneuvers and attacks; it is this Europe what he wants weakened, canceled, extinguished… deleted, gone, disappeared (as Sumer and Egypt disappeared). To turn Europe into something spooky, a dim memory.

Say there is a war between European thought and Jewish thought: Darwin and Nietzsche on the one hand, and Marx and Freud on the other (for simplicity). We have sociologies and anthropologies opposing each other. Opposing worlds. It’s a war of words, cultural, symbolic, even of the media. It is a struggle for dominance. Consider if Derrida’s writing is not raised as a fight against certain traditions and European institutions to influence the future of these institutions and traditions. The goal is to take over, to dominate, to possess. Those are “positions” in a fight. It is a war.

Today it is the entire European thought (from the Greek, from Homer) the demonized, which is under suspicion, the defeated, we could say. It’s all ancient European culture which is in question and is in danger of disappearing.

The future of European thinking (and being) is settled these days, although many of the “professionals” are not aware of it, do not realize they are already involved in this fight either one side or the other. You have to ask, what is the dominant thought? Which authors dominate or lead? It is an ideological struggle, a struggle in the heavens. Is the battle for Europe.

The objective is to take the head atop the Citadel (the Acropolis), the government centers, to drive, to lead. Like some retroviruses penetrating the nucleus of cells manage to enter the DNA and from it, replicate using mobile devices. The “replication” of the narrative from the core. Replicants. Cybernetics and the machinery or the social body.

The Jews try to dominate the whole field of thought, to definitely Judaize European philosophical thought, economics, politics, ethics, psychologies, anthropologies. They have spread in all fields of knowledge and culture. We go around figures and pathways of Jewish reflection, created by Jews: this is the intention.

For the achievement of this purpose, it is essential that Europeans and Westerners do not suspect for a moment that they are reading Jewish press, Jewish literature and Jewish thought, or watching Jewish movies (or myths propagated by Jews as the new Zion in Matrix). There are a number of clearly Jewish “products” that pass for art and culture for the mass, purportedly Western. We consume kosher culture prepared especially for Gentiles without knowing it.

judeocristianismo

Like when the old Judeo-Messianic Judaism—an ad hoc Judaism for European gentiles (no circumcision, no food requirements, and everything else—the god, the Jewish god, the Jewish holy book, the Jewish holy land…).

It is the propaganda of literature and art what we always have with Jews. They propagate themselves. They take care of themselves. They sell themselves; they are offered, promoted, one to each other. Is their art, the Phoenician art, Semitic art.

What they have always tried is how to survive, and always master, the strange land and even influence the life and work of the goyim. Among Semites it is always the search, anywhere, the transformation of the culture of the host to make it more favorable to their own interests.

Presently they win the battle in the minds and hearts of Europeans and Westerners. Incomprehensibly, their self-destructive and harmful slogans are in the air; their deadly conceptual beads. There are many Conversos or supporters that do not know they are, or are not taken by such (Marxists, Freudians, Derridans, universalists internationalists, multiculturalists…), those who leave their gold and flaunt the blackest chump.

Oh, simple, naive, gullible, trusting Europeans! Young, new, latest, inexperienced, adolescent race! When will you attain some maturity?

The recent Jewish cultural or intellectual contribution? It’s a room, four walls and a built-in insidious roof, slowly and laboriously from Marx to Derrida, the “intellectual” legacy or Jewish gift for future generations of poisoned Europe: a receptacle, a cell, a hideout. The new canonical texts and authors, the new “Parents” of the new European community or ecclesia—architects of this new Zion, the new Matrix. Is this our fate, the fate of our heirs? Once again enclosed within four walls? To live in the shade, under the roof of this minimum precinct—denying us space and horizon and preventing us from seeing our skies? Will this blackened and dirty roof be our single “heaven”? Nausea. Repugnance. The “universe,” the “world” of Marx, Kafka, Freud, Lukacs, Trotsky, Benjamin, Arendt, Adorno, Levinas, Derrida… The shadowy Jewish world; its unbreathable atmosphere, impure.

Just as the Judeo-Messianic “new testament,” the whole Jewish world came over us (from which we have not left), and with the discourse of Marx, Freud, Levinas, Benjamin, and Derrida we are returned back to that world. The one leads to the other. We are stopped, paralyzed, retained in their maze for centuries. We did not leave their tight and tedious world.

Jewish “intelligentsia” attempts to shape and direct our lives for millennia. The brand new testament; the new apostles of the Gentiles. A new Jewish Messianic millennium, a new supreme winter. This is the threat.

The “Holocaust” is now their Golgotha, their sign, their cross, their pale banner.

The sky is brick-worked, certainly. Our skies are paved with brick through the Jewish skies and Judeo-Messianic Jews. Now we have a new brickwork, and both the old and new are preserved. A double brickwork and double key. In both cases the keys are held by Jews.

These “heavens” are the ways of salvation made by European Jews to the Gentiles. Both destroy us, destroy our being. Both the old Judeo-Messianism as the new—the brand new testament.

Clairvoyance and courage I wish to my own to get out of this mess, to de-brickworking these skies outside, to shoot down these walls, to restore the light of our skies, our breathing of pure air. To win in the end.

We must be stronger than the disease, more vigorous than the evil that invades us. It is time to frustrate the plans of these charlatans, these tricksters, these cheaters, these imposters and usurpers.

Until next time,

Manu

Categories
Alexandria Ancient Greece Ancient Rome Celts Cicero Franks Friedrich Nietzsche Goths Individualism Indo-European heritage Islam Plato Universalism

The Aryan problem

Dear César:

Not all Spaniards think like that. The causes of our decline in the past after the Christianization, and in the present, are due to ourselves. I refer to excerpts published in one of my posts last year:

__________________

 
periander_vat2Already in pre-Socratic times we can see this disregard for a fundamental part of our culture: in the whimsical and superfluous theogonies and cosmogonies of Epicharmus and Pherecydes, which rivaled the traditions collected and transmitted by Homer and Hesiod and confused the people through pseudo-Orphic and Pythagorean preaching about individual souls and religious proposals of “personal” salvation: individualists and universalists. They divided the people and ended up influencing Plato and some philosophers (Xenophanes). Finally, in post-Socratic times, coinciding with the Alexandrian period—culturally chaotic, cosmopolitan—, philosophical ethics circulated from Cynics, Stoics and Epicureans, already fully individualistic and universalist (transnational, stateless doctrines for “all men”) and consistent with the cultural decay of the time. I think that this was a big mistake; this contempt by the Hellenic “intelligentsia” as Nietzsche said. The Greek people lost their right to their autochthonous gods. This “intelligentsia” should have taken care of the native and ancestral legacy.

This attitude just ended up weakening the strength and security that the people had in their own cultural traditions. These traditions, these “worlds” were part of the ancestral collective memory of our people that was devastated, made it like a desert, annihilated by our own philosophers and thinkers. They were in some way responsible for this great loss, for that debacle, for that alienation which resulted in the loss of our cultures when Christianization took over. They neglected their duty, not only the education of the people, but the care and defense of our traditions (our worlds) before the Other. Our people lost their cultural property, or watched it sullied, undervalued, or ridiculed by their own kind.

The thing did not improve in Roman times when the schools of Stoics and Epicureans dominated everywhere in the Empire, and the words of Cato or Cicero could not avoid the dissolution, this disintegration of the cultural symbolic (colectivas) of Greeks and Romans.

The entry of Jewish, Chaldean, Egyptian and Persian sects found a disoriented people; neglected, abandoned, without guidance and their traditions scorned by the “enlightened” classes. They preyed upon the preachers of these sects. It was not only Plato or Christianity. Centuries of neglect and scorn put our people in the hands of these preachers of foreign divinities.

We can do the same reasoning with the traditions of Germans, Celts, Slavs and others. They seemed to be infected by the general attitude that Greeks and Romans had regarding their own cultures, not valued at all. The values, it seems, were elsewhere: in the economic and the military power, or in religions of “personal” salvation coming from the outside, which denoted disintegration and a previous decomposition of these peoples.

Nothing forced the Goths, Lombards, Burgundians and Franks to be Christianized but their greed for power and willingness to take over the remains of the Empire without reflection or discussion of its “ideological” bases, fully Christianized by the 5th century (the century of the Germanic expansions). This was not the case of forced Christianization, centuries later, of the Saxons and Frisians (by Charlemagne), or the politics from the top (the monarchs) as done by the Norwegians (Olaf “The Holy”) and the Slavs (Vladimir, also “The Holy”). The Germans could have been the liberators of Europe, but they put their arms in the service of a foreign faith and an ecclesia (priestly community). This attitude says very clearly how they were indifferent to their own traditions.

It was a betrayal. Our history would have been different if they had remained faithful to the cultural legacy of their ancestors.

Breaking the sacred bonds wrought what it wrought. And from the ominous Christianization of our people we have been suffering this cultural and spiritual alienation that affects us so much; this drift, this going astray, this wandering…

The post-mortem world of the Indo-European cultures has to do with the collective memory of the people. It is a “space” that houses the gods, but also the Fathers, all the ancestors without distinction. This can be seen in the Hittite or Aryan-Vedic world (with Yama, Manu’s brother, and the first mortal); in the Celtic world (remember the original Halloween), or in the Roman world (the Manes). Keeping memory and even worship of the absent, the departed, was part of the education and morals of our ancestors, and was a sign of distinction and nobility against other peoples. The Patricians were those who had Fathers, who kept memory of the Fathers, in the sense already said. Let’s say that this memory was part of the “being” for our Indo-European ancestors.

Forgetfulness or loss of these “spaces” had (and has) bad consequences. Precisely the Christian or Muslim preachers noticed such loss or damaged being; this symbolic amputation among the peoples, and therefore preached (and still preach) their values. The loss or decline or forgetting of these spaces leaves people orphaned and incomplete. This was the picture that the Christian apostles (Jews) found in the area of the Roman Empire: stranded peoples abandoned to their lot; incomplete, empty. They found the right spot to spread their worlds. They found people without “being,” without memory, without identity and already acculturated—by their own kind. Christian acculturation, or later Muslim acculturation, allowed these people to complete their symbolic being—at least spuriously in the outside.

What I’m writing down has a counterpart, a repetition in our contemporary European and Western world. Both are similar circumstances that repeat the cultural deterioration and we see a return to the same religious-cultural “offers”—the everlasting impostors, the usurpers. Not only Christians and the “people of god” (the Hebrew god) lacking a homeland (but with Israel as sacred land), but the “umma”, the stateless Muslim “nation” (though based in Mecca). And also the politicians and the intellectuals: from democratic universalism to proletarian internationalism (Marx’s “workers or proletarians have no fatherland”) to sociologists such as the cosmopolitan Adorno or Marcuse, or Derrida who preaches the philosophy of the philosopher as cosmopolitan and stateless.

It’s the same song again, the same charm, the same lure, the same trap.

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You can find similar reasoning in my blogging of the last year (there are 68 pages) and the posts published this year. I would like you to read, at least, those entries.

The subject requires a great deal of debating with the participation of all Aryan nations: a process of self-gnosis that revisits at least our last two millennia, although in my opinion we should start with the cultural deterioration that has its beginning in the pre-Socratic times and reached its climax in imperial Rome (from Caesar on).

Well, César, I don’t take more of your time.

Regards,

Manu