Selective Breeding and the Birth of Philosophy

Book review.

See here.

Amazon review:

This is an argument that philosophy is born with and dependent on the idea of nature; and that this idea was first discovered or manifested in the perception of biological reality, in particular the perception of hereditary transmission of physical and behavioral qualities, together with the perception that moral and legal codes are relative and contingent. It was generally only within the spiritual and intellectual horizon of certain types of aristocracies to have access to such perceptions, as well as ability and liberty to openly state or explore them. A connection is further observed, on these grounds, between philosophy and tyranny, or rather the philosopher and tyrant as closely related types that emerge during the decline of e.g., Greek and Renaissance Italian aristocratic communities. I make this case through a study of Nietzsche's reading of antiquity, in particular his reading of Plato and Pindar, or rather a Nietzschean reading of these. The first long chapter also covers George Frazer and anthropological and historical literature, as well as Homer. This is a revised version of my own doctoral dissertation, and includes a long new introduction explaining my intentions in this book. I make the case in this introduction that this same matter of selective breeding, whether sexual selection, or various societies' management of marriage and reproduction, constitutes the most important part of morality, legislation, or of the "lawgiver's art," and that a sharp awareness of this reality is what led, again, to the discovery of the standard of nature and the subsequent birth of philosophy.

The type of the tyrant is ultimately interpreted as a kind of "active philosophy," although it must be emphasized that such can only be the case for the ancient Greek or Renaissance Italian type, not what is called by the name "tyrant" indiscriminately today. Accordingly the voice of Callicles in Plato's Gorgias is interpreted as the political philosophy, or the weaponized posture of the pre-Socratic philosophical type.

The author:

Bronze Age Pervert, also known as BAP or B.A.P.,is a pseudonymous far-right Internet personality, associated with the manosphere. The media have identified Costin Vlad Alamariu (born May 21, 1980), a Romanian-American, as the person behind the pseudonym…Alamariu is of Romanian and Jewish descent…

More, see this.

The author’s alleged identity as “Bronze Age Pervert” and his ethnicity will not affect my review, which is as follows.

The book unfortunately takes HBD too seriously and positively notes execrable trash like “HBD Chick.” The book also supports the idea of steppe conquerors establishing themselves as an aristocratic class (there may be some truth in this), a variant of Hamilton’s noble barbarian thesis:

Hamilton, W.D. (1975), Innate social aptitudes of man: an approach from evolutionary genetics, in R. Fox (ed.), Biosocial Anthropology, Malaby Press, London, 133-53.

The incursions of barbaric pastoralists seem to do civilizations less harm in the long run than one might expect. Indeed, two dark ages and renaissances in Europe suggest a recurring pattern in which a renaissance follows an incursion by about 800 years. It may even be suggested that certain genes or traditions of pastoralists revitalize the conquered people with an ingredient of progress which tends to die out in a large panmictic population for the reasons already discussed. I have in mind altruism itself, or the part of the altruism which is perhaps better described as self-sacrificial daring. By the time of the renaissance it may be that the mixing of genes and cultures (or of cultures alone if these are the only vehicles, which I doubt) has continued long enough to bring the old mercantile thoughtfulness and the infused daring into conjunction in a few individuals who then find courage for all kinds of inventive innovation against the resistance of established thought and practice. Often, however, the cost in fitness of such altruism and sublimated pugnacity to the individuals concerned is by no means metaphorical, and the benefits to fitness, such as they are, go to a mass of individuals whose genetic correlation with the innovator must be slight indeed. Thus civilization probably slowly reduces its altruism of all kinds, including the kinds needed for cultural creativity (see also Eshel 1972).

I object to the “genetic correlation with the innovator must be slight indeed” statement in that it is incorrect from a global and/or group selection standpoint, although it is true with respect to the isolated population itself, which is probably how Hamilton meant it. Therefore, my objection is more how the Left/System and the HBD scum would misinterpret Hamilton’s point (“you see, members of the same group are unrelated and free riding destroys ethnic nepotism”) as opposed to the specific point that Hamilton is making about the dilution of altruism in a population. One can make arguments against Hamilton in that in a closely related population the “genetic altruism” may be widespread and that given computational modeling showing that ethnocentrists outcompete free-riders (as well as universalists), if we extend altruism into the ethnocentrism equation, things might not be as bleak as Hamilton suggests.

In any case, the book being reviewed here seems to be of the school of outside conquerors (e.g., from pastoralist/steppe settings) setting themselves up as an aristocratic ruling elite among settled farming people (e.g., “my noble position was won by my forebears wielding battle axes”) and one can view that in from the spectrum of degenerate “civilized” populations being enriched by the blood of “barbarians.”  However, there are no more White barbarians to do such enriching, and even if “suitable” non-White barbarians existed (and they do not exist – all we have are destructive low quality parasites), such “enrichment” would be racially destructive and so the EGI costs would outweigh any purported benefits. No, instead our regeneration now much come from within. Perhaps the Far Right elements of today’s degenerate and xenophilic White populations are the new barbarians. Who knows?  Or at least, a Far Right victory would allow for an enriching eugenics.

Putting the obsession with altruism aside, the following is Hamilton extending inclusive fitness beyond narrow kin:

The usefulness of the 'inclusive fitness' approach to social behavior (i.e. an approach using criteria like (b[AB]K-k)>0) is that it is more general than the 'group selection', 'kin selection', or 'reciprocal altruism' approaches and so provides an overview even where regression coefficients and fitness effects are not easy to estimate or specify. As against 'group selection' it provides a useful conceptual tool where no grouping is apparent -- for example, it can deal with an ungrouped viscous population where, owing to restricted migration, an individual’s normal neighbours and interactants tend to be his genetical kindred.

Because of the way it was first explained, the approach using inclusive fitness has often been identified with 'kin selection' and presented strictly as an alternative to 'group selection' as a way of establishing altruistic social behavior by natural selection (e.g. Maynard Smith 1964; Lewontin 1970). But the foregoing discussion shows that kinship should be considered just one way of getting positive regression of genotype in the recipient, and that it is this positive regression that is vitally necessary for altruism. Thus the inclusive-fitness concept is more general than 'kin-selection'. Haldane's suggestion about tribe-splitting can be seen in one light as a way of increasing intergroup variance and in another as a way of getting positive regression in the population as a whole by having the groups which happen to have most altruists divide most frequently. In this case, the altruists are helping true relatives. But in the assortive-settling model it obviously makes no difference if altruists settle with altruists because they are related (perhaps never having parted from them) or because they recognize fellow altruists as such, or settle together because of some pleiotropic effect of the gene on habitat preference. If we insist that group selection is different from kin selection the term should be restricted to situations of assortation definitely not involving kin. But it seems on the whole preferable to retain a more flexible use of terms; to use group selection where groups are clearly in evidence and qualify with mention of 'kin' (as in the 'kin-group ‘selection referred to by Brown 1973), 'relatedness' or 'low migration' (which is often the cause of relatedness ingroups), or else 'assortation', as appropriate. The term 'kin selection' appeals most where pedigrees tend to be unbounded and interwoven, as is so often the case with man.

Let’s get to the main thesis of the book.

The original native societies (e.g., in very early Ancient Greece) were ruled by egalitarian “totalitarian democracies” (not the same as I use that term) that had as their underlying structure a strict, absolute, dogmatic adherence to ancestral tradition and laws (”nomos”). Councils of elders held the real power, and dissent from a slavish adherence to tradition could mean death. Ethnically and culturally, these societies were non-martial farming people of a gracile phenotype.

How did things change? These lands were invaded and conquered by physically robust pastoralists of a martial nature (e.g., steppe people) who set themselves up as a ruling elite and instituted an aristocratic ethos, with a willingness to accept new ideas, and a hierarchical social structure and establishment of kings with real power and an aristocracy.  Even if the newcomers and the natives genetically melded over time (sometimes this happened, sometimes it did not), these social and cultural changes and structures persisted.

Given the aristocratic ethos, physical characteristics, pastoralist origins (e.g., animal breeding) of the newcomers and the establishment of a societal culture around newcomer values, issues like breeding came into focus as important, not only of animals, but, more importantly, of people as well. The innate heritable abilities of people come into focus. A key to the aristocratic ethos was the idea that the aristocracy were fit to rule due to their innate (heritable) superiority (but see below) and that a purpose to the understanding of nature with respect to the aristocracy was a breeding program to create superior individuals of moral and physical vigor. The author mentions the:

…observed descent of concrete physical qualities by blood and breeding as opposed to the authority of ancestral stories and laws…

And:

Nature is body and blood, and blood and is therefore heredity, Knowledge of breeding and heredity is, again, to be expected among a pastoral people who have long experience with livestock breeds. Furthermore, when war and hunting are prized, there is also an emphasis on the breeding of horses and of dogs…

This led to the “discovery of nature” – the ability to understand the natural world – as opposed to adherence to blind tradition. This in turn led to the rise of philosophy and of tyranny (sometimes supported by philosophy) – philosophy and tyranny often manifesting as important during periods of degeneration of the aristocratic regimes, when these regimes needed to better justify and fortify themselves.  The author states (italics in original): 

 …it is this element of absolute unmooring from the settled, democratic rule of the ancestral customs  that, when the actual aristocracies are in political and social decline in the late Archaic age. Is radicalized, recovered, refined, and made abstract, not only by the philosophical way of life and its discovery of nature, but by the way of life of the tyrant.

Thus, in a sense, philosophy and tyranny are used as tools to attempt to regenerate a declining aristocratic social structure, in part through the “discovery of nature.”

Note how Nietzsche associated the rise of Socrates and subsequent Geek (Apollonian) philosophy with a degeneration of the aristocratic (Dionysian) Hellenic society. The book’s author stresses that the various upheavals in (Ancient) Greek ancestry were not, as supposed, an attempt to return to an idyllic “settled” life, but rather a regeneration of the “wild” and “barbaric” unsettled martial way of life. This goes back to Hamilton (“…suggest a recurring pattern in which a renaissance follows an incursion by about 800 years. It may even be suggested that certain genes or traditions of pastoralists revitalize the conquered people”); the idea here is that the original pastoralist conquerors became too settled and a fresh infusion of pastoralist barbarism regenerates the original aristocratic attitude (in this sense, “settled” means the non-martial “democratic” farming societies while “unsettled” represents the war-like aristocratic pastoralists, including pastoralist warbands of young warriors).

The author extends his theory a bit and talks about how the radicalization of nature (e.g., with the Ancient Greeks) was associated with a decline in aristocratic power due to both external and internal influences. With respect to the external, the rule of a given aristocracy can be physically challenged as well as their legitimacy to rule deconstructed. With respect to the internal, a given aristocracy can degenerate.  The author notes a bit of a discordance between a strict adherence to (a) the aristocracy is fit to rule to their superior qualities, and (b) there exists a tradition of rule by a certain aristocracy, which leads to the question as to whether the aristocracy rules due to their currently existing innate qualities or by tradition.  Of course, part of the aristocratic tradition itself is the idea of nature and of innate superiority of the rulers, but the existence of this discordance led to the further radicalization and abstraction of the nature principle with the philosophy and tyranny manifesting during periods of decline. One can question as well whether the discordance between rule by superiority or rule by tradition became more of an issue in the event of a degenerating internal decline of the aristocracy.  The author quotes Pindar talking about strength in men manifesting in alternate generations, such as may happen with crops and fruit trees; the aristocratic apologia here is that while the sons of aristocratic heroes may be mediocre, the blood is still there, and subsequent generations may yield men of quality once again – sort of a upward progressing to the mean. The author rejects such an interpretation of Pindar’s passage as an apologia for his own time, since it seems that the passage was meant for aristocrats who did not require self-legitimacy, rather than for public propaganda purposes. I might add though that we today could interpret the meaning of Pindar’s passage in the manner described above, as our own justification for aristocracy (regardless of Pindar’s intention); however, I prefer an elite chosen on the basis of exhibited manifest personal superiority, rather than a hereditary aristocratic class from which we may merely hope for future ability.

The author stresses the Pindarian ideal of innate, biological, heritable traits being of immeasurably more value than that learned by education, training, and convention; one must be bred to be an impetuous “beast,” both fox and lion, with the manly aristocratic traits whose most refined manifestation is a result, ultimately of nature, not nurture, traits whose source is the “blood.”  It seems clear that Pindar valued heredity, nature, and blood, a theoretical basis of human understanding compatible with today’s Far Right.

There is also a discussion of Plato’s Gorgias, specifically the ideas of Callicles and how that fits in with the aristocratic idea of nature, the primacy of biology, and the link between philosophy and tyranny, with the philosopher and tyrant being “kindred types.” The author states that the “fundamental function of political philosophy on the one hand, and of tyranny on the other” is the “protection - the breeding - and training or protection of this biological specimen.”  Thus, philosophy and tyranny aim at creating “game reserves” for the “aristocratic breeding project” now abstracted into political philosophy as independent of classes or tribes.”  Plato may be attempting to hide his beliefs in this regard and conceals the kinship between philosophy and tyranny through attacks on tyranny. Given the persecution of philosophy by democratic forces (the trial and death of Socrates being just one prime example), Plato (and others) tried via apologia to deflect this animus and obscure the connection between philosophy and tyranny (as noted above).

Complaints about philosophy can come from the perspective of omission or commission. Of the former, from a Jewish/Islamic perspective, by relentlessly questioning everything, including societal conventions, philosophy can erode adherence to those conventions and cause the omission of people following conventions and traditions considered essential for societal stability. By placing doubts in the minds of men regarding fundamental principles, apathy can result. As regards the latter, the Ancient Greek complaint was more that philosophy can encourage the commission of illegal acts and the march to tyranny.

Traditionally, the interpretation of the Gorgias was that Plato was siding with Socrates in the Callicles-Socrates debate, with Socrates seemingly arguing for a more “morale, humane, proto-Christian” position while Callicles argued in favor of a more Social Darwinist “might makes right” approach, which was nature based, and that was concerned with promoting the interests of superior human specimens.  Indeed, Callicles’ thought was to support the political over the philosophical life, in the direction if tyranny to safeguard the promotion of nature and the well-being of his superior human specimens.  In a sense, Callicles was promoting the pre-Socratic philosophical position from which he derives the idea of the superior man breaking free of the stifling bounds of convention. The author however believes that Plato secretly sided with Callicles and claims that the “refutation” by Socrates of the positions of Callicles was not much of a refutation at all, and in one sense Socrates “doubled down” on some of Callicles’ ideas.  Socrates seemed to believe that Callicles was being somewhat political naïve in believing that convention suppressed the superior only through (coercive) “speech” (in modern language: memes and ideologies) while Socrates invoked the reality of a (democratic) regime resorting to physical force to restrain the ambitions of Callicles’ “Übermensch.”  Note that Callicles considered Socrates as a superior man and that the tyranny would also serve to protect philosophy from democratic persecution – a persecution that was all too real. To protect and promote philosophy in a city like Athens, Plato had to both “spiritualize” Callicles’ “aristocratic radicalism” and obscure the link between philosophy and tyranny; indeed, to make philosophy seem in opposition to tyranny.  Plato’s aims here are said to be to “advise potential philosophers on the necessity of liberation from convention, "to assure the cities that this liberation would not encourage tyranny,” and that “the philosopher is the true possessor of the political art.” Plato thus wants to leverage Greek city politics to advance the cause of philosophy. Convention cannot be openly opposed as such, but infiltrated from within, for the sake of philosophy and aristocratic natural values.

I assume that the reader is familiar with Nietzsche and his work so that I can briefly touch on some of the more novel points this book makes on Nietzsche and his work. Thus, as regards Nietzsche, the fan of Napoleon, he regarded philosophy as a way of life and had as a goal “making the world safe for philosophy,” so to speak rather than the goal of certain Greeks to focus on producing a “supreme physical specimen.” Ultimately though, the link between philosophy and tyranny remains. I agree with the author that at some point the writings of Nietzsche need to be taken at face value, and not merely interpreted as him “joking” or “making a point.”  Additional information on Nietzsche:

See this.

And this.

For Nietzsche (and philosophy/religion in general), we see a distinction between exoteric and esoteric programs; the former is the outward political and moral program and the latter is the inner spiritual meaning, such as the interests of philosophy and the life of the philosopher. Both are real, both are relevant, and it is wrong to consider the exoteric as merely a “metaphor” or “irony” or a “joke” (in the case of Nietzsche). The author gives Sufism as an example – jihad can certainly have an esoteric meaning of an inner spiritual struggle and personal warfare, but it also has an exoteric meaning as warfare against unbelievers, and it is the exoteric that provides protection for the esoteric. Likewise, if Nietzsche’s aim was the preservation of philosophy, then his exoteric objectives were not merely “metaphor” or “jokes” but need to be taken at face value as ideals for the protection of philosophy.  Both Plato and Nietzsche had the same objective of preserving philosophy, but their tactics differed due to the context of their respective eras. Plato and the Socratic school felt that they needed to obscure, to spiritualize and make abstract the aristocratic  ethos to protect philosophy from the attacks of democracy.  Nietzsche on the other hand believed that the Platonic school was all too successful, resulting in an enervation of European man, who required rebarbarization.

As part of this is an reexamination of aristocracy, emphasizing its physical aspects. Here we observe a discussion of tanning. Thus, contra to the Nordicist view, in Ancient Greece, a tanned physique was demonstration of the aristocratic warrior, and the tanned Spartan-Greek aristocracy was contrasted to the (effete) Persian-Oriental oligarchy.  This would perhaps be a surprise to those who have drunk the “movement” Kool-Aid, but you should understand by now how the Nordicists are wrong about just about everything. In any case, this focus on tanning emphasizes the “physicality” of the Greek aristocracy, resulting from a long history of breeding and training (with the latter, often outdoors, contributing to tanning, as did being on military campaigns).  We again observe the link between physicality, breeding, and training and the focus on nature as the basis of philosophy, and we observe the analogy of the philosopher and a bred and trained “athlete of the intellect.” While Plato was more direct than Nietzsche in the link between physicality and philosophy, the latter did basically agree with the former. The aristocratic ideal – that contained within it physicality, competition, breeding, and training; hence, nature – was the foundation for philosophy and high culture. Of course, physicality and training are insufficient for philosophy and high culture, as the case of Sparta makes clear.  However, Athens had a balance between the aristocratic idea and the balanced promotion of culture and philosophy. Thus, aristocratic physicality can be viewed as necessary but not sufficient for a philosophical regime.  We can consider Ancient Rome – that Nietzsche stated was a case of the stalk growing at the expense of the flower – as akin to a Latin Sparta, in that their aristocratic values (i.e., the patricians) did not result in the “flower” of a native philosophy/culture.

We also come back to the idea that philosophy can be viewed as the abstraction and spiritualization of physicality, physical beauty, competition, etc. that occurred  during a period of aristocratic decline, in which a “liberalization” allows for aristocratic energy to be focused on intellectual pursuits, which themselves can be used to defend the declining aristocratic regime. What Nietzsche saw as fundamental for establishing the aristocratic  regime were cruelty, intolerance, and the ‘pathos of distance.” The creation of the Greek polis involved citizen quality over quantity, and, at least in the beginning, a ruthless weeding out of the inferior could be considered as essential. Danger – internal, external, or both – was important for creating the context for intolerant cruelty to build and maintain the regime, and a paradox for such a system was how to both create the required “predatory beasts” (my term) while at the same time constraining their ambition to prevent them from wrecking an aristocratic society. With degeneration these “pent up” political and spiritual tensions burst forth and during periods of “liberalization” these tensions and energies can be focused on intellectual and cultural pursuits.  Indeed, the author states that ”Political weakening is good for culture” – Spengler’s distinction of culture vs. civilization comes to mind (although in his scheme culture peaked in the earlier times before centralized authority and civilization, not later during degeneration) and it is during these times of decline that Nietzsche claimed that “the most amazing specimens can emerge.”  Indeed, there must be the right types of people to take advantage of these periods, and this is when tyranny can emerge (another link between philosophy and tyranny). Tyranny emerges here not only because of the weakening of the aristocratic constraints but also because of a “strengthening” that can take place in those rare “amazing specimens” – novel, brilliant, tyrannical men (“beautiful monsters,” e.g., Caesar) - that allow them to flourish in periods of decline, in the same manner that the philosophers (“tyrants of the spirit”) can flourish.

Thus, barbarians establish an aristocratic regime over a sedentary population and under the pressure of danger establish an aristocratic regime characterized by cruelty, intolerance, pathos of distance, and the breeding program, coupled to training, to produce the requisite human material. This human material, and its training, and the background of the aristocratic ideals furnish the raw material for high culture, including philosophy.  Then during decline, political weakness, when the pent-up energies are released, “monstrous types” emerge – and akin to the concept of biological mutation, most of these types will be weak and botched (and men of mixed race and warring heredities) but a minority of the more fortunate will be stronger and these will be the “beautiful monsters” – Alcibiades, Caesar, da Vinci, and, no doubt, Napoleon. 

The Platonic project had as an exoteric meaning to fight Geek decadence and an esoteric meaning to make the cities safe for philosophy.  But as described above, to obfuscate, the abstraction and spiritualization of nature ended up reinforcing an enervating decadence that Nietzsche opposed. The Socratic-Platonic school’s attempted cure for the age of dissolution reinforced the problems.  While it made the remaining Classical World safe for philosophy it also created a breeding ground for Christianity, which the author claims led to “the misbreeding of modern European man.” Thus, the conditions for philosophy become untenable – the misbreeding eliminates even most of the “beautiful monsters” and creates a zeitgeist unsuitable for philosophy.  While Platonism – suitable for a late-stage civilizations and not for barbarians introduced to culture (in other words, suitable for Spengler’s [late] Fall and not Spring) - can be forgiven for not foreseeing the Christian threat, the Platonist tendency to ascetic “otherworldliness” was an inherent flaw that cannot be explained away. On the one hand, ascetism was a reasonable “treatment” in a age of decadence and unrestrained instincts. But the problem was that a proper understanding of nature and of the body was lost, which became disastrous when Christianity was able to enforce Platonist exoteric doctrine (morality, etc.) more powerfully than what Plato imagined. The true power of philosophy is in its inner esoteric meaning of breeding and nature; Platonist moral philosophy was “contingent” on historical circumstances and should not be broadly applied, certainly not in its Christian variant.

Nietzsche and Plato disagreed on tactics, not aims, a point made clear all above. The aims include the preservation and promotion of nature, the breeding of genius, of amazing specimens, and to make society safe for philosophy.  As the author points out, “man is a political animal, attracted to “force, power, and violence.”  The purpose of human nature is the production of genius, and the specific production of military genius is a prerequisite for the stability of a state that can allow genius more generally to flourish. Inevitably there is the association of philosophy with tyranny. The Conclusion of the book summarizes all of this.  The Appendix may be of utility to those interested in Strauss but does not alter the interpretations already discussed.

To summarize the fundamentals here: The “idea of nature” derives from aristocratic ideals, and defenders of aristocracy respond to its decline by “abstracting and radicalizing” the “idea of nature.” The author connects two strands of philosophical thought; first, Nietzsche’s thesis that philosophy and tyranny (that are linked) originate with aristocratic degeneration and, second, the Straussian idea that “nature” is a requisite precondition for the development of philosophy.

In summary, this was an interesting book.  You can argue that it is a bit “dense” and repetitive, but it is adapted from a thesis, so that needs to be considered.  The author presents sufficient evidence to support his major contentions, and the emphasis here on nature, heredity, biology, and breeding is a healthy response to those who want to strip Greek philosophy and the philosophy of Nietzsche of its biological connotations (indeed, the author critiques those who wrote that Nietzsche was “joking” or didn’t mean what people assumes he meant).  Thus, the book is a necessary corrective in response to the tendency of the Left and Center to de-biologize philosophy and merely extol its purely abstract ethical considerations. I would recommend this book for those on the Right who are more of the “intellectual type,” at least as a thought-provoking exercise in considering deeper meanings of various philosophical and historical currents of relevance to the West.  Indeed, a biology-based philosophy steeped in nature can be utilized to form an ethical defense of our genetic interests, including those interests at the group level, a topic I’ve broached at my blogs (and of course the third part of On Genetic Interests begins the discussion of such issues).

Irrational Man

Book review.

Irrational Man.  The Amazon description of the book succinctly summarizes its contents:

Widely recognized as the finest definition of existentialist philosophy ever written, this book introduced existentialism to America in 1958. Barrett speaks eloquently and directly to concerns of the 1990s: a period when the irrational and the absurd are no better integrated than before and when humankind is in even greater danger of destroying its existence without ever understanding the meaning of its existence.

Irrational Man begins by discussing the roots of existentialism in the art and thinking of Augustine, Aquinas, Pascal, Baudelaire, Blake, Dostoevski, Tolstoy, Hemingway, Picasso, Joyce, and Beckett. The heart of the book explains the views of the foremost existentialists—Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, Heidegger, and Sartre. The result is a marvelously lucid definition of existentialism and a brilliant interpretation of its impact.

The author engages in a neo-Spenglerian discussion stating that different eras exhibit (Western) man having innate metaphysical inclinations for different forms of philosophy, literature, and art, with those era-appropriate forms resonating with the people of that time, while other forms, of past eras, would not resonate.  Further, any putative affinity for these expired forms, in the present day, would merely be artificial sentimentality. Thus, he avers that the current age (for him and I presume for us as well) is that of existentialist philosophy and literature, and of modern art. I suppose that he would beleive that a modern preference for, say, Michelangelo or Dante would be philosophical-cultural pseudomorphosis.

The author distinguishes, derived from the thought of Matthew Arnold, the Hebraic worldview of action, doing, and moralism with the Hellenic worldview of thought, intellectualism, and abstraction. While this distinction is somewhat truthful, it is also ironic that the "action-oriented, pragmatic" Hebrew was obsessed with god and the spiritual-moral world of that god, while the "intellectual, abstract" Hellene valued science, the body, and physical beauty.  So, the action-oriented Hebrews were focused on a Big Daddy in the Sky, while the abstract intellectual Hellenes were admiring the physiques of young men and formulating the first foundations of what would later become Western science. The author never recognizes, much less dissects, these contradictions and inconsistencies. The author associates the Hebraic mindset – the one he discusses, not the contradictions and inconsistences mentioned here – as being that which is being revived by existentialism.  I have problems with that thesis, given my focus on the contradictions and inconsistences noted above. 

A key point in the existentialist worldview is that existence (the fact that an entity exists) precedes essence (what that entity is). Platonism and related doctrines flips that by asserting that it are only the essences of entities that are truly real, while the particularities of existence are only ephemeral manifestations of essence. Platonism, with its prioritizing of the universal over the individual, of essence over existence, is presented as the antithesis of existentialism; indeed, it is part of the Classical/Western tradition that existentialism has attempted to overturn. But even here, Plato is said to demonstrate some existentialist characteristics, as his championing of reason as philosophy was for the redemption of the individual, as well as down-to-earth practical matters of designing a perfect polity, rather than being abstraction for the sake of abstraction.  Of course, the author attempts a bit of mind-reading, and avers that Plato’s promotion of the universal and eternal Platonic ideals was Plato’s way of defying the inevitability of change, decay, and death in the real world.  Hence, according to Plato, while the existing particular is ephemeral and not fully real, the fully real Platonic is timeless and eternal. See this for more about Platonic vs. existentialist reality.  Christianity, based as it is on faith and personal redemption, reflects its Hebraic origins, and also has some seeds of existentialist viewpoints.

I finish my summary of this part of the book by quoting the author on Blake and Nietzsche:

“Drive your plow over the bones of the dead” is not the aphorism of a man who is seeking merely to hearken back to the “green & pleasant land” of ancient Britain. If a man marries his hell to his heaven, his evil to his good, Blake holds, he will become a creature such as the earth has not yet seen.  Nietzsche put the same insight paradoxically “Mankind must become better and more evil.”

As regards the heart of the book - the analysis of Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, Heidegger, and Sartre – the summary and interpretation is fine as far as it goes (not that I agree with all of it). Of these four individuals, the only one I really value is Nietzsche (not that I agree with him on all, and, anyway, he didn’t want to be seen as a prophet, nor his views looked at as some sort of dogma). His work has power, and especially that from the second half of his career is eminently readable, unlike the pompous windbag Heidegger, the grand traditionalist who needs a book to make a point more elegantly summarized in a single page, and who can pontificate endlessly (and incomprehensibly) about “Being”. Kierkegaard’s interest in Christianity leaves me cold, and I see Sartre as an over-rated leftist polemicist.

The author’s favoritism is laughably obvious, with his lickspittle defense of, and promotion and admiration of, Kierkegaard, to the point that one wonders if Barrett spontaneously ejaculated while reading Kierkegaard’s work. Not surprisingly, (given Kierkegaard’s Christianity), Barrett also has an obvious bias in favor of God and of religion, while subtly mocking atheism.  The author doesn’t seem to grasp all of the implications of Nietzsche’s Overman and believes it is just an Olympian superman in the clouds, rather than a self-overcoming and a more practical reality (Nietzsche admired Napoleon and to an extent Cesare Borgia).  The author takes the anti-Faustian view that the well-rounded man needs to cultivate some mediocrity and “humor” (juvenile jackassery such as in the Alt-Right?).

A useful insight from the author, re: Nietzsche and the underlying theory about a will to power is as follows:

…the peculiar attraction Communism holds for the so-called backward or underdeveloped countries: it is a will to power on the part of these peoples, a will to take their fate in their own hands and make their own history. This powerful and secret appeal of Communism is something that our own statesmen do not seem in the least to understand.

Far enough. But note that like Christianity, Communism and other doctrines of the Far Left are based on resentment of the lower for the higher, the revolt of the underman, ultimately based on Bioleninism.  In contrast, when Whites, when higher men, want to take their fate in their own hands, they turn to Fascism, to doctrines of the Far Right.  Barrett writes:

…The goal of power need not be defined, because it is its own goal…

…the subject facing the object in a kind of hidden antagonism…Nature thus appears as a realm to be conquered, and man as the creature who is to be the conqueror.

For Nietzsche the era of reason and science raises the question of what is to be done with the primitive instincts and passions of man; in pushing these aside the age threatens us with a decline in vitality for the whole species.

Fair enough. I always say that science and technics – and rationality as a whole – are methods, means to an end, and not ends to themselves.  You cannot ultimately define values, ends, from means, from methods. Relate to that, see this: Racial Existentialism. Also see the role of the rational (Salter) and irrational (Yockey) in pro-White activism discussed here.

Readers of my work know that I am no fan of the pompous windbag traditionalist Heidegger.  With respect to this book the author describes Heidegger’s concept of Dasein as a “field theory” of human being that is analogous to energy field theories of matter in modern (in his day) physics. Thus, a person’s being is not only what is under their skin but encompasses all of their interactions and associations with reality; it is theirs, but it is not specifically confined to a material bodily core.

There is an amusing aside by the author in this section:

David Hume, in a moment of acute skepticism, felt panicky in the solitude of his study and had to go out and join his friends in the billiard room in order to be reassured that the external world was really there.

I am no fan of the leftist windbag Sartre either, and I see little to be gained by his philosophical perspectives. Of course, at the time this book was written, the American public strongly associated existentialism with the likes of Sartre; thus, this had to be an integral part of Barrett’s analysis. Barret describes Sartre as a hyper-masculine Cartesian dualist, whose philosophy is essential alien to nature-based women. Sartre distinguishes the object of Being-in-itself with then subject Being-for-Itself, with the former being more feminine, and the latter, acting through an always conscious act of will, being masculine, defining a life project through free will and the ability to say “no.”

Nothing in the book altered my high regard for Nietzsche, my indifference to Kierkegaard, and my negative attitude toward Heidegger and Sartre.

Conclusion

The book ends with a concluding summary The Place of the Furies (there are some subsequent appendices, but they are not essential enough to comment on in this review). Here, the author indulges in his typical atomic hysteria about man blowing up the world, and makes various insights, some truthful and amusing (Americans are non-intellectual, anti-intellectual, and unreflective by nature) and some controversial (taking the 1984-style idea that communists are Nietzscheans in the sense of caring only about the exercise of power and control – he states that communists “...have thus always exhibited a strange ambivalence: the most naively optimistic view of human nature in theory, and in practice the most brutal and cynical attitude toward human beings”). He believes that abstract rationalism is a threat to humanity; the following may be a reasonable summary of the author’s views:

Contrary to the rationalist tradition, we know now that it is not his reason that makes man man, but rather that reason is a consequence of that which really makes him man. For it is man’s existence as a self-transcending self that has forged and formed reason as one of its projects. As such, man’s reason is specifically human…

That I suppose is to be expected from a book whose title is Irrational Man.  He also states:

Today is always and for all men the digging of one’s way out of the ruins of yesterday.

In summary, he has an anti-Faustian worldview that is at odds with my own.

The book would have benefited from a clearly stated definition and dissection of what (according to the author at least) existentialist thought actually is, instead of assuming the reader already knows and/or can reconstruct the philosophical paradigms from the descriptions of examples of existentialist thought and art examined in the book. The author’s whining about nuclear weapons and the assumed atomic apocalypse around the corner – while perhaps somewhat understandable (but still somewhat hysterical) at the time the book was written - seems dated today (more than 60 years with no nuclear war, how about that?), although hysterics today are becoming breathless about Putin (some things never change).  The author’s commentary about how technology has made traditional politics and diplomacy irrelevant is just more over-heated hysteria.

All in all, despite my reservations about the author and his viewpoints, this is a good introduction to existentialism. And it is not dated, since existentialism has, if anything, declined in the past sixty years; there have been no significant advancements. In the modern age, today, all we have is “critical theory” “deconstructionism” obsessed with race and gender. And if you want a summary of that, just look into an unflushed, used stall toilet in an airport men’s room.

Nietzsche vs. Melville

Apparent vs. true worlds.

See this from Herman Melville’s Moby Dick, a quote that I consider the philosophical core of the book:

Hark ye yet again—the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event—in the living act, the undoubted deed—there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there’s naught beyond. But ’tis enough. He tasks me; he heaps me; I see in him outrageous strength, with an inscrutable malice sinewing it. That inscrutable thing is chiefly what I hate; and be the white whale agent, or be the white whale principal, I will wreak that hate upon him. Talk not to me of blasphemy, man; I’d strike the sun if it insulted me. For could the sun do that, then could I do the other; since there is ever a sort of fair play herein, jealousy presiding over all creations. But not my master, man, is even that fair play. Who’s over me? Truth hath no confines.

So, what is Melville, speaking through Ahab, saying here?  Everything that we can perceive through our senses, the material world – “visible objects”- is just surface veneer, a façade, “pasteboard masks,” which conceals the true, hidden reality beneath it.  This hidden reality is manifested in, or simply is, some “unknown but still reasoning thing” (God?). Events, acts, and deeds can sometimes reveal the presence of this hidden, unknown thing – it “puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask.”  So, if one wants to strike out at this hidden force, this manipulator of events, one has to “strike through the mask!”  After all, if the mask is hiding the true driving force behind events, and if some events reveal the presence of that hidden force, then one can access the hidden force, attack it, harm it, by striking through the mask behind which it hides. Or, our perceived reality is akin to a prison, and to reach out beyond it to strike out against that which imprisons us - our jailor - we need to thrust “through the wall” of that prison.  To Ahab, the event which revealed the presence of the “unknown but still reasoning thing” was the loss of his leg, and Moby Dick is the wall that forms part of Ahab’s prison.  

Ahab is unsure if Moby Dick is just the agent of the unknown force - thus, the whale is a “pasteboard mask” - or if the whale is actually the principal, the hidden force itself (e.g., “Sometimes I think there’s naught beyond"). It seems to me that, according to Ahab’s epistemology of reality, it makes more sense for the whale to be the agent of something else. Besides the absurdity of a whale being the principal of which Ahab speaks, the animal is hardly an “unknown thing." How could Moby Dick be both the wall and the jailor, the pasteboard mask and that behind it?  It makes more sense for the whale to be the agent of another force that Ahab opposes and that he strikes at that “unknown but still reasoning thing” by hunting and killing Moby Dick (thus, striking through the mask).  But in the end, it doesn’t matter to Ahab; either way, he hates and must kill the whale and what it represents: “But ’tis enough. He tasks me; he heaps me; I see in him outrageous strength, with an inscrutable malice sinewing it. That inscrutable thing is chiefly what I hate…”  

Ahab then further displays his Faustian nature by: “I’d strike the sun if it insulted me” and that he has no master and that he represents truth: “But not my master, man, is even that fair play. Who’s over me? Truth hath no confines.”  For moralpathy and Ahab as moralpath, see here.

Ahab’s discourse, in which he contrasts the visible world of our perception and the unknown thins lurking behind it, reminds one of the distinction between the apparent and true world paradigms analyzed by Nietzsche in Twilight of the Idols.  For Ahab (and Melville), the world of our perception is the apparent world, but there is underlying this a true (or more true) world of the “unknown but still reasoning thing.” Let’s see what Nietzsche has to say about this.

The true world -- we have abolished. What world has remained? The apparent one perhaps? But no! With the true world we have also abolished the apparent one

The full quote:

It will be appreciated if I condense so essential and so new an insight into four theses. In that way I facilitate comprehension; in that way I provoke contradiction.

First proposition. The reasons for which "this" world has been characterized as "apparent" are the very reasons which indicate its reality; any other kind of reality is absolutely indemonstrable.

A very positivist, materialist, empiricist, scientific view. I say that as praise, not condemnation.

Second proposition. The criteria which have been bestowed on the "true being" of things are the criteria of not-being, of nothingness, the "true world" has been constructed out of contradiction to the actual world: indeed an apparent world, insofar as it is merely a moral-optical illusion.

Third proposition. To invent fables about a world "other" than this one has no meaning at all, unless an instinct of slander, detraction, and suspicion against life has gained the upper hand in us: in that case, we avenge ourselves against life with a phantasmagoria of "another," a "better" life.

Christianity in a nutshell.  Also, much of the nonsense about a superior Golden Age of the “traditionalists” (Nietzsche denounced this view, recognizing that the past was an age lower than that of the present).

Fourth proposition. Any distinction between a "true" and an "apparent" world -- whether in the Christian manner or in the manner of Kant (in the end, an underhanded Christian) -- is only a suggestion of decadence, a symptom of the decline of life. That the artist esteems appearance higher than reality is no objection to this proposition. For "appearance" in this case means reality once more, only by way of selection, reinforcement, and correction. The tragic artist is no pessimist: he is precisely the one who says Yes to everything questionable, even to the terrible -- he is Dionysian.

The full reasoning:

How the “True World” Finally Became An Fable:

The History of an Error

1. The true world -- attainable for the sage, the pious, the virtuous man; he lives in it, he is it.

(The oldest form of the idea, relatively sensible, simple, and persuasive. A circumlocution for the sentence, "I, Plato, am the truth.")

The Classical Civilization.

2. The true world -- unattainable for now, but promised for the sage, the pious, the virtuous man ("for the sinner who repents").

(Progress of the idea: it becomes more subtle, insidious, incomprehensible -- it becomes female, it becomes Christian.)

Christianity = feminine, subtle, insidious, incomprehensible.

3. The true world -- unattainable, indemonstrable, unpromisable; but the very thought of it -- a consolation, an obligation, an imperative.

(At bottom, the old sun, but seen through mist and skepticism. The idea has become elusive, pale, Nordic, Königsbergian [i.e., Kantian].)

The characterization of “Nordic” is amusing here given certain connotations in the “movement.” Gregor associated Nordicism with an ideology of despair, as Guntherite Nordicism harkened back to a better past of pure Nordics that have become mongrelized and degraded; somewhat differently, but with a similar tone, modern Nordicists aver that pure Nordics still exist but are always endangered by mixture with inferior peoples. Nordicism is also associated with Traditionalism and its obsession with a past Golden Age. So, in a sense, Nordicist narratives are “a consolation, an obligation, an imperative” but, on the other hand, modern Nordicists would object to the characterization of their ideology as “unattainable, indemonstrable, unpromisable” since they will argue that Nordic, or “Nordish,” preservationism is attainable, demonstrable, and promisable.

4. The true world -- unattainable? At any rate, unattained. And being unattained, also unknown. Consequently, not consoling, redeeming, or obligating: how could something unknown obligate us?

(Gray morning. The first yawn of reason. The cockcrow of positivism.)

5. The "true" world -- an idea which is no longer good for anything, not even obligating -- an idea which has become useless and superfluous -- consequently, a refuted idea: let us abolish it!

(Bright day; breakfast; return of bon sens [“good sense”] and cheerfulness; Plato's embarrassed blush; pandemonium of all free spirits.)

6. The true world -- we have abolished. What world has remained? The apparent one perhaps? But no! With the true world we have also abolished the apparent one.

(Noon; moment of the briefest shadow; end of the longest error; high point of humanity; INCIPIT ZARATHUSTRA. [“Zarathustra begins”])

So, the argument is, there is no “true world” and no “apparent world” but only the world, the reality that we inhabit (and realization of this is the first step toward the Overman).

This would seem to be incompatible with the Melville/Ahab view.

An interpretation of Nietzsche’s views on this this subject:

Nietzsche’s How the ‘Real World’ at Last Became a Myth appears in Twilight of the Idols (1889). In this short, sequential, text he outlines what he subtitles as the “History of an Error”. The genealogy traces the notion of the division of the world into reality and appearance from its original mystic formulation (“I, Plato, am the Truth”), through the Platonic cave, the neo-platonist Christian interpretation, onto the Kantian noumenon and suprasensible ground of morality. From there, after it finds its most pure expression in the sterile Kantian thing-in-itself, the notion becomes increasingly suspect, culminating in its dismissal, and with it, the entire dichotomy of apparent/real, representation/thing-in-itself. Both the suprasensible “real world” and the apparent world of representation are overcome.

Nietzsche, with characteristic modesty, concludes that it is precisely at the moment when this millennia old metaphysical error has been completely eviscerated, with humanity now free from the specter of an all powerful beyond, that his text Thus Spoke Zarathustra truly begins.

Again, it would seem that Nietzsche is in opposition to Melville (I would have liked to see Nietzsche analyze Moby Dick).

As a STEM empiricist, I have an affinity for Nietzsche’s view. On the other hand, I still see value in Melville’s formulation. How to square the circle? Perhaps we need to review Melville’s description of the “unknown” as a “reasoning thing.” What if the known and unknown are both part of the same actuality?  The known is part of reality that we currently are able to perceive and the unknown is that we are currently unable to perceive but is still a real part of that same reality, something that could in theory be perceived if we had the power to do so (whether or not it is realistically possible for humans to ever have this power is itself currently an unknown).  What if this “unknown” is not so much a “reasoning thing” but some manifestation of nature and nature’s laws that we cannot yet perceive?  But, then again, maybe there is some “reasoning thing” involved but something that is not supernatural or part of a hidden “true” world but, again, is a manifestation of a reality that is hidden from us simply because we currently do not have the power to perceive it. Modern scientific philosophy has some interesting ideas related to this approach to Melville's views.  See this.  And this. 

Thus, is the “unknown but still reasoning” thing a part of our reality that has an inherent consciousness of which we have heretofore been unaware?

So, Nietzsche is, in my opinion, correct that there is a reality that is material and that could in theory be empirically determined, that there is no “true” vs “apparent” world, but as part of reality are things that we cannot (yet) perceive and that act (or seem to act) towards us in ways akin to Ahab’s complaint about hidden actors whose presence can make themselves known through certain events.

Toward an Analysis of Fascist Fiction

Brassillach, Celine, and Drieu La Rochelle.

See this. That is a scholarly analysis of the writing style and perspectives of three prominent French fascist fiction authors of the inter-war period, and how those styles and perspectives differ from that of the political fiction written by leftist authors.  You are encouraged to read the entire manuscript. 

This article is available in:

Studies in 20th Century Literature: https://newprairiepress.org/sttcl/vol10/iss1/7

TOWARD AN ANALYSIS OF FASCIST FICTION:

THE CONTEMPTUOUS NARRATOR IN THE

WORKS OF BRASILLACH, CELINE AND

DRIEU LA ROCHELLE

MARY JEAN GREEN

Dartmouth College

Excerpts (emphasis added) and my comments:

Three important French novelists of the same period, however, identified themselves with fascism. Of these, the writer who has consistently claimed the greatest attention is Louis-Ferdinand Celine, whose creation of a unique literary language has inspired a constant stream of critical studies. The reputation of Robert Brasillach suffered to some extent from his execution as a collaborator in 1945, but his memory has been kept alive by a loyal coterie of friends and admirers, including his brother-in-law, the literary scholar Maurice Bardeche. Pierre Drieu la Rochelle, known for a long time primarily as the author of Le Feu follet (1931), the novel of decadence made into a film by Louis Malle, has, within the last decade, inspired a number of new critical and biographical studies. There have, however, been few attempts to undertake a general analysis of the nature of French fascist fiction. This is in part because the notion of fascism itself is hard to pin down, existing as it did in many different manifestations.

Yes, but all of those manifestations center on Roger Griffin’s “palingenetic ultra-nationalism.” Thus, palingenesis, rebirth, in the context of the Far Right, from a “nationalist” perspective, underlies the fascist worldview.

In my reading, these texts exhibit the repeated use of a distanced, even contemptuous, narrative voice, a technique which can be clearly related to a recognized feature of fascist ideology and which serves to distinguish these texts written under the sign of fascism from the fiction inspired by an ideology of the Left.

Given the tropism of fascism for elitism, hierarchy, the superior individual, with a disdain for “last man” perspectives, and a disgust with herd conformism toward liberal concepts, it is perfectly understandable that there is a “distanced, even contemptuous, narrative voice” – the fascist does not find common ground with the sheep-like masses; even a populist, collectivist fascism is hierarchical, with a view toward overcoming.  A palingenetic individual will of course view a degenerate society with contempt, with a sense of distance.

Celine, of course, is the extreme case: he is as hard to pin down in his pamphlets as he is in his fiction, and the only elements that seem to emerge clearly from the ideological chaos of his texts is a hysterical fear of war and a violent hatred of the Jew, who becomes an outsized figure summing up all the forces of oppression in the modern world.

That seems a reasonable summation by Celine, particularly when looking at actual history and actual group behavior.

Drieu and Brasillach, at least, manage to discuss politics in standard expository prose required by their work as essayists and journalists. Even so, their political programs seem commonly to defy analysis. Speaking of Drieu, Brasillach and others of their colleagues, Raoul Girardet observes: . . . fascism corresponds much more exactly to what could more appropriately be called a romanticism. . . . The attraction of fascism is above all that of a few great affective themes of a certain form of lyricism, the exaltation of certain sentimental and moral values. It is to the forces of the passions, it is to the imagination and the sensibility that French fascism aims primarily to address itself.' Girardet's conclusion is a common one, shared by almost all those who attempt to submit these works to serious political analysis.

The above paragraph has a stench of polemical anti-fascism about it, but it is true that fascism is much more about aesthetic values than are the creeds of the Left.  Thus:

In his political biography of Brasillach, William R. Tucker makes a similar point: it is significant, in this context that he never attempted to formulate a definition of fascism. . . . At the same time, however, his intuitive approach to politics prompted an awareness that fascism was as much a response to the movement of time, a style, and a feeling of exhilaration, as it was a political creed."'

Again, this is unfair in the sense of the extreme view in which these ideas are taken to their conclusion, seemingly stripping fascism of any core ideology or serious political content. However, again, there is some truth to the idea that of the various ideological permutations of 20th century world politics, fascism, compared to its rivals, was the one most concerned with style, feeling, and becoming, than with stale ideological dogma. Fascism does have a core, as elucidated by Griffin, and fascist ideology derives from that. But fascism was never about the navel-gazing, turgid, ideological minutiae of, say, Marxism.

The quest for precise statements on political or social issues has already been undertaken by a number of critics, and it has done little to bring out elements of commonality to fascist fiction. The most extensive study of these three writers has been undertaken by Tarmo Kunnas (Drieu la Rochelle, Celine, Brasillach et la tentation fasciste), who examines their views on fifteen issues identified with fascism. Not surprisingly, he finds differences among the three French fascists on almost every item. 

Fascism cannot be broken down into any “fifteen issues" – that is a leftist-style view.  Fascism is palingenetic ultra-nationalism, and within that context, fascism can be fairly protean, with various manifestations.

My approach, therefore, will be a different one. I will examine their fiction for evidence of the use of similar fictional techniques, techniques which might serve to differentiate works produced under the sign of fascism from treatments of often similar subjects produced by major writers of the Left in the 1930s. Taking as a possible point of departure what is perhaps the most striking feature of the phenomenon of European fascism in the inter-war years, we might expect to find in the fiction techniques that make possible the expression of a collective exhilaration, a mass movement of immense vitality.

So, we understand the perspective of this analysis – more on style and perspective than on specific ideological talking points. Very well.

In Les Sept Couleurs (1939), one of his protagonists is impressed by the collective spirit which animates the Nazi youth camps and the Nuremberg rallies and by the spontaneous popular enthusiasm for the Italian fascist regime. It is this eminently fascist spirit of collective enthusiasm that the narrator (and Brasillach) would most like to see in France, uniting the various classes and allowing them to transcend their mundane lives. In his posthumously-published work, Les Captifs, written in 1940, Brasillach's pro-fascist protagonist is even able to participate in an analogous experience in the French right-wing riots of February 1934. 

“…eminently fascist spirit of collective enthusiasm…” – that describes the collectivist nature of fascism; it is not the ideal of the lowest common denominator (contra Evola’s objections of fascism’s mass nature) but a collective enthusiasm for national overcoming, represented in its purest form by an elite at the top of the societal hierarchy. Of course, all in society can contribute to, and partake in, this overcoming, but the hierarchy exists and the popular enthusiasm typically revolve around charismatic leaders – superior individuals.

Collective experience, in fact, seems to be more a property of the fiction of the Left. The influence of Jules Romains's unanimisme is felt strongly in Nizan's Le Cheval de Troie (1935), for example, where a Communist crowd involved in a riot is described as a single entity, animated by a common will. Mass rallies receive a similarly positive portrayal at the conclusion of Aragon's Les Cloches de Bale (1934) and Les Beaux Quartiers (1936) and even among non Communist leftists like Malraux in L 'Espoir (1937) and Le Temps du mepris (1935). In several instances in the fiction of the Left, the protagonist is itself a group, whose destiny is the real subject of the work.

More on this below, but an executive summary – the Left is anti-hierarchical, caters to the lowest common denominator, and is founded on “last man” values.  The Left disdains the individual and individual initiative and views humanity through the lens of impersonal historical processes – akin to the mass-based “psychohistory” in the science fiction books of the Jew Asimov (the Mule is the only redeeming character in those books – the mutant whose individual abilities upsets the historical process applecart).

Rather than emphasizing a collective experience, the fascist fiction here under consideration repeatedly presents the perspective of a narrator or protagonist who is clearly distanced from those around him. Moreover, this narrator/protagonist tends to view other characters with an attitude of condescension, even of contempt. Brasillach, the champion of fascist camaraderie, might seem to present an exception to this contention, especially in his later novels. But when they are not dealing with a small group of kindred souls, Brasillach's narrators exhibit the same remote and contemptuous attitudes found in the more solitary protagonists of Celine and Drieu. 

I write about this more below, but an executive summary – fascist ideology and aesthetic, valuing higher, noble values, founded on palingenesis, aimed at overcoming, would, as a matter of course, view liberal democratic/leftist values with disdain, and have “an attitude of condescension, even of contempt” for The Last Man. Why should any of that come as a surprise?  Consider that “distance” your typical White nationalist of today has for all around him.

The era of the Great Depression, not surprisingly, witnessed a resurgence of the social novel, which had been out of literary fashion since the eclipse of Zola and the naturalists at the end of the nineteenth century. This resurgence was accompanied by a number of manifestos and movements, such as the "populist" and "proletarian" schools of literature and, of course, the ever-evolving doctrines of the Communists. As might have been expected, many of the works that constituted this new "literature of the people" were sympathetic to the goals and ideals of the Left. However, Celine also, quite naturally, set his two novels of the 1930s, Voyage au bout de la nuit (1932) and Mort a credit (1936), in the milieu of the Parisian petite bourgeoisie and working classes in which he had spent his life. Brasillach seemed simply to enjoy observing the inhabitants of the poor districts of Paris where he had lived as a student,6 and he made them the subject of two of his novels of the same period, L'Enfant de la nuit (1934) and Le Marchand d'oiseaux (1936). Although they are set in similar lower-class districts of Paris, Celine's and Brasillach's novels depict radically different worlds. Brasillach's fictional universe seems drawn from the Rene Clair musicals he so admired and is certainly closer to fairy tale and ballet than to the sordid realism of the naturalists. Celine's novelistic vision, on the other hand, turns the same Parisian reality into a nightmare world of asphyxiation and putrefaction…

I have to admit I laughed when I read “a nightmare world of asphyxiation and putrefaction.”  But there is political meaning to that – to a real fascist, the degenerate and corrupt societies produced by liberal democracy, societies inhabited and led by “last men,” are akin to “a nightmare world of asphyxiation and putrefaction.”

…where the inhabitants carry on hostilities that parallel and even surpass those of the Great War. Despite these differences, the ideological stance which emerges from these novels is strikingly similar. At first glance, they seem relatively unburdened by ideological freight, unlike much of the social fiction of the Left. They lack the didactic tone that characterizes, in particular, Communist writers like Nizan and Aragon, and they seem free even of the commitment to improving the lot of the poor which is apparent in all the fiction of the Left. 

However, the portrayal of the lower classes in the fiction of Brasillach and Celine is almost unrelievedly negative. Many of the working-class characters in all four novels are shown to be slovenly, alcoholic, and brutal, if not openly homicidal. 

Truthful depictions?

The negative view of the lower-class milieu found in the social novel of the Right is the consequence of a distance that separates reader and characters. This distance is established through the interposition of an observing intelligence who is not identified with the lower-class setting and who mediates the reader's perception of events. 

At least in fascist fiction this is done openly and honestly, as opposed to heavy-handed leftist writing that pushes an enforced identification of all with the lowest strata of society.

Celine's narrator/protagonists are not totally insensitive to the importance of economic factors. It was for this reason that his first novel, Voyage, was warmly received by critics of the Left. While economic deprivation makes the characters' lives unpleasant, however, it does not really seem to account for the perversity of their actions, which seem rather to result from tendencies inherent in their natures. This impression is made explicit in the many misanthropic aphorisms that punctuate Celine's texts. 

The Right prioritizes inherent human nature and, unlike the Left, does not use excuses to justify subhuman behavior.  As part of the rightist worldview, nature trumps nurture.

While Brasillach uses narrative strategies different from Celine's in his two social novels, he is careful to maintain a similar distancing. In L'Enfant de la nuit the first-person narrator, named Robert B., is an unemployed interior decorator who has come to live in their poor district of Vaugirard while he is temporarily down on his luck (naturally, he leaves as soon as he gets another job). His background and education raise him above the people he describes, and he observes them with the bemused and tolerant fascination of an outsider-mirroring the position of Brasillach himself when he lived in the same district. 

As in the case of Celine, however, many of Brasillach's characters who live in equally deprived circumstances are able to lead lives of devotion to moral and aesthetic ideals. These people may be said to constitute an aristocracy of the poor in his work, and they are the characters upon whom his narrators lavish their attention. 

The Far Right values personal responsibility, noble values, and self-overcoming; hence, characters from poorer origins who exemplify these traits will be valued.

The narrative distance found in Celine and Brasillach is not at all characteristic of the Left-oriented social novels of the 1930s. In general, the narrative strategies adopted by writers of the non Communist Left correspond to the well-known definition of the "populist" novel put forth by Gabriel Marcel: "a novelist is populist insofar as, taking as heroes men of the people, he succeeds in preserving with respect to them a non-spectacular attitude. . . . They become not only 'you' but `we.’

The Left reduces all to the lowest common denominator, “last man” values – we must all identify with the mass; here, collectivism is suffocating and claustrophobic, no healthy “distance” and perspective is allowed.

The omniscient narrator of the Communists, however, could always be counted upon to adopt what has been called the proletarian point of view." While the Communist writers of the 1930s do not limit themselves to portraying only the working classes, a Communist novel which does do so, Nizan's Le Cheval de Troie, adopts as its privileged point of view the perspective of the Communist worker group. 

Communist fiction can be viewed as a very rigidly ideological form of political polemic, lacking in imagination and in contextual subtlety.

…in Celine's description of the urban settings, certain features are stressed and restressed until they take on the exaggerated nightmare qualities of the Celinian fictional universe. In the opening description of the Paris suburb of La Garenne-Rancy-already well-described by its name, which evokes a rancid atmosphere and hunted rabbits-the page overflows with vocabulary relating to slimy excrement. The same is true of the description of the Passage des Beresinas in Mort a credit, where the clients urinate on the shopkeepers and where the father spends his time shoveling shit. Everything with which Celine's narrators come into contact is deformed by a vision that seeks out and exaggerates the most repugnant features. 

From the fascist perspective, degenerate liberal democratic society, particularly one afflicted with Jewish-derived values, can be represented in such stark terms, and the features can be exaggerated to make the contrast to a more ideal society more distinct.

Brasillach, too, moves away from simple realism in rather the opposite direction. His vision tends to play down or entirely overlook ugliness, to mute colors, to bring out hidden beauty. His preferred time of day in these Parisian novels is twilight, and his attention is attracted especially by the unusual and picturesque-like the bird-peddler or the shoemaker-poet-rather than by the typical or mundane. 

This can be viewed as a form of fascist aesthetic.

Unlike Celine's fiction and some of Brasillach's, Drieu's novels are set in the world of wealth and political power which he himself frequented. The French masses are not at the center of his vision. On the few occasions when his protagonist is forced to confront them, however, he characteristically reacts with contempt and disgust…The first-person narrator of La Comedie de Charleroi is a veteran, returning to the Charleroi battlefield after the war with the mother of a dead comrade. Despite her total inability to comprehend the experience of war (a charge which had become a commonplace of war fiction), this woman, aided by her wealth, has made a career out of being the mother of a dead soldier, an enterprise for which the narrator does not attempt to conceal his disgust. By focusing on her, the novella shows power in French society being exercised by a character who is both a Jew and a woman, both perversions of the natural order according to Drieu. 

This part - "a Jew and a woman, both perversions of the natural order according to Drieu” – can we really blame Drieu for that perspective? Now, with respect to “Jew” this is understandable from a (European-derived) fascist perspective – Jewish identity and the “Jewish soul” are viewed as profoundly alien, and thus a perversion of the natural order in any European, Western society.  As regards women in general, one needs to remember fascism has a much masculinized political aesthetic and thus from the standpoint of inherent superior human values, contextualized as male, women would represent a perversion. But a White woman is not, or should not be, a perversion of the natural order the same as a Jew – the Jew is a perversion in totality form the Western fascist perspective (early Jewish supporters of Italian fascism notwithstanding), while women represent a perversion only from the narrow perspective of the male-oriented hierarchical perspective – there is a hierarchy of sex (male dominant) just as there is one of ethny and civilization and one of superior and inferior individuals.

Gilles's contempt is frequently directed against women characters who, as was the case with Mme Pragen, are often chosen as representatives of larger social groups." This is a technique also used to some extent by Celine, particularly in his distorted portrayal of Lola, the rich American volunteer in Voyage. In Gilles the protagonist's first wife Myriam is the Jewish intellectual, complete with unbecoming glasses…

Can you blame one for having contempt for a Jewess?

Drieu's work, like Caine's, ends with his protagonist isolated from others by his own choice. But this profound isolation has been inherent in the narrative voice from its first appearance. Brasillach's protagonists, too, are cut off from all but a few worthy souls by an attitude of innate superiority. The use of a distanced narrative voice that presents a denigrating view of all which comes within its purview is consequent with an important strain of French fascist thought. 

This contempt for the degeneracy of liberal democracy and its society and the disdain for “last man” values is part and parcel of the superior man’s overcoming; this isolation and contempt has some association with some of Nietzsche’s work, but while Nietzsche’s superior man works for his own overcoming only, that of the fascist man works in the direction of serving is people (even with whatever “distance” he may have from and for them).

Despite the importance of collectivism for German national-socialism, Italian fascism, and even the French right-wing philosophy articulated by Marechal Petain, the three French fascist writers remain profoundly individualistic, as Tarmo Kunnas shows with reference to their political statements. But, Kunnas continues, what is at issue here is less a matter of individualism than of an attitude toward social hierarchy. One aspect of fascism that appears strongly in the work of all three writers is its anti-egalitarianism: It is the antidemocratic spirit, the spirit of hierarchy, which, along with corporatism, dominated the whole of fascist ideology. This antiegalitarian thought attracted our writers much more than the antiindividualism, because they think less of individual liberty than of the liberty of superior individuals. They are convinced that men are not equal…

As part of the fascist ideology and the fascist attitude – the fascist political aesthetic – collectivism is actualized only in the context of hierarchy. It is an individualist form of collectivism – not an oxymoron in this sense – in which the aspirations of the collective are achieved at least in part by the exertions of superior men.  But the collective foundation remains because the superior man works in the interests of his collective – despite (or perhaps because of?) is feelings of distance and contempt for society.

Much the same is true of Sartre's Lucien Fleurier, protagonist of his novella about the evolution of a fascist, "L'Enfance d'un chef." Here, too, the narrator is cut off from the world, and, as he finds his identity with a group of young fascists-much like those idealized by Brasillach-he develops the characteristic attitude of contempt, which finds its natural expression, as with Nizan, in the savage beating of a dark-skinned foreigner. The story ends with Lucien, revelling in his bright new self-image, watching the crowd in a Paris café: All those dagos were floating in a dark heavy liquid whose ripples nudged their soft flesh, picking up their arms, moving their fingers, playing with their lips. The poor guys! Lucien almost felt sorry for them. 

Well, that three sentences are certainly consistent with a Type I fetishist Nutzi “movement” mentality.  Of course, from a British “the wogs begin at Calais” viewpoint, Lucien is just as bad as a “dago.”  Of course, note that this was written by Sartre, a hard leftist, projecting his own views of what a fascist is, rather than being an authentic expression of fascist sensibilities.

In their portraits of fascists, Nizan and Sartre implicitly recognize that a fascist mentality is not just a set of political beliefs but a question of attitude. In the work of Brasillach, Celine and Drieu, this attitude is embedded deeply in the fiction.

Some we come full circle here to the meaning of fascism as reflected by the work of these three authors.  Fascism does have an ideology and a set of political beliefs, but it is more than this – it is also an “attitude.” One can say that about any political ideology I suppose, but it is particularly true of fascism; no other political ideology is as dependent on attitude, on aesthetics, on feeling, on an innate sense of right and wrong than is fascism. In this sense, fascism is the political ideology most akin to religion, it is that ideology most dependent on faith and the least dependent on (as is Marxism) on rigid ideological formulas.