How Scientology Could School the Neoreaction

A couple of years back I wrote a piece at The Mitrailleuse, Opus Dei Could School the Neoreaction, of which the eminent Nick. B. Steves wrote, “He gets very much very right.”  High praise.

Recently I read Anti-Puritan’s post Scientology, training routines, and the post-rationalization of abuse and it occurred to me that Scientology also might “school” the NRx and that my personal knowledge-set made me the man to write about it. As I commented:

 I have a good deal of knowledge of Scientology, and a somewhat different take on the results of these exercises. Enough to finally do a new post on my own blog, which will appear in a day or two.

As that was approximately 26 days ago, let’s just say that I was pondering all this time about the right approach.

Ars longa est.

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The Right Sort of Reactionary Fiction

I’ve been writing a novel, Sanity, for several months and passed 37,000 words into it yesterday. Originally I just wanted to get to 50,000 as a respectable length for a fairly short novel, but it feels like now it’s going to be 55-60,00 and I expect the draft to be completed in 3-4 weeks.

I shared an excerpt in April–I’ve since improved that section, but the post will stay as is. Writing a novel is a beautiful experience. It’s something I thought about a lot over the years, all the way back to when I was a teenager. Several times I wrote a page or two of notes and ideas (I have some I jotted between 16-hours shifts on a fishing boat in Bristol Bay, Alaska in 2000), but writing a book is just one of those things where planning is often just a way to avoid action.

Finally, someone on Twitter asked “who’s going to be the Tom Wolfe of the Dark Enlightenment/Red Pill” and I decided, I will. Thus, the book.

Almost every reactionary/DE/redpill site and commentator has at one time or another bemoaned the Left’s control of infotainment and media and suggested the Right needs to produce more stuff, good stuff, more fiction, more art with alternate points of view. Certainly some have actually done something about it; an example is Ephrem Antony Gray, poet laureate and editor at Social Matter. Since the 70s there has been some generally libertarian-themed science fiction that sold well, and was well-written. There has been very little that I know of that might be described as “Reactionary.”

In 2016 scientist/inventor Hans G. Schantz published The Hidden Truth, which he recently followed up with A Rambling Wreck. I think these novels are excellent and not only should you buy and read them, you should give them to your sons and daughters and their friends. I don’t claim to know exactly how Hans would describe his political/social philosophy, but the books have specific parts and points I’d call Game, pro-liberty, traditional honor and anti-Cathedralism. Also quite entertaining and satisfying as novels. That’s the point that needs emphasis.

I set out writing my book with “Tom Wolfe of the Dark Enlightenment/Red Pill” in mind but I knew from page 1 that preaching it wouldn’t work. What’s needed is an interesting story and interesting characters. What’s needed is what any good novel needs, making the reader care about what happens next.

What I’ve found is that if you just write the story, there are plenty of opportunities to slip the Dark Enlightenment and the Red Pill and whatever other points you want to make in as a natural part of the narrative. Here’s a brief example from my book:

“To answer your next question, I’m with what used to be called the Office of Special Investigations at the Department of Justice. It was set up back in the 70s to find and prosecute war criminals, that is, Nazis in the United States. It had great independent powers, more than anything else in Justice—investigation, litigation, subpoena, negotiating with foreign governments, right on through prosecutions. Greater independence than anything else in the whole federal government.

“They caught a few Nazis over the years, but they also had some problems, got a little too chummy with the Soviets during the 80s, screwed up a couple of cases. Eventually, the Nazis were almost all dead. So a few years ago they merged OSI with a couple other specialized divisions into something called the Special Prosecutions Section. Supposedly, the main thrust of the office is to go after our newer generation of war criminals, African warlords kidnapping child soldiers, that sort of thing.

“The reality is that the SPS is pretty much a cover for something else. There are eight career prosecutors who spend most of their time documenting human rights abuses in 100 and something countries. All of them are mediocrities from the bottom half of their tier-two law school classes.”

He chuckles. “They’ve gotten in one successful prosecution in four years, some sociopath who worked his child slaves to death mining diamonds in an African shithole. He was dumb enough to get arrested in Greece for beating up a hooker and extradited over here. Aside from reports, that’s what they’ve managed to accomplish, but nobody in Congress looks too close because, human rights!”

By now we’re on to the 66, headed over the Roosevelt Bridge to Virginia. He changes lanes to find an opening in the traffic and speeds up, looks over.

“The real work is me, two other guys, and the Section Chief. She’s ex-CIA. The three of us are ‘investigators.’ None of us are lawyers.

“In fact, Cal, we’re all ex-Special Operations Command. One Air Force, one Green Beret and me; I was in the SEAL teams for eight years.”

He smiles, showing some teeth.

“I hope the Marines don’t mind too much that I used them as cover. Fools think ‘Marine’ and ‘not too bright’ go together somehow. Anyway, it was something no one would pay special attention too, like they do SEALs.

“We have no name, no special place on an org chart, and as far as anyone knows we’re assisting the investigation of human rights violations around the world. It gives us good reasons to travel when needed. Sometimes we’re called on to eliminate threats that are imminent, that can’t be taken care of through normal channels. No memos, no paperwork, no phone records. You’re a smart guy. I know I don’t need to say more.”

I hope this post will inspire at least one person who has wanted to write a novel to get going on it–“Reactionary” or not. It’s not what I’m working on now, but the “Young Adult” category might be particularly fruitful. Robert A. Heinlein influenced a generation of bright young boys and girls, and helped inspire a Moon landing.

We could help inspire a generation to think clearly, protect its heritage, save its societies from invasion and dissolution, produce a new generation. Given those stakes, it’s worth a try.

An Excerpt from My Novel “Sanity”

Awhile back someone on Twitter asked who was going to be the Tom Wolfe of the Dark Enlightenment/Red Pill (I’ll find it and give credit in due time). I decided it might as well be me, and I’ve been working on it for some weeks now. It will probably be mid-summer before it’s published, but while we wait for the fruits here’s a sample (yeah, my fictional style is different, and yeah, it’s present tense and no, it’s not the final edit):

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My Latest at The Mitrailleuse: Backward Causality and the Current Year

Backward-downward-causation-in-neuro-biological-processes-on-the-basis-of

One of the best things about getting older is that the “amusement quotient” increases, almost geometrically…

Read the rest at The Mitrailleuse

Heinlein’s “Gulf”, The Dark Triad and Sanity

Homo Novis

I’ve made a few posts here about the writer Robert A. Heinlein and his immense influence on my weltanschauung; while in my maturity I don’t agree with everything he wrote and stood for, to my child self devouring his works circa 1971 he bestrode the world as a Colossus. His “juveniles” written from the late 1940s through the late 50s inspired a generation of bright young boys to put Americans on the Moon. He emphasized duty, honor, work, intelligence and grit, and his ability to draw the reader into strange new worlds and make them seem possible and, indeed, plausible, was unique.

The novella Gulf was quite unusual, for Heinlein or any writer, in its conception and execution. In the November 1948 issue of Astounding Science Fiction a letter had been published critiquing the…November 1949 issue. As editor John Campbell wrote:

“Generally, a desirable, practically attainable idea, suggested in prophecy, has a chance of forcing itself into reality by its very existence. Like, for example, this particular issue of Astounding Science Fiction.”

A good explanation of the “Prophecy” issue of the magazine is here. In the event, Heinlein was asked to write Gulf, having been given nothing but a title. The result was something that has fascinated me as much or more than anything else he ever produced, despite his multiple Hugo awards and best-sellers later in his career.

Gulf is available free (and legally) online now, so if you’re not familiar with it, here you go. You don’t have to read it to get the rest of this post, but I suggest you do. There are enough new, intriguing ideas in this brief novella to keep you thinking about it for a long time: an artificial, highly compressed, efficient and logical language (“Speed-talk”); a secret society of “Supermen” working behind the scenes to discover and regulate major scientific and technological discoveries; bar codes (in 1949!); but what I note here is focus, mental attitude, and what are now called “Dark Triad” traits and their usefulness in getting things done, rather than emoting and “virtue signaling.”

Intelligence Agent(s)

The details of the plot need not concern us, but if you haven’t read the story yet, our protagonist is one “Joseph Gilead” (pseud.), intelligence agent for a kind of future super-CIA. We begin cold, in the middle of a courier mission going bad:

When he had stepped out of the tube car he had been reasonably sure, first, that the persona of Joel Abner, commercial traveler, had not been penetrated, and, second, that the transition from Abner to Gilead had been accomplished without arousing suspicion. The pocket-picking episode had not alarmed him, but had caused him to reclassify those two propositions from calculated certainties to unproved variables. He had proceeded to test them at once; they were now calculated certainties again—of the opposite sort. Ever since he had spotted his erstwhile porter, the New Age runner, as standing outside this same drugstore his subconscious had been clanging like a burglar alarm.

It was clear not only that he had been spotted but that they were organized with a completeness and shrewdness he had not believed possible.

We’re bombarded these days with “scientific research” that purports to prove that we don’t actually make rational decisions about most things, most of the time; we make emotional, instinctual, subconscious decisions and then consciously rationalize and invent reasons for why they’re good. Perhaps this is true for most people, most of the time. However, instead of saying “that’s just the way people are,” should not we instead be taking action to improve on this ridiculously low standard of thought?

On to our next quote/lesson:

Joe, what is a man? What is man that makes him more than an animal? Settle that and we’ll take a crack at defining a superman—or New Man, homo novis, who must displace homo sapiens—is displacing him—because he is better able to survive than is homo sap. I’m not trying to define myself, I’ll leave it up to my associates and the inexorable processes of time as to whether or not I am a superman, a member of the new species of man—same test to apply to you.”

“Me?”

“You. You show disturbing symptoms of being homo novis, Joe, in a sloppy, ignorant, untrained fashion. Not likely, but you just might be one of the breed. Now—what is man? What is the one thing he can do better than animals which is so strong a survival factor that it outweighs all the things that animals of one sort or another can do much better than he can?”

“He can think.”

“I fed you that answer; no prize for it. Okay, you pass yourself off a man; let’s see you do something. What is the one possible conceivable factor—or factors, if you prefer—which the hypothetical superman could have, by mutation or magic or any means, and which could be added to this advantage which man already has and which has enabled him to dominate this planet against the unceasing opposition of a million other species of fauna? Some factor that would make the domination of man by his successor, as inevitable as your domination over a hound dog? Think, Joe. What is the necessary direction of evolution to the next dominant species?”

Gilead engaged in contemplation for what was for him a long time. There were so many lovely attributes that a man might have: to be able to see both like a telescope and microscope, to see the insides of things, to see throughout the spectrum, to have hearing of the same order, to be immune to disease, to grow a new arm or leg, to fly through the air without bothering with silly gadgets like helicopters or jets, to walk unharmed the ocean bottom, to work without tiring—

Yet the eagle could fly and he was nearly extinct, even though his eyesight was better than man’s. A dog has better smell and hearing; seals swim better, balance better, and furthermore can store oxygen. Rats can survive where men would starve or die of hardship; they are smart and pesky hard to kill. Rats could—

Wait! Could tougher, smarter rats displace man? No, it just wasn’t in them; too small a brain.

“To be able to think better,” Gilead answered almost instantly.

I fed you that answer; no prize for it.

Illusions and Their Discontents

Those of you follow me on Twitter know I’m an admirer of Scott Adams and have often linked articles like this one, “The Illusion of Knowledge“:

And so we have an odd situation in which both sides of the debate are in deep illusion, even if one side is right and the other is wrong. The illusion is that one side is obviously correct – and the belief that you could see that too, if only you would spend a little energy looking into it on your own. If you hold that belief, no matter which side you are on, you can be sure you are experiencing an illusion.

Adams also talks a lot about hallucinating certainty, about how when it comes to persuasion, emotion/ beats tribe/ beats mere facts.

But none of this ought to apply to Heinlein’s homo novis, who by definition must think better, a whole lot better, than the average emotionally driven tribalistic LDD (Little Deluded Dupe), and not just about one thing but about many things, about reality.

As convincing a persuader as Scott Adams is, I’m not convinced by radical subjectivism. We don’t live in an “illusion” after all, though most live, much of the time, “inside their own head.” I’m still of the solid conviction that the world is hard, and you are soft; that if you jump off the Empire State Building, you are going to die. If you’re really lucky, you won’t look so bad afterward…

evelyn-mchale

A Perfect Landing

 

Mostly you won’t be so lucky.

There is indeed a Gulf, between a Peter Thiel and the “average” #AltRight shitposter doing it for lulz (i.e., emotional reasons), between a John von Neumann and a professor of “Womyn’s Studies.” Many of our “cognitive elite” are elite in only their specialized disciplines, though. Picture Einstein and his childish socialism.

Of a Vital and Necessary Hardness

Thinking better has never been and never will be replaceable. Neither will the “Dark Triad” traits of Psychopathy, Machiavellianism and Narcissism–properly understood. I touched on this in an earlier piece, The Good Psychopath, the Dark Triad Man and Me, and won’t go into detail here, but it struck me when reading Gulf how Gilead exhibits these traits, always at the appropriate time:

Mrs. Keithley pursed her lips. “Frankly, I do not expect to learn anything from her. I may learn something from you.”

“I see.”

The leader of the two men looked questioning at his mistress; she motioned him to go ahead. The girl stared blankly at him, plainly unaware of the uses of the equipment he had gotten out. He and his partner got busy.

Shortly the girl screamed, continued to scream for a few moments in a high adulation. Then it stopped as she fainted.

They roused her and stood her up again. She stood, swaying and staring stupidly at her poor hands, forever damaged even for the futile purposes to which she had been capable of putting them. Blood spread down her wrists and dripped on a plastic tarpaulin, placed there earlier by the second of the two men.

Gilead did nothing and said nothing. Knowing as he did that the tube he was protecting contained matters measured in millions of lives, the problem of the girl, as a problem, did not even arise. It disturbed a deep and very ancient part of his brain, but almost automatically he cut that part off and lived for the time in his forebrain.

Consciously he memorized the faces, skulls, and figures of the two men and filed the data under “personal.” Thereafter he unobtrusively gave his attention to the scene out the window He had been noting it all through the interview but he wanted to give it explicit thought. He recast what he saw in terms of what it would look like had he been able to look squarely out the window and decided that he was on the ninety-first floor of the New Age Hotel and approximately one hundred and thirty meters from the north end. He filed this under “professional”.

This is hard-edged stuff. The very fate of the world is at stake, but I’m sure your average 2017 Ivy League undergrad would diagnose Gilead as a monster. He ought to at least break down into sobs, vomit, and need drugs and therapy for the PTSD, afterward.

There is indeed a Gulf, between a U.S. Army Ranger and a Social Justice Warrior, even, perhaps, between a Rex Tillerson and a John Kerry. My examples are not perfect, but I’m sure you get the point.

Us “HBDers” understand well that the thinking part of homo novis is mostly genetic and not very amenable to training. The attitude part, the detachment from crippling and useless sympathy, the maximization of one’s physical assets, are.

As you can tell, I have a special fascination with this story and again, urge you to read it. If not, well, take the previous paragraph under serious advisement.

Sanity: A Change in Title and Direction

As of today, the blog is retitled “Sanity in the Diamond Age.” While I still have a distinct fondness for the term, and the ideas, of “Neoreaction” and “NRx” I don’t find myself so interested in writing about them at present.

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The Good Psychopath, the Dark Triad Man and Me (Update)

(WARNING: This post contains liberal doses of personal story and very little “theory.” Use at your own risk)

hex23-a

23. Po / Splitting Apart:

Six in the third place means:
He splits with them. No blame.

An individual finds himself in an evil environment to which he is
committed by external ties. But he has an inner relationship with a superior
man, and through this he attains the stability to free himself from the way of
the inferior people around him. This brings him into opposition to them of
course, but that is not wrong.

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