One of the most commonly observed natural phenomena around us is that of turbulence. We experience turbulence everywhere that we see fluid flow – in the air which airplanes pass through, in the wakes of boats traveling in the water, in the rising of smoke and the movement of clouds, and many other everyday things. Yet, for all of its commonness, turbulence is still little understood and is difficult to control or predict. Turbulence is a chaotic phenomenon, in the “chaos theory” sense of the term. Most commonly, a chaotic system is one which exhibits the property of sensitivity to initial conditions. Essentially, chaotic systems are deterministic, meaning that given their current conditions, their evolution can (in theory) be completely predicted. However, in practice, chaotic systems (such as those exhibiting turbulent flow) will diverge from the expected evolution because of this sensitivity to the initial conditions. Any arbitrarily small perturbation of the system will result in significantly divergent future behaviour. In essence, while one *could* completely predict the evolution of a chaotic system, because of our inability to measure and control with sufficient precision, even extremely small differences from “theory” will lead to large changes in the system from what we thought we would observe, based on determinism alone. There are other properties which must be present for a dynamical system to be classified as chaotic, but these tend to be more highly technical and will not be discussed here.
Turbulence will begin to occur in a dynamic fluid flow system when a threshold in flow energy and velocity is reached which leads to chaotic changes in localised flow velocity and fluid pressure. Once a certain amount of energy (typically represented by velocity, which is related to kinetic energy in the system) is reached in a flow system, it transitions from laminar flow (smooth, even flow characterised by parallel layers of fluid which lack lateral mixing) to turbulent. As a result, the eddies and vortices which identify a turbulent system become apparent in the system. The more energy you add to a flowing fluid system, the closer you get to that threshold for turbulent behaviour until you eventually cross it.
Turbulent flows demonstrate several characteristics.
An increasingly common term that we are seeing in Western political discourse is “narrative.” Everybody has their narrative. The news media build a narrative, politicians create their narratives, entire governments produce narratives which they wish for their populations to consume unquestioningly. The term essentially refers to the version of events, coupled with the interpretation (aka spin) of those events, that the narrative-builder wishes for the consumer to believe, nearly always in contravention to what is plainly visible before our eyes. Who are you going to believe? The narrative builder telling you something you likely want to hear, or your lying eyes?
In previous writings, I’ve criticised the prevalence of ideology over pragmatism in too much of what goes on in our social and political systems. Obviously, in doing so I am not condemning the process of having a comprehensive worldview, per se, which informs our interpretation of the world around us and which directs how we respond to the stimuli we receive from our environment. This is what we often think of when we use the term “ideology,” and pretty much everyone has one, even if those held by most people are shallow and ill-conceived.
Instead, I tend to use the term “ideology” in these contexts as a functional synonym for “narrative,” only on a grander scale. An ideology, essentially, is an institutionalised narrative, a comprehensive “story” that is told to explain not just one, but an entire world full of stimuli which must be “read” a certain way for the ideologue to be and remain comfortable. As with situational narratives, ideologies tend to suffer from a distinct lack of accord with reality. Or put another way, they seek to bend reality to the needs of the ideology, rather than the other way around. Most commonly understood ideologies on both Left and Right, whether Socialism or Libertarianism, suffer from this defect. They not only view the world, but also then try to treat the world, as they wish it were rather than as it really is.
The West is the world’s sick man. I think that just about anyone with any knowledge of the current state of world affairs would recognise the truth of this statement. While still wielding a great, perhaps even preponderant, amount of military and economic power on paper, the Western nations have increasingly shown themselves to be riddled with feckless “leadership” and a blatant unwillingness to defend themselves against foreign subversion and the invasion of millions of hostile foreign nationals entering under the guise of “refugees” and “immigration.” The failure is not one of capability, but of will. The West is a patient lying on his sickbed who refuses to take the medicine that will assuredly make him well. Instead, he continues to wrestle with his fever while blaming the doctors who prescribe for him his cure.
It’s obvious that the current state of affairs in the West cannot and will not continue for very long. Our societies are very far out of accord with nature, and our unnatural, high-energy transition state situation is going to tip over the edge and drop into a lower energy well of one sort or another. It has generally been one of the goals of Tradition and neoreaction to be ready for this “Great Reset” event (or series of events, more likely), and to become worthy, accept power when it presents itself, and then rule. Typically involved with this is the notion of a “restoration” of the West, a return to the things that made the West natural and good, while hopefully avoiding a repetition of the things that have brought us to our present point. The point to this post is to delve somewhat into what the nature of this restoration might look like, if indeed there is to be a restoration. But to do that, I’d first like to cover and analyse, in brief, some history of “the West” and use the previous “restorations” to draw some conclusions.
When we talk about “the West” or “Western civilisation,” these terms are usually used with varying degrees of precision depending on the speaker or writer. However, I think the most broad and generally understandable definition (which I will, as a result, use here) is that “the West” is a long, semi-continuous succession of civilisational “stages” that first became identifiable around the 6th century BC in Greece, and which continue to the present day. Each succeeding civilisation is like a storey in a building built upon the previous ones. These stages each contributed something to what we now call Western civilisation.
It is becoming increasingly apparent to all reasonable observers that democracy in the Western world is a failure as a stable governing system. The reasons for this are obvious. Democracy encourages interfactional conflicts within a political state as various special interest and racial pressure groups each seek to seize as much political power from each other as possible. Indeed, democracy can be said to be a root cause of the current crisis we see in the Western nations in which they are being flooded with hostile and inassimilable foreigners from the Third World. The reason they are being invited here is so that leaders of the Blue Empire can essentially replace the intractable native populations with (presumably) more pliable ones who will be open to socialism and globalism, which is essentially what Steve Sailer pointed out was taking place years ago in Bahrain and Libya. From a stability and cohesion standpoint, democracy is toxic. It’s a superfund site which can only be dealt with by digging it out of the earth in toto and burying it in a lead-lined vault for a hundred centuries.
One of the most serious intrinsic weaknesses of democracy is the prevalence of factionalism. Now, no system is immune to this problem. Even monarchies and aristocracies will see varying levels of infighting between factions. However, this type of factionalism is usually confined to cliques which develop around various personalities in court, and rarely spills over into the nation at large. Aristocratic factionalism is almost never something which affects the lives of the common people or which excites them to themselves “choose sides” and undermine the overall social cohesion and order in the nation.
The same cannot be said of democratic factionalism, however. By its very nature, democratic factionalism seeks to mobilise large masses of ideologically motivated people in the service of a preferred political outcome. Whereas monarchic/aristocratic systems usually contain built-in safeguards which act to prevent interfactional strife from escalating to open conflict, the history of democracy, whether ancient or modern, lacks these. Hence, when a democratic system begins to break down, such as occurred in ancient 4th century Athens and in the German Weimar Republic between 1924 – 1932, it is not uncommon for open factional warfare even to take place.
The word “meritocracy” is one which we’ve seen thrown around a lot in recent years. In theory, the word would describe the rule by those with the most “merit” (which would, on its face, seem to make it a synonym for aristocracy, but in practice this is most certainly not the case). As it is popularly used in the media and other outlets, it tends to take on a very narrow definition, with “merit” appearing to be used synonymously with “bureaucrat” or “public policy wonk.” In other words, those which our society considers to have merit are those who would more properly be classified as “experts.”
The problem with this is that being “an expert” (however this is defined) is not the same as being a meritorious person.
Indeed, “experts” tend to be those whose range of knowledge and experience are very narrowly circumscribed, focusing intently on one extremely restricted area of study to the exclusion of most everything else. John Glanton provided a very good example of this in his discussion of meritocracy and gameability, when he noted the difference between students who are good spellers because they are widely read versus students in the national spelling bee competitions who are good spellers only because of their, frankly, aberrant devotion to memorising pre-determined lists of words,
In my previous post, I discussed the question of nationalism, and why the traditional understanding of a “nation” based off of culture, mores, and traditions is superior to the modernistic “genetics only” view held by some, including most of white nationalism. Because I reject the genetics-only view, this leaves open the possibility of the introduction of outsiders into a national group, provided they assimilate and acculturate themselves to the culture and folkways of the nation they are joining. A reader made a comment on that post with respect to the relative good of preserving absolute genetic distinction in a nation (i.e. no outsiders coming in) versus the polar alternative, which is what our current system is approaching in which anyone and everyone from anywhere in the world for any reason whatsoever is allowed to come into western nations. He observed that both of these extremes are…suboptimal…and that, “The optimum is somewhere in the middle.”
As part of my response to this comment, I noted that,
“There’s always room for the introduction of ‘out-group genetics,’ of course, which has largely been the history of the United States, though it doesn’t *seem* as pronounced because most of the groups being grafted on to the old Anglo stock were people who looked at least reasonably similar to them, and shared a good degree of genetic commonality with them anywise.”
This discussion dovetails quite nicely with some thoughts I’ve been having recently about the efficacy of immigration and how immigration can be “engineered” to benefit the receiving nation (in this case, America and other western nations, but in theory this could apply to any nation).
Anyone familiar with the Alt-Right (which term I am using broadly to identify all “non-mainstream” Right movements, from anti-political correctness all the way to neoreaction) has surely heard a great deal about nationalism by now. At its most basic level, nationalism is conventionally understood to refer to the belief that a nation should be able to exist autonomously and independently apart from the domination of others, and that the good of the nation should be placed ahead of international or global concerns. As such, there is really a rather large group of positions which crop up among alt-Righters, all of which are considered by those holding them to be “nationalism.”
Generally speaking, I think these positions can be aggregated into two general groups. First, you have the nationalism held by those who would often call themselves “white nationalists,” who would tend to focus on the issue of race, primarily from a genetic aspect. The other nationalism would be that which focuses its attention on culture and on the organic existence and evolution of nations as cultural and social groupings. This latter form is what I would subscribe to when referring to myself as a “nationalist.”
In a previous post, I essentially laid out my description of what a “nation” is. The best and most natural definition of a nation is that given by God Himself when He used it in the original languages in which the Holy Scripture were revealed. In Greek, the term for “nation” as it relates to “the nations of the world” is ethnos. The conceptually cognate term in Hebrew is goyiim. In both languages, the terms come from root words which essentially describe a group of people who are joined by the same language, traditions, mores, rituals, etc. In other words, culture and society. A “nation” is a group of people who share the same cultural outlook, the same general set of beliefs, assumptions, and presuppositions about the world around them and of their relations to each other. My belief is that any definition beyond this one necessarily rests on some level of artificiality, removing it to a greater or lesser degree from the realm of realism.
One of the supreme guiding principles of Tradition and neoreaction is that of the restoration of right order within society. We live in an age in which far too many ideologies and political movements are seeking to “immanentise their eschatons.” Unfortunately, since you can only have one utopia at a time, this struggle of theories leads to a great deal of social disorder. This is especially the case when many of these ideologies refuse to bring themselves into accord with fundamental realities about the way societies, and even human beings, really work. Those of us on the reactionary Right desire to obviate the obvious results of all of this confusion by seeking a return back to hierarchy and order.
As a result, we reject the innovations which have arisen out of the Enlightenment and its revolutionary bastard children. The social disorder introduced by the false god of “Liberty” leads to revolution, passes through democracy, and results in the entropic heat death of a society addicted to equalitarianism and radicalised individualism. It is toward this end that all of the children of Whiggery – whether modern liberalism or modern conservatism/libertarianism – inevitably regress.
Yet, what will really restore order? A partial answer to this question, at least, will be provided by gaining a right understanding of the relationship between power, authority, and legitimacy within a society. These three concepts are often conflated in modern writing. Yet, they are not the same. However, they are related in that they form a three step ladder ascending toward good governance and right social order.
In previous posts, I have mentioned something which I refer to as the “natural aristocracy,” which should form the leadership caste within a well-ordered polity. My views on social order demand the rejection of democracy and allied systems which “spread around” authority within a society, leading to increased social entropy and an unnatural, increasingly non-functional social system. Instead, authority and power should be concentrated in the hands of that “wise few” whose energies and abilities are used to provide guidance and direction to a society so that it may be provided with competent, good government and that it may retain rational social structures which are in line with the natural order of things.
Typically in human history, aristocracies have consisted of those who are considered nobles by birth (hereditary aristocracy) or else who gain and keep power through their access to wealth and other resources (plutocracy). While these do not always coincide completely with the natural aristocracy of which I’ll be writing, there is a great deal of consequential overlap, which I will discuss below.
When we talk about an aristocracy being “natural,” what we don’t (or at least shouldn’t) mean is that there is some group of people who are “inherently” superior to their fellows in society, as through genetics or some other deterministic means. Rather, we should understand the term to be describing those who make the effort to adopt, cultivate, and perfect certain traits and capabilities in their own lives that will “naturally” make them stand out from and excel the general run of the masses, simply because the possession of these derived traits will make one superior to those who lack them. In other words, it is not an aristocracy that exists through no merit of its own. Rather, it is an aristocracy that rises to the top as the cream does from the milk, through nourishing their inborn traits by self-discipline while fostering new ones through effort and activity.
When discussing macroscopic systems, it is common to see the term “entropy” employed as a way of describing the tendency of a system to progress towards greater disorder. In our everyday lives, we are familiar with the fact that as machines are used, for instance, they tend to break down. Likewise, we all have observed that a building, if left to itself, will eventually decay and fall apart due to the actions of nature. In each case, we see a progression from order to disorder, from usefulness to disusefulness.
The scientific definitions of entropy are somewhat different, and more precise, than this colloquial sense of the term. However, they still tend to reinforce the macroscopic, empirical sense of entropy which most of us would recognise. There are two primary definitions which physicists use to describe entropy: the thermodynamic and the statistical. In the first, entropy is thought of as the tendency of a system to reach thermal equilibrium on the microscopic scale – within a system not already in equilibrium, heat flows from the hot portion to the cold portion until a new equilibrium temperature is reached, accompanied by an increase in entropy within the overall system. It is useful to think of this increase in entropy as “energy dispersal,” and entropy can be viewed as an increase in heat that is unavailable to do work – i.e. it is waste heat, it cannot be harnessed to drive mechanical or chemical processes within the system.
The second definition is statistical and is related to the thermodynamic one in that it describes the increase in available “microstates” – specific configurations which the atoms and molecules of the materials making up the system in question may take – that are probabilistically available to the system. The greater the entropy, the more microstates are available, with the probability of each microstate being occupied being equal with all others. The macroscopic result is that, again, a system tends toward equilibrium, toward the greatest number of probable microstates – atomic and molecular configurations – which may exist system wide and which are reflected in the specific macroscopic quantities such as temperature and pressure arrived at in the system. In short, disorder is more probable than order, and systems naturally tend toward it.