We reactionaries are, at heart, the jurists of God’s law. We interpret a legality simultaneously apparent but uncodified. Our conclusions, therefore, are of vital importance. When we formulate ideas they must stand up to examination-by-light of apparent philosophical truth. They must be concrete, metaphysically weighted diamonds; to compliment the world we are placed in, not to make it.
As such, our talk must be disciplined, or at least driven towards something coherent. At present, rather than continuing to develop amongst ourselves the various ideas and concrete principles we so need to oppose the modern world, we seem to be diverting ourselves by chin-wagging about little more than ear-catching names. The higher their probable superchat revenue and the slicker their style, the more heads each name turns. That is to be expected from ‘normie’ folk, but not from these quarters. The interminable obsession with names and petty personalities in these circles has reached a ripe, stinking maturity. Is this a reactionary vanguard or a dusty ballroom full of debutantes and grand-dames? If we aren’t careful, we’re doomed to become just as ossified, one-upping and frivolous as the latter.
Let’s not forget that in the end, names are interchangeable, it’s the ideas, the art, and the substance left behind that lives on. A name might not be known at all, but the lucid idea it generates can go off like a cannon shot through the hills. That we attribute the works to, say, “Plato” is ultimately a convenience of categorisation.
As a rule of thumb, the ‘fame’ (or rather ‘baggage’) of any right-wing figure is inversely proportional to the time it takes one to tune out of their appearances. I’m reminded, in a roundabout way, of that aphorism by the Master – “Boring, like an illustrious foreign visitor.” (#2911 in Kaulin’s Anthology) There are so many in this community with that rare ability to be both fascinating and generally entertaining – immigrants are neither welcome nor required.
For those of us interested solely in ideas and art – the best dialogue, perhaps the only dialogue capable of making a mark beyond the superficial – is that silent dialogue had between the reader and the lucid, considered text. To spend time obsessing over the political mundanities of the landscape and those that comment on it is to take for granted the priceless intellectual treasures we hold – and we alone at that.
Stagnation or brilliance is for us a choice, and too often we lapse into the former. We seem to forget the power of the ideas we deal with, just for a grotty season of:
“So wonderful of you to have secured an interview with Chester Hazbinstitute,” someone says.
“Why yes, just next week I’m meeting up with Waldo Green. And did you hear that so-and-so’s been streaming with Spot T. Redcap from Denver?”
“That’s nothing,” someone adds”, “such-and-such has booked an appearance on Won T. Shuttup, and I hear all kinds of exciting rumours about him and Dickie A. Gent, I simply MUST reach out.”
In all seriousness, one welcomes anyone with anything interesting to say about anything, but can we do away with this womanly infatuation with names as opposed to ideas?
I will point out, with only a little old-world smirk, that the Americans of our sphere seems far more enamored of the cheap online name than we peninsulares are on this side of the Atlantic, but then again, they have the questionable privilege of gossiping in Rome. In Scythia Minor we only mutter.