web analytics
Categories
Yearling (novel)

The Yearling, 7

For two weeks Penny concerned himself with the salvaging of crops. The sweet potatoes were not ready, by two months, for digging. But they were rotting and would be a total loss if they were not dug. Jody worked long hours at them.

The smell of death lay everywhere.

Penny said uneasily, “Somethin’s wrong. That stink’s due to be done with. Things is yit dyin’.”

A month after the flood, in October, he returned with Jody in the wagon beside him to Mullet Prairie to gather the cut and cured hay. Rip and Julia trotted along behind the wagon. Penny allowed Flag, too, to follow for he had begun to make a great commotion whenever he was shut up and left behind in the shed.

(Chechar’s note: But even so they continued to hunt deers…)

Penny stopped the wagon and took up his gun and went with Jody over the fence to the dogs. A buck deer lay in the corner. It shook its head, making a menacing motion with its horns. Penny lifted his gun, then lowered it.

“Now that buck’s sick, too.”

He approached close and the deer did not move. Its tongue lolled. Julia and Rip were in a frenzy. They could not understand the refusal of live game either to run or to fight.

“No use to waste shot.”

He took his knife from its scabbard and went to the deer and slit its throat. It died with the quiet of a thing to whom death is only one short step beyond a present misery. He drove off the dogs and examined it carefully. Its tongue was black and swollen. Its eyes were red and watery. It was as thin as the dying wild-cat.

He said, “This is worse’n I figgered. A plague has hit the wild creeturs. Hit’s the black tongue.”

Jody had heard of human plagues. The wild animals had always seemed to him to be charmed, and beyond all human ills. A creature died in the chase, or when another creature, more powerful, pounced and destroyed. Death in the scrub was clean and violent, never a slow sickness and lingering. He stared down at the dead deer.

He said, “We’ll not eat it, will we?”

Penny shook his head.

“Tain’t fitten.”

The dogs were sniffing farther down the fence-row. Julia barked again. Penny looked after her. A pile of carcasses lay in a heap. Two old bucks and a yearling had died together. Jody had seldom seen his father’s face so grave. Penny examined the plague-killed deer and turned away without speaking. Death seemed to have appeared wholesale out of the air.

“What done it, Pa? What kilt ’em?”

Again Penny shook his head.

“I’ve never knowed what give the black tongue. Mebbe hit’s the flood water, full o’ dead things, has got pizenous.”

A fear shot through Jody like a hot knife.

“Pa–Flag. He’ll not get it, will he?”

“Son, I’ve told you all I know.”

Penny said, “I hope you do a heap of it, for the flood’s done you outen a teacher. The Forresters and me had it settled to board a teacher between us for you and Fodder-wing this winter. When Fodder-wing died, I still figgered I’d do some trappin’ and git cash money that-a-way. But the creeturs is so scarcet now and the hides so pore, hit’s no use.”

papa ensena a su hijito

This is the image that my dad showed me when I was a kid. He told me that the illustration was beautiful as it reflected how a dad taught his son with a loving mother in the background (with very, very different words of course).


Jody said comfortingly, “That’s all right. I know a heap now.”

“That jest proves your ignorance, young feller. I do hate for you to grow up and not know nothin’. You’ll jest have to make out this year with what leetle I kin learn you.”

Categories
Friedrich Nietzsche Psychology Stefan Zweig Struggle with the Daimon (book)

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
Judaism Miscegenation

…with all thine being

Further to my post about René Guénon.

For an outsider who visits WDH for the first time it would seem unbelievably stupid that, being only a tiny minority, so-called white nationalists fight themselves so vehemently over the boards. But this hypothetical visitor has already been damaged by secular Liberalism and universal Christian values. Just take a look at the Jews and why they always beat us.

In Judaism it would be utterly, utterly unthinkable to advertise the “traditionalist” work of a Jew who “married an Arab woman and sired a batch of half-breeds.”

This morning I awoke up early because, even while sleeping, the thought of blond English roses with Negro partners was so disturbing that I could sleep no more. Why are westerners tolerating the sin against the holy ghost right in front of their noses? Because even in conservative circles, I mean: even in “nationalist” circles, for decades they have tolerated figures like Guénon and many other race traitors.

In Gothic Spain before Christendom Guénon and his partner would have been burned at the stake before they could breed little mongrels. Well, something of what remains of Goth blood in my veins is still boiling up.

In the previous thread I told my body-snatched debaters that, since unlike John Martínez and I they don’t live in Latin America, they really are clueless about how mestization can take over a whole continent once it starts to be tolerated. It can be no coincidence that precisely the bloggers who have had more experience with mestization and mongrelization are the ones who can see through the myopia, and even voluntary blindness, of North American white nationalism.

No: it is not insane to fight these “nationalists” when one sees how universal Liberalism has infected even the nationalist blogsites. What is more, I sincerely believe that Greg Johnson and others who have people like Guénon on the pedestal should do an honest examination of conscience; acknowledge that they have sinned against their race, and be humble enough to behave like children again by reading the Nazi pamphlets written in the 1930s for kids. This is from Faith and Action:

But the Nordic race must dominate in Germany and shape the soul of each German. It must win out in the breast of each individual. Today our ideal is not the artist or the citizen, but the hero.

Hitlerjugend7

Our highest treasure is the soul that we have been given. He who mixes his blood with that of foreign inferior races ruins the blood and soul that have been given to him to pass on in purity to his children.

He makes his children impure and miserable, and commits the greatest crime that he as a National Socialist can commit.

Mark my words, pseudo-racialists. The sin against the holy ghost won’t be tolerated in WDH. So speaks the one who has family members who have committed that sin. Real racialists give a damn about what the sophisticate are saying at Counter-Currents or Arktos Press. These guys are not genuine white nationalists. The fact is that what a child could understand in Nazi Germany the foremost pundits of English-speaking white nationalism can’t. They don’t really love their race with all their heart, and with all their soul, and with all their might, and…

Categories
Friedrich Nietzsche Goethe Psychology Stefan Zweig Struggle with the Daimon (book)

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
Islam

Was René Guénon one of us?

Or:

Philosophers, expats from Laputa

Having brought down kings and queens and aristocrats in the name of “equality,” it was logical [for white liberals] to declare war on Nature itself.Hunter Wallace

Jewish power is directly proportional to the character of White people.Hunter Wallace

In his latest article about Julius Evola, Greg Johnson said: “Along with René Guénon, Evola is one of the writers who has most influenced the metapolitical outlook and project of Counter-Currents…”

Well, Evola has been debunked here at least for my satisfaction. But remember my recent entry where I talked about what tipped my apothecary scale from Bicausalism Type-A to Type-B? “If even white nationalists,” I wrote, “have fallen into the suicidal hedonistic meme, there must be another factor besides the Jewish one.” I had in mind the rock music and the decadent sexual mores that quite a few of so-called white nationalists love, including Johnson.

What moved me to criticize philosophy in the previous threads is that visitors to nationalist sites are wasting their time over the boards instead of reading the ABC of the history of the white race, that is, the ideological fundamentals for racial preservation (see the books that I recommend in today’s page).

Regarding my highly critical view of accepted Western wisdom, so accepted that even “nationalists” share this delusion, John Martínez commented today:

Rene-guenon-1925


Ever since you [Chechar] began to question the relevance of the discipline pompously self-entitled “philosophy” for the White cause (in addition to criticising religion by and large and Christianity in particular in this regard, as you had long been doing), a couple of commenters took the pains to split hairs and defend the honor of some philosophers and some religious views.

In one of the latest threads I personally mentioned one the main figures behind the views of some of the commenters, French Traditionalist metaphysician René Guénon [photo above].

Well, this is from the article on Wikipedia concerning the guy. This is for you and the readers of the West’s Darkest Hour to see how apropos, how appropriate the study of the works and lives of important thinkers like Guénon is for the cause of White Nationalism. I should add that by the time of the events mentioned in these passages, Guénon had already arabicized his name and become Abd al-Wahid Yahya:

In 1930, Guénon left Paris for Cairo, with the aim of gathering and translating written documents of islamic esoterism. This project was abruptly abandoned after a decision of his editor. Left alone in Cairo, Guénon declined all propositions by his friends that he return to France. Despite his declining financial condition, Guénon relentlessly corresponded with his counterparts from many countries around the world as well as continuing his own writing projects.

Although remaining in Egypt certainly exposed Guénon to the cultural ambience of Sufism and ancient esotericism for which he had already demonstrated a strong affinity, his refusal to return to Europe created undoubted hardship for him. As if in compensation for this hardship, Guénon was fortunate enough to meet Sheikh Salama Hassan ar-radi, founder of the Hamidiya Shadhiliya sufi order, which he soon joined. Guénon accompanied the Sheikh until the latter’s death in 1938. Around the same time, Guénon also met another Sufi, Sheikh Mohammad Ibrahim, whose daughter he married in 1934. This marriage resulted in four children, the last (Abdel Wahed) born in 1951. During his lengthy sojourn in Egypt, René Guénon carried on an austere and simple life, entirely dedicated to his writings and spiritual development. In 1949, he obtained Egyptian citizenship…

René Guénon died on January 7, 1951; it is reported that his final word was Allah (“God”).

By the way: did I mention that Brazilian Traditionalist philosopher Olavo de Carvalho, through whom I got in touch with the Traditionalist school of thinkers, is an ardent anti-racist pure White whose first wife was a Black woman who gave him a couple of Mestizo children?

Like you pointed out, Chechar, if the White race goes extinct (as Richard Lynn thinks will happen) and the torch of civilization passes on the North-Asians—the Chinese, Korean, and Japanese historians of the future will be baffled to see how, after some 2500 years of deeply penetrating speculation, the Western giants of thinking not only did not see what was coming, but took themselves an active part in the bringing about of the catastrophe.

Totally immersed in their religious and pseudo-wise fantasies, asses like Guénon (and Carvalho, for that matter) are too good to bother about such a trifling matter as the White race. What’s wrong with mongrelizing with Arabs and Blacks if we are all children of the same Semitic God? To speak like Hillary Clinton, What difference does it make?

These charlatans remind me of a chapter in Gulliver’s Travels, in which the narrator visits a country of sages, Laputa, where the regular folks live so absorbed in their own thoughts that their wives cuckold them right and left and they have to be constantly attended by pages, who now and them hit them on their faces with small cloth bags full of little pebbles in order to make them breathe again, since they keep forgetting to, so concentrated they are on their thinking.

The White race will soon be mongrelized to the last individual, but hey, what were you saying about the “metaphysical unity of all religions”?


My comment:

What would-be nationalists (see again my definition of a real nationalist) should learn is that both their theologians and philosophers miserably failed the white race. At Counter-Currents they still want to talk about “philosophy,” Guénon and Evola, because these guys are Type-A Bicausalists, which means that they mostly blame Jews for our woes. If the tribe is mainly the culprit, they reason among themselves, our house is basically in order.

We Type-B Bicausalists on the other hand know that it’s us who brought self-extermination to our own home; Jews, a mere epiphenomenon of our sins (see Hunter Wallace’s epigraphs above).

John: although this is an entry I’ll speak as if it was a thread comment. See how in another recent thread here, commenter Armor said that “whites are not stupid” in the context of blaming Jews for race-replacement and implying that whites are innocent—a monocausal monologue all too frequent in nationalist sites with the exception of Wallace’s Occidental Dissent.

The ignorance of so-called nationalists about elemental psychology tempts me to start a new series about intuitive psychology (which must not be confused with academic psychology), only to show our visitors how flawed human philosophers are, starting perhaps with some Zweig excerpts about poor Nietzsche.

Thoughts?

Categories
Harold Covington Podcasts Real men

“Grow Stronger!”

harold_covington

Listen to the latest speech
of the Old Man (here).

Categories
Helmut Stellrecht Hitler Youth

“Self Control”

Hitlerjugend7



From Faith and Action (1938) by Helmut Stellrecht for the Hitler Youth:


One expects that a person who drives a car is in control, and that he causes no accidents. One expects that a person who lives with other people will control himself, so that he does not endanger himself or others.

§ The forces within us can raise or lower us. It depends on the use we make of them, on whether we control them and therefore ourselves.

§ Hunger and thirst exist to be satisfied. But woe to him who eats for the sake of eating or drinks for the sake of drinking. He is lower than an animal that knows when it has had enough. But he to whom understanding has been given does not know it. We hate the gluttons and drunkards with bulging bodies and swollen eyes, people with no character or self control. We eat and drink to live, but we never live in order to eat and drink.

§ The body must be kept under iron discipline so that we are always in charge of it and it is always dependable. We also may never allow the sexual drive to control us. For adults it is not there to be satisfied, but rather a force that should be used to produce future generations healthy in both body and soul. A young person is given strength not to use in bed, but rather in the sun and the wind, on the sports field and countryside, until we have a body in front of us full of strength and speed, a body in which courage and faith are joined in a free soul, a body that is master of its passions, master of itself, the German person of the future. Out of it will grow the strength of a renewed people, the bearer of a future generation of nobility and freedom.

§ If you control yourself, you control life.

§ If you control yourself, you must be able to bear pain without uttering a sound. Men do not complain or cry, and boys who want to become men behave in the same way.

§ You should not give in to every little problem. Be open, be determined, never play the cripple, but control yourself. Be the master of your pain and problems. Force yourself to be cheerfully faithful. Then you will find strength you did not know you had.

§ You must practice self control. How often does duty call, but something distracts you? Command yourself so that you can master yourself.

§ Do something every day that you do not like to do, and avoid doing something every day that you would gladly have done.

§ Do everything you are ordered to do immediately, without thinking about it. You must in order to become a real man.

§ That is the secret of every great personality. It has gained all the strength it directs outwardly from overcoming itself.

§ But you should not be a meek person who gives up everything in order to live in a cave to receive a promised blessing. God does not want that for a person. He should have pleasure in his work. He should use it, but never misuse it, and should be the master of himself.

Categories
Eschatology Ethnic cleansing March of the Titans (book) Who We Are (book) William Pierce

Who is one of us?

My recent posts, “Was Nietzsche one of us?” and “Was Evola one of us?” move me to ask the central question in the movement. This is my response. A white nationalist:

arthur-kemp(1) sees all history and the world of ideas through the prism of white racial preservation. He must know by heart the historical facts collected by William Pierce in his last book, Who We Are and Arthur Kemp (photo) in March of the Titans: The Complete History of the White Race;

(2) is perfectly aware of the Jewish Problem; and

(3) envisions the ethnostate as the solution to our problems, which means expelling all non-whites (including Jews) from Europe, North America and Australia, independently of the cost of human lives that the implementation of such project would require.

In his more recent interviews Kemp strongly disagreed with the late Pierce’s bloody revolutionary fantasies to reclaim white societies, but pace Kemp that is exactly what will be needed.

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
Philosophy Wikipedia

Was Evola one of us?

Cannot believe it. Just a cursory search on this guy adored by Greg Johnson and so many commenters at Counter-Currents—for God’s sake!: this is Wikipedia’s lead paragraph on Julius Evola—:

evolaHe was never a member of the Italian National Fascist Party (and thus rejected for not being a member), or the Italian Social Republic, and was furthermore engaged in constant criticism of fascism and declaring he was an anti-fascist. Evola regarded his position as that of a sympathetic right-wing intellectual…

One of his successes was in regards to the racial laws; his advocation of a spiritual consideration of race won out in the debate in Italy, rather than a solely materialist reductionism concept popular in Germany.

—and Evola looks, at first sight, like a typical coward conservative, not even a race realist of the kind of Jared Taylor.

“Spiritual consideration of race” rather than “the concept popular in Germany”? Jeez! Unless the wiki got this all wrong, this single piece of data corroborates what I said in my entry about this guy and the pompously called “Buddha,” and it also vindicates my putting one of his books into the trash can, where I guess other of his works also belong.