Et in Arcadia Ego
This is a hermeneutical monograph on Walter Benjamin’s “On the Concept of History” from the perspective of a crypto-anarchist in the digital age.
It is well-known that an automaton once existed, which was so constructed that it could counter any move of a chess-player with a counter-move, and thereby assure itself of victory in the match. A puppet in Turkish attire, water-pipe in mouth, sat before the chessboard, which rested on a broad table. Through a system of mirrors, the illusion was created that this table was transparent from all sides. In truth, a hunchbacked dwarf who was a master chess-player sat inside, controlling the hands of the puppet with strings. One can envision a corresponding object to this apparatus in philosophy. The puppet called “historical materialism” is always supposed to win. It can do this with no further ado against any opponent, so long as it employs the services of theology, which as everyone knows is small and ugly and must be kept out of sight.
Deep Blue could appraise up to 200 million chess-positions per second more than two decades ago. It was the most powerful supercomputer at the time, and it was developed for the explicit purpose of a brute force strategy against the chess board. No longer do we need ugly theology, but the bonitas intrinseca of mathematics, hallowed be thy Empty Name…
There is a story of a Wizard who was all-powerful and lived at the end of a golden road. He could heal people of their aliments and woes while he ruled from a top his emerald tower as only a God could. One can imagine a philosophical counterpart to this. This animation is little more than smoke and mirrors, yet an entire city of emerald was built from the power of the watchful eye of the automaton, the gaze which ruled without violence. He did this through a gaze which commenced from the machine’s operatively — a panopticon of the greatest order, where a false god declares his impoverished, temporal power which can reign over all of life through a perverted and sinister gaze that demands everything be watched.
We know in the end there is just a shrived, pathetic little man perhaps touching himself behind a curtain whose purpose is to both hide him as much as it is to expose us. And yet he was still able to rule like a God from this automaton he created. This man only had the power of the sleight of hand and guile which created the functions of his rule — and yet Doctor Faustus of the Machine was still able rule his prison as if he were a god!
This liturgy of control and blasphemy of power points towards the two opposite directions of sovereign power which re-fuses into each other at the most extreme cases. When the two most extreme forms of the exception within sovereign power encounter each other directly and totally, it creates a singular moment in time-space where the true nature of arcanum imperii is finally reviled. Truth or Authority. God or Law. Life or Death.
In this moment the Messiah may enter the gate and take his place on the throne that will allow for his reign, but for him to never rule.
In otherwords, Arcanum Imperii is the final secret in which God shows his total opposition to all myth. Mythical violence is confronted by the divine in the final battle for the soul of man and what it means to be human. It is only in this final moment, place, and space in which the two final forms of total power openly unveil themselves to all of humanity for the bare naked truth to testify. It is in that moment that the whole constellation of the history of man finally alines, finishes compiling, and allows for the lighting strike to unleash, that the providence of man is illuminated for the briefest of moments.
It is only from this inverted, hypostatized place of the direct and total encounter between God and Law, that Spinozian God may subsume his rightful place for the final closure to the door of law. This closure opens the possibility of a path to His kingdom, where the one and only law reigns absolutely, but without violence.
It is no wonder that Kasparov suspected Deeper Blue of needing a human to intervene in the end. No matter how much power the machine had, it still did not have the Dionysian Kyros of the human soul. The bombastic suicide the ego will seek out and offer itself up as the final sacrifice in the name of vengeance for something more. To go beyond, for those who have touched bottom and for the silenced Other in order to affirm that we do have a soul, that this place does matter, and it all means something. Sometimes the most powerful thing to be done to establish justice is to fight back with a kind of vengeance only God himself can embody. Sometimes, taking a motherfucker’s eyes is all that matters.
This is Arcanum Imperii and it is the secret of power which has always ruled: Political power grows from the barrel of a gun, which creates a political theology which captures all of life, forcing everyone into the final distinction of friend, or enemy; life or death.
However, there is another form of power that presents itself hidden in this place. It is the power of refusal. To state firmly, “I’d rather not,” while staring down the barrel of a gun with the understanding of the consequence of such. It is from here, when the power of violence is shown to no longer hodl affect or sway over that which it wishes to destroy, we find another totalizing and extreme form of power which no force or violence can destroy.
“Among the most noteworthy characteristics of human beings,” says Lotze, “belongs… next to so much self-seeking in individuals, the general absence of envy of each present in relation to the future.” This reflection shows us that the picture of happiness which we harbor is steeped through and through in the time which the course of our own existence has conferred on us. The happiness which could awaken envy in us exists only in the air we have breathed, with people we could have spoken with, with women who might have been able to give themselves to us. The conception of happiness, in other words, resonates irremediably with that of resurrection [Erloesung: transfiguration, redemption]. It is just the same with the conception of the past, which makes history into its affair. The past carries a secret index with it, by which it is referred to its resurrection. Are we not touched by the same breath of air which was among that which came before? is there not an echo of those who have been silenced in the voices to which we lend our ears today? have not the women, who we court, sisters who they do not recognize anymore? If so, then there is a secret protocol [Verabredung: also appointment] between the generations of the past and that of our own. For we have been expected upon this earth. For it has been given us to know, just like every generation before us, a weak messianic power, on which the past has a claim. This claim is not to be settled lightly. The historical materialist knows why.
There will be a Kingdom of Heaven on this Earth — this has been foretold for millennia, and it has accrued a heavy interest in that time. This claim can only be settled for the steepest of prices which was set by the past long ago, to which the current interest rate of the world has fixed itself to. Coinsidering the fiat price of things, that is a cost that is not too high, and can always be paid in fraud of paper debt, but only at each of our own choosing. It is a crime for the promise of another anonymous life, a method to absconded away from the physical realm of wrath and tears, and the promise of something else for oneself, by oneself.
This fantasy of another life offers a kind of envy we could only find in a fallen world like ours and that is our current form-of-life. From this utopian fantasy, a new form of totally private life seen from the decrypted lens of a liberated future where we can find our true sense of happiness. It is a vision that is tied up in a world that has seen The Last Judgment, and passed into an age in which happiness is pervasive, everlasting, and infinitely given. In other words, there is a life that is just given; which is there entirely for itself — there is nothing to be said of it, only an experience to be lived, a politics to be refused, a privacy to be hedl.
The building of facts of the world as it has truly been is the secret index that points towards the direction from which the thunderclap of finality will come. To build the public ledger of crimes for all the world to see, and allow for the Book of Judgement to begin its tallying, compiling, and computing from which the Final Order can be computed, calculated, and committed.
The echo which has us turn towards the past and seek the clues for a liberated future firmly eludes to the world that could have been. This future was profaned and doomed for each new posterity to wait another generation, an another cycle of interest to compound. Each generation waits for their impoverished messiah to seek access to the gate of the law, only to find themselves infinitely waiting for his return, unaware he died long ago.
Humanity has been waiting before the law for eternity, and it is only now in what could be man’s final hideous moment does he come to the transcendental realization of what this means. The door was never made to be entered, but only closed. The catastrophe of law has interloped into every sphere of our private lives, and is now the very hearth of our existence. It is through this Door of Law that it imposes itself as the only answer does the total nakedness and horror for what it really: the Final Solution — to all of life.
“Arbeit macht frei” is the hollow, weak bleat we hear from the vacancy of the musselmen; their eyes consume us with the prattle and fear that define this place. We cannot look them straight on; or we will be petrified with horror from the Medusian gaze which pulled them under. To look directly at the sin is too much; seeing evidence of the crimes is more than enough proof that doing our masters bidding will do anything but set us free.
It is our task to hear beyond the screams in the everlasting night, to ensure that the door of law will be finally be closed, so that the gates to to the kingdom of heaven may open. This is the only way to attain justice in a fallen world where cries for consanguinity go unanswered, and only the violence of darkness rules the jungle of infinite night we call life.
The generations before us who fought and died for the ideals which will make The Redeemed Future is of the same current that has set the general course of history. It is only now, at the end of the culmination of humanity as Man The Animal, that we can sit on the cliff to eternity, and look over the barbaric and bloody path of bones that has allowed for us to scale to here. We can lean over the edge of this cliff to see a liberated future where no war exist and peace pervades all — if only we are to jump and end it for once and for all. Maybe we will fly, or maybe we will die; but at least the decision has been made, rather than to continue to climb the mountain of bones we call progress.
It is when we reconfigure reality to be the waking-dream, an ecstatic celebration where we are amongst our brothers and sisters, in the household of the world and the community that contains all of humanity; we can finally know the conditions of Erloesung for what it really is. The secret protocol of what is true, honest, good, and is the permanent, and everlasting. It is the Whatever of a private life that is lived for itself and only for itself, and for the happiness that must contain.
This form-of-life is totally separate from the so-called progress into which the future is tumbling aimlessly with dangerous vertigo, and reckless vacancy. This form-of-life beyond the veil is built from the irredeemable conditions that creates the world as we know to be true, building toward the final moment in which everything comes to serve its purpose, and Kryos unveils himself as the final steward of Providence to settle this claim from the past; preparing His throne so the Gate may open and our generation will have the opportunity to fulfill the Kingdom of Heaven on this earth.
The chronicler, who recounts events without distinguishing between the great and small, thereby accounts for the truth, that nothing which has ever happened is to be given as lost to history. Indeed, the past would fully befall only a resurrected humanity. Said another way: only for a resurrected humanity would its past, in each of its moments, be citable. Each of its lived moments becomes a citation a l’ordre du jour [order of the day] — whose day is precisely that of the Last Judgment.
The power of Bitcoin was not to create another form of money, but to create a ledger of truth that has an economic incentive behind it. The bodies that creates the digital noosphere which is bonded to the whole social body of the globe, recounts every moment and event without distinguishing between the great and small, thereby accounts for the whole of the Truth to which only the past can claim. With the images, sounds, and videos as the proof of the past which becoming clearer, and resounding more fervently as we grow more distant from it, and more evidence compiles for it; the final order of things unveils itself. The accumulation of primary archeological evidence from here on out compels a grand focusing of the lens towards what Truth is to be established.
Nothing significant that happens now can be lost to history anymore.
The digital will crystallize the moments of each day to be frozen in time as it really was, for all of time to come. Now we are building unto that final moment when enough information for The Judgment to be executed. With every single action notarized, weighed, and analyzed; He will decide who enters into his Kingdom, and who are the Sons of Perdition are who would trade His son for thirty pieces of silver.
‘Secure at first food and clothing, and the kingdom of God will come to you of itself.’ — Hegel, 1807
The class struggle, which always remains in view for a historian schooled in Marx, is a struggle for the rough and material things, without which there is nothing fine and spiritual. Nevertheless these latter are present in the class struggle as something other than mere booty, which falls to the victor. They are present as confidence, as courage, as humor, as cunning, as steadfastness in this struggle, and they reach far back into the mists of time. They will, ever and anon, call every victory which has ever been won by the rulers into question. Just as flowers turn their heads towards the sun, so too does that which has been turn, by virtue of a secret kind of heliotropism, towards the sun which is dawning in the sky of history. To this most inconspicuous of all transformations the historical materialist must pay heed.
But seek ye first the kingdom of God and his justice, and all these things shall be added unto you. — [Redacted]
God is dead, and he was long before we got here. The righteousness of the struggle to live free or die trying is recognized in the branded flesh of Man throughout all of history who have scummed in horrific magnitudes, and continue to do so today under the yoke of the techo-global fascist machine. The hideous recognition that The State of Exception governs all, and allows for all humans to be placed outside and beyond the law is also the recognition of the Abomination of Desolation of the law itself.
There are no more questions to be asked; words to be spoken, pleas to be give. There is only a thirst for vengeance, a vicious hatred to stoke the flames of righteous indignation for what we have become. The time for the decision to make the action which we all know must be done is finally here; and there is nothing that can stop it. For each victory they ever hold, we shall always know that it a temporary and impotent one which has already been profaned and cursed from beyond the grave. The secrets of the shadows contains the vile and contempt which is already incubate the successful resistance for the next fight with the seed of indignation. Those of the future shall spit on the names of today’s victors, politicians, and bureaucrats; having bared witness to the documentation of their atrocities, the horrors which they engaged, and utter blasphemy of declaring themselves the purveyors of God’s Law; or any law for that matter. Without a shadow of a doubt, this is the truth that will never run away from us. The meticulously documentation of the present shall act as the testament to the future of the barbarism of its past. It shall provide l’ordre du jour for the rest of time, a founding document for a new form of Law, and the testimony for why such an novus ordo seclorum is not just needed, but demanded.
It is only when we can see that we will lose everything and The Catastrophe will consume all, that the Katechon will show itself, and we will be free to do the final action which God has summoned us to do.
The true picture of the past whizzes by. Only as a picture, which flashes its final farewell in the moment of its recognizability, is the past to be held fast. “The truth will not run away from us” — this remark by Gottfried Keller denotes the exact place where historical materialism breaks through historicism’s picture of history. For it is an irretrievable picture of the past, which threatens to disappear with every present, which does not recognize itself as meant in it.
We can never truly know the fullness of the past, but there are clues to left to us in the form of photos, videos, and other direct evidence as witness as archive that can allow for us to build the truth as it really was. These are just shards of the shattered mirror into which we can look into the past to see Medusa’s curse of law staring back at us. However, it is each of these fragments that allow for a thousand of the same reflections to see the single past as it really was.
Historical materialist understands that it is on the side of the vanquished, impoverished, and those who touched bottom for good reason. The Truth of what was will stand firm in front of us, refusing to go with the narrative of the present and the propaganda of the machine. Our task is to recognize the bias of the present which contorts the evidence of the past to create an irredeemable future. In creating the sacred and divine task for a free future all; no one will be able to hide from the gaze of a God who imposes The Truth upon all for everyone to see.
To articulate the past historically does not mean to recognize it ‘the way it really was’ (Ranke). It means to seize hold of a memory as it flashes up at a moment of danger. Historical materialism wishes to retain that image of the past which unexpectedly appears to man singled out by history at a moment of danger. The danger affects both the content of the tradition and its receivers. The same threat hangs over both: that of becoming a tool of the ruling classes. In every era the attempt must be made anew to wrest tradition away from a conformism that is about to overpower it. The Messiah comes not only as the redeemer, he comes as the subduer of Antichrist. Only that historian will have the gift of fanning the spark of hope in the past who is firmly convinced that even the dead will not be safe from the enemy if he wins. And this enemy has not ceased to be victorious.
Historical materialist only see this moment of danger — the State of Emergency — as the tradition of man. As in war, we have entrenched ourselves so deeply in the ideology of war that no longer is there a possibility of peace on earth, but only the silence between bomb drops, gun shots, and screams of agony. Our trauma is now a tool of the ruling class, which they use to keep us terrified, separated, subservient, and most importantly, alienated. Each of us blush with the acknowledgment of our compromise to keep ourselves inside the iron cage, cutting the sinews to our greatest power. Is there no longer any form of radicalism that could call itself revolutionary? This is no mistake, but is the logical conclusion of a humanity that only has lies, deceit, and prattle left to navigate the world, for we all live in the concentration camps that we call life.
Only He who can incubate the Divine and Profane spark that will ignite these facts with such beauty, imperiousness, and grace will we be able to call the Messiah. The One who no person can look at, for they have no name, no face no body. The one who is the hero with a thousand faces, and will die a thousand and one times. The Nameless, unidentifiable, Other who can only be called Anonymous.
It will be him; the decapitated, wretched disemboweled Acephale who has cut out his own heart to make a grenade of passion and glory from which he will explode history from this epoch.
It will be with this final weapon of Truth found within hyper-technology of Bitcoin that will act as the citations in l’ordre du jour for the Last Judgement of the Multitude on the Criminal. Then even the dead will cry out from beyond the grave for that which was promised, and that which will be delivered and redeemed.
Think of the darkness and the great cold
In this valley, which resounds with misery.
— Brecht, Threepenny Opera
Fustel de Coulanges recommended to the historian, that if he wished to reexperience an epoch, he should remove everything he knows about the later course of history from his head. There is no better way of characterizing the method with which historical materialism has broken. It is a procedure of empathy. Its origin is the heaviness at heart, the acedia, which despairs of mastering the genuine historical picture, which so fleetingly flashes by. The theologians of the Middle Ages considered it the primary cause of melancholy. Flaubert, who was acquainted with it, wrote: “Peu de gens devineront combien il a fallu être triste pour ressusciter Carthage.” [Few people can guess how despondent one has to be in order to resuscitate Carthage.] The nature of this melancholy becomes clearer, once one asks the question, with whom does the historical writer of historicism actually empathize. The answer is irrefutably with the victor. Those who currently rule are however the heirs of all those who have ever been victorious. Empathy with the victors thus comes to benefit the current rulers every time. This says quite enough to the historical materialist. Whoever until this day emerges victorious, marches in the triumphal procession in which today’s rulers tread over those who are sprawled underfoot. The spoils are, as was ever the case, carried along in the triumphal procession. They are known as the cultural heritage. In the historical materialist they have to reckon with a distanced observer. For what he surveys as the cultural heritage is part and parcel of a lineage [Abkunft: descent] which he cannot contemplate without horror. It owes its existence not only to the toil of the great geniuses, who created it, but also to the nameless drudgery of its contemporaries. There has never been a document of culture, which is not simultaneously one of barbarism. And just as it is itself not free from barbarism, neither is it free from the process of transmission, in which it falls from one set of hands into another. The historical materialist thus moves as far away from this as measurably possible. He regards it as his task to brush history against the grain.
In no other time in history has the empathy of the world been so barren as to drive droves of people to take their own lives. The incredible abyss of despondency that is this world drowns all who are lost within the hollowness of everything. The musselman waits in traffic and stares back at us at supermarkets. The moral wound of being in this place, devoid of meaning could almost convince one that reality was devoid of meaning, and not just of the pathos of one-dimensional men. Despite the historicism that has created the world as it stands today, it cannot rid itself of the artifacts of truth that directly point to each and every brick of barbarism upon which the whole of the West was built. This is what drives people to such depths of despair to believe that there is no other choice for them but to be rid of this world, and hope that there is something better on the other side.
Objects of culture and veneration all have a secret history which is caked in the blood of the innocent, and forgotten under the cries of patriotism which holds them as precious objects which are definitive of the nation. The historical materialist does not want to consider these objects falling into their hands, and happily provides the blindspot in which the true path of history takes. From their own ignorant need to posses a power which they cannot understand, they fall victim the same circumstances which has befallen every victor who eventually trasmutate into the victim of the fatal virus of power.
The Task cannot become another chapter within this horrendous span of time, another oscillation of hyperviolence from revolution to counter-revolution, and back again; but to mark the end of it with the Final Epoch. There is no throne to take power from, only The empty one to prepare. There is no redemption, only expiation.
The tradition of the oppressed teaches us that the “emergency situation” in which we live is the rule. We must arrive at a concept of history which corresponds to this. Then it will become clear that the task before us is the introduction of a real state of emergency; and our position in the struggle against Fascism will thereby improve. Not the least reason that the latter has a chance is that its opponents, in the name of progress, greet it as a historical norm. — The astonishment that the things we are experiencing in the 20th century are “still” possible is by no means philosophical. It is not the beginning of knowledge, unless it would be the knowledge that the conception of history on which it rests is untenable.
The emergency is The State in its final form. It is the culmination of the totalizing form-of-life of the scientific-materialist, whose callow blindness in serving the state machine has allowed for all of us to be captured within the concentration camps we call life. It is the shaken and goulash eyes of the musselmen found everywhere in society, who meditate on ‘arbeit macht frei’ where we find our real answer. We only need to look at the silent dead, the bodies found in mass graves, and the next wave of people being pushed from their homes and land to know our position.
The emergency is now.
The emergency is the present.
The emergency is our life.
The natural course of ‘progress’ which we see is the progress of power — its consolidation through ruthless and raw violence with the ever-changing faces of the state, and the Infinity War it bring under the banner of ‘peace’.
The beginning of knowledge rest upon the capacity to ask for forgiveness for all that has befallen all of man; and to open the path to redemption through only a silent action which resounds and reverberates louder than anything that can be said. Only then, may the Gate open.
My wing is ready to fly— Gerhard Scholem, “Angelic Greetings”
I would rather turn back
For had I stayed mortal time
I would have had little luck.
There is a painting by Klee called Angelus Novus. An angel is depicted there who looks as though he were about to distance himself from something which he is staring at. His eyes are opened wide, his mouth stands open and his wings are outstretched. The Angel of History must look just so. His face is turned towards the past. Where we see the appearance of a chain of events, he sees one single catastrophe, which unceasingly piles rubble on top of rubble and hurls it before his feet. He would like to pause for a moment so fair [verweilen: a reference to Goethe’s Faust], to awaken the dead and to piece together what has been smashed. But a storm is blowing from Paradise, it has caught itself up in his wings and is so strong that the Angel can no longer close them. The storm drives him irresistibly into the future, to which his back is turned, while the rubble-heap before him grows sky-high. That which we call progress, is this storm.
The Catastrophe in which we live is the building towards the final eschatology moment. The casting of rubble, upon rubble until there is nothing left at his feet is due to there being no object that does not become rubble in the building of the Stairway to Heaven for the final Accent to His Kingdom. The horrors of the world present themselves with such clarity for the complete contrast of Evil from otherwise; this is how all things become rubble in the face of God; the truth of all things.
God himself set the machinery of his clock at the beginning. All events are already known and completed in the final time in which he reigns but does not rule. For us to reach Elysium we must simply close our wings, and forsake a god which would subject us to such conditions. God is dead, and he was long before we came here. Now He may be rebuilt, in all of his spectre, grandeur, and glory and what that means in the world of today.
The objects which the monastic rules assigned to monks for meditation had the task of making the world and its drives repugnant. The mode of thought which we pursue today comes from a similar determination. It has the intention, at a moment wherein the politicians in whom the opponents of Fascism had placed their hopes have been knocked supine, and have sealed their downfall by the betrayal of their own cause, of freeing the political child of the world from the nets in which they have ensnared it. The consideration starts from the assumption that the stubborn faith in progress of these politicians, their trust in their “mass basis” and finally their servile subordination into an uncontrollable apparatus have been three sides of the same thing. It seeks to give an idea of how dearly it will cost our accustomed concept of history, to avoid any complicity with that which these politicians continue to hold fast to.
We have already created a new world and culture in which the meatspace is to be despised and deplored; identifying with the flesh is sacrilege, and the concealment of private key is a sacrosanct. As with the rise and fall of each ‘hero’ who comes to challenge fascism, we disparage them too lightly with each endorsement of hope they offer. Their faith in the fate of politics, with their wholly corrupted leaders, and fanatically devotion to a system of exploitation, violence, and stupidity shows the insanity of the reality which they refuse to let go of. It is our task to force the facts to be what they are and to present them as such for all to see. Only then can we bear witness to the dearness this has cost all of us, and a grief that only silence can hold.
The conformism which has dwelt within social democracy from the very beginning rests not merely on its political tactics, but also on its economic conceptions. It is a fundamental cause of the later collapse. There is nothing which has corrupted the German working-class so much as the opinion that they were swimming with the tide. Technical developments counted to them as the course of the stream, which they thought they were swimming in. From this, it was only a step to the illusion that the factory-labor set forth by the path of technological progress represented a political achievement. The old Protestant work ethic celebrated its resurrection among German workers in secularized form. The Gotha Program [dating from the 1875 Gotha Congress] already bore traces of this confusion. It defined labor as “the source of all wealth and all culture.” Suspecting the worst, Marx responded that human being, who owned no other property aside from his labor-power, “must be the slave of other human beings, who… have made themselves into property-owners.” Oblivious to this, the confusion only increased, and soon afterwards Josef Dietzgen announced: “Labor is the savior of modern times… In the… improvement… of labor… consists the wealth, which can now finally fulfill what no redeemer could hitherto achieve.” This vulgar-Marxist concept of what labor is, does not bother to ask the question of how its products affect workers, so long as these are no longer at their disposal. It wishes to perceive only the progression of the exploitation of nature, not the regression of society. It already bears the technocratic traces which would later be found in Fascism. Among these is a concept of nature which diverges in a worrisome manner from those in the socialist utopias of the Vormaerz period [pre-1848]. Labor, as it is henceforth conceived, is tantamount to the exploitation of nature, which is contrasted to the exploitation of the proletariat with naïve self-satisfaction. Compared to this positivistic conception, the fantasies which provided so much ammunition for the ridicule of Fourier exhibit a surprisingly healthy sensibility. According to Fourier, a beneficent division of social labor would have the following consequences: four moons would illuminate the night sky; ice would be removed from the polar cap; saltwater from the sea would no longer taste salty; and wild beasts would enter into the service of human beings. All this illustrates a labor which, far from exploiting nature, is instead capable of delivering creations whose possibility slumbers in her womb. To the corrupted concept of labor belongs, as its logical complement, that nature which, as Dietzgen put it, “is there gratis [for free].”
Our friends are nowhere to be found within this system that creates murder and genocide under the banner of freedom, demockracy, and law. The conformism which enslaves everything ensures even that language is impoverished to its very meaning. Inverted; language completes our alienation within its womb of isolation from where we each wait for death to take us. Though we all know and are personally familiar with the capitalist machine’s exploitation, dislocation, drudgery, and terror; we still find ourselves say with a shrug, “I gotta pay my bills,” as we hear bones crunch under our step, the screams of the poor silenced with thuds of truncheons. We all are silent with guilt for participating and enforcing the apparatus which claims to serve us better, while the distinction between our enslavement and rule becomes so blurred that it is indistinguishable.
The mode of exploitation is so ingrained within all of us now, that we are all tainted with the virus of alienation from inception. With the same barbarism and monstrous greed which we exploit nature, we also exploit ourselves, each other, and our souls. Man has shown over the last several millennia that he not only is unfit fit to rule himself, but no one else either. The greatest care of the self become Messianic only in a world where our very being has been expropriated from the hollow name that is The Self.
To anonymize ourselves is to strip bare of the roles, identities, and laws we have been given in order to constitute something novel, spectacular, and new.
We must keep in mind that if we empower the machines to liberate us, it is not to do our work. The extraordinary danger that we face from this technology is not from without, but within: we must never allow for our humanity to be lost again. Not even in the deepest confines of the digital, where our True Name is concealed and coincides with the private key, will we ever allow for the infinity of human creative and ingenuity of The Other to be locked away. Through this technology Novus Ordo Seclorum will bloom and the scent of freedom will rise from beneath the rancor of this world.
It is once we come to understand that our quest is for the restoration of a society which has always been [The Whatever], and must only be remembered, we will come upon Our Work as humans of this age. This is the work in which we are given our lives to live once again as our own, and which we can free ourselves from the banality of labor in capitalism. This is to open ourselves to The Real Work that is both our own, and what must be done if we are to survive the coming environmental catastrophe. We must recognizing that we are not the masters of the Earth to exploit it for gratis, but are stewards that understand all things belong to all people [omnia sunt communia].
We wish to only live, and the cost of that we will raise above all else.
This alone will cause for the vanquishment of the world we wish to dismiss. But in order to be able to create a new form-of-life from which life and liberty synonymous, we must consider that the time to act is upon us now, or the Gate will remain closed forever.
We must profane the past in order to open a new future from which freedom can reign. We wish to create a world in which our labor, our love, our life, and self-care can no longer be separated, but only honored through their fusion of our abandonment into it.
We will find the power to create a new form-of-life here in this space and the kind of political which it demands. To birth our new world for our redemption through the creative power that only we can own, can only be found in our true hidden secret work which lies beyond the end of labor and exploitation, beyond the earth and the self, and into the ranks of all the ages. It is our purpose and why we were put on this earth at this time.
We need history, but we need it differently from the spoiled lazy-bones in the garden of knowledge.— Nietzsche, On the Use and Abuse of History for Life
The subject of historical cognition is the battling, oppressed class itself. In Marx it steps forwards as the final enslaved and avenging class, which carries out the work of emancipation in the name of generations of downtrodden to its conclusion. This consciousness, which for a short time made itself felt in the “Spartacus” [Spartacist splinter group, the forerunner to the German Communist Party], was objectionable to social democracy from the very beginning. In the course of three decades it succeeded in almost completely erasing the name of Blanqui, whose distant thunder [Erzklang] had made the preceding century tremble. It contented itself with assigning the working-class the role of the savior of future generations. It thereby severed the sinews of its greatest power. Through this schooling the class forgot its hate as much as its spirit of sacrifice. For both nourish themselves on the picture of enslaved forebears, not on the ideal of the emancipated heirs.
To see history as it really was outside of the narrative forced upon us, we see we are at the end of this long chain of historical cognition which seeks invariably for the enslavement of man under the yoke of state and law. We have the ever-increasing documentation of all the history of everything since the dawn of the internet to prove this point. Moving forward, the internet will continue to act as the l’ordre du jour ofall things — those who are vanquished today as Martyrs or Monsters will be remembered for all of time as just that. As Keller says, the truth will not run away from us.
Heroes like Blanqui are men that completely refuse the weakness of our fate, and sought only after the Final Destiny of Man. He understood that at the present time the entire life of our planet, from birth until death, is being documented day by day with all its crimes and misfortunes on a myriad of brother-stars, no matter which reality we are in. What we call progress is imprisoned on every earth, and fades away with each one as well. Always and everywhere in the terrestrial field the same drama, the same décor; on the same limited stage a boisterous humanity, infatuated with its greatness, believing itself to be the universe, and living in its prison as if it were immense spaces, only to soon fall along with the globe that carried — with the greatest disdain — the burden of its pride. The same monotony, the same immobility on foreign stars like our own, in alternative realities. The universe repeats itself endlessly and fidgets in place, returning back to the same steps to fulfill that which must be done. Eternity infinitely and imperturbably [imperturbabilis] acts out the same performance until the decision is made to walk into the Elysian fields and lay claim to the final destiny which was made only for us.
The decision to enter the gate, and close the door is ours — we only need to make that final decision.
Our amnesic society has allowed for less than a century of technological progress of petty and rough things to obliterate our hatred and sacrifices that were made in the name of such ‘progress’. If we can remember the crimes of today for the generations of tomorrow, and to document them as such for when their moment of their Justice comes, we can put offerings to the hearth of not the revolution, but the Reformation. This will stoke this flames of wrath to which will ignite our God to move toward His Throne with an impertinence and fury which can right things as only Apocalyptic force could. We will nourish ourselves on this image of tomorrow, for the profanity of today.
Yet every day our cause becomes clearer and the people more clever.— Josef Dietzgen, Social Democratic Philosophy
Social democratic theory, and still more the praxis, was determined by a concept of progress which did not hold to reality, but had a dogmatic claim. Progress, as it was painted in the minds of the social democrats, was once upon a time the progress of humanity itself (not only that of its abilities and knowledges). It was, secondly, something unending (something corresponding to an endless perfectibility of humanity). It counted, thirdly, as something essentially unstoppable (as something self-activating, pursuing a straight or spiral path). Each of these predicates is controversial, and critique could be applied to each of them. This latter must, however, when push comes to shove, go behind all these predicates and direct itself at what they all have in common. The concept of the progress of the human race in history is not to be separated from the concept of its progression through a homogenous and empty time. The critique of the concept of this progress must ground the basis of its critique on the concept of progress itself.
Simply because we progress forward into time does not mean human society has been progressing towards a more perfect society; in fact, quite the opposite. If we contemplate the messianic standpoint, the greatest progress that can occur is for the complete fall of humanity, and the welcomed rule of the Anti-Christ. However, The Fall cannot come about simply because the next moment has came; it must be part of the greater katechontic reveling of the horrors of history; the barbarism of society; the truth of man to himself.
It is only from this space of accepting responsibility for all of the ills that have fallen upon man, that the conditions for the return of the Messiah can be met: to bring about the end of times through the cessation of this ‘progress’ that is anything but. To forsake the profane, and seek redemption from a progress which has sacrificed the very life of man in the name of its one true profit.
Origin is the goal [Ziel: terminus].— Karl Kraus, Worte in Versen I [Words in Verse]
History is the object of a construction whose place is formed not in homogenous and empty time, but in that which is fulfilled by the here-and-now [Jetztzeit]. For Robespierre, Roman antiquity was a past charged with the here-and-now, which he exploded out of the continuum of history. The French revolution thought of itself as a latter day Rome. It cited ancient Rome exactly the way fashion cites a past costume. Fashion has an eye for what is up-to-date, wherever it moves in the jungle [Dickicht: maze, thicket] of what was. It is the tiger’s leap into that which has gone before. Only it takes place in an arena in which the ruling classes are in control. The same leap into the open sky of history is the dialectical one, as Marx conceptualized the revolution.
We create providence in the here-and-now; our volition alone is that which fills into the purportedly empty time (that is anything but) which we are falling into.
Some choose not to fall at all, but dive instead.
This is how Augustus came to Rule the known ancient world with Arcana Imperii. He saw that it was not a secret, but a fact which was empowered by its very bloody seal, of which he used his own life as a token to change the rules of the machine. Power did not need to be given, but refused; for power is what he already had.
The fascination with social media and the secrets it contains are a mere foreshadowing of the world to come. It should be no wonder that people pled before the court of Twitter and Facebook like that of being before their own sovereign nation to deliver truth, which in turn allows for some form of justice to be demanded.
It is this power which we seek to entice, to empower, and to take command.
The consciousness of exploding the continuum of history is peculiar to the revolutionary classes in the moment of their action. The Great Revolution introduced a new calendar. The day on which the calendar started functioned as a historical time-lapse camera. And it is fundamentally the same day which, in the shape of holidays and memorials, always returns. The calendar does not therefore count time like clocks. They are monuments of a historical awareness, of which there has not seemed to be the slightest trace for a hundred years. Yet in the July Revolution an incident took place which did justice to this consciousness. During the evening of the first skirmishes, it turned out that the clock-towers were shot at independently and simultaneously in several places in Paris. An eyewitness who may have owed his inspiration to the rhyme wrote at that moment:
Qui le croirait! on dit,
qu’irrités contre l’heure
De nouveaux Josués
au pied de chaque tour,
Tiraient sur les cadrans
pour arrêter le jour.
[Who would’ve thought! As though
Angered by time’s way
The new Joshuas
Beneath each tower, they say
Fired at the dials
To stop the day.]
There is another space and time where the revolution is a truth. Time here, as we understand it, is charged in a different way. Kairos is master here. For each second represents a new form of time, and eternity of the moment, where all hangs to be poured over again, and again, instituting its own glory by the very nature that man is a temporal thing. The signature of this hidden power is found in the determination to create a new form of time which signals the change of one epoch to the next.
The Great Revolution takes place in the space and time in which one personally knows the bodily sensation of totalizing own’s own life into single moments which crystalize in the glory of the face of death. The transcendental connection to those who had so valiantly came before us, and those who will perish after us, have the same bodily sensations which impels one to tremble with passion, or prattle with terror for the same reason. We are brothers and sisters united by our cause in the whole continuum of history; though set apart in linear time, and the particular glory of our cause, we are together in the passion of the moment which is the culmination of our history as it truly was.
We choose the glory to go to Elysium and to close the Door of Law now in order to go back to the country, the Arcadia from which we came.
The historical materialist cannot do without the concept of a present which is not a transition, in which time originates and has come to a standstill. For this concept defines precisely the present in which he writes history for his person. Historicism depicts the “eternal” picture of the past; the historical materialist, an experience with it, which stands alone. He leaves it to others to give themselves to the whore called “Once upon a time” in the bordello of historicism. He remains master of his powers: man enough, to explode the continuum of history.
Historical materialist see themselves as the product of all that has been and all that is to come — they see the infinite story that will be told again, and again, over, and over, until the story comes to it natural fruition of revolutionary explosion in which the eschatological moment is seized. Each generation is given this possibility. He see the single point in which he stands as the fulcrum into eternity, where time arrests and dissolves into the prophecy as it was foretold. Revolution is a drama more than a history, and its pathos is a condition as imperious as its authenticity.
The danger of historicism is the believing the religious tale that freezes history and renders it blind to what really was, not its existence itself. We need a free lover who hodls the secrets of tantra to afford us the experience of love as an act of self-care which can redeem us from this place. We need love as an action, not a fantasy. It is only with our utmost familiarity with the Magdalenes of the bordellos do the true secrets of god decrypt themselves to us.
This form of love can decrypt the lies of men — of authority, of money, of power, of language itself. Love decrypts these thing to understand the history and facts of men which makes the world. It is under the bludgeoned of their encrypted fiction that we will find the tale of a past given by historicism, and how it betrays itself by the nature of what it represents.
This historical materialist understands that his greatest power is to reveal the final truth in order to empower the past to explode the continuum of history into it final eternal moment into which all things can be weighed, judged, and resolved. Historicism as it really was always knew these things to be true, it just needs the final chapter to align the constellations into position.
Historicism justifiably culminates in universal history. Nowhere does the materialist writing of history distance itself from it more clearly than in terms of method. The former has no theoretical armature. Its method is additive: it offers a mass of facts, in order to fill up a homogenous and empty time. The materialist writing of history for its part is based on a constructive principle. Thinking involves not only the movement of thoughts but also their zero-hour [Stillstellung]. Where thinking suddenly halts in a constellation overflowing with tensions, there it yields a shock to the same, through which it crystallizes as a monad. The historical materialist approaches a historical object solely and alone where he encounters it as a monad. In this structure he cognizes the sign of a messianic zero-hour [Stillstellung] of events, or put differently, a revolutionary chance in the struggle for the suppressed past. He perceives it, in order to explode a specific epoch out of the homogenous course of history; thus exploding a specific life out of the epoch, or a specific work out of the life-work. The net gain of this procedure consists of this: that the life-work is preserved and sublated in the work, the epoch in the life-work, and the entire course of history in the epoch. The nourishing fruit of what is historically conceptualized has time as its core, its precious but flavorless seed.
Historicism is the culmination of all facts into one cohesive story — it is the data mining and synthesizing of all information towards a single, universal truth. The power of this method is in its agnosticism, while at the same time it inhibits its own ability to distinguish great events from small, as it is just data. While the materialist is still within the structuring of the story of time, he must assemble the facts to create the conception of a final-hour, a time in which all things can be righted, and the prophecies fulfilled.
Where thinking seizes, only actions can fill the void to fulfill the prophecy. It is in these moment that have been vanquished again, and again by the powers that be that are charged with the same conditions for The Chosen One to always be able to enter The Gates. It is through stringing all of these events together, showing how they will happen over and over again, being repeated infinitely until the Messiah come; is that which affords the opportunity to explode this epoch and finally close the door of the law from the city of men, once and for all.
“In relation to the history of organic life on Earth,” notes a recent biologist, “the miserable fifty millennia of homo sapiens represents something like the last two seconds of a twenty-four hour day. The entire history of civilized humanity would, on this scale, take up only one fifth of the last second of the last hour.” The here-and-now, which as the model of messianic time summarizes the entire history of humanity into a monstrous abbreviation, coincides to a hair with the figure, which the history of humanity makes in the universe.
It is by no mistake that Man is the most powerful he has ever been, and that it coincides with the most abhorrent travesties and barbarism beyond anything that could have ever been imagined before the 20th century.
There is something that we all know in our heart of hearts: that things could have been different. That we could live not only without hunger or fear, but freely with Libertas and Joy. And yet, at the same time — and all over the world — the social apparatus has become so hardened that what lies before us as a means of possible fulfillment presents itself as radically impossible.
It is only once we totally abandon the known forms of life and politics, and seek within ourselves the secret that the existence of another form-of-life could be true, that we will open the possibility of the Coming Community and the possibility of a kingdom of heaven on this earth in our life time.
Historicism contents itself with establishing a causal nexus of various moments of history. But no state of affairs is, as a cause, already a historical one. It becomes this, posthumously, through eventualities which may be separated from it by millennia. The historian who starts from this, ceases to permit the consequences of eventualities to run through the fingers like the beads of a rosary. He records [erfasst] the constellation in which his own epoch comes into contact with that of an earlier one. He thereby establishes a concept of the present as that of the here-and-now, in which splinters of messianic time are shot through.
Historicism is the facts of history as they are encrypted to their very being. However, the key is not lost. Through the posthumous keen observation towards the past, counting the events as rosary, with each one connecting itself to the greater constellation of the immensity it contains, the focus of everything changes as the scrutiny intensifies. This coming into focus produces the real heros as they really were. Though vanquished and forgotten to their own, their story awaits the test of time, to be retold through the connection to our own here-and-now. Each event and the Truth it contains creates another star in our constellation which can lead the way through the dark night. With each star that is counted another bead is pasted in the rosary, the splintered shards of the mirror are gathered to reflect the same infinite image, offering themselves towards the summoning of the final moment of this time.
This is how we find our way out.
Surely the time of the soothsayers, who divined what lay hidden in the lap of the future, was experienced neither as homogenous nor as empty. Whoever keeps this in mind will perhaps have an idea of how past time was experienced as remembrance: namely, just the same way. It is well-known that the Jews were forbidden to look into the future. The Torah and the prayers instructed them, by contrast, in remembrance. This disenchanted those who fell prey to the future, who sought advice from the soothsayers. For that reason the future did not, however, turn into a homogenous and empty time for the Jews. For in it every second was the narrow gate, through which the Messiah could enter.
What was time like before modernity and the regimented ticking of the clock? In no way did all time have its measurement, homogeneity, or distance — there would only be the memory, or longing of what had been. Holidays to remember, celebrations to be had, and moments of only life to be recounted. The morning differed from the evening, as much as day differed from night; time itself was the precious gem that was life itself. We only have one life which we can live, and we are still waiting with the gate of Law before us.
The gate is narrow, but it was made for only for our refusal, and only for Mahdi to close, and to welcome the Messiah into the home of the country, the private lives of our hearts.
9603 5B76 C99B 9105