Cross-published on The Asylum

In my early youth, for reasons not completely clear to me, I was a member of the not-cool-kids. Our lowly caste was a jolly one, a band of misfits having a nice time. Interestingly, despite our lowliness, we had our own internal hierarchy. At the top were people like me – almost cool and equipped with partial access to the gatherings of the truly cool. At the bottom, we had the absolutely uncool. At the very bottom, there was a weirdo beyond uncoolness.

Our childish yet complex association was also supported by an innocent vow – all for one and one for all! Should any of us be harassed by the cool kids, all of us would rush to the injured party’s defense. This rule was taken for granted for some time until it was awkwardly put to the test. 

The attack was rather civilized – the cool kids had simply decided to completely ostracize one of us. No one would be allowed to utter a single word to him, he would be treated like a non-existent void. This should have been our chance: “All for one and one for all!” Challenge the cool kids, ignore their ostracism, fight the blasphemous power! Right?! Wrong. Unfortunately, the one to be ostracized was the weirdo at the bottom of the ladder. Why would we risk our station for that guy? 

Thus shamefully, we had obeyed our elite masters and did not stick out our necks on behalf of the poor weirdo. Why? “Well,” we explained to ourselves, “he is really annoying;” and besides, when we had imagined a defense pact it was supposed to be for kids like yours truly, or at least another almost-cool kid. It was never really intended for the bottom-of-the barrel losers.  “Doesn’t the annoying kid sort of had it coming anyhow?”

Outside the World of Abstractions

A person with some mileage knows the situation above is very common in life. We vow to love our child no matter what, yet we uncomfortably end up with a fat nerd. “I was supposed to attend baseball games, not trombone recitals!”

We make a pledge to always be by our mother’s side, imagining the nurturing angel of our youth, yet often when we are truly needed the angel is gone, only a shell remains, perhaps demented, requiring love and commitment that are much harder to give. 

Outside the world of abstractions, there is always a gap between our noble fantasies and the way they are tested. 

Yet virtue lies exactly in that gap.  

The Israel Problem

Since I am from Israel, the gap between my right-wing noble pledges and the way they are now tested in Israel is rather narrow. But for many on the Dissident Right the gap is obviously wide.

For years, even decades if you are a truly committed paleoconservative, we’ve been warning through essays and podcasts and memes that the great test for Western Man lies in his ability to fend off the threat of the masses of the Third World. “Billions must perish!” “The most important graph in the world!” We’ve been preparing our minds for the viciousness required for the protection of our borders, for the necessary cruelty of sending people away, of forcing them out, of killing when necessary. 

And here is a test at hand! Israel, a nation-state where people consume Frappuccinos and make software (meaning, a sort-of Western place), is attacked and can only survive by blocking out the Third World. Perhaps only by killing great numbers of the Third World’s masses. Why? To exist. There is no nice way to go about it. 

Yet on the Dissident Right, instead of a manly sentiment of “Finish them off no matter what!” we are mostly welcome to a menu of bizarre irony. “Oh, this is not our struggle” (as if anybody was asked to take up arms), “But what about our own border?” (as if two causes cannot be supported, at least morally, at the same time), “LOL Ben Shapiro takes the Hitl0r pill!” (as if the strongest motivation among our crowd is to not be Ben Shapiro). You know what I mean. 

I suspect this has to do with the phenomenon I described above – when we are tested, it is never in the way we had imagined the test. A Civilized World vs. Third World attack has come, but it is not an attack on the Sistine Chapel or the sublime cathedral at Rheims. It is not even an attack on Romania (are they even European? Seem quasi Turkish to me). Instead, it is an attack on dusty old Israel, with its perpetual appeals for aid and its coterie of boomer supporters from Dick Cheney to Nikki Hailey. Totally un-cool, totally not the way it was supposed to be! A Twitter knight of the West should stick out his neck for Venice, not for Petach Tikvah!

The Israel Problem?

Continuing the tale from my childhood, I should mention that I, the almost-cool-kid, was also eventually ostracized. Not immediately, but my genuine lack of coolness had gradually become more and more apparent until, due to a minor trespass, I forever lost my access to the truly cool. 

The struggles of the uncool are, alas, coming to a border near you. Near us. When Europe is flooded not by millions, but hundreds of millions, what do you think it will look like? Europe will have to violently put people on boats and ship them away. But nobody will take such people back, so Europe will have to conquer a bridgehead in Libya and force migrants to remain there. The bridgehead will surely be attacked by mortar and rocket fire and all sorts of terrorism, and thus it will have to be expanded and fortified. Almost like a settlement.

How do you think a sincere attempt to stave off mass migration in America is going to play out? Are you prepared? Innocent people will have to be put on trains and shipped off to Mexico. Mexico will surely resist, so we will have to conquer a security zone (how Lebanese) and block all migrants to remain there. The security zone will be constantly attacked by cartels, rogues, and the desperate hundreds of millions that will surely wash upon Mexico’s territory in a frantic attempt to cross north. 

If we are willing to protect our posterity in America and Europe, we must indeed steel ourselves. We need to cultivate an appropriate mindset. Israel is now the great rehearsal for this. We will eventually need to do precisely what Israel is trying to do. 

And so, while nobody should be expected to donate blood or treasure for the struggles of others, the manly reactionary sentiment, the dissident sentiment, should be “Let Israel finish them off!” If Israel succeeds, perhaps we can succeed too. If Israel succumbs under the pressure of “the international community,” a similar fate most likely awaits us here in the West. 

The Chandala Problem

While this august magazine is surely only visited by those of noble inclinations, I wanted to address a very un-noble phenomenon I’ve become acutely aware of. That is, the bright comet of our industrious podcasters and essayists drags behind a long tail of chandalas – an unattractive lowly throng of people who are “based” only in the sense of being of base origins and upbringing. 

I’ve discovered this reality mostly in discussions with Europeans and especially British people. Dwellers of the slums of Manchester who sound like oafs addicted to potato crisps and rent-control invoke “elite theory” against me, as self-christened experts on Pareto and Mosca.

Very quickly, thanks to probably an exposure to a few pages from Kevin MacDonald’s derivatives, these same people accuse me of “pilpul” and “subversion.” And shortly after the conversation devolves to wishes that I “drown in my own Jewish blood” or be “bled like a Jewish pig.” 

Meaning, at that chandala level, the “Knights of the West” become indistinguishable from any Mesopotamian e-girl named Tashfeen or Maleekah, ululating with passionate zeal about the destruction of the Jews. Indeed, in many such “dissident” Twitter spaces you find an agitated Irish “expert” in Jewish subversion, side by side with she-Syrians.

Chandalas are chandalas since the days of the Roman mobs, but perhaps there is a lesson to be learned here by men of sense. Normal people, with jobs and families and functioning lives should not feel comfortable in the company of dregs calling for Jews to bleed like pigs. As reactionary gentlemen we should not be consorting with lower sorts, even under an imaginary umbrella of “dissidence.” This chandala-level “dissidence” is the opposite of any aristocratic restoration, especially aesthetically. This too has to do with a manly sentiment that we above all must cultivate.  

The Comets of YouTube

A final word regarding the dissident podcast-sphere. I have a young niece who had once dreamed of becoming a fashion designer and now dreams of becoming a YouTube star. Our bloggers and essayists, happily, have achieved my niece’s dream. Good for them, and I am often entertained by their words and videos and even learn something new here and there. But it’s important not to rise above our stations. A truly educated person by traditional definitions should command several languages, possess solid mathematical education, and be inculcated in the treasures of our civilization. Think Roger Scruton. 

Lacking that, most of us can mostly talk. Sometimes sensibly but mostly superficially and without much nuance. Many of us live within a Dunning-Kruger effect – we read some Schmitt and Pareto (through Burnham, I don’t know anybody who’s read Pareto’s original thousands of pages, definitely not in Italian). And then we say things, very confidently, about “elite theory,” and “bioethics,” and “the passing of the great race,” but it’s all just words. 

Sadly, in many cases these are the words of men who are relatively numerically illiterate and are thus unable to assign a measure of probability to the things they say. Meaning, they are prone to exaggerations. This only leads to a greater pretense of confidence which is then passed on to the witless chandalas. Higher math is almost unheard of, but I would recommend such training before diving into Schmitt and Pareto. Those who have wrestled with differential equations are acutely aware of the Hegelian inconclusive pressures of variables and their derivatives, and thus can only mock with melancholy such juvenile pretensions of certainty.

May God and His angels protect us all.