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Category: politics

Neoreaction: is it for real? Part 3: Removing the Nietzschean Veil

The Great Chain of Being. Drawing from Diego Valadés’s Rhetorica Christiana (1579).

In my last two posts I detailed my objections to the influence of Right Nietzscheanism in neoreaction and reaction in general, but lest anyone think I have nothing to offer beyond criticism, in this post I will clearly state what I believe should be a core principle of neoreaction or any conservative or reactionary movement. More specifically, I will address the concept of hierarchy since it seems to me that it is crucial to neoreactionary theory and relevant to the issue of the structuring of neoreaction as a whole.

Before continuing, I must note that I am aware that neoreactionaries differentiate between neoreaction and reaction, or NRx and Rx. What I am advocating is not simple Rx. In fact, I’m not sure that Rx can possibly exist, since all of us living today (and many generations past) were born and baptized into modernity. All Rx is NRx to some extent. However, the “neo” prefix need not carry Nietzschean connotations. T.E. Hulme is my ideal neoreactionary because although he embraced the twentieth century and its technological innovations, he was comfortable discarding much of the philosophical baggage of modernity. He and the modernist artists he associated with (Henri Gaudier-Brzeska, Wyndham Lewis, and Ezra Pound) sought in their different ways to revive reactionary classicism in thoroughly modern cultural environments. The past was turned into a radical force by being thrust into the future.

As my last two posts would suggest, I believe that hierarchies must be based upon absolute values that transcend history, rather than the relative, terminally historicized values of Nietzsche’s hierarchies of power. Now, conservatives of all stripes talk about absolute values, but many forget to mention what these values are. Here, I will abandon caution and humility and venture a dogmatic assertion that will allow us to determine the absolute values that inform the structure of all true hierarchies. This assertion is not merely an idea; it is a truth.

My dogmatic assertion, which has been made countless times by countless others before, is this: all things can be classified and ranked on a scale of value that ascends from the material to the immaterial.

The vision of the universe thus revealed is traditionally referred to as ‘the Great Chain of Being” (see Note 1). All attempts to subvert or distort this truth, which is the basis of right order, have led to error or disaster.

At the top of the great chain of being is God, Whose essence is His existence. Beneath Him are His creations, which stand in analogical relation to Him. In descending order, these creations are angels, man, animals, plants, and inanimate objects. This Great Chain of Being, properly conceived, is the basis for all truly hierarchical thinking, the ultimate expression of which is Christian orthodoxy.

I can’t stress enough that in this hierarchy, as in all true hierarchies, the ranks do not stand in opposition to each other. True hierarchies are always harmonious and inclusive rather than oppressive and exclusionary. In a true hierarchy, there’s a place for everyone. What could be more inclusive than that?

Hierarchical thinking bears little relation to oppositional or dialectical thinking, the classic representation of which is Hegel’s master/slave dialectic, which is echoed in Nietzsche’s master morality and slave morality. Indeed, it is not hierarchical thinking that led to the much-maligned “binary oppositions” or “Manichean dichotomies” that have supposedly plagued Western thought (according to the Left). The Manichean dichotomy (if we are to assume that the term “Manichean” has been chosen for a reason) is a product not of orthodox Christianity but of a long tradition of heretical movements like Gnosticism, Catharism, and any number of modern political religions (see the work of Eric Voegelin for more on this). In recent times, it has been inclusive, supposedly pluralist, non-hierarchical thinking that has led to such great divides. You are either part of the inclusive, pluralistic system or you are a bigot, fascist, fundamentalist or Nazi.

Hierarchical thinking is analogical rather than dialectical (see Note 2). All members of a hierarchy are joined in a relationship of ‘likeness.’ Even the lowest member of the hierarchy bears some resemblance to the highest. Modern thought, by contrast, is based upon relationships of difference and opposition (and the overcoming of such differences and oppositions). This may seem contrary to common sense—surely hierarchical thinking is based on difference! However, difference is essential to the structure of any hierarchy only because likeness is impossible without some amount of difference. Much modern thought simply ignores analogical relationships and focuses only on difference, conceptualizing human roles and identities as existing within systems of difference. For the modern progressive, difference is opposition and reflects an inequality of power; it is something to be overcome. The Nietzschean radical takes things further, affirming boundless plurality and the endless play of difference. Have you ever wondered how the political left keeps finding new forms of inequality to campaign against? Their crusade will never end, for they know that any relationship of difference can be reconceptualized as an oppositional relationship reflecting a power imbalance.

The hierarchical order of the Great Chain of Being can be used to establish a hierarchy of areas of human inquiry and endeavor. I would order these areas of inquiry and endeavor as follows:

Theology/Religion
Philosophy
Politics
Culture/Tradition
Economics
Natural Science

The hierarchy descends from areas that are of greater ultimate importance in human life to those that are of greater immediate or practical importance. Most modern heresies take something belonging to the lower ranks and place it on the top (here, I know, I am echoing G.K. Chesterton and especially his books Heretics and Orthodoxy): with nationalism it was Culture/Tradition, with Marxism it was economics, and with Nazism it was natural science (in the form of biological racism).

When I survey the sphere of neoreaction, I see a chaos of influences derived from other movements: Human Biodiversity (HBD), political and economic libertarianism, reactionary traditionalism (such as the European New Right and neo-paganism), and reactionary religious orthodoxy (primarily the various bloggers of the Orthosphere). All of these disparate influences collide, and the only thing holding them together within sphere of neoreaction is the toxic (and intoxicating) glue of Nietzschean philosophy.

I pray that neoreaction, if it evolves and doesn’t fizzle out into irrelevance, will turn to the Great Chain of Being as a guide for the organization not only of the priorities of neoreaction but of its relation to the various other movements in its orbit. The Human Biodiversity (HBD) has much to say that is interesting and useful, but considerations of race and biology should, as I see it, occupy a lower sphere of neoreactionary inquiry and activism. I am not naive enough to think that race is irrelevant as a determinant of human behaviour, but we have seen what happens when race is raised above politics, philosophy, and religion. Economic theories (like Social Credit) have been a feature of reactionary thought for a long time, but when economic solutions are seen as the only solution, you get Ezra Pound, who wasted so much of his mental energy on the problem of money. The reactionary traditionalists have a point to make (and I know there is some controversy as to whether traditionalists are NRx at all, as this concise article by Henry Dampier makes clear), but unless traditions point to transcendent truths, the deification of tradition can only lead to Nietzschean relativism at best. Likewise, a purely political form of neoreaction, which seems to be Moldbug’s ideal, will founder as soon as it sets sail on its own. Neoreaction needs a theological crown, and for that it should turn to the denizens of the Orthosphere, who are producing the most exciting and intelligent material that I have come across in contemporary reactionary circles. All of these influences are worthy of attention, but not of equal attention; neoreaction must establish priorities based upon the hierarchical structure of the universe itself.

A movement that champions the merits of hierarchical relationships will get nowhere if its adherents relate to each other like members of an anarchist collective. Perhaps, though, neoreaction is still in its infancy, and a natural NRx hierarchy will develop over time. I’ll keep watching.

As I am finishing this last post on neoreaction (for now) my conscience is telling me that I may have been a bit hard on Nietzsche. He was a genius, and although his ideas have caused much evil they may also have produced some good. The embrace of Nietzcheanism is perhaps, for some, a necessary step in breaking the spell of naive progressivism–as I think it was for me. Nietzsche’s thought can strip one of many illusions, even if it does not, ultimately, provide an escape from the Matrix of modernity. It is only after removing the Nietzschean veil, through which all things are seen as blurry manifestations of ‘power’ or ‘energy,’ that one can finally see the world as it is and has always been.

Note 1: Arthur O. Lovejoy’s The Great Chain of Being (1936) is a classic study of this concept, but Lovejoy, in modern fashion, treats it as a mere idea that has taken different forms over time (making it part of the “history of ideas”). His treatment of the Medieval conception of the Great Chain of Being distorts the idea, leading him to identify contradictions where there are none.

Note 2: The distinction between analogical and dialectical thinking is apparently the theme of David Tracy’s highly-regarded theological work The Analogical Imagination (1981). It is on my reading list.

Neoreaction: is it for real? Part 2

T.E. Hulme in uniform.

In my last post I outlined some reasons for my interest in the phenomenon of neoreaction, along with my concerns regarding its philosophical trajectory. My message to the neoreactionaries, if they care to listen, is that if neoreaction is to be anything more than a virtual pose, it must purge itself of Nietzschean influence. When I recently tweeted this statement, I received a small chorus of tweets in response asking “Why?” In this post, I will expand on the answer to that question that I outlined in my last post and save my suggestions regarding the reorganization of neoreaction for my next post.

To provide some counterbalance to any harshness in my criticism, I will state at the outset that I am a former fan of Nietzsche. I understand the tremendous appeal of his work, and I still consider him one of the greatest thinkers in the history of philosophy. If I were not a Catholic, I would probably still be a Nietzschean. Nietzsche was not at all stupid, but simply wrong, and his enchanting philosophy of ‘life’ unfortunately helped to create our current ‘culture of death.’

Nietzsche has been interpreted in a variety of ways, but these interpretations can be distilled into what I would loosely label Right Nietzscheanism and Left Nietzscheanism. Both of these philosophies of culture situate Nietzsche as the philosopher who revealed the ultimate arbitrariness of conventional morality, who saw the will to power as the fundamental force in human life, and who positioned himself as the enemy of post-Socratic metaphysics, Christianity, and even the concept of truth itself.

Right Nietzscheans generally seek to reclaim the “master morality” that existed (arguably) in paganism until the rise of the “slave morality” of Christianity. There are even some who practice a sort of Nietzschean Catholicism, re-envisioning the Church (while drawing more upon its institutional authority and hierarchical structure than its teachings) as the embodiment of a Christian version of master morality. The more moderate Right Nietzscheans may seek a master morality in national traditions—those that have grown organically over time and are not contaminated by abstract morality.

A member of the neoreaction twittersphere suggested that I check out a transcript of a 2007 talk by Jonathan Bowden, which is available on Counter-Currents Publishing site as “Credo: A Nietzschean Testament.” It is a perfect example of Right Nietzscheanism.

Bowden says, “I believe that strength comes from belief, in things which are philosophically grounded and appear real to you.” In other words, belief functions as an expression of the will to power, as long as the things that you believe in “appear real to you” (italics mine). The belief may be completely unfounded, but that is beside the point; what you believe in must appear real, and you must believe as if it were real. Bowden’s valorization of Charles Maurras clearly displays this emphasis on belief over truth: “Charles Maurras was believed to be an atheist, but he led a Catholic fundamentalist movement in France. Why? Because if you are right-wing, you don’t want to tear civilization down just because you privately can’t believe. You understand the discourse of mass social becoming.” A Maurrasian Catholic accepts Catholicism not because the Catholic Church is the one true church but because the church performs a social function that keeps the population from dissolving into apathy and vice. Such a person, in my estimation, is not a Catholic at all.

Bowden seems to condemn relativism when he says that “Belief is an understanding that there are truths outside nature, and outside the contingent universe that’s in front of us, that are absolute. The left-wing view that it’s all relative, or we make it up as we go along, is false.” Bowden’s statement is deceiving, however, since the view of the New Right is ultimately just as relativistic as that of the left. There is only one absolute truth for Bowden (and Nietzsche) outside the contingent universe: the will to power. Other truths are only truths as long as they can be imposed and believed in, and if the will to believe dies, the truth dies with it. Later, Bowden seems to acknowledge the connection between modern relativism and his own neo-fascism: “So what appears with half an eye closed to be an atheistic, a secular, and a modern system, if you switch around and look at it from another perspective, is actually a form for traditional ideas of the most radical, the most far-reaching, the most reactionary, and most archaic and primordial sort to come back. To come back from the past.” The problem is that these archaic ideas from the past, reconstituted through the will to power, will not be quite the same as they were before. Like the reanimated beings that rise from Stephen King’s Pet Cemetery, they will be a little different, and a little unstable, with a tendency to turn against their owners.

Bowden exemplifies Right Nietzscheanism. Left Nietzscheans are, on a superficial level, very different; they view culture as a complex web of power relations—relations that pervade even the realms of language and knowledge. Following from Nietzsche’s The Genealogy of Morals, they see all social norms and the conceptions of truth that underlie them as arbitrary constructions. The French philosopher Michel Foucault, whose influence in academia (one of the great spires of the Cathedral) cannot be exaggerated, was the great proponent of this worldview. Much of the scholarship of the last thirty years in fields like art history, English, film studies, women’s studies, queer studies, post-colonial studies and the like has been influenced by his interpretation of Nietzsche, and much of it leans towards what is sometimes referred to as “social constructionism,” or the idea that our identities and beliefs are social constructs without essences. A recent manifestation of this type of thinking has been the study of the social construction of gender: if gender is a social construct, then obviously the stark male/female dichotomy can be broken down.

While Foucault’s philosophy in its rawest form is not explicitly political (since in a Nietzschean world without moral absolutes there is no reason to prefer one political system over another), it is often employed by those pursuing egalitarian or liberationist political projects. As a sort of Nietzschean progressivism it has trickled down to the rest of the population and as a result we get Oprah and Ellen spreading the gospel of empowerment. They are empowering women, queer people, coloured people, or anyone else who has ever been marginalized in the past. And of course they must do this by funneling power from those who are male, straight, white and ‘privileged.’ Thus, the source of value for both those in both the ivory towers of the Cathedral and its daily talk shows is the same as that for the barbarians at the gate. Relativism makes strange bedfellows.

To summarize, Nietzsche’s philosophy allows us to both recognize all the moral regimes of history as arbitrary constructions (the practice of Left Nietzscheanism) and reconstruct any moral regime of the past by replacing what were considered absolute and unchanging values with power-values (which is the practice of Right Nietzscheanism). When an older moral regime is reconstructed, the reconstruction will be different from the original in that those living under the original regime viewed its structure as something ‘given’—something rooted in truth or nature or the will of God—while those living under the reconstruction can never achieve that same level of naiveté. The inhabitants of the reconstruction must always struggle to believe, even when they know, on some level, that the principles that guide them are rootless. Such is the difference between a Norse pagan of the ninth century and the twenty-first century neo-pagan. Does the latter really believe that Thor and Odin exist?

Both the Left Nietzschean and the Right Nietzschean are lost in the void of modernity, their only guide being the one, endlessly malleable, source of value that Nietzsche recognized: the will to power.

A note for clarification, from a discussion regarding this post at Throne and Altar (3 February 2015): I did not mean to suggest that there is no distinction between neoreaction and Bowden’s neo-fascist neo-paganism. Bowden is from the sphere of the European New Right, and I used him as an example of Right Nietzscheanism in its clearest and most recognizable form. Neoreaction does not always explicitly draw from Nietzsche, and I know that neoreactionaries do not embrace neo-paganism, but it seems to me that neoreaction is about what I would call the science of power. All of the various political alternatives to democracy that they toss about are judged in terms of their effectiveness, and not their rightness. In some ways, the neoreactionaries are more like the Left Nietzscheans (Foucault and co.), in that they are obsessed with power structures, as if power is the only currency. They are reading politics through the eyes of Nietzsche. Even the libertarian tendencies in neoreaction seem loosely connected to Ayn Rand’s interpretation of Nietzsche.

To provide an antidote to all this stifling Nietzscheanism, I will briefly introduce a thinker whose photo graces this site: the amateur philosopher T.E. Hulme (1883-1917). I have not seen Hulme’s name mentioned in NRx circles, which is a shame, because in his time he was a true neo-reactionary. His life was cut short by enemy artillery in World War I, but he managed to have a lasting influence on modernist artists and writers like T.S. Eliot, Wyndham Lewis and (to a lesser extent) Ezra Pound.

Hulme’s form of reaction was ‘classical’ rather than ‘romantic,’ privileging clear ideas over vague mysticism. He believed strongly in the idea of original sin and rejected the humanist idea that people are naturally good. He sought absolute values: those which are as true today as they were 1000 years ago. Here is Hulme describing his brand of reaction in relation to what I have referred to above as Right Nietzscheanism:

“Most people have been in the habit of associating these kinds of views with Nietzsche. It is true that they do occur in him, but he made them so frightfully vulgar that no classic would acknowledge them. In him you have the spectacle of a romantic seizing on the classic point of view because it attracted him purely as a theory, and who, being a romantic, in taking up this theory, passed his slimy fingers over every detail of it. Everything loses its value. The same idea of the necessary hierarchy of classes, with their varying capacities and duties, gets turned into the romantic nonsense of the two kinds of morality, the slave and the master morality, and every other element of the classic position gets transmuted in a similar way into something ridiculous.”

This passage is from Hulme’s seminal essay “A Tory Philosophy,” but I have quoted it from a review in the New Criterion by Roger Kimball, which incidentally serves as a decent introduction to Hulme. (If I can find my copy of “A Tory Philosophy” I will provide a proper citation.)

Here is Hulme describing his position regarding religion:

“I want to emphasize as clearly as I can, that I attach very little value indeed to the sentiments attaching to the religious attitude. I hold, quite coldly and intellectually as it were, that the way of thinking about the world and man, the conception of sin, and the categories which ultimately make up the religious attitude, are the true categories and the right way of thinking. . . . It is not, then, that I put up with the dogma for the sake of the sentiment, but that I may possibly swallow the sentiment for the sake of the dogma” (Hulme 70-71).

Dogma is superior to sentiment, and truth superior to tradition—this is the core of Hulme’s message. Hulme’s innovation was to free reactionary thinking from the romanticism and historicism of the nineteenth century, and the new paths he revealed have not yet been fully explored.

In my next post I will offer suggestions for a reorganization of neoreaction in the spirit of Hulme.

Hulme text cited:
Hulme, T.E. “Humanism and the Religious Attitude.” Speculations. Ed. Herbert Read. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1960. 1-71.

Neoreaction: is it for real? Part I

Nietzsche in uniform.

My posts on this blog are few and far between, mainly due to time constraints. I wish I had more time to blog, and I also wish I had more time to read the blogs of others. Lately, though, I’ve managed to squeeze in some blog surfing time in order to further explore the “neoreactionary” community and the other blogging communities in its orbit.

Although I don’t agree with everything I read from the neoreactionary community, it is exhilarating to come across a group of people with ideas similar to my own, engaged in what I consider to be productive discussion. I admire their non-academic intellectualism, as I think it allows for much greater diversity of thought than mainstream academic discourse.

The neoreactionaries are not afraid of reasoned discussion and debate, but they do not write in an academic style or make use of the fashionable keywords of academic discourse; instead, they write informally and create their own neologisms. They are largely removed from the mainstream of academic books and journals (although I believe a small number may be professors or students), but at the same time they conduct real research, in some cases digging up long-forgotten reactionary literature that is relevant to our contemporary situation. My only concern in this regard is that while neologisms and informal language allow writers to grasp at new ideas, they also make it difficult for writers to determine if what they are saying has been said before, or if they are blurring ideas that should be distinct. In one important respect, which I will examine here, such aversion to pre-existing analytical frameworks may lead neoreaction into error.

My concerns follow from the question in the title of this post: is neoreaction for real? As to whether neoreaction is serious or just a virtual pose, I expect it’s somewhere in-between, but I assume that we are not dealing with satire, and that the neoreactionaries stand behind at least some of their ideas. Whether they would maintain them under the pressures of failure, ridicule, blacklisting or worse, I don’t know, but I don’t know if I could handle such pressures either, which is why my blog is anonymous for now. However, when I ask if neoreaction is for real, this is not exactly what I mean. To explain what I mean, I will first highlight a key characteristic of neoreaction in its treatment of the history of reactionary thought.

Mencius Moldbug is widely considered a seminal neoreactionary blogger, and I have given some of his work a close read. Moldbug’s writing is compelling in the way it balances humour, criticism and historical insight, and his approach to cultural critique is what I would call a form of reactionary historicism.

A historicist approach to history is one that prioritizes historical context. Thus, to understand a particular historical event, one must understand the event from the perspective of those living at that historical moment and in that cultural context. The historian must, at least temporarily, suspend judgement and artificially limit his historical horizon. Historicism is part of the fabric of modern intellectual life: most of us can appreciate the scientific genius of Ptolemy if we place his geocentric astronomy in its historical and cultural context; few would call him stupid for not knowing that the earth revolves around the sun.

Moldbug’s “red pill” prescription is a strong dose of history from the perspective of those considered the “bad guys” in the liberal historical narrative. His focus is American history, but any historical conflict can be analyzed using his technique, which I would describe as follows: using primary sources, conduct research into those historical agents commonly deemed to be on the wrong side of history, and determine if these agents were really as misguided, prejudiced, or evil as they are portrayed to be. Usually it turns out that they were not.

Generally speaking, I am a fan of Moldbug’s approach. Books like William Thomas Walsh’s Characters of the Inquisition or A.J.P. Taylor’s The Origins of the Second World War are examples of excellent red pill books, and list goes on. However, Moldbug’s historicism provides only a temporary antidote to the poison that traps people in the liberal Matrix. It does not provide a cure.

If Moldbug practises a form of reactionary historicism, his enemy, the “Cathedral,” is a tangible manifestation of the progressive historicism that still guides American politics and public policy. I should note that the progressive historicism of today is far removed from the more naive progressive historicism of the nineteenth century. Still, America and the West in general has not been able to shake the idea that history unfolds according to a process that will ultimately lead to universal freedom and wisdom. Black presidents, gay marriage, greater reproductive freedom, popes that are cool with atheists: these are all signs of progress! Of course, the question arises: progress toward what? Today the answer seems to be universal social inclusivity. Human differences of all kinds must be acknowledged and accepted. The philosopher/bureaucrat/possible Soviet agent Alexandre Kojève described the mechanics of the logic of inclusivity (or “recognition,” as seen from a Marxist-Hegelian perspective) as leading to a “universal and homogenous state,” in which all the great social conflicts of history will ultimately resolve. The Canadian conservative philosopher George Grant, following from Leo Strauss, saw this universal and homogenous state as the dwelling place of Nietzsche’s “last man”–the neutered, self-satisfied shell of mankind (think, for example, the Obamacare Pyjama Boy). It seems to me that behind Moldbug’s Cathedral lies the shadow of the universal and homogenous state. By showing how history has treated its bad guys, Moldbug implies that total social inclusivity–the kind demanded by both the Cathedral and the universal and homogenous state–is impossible, since it requires us to exclude (through ostracization or liquidation) those who do not see inclusivity as our ultimate goal.

So far so good: reactionary historicism is a potent red pill that allows us to understand what is excluded by the aspiration to total social inclusivity. It frees us from the liberal Matrix and allows us to see the Cathedral as the oppressive entity that it is. The problem is that both reactionary and progressive historicism have a close ally, radical historicism, that has been wreaking havoc in both European and North American culture since at least the beginning of the twentieth century, and which has undermined many previous attempts at developing a cohesive reactionary political program. Radical historicism (I borrow this designation from George Grant, who borrowed it from Leo Strauss), like reactionary historicism, accepts that the Matrix is a powerful illusion. However, following from its greatest exponent, Nietzsche, it claims that all is history, and that all is relative: there is no privileged vantage point from which we can judge the past. The red pill does not disclose reality, because there is no stable reality to disclose. You take the red pill, and you are simply plunged into another Matrix. One Matrix follows another, in endless supply. How do you get out? You don’t. You learn to love whichever Matrix you have been plunged into, accept it despite its falsity, and use it to your advantage. Thus, the goal of life is not to discover the truth but to live as fully as possible, even in an illusory world. Commitment, immersion, conflict and action are not means to ends but ends in themselves. The neo-Nazi is often an unwitting devotee of this philosophy. He and his comrades participate in a mythology that provides unity, demands discipline and hardship, and (in their wildest imaginings) promises glorious battle and victory in the future. That neo-Nazism has no real political potential is irrelevant (at least from the perspective of Nietzschean radical historicism). It allows the neo-Nazi to break free from the workaday world and recover a sense of danger, conflict, and impending struggle–and that’s what counts. Such a person could just as well be a fanatical communist who cares more about the future showdown with capitalism than what will come after, or a feminist social justice advocate who finds her greatest delight in stoking feminist rage, caring little whether systemic misogyny is real or not or whether any particular rape story is true or not. This type of person is a nihilist-in-denial, charged with a blinding enthusiasm. He is the spiritual and philosophical descendent of Nietzsche and the political descendent of Georges Sorel. Radical historicism on this model is where right and left meet: the fiery-eyed traditionalist and the identity-politics crusader. Neither one is really interested in achieving their goal: what they love is the struggle.

Are the neoreactionaries just nihilists-in-denial, or something more? Radical historicism hangs over the thought of Edmund Burke and Joseph de Maistre, and it permeates the thought of post-Nietzsche reactionaries like Charles Maurras (who embraced Catholicism not because it represented the truth but because it was part of his vision of integral French nationalism) and Julius Evola (or at least what I’ve read of his work). Radical historicism also helped to produce Nazism, but I do not think it will facilitate that kind of destruction again, unless perhaps we consider the Islamic State to be a product of this worldview. In any case, I have little fear that neoreaction, if it takes such a Nietzschean path, will lead us into orgies of nihilistic death and destruction. Rather, I fear that the relativizing influence of radical historicism will instead neuter neoreaction and facilitate its integration into the Cathedral and the universal and homogenous state.

The core of our intellectual culture is progressive historicism (witness the unending human rights campaigns and other social causes that obsess everyone from teenage YouTube posters to university professors), but the advance guard of the liberal army is radical historicism, which relativizes everything it comes into contact with. The Cultural Studies programs in our universities, for example, are part of this advance guard. Once historicized and relativized, any religion, philosophy, or politics can be incorporated into the larger narrative of progressive historicism. In the universal and homogenous state there will be plenty of heterogeneity or difference, but none of it will mean anything because such differences will not be allowed to tear the fabric of the giant umbrella of inclusiveness. There will be Christians, Muslims, Jews and all the rest . . . even possibly neoreactionaries, who will be able to fulminate to their heart’s content, practising a neutered version of neoreaction. Their discourse will perhaps be full of imagination and intelligence, but it won’t be real.

This is why I ask if neoreaction is for real. Is it about truth, or is it just a way to escape a progressive worldview that has become, for people like us, too uninspiring to sustain intellectual life? Does its largely virtual presence mean that it was never, perhaps, meant to be real? Are the neoreactionaries just another part of the Cathedral?

I can’t answer these questions, but in my follow-up post I will propose a way out for neoreaction, if it really plans to take on the Cathedral and the Modern Structure. In doing so, I hope that the neoreactionary community will forgive my audaciousness. I know, however, that neoreactionary bloggers are not the type to worry about the etiquette of blogging and the risks of tossing around big ideas. If they were, I probably wouldn’t care what they have to say.

Right Thinkers #6: Joseph de Maistre (1753-1821)

“In the sensory as in the higher order, the law is the same and is old as evil: THE REMEDY FOR DISORDER WILL BE PAIN.”
-the Count in The Saint Petersburg Dialogues, by Joseph de Maistre, pg. 274

The political philosopher and polemicist Joseph de Maistre of Savoy was one of the great contemporary critics of the French Revolution and the violent changes it brought to Western civilization. He was also a defiant Catholic at a time when the Church faced harsh opposition from the disciples of modern philosophy. Although Maistre’s theological and philosophical ideas do not always withstand scrutiny, his wit and sheer polemical power make his writings essential reading for anyone interested in the history of conservatism, and he remains a potential role-model for those who would actively oppose the forces of historical ‘progress.’

Maistre has not become, like Edmund Burke, a hero among present-day North American conservatives, likely due to his anti-democratic political philosophy. This is tragic, because a reconsideration of Maistre could provide an antidote for the classical liberalism which is part of conservative discourse in North America, and which has created such political confusion in recent years due to its incompatibilities with social conservatism.

Although I like to avoid using the term reactionary, Maistre can justly be called a reactionary because his entire political philosophy stands as a reaction to the French Revolution, the event that sent him into exile. Maistre saw the French Revolution as exactly the world-changing event its proponents and admirers claimed it to be, but predicted it would spell doom for Europe due to its inversion of Christian European values. In his famous Considerations on France (1796), he writes, “There is a satanic element in the French Revolution which distinguishes it from any other revolution known or perhaps that will be known” (71). I wonder what he would have thought of the Russian Revolution, which contained a still stronger satanic element that bloomed and multiplied and still finds fertile ground today. (I know the term satanic will make some readers groan or blush, but it is accurate.)

In opposition to the flow of popular political opinion in his time, Maistre believed the ideal form of government to be absolute hereditary monarchy. He maintained that sovereignty is “always one, unviolable and absolute” (Study 112), and that this definition holds even in a political system in which power is divided. He cites the case of the English government: “. . . when the three powers which make up sovereignty in England are in agreement, what can they do? Blackstone’s answer must be accepted–EVERYTHING. And what can legally be done against them? NOTHING” (The Pope 140). In other words, when the branches of government reach a final decision, they exercise an absolute authority. Given that sovereignty is always absolute, if we must choose between a monarchy, a republic, or a mixed system, a monarchy is preferable. This is because under such a form of government, sovereignty is centralized in one person to whom it has been granted by God, a situation that of course makes everyone else subjects, thus creating a “kind of equality” (Study 116) that eases social envy (which as we know can poison democratic societies). Instead of trusting in democratic representatives, people can influence their society in a more direct manner by choosing representatives to bring their requests to the king (117), who has a responsibility to consider the needs of his subjects. Elective monarchy is not an option, for as Maistre asserts, “Men never respect what they have made. That is why an elective king never possesses the moral force of a hereditary sovereign . . .” (104).

The second-best form of government, according to Maistre, is a hereditary aristocracy (119). Aristocracy’s other from, elective aristocracy, is synonymous with democracy, and suffers from the same lack of respect accorded to elective monarchy (119). The involvement of the people in decision-making in democratic republics is also illusory, as the people never posses sovereignty. As Maistre writes, “Men count for something in a republic only to the degree that birth, marriage, and high talents give them influence; the simple citizen counts for nothing” (123). Many ordinary voters would agree.

Original sin is the basic fact at the heart of Maistre’s political philosophy. All that is made by human hands is destined to fail if its construction is not guided by God. Thus, all institutions must have religious roots if they are to last (Considerations 72-73). Original sin also provides the basis for Maistre’s critique of constitutionalism. He frankly asserts that “. . . Man cannot make a constitution, and no legitimate constitution can be written” (The Generative 161). Rather, the best societies are governed by principles that develop slowly and are absorbed unreflectively. (For this reason, Maistre would have no interest in the constitutional conservatism that is part of American conservative discourse.) I will not go into it here, but this traditionalism contradicts Catholic ideas on natural law, as natural law, although it may spring from the heart rather than from the head, forms only the basic principles of human law, which can be reasoned about, codified, and used to determine those principles which may be enshrined in written constitutions.

Maistre’s thinking on the nature of constitutions is tied to his conviction that, in his words, “. . . NOTHING GREAT HAS GREAT BEGINNINGS” (158). This general law also applies even to the naming of things: the more grandiose the title given, the more likely it is that the thing will not last. He remarks, “It is forbidden to man to give great names to the things of which he is the author and which he believes to be great; but if he has acted legitimately, the great thing will ennoble the vulgar name and it will become great” (174). Remember that the next time you come up with the ‘perfect’ title for an article! Rock bands searching for a name should also take heed and consider how pedestrian band names like The Beatles or The Rolling Stones were ‘ennobled’ over time.

Maistre’s most profound ideas, religious or otherwise, are those dealing with the interrelated issues of divine providence and sacrifice. Again, these ideas were formed as a response to the French Revolution.

Maistre had to account, from a theological perspective, for the calamity that had befallen France. Obviously, God had allowed France to make a terrible mistake. How could this be? Maistre puts forward the idea that “We are all bound to the throne of the Supreme Being by a flexible chain which restrains without enslaving us” (Considerations 47). To be free, we must be allowed to make mistakes, yet God has larger plans that our mistakes can’t thwart. The destruction of French society, Maistre suggests, may even be part of that plan; there is a reason why God did not intervene. Speaking of the anti-religious sentiment sweeping Europe, Maistre asks, “How has God punished this abominable delirium? He has punished it as he created the world, by a single phrase. He has said: LET IT BE–and the political world collapsed” (The Generative 180).

How, then, can the suffering of the victims of such terrible events be justified? Maistre’s answer is that unjust suffering and death is a form of sacrifice. Those who are sacrificed atone for the sins of all, and as a reward, they will spend less time in purgatory after death–or at least this is the argument arrived at by the characters in The Saint Petersburg Dialogues (261-262). In the dialogues, the Senator states, “The whole earth, continually steeped in blood, is nothing but an immense altar on which every living thing must be sacrificed without end, without restraint, without respite until the consummation of the world, the extinction of evil, the death of death” 253). Every war, famine, plague or natural disaster is a form of punishment inflicted upon humanity, with the ultimate goal of saving souls through sacrifice.

Maistre’s ideas regarding sacrifice are especially relevant today. We live in a world steeped in injustice, where very few people have the opportunity to flourish the way God intends. The situation is the same in the First World as it is in the Third World (although I do not mean to minimize the immense suffering of those who live in lands beset by war, famine, or political oppression). We are all–even the ‘privileged’ white heterosexual male–being crushed spiritually by political and economic forces that we can’t fight. We live in an age of sacrifice. If we refuse to sacrifice at least some of our treasured dreams, the sacrifice will be made for us, and it will be a blood sacrifice in the form of global war. As Maistre states, “There is only one way of restraining the scourge of war, and that is by restraining the disorders that lead to this terrible purification” (Considerations 63). A spirit of sacrifice, coupled with a determination to right the disorders in Western culture, is the surest road to peace. Surely, Maistre can function as a guide and source of inspiration as we move forward to that end.

Works Cited:

Maistre, Joseph de. Considerations on France [abridged]. Works 47-91.

——. Enlightenment on Sacrifices [abridged]. Works 291-298.

——. Essay on the Generative Principle of Political Constitutions [abridged]. Works 147-181.

——. The Pope [abridged]. Works 131-146.

——. The Saint Petersburg Dialogues [abridged]. Works 183-290.

——. Study on Sovereignty [abridged]. Works 93-129.

Maistre, Joseph de. The Works of Joseph de Maistre. Ed. and trans. Jack Lively. New York: Macmillan, 1965.

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