Recognizing the truth of one key Reactionary observation concerning the Modern World, that of definite, observable entropy, we are consigned by our political knowledge to an inescapable resignation. It is not a surrender, for that would indicate a relinquishing of our resistance, principles, and ultimately our souls. The kind of ‘resignation’ we observe is an acceptance of our enemy’s insurmountable predominance in lieu of the present circumstances, rather than a true end to hostilities. It is to acknowledge that conditions as they are make our victory completely impossible. There will be no revolution, there will be no coups d’état, nor will the current society ‘evolve’ and slip back into an ordered structure. Deviations from the organic state of man cannot be redeemed with coaxing, but have to be smashed against the cliff face of reality.
There is a phrase that describes one attitude to such an acceptance: “enjoy the decline”. We do not try to conserve the current society, the trinkets of our bygone eras which still stand as ignored ornaments today among the rubble. It cannot be conserved, and it cannot be saved. No amount of digging our heels into the riverbed will stop us being carried to its eventual mouth. This said, I find it difficult to see how such a process can be enjoyed. It puts us in a constant state of discomfort and such is the reason we are aware of what is going on. If Modernity didn’t chafe us so, we would be Modernists.
The attitude to have is one of a heroic fatalism, a marriage of two concepts that at first seem antonymous. For our society we expect only death. For ourselves we expect only death. But for Tradition, we know that life will soon spring anew and the organic currents of this world will push their way to the surface, humming with life. This is what we dedicate ourselves to, a Reaction that sees the battle already won, not for us, but for our cause. Until we have succeeded in bringing about that which we desire, that which is holy and good, the Reaction does not falter, for it is not ordained to, our spirits forbid capitulation and thus serve the inevitability of our triumph. The Reaction rages on and on.
Our aim is not to bring our enemy down, for it is by his own actions that he will ultimately fall. Our aim is to anticipate his fall, and to have prepared an unconquerable force with one guiding purpose, to achieve palaces from ruins, glory from desolation, and diamonds from coal.
It should be stressed that our hate for the enemy knows no bounds. We are justified in our attacks upon him by this alone, but such attacks always have our primary directive in mind. The Reactionary is perhaps the only political agent who wages war not to defeat the enemy, but to make himself worthy of succeeding the enemy. There is something to be gained by keeping our spirits up, but I contend that any joviality that we can justifiably lift from the present condition of human civilization is taken from the absurdity and comic tragedy of our enemy, not the slow and agonizing death that we have been put through and must now somehow enjoy as if we have embraced a kind of contagious madness. To enjoy such a thing seems impossible, for as individuals, it has robbed us of the lives we should have had, that which our now distant ancestors experienced. Modernity is like a grand thief in the night, and we its arisen victims, are subsequently constant harriers.
Everyone, and I mean everyone, should head over to Soul of the East and check out their article on René Guénon’s attitude towards the end of the cycle, penned by Branko Malic. Some choice quotes:
“When subversion reaches the lowest point, releasing, quite literary, hell on earth, things immediately have nowhere else to go but upwards. Once the lie is absolutely realized, the ground falls out from under it – it can exist only as a parasite on the body of truth.”
“Once the luminaries of progress unmask themselves, they can’t help but show what they truly are: a tedious bunch with sinister intent, naked for everyone to see, including themselves.”
“So, if we are living out the great End, let’s give it a defiant laugh. For as civilization accelerates into freefall and panic – generally masked as euphoria, just as the freefall is masked as progress –one cannot help but notice how progressively surreal and unavoidably funny it all becomes. So, why not mock the great mockery until it dissolves into nothing from which it came? Come to think of it, when all is said and done, there is not much else left to do besides repentance. The world won’t be redeemed by laughing at its tail-spinning counterfeit, but it’s a step in the right direction.”
There is a peculiar comedy to the enemy’s self-destruction, which somehow manages to sit aloft with his abominable evil in the face of which we are correctly nauseated. The ever-increasing entropy of our society makes for ever-more inane contradictions, self-parodies, and farcical stereotypes. Why might these bring us joy? Because they are like the scent of death from the opposing side of the battlefield, and now we know the torturers of man gasp their last. The decline carries us all with it, but our enemy’s death is theirs and theirs alone. To this we are only interested observers captivated by a spectacle, a pantomime. It is this which might bring us crude joy in the closing edge of the Iron Age.
This is a relatively short piece, but I still think it’s an important one. We do not enjoy the decline. We do not go gently into this good night with the rest of the world, but instead we go with defiant laughs, and on our lips a promise to our drowning enemies: “Our torch outlives us! Yours is extinguished here and now! Kill us, persecute us, silence us, do what you will while you can, but know that you have become naught but a cruel joke, and what remains of mankind, within only a few generations, will never even know your ideals existed.”
In the end, it is our clear vision and knowledge which brings us pain where others feel blissful nothing. We can see the devil. The rest of the world is oblivious. What better thing then to take our minds off the decay around us, than to ridicule the suicide of Liberalism, to skewer with tact every misstep it makes towards the grave? There is a difference between what we will ourselves to outwardly project and what we are compelled to feel inside, but the two are complementary. We despise the decline, it being unnecessary and destructive to an incalculable point, and consequently we find satisfaction in the downfall of its architects.