Curtis Yarvin, known by his pen name ‘Mencius Moldbug’, is one of the most prominent social critics and reactionary writers of the contemporary era. Yarvin’s blogs, ‘Gray Mirror’ and ‘Imperial Melodies’, can be found on Substack.
Yarvin’s words are in light.
Are you familiar with my favourite institution of journalism? As you know, Orwell worked at the BBC, a great service. I used to listen to BBC short wave as a kid in Cyprus. It used to go ‘beep, beep, beep, beep’, you know, but there’s another part of the BBC that most people don’t know.
Oh!
It’s BBC Pidgin.
Yes! I knew you were going to say that.
[*Laughing*]
You know how many people’s minds you can blow when you show them BBC Pidgin?
Oh my God, oh my God, it’s like the sophisticated version of Rick Rolling.
Oh, it’s so good.
You send them to a story, I’ve been sending people to the BBC Pidgin story about FTX, right?
It is impossible, this is the thing, it’s impossible to read it without sounding like you’re doing something incredibly transgressive.
No, no, no [*Reading from an article on BBC Pidgin], “Dis na as rumours say di FTX and oda firms wey im own bin dey shake financially cause pleti pipo to start to try to dey comot dia money from di platform wey dem dey take buy and sell digital tokens. As mata come tie am rope for neck, Oga Bankman-Friend bin try to organise bailout but e no work.” [*Laughing*] and um…
Oh my God. I’m going to have to type out that transcription.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, I would start with a Google and get it right, like the poem. You know, you don’t wanna [*inaudible*] oh my God. Yeah, but in any case, like, it’s, it’s, you know, the easiest way to explain, like, how like, Mary Tudor, you know, would look at England today, would be like…she’d have the same response to everything that we have to BBC Pidgin. And, and, right –
Even the Victorians, even the Victorians.
Even the Victorians.
It’s like, you know, Blockbuster still exists but its last outlet is in some pointless town in Wisconsin or something.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
That is basically the United Kingdom today. It’s uh…
Yeah, but it doesn’t have to be. Knowing that decline is just a consequence of a form of government should be this endlessly exciting, invigorating, hope, where like, absolutely no hope seems to exist. The fact that no hope seems to exist means that sort of all of these bullshit paths toward hope like Brexit have been exhausted and no energy should be diverted into them, which is good, because they’re traps, and like, the energy of a complete collapse is not really the energy of a collapse, it’s the energy of a reinvention. It’s like, you know, this amazing, joyous, recreation of the modern world, kind of shaking off its 20th Century birth pangs. It’ll be incredible. And it’ll be incredibly wonderful and exciting and glorious and certainly not violent in any particular way because…
Because it doesn’t need to be.
It doesn’t need to be. You know, and, and, and, Sir Arthur Scargill is no longer in the building, let alone like, you know, the workers of London will rise up and there will be a new Peterloo. So, you know, like the clack of history turns, and it turns for them as well as for us.
There’s not enough testosterone for anything like that anyway.
There’s not enough testosterone and actually, you know, literally, there’s not enough testosterone as well as figuratively in many ways, and so you’ll just see these old regimes just crumble like East Germany. And it’s like…people will be like “Why didn’t that happen earlier? Because it could have happened earlier, but it didn’t”.
And, yeah, so, you know, the extent to which the problem of like, spreading this picture, and especially spreading this picture in a way which doesn’t scare anyone, you know, because there’s nothing scary about it. Like, you know, and there’s absolutely nothing scary about it and this is the job of we, the dark elves, on both sides of the Atlantic.
It’s been a huge pleasure. I’m getting a little bit tired.
Curtis, thank you very much for your time.
It has been a great pleasure talking to you and thank you for listening.
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The Plastic University Bubble
I remember visiting a neighbour’s house as a child, and she had bought us an intriguing toy. ‘Super Elastic Bubble Plastic’ was its name. It was a viscous plastic material that came in a tube, along with a straw, which was used to blow it into a bubble shape (much like chewing gum). You could then throw it around and use it as a playball, and the strengthen it had through its artificiality meant it would not pop.
Our university system is much like this toy, in that it is an artificial bubble, sustained only by the will of the state managerial elite, in whose childlike hands it rests. The fundamental fact of the modern university is that it has been transformed from an institution oriented to promote the pursuit of knowledge, into a factory designed to churn out a constant supply of future managerial candidates. Such a change was an intentional act of our political class, beginning with John Major and finishing completion under Tony Blair’s New Labour.
In a debate in the House of Commons in 1983, William Waldegrave, a junior minister in Mrs Thatcher’s government told the House that “Young home entrants to university were 7.5 per cent. of the 18-year-old age group from 1978 to 1980, 7.2 per cent. in 1981 and 6.9 per cent,” and in response to criticism of university budget cuts he explained that this was to “protect the research base.” Restricting university attendance – to dare I say, an ‘elite’ few – strengthened the purpose of the university as a place of high quality research.
In contrast, John Major’s government reformed higher education with the Further and Higher Education Act 1992 leading to the proliferation in the number of universities, with 33 polytechnic colleges becoming universities and a further 45 universities being created since the Act was passed. The number of 18-year olds entering university thus skyrocketed, and Tony Blair laid out his plans to take this further, telling the Labour Party Conference in 1999 that “Today I set a target of 50% of young adults going into higher education in the next century.”
Although this is framed as an egalitarian policy intended to remove class and socioeconomic backgrounds to university attendance, such notions can be swiftly dismissed. As James Burnham, in his prescient The Managerial Revolution, tells us:
“The process of the extension of governmental ownership and control nevertheless means a continuous increase of managerial dominance in the economy as a whole. A clear witness to the truth of this last observation is provided by the growth in the number of “bright young men,” of trained and educated and ambitious youth, who set out for careers in the government, not as politicians in the old sense, but as managers in the various agencies and bureaus in all the myriad fields where they now operate.”
No clearer sign of this is needed than the fact that Leeds Beckett University, that bastion of quality British higher education, advises that “bachelor’s degrees in subjects such as economics, business studies or English would offer entry into generic civil servant roles.” Furthermore, a look at the government’s Civil Service Fast Track scheme shows that applicants must have only ‘achieved’ a 2:2 to apply for 11 out of the 17 scheme pathways. A 2:2 is typically a grade of 50-59%. Mediocrity is now a requirement for entry into the managerial caste. Never mind trying to achieve a first class degree and achieve something with your life; come and join the managers in Whitehall, or one of the hundreds of government quangos, is the message of Mr Blair et al.
The economics of the university system do not make sense. In the words of Shimeon Lee of the Taxpayer’s Alliance:
“…unlike home students, overseas fees are not capped. This allows universities to charge a price that actually reflects the cost of delivering degrees, including the cost of subsidising home students. For example, international students studying a PPE (Philosophy, Politics and Economics) degree at Oxford will pay £41,130 a year. In contrast, home students will pay only £9,250 – the maximum universities have been allowed to charge since 2017.”
International students, paying tens of thousands to study in the UK, are economic tools designed to subsidise the cost for British entrants. Therefore, are simply a policy instrument used to enable as many 18-year-old Brits to go to university as possible.
Let us reflect on what this means. The managerial class, understanding that it needs a supply of fresh-faced youth to rise through its ranks with meaningless degrees in order to sustain itself, has over the past three decades opened the floodgates to millions of foreign students for no other reason than to strengthen its existence through numbers.
For those of us dissatisfied with the cultural and moral vacuum that is modern Britain, the solution is obvious. Repeal the 1992 Act, revert every post-92 university back to a polytechnic college, and abolish international student visas. Maybe then the youth of today will do something useful, rather than studying English (which we all already speak, anyway) or gender studies only to go on and work for Ofcom or Defra.
There are signs that we are heading in the right direction. Recently, Cardiff University announced that 400 academic jobs (7%) will likely be cut because of economic pressures. Revealingly, the university’s vice chancellor Wendy Larner explained this as a result of “the context of declining international student applications and increasing cost pressures, and the need to adapt to survive.” At least she was honest.
Our universities, and schools, now operate only as a training ground for future managers. Rather than keeping it artificially inflated, like a plastic child’s toy, let the bubble pop. Let the children aspire to work in business, learn a trade, or do something else that will actually benefit society.
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Ukraine is the origin of Europe’s next refugee crisis
As Russia is poised to invade Ukraine, with a build-up of as many as 100,000 troops on the border and a concurrent supply of blood banks, commentators are concerned with what this might mean for the rest of the European continent. It may seem selfish to consider the impacts on Western Europe of a ground war in Ukraine, but an inability to think clearly about such ramifications led to a series of ‘forever wars’ in the Middle East, a refugee crisis in the Mediterranean, and the precipitation of homegrown terrorism.
A recent Spectator article, from Owen Matthews, considered that economic sanctions on Russia would likely be enough to deter any invasion, as Putin does not want or need ‘more chunks of Ukraine – there’s no strategic, political or economic upside in fighting an attritional war over open country’. Perhaps not, and the cost of war would certainly be prohibitive, but this presumes that the gas lines to Europe will be turned off, at any point; Russia would not want that, as it would help to cover any military spending, and Europe cannot even consider it, as Germany closes down her nuclear plants and British energy bills are set to soar.
But Russia can destabilise Europe in other ways; and the easiest way is to cause a refugee crisis.
There are three main reasons why this is a likely possibility at this point. First, the Russian style of warfare is one that easily displaces populations: their typical attack plan is to besiege and pummel cities into submission, either with artillery or air support, and concurrently blockade ports until the population submits. The experiences of Russian tactics in Chechnya and Syria are evidence of this: in 2000, before nine years of attritional warfare would see Chechnya reincorporated into the Russian Federation, the Siege of Grozny decimated the city to an extent not seen since the Second World War. An estimated half a million people lived in Grozny by the time of the siege; today, there is just over half that number.
Syria is the same story, with a few details changed. Rather than commit a ground presence, Russia engaged itself in the Syrian Civil War mostly in the air, with what was ultimately a five-year campaign that targeted anti-government positions, but killed as many as 2,000 civilians within the first six months. The refugee fallout of the Syrian Civil War cannot be laid solely at Putin’s door, but it is undeniable that the Russian style of warfare played a significant role in its creation.
Then there is the actual population of Ukraine. Any ground war will not be a repeat of 2014, for a number of reasons, but the most important is the lack of support Russia and Putin experience amongst the Ukrainian population. The Annexation of Crimea was justified somewhat on the historical basis of Russia’s connections to the population and the resurgent separatism in the region; in Western Ukraine, there is no such support, and only 17% of the population hold any warm feelings towards Russia.
Whilst it is never a certainty that a Russian invasion would displace the near-60% of Ukrainians who hold negative attitudes towards Russia, the rules of migration have drastically changed, and populations across the world are much more prepared to leave their homelands if forced to. Moreover, of the 25 million Ukrainians who hold negative attitudes, if only 1% of that number – 250,000 – decided to head West, Eastern European nations would be facing a series of very difficult questions indeed.
Which brings us to the third reason why a refugee crisis is likely; Ukrainians are already heading West, and have done for some time. Economic trends across Europe have seen improved national economies in the Eastern European nations, the Visegrad Group, to the extent that they are actually facing a labour shortage. Consequently, worker flows to Western Europe have slowed, and itinerant workers from Romania and Ukraine have increased in number; so much so, that there are over 300,000 Ukrainians in Poland alone.
This figure has been manageable because of its gradual growth. The same number turning up on the Polish border would not be met with the same warmth; indeed, we already see this with the crisis on the Polish-Belarusian border. Accusations that the Belarusian government has been engineering the crisis are credible, but not the whole picture: Lukashenko stands by Putin very closely, and has accused the West of trying to ‘drown the region in blood’. It would not be beyond the bounds of possibility for the Russian regime to be orchestrating the refugee crisis on the Polish border, but even if they are not, who is to say that they will not in future?
Almost no-one is discussing the reality that the next European refugee crisis is brewing in Ukraine, and the hardest truth to face up to is it might not even need Western nations’ involvement to erupt. The hard questions Europe has faced for nearly a decade are about to get harder.
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This is Anglofuturism
Britain is in doldrums, the days of Cool Britannia are a distant memory, the Empire is now our greatest shame, and pride in our nation has been replaced with an ever-expanding circle of chaos. Whether it’s the Tories’ latest political implosion, Labour backbench rebellions, the cost-of-living perma-crisis, Brexit bickering, or simply ‘decolonising’ anything and everything involving a dead white male. We’re in a mess, the vibe is gone, it’s so over, as they say.
But wait, what is this? Is that a green shoot of optimism I see before me?
Yes, last year a bold new philosophy for Britain was articulated by Aris Roussinos, he called it Anglofuturism, and after being published online it promptly disappeared into the dark corners of the internet where old e-articles go to make out with forgotten cat memes.
That is until it was rediscovered by a Twitter anon who armed appropriately enough with futuristic AI technology created the infamous ‘Anglofuturism Aesthetics’ thread, propelling the concept from online academic-journal obscurity to the heady heights of niche micro-influencer obscurity!
And what followed was the birth of an idea; obscure YouTubers envisaged a steam-powered galactic empire, a heady mix of nostalgia and farsighted fantasy. It was, dare I say in our grim times, fun! This sense of frivolousness prompted me to seek out the original article ‘It’s time for Anglofuturism’ and what I found surprised me.
Anglofuturism was no glib joke, but contained the seeds of a whole new mental model for Britain and the Anglosphere itself. While these ideas were not fully formed and the lively debate in the comments section indicated there was not a consensus, it did get people talking. Most importantly it took aim at a positive vision for the future, in stark contrast to the managed decline offered by our managerial class. But what is Anglofuturism?
Firstly, it is an acknowledgment of where we are at, the economic tailspin we are in and the cultural collapse we are experiencing. This is the death of neo-liberalism and we have front-row seats. The once shiny new successor to Keynesian economics (which itself came to an inglorious end during the strikes and uncollected rubbish of the Seventies) has now also had its day. The ruinous effects of neo-liberalism’s gluttonous money printing, addiction to debt and slavish devotion to short-term profits are all becoming horribly clear. And the consequences of this will only intensify.
Further the people’s discontent with an intellectual elite wedded to bizarre continental philosophies that distort reality, destroy grand narratives, and reduce everything to a mere power struggle is growing too. It is becoming clear that postmodernism and Marxism in its various strains are also destined to join neo-liberalism on the scrapheap of out-of-date and out-of-touch ideas. They’ve had their moment and that moment is over. But the problem we face is the lack of a clear successor waiting in the wings.
And so, we must build it. And this is Anglofuturism, the blueprint for an exciting new intellectual direction. One that is deeply Anglo incorporating the key cultural attributes and identity that have been the source of Britian’s strength for centuries.
It begins with the nuclear family, recognising this is the engine that drives our society, and one we must embrace, cherish and support if we are to have a future. Then housing, the cliché that an Englishman’s home is his castle points to a deeper truth; our homes are our security and our sanctuary. But the recent trend to treat them like speculative financial products rather than where we live and raise the next generation of Britons is a massive social failure that must be rectified.
Next is crime; a low-crime society is a high-trust society, and a high trust society is a wealthy society. For centuries we ensured that crime was punished so communities could flourish and we must resurrect this ethos. Education is the bedrock of Anglo inventiveness and creativity, which gifted us the Industrial Revolution that we generously shared with the world. We must reinvigorate our devotion to learning to once again unlock new opportunities.
And finally, competency. The ‘best man for the job’ is a trope, but it is one that took centuries to establish. From breaking down clannish tendencies to banning cousin marriage and establishing trade guilds, the Anglo vision of a society is one built on competence. We must again enshrine this in our nation. This is the rich cultural heritage of the Anglosphere. Our current reticence to embrace it, and profit from it, is the result of the huge shifts in consciousness that have taken place since the cultural revolution of the Sixties, and the hangover from a century of brutal warfare that we are not yet recovered from. However in terms of the timespan of Anglo culture itself, this is a mere blip, we must look back over a thousand years of intellectual capital and remember the boldness of King Alfred the Great, who, alone with no more than 30 acres of swampy marshland in Wessex, had a vision to unite the warring Kingdoms of Britain into a single England. It’s because of his grand vision that we are the land we are today.
But Anglofuturism is more than looking back. It is also about creating a vision for Britain that is not focused on the next election cycle or TikTok politics of popularity. Instead, it is a commitment to a multi-generational project that truly looks to the future. A future that we as a nation create for our descendants, and the belief that we should leave to them a prosperous, resilient and united Britain, rather than a collapsing economic zone drowning in debt.
A belief that we should utilise our ingenuity, creativity, and technological acumen to power a bold vision for 21st-century Britain, fearlessly embracing radical new ways of doing things that can exponentially change our world. Think of the revolution that was the steam train then times it by a thousand; this is Anglofuturism.
