I was accused recently of being a Neo-Reactionary who wishes only to debate the existence of the fairy atop the pinhead as opposed to anything constructive. The untruth of the first part of the accusation aside, the importance of thinking lies in its intended direction. We in the West are in an incredibly dire situation, and that isn’t anything to do with Niggers or Pakis — in fact, the only reason these entities are seen as a problem is because their existence within the West is facilitated and encouraged by ideology. Our sickness comes from within, not without. It isn’t the Jews who convinced kings of ages past to accept usury — kings are not without agency. It isn’t women who’re convincing the B.B.C. to feature them in every damned drama series — the B.B.C. is asking them to appear. Pornographers aren’t violently forcing the girls as young as eighteen who partake in interracial orgies to do so — the fathers of the girls are either inept or absent. Every problem we have in our societies, in Europe, America, Britain or the broader West, began within. They began with the collapse of interior form and morality.
Removing Kebab and Kippah is well and good, but ultimately you should remove what put them there in the first place. Attack the cause, not the symptom. Thus, the enemy is ideological, and ideology is found manifest within peoples, cultures and institutions. It isn’t any wonder that it took progressives (or whatever you want to call them) about six-hundred years to get to where they are now starting, to pick a common reference point (one of many), with the rise of the third estate at the end of the Middle Ages.
Something which amused me recently was when someone said that the only way to return to Tradition is by violent revolution.
“Good grief,” I thought to myself, “shall we reinstate use of the guillotine?”
In any case, fighting modernity with modernity isn’t going to get you anywhere. If you do nothing but remove nonwhites from Europe you’ll be back to square one within no time at all. No, it isn’t extreme enough, you accursed liberal nonces. Anthropocentrism is anthropocentrism. Nationalism as a political system emerged with the French Revolution in juxtaposition to monarchism, to Tradition. It is improper to base the social order upon demos.
Disloyalty to family, to thede, is immoral. Traditionally, man was loyal to family and king, and the race question sorted itself out just fine. I aim to be loyal to my white, English family, thus racemixing or supporting the interests of foreigners over that of my family is immoral. One can be pro-ingroup without being a nationalist. Of course, most people use “nationalism” as a synonym for “patriotism” — and that isn’t a problem in and of itself; but let’s not be under any illusions: the white race is no good if it’s a race of sinners. Once you reinstate proper morality upon the self, upon the family, upon the community and upon the society as a whole, things will sort themselves out, demographically-speaking.
Focusing just upon the “biology” is to put the cart before the horse. Racial purity is firstly a consequence, secondly a cause. Without entering a “chicken and the egg” scenario, of course, healthy social traditions when confined to one group will carry-forth with the physical offspring of said group, but it’s morality which safeguards this. A parallel idea is found within marriage as a contract — a socio-cultural-religious contract — to safeguard and formalise within a prior structure the act and process of procreation and childrearing because, as the proper notion goes, the family unit is the building-block of civilisation, not the individual and their “rights.” The power of the family is carried within the dignity of the father-figure as microcosm of king or emperor or god: “The father is the household’s fire” so says The Laws of Manu (2.231).
The pater‘s [father’s] main responsibility was to prevent the “fire from going out” so that it might continue to reproduce, perpetuate, and nourish the mystical victory of the ancestor; this responsibility to the fire was the manifestation of the “regal” component of the family, with the pater being the “lord of the spear and the sacrifice.” In this way the pater really constituted the center of the family; the entire rigorous constitution of traditional paternal rights flowed from this center as a natural consequence, and it subsisted even when the awareness of its primordial foundation was lost. ~ Julius Evola, Revolt Against the Modern World, pg. 39
The materialism which permeates the modern mind undoubtedly seeps-into the so-called Right where it must be scourged with the cleanest fires of radiance. We should organise henceforth an international “smack a modern Rightist day” where we purge the modern filth from our would-be-brothers’ minds. Such folly as “individualism,” “positivism,” “progressivism,” “materialism,” and other such manifestations of evil should be cut-away with the most ugly and blunt blades if need be.
In antiquity what united the members of a family was something more powerful than birth, feelings and physical strength: it was the cult of the hearth and of the ancestors. This cult shaped the family into a united body, both in this world and in the next. The ancient family was more a religious than a natural association. ~ Numa Denis Fustel de Coulanges, The Ancient City, pg. 105
This all relates to thoughts I’ve been having recently. Being without a leader myself has led to all sorts of nonsense growing-up; total and complete interior formlessness which has only begun to be remedied within the past two to three years starting with a total break from the world, as it were, following secondary school which afforded me time to contemplate my life — something ongoing, mind you; it doesn’t stop. Daily there are pangs of extinctive gravity which look to me as I turn to them. And then I turn away, but they linger. Like a festering wound left untreated this incompleteness pushes me under and stings as a nail thrust-through my one hand. But there is no guide; only rust.
Sadly, though, moments of ecstasy are rare. Most human-beings are on a treadmill of sorrow. They know they’re going to die, and they have repressed it. They have not taken responsibility for it. They have not realised the truth. They have not understood that men are born screaming; and when they stop; they die. ~ Jonathan Bowden
I’m tempted now to leave this piece in poetic cadence but it seems inappropriate. Should I diverge into pseudo-Nietzschean table-turning? Need I? “Seek truth and beauty together; you will never find them apart,” so said Pythagoras. Anyways, Bowden has sated the former sentiment. Those damn intellectuals — who do they think they are? With their books and thinking about things before doing them — I bet behind each and every one of them there’s a Jew.
Speaking of his exit of the British National Party, Jonathan was “sick and tired of the human scum and vermin that proliferate in such shallow waters.” Further, he “[did] not wish to associate with such low grade lycanthropes and psychotic criminals.” One can’t help — especially if one is sensitive to external stimuli as a means of the subconscious search for leadership-figures [projection intensifies] — to see such views able to be mirrored in the contemporary internet setting upon which we writhe. However, we must take comfort in the higher tiers above the meddling of angry young men and their handlers.
He again has words to speak, and so we shall listen:
Politics is just a side-line, you see; artistic activity is what really matters. The one alters effects; the other changes the world. As Bill Hopkins once told me, one man sat writing alone in a room can alter the entire cosmos. It’s the ability — through a type-writer or whatever else — to radically transform the consciousness of one’s time. Cultural struggle is the most interesting diversion of all. There’s a Lancastrian truism that my mother retailed to me: “truth is a knife passing through meat.” Well, in this particular freeway one special coda stands out — you must become your own comet streaking across the heavens; all else is just a matter of flame, spent filament, rock or tissue, en passant, which slopes off to the side. Avoid those stray meteor shoals casting off to one’s left; they are just the abandoned waifs and strays of a spent becoming. Let your life resemble a bullet passing through screens: everything extraneous to one’s task recalls such osmotic filters.