With the recent debates surrounding AI improvement and the somewhat imminent AI takeover, I thought it would be interesting to return to the 20th century to analyse the debates on the rise of the machine and what we can learn from it today.
The early 20th century marked a time when the technological revolution was in full swing. With radio, mechanised factory work, and the First World War marked the new era of mechanised warfare, the intellectuals of the day were trying to make sense of this new modernised society. With the speed at which the changes occurred, people’s conception of reality was lagging.
The machine has narrowed spaces between people – the car allowed people to traverse space faster, and radio and telephone brought closer and practically instantaneous access to one’s family, friends, and acquaintances. The jobs were mechanised and people, as idealised by Marx, had the potential of being the ‘mere minders of the machine’. We are now entering another era. A time when Artificial Intelligence has the potential to replace most jobs. This is what Fisher in Post-Capitalist Desire has considered an opportunity for a post-scarcity society. But is this possible? Or rather should we heed Nick Land’s warning in Machinic Desire where he advised:
“Zaibatsus flip into sentience as the market melts to automatism, politics is cryogenized and dumped into the liquid-helium meatstore, drugs migrate onto neurosoft viruses, and immunity is grated-open against jagged reefs of feral AI explosion, Kali culture, digital dance-dependency, black shamanism epidemic, and schizolupic break-outs from the bin.” (Land, Fanged Noumena, 2011)
But let’s thrust away the shatters of this neo-automation and return to 1912, the time when this has only just begun.
Gilbert Gannan, in an article for Rhythm, wrote:
“Life is far too good and far too precious a thing to be smudged with mechanical morality, and fenced about with mechanical lies, and wasted on mechanical acquaintanceships when there are splendid friendships and lovely loves in which the imagination can find warm comradeship and adventure, lose and find itself, and obtain life, which may or may not be everlasting.” (Gannan, 1912)
In a quasi-perennial argument, he claims that mechanical morality and mechanism, in general, will never replace the real deal – the real concrete friendships and those we love.
This is an excerpt from “Mayday! Mayday!”. To continue reading, visit The Mallard’s Shopify.
-
In Defence of Political Conflict
It’s often said that contemporary philosophy is stuck in an intellectual rut. While our forefathers pushed the boundaries of human knowledge, modern philosophers concern themselves with impenetrable esoterica, or gesture vaguely in the direction of social justice.
Yet venture to Whitehall, and you’ll find that once popular ideas have been refuted thoroughly by new schools of thought.
Take the Hegelian dialectic, once a staple of philosophical education. According to Hegel, the presentation of a new idea, a thesis, will generate a competing idea or counterargument, an antithesis. The thesis and the antithesis, opposed as they are, will inevitably come into conflict with one another.
However, this conflict is a productive one. With the merits of both the thesis and the antithesis considered, the reasoned philosopher will be able to produce an improved version of the thesis, a synthesis.
In very basic terms, this is the Hegelian dialectic, a means of philosophical reason which, if applied correctly, should result in a refinement and improvement of ideas over time. Compelling, at its face.
However, this idea is now an outmoded one. Civil servants and their allies in the media and the judiciary have, in their infinite wisdom, developed a better way.
Instead of bothering with the cumbersome work of developing a thesis or responding to it with an antithesis, why don’t we just skip to the synthesis? After all, we already know What Works through observation of Tony Blair’s sensible, moderate time in No 10 – why don’t we just do that? That way, we can avoid all of that nasty sparring and clock off early for drinks.
This is the grim reality of modern British politics. The cadre of institutional elites who came to dominate our political system at the turn of the millennium have decided that their brand of milquetoast liberalism is the be-all and end-all of political thought. The great gods of this new pantheon – Moderation, Compromise, International Standing, Rule of Law – should be consulted repeatedly until nascent ideas are sufficiently tempered.
The Hegelian dialectic has been replaced by the Sedwillian dialectic; synthesis begets synthesis begets synthesis.
In turn, politicians have become more restricted in their thinking, preferring to choose from a bureaucratically approved list of half-measures. Conservatives, with their aesthetic attachment to moderate, measured Edwardian sensibilities, are particularly susceptible to this school of thought. We no longer have the time or space for big ideas or sweeping reforms. Those who state their views with conviction are tarred as swivel-eyed extremists, regardless of the popularity of their views. Despite overwhelming public dissatisfaction with our porous borders, politicians who openly criticise legal immigration will quickly find calls to moderate. If you’re unhappy with the 1.5 million visas granted by the Home Office last year, perhaps you’d be happy with a mere million?
The result has been decades of grim decline. As our social fabric unravels and our economy stagnates, we are still told that compromise, moderation, and sound, sensible management are the solutions. This is no accident. Britain’s precipitous decline and its fraying social fabric has raised the stakes of open political conflict. Nakedly pitting ideas against each other risks exposing our society’s underlying decisions and shattering the myth of peaceful pluralism on which the Blairite consensus rests. After all, if we never have any conflict, it’s impossible for the Wrong Sorts to come out on top.
The handwringing and pearl-clutching about Brexit was, in part, a product of this conflict aversion. The political establishment was ill-equipped to deal with the bellicose and antagonistic Leave campaign, and the stubbornness of the Brexit Spartans. Eurosceptics recognised that their position was an absolute one – Britain must leave the European Union, and anything short of a full divorce would fall short of their vision.
It was not compromise that broke the Brexit gridlock, but conflict. The suspension of 21 rebel Conservative MPs was followed by December’s general election victory. From the beginning of Boris Johnson’s premiership to the end, he gave no quarter to the idea of finding a middle ground.
Those who are interested in ending our national decline must embrace a love of generative adversity. Competing views, often radical views, must be allowed to clash. We should revel in those clashes and celebrate the products as progress. Conservatives in particular must learn to use the tools of the state to advance their interests, knowing that their opponents would do the same if they took power.
There are risks, of course – open conflict often produces collateral damage – but it would be far riskier to continue on our current path of seemingly inexorable deterioration. We must not let the mediocre be the enemy of the good for any longer.
-
Andrew Tate: Idolatry on the Right
In recent months, a phenomenon has swept through social and mainstream media, presenting itself as a paragon of masculinity, success, and wisdom against those that would seek to stultify and control the masses. This phenomenon was known as Andrew Tate, and his reach is something that a Westminster MP could only dream of and envy. At the time of writing this, he has 3.7 million followers on Twitter, and has appeared on Piers Morgan’s TalkTV show, GB News, and Fox News in America. But his reach has gone far beyond the chatter of tweets and the flaccid questioning of Mr Morgan, he has a growing following among teenage boys and those who would identify themselves politically on the right. It would seem to be somewhat innocuous that a figure of influence is ostensibly presenting a message encouraging males to embrace their masculinity and to develop their resilience, but is there more to Tate than meets the eye?
Let’s go back to the beginning. For the purposes of brevity and conciseness, I’m going to avoid a detailed biography of the former kickboxer, that’s what search engines are for. After a rather successful career in kickboxing, at one point ranking second best light-heavyweight kickboxer in the world. Tate first entered the media sphere in 2016, as a guest on the reality show Big Brother, during which time he was scrutinised for his comments on Twitter. Later, he created a website offering training on wealth accumulation and male-female interactions. His most well-known venture involved his brother, Tristan, in which they worked together to operate a webcam studio using his girlfriends to manipulate male callers. A venture which, by his own admission, was a “total scam”.
Again, conciseness would prevent me from going through every controversial post or tweet from Tate. But his recent takes on issues from Covid to Meghan Markle have garnered significant attention and support, resulting in those who agree with his positions to view him in a much more favourable light, in spite of previous controversies; seeing his announced conversion to Islam as a kind of Pauline, Damascene transformation that aligns him to those of us who yearn for a preservation of traditions that have previously maximised the wellbeing of men, women and the raising of children.
Christ warned, in the gospels, of wolves in sheep’s clothing- people who will appear righteous in their sayings and public actions but have their own motives beneath the surface (he intended this as a warning to Christians about those who would enter the body of the church with ulterior motives). Too often, the right has easily clung to different individuals who mimic soundbites or present-day talking points. Interestingly, the most recent social media exchange involving Tate and Climate Changes’ equivalent to the medieval ‘Mad Child Saint’ Greta Thunberg, was actually a clash between two idols; one deified predominantly by the left, and one by the right. Battle lines were drawn and electronic foot soldiers on both sides levelled accusations of being uncritical and blindly following fallible figures; an inexperienced, and scientifically incompetent teenager, and an arrogant, belligerent, and dishonest opportunist.
The truth is that the right is as unaware of its blind spots as the ideological leftists it (rightly) opposes. Our discourse has shifted in such a way that anyone who agrees on talking points of current issues (e.g. race, biological sex, sexuality, etc.), the right’s guard seems to drop and uncritical praise, almost to the point of fawning, is showered on the speaker/writer- for clarity, I’m not precluding the ability to find common ground on these issues, and the right itself is not a monolith. For those of us who are wedded to the philosophy of conservatism, the concept of the ‘Civic Gospel’, and a return to the traditions which were most conducive to social cohesion and unified us under a common, transcendent ideal, there could not be a worse mascot than Tate. His own brand of arrogance, combined with geysers of self-promotion, referring to a nebulous conception of ‘The Matrix’, and a tone that seems as belligerent to those loyal to him, as it is to his so-called ‘haters’- is this really a voice that people think should ‘lead the forces’? This is not to say one should not be sceptical and mindful of actual moves against conservatives, but it has become something of a social-media trope to behave as though we’re aboard the Nebuchadnezzar, jacking in to judo-throw the hyper-liberals, and leap across rooftops evading the political and social gatekeeping agents.
We tend to favour the figure of the ‘strong man’- the individual who will courageously stand by their principles and ideals, fights for and defends that which is good in our world and beats back the foe. Often, people confuse this with the individual that has ‘based tweets’ or will be unafraid of cancellation. If conservatives are to truly win the battle of ideas, it cannot be with shallow social media presences, soundbites, or rallying behind unsavoury characters that cherry-pick conservatism. The blind defence of Tate by certain right-wingers, after his arrest on 29th December, claiming him to merely be a victim of ‘The Matrix’ or some other equally tenuous and incoherent cabal indicates the battle conservatives still have ahead of them- I refer to the battle within.
There are a lot of different ideas and personalities masquerading as conservatism. Some reduce it to merely the contra position to progressivism- to do this is to misunderstand the fact that conservatism isn’t anti-progress, it is merely mindful of progress, to invoke Burke, in the context of the “primeval contract” between the living, the dead, and those yet to be born. I would doubtless be preaching to the converted about the difference between the two positions. Another blind spot on the right is the often-insatiable desire to ‘own the left’. It is in this desire that I think we can find our biggest blind spot. Whether it’s personalities on mainstream/social media, or some other entity, the right has, in recent years often lost sight of its own philosophy in order to score cheap points on liberals/the left; one of the most notable examples being in the struggle against identity politics- I refer you to the appointment of Rishi Sunak as Prime Minister, and the point-scoring with the Tories having the second non-white Prime Minister. It seemed some had forgotten our own history by ignoring the premiership of one Benjamin Disraeli. Granted, there is some catharsis to be had in these moments, but they come at the cost of presenting a mature philosophy that seeks to preserve the best of our society and culture.
To return to the focus of this article, Tate certainly does not represent conservatism in any meaningful way (I’m not arguing for philosophical/ideological purity per se), but he has served a purpose in exposing a ubiquitous blind spot. The Bible refers to the practice of “giving glory to the creature rather than the creator”, the modern obsession with facades, personalities and appearances over thoughts and ideas, I believe, enables this practice. It is clear that if the conservative seeks a ‘model’, it must be someone who transcends the ebb and flow of modern society, or social media soundbites. Even the institutions we venerate can no longer be trusted to be guarantors of the common good, since they themselves are captured by this wave of style and personality over substance. This is why Christian conservatives place Jesus front and centre- a man who stood apart from selfish motives, petty conflicts, but upheld ideals that touched all, while staying true to his boundaries. Whether or not one accepts the metaphysical statements he made, his life and acts, and the culture they inspired should be our gold standard, not the jewellery on Andrew Tate’s wrist.
-
We Need a Che Guevara of Our Own
The title might be misleading at first, but there is a good reason for that. To understand the needs and opportunities for the contemporary Right, we first need to understand what got the Left into power at first.
Enter Che Guevara, or more exactly, enter Ernesto Guevara de la Serna.
For anyone in either the free-market or the classical conservative sphere, the travel log of his motorcycle trip around Latin America should be a required reading. Not because it is an historical account of the radicalization of one man, who from well-educated Argentinian bourgeois doctor went to terrorist, revolutionary and guerrilla leader, but because it shows the seeds of how a simple man with ideas (albeit in his case, the worst ones) can become an archetype, a religious icon for a set of beliefs.
Even for someone like Murray Rothbard himself, Che Guevara was someone worth of interest, to the point of writing a highly critical but yet prophetic obituary for him, and Rothbard, of course, was right, because Che Guevara has probably become the most well-known political figure in recent Latin American history, and outside of the developed West, that is, the US-led Anglosphere and Western Europe, his face and his name have become synonymous with armed struggle, with guerrilla warfare, with an utopian socialist ideal that knows no limits nor boundaries.
His death at the hands of the Bolivian Army, helped by the CIA, in a failed attempt to spark an agrarian Marxist revolution in the Andean Altiplano, only contributed more to his already legendary status among those who oppose the ideas of freedom and civilization.
In practice, his death made him a martyr of the Left, a religious symbol of a revolution that never came but is always presented as the gospel of egalitarianism. Say what you want about Che Guevara, say he was a killer and a terrorist, and you will be right. But that doesn’t take away the fact that Che was ready to die for his ideas, and in fact did so.
The Right, neither conservative nor libertarian, doesn’t have a single person who has gone to such extents. We don’t have martyrs, and our beliefs are not religious. We may think of the self-immolating acts committed by the likes of Alex Jones or Kanye West as martyrdom for our causes, like free speech, but they are nothing but counterproductive folk activism.
In fact, our beliefs, are quite the opposite to a religious fanatism, for they are rooted in the reasonable analysis of history, nature and society, and as such, the results of our ideas, even if adequate on a long term, are not easy to sell to high-time preference masses, who have become used to receive subsidies from governments and have internalized the propaganda created by the corporate-managerial class that works in tandem with policy-makers.
Our society is deadlocked between an individual struggle for freedom and an organized struggle for power, and our times are stranger than ever, for they represent what Francis Fukuyama still insists is the End of History, but look closer to the civilization end stage described by Oswald Spengler in his Decline of the West magnum opus.
The problem is that if we take either Fukuyama’s or Spengler’s words for granted, we’re still left without some key elements to understand the mechanics of our age: liberal democracy is indeed the dominant system all around the world, but it is not liberal (for it is not generous, as defined by Erik von Kuehnelt-Leddihn, and because it creates false, unstable prosperity out of heavy taxation, inorganic monetary emission and general government intervention of the economy), nor it is democratic (for it allows everyone to vote, no matter who or what “the People” is or is intended to be, and reserves power only for an unelected managerial class.)
If this account of facts is remindful of James Burnham’s ideas, it is because he, like Spengler, identified elements of our current collapse, and tried to predict its future by equating the imminent managerialism of the West with Soviet Stalinism and Italian fascism, and in many senses, Burnham was right, and Western managerialism has indeed become something akin to fascism, although without the nationalism, as Lew Rockwell has repeatedly warned us.
But where does that leave us and how is Che Guevara connected to all of this?
Simple: for Burnham, as well as for Spengler, as theorists of Western collapse, the system that would be in place in the endgame of civilization would depend on strongmen like Cecil Rhodes to work smoothly, for they, as the Great Men in History described by Thomas Carlyle, would be the only ones able to take the reins of power to direct society.
This mention of Cecil Rhodes is not random, because he could probably be considered the best example of how a Great Man idea must be compensated with a sound understanding of historical processes, and because Rhodes, like Che Guevara, was strongman, a tactician and a born leader. In Hans-Hermann Hoppe’s words, he was a natural elite.
From an English boy with poor health, the son of an Anglican priest, he became a mining magnate and then an important politician in South Africa. His talent for business allowed to thrive and prosper, and his short stay in Oxford University shaped his worldview into one of British dominance and influence.
In the same fashion as other strongmen before him, Rhodes was elevated into the highest prestige in his last years and after his death, with the British colonies he helped to acquire getting named after him (not unlike Bolivia being named after Simón Bolívar), with his South African estate becoming the campus for the University of Cape Town, and with his large fortune left to fund the Oxford scholarship named in his honor, which has helped educated thousands of politicians and enterprise heads from all around the Anglosphere, with the original intent of shaping them to think in the same way Rhodes himself thought about a British-dominated world.
But his legacy hasn’t prospered as much as the almost religious veneration Che Guevara has acquired, for the idea of Rhodes, the imperial businessman and politician, once respected as an ideal of the British Empire, has now become anathema even in the very institution he attended and donated his fortune to, for the gospel of egalitarianism cannot allow the veneration of natural elites, in their own times and contexts.
Che Guevara, on the other side, by living fast and dying young, by focusing and sacrificing himself to his ideas, created a myth around and about himself, a myth that men like Cecil Rhodes could have never even achieved.
And now, in our Populist age, where political and business leaders emerge out of the polarization of ideas and beliefs, where strongmen and magnates like Ron DeSantis and Elon Musk can lead thousands of supporters and yet still have troubles to hold or exercise power in their own spheres of influence, the question remains: what are we missing that the Left does have?
We may not realize it, but the Left is currently lacking this key element: they don’t have natural elites, they don’t have caudillos, they don’t have true leaders.
In their inflation of their egos, they have elevated the likes of Klaus Schwab and Samuel Bankman-Fried into their demigods, and when the societal collapse they have caused themselves may finally come, they won’t be able to prevent it or to mitigate it.
But here is where and when our duty becomes clear: if the Left is a fanatic religious movement focused on enforcing egalitarianism, and if the Left has had its martyrs like Che Guevara, then our fight, just as Rothbard said, must also be a religious crusade, one for the defense of freedom and civilization.
But to fight such a fight you don’t only need fighters, you need leaders, tacticians, strategists. Not everyone can be one, because our natural differences make us spontaneously inclined to different activities and positions in life, but extreme circumstances do create extreme leaders.
Ernesto Guevara did not become El Che from day to night, he was transformed by his trip around Latin American, radicalized by the poor living conditions of his fellow men, and engaged by the common identity of a single continent from the Rio Grande to Patagonia. It just happens he took to wrong path and he fought for the wrong ideas, and instead of prosperity to the masses, the only things he brought were death and misery, in Cuba, in Angola, and in Bolivia.
His face, now a symbol, still represents carnage and poverty wrapped around an utopian ideal, but ultimately proves the point of this essay: Che was, and still is, a symbol.
We, in the Right, cannot take him for our side, because it would be incoherent and counterproductive, but we must understand what made him as such. Che emerged under the most unlikely conditions and circumstances. Our Che will probably emerge from the most unlikely of the places as well.
Because if one thing is true, that our conflict with the left is indeed a religious fight against a fanatic progressive dogma, then we will also need leaders and martyrs, just like Che was for the Left in the past. We need a Che Guevara of our own.
