“There is great disorder under heaven,” Mao used to say. It seems to me, however, that there is none at all, and that the various players in this global game of Risk—sometimes rivals, sometimes allies—are no longer even concerned with concealing their moves.
There are, instead, a number of possible developments in one direction or another
They concern birth rates, migration, and the future identity not only of peoples but of individuals themselves. And they concern the struggles among the great powers—powers that are themselves grappling with the very issues just mentioned, while at the same time remaining bound together by rivalry and interdependence—as they compete for control of energy resources and for leadership in technological and industrial revolutions.
It would be enough to breathe
to take the emotional distance necessary from the daily political uproar, and to think of oneself in step with the times, in order to contribute—and I emphasize contribute, since none of us here is a superman—to the proper evolution of one’s own people.
Then there is the great confusion beneath the sky that has collapsed overhead
– as Asterix would have feared— for all those upon whom it has truly collapsed.
I am referring to those who feel nostalgia not for the life, symbols, or achievements of a past that can very well regenerate the future—because it is not dead—but for the living conditions to which they themselves were accustomed, and for the mental frameworks they once knew and from which they cannot free themselves.
This leads to the mental construction of “Gaulish Villages” in which to shut oneself away, waiting for some avenger to vindicate one’s disillusionments. Hence the idealization of entire subcultures or of arrogant and violent powers, which people refuse to see for what they really are and to which they entrust themselves almost religiously. It matters little whether these are the Russians, the Americans, the Israelis, the Iranians, or the North Koreans: the mental process is the same and leads to the same outcome of self-corrosion.
Or else, at regular intervals, there reappears the man—or woman—of the last resort:
the one who says aloud what few dare to say (as if saying and doing were the same thing…), who attracts crowds and whips them into a frenzy.
These are no longer figures who, by virtue of their political culture, generation, or historical circumstances, could offer their peoples alternatives that were extraordinarily difficult yet potentially achievable. There is no longer any Jean-Marie Le Pen. Today there are Éric Zemmour, Marine Le Pen, or, worse still, Alice Weidel. In Italy we had Salvini, now graying and increasingly overshadowed by Vannacci.
The outcome is invariably the same
votes are redistributed, generally to the benefit of the establishment, and nothing changes because nothing can change unless the groundwork has first been laid—deeply and consistently; unless one has understood that political power does not depend on electoral power, nor even on noisy minorities, but on the sources of strength possessed by organized minorities.
Regardless of their intrinsic worth, these providential men—or women—can accomplish very little, because they collide with the startling discovery of terminal populism: power as such, what they call the “deep state.” Either one conquers it, or nothing comes of it, because it is the deep state that enforces the laws and carries out directives—or refuses to do so. It always prevails over those who merely issue them.
Without the prior conquest of these positions of power, there are only ever fireworks.
Let it be clear that I do not intend to put obstacles in the path
of those who feel the call of the wild: every form of engagement always bears fruit, sometimes collateral, and that is fine. However, it must be understood that only Babel towers are built in this way, and they regularly end up collapsing on themselves.
It is the inevitable effect of any last-resort choice. It isolates those who entrench themselves and eventually leads them to die of regret.
If there is a lack of grounding, not only in ideals but also in method, and with it a genuine revolutionary approach to governance, radicalism disguises itself as extremism, raises its voice, perhaps breaks through a few screens and creates a character; meanwhile, it breaks the chains connecting center and periphery, and vice versa.
Because, if one does not keep this radical centrality clearly in mind
one ends up polarized between extremism and moderation: two complementary forms of impotence, both dependent on the renunciation of one’s own subjectivity in favor of delegation, often fideistic, always self-destructive.
This alternative between extremism and moderation would make no sense if one had adopted a revolutionary political mindset that does not contemplate submission to anyone or anything, and therefore excludes any form of entryism.
I have argued for years that entryism is done from the outside. In other words, it is autonomy that grants bargaining power and allows one to enter the game in a networked way, forming chains with those who share certain drives and visions with us. Synergies do not require membership, quite the opposite.
The network is built from anywhere.
Therefore, if someone chooses to go necessarily in one direction rather than another, it is not in itself a problem. It becomes one when it is done with a last-resort mentality and when expectations are entrusted to the providential “messiah” of the moment. Emotion rather than logic.
The current conditions are particularly favorable
both internationally and domestically, as was just demonstrated by the impressive demonstration in Rome for remigration, an oceanic crowd composed of completely ordinary people, among whom were thousands of very young individuals who do not belong to any movement or party.
These favorable conditions can be fully seized, but never with a last-resort syndrome. Failing to do so today, when the wheel is turning in the right direction, would mean failing in one’s duty and disappointing.
Let us make sure not to miss once again the train of history
It must be said, unfortunately, that one usually “evolves” in principles, in the sense that they are abandoned or disowned, while one becomes fossilized in the mental and behavioral sphere.
The “solve” is thus applied to the essential, which thereby dissolves, and the “coagula” to the mental, which becomes rigid.
Let us therefore kill the spirit of gravity that we carry within us like a burden, and the rest will be done.
It is time. And it is our duty.
