Life and death are inescapably intertwined. Life feeds and flourishes upon death, whether directly, as with the cunning predator who feasts upon its slain quarry, or indirectly, as the docile frugivore who consumes the fruits brought forth by the decay of the countless lifeforms that create the loam. Life in turn must eventually surrender itself to its dissolution in death, struck down by the predation of beast, disease, or time’s entropy — the vital substance is transmuted into the sustenance that nourishes new life, and so the cycle continues in perpetuity, so long as life persists in the universal schema.
One of the most interesting perspectives I garnered from an academic tome called Evil Incarnate by Dr. David Frankfurter was how one of the universal characteristics of state/civil societies is to redact and rigidly codify the “supernatural” or “magical” beliefs of its subjects. That in and of itself was an obvious phenomena to me long before I read said book — the interpretatio romana, for instance, is one of the most salient examples of such a practice, of the authorities of a conquering state appropriating the local gods of conquered/subjugated peoples and equating them to a Roman god that generally, at best, was a poor approximation, and at worst was complete error and obfuscation of the deity’s original functions. The purpose behind said-practice is primarily propaganderial, a power ploy — the gods of a particular, autonomous tribal people, and the sociopsychological and political identity and freedom of said distinct group that such gods guarantee or embody, are absorbed into or subsumed by the idols of another state. All the juicy bureaucracy built upon tithes and the shows of grovelling/worship that said idols demand in proving your submission which were formerly directed to the people’s own ruler/chieftain/holy men, if not being entirely absent (as in the case of more-egalitarian tribes or bands), are appended onto the cult and treasury of the imperial state, marking the end of a conquered people’s own independence of culture and destiny.Read More »
“Abashed the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is…” — Paradise Lost, Milton
One of the questions that unfailingly captivate the philosophical mind is that of the nature of right and wrong — good and evil. This fascination is arguably universal — that is, irrespective of culture, and irrespective of social class, this question of morality inevitably becomes a subject of intense scrutiny to the individual who regularly partakes in deep ruminations of thought. It could be argued as an emergent property of human psychology, this ageless fixation — and its ruptures increase in tandem to the increasing number of people within a society who no longer remember how to “live well.”Read More »
“I would only believe in a god who knew how to dance. And when I saw my devil, there I found him earnest, thorough, deep, and somber: it was the spirit of gravity — through him, all things fall…” —Thus Spake Zarathustra
One should not give much consideration to a “mythology” that does not provoke laughter with some regularity. Myth is — or originally, it was — the story of your blood, the blood of your people, and how it, via its most prominent avatars or champions, has made its way through the world and throughout time. So does the hero, an eponymous ancestor, struggle against and match wits with the best of the non-human powers, be they spirits or flesh-and-blood beasts, forging or negotiating a path forth for his descendants or those of his kin. So does the ancient Trickster, whether as a partly-human ancestor or a totemic creature or power closely aligned with the tribe’s genesis, go about his deeds of fooling the non-human powers in order to (or, at least incidentally) help or uplift the people who cherish his name. And thus the affectionate and filial titles some of these figures will be invoked with — “Father,” “Mother,” “Grandfather,” “Uncle,” “Old Man,” “Elder,” “Auntie,” and so on.
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It is not unfair to assert almost everything good in Christianity and its reign came from paganism. The pageantry picked up by the Church in the Middle Ages and which served as the cultural glue holding together most communities over its glory days were variously pagan or indigenous festivals, devices, and customs which persisted even after conversion, and, as those customs go, they were largely “practical,” i.e. they made sense of, and were derived from, the relevant world that is the local environment, local circumstances, local history. Thus comes the rich tapestry of various local cultures, cults, and customs throughout the Middle Ages — remnants or the legacy of those who lived by the “heath” and, as such, its biodiversity, which demands different cultures to live amongst it and utilise it. The Church merely inserted some of its cosmopolitan detritus into it all, enough to draw authority and tribute unto itself while generally not provoking the locals too much to protest the mythical redactions and the extra or redirected tier of taxation.Read More »
This is something of intuitive speculation, given that I have limited experience, and hence knowledge, with the subject matter — though I usually find I am rarely wrong when it comes to intuition. At any rate, a very influential thinker in primitivist circles, John Zerzan, recently took a jab during his podcast (May 29, 2018): “Space: The Final Socialist Frontier?” ) at a relatively late branch of anarchist thought known as “ontological anarchy.” If you have never heard of it, you have done well for yourself and it is quite natural, given that I, and I imagine most people, never heard of it and would never have heard of it until they happened to twist their ankle in a dark little internet rabbit hole while jaunting about on the fantasyscape of social media. Read More »
What follows are some of my thoughts concerning an article I read some months ago — with the thoughts likewise having being jotted down then, only in a truncated form. The article’s assertions I found very interesting, on a number of grounds. The paper is somewhat renowned in the field of sociocultural anthropology: “Knowledge of the Body” (1983), by Michael D. Jackson, published in the journal Man, 18(2). In it, Jackson details some of the observations he made whilst studying the Kuranko, a tribal people of Sierra Leone (Africa). He especially was concerned with the supposed “symbolic” nature of the Kuranko’s rites and dances, from which he comes to a number of conclusions that I would recommend be read and digested in the original article, which would do it far greater justice that my shorthandedly summarising all of it. I will at length focus on one assertion in particular: that in “preliterate” societies, there is a greater immediacy of the mind with the body and ultimately the environment, and this immediacy results in moral character — morality itself —being regarded as intimately tied to action and the actual structure of the body instead of words, written or spoken. Read More »
“Here, then, on all sides, this irreducible affinity, this tragic proximity between the warrior and death becomes clear. Victorious, he must immediately leave again for war in order to assure his glory with an even greater feat. But in ceaselessly testing the limits of the risk confronted and forging ahead for prestige he invariably meets this end: solitary death in the face of enemies. …There is no alternative for the warrior: a single outcome for him, death. His is an infinite task, as I was saying: what is proven here, in short, is that the warrior is never a warrior except at the end of his task, when, accomplishing his supreme exploit, he wins death along with absolute glory. Read More »
y the Weak, for the Weak.
Practically all modern or post-modern political philosophies — the “isms,” if you would — can be tagged with such an epithet. For the philosophy that vocally professes to concern itself with an exaltation of power and strength, fascism ironically doesn’t escape the pandering to and critical foundation upon the Weak, either. But first, to clarify: what is weakness? Who is “weak?” You of course will find various subjective definitions wherever you may turn; different cultures, sub-cultures, and philosophies have had their own standards for what qualifies as a vulnerability, a weakness, and who is Weak, by their very nature. We all have weaknesses, some the plain frailties of mortality, others a perceived physical inadequacy, others a moral failing in the eyes of society. And therein might we identify what weakness transcendently is, regardless of its diverse cultural incarnations and the mere condition of being mortal. A failing or an inadequacy, of which the inverse — adequacy — indicates something of necessity. That which is necessary, needful, to society and to the wider political sphere of “nature” — to the entirety of relations and interactions that defines one’s face, one’s honour. That which is born of decadence, moral and material — that which is not needful, and especially instead burdensome, and that which is not mindful of honour — that is transcendent weakness, with a greater decadence being a measure of greater decay and the diminishment of a society.
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