Our enemy is ugly. Why are we not beautiful?
There is, obviously, a lot more to Bronze Age Mindset, but this is less a review and more of a reflection. I've often wondered where the Alt-Right went astray. Some, less charitable and perhaps more personally malicious, would suggest that Richard Spencer is a clown and that the TRS guys should have stuck to being the Opie and Anthony of the Alt-Right. Organizing really isn't their thing. Perhaps this is true. Perhaps it is not. On the other side, some, more deluded, seem to believe that we haven't told enough people about the Jews. I highly doubt this, because often when I talk to new faces on the Alt-Right the conversation follows a predictable path: Let me tell you about the Jews. You may or may not like Zman, but I think he hit the nail on the head when he said (and I'm paraphrasing) that the thing about the counter-semites on the Alt-Right is that they never actually shut the fuck up about the Jews. You might even call their worldview "Jewish Supremacism" for the same reason that it isn't unfair to call the Black Lives Matter people "White Supremacists".
Let me tell you about the Jews did White Nationalism 1.0 no favors, and it withered and died on the vine, promises unfulfilled. Following the same pattern, so did we.
There are two big problems with the counter-semitic information you commonly find on /pol/ and repeated in Alt-Right circles. Problem numero uno is that a portion of it is not true. Richard von Coudenhove-Kalergi was not Jewish. I've seen plenty of infographics that genealogically link Hitler and Marx to the Rothschild family, but I can't confirm them. Can you? Can anyone? When people see that stuff, do they really care one way or another? What does it matter when you want to believe?
Problem numero dos is probably worse. While there is plenty of disturbing but true information to be found bandied about the world's #1 Nigerian speed knitting forum, the thing is that it is freely bandied about. There is almost no barrier to entry for normal, regular, everyday jagoffs. Should a normal, regular, everyday jagoff discover /pol/ and somehow not immediately eject, the information given (even discounting the outright lies) seems to produce a sort of mania, an information overload. It produces a certain neuroticism that is extremely dysfunctional, which is completely counterproductive when your enemy is also extremely dysfunctional, and can be simply and easily swept aside by publicly displaying qualities that suggest high levels of function, normalcy, aesthetics, morality, etc.
|Pictured: Dysfunction - easily countered by eating healthy, lifting weights, and worshiping the sun.|
I'm not sure how you wrestle the Alt-Right away from this losing strategy. Things are preceding at an interesting an amusing rate with or without the Alt-Right, and for those who come after I would offer only suggestions:
They are ugly. You must be beautiful.
They are weak. You must be strong.
They are wicked. You must be virtuous.
They are craven. You must be noble.
They are hollow. You must exude vitality.
They are bugmen. You must be Men.
We are not a cold, dead people. The struggle of the various flavors of the dissident right - those present and those yet to come - against the orthodoxy of the powerful is less about rebuilding this or that iteration of Western Civilization. More often than not, however well intentioned we started, we get lost in the details. This is unfortunate, because our common goal is less about such and such details that you cling to as a raft of identity to guide you to safe shores, through the roaring tempest of modernity. Our common goal is to recapture the intangible but sacred quality that propelled our forefathers to the four corners of the map, where they planted their flags and dominated the earth, the seas, the skies, and the peoples therein. Our ancestral birthright is not this or that country, ancient or modern or mythological. It is not any iteration of the great Occidental religious tradition, nor any particular custom over another. The European peoples are as varied as the stars that wheel overhead, whether you pause to wonder at their majesty and their distance, or no.
No, friend, our ancestral birthright, the mantle that those that came before us passed to us, which we have fumbled and lost, is greatness. We are not great anymore, nor, in our supremely autistic assessment of the who and the whom, are we treading much closer to that ancient and glorious quality.