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Der Antichrist (book) Friedrich Nietzsche


against the Cross, 20

Nietzsche’s guesthouse in Via Carlo Alberto, Turin.

In the first entry of this series, I said that the article by Robert Sheaffer that I first read in 1993 had motivated me to reopen the Nietzsche case, insofar as I consider it central to the point of view of The West’s Darkest Hour. And as I said at the end of the previous entry, once one discovers the primary cause of Aryan decline, everyone else seems idiotic to us, just as the boy who saw the naked king found the adults around him incredibly idiotic.

Becoming like the child of the story represents a huge problem for the adult visionary. ‘Running towards the sun’—Nietzsche’s poetic words to describe himself—in search of ultimate truth results in the visionary being charred, moth-like, as he approaches the primary source of light. No one has described Nietzsche’s dazzling charring better than Stefan Zweig, excerpts from whose book The Struggle with the Daimon I posted more than a decade ago, here.

While I was harsh on Nietzsche in criticising what I call in my autobiography ‘idiotic defence mechanisms’, albeit in his case referring to the eternal return of the identical, I am happy to point out that with The Antichrist this mechanism disappears. Nietzsche himself, in a letter to Franz Overbeck, had acknowledged in April 1884 that his Zarathustra was an ‘anteroom’ and that he was going to spend the next years of his life on ‘the development of my philosophy’.

In The Antichrist, both Zarathustra and the eternal return disappear. Zarathustra would only reappear in his poem Dionysian Dithyrambs, but it is very significant that by this time in December 1888, Nietzsche had already lost his self, and the very title of the first poem of that collection of nine poems to Dionysus is entitled ‘Only Mad! Only Poet!’

That the cause of Nietzsche’s madness was unknown to the doctors who treated him is clear from a letter to Peter Gast of 29 September 1904 written by Otto Binswanger, the director of the Psychiatric Clinic in Jena, where Nietzsche was interned for some months: ‘No one will be able to write an exact medical history of Friedrich Nietzsche’, Binswanger asserted, ‘since the beginnings of the illness have not been fully established’.

Why, then, the mania of the last decades to see the aetiology of Nietzsche’s disorder as a somatic disease? Tip: it is part of Big Pharma’s propaganda to sell us their damned drugs from the 1950s onwards. And the same can be said of those who have written about Vincent van Gogh, who would also be temporarily committed to a psychiatric ward. A better approach to the tragedy of both simultaneous cases can be found in the last words of the third volume of Curt Paul Janz’s extensive biographical study of Nietzsche:

The indulgent veil of mental derangement meant that he no longer had to be aware of it. It gave him something else: the tremendum of the genius chord. Without this ending, the fascination that his entire philosophy exerts on the history of philosophy, which places him close to the heroic-tragic end of Socrates—that Socrates whose rival (at least as much) he wanted to be—would certainly be lacking. But, in Nietzsche, it is not only about the end. His whole existence was a martyrdom. And this opens up for him the connection… with a great community. It means the way from the loneliness so badly endured to belonging to the community of the martyrs of the spirit that is far greater than one is usually willing to admit.

This last sentence has been with me for a long time since a Spanish girlfriend gave me Janz’s book as a present in March 1992, when I was living in Barcelona.

Already in January 1889, Nietzsche sent his incredible missives to several characters, including Franz Overbeck. When Overbeck arrived at the Via Carlo Alberto guesthouse in Turin on 8 January 1889 to rescue his friend, he found him completely mad and ‘surrounded by papers’. After returning Nietzsche to his native Germany, Overbeck took the papers back to Basel and among them, he found the manuscript of The Antichrist, carefully wrapped in a folio. By saving this book, Overbeck saved the key to Nietzsche’s thought. Overbeck wrote to Peter Gast, asking him which works Nietzsche had left unfinished; Gast wrote back and, by return of post, Overbeck replied as follows in February 1889:

Of the Transvaluation of All Values, in particular, there is only the first book, also wrapped in a white folio, with the title:

The Antichrist
Transvaluation of All Values

The second line is crossed out and replaced by the words ‘Curse on Christianity’.

Five weeks later, after reading the work, Overbeck sent Gast another letter, in which he says: ‘In particular, Nietzsche’s conception of Christianity seems to me to be too political, so to speak’. Overbeck wrote that line in criticism, but that is exactly what, 130 years later, David Skrbina would conclude in The Jesus Hoax: that Christianity was originally a political manoeuvre of the Jews against Rome!

It is clear from the correspondence between Overbeck, the first reader of The Antichrist and Gast that, as Nietzsche neared his end, his ideas about his work changed completely. The Transvaluation of All Values had been intended as a four-volume work, of which The Antichrist would have been the first. But Nietzsche himself wrote to George Brandes at the beginning of December 1888: ‘In three weeks I shall give orders for the printing of The Antichrist: Transvaluation of All Values’. In other words, once he had finished The Antichrist Nietzsche decided to burn the midnight oil, and what had been the first part of the work was transformed in its entirety.

A month after his letter to the Jew Brandes, Nietzsche had already carbonised himself internally, writing letters such as ‘to shoot the German emperor and all anti-Semites’. Andrés Sánchez Pascual says that despite the psychotic breakdown, ‘at that moment Nietzsche makes a totally lucid and consistent decision: he crossed out the subtitle “Transvaluation of all values” and under it, he writes the following: “Curse on Christianity”.’

Alas, because Nietzsche lost his mind he didn’t send the manuscript to his publisher, as planned. When, not long afterwards, the manuscript of The Antichrist fell into Elisabeth’s hands, she mutilated not only the subtitle but the climax of the book—the final page—when she published it in 1895! Had her brother not become disturbed, the original version that Overbeck found ready for the press would have been published as early as 1889, after Twilight of the Idols. It was not until Elisabeth died well into the 20th century that all the manuscripts of the Nietzsche Archive were made freely available to researchers.

In 1961, seventy-three years after the work was written, Erich Podach published a landmark book on Nietzschean editions. He showed that The Antichrist had undergone mutilations in addition to those already known, and made known for the first time the ‘Law against Christianity’.

By 1964, what appears to be the definitive edition of Nietzsche’s entire works was underway. Directed by the Italians Giorgio Colli and Mazzino Montinari, it was published simultaneously in German, Italian and French. The following decade I was to benefit from the Spanish translation of The Antichrist as Nietzsche had left the manuscript carefully wrapped in a white folio, translated by Andrés Sánchez Pascual.

Sánchez Pascual tells us that this work ‘is the most coherent conclusion, the necessary conclusion, of his entire mental path. If Nietzsche’s thought does not lead to The Antichrist, it leads nowhere’. And he adds that to remain in his previous texts and ‘not to advance to The Antichrist is, quite simply, not to dare to look Nietzsche in the eye’.

Friedrich Nietzsche Stefan Zweig


against the Cross, 14

Heinrich Köselitz (‘Peter Gast’)

While it is true that Nietzsche was unable to detect the Jewish subversion that many in the 19th century could already detect, he was able to see, like no other, the subversion that had come from Judaism through Christianity. As Stefan Zweig wrote in the most lyrical essay ever written on the plummeting of the anguished eagle:

Nietzsche came to see that the malevolent thing was Christianity with its belief in a life beyond the tomb; that this was the principle which cast a shadow upon the modern world. ‘Evil-smelling Judaism, a compost of rabbinism and superstition’, had ruined and supressed the sensuality and merriment of the world. For fifty generations it had served to dope and demoralise mankind, to paralyse all that had previously constituted the vital force of the universe. But now (and suddenly he sees the mission of his life) a crusade against the Cross must begin to reconquer the holy places of man’s realm and existence upon this earth.

By embarking on a crusade, Nietzsche underwent the most radical change of his life from 1880 onwards. The previous year he had turned thirty-five, and he had always had the superstition that he would go into a mental tailspin just as his father had gone at the age of thirty-six.

Nietzsche was a little-known author: a marginal figure considered talented, but too eccentric for German speakers. But he discovered that it was precisely in the most painful periods of his existence that his philosophical productivity increased: what we now call a psychological defence mechanism. By way of super-compensation for what was happening to him, he began to believe that he needed to leave for posterity an epoch-making legacy now that the Judeo-Christian god was dead.

These were the times when Cosima had decided that Nietzsche had committed a sin against the Holy Ghost, i.e. that he couldn’t be forgiven, and when Peter Gast wrote from Venice that he had to guide his friend Nietzsche through the streets like a blind man. Headaches continued to ravage him. Nietzsche himself wrote: ‘On five occasions I pleaded, as a doctor, for death’.

He sought refuge in the high mountains. He had to search long and hard before he found a suitable place: Sils im Engadin/Segl, also known as Sils-Maria, in the Swiss canton of Graubünden: whose name will henceforth be inseparably linked to his own because of the time he spent there, despite the terrible fatigue that such a journey entailed for a half-blind. At 1,830 metres above sea level, Sils-Maria was sometimes snowy and cold even in the middle of summer, and Nietzsche had to endure something that he found fatal: many storms. It is curious that he later he researched in Genoa where there might be an ideal place without clouds and storms—Nietzsche couldn’t bear an eternally cloudy sky—and even entertained the idea of moving to Oaxaca in Mexico for its clear, cloudless skies and the sun he longed for.

To his only apostle at this point, Peter Gast, Nietzsche wrote: ‘There is nothing that can make up for the loss, in recent years, of Wagner’s sympathy for me. How often I dream of him, and always in our comforting meetings!’ He had been abandoned by all his friends, who could no longer tolerate the freedom of his thought, the new viewpoint of the eagle who looked down on Europe from on high. Only the faithful Peter Gast was left to him.

As I have said, Nietzsche was a man against his time: a fact he could never digest and he spewed it out in his somatic attacks. That was why, like a wayward defence mechanism, with open arms he accepted the pain and sang his hymn of saying ‘yes’ to life. If he discovered that his illness served as a sting to his philosophising and that it was thanks to it that he left Basel, then the disease with its birth pains freed him so that his Zarathustra could be born. ‘Only pain gives knowledge’, he intones in poetic prose. ‘Only pain liberates the spirit, only pain forces us to descend into the depths of our being’.

A martyr by contraries, he was not put to the torture because of a faith which had already become established in his mind. No, it was out of torment, it was when he was upon the rack, that he formulated his creed… Thus he ran over and over again to the fiery whirlwind of pain and submits to the torments so as to recapture ‘the enchanting sensation of good health’.

No sooner had he grasped the meaning of his illness and enjoyed the voluptuous delight of health than he wished to transform it into an apostolate… He desired further and more agonizing martyrdom… and in the excess of his enthusiasm… he goes out raising that flag without realising that it is the one that, at the same time, draws the bow that is going to shoot him the deadly arrow.

But the philosophy of Amor fati was deceptive magic for an eagle that sees everything! I have already said so on this site when trying to communicate with a racialist whom I treated one week in London (a young man who had previously been committed to a mental institution and is now serving a prison sentence).

If we look at Nietzsche’s life not as today’s bio-reductionists want to see it, but as the all-too-human human he was, we will see that with the fall that really happened to him—though not in his 36th year but in his 44th—we come upon a fact. With madness his ills disappeared, so I deduce that they were psychosomatic. Nietzsche himself had used, in speaking of himself, the metaphor of a machine that was about to explode: something that undoubtedly referred to his future insanity.

Werner Ross tells us in his biography: ‘Insanity, therefore, is no longer an organic disease’. It was something almost premeditated in pursuit of a posthumous resurrection I would dare to add, so that the man against his time would miraculously become, after the psychotic outbreak, a man of his time.


CQ in a nutshell

In today’s Aryan collective unconscious, the extremely negative introjects and injunctions from a toxified superego are ultimately due to Christianity.

______ 卐 ______

There is jargon above but it can be deciphered after reading the middle part of my Day of Wrath. Ayway, it summarises what we mean when talking about the Christian question.



One of the problems in communicating new ideas lies in what we might call paronyms. The word ‘Hitler’ for example is a paronym because when I use it I refer to, let’s say, what I have been quoting from Simms’ book and my views on it. If I use the word ‘Hitler’ with a normie, he automatically understands something very different: the Hitler of propaganda.

Another great example is the word ‘Jesus’. When I use the word ‘Jesus’ I mean the fictitious character from the devious pen of the Jew Saul (Paul), a character to whom, when the Romans destroyed the Temple in Jerusalem, another Jew, Mark, added anecdotes of his own invention. But for the normie, the word ‘Jesus’ means something quite different. Christians believe that ‘Jesus’ is the incarnation of the god of the Jews who came down to save us and, although atheists don’t believe that, many are under the impression that he existed as an ordinary man.

Something similar happens with the word ‘autobiography’. Yesterday’s trollish comment prompts me to clarify something.

The word ‘autobiography’ means, to me, something very different from what it means to ordinary people. Let’s suppose that a reader holds my book Hojas Sususrrantes in his hands and out of its five chapters decides to read the second and fourth chapters. He would be surprised to notice that almost the entire content of those chapters is a debunking of the mental health professions and a presentation of psychohistory, where my life is almost absent (see for example my translation of the fourth chapter in Day of Wrath).

What kind of ‘autobiography’ in the normal sense of the term is that? It’s like Solzhenitsyn’s The Gulag Archipelago where, while the Russian writer uses anecdotes from his life as a pivot, the point is not to talk about his life but about the Soviet Union’s forced labour camps, where tens of millions died (something Putin cunningly omitted from his historical review when interviewed by Tucker).

So beware of words that mean very different things to different people. Words like ‘Hitler’, ‘Jesus’ and ‘autobiography’, plain and simple, lend themselves to tremendous confusion. That’s why I almost always add the adjective ‘deep autobiography’ to the literary genre I would like to inaugurate, which, I believe, could cure people like Marco, about whom I have spoken in my series on narcissism (see my postscript on Monday).

But in real life not even admirers of the Führer who have suffered from mental disorders want to do this work, not even one of them whom I knew personally (see for example this comment from January). I think the late Alice Miller was right on this point. Trying to heal psychological trauma requires work. I would add that it is work similar to the time it would take us to write a doctoral thesis, with the difference that in this work we pass the microphone to the wounded child that still dwells deep in our psyche.

Autobiography Psychology

Narcissism, 5

The time has come to talk about what I said in the second instalment of this series: Marco’s offer of his second house and the funds from the phantom bank account he allegedly wanted to give me. What shocked me the first time I heard such a thing, during a phone call the day after our mall failed meeting, was that I hadn’t dealt with Marco for four decades and suddenly he came out with it!

Yesterday his cousin revealed to me the names of one of his brothers (i.e. another first cousin of Marco’s), a daughter of the cousin and a niece who had also been suggested by Marco to move into his second house. Yesterday the cousin also revealed to me something I was unaware of: that the house is at such an early stage of construction that the second floor doesn’t even have a roof! (Before, I was under the impression that it was just a hole in the ceiling.) I don’t want to mention the names of these other relatives of Marco because, as I said yesterday, I don’t want that family to know that I am writing about them. But the whole thing reminds me of what Harold Covington called GUBU freak: Grotesque, Unbelievable, Bizarre, Unprecedented. Last year I was shocked when I realised that the old friend of the park where we played chess had suffered a GUBU psychosis, and since I talk about mental disorders in my books, I couldn’t resist the temptation to psychoanalyse him in my diaries.

Cases of severe psychosis are all GUBUs to the layman. In a previous entry, I mentioned Silvano Arieti’s treatise on schizophrenia. The cases Arieti mentions, and especially the depth psychology he uses to unravel them, are fascinating even if the reader is unprepared to enter that conceptual world. What I do with Marco is also similar, in a way, to what Martin Gardner (1914-2010) did in his Skeptical Inquirer column: what I liked best about that journal. Gardner analysed cases of very crazy people in the paranormal world, and in such a jocular way that his column was a real treat. Thanks to him and other writers in the magazine, I realised that parapsychology was a pseudo-science, and I remember a line of Gardner’s that is worth picking up on: ‘Cranks are fascinating creatures’ in need of being analysed a bit!

What Marco does with these house offers is nothing more than what gurus do: they bombard you with love to lure you into their cult. This has been observed by those who study destructive cults. But what gave me the GUBU shock, to the extent that it motivated me to write so much in my diaries, is that Marco wasn’t like this in the past. It is a psychosis that the former friend has fallen into in recent years, although I can’t pinpoint an exact date as I stopped seeing him for a long time. Even his first cousin has limited information about his biography (yesterday I advised him to contact a woman I knew decades ago, Marco’s ex-partner, so that through her anecdotes he has more pieces of the puzzle we want to put together).

The GUBU character in Marco’s current psychosis, who I repeat wasn’t crazy when I met him, is seen with extreme clarity in his demand that we come and live in his second house when it still lacks a roof above the stairs. Unlike the gurus, who aren’t psychotic, such narcissists become increasingly isolated because those close to them begin to perceive that their demands are not only irrational and grotesque, but blatantly injurious to those close to the narcissist. Only a son of a street sweeper, and we can imagine the social stratum of that Mexican, consented to go to Marco’s second home for a while.

I spent hours talking to the cousin yesterday, but those who haven’t had a misadventure with a narcissist won’t understand why it becomes almost an obsession to psychoanalyse an acquaintance, friend, partner or relative who suffers from this condition. True, the already psychotic forms of narcissism are no more bizarre than the schizophrenias. But the difference is that, unlike schizophrenics, narcissists want to drag others into their maelstrom (‘If I live in a spider-webbed house, come on and live in a roofless one!’).

In giving my Hojas susurrantes to Marco, I had the faint hope that he would settle the score with his late mother, in the form of writing his memoirs, especially the painful ones. While it is true that Marco was full of praise when he read the voluminous book, it is very significant that he didn’t mention my mother at all when he phoned to eulogise my writing, even though the first of the book’s five chapters is almost exclusively about her. Nor did he say anything to me when he got my second book, in which I inscribed a few words on the first page on the day my mother died: a book whose central chapter is, once again, about my mother.

It doesn’t take much science to see that Marco is shying away from the subject not only of his mother but of mine and other similar mothers. The skeletons I have unburied through my autobiography, Marco has buried in his mind, so it should come as no surprise that he is as mad as he is. Marco’s repression is such that he couldn’t even say half a word to me about my mother after he had devoured the 700 pages of my Hojas susurrantes last year. What kind of reading was that?

I believe that severe cases of mental illness are directly proportional to the repression of what happened to us with our parents. In ¿Me ayudarás? for example, the second book I sent to Marco, I mention that, although she had delusions from time to time, my late sister didn’t become schizophrenic because, even when she had delusions, the image of the mother was faintly present. Once, for example, my sister told me that the manager of the building where she lived, a certain Sylvia (our mother’s name!), was plotting to make her life miserable. I knew this Sylvia, and I got to talk to her in her flat. She told me that at one point my sister’s paranoia had been such that she had called the police because of her conspiracy theories. But despite these occasional crises my sister didn’t deteriorate (true schizophrenics hear voices, speak in ‘words salad’ and, in the most severe cases, even suffer from catatonia). And if she didn’t deteriorate it was because, at least metaphorically, ‘Sylvia’, our mother, was faintly present even during her crises.

In cases of true schizophrenia, Arieti reports, the conspiring agents are no longer obvious symbols of the abusive parents. For example, the patient speaks of the FBI or CIA persecuting him or her. In a case of psychosis that happened to a white nationalist, Jonathan Bowden (1962-2012), he saw the Mossad as his persecutors. This, according to Arieti, is even more serious than cases of simple delusions where the parent is faintly present as the parental figure is, now, totally absent.

In other words, for those of us who had mothers with fluid ego contours, those immature women who treated us as egoic objects, incapable of a healthy ‘psychological childbirth’ with their offspring, the more the memories of their mistreatment are present in our minds, the greater our mental health will be. On the other hand, the more repressed they are, the more prone you are to neuroses and even psychoses. My sister talked a lot about our mother, even complaining to our relatives about what she did to her. So her disorder was comparatively mild and occasional. This wasn’t the case with Marco who represses, en bloc, every negative aspect related to his mother to the extent of never saying half a word to me about mine (my second book, which as I said he also owns, is more than 600 pages long and even contains photos of my mother)!

I spent hours talking to Marco’s cousin yesterday about him. But I think that what I have said on this blog is enough. If anyone would like to know the details of my interaction with Marco, whom I don’t think I will ever deal with again (his cousin will still see him), I will be happy to do so in the comments section.

Sometimes it is necessary to analyse a GUBU freak to understand a mad West…

Pseudoscience Psychiatry Psychology

Narcissism, 3

I would not have fully understood Marco without noticing that there were a considerable number of YouTube channels talking about narcissism. But there is a fundamental flaw in all of them. Unlike Silvano Arieti’s treatise which helped me so much to understand serious mental disorders (my summary here), these youtubers don’t illustrate their knowledge with specific cases. Perhaps they do so out of cowardice, as there are quite a few people like Marco in the world. They don’t even have to use real names but pseudonyms, so why they don’t use real-life cases to illustrate their theories is a mystery.

Quite independently of such an obvious flaw, I was impressed that these youtubers say that the malignant narcissist can be distinguished by his or her lack of empathy. As we saw in the previous post, Marco showed me off his cobwebbed house that reminded me of vampire castles without noticing that I watched in horror as the thick layer of dust also covered the armchairs in his living room. In fact, I had to turn over one of the cushions of one of his armchairs so that I could sit in his living room and not get dust on my trousers. To show off his house to me without realising that I was horrified, is to lack the most basic empathy.

Youtubers also talk a lot about the gratuitous rage of narcissists, who explode at the drop of a hat. As we also saw, Marco exploded in anger when the taxi driver and I couldn’t easily find his house without a street number. These youtubers also talk about paranoia, which I witnessed in that September call last year with his claim that his relatives craved to steal his house. Another thing the youtubers say that portrays Marco is that those who suffer from malignant narcissism have fluid contours in their ego, so they treat people as egoic objects. This is so surreal that I must illustrate it with an anecdote.

In the previous entry I had promised to explain why we didn’t meet in a mall last year. The answer is that Marco had told me he would meet me outside a restaurant. However, given the unpunctuality of Mexicans, I have been in the habit of meeting them inside a restaurant on my appointments. This allows me to bring a book and entertain myself if the Mexican in question is unpunctual. I told Mexican Marco a couple of times that I would wait for him inside the restaurant. In a Sam Vaknin video I saw yesterday, he said that the narcissist only registers what you say if it goes along with the narcissist’s narrative. It seems incredible, but even in something as prosaic as the location during an appointment Marco didn’t hear what I said more than once: he heard his original voice that he would look for me outside the restaurant.

The result was that we didn’t meet. It was very frustrating in that, although Mexico City is as large as Houston, with fifteen million more people and far fewer freeways it is very difficult to get around. I chose a Sunday for the appointment at the mall far north of the city because there is not much traffic on Sundays and the taxi driver only made an hour’s drive along a freeway from my house to the mall. Marco had arrived by public transport, so it took him an hour and a half to get to the mall. Counting the return trip for both of us, it was five hours of wasted transport, plus the hour and a half wasted in the mall thinking we had both been stood up. All because Marco didn’t want to register in his mind what I told him: that I would wait for him sitting down, inside the restaurant.

A trivial case you might say, but perfect to explain what it means to treat others as egoic objects: the will of the other guy becomes invisible, and one only deals internally with one’s own will, despite the calamity that Marco had to suffer (Perinorte, the mall referred to, is very notorious because the cell phone signal there is very poor, so we couldn’t communicate when we were in and out of the restaurant). But what causes a ‘narcissism’ that it is not even possible to convey such a simple idea as that we will wait for a friend inside a restaurant?

Thanks to the visit of Marco’s first cousin at my house, who had known him since he was a small child, I tied up some loose ends. I already knew that Marco had been raised by a slightly mentally retarded mother, who apparently had been raped: Marco’s absent father. What I didn’t know, and only learned from what the cousin told me, was that Marco had been raised exclusively by his mother. (Before his visit, I had been left with the idea that an aunt and grandmother, in addition to his mother, had been Marco’s guardian figures; I didn’t know that, from an early age, the mother had migrated from some villages to the capital, where Marco grew up.)

Now that single mothers are in vogue in the West, it is becoming clear what havoc some of them wreak on their offspring, especially boys, who have never had a father figure to attach themselves to. Marco, according to his cousin, suffered an absolute mental breakdown the day his mother died, to the extent that his cousin had to make all the arrangements for her funeral and burial while Marco was mentally blocked. I conjecture that this is when Marco’s depression began, as there was no longer the real source where the mother’s only child could settle accounts.

The schizophrenogenic mother

The word schizophrenogenic, which I abbreviate to schizogenic, never appears in the videos of the youtubers who talk about malignant narcissism. It doesn’t even appear in Vaknin’s videos when he openly blames those mothers who undermine the individuation process of their children. I sometimes use the term because it inverts the values of biological psychiatry to the trauma model of mental disorders. (Anyone who has not read what I have written about psychiatry in Daybreak, and still believes that psychiatry is a science, might now read ‘From the Great Confinement to chemical Gulag’ on pages 105-127 of my book.)

Once we reject biological psychiatry and see it for what it is, a pseudo-science, it is easier to see that Vaknin fails by using so many diagnostic categories. I reject not only biological psychiatry, but the hundreds of diagnostic categories of psychiatrists and even clinical psychologists. The reason for this is simple. Even in the videos of Vaknin, who uses a plethora of diagnostic categories, it is clear that sometimes a subject deteriorates from a basically neurotic narcissism into a psychotic one where Vaknin already uses terms like ‘mood disorder’ and even ‘schizoid’. In other words, unlike somatic diseases where a heart condition doesn’t degenerate into a condition of, say, the thighs, in mental disorders everything is very fluid. Contrary to psychiatric claims, neuroses, which even normal people generally suffer from, can degenerate into psychosis (what happened to poor Marco).

What Vaknin does get right in his videos is that the infant internalises the gaze of his mother. When the infant is mistreated by a mother, he cannot say that the mother is bad but blames himself because of a sort of Stockholm syndrome (cf. these pages of my book Day of Wrath). The schizogenic mother, from the fluid contours of her ego, sends her infant an unconscious message: I cannot love you as you are; only when you suppress your individuality, your desires, your will that doesn’t agree with mine and your independence and separation from me. I love you not as a separate entity but as part of me forever, symbiosis, womb: mother and child forever united.

With this engulfing behaviour, the child’s internalised morality begins to turn towards self-denial. The infant seems to internalise a message: To function not only in the family, but in society at large, I mustn’t be myself. Thus the future narcissist begins to be engendered, someone with fluid contours of his ego with the environment. If mother rejects me, it is because I am a bad, spoiled, stupid, ugly child. Some psychologists call this a ‘bad object’ and this object, because it is so bad, has to be expelled. Thus the child projects this bad object, externalises it and turns himself into its antithesis, what some call ‘split’. By projecting it outwards the child purges the bad object from himself, cleanses himself; but at the cost of projecting it onto others.

Marco’s cousin cried when, suffering from paranoia that he and his son wanted to steal his second house, enraged, Marco ran him out of his main house. What the cousin ignores is that Marco has internalised the bad object instilled in him by his mother and now wants to expel it symbolically, by projecting it onto others. What many youtubers call ‘narcissistic abuse’ is nothing more than the unravelling of this long-standing, unresolved dynamic with the real mother.

When a narcissist is confronted with a relative who really loves him or her, like Marco’s first cousin, the narcissist doesn’t know how to cope. It was very stressful for him. Paradoxically, he perceives this love, now really brotherly love (not like the manipulative love of his mother) as manipulation and mistreatment. This sibling love is perceived as dangerous, and the narcissist falls apart and resorts to so-called narcissistic abuse: treating the cousin precisely as he couldn’t treat his biological mother because, as an infant, he was one hundred per cent at her mercy.

But why such a twisted dynamic, in which the grown-up narcissist then tries to act out theatrically with other adults? Because the infant had been conditioned to associate love with betrayal. When the infant, who will become a narcissist, is confronted day by day with this mixture of love and all the negative emotions of the devouring mother—shame, fear, guilt, anger, frustration—he learns to associate love with these negative affects. The abused infant seems to internalise the following: Love is bad, it means that I will be betrayed. Even an eighteen-month-old infant who is treated with this sort of behaviour already feels anger about it. But given the absolute power the mother has over him, he internalises that it is illegitimate to be angry with her. It’s even dangerous. So getting angry with mom must be buried in the mind. But what happens to the infant who buries his emotions?

The anger is internalised as long as it can’t be directed towards mom. The child redirects it to himself. But anger redirected to the internal self, rather than to the original source, transmutes into depression: which is what has happened to Marco since his mother died, with his house so spider-webbed that it reminded me of Nosferatu’s. Just compare what Marco did with his mind with my Hojas susurrantes, the first chapter of which is entitled ‘Letter to mom Medusa’ where I direct the anger outwards, towards the original perpetrators. That’s why I never suffer from depression! In contrast to the vindictive autobiographer, depression is a form of self-directed aggression (see ‘On Depression’, pages 27-41 of my book Daybreak).

And compare also what I do literarily with what Marco advised me: to stop writing my autobiographical books and forget about the past! The very Christian Marco is simply following the accepted wisdom: forgive and forget. But since the unconscious can’t be fooled, look at how my old buddy ended up: mad as a hatter! In other words, not only Christian values must be transvalued as far as Hitler and National Socialism are concerned, but also the Christian ethics of forgiveness, and the Judeo-Christian commandment to honour one’s parent whatever she or he does. Marco, who offended me in his last phone call by subtly advising me to join a Christian church went the opposite way and, as Vaknin says in one of his videos, that can lead to schizoid depression: which is exactly what happened to him.

See for example the five minutes from this point in another of his videos, and especially what he says after minute seventeen when he talks about the work with children of Margaret Mahler, who said: ‘Interpersonal relationships become internalised within the ego, or the self’. Mahler also said that what we call the ego or the self is simply a reflection of our relationships with others, and that all mental illnesses are related to interpersonal problems. It is an important video that Vaknin uploaded twice with different titles. And here Vaknin uses a word I’ve used a lot on this site, introject, about which I’ll say a few things in my next post.

Psychiatry Psychology

Narcissism, 1

A diabolical idea occurred to me today.

You may recall that last month I discussed Sam Vaknin in my short posts ‘Mr Darcy’ and ‘Five Minutes’ in the context of what is now fashionable to label ‘narcissism’ on various YouTube channels. I would prefer the term ‘malignant egomania’ or something along those lines, but there are so many videos on various YouTube channels that if I want any traffic to flow to my opinion on the subject, I have no choice but to use the popular expression.

As I have already said, the fundamental flaw of all these channels is that they expose the subject academically, without concrete examples; and they rarely talk about ‘narcissistic’ parents, those suffering from malignant egomania: a condition that compels them to destroy the minds of their children.

The correct way to expose this pathology would be, in the ancient world, as it was done in Greek tragedy: where tragedies were events of a family, even if they used fictitious characters. It is also possible to use real-life people. Those who have read Stefan Zweig’s The Struggle with the Daimon about the Germans Hölderlin, Kleist and Nietzsche will know that it was a tragedy that Kleist burned his History of My Mind before committing suicide. That missing work would, it seems, have marked the beginning of an authentic depth psychology—unlike the epistemological error that reigns in the universities (for example, the Jew Vaknin pays obeisance to the Jew Freud, whom we have roundly exposed on this site).

True depth psychology, which I conjecture would have begun with Kleist, would begin with those who devised the trauma model of mental disorders. Before that, all we had about tormented souls was Zweig’s approach, illustrating it with 19th-century biographical cases. More evolved is to enter the world whose door Alice Miller opened in the second half of the 20th century.

Since, unlike the YouTubers, I have entered the world whose door Miller opened for us (cf. my trilogy), the diabolical idea I came up with means analysing the former friend I talk about in ‘Mr Darcy’ to illustrate what malignant egomania is. In this way I circumvent, one hundred per cent, the fundamental flaw of every vlogger who talks about it: none of them dares to give concrete examples through life cases of real people!

It could be objected that this has nothing to do with the darkest hour of the West. I differ because biography and history are two sides of the same psychological coin. The ethnosuicidal psychosis from which virtually all Western Aryans currently suffer must be analysed. And to solve inexact problems (not mathematical, computational or chess problems), it is important to limit the scale of the problem to avoid confusing ourselves: what has happened to the mental health professions, especially psychiatry (my original contribution to the unmasking of this pseudo-science can be read here). Only then can we hope to solve our inexact problem, or at least come closer to a theoretical solution.

Instead of a pretentious (and failed) metahistorical work like Oswald Spengler’s, limiting the scale means simply understanding ourselves and our neighbours to, from this limited scale, jump into trying to solve the white man’s ethnosuicidal passion. Youtubers cannot do this because they aren’t even able to use the real names of their parents and close ones, as I do in my books.

Whoever criticises his father with his real name will be able to criticise anyone. However, as the person I have analysed is still alive, I will only use his first name, omitting his surnames. (I use the plural because in the Spanish-speaking world not only the father’s surname is used, but also the mother’s. For example, the current president of Mexico is known by his surnames ‘López Obrador’.)

As soon as I can start the series, I will do so, and I will show how understanding a particular case of narcissism can help us to understand the crazy West that, after 1945, only thinks of ethnosuicide.


Five minutes

I know that the trauma caused by abusive parents, such as what happened to Walsh, who is serving a prison sentence, is not a topic that is discussed in racialist forums. However, it is fundamental to understanding certain notable personalities of American racialism. James Mason, for example, much admired by Walsh, confesses that he left his parents’ house as a teenager. But he omits the reasons for his running away. No wonder that, after he abandoned his bulletin for would-be revolutionaries, he became engrossed in theological distractions (see my very brief post yesterday, that alludes to my piece ‘Dark Night of the Soul’). Without processing the pain of our childhoods or adolescence, we can lose our minds.

On Saturday, in the ‘Mr Darcy’ comment thread, I was talking about Prof Sam Vaknin. One of the things Lloyd deMause observed in his psychohistorical studies is that the most monstrous gods of the cultures of the historical past (e.g. the Aztecs) had to do with equally monstrous forms of ancient childrearing. I devote the central section of my book Day of Wrath to this topic. But if a casual visitor would only want to listen, in five minutes, to a presentation of this idea in a lecture to a Budapest audience, I would suggest listening to Vaknin for those five minutes from this point to minute 46.

At least Walsh accepted that his mother abused him long ago. That means his mind has redemption if he does introspective work in the years he will suffer in prison. On the other hand, what impresses me most about a couple of banned commenters, is that they have buried parental abuse to the degree that they lack proper empathy to the point that they can’t grasp why, for trolling our sites, they can be banned here and elsewhere.

Psychiatry Psychology

Unprocessed commenters

As you might have guessed from my post yesterday, ‘Mr Darcy’, that entry was an oblique reference to a commenter who, despite my warnings years ago, believed I had an obligation to answer all his questions.

Recently I’ve written here about other Englishmen I dealt with personally on my last trip to London, who this month were imprisoned in their country, basically for thoughtcrime. But I didn’t tell the whole story in the case of one of them, Tyrone Patten-Walsh, who used to comment here under the name Joseph Walsh.

In the middle of last year, Walsh posted a couple of comments on The Unz Review that are worth quoting. The abysmal difference between a person like me, who entered the racialist world after half a century of existence—having used decades of my life to process the trauma my parents caused when I was a teenager—, and those racialists who had a similar life but never processed their traumas, is discovered in these comments. Last year Walsh wrote:

I’m still here Cesar, still watching, still observing. My re-trial begins next Monday the 5th of June. Obviously I hope not to go to prison but I don’t care if I do. The media reported on my trial last summer here and here.

I took great joy in the prosecution terming me and my co-defendant “unapologetic white supremacists”. Actually I’m an Anglo-Saxon supremacist. German supremacism and Nordic supremacism are for those lower down the hierarchy of mankind.

I know if I go to prison I’ll likely be greeted by white cowards who’ll be taking a beating from their Black and Muslim superiors. Blacks and Muslims have racial pride and blend racial and religious pride with criminal activity and domination of prisons. White males in UK prisons seem to not be able to do this, predictably. In American prisons there IS a combination between White Supremacy and crime, fortunately. What seems the logical thing to do to me is to use the prison system as a foundation for dominating the streets. Use the most secure prisons as headquarters for dominating the prison system and then monopolize crime on the streets. But white cowards have long ago consented to their streets (and prisons) being controlled by Third World criminal gangs.

Never mind. The white race can go to hell for all I care. I’ve saved myself and that’s what matters. Even if the white race does survive, it’s apparent to me that humanity is going nowhere. We’re a hopeless species. A doomed species. There never was any hope for mankind. Never was, never will be. A silly planet full of silly people leading their silly lives. If only all of humanity could be put in prison to be ‘alone with their thoughts’ then I would feel Justice had been done.

Robert Morgan, another commenter on The Unz Review who, like Walsh, has also never processed his childhood trauma, replied to Walsh with these words:

All the best people go to prison—Socrates, Sade, Hitler. More recently, Joseph Paul Franklin, die Brüder Schweigen, Charles Manson, Ted Kaczynski, Anders Breivik, Brenton Tarrant, and many more, both famous and obscure. Just as steel is tempered to make a better weapon, men are put in prison in order to acquire the necessary hardness.

Morgan is confused: several on his list have little in common with each other. Walsh replied:

Yes. I’ve observed that some of the greatest men of the past one hundred years spent time in prison. I thought Charles Manson’s way of handling his virtually lifelong imprisonment was fantastic, especially his wise insights that “the way out is not through the gate”. I engage in regular correspondence with two former associates of Charles Manson, namely Nikolas Schreck and James Mason. Another one of my favourites was Barry Mills who rose to become the leader of the Aryan Brotherhood prison gang in the American prison system from the 1980s until his death. He ended up enjoying prison, deliberately committing crimes to get back into prison because he could thrive inside there as a highly respected kingpin of organized crime in America.

Ever since my late teenage years I’ve always been fascinated by prison, especially American prisons. I remember watching documentaries about white supremacist prison gangs and loving the ruthlessness of the environment. It’s not an accident that I’ve ended up in trouble with “the Law”. It fits right in with the bigger picture of my life’s destiny. Just under two years ago I and my co-defendant [Chris Gibbons] appeared before a judge at the Old Bailey court in London where William Joyce and John Amery were put on trial, essentially for being part of the same cause as Joyce and Amery, only eight decades further down the line. I’m aware of my individual place and purpose within the big picture of human history as a whole.

Walsh quoted Morgan again:

The torture of prison—the main point of it—is to expose you unremittingly to the depredations of your “fellow man”, and this would be defeated if everyone got his own cell.

And then responded:

I have an associate who spent some time in prisons here in England. He said “The people are the punishment. If you were in there on your own it wouldn’t be a punishment.”

As far as ‘punishment’, I’ve already suffered immensely since I was 17 when I was incarcerated in a mental institute for ‘mental illness’. I’ve spent a year of my life locked up for ‘insanity’ already. I’m used to suffering and I don’t expect mercy from life. Life shows little to no mercy to certain people. Consequently I have become merciless. In fact I’ve come to love the suffering and evil of this planet. As long as humans are suffering justice is being done, that’s what I say. From my teenage years I’ve been obsessed with Satan, Hitler, Charles Manson, Evil, crime, serial killers etc.

Here we see the great cognitive distortion in Walsh’s perspective. What he says sounds much more like ‘Hollywood Hitler’ than the historical Hitler whose biography we have begun to ponder, at a snail’s pace but I will try to ponder it through the book by another Englishman, Brendan Simms. Walsh continues:

If I do go to prison I imagine I should feel right at home. It’s part of being a revolutionary, an outlaw. When I was younger the British state termed my thoughts and words ‘insane’, now my words and thoughts are ‘illegal’ haha. I’ve been termed bipolar, schizoaffective, autistic, Asperger, a terrorist, far right etc. by the usual psychological ‘experts’. I’m sure you can imagine my life’s story Dr. Morgan. It’s the same story lived by thousands of other ‘dangerous males’ all across the West.

I’ll finish with an amusing anecdote. Ten years ago Carolyn Yeager interviewed Tom Metzger and Metzger was talking about the Jews’ collective will to power. Carolyn asked Metzger “Where’s our will to power?” and Metzger paused for a split second then said, “They’re all in prison”. Yeager was appalled by Terrible Tommy’s statement and said “Oh, come on.” I wouldn’t have expected her to understand but Metzger most certainly did lol.

Thanks for your [Morgan] words of support anyway.

All this stuff about Satan, Manson, serial killers and so on is nothing but extremely dense mental darkness: a ‘paleological’ way of dealing with trauma (see my book Day of Wrath).

One example will suffice. When I was in his flat in London, I realised that Walsh was suffering from akathisia because of the drug the pseudoscientific psychiatrists had prescribed for him. But Walsh apparently ignored my advice, even though he started watching a Robert Whitaker video about these drugs that I had recommended on YouTube. (Whitaker was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for a series of articles questioning the ethics of psychiatric research.) Despite my offering to advise him on psychiatry and family trauma, Walsh went his own way: a way that we might call, as Krist Krusher does, the way of the ‘Siege-tards’ in reference to James Mason’s Siege (see Krusher’s indented quote in this post).

In July 2019 I tried to communicate these ideas to Walsh. But he got angry calling me a mongrel, etc., instead of answering my simple question: Is Charles Manson good for Hitler’s 88 words?

What to think of the Walsh case and others like him? One thing is certain: It is not possible to save the white race from an insane asylum or prison. It’s a shame that when WordPress Inc., cancelled my The West’s Darkest Hour account it was very difficult to retrieve articles and comments; and a heated discussion from a January 2019 post in the old incarnation of this site—a discussion about Charles Manson precisely—didn’t make it in the move to this new incarnation. But it is clear from what is linked above that Walsh didn’t attempt, in July of that same year, to answer my question: in what sense was Charles Manson useful to the fourteen words?

Unlike an internally processed man like me, who no longer suffers from any neurosis (let alone psychosis!), three smart commenters on that January 2019 thread, including Walsh, suffered psychic breakdowns in admiring this prisoner who has nothing to do with Hitler’s ideals.

Hopefully, Walsh will use his next seven years in prison to heal his troubled soul like Solzhenitsyn, instead of going the way of the Siege-tards. I have a hunch that Chris Gibbons, the other Englishman I met in London who got one more year in prison than Walsh, also for thoughtcrime, will have a better chance of processing his soul as Solzhenitsyn did.

Pride & Prejudice

Mr Darcy


‘My good opinion once is lost, it’s lost forever’

I feel I should add something to what I said on Tuesday in the post ‘Empathy’, which must be read to understand the present entry. Studying a case, as in my diaries I did with the former chess friend who suffers from such extreme narcissism that he became friendless, and studying the mad West that wants to ethno-suicide itself, are two sides of the same coin: biography and history.

Given that the spirit of Europe in general and Germany in particular was crushed by the Anglo-Americans after World War II, and that because of these Anglo-Americans the Jews were astronomically empowered, it irritates me that the most lucid minds on the trauma model of mental disorders that I have come across are Jewish. For example, in my books, I mention a lot Swiss Alice Miller and the Italian-American Silvano Arieti. If Hitler had won the war, the psychologists who would have made the findings that Arieti and Miller eventually did would have been Aryans.

This morning I watched this interview of a woman with an Israeli émigré to Europe, Sam Vaknin, and I was struck that what the Israeli says is almost a carbon copy of what, in my copious diaries, I have written about the chess player who, after decades of not dealing with him, I visited only once at his home. From that video and many others that can be seen on YouTube, one can guess that narcissism is a pattern of behaviour that is beginning to be analysed in social media, although Vaknin wrote an academic book on the subject.

Despite being a Jew, for those interested in how a mother without ‘psychological childbirth’ can spoil her child in such a way as to prevent the normal process of individuation as a grown-up, so that the ‘narcissist’ is emotionally left with the mind of a two-year-old, the above-linked interview is worth watching. But I reiterate that I would have loved for the good guys to have won WW2 so that all these findings would have been popularised from Aryan, not Jewish, research.

The findings of Arieti, Miller and now this guy, Vaknin, are valid regardless of the ethnic group they belong to, just as John von Neumann was an outstanding scientist in another area, computer science. It was because of Neumann, by the way, that many years ago I learned that chess was not a game, but a special form of computation.

What’s this all about?

In the past, a banned commenter kept posting comments that went right to the spam filter and even kept sending me emails. I didn’t even read them. As Mr Darcy said in Pride & Prejudice, once a person lets him down, that person will let him down forever as Mr Darcy never gave a second chance.

I don’t give a second chance either because life is short, and The West’s Darkest Hour is not a forum for people like the former chess friend or others like him. If, unlike Vaknin, they don’t want to do psychological healing work, that’s their problem. And I don’t mean going to a psychiatrist or a clinical psychologist (they’ll never help you!), but to do some soul-searching; to remember how the devouring mother didn’t let us grow up, and to write down every painful anecdote of our childhood, puberty and adolescence.

Generally, people damaged by their parents don’t do this work, so once such a person disappoints me, like Mr Darcy I walk away from him or her forever. I did that not only with the former chess friend I cut off last month but also with people I have met through the internet.