Jester’s Privilege
Lost in the fever dream of the Vitalist Right
We are told of the foolish man who built his house upon sand. “And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and they beat upon that house, and it fell, and great was the fall thereof.”
This error is being repeated on the Vitalist Right. This is a movement that is built upon the sands of the internet, across which the violent winds of discourse rage, but there is no rock to be found.
It is a disembodied space - a space of pure voice, lacking physicality, akin to those deserts in which only demons dwell, whose whispers are carried upon the howling winds and the blowing sands.
A place in which nothing can be built has neither future nor past. It is a liminal space, meant only to be passed through, a space that serves as the connective tissue between one state and the next, but which has no meaningful independent existence. As
describes:We should understand that the liminal spaces themselves are not order or structure, neither do they create form from chaos… The liminal spaces are, in essence, places which exist outside of these regions of order, between and transitional to them…
We cannot make our home in the liminal. Yet this is where we seem to be trapped, lost in transition, never able to emerge as a movement into a physical state in which we can build lasting structures. We feel a furious forward momentum that never actually carries us a single step forwards.
Time spent in this limbo causes harm. A land with no bodies - only voice - lends itself to the worst kind of discourse between men: that which lacks the threat of physical violence. The fact that we can say the most heinous things about each other without ever coming to blows makes women of us all. In this artificial social fabric, resolution can never be achieved, only endless gossip and backbiting.
The masculinist project will never succeed in a space with the social dynamics of a girls school. There can be no kings, warriors, or heroes in the void.
But there is one who thrives in this environment: the jester, the trickster. The disembodied land presents the ultimate jester’s privilege: the luxury of the jester to provoke without fear of violent retribution. The environment creates selective pressures that elevates the jester to a place far above his proper stature. He had endless targets to mock (many of whom deserve the derision), a vast audience to clap for him, and no one to check his excesses.
In the king’s absence, the jester takes the vacant throne. All eyes are on him, all the time. But his nature, his instincts, and his abilities - so valuable in their proper setting - are disastrous in the role of leadership.
The jester is a necessary character, challenging the status-quo, exerting a changing power over the powerful through the use of humor, insight, and transgression.
A purer vision of this archetype is provided by the Greek conception of Hermes, messenger of the Oympians and divine trickster. Hermes was understood as the master of transitions and the traversing of boundaries, “not only physical thresholds but, more importantly, thresholds between states of human experience: between day and night, sleep and wakefulness, between consciousness and that of which we are unconscious, between life and death.”
Like the element mercury, he was the great dissolving agent, making hidden things visible. He was the agent of transformation, changing others while remaining unchanged himself.
…by passing through the hidden boundaries which we create and yet of which we remain unaware… we enter myth, the imaginative awareness of life that answers questions about who we are, where we have come from, and where we are going.
He was amoral, the inbetween, the elusive connecting principle. He lightened the entrenched relationships between things before slipping away like quicksilver. This erosion of the established structures and dogmas acted as the catalyst for revolution, evolution, and change. His appearance initiated dreams and the possibility of progress.
But in a land in which nothing can be built, there is no physical reality to recrystallize his passengers into. There is no definite vision for what people should become or do. Frantic visions of possibilities, dreams, and unrealities are presented before disappearing without a trace, like a never-ending Tunnel of Terror.
In a space of pure voice, silence is death - and so the Jester fears tranquility. He stirs up nervous energy relentlessly. His is a necessarily social role, and he cannot be alone. He always needs someone to mock and an audience to perform for, a structure to undermine and boundaries to traverse. When the jester becomes king, all is chaos, and progress impossible.
Know this: you, reader, can step out of the void. Do not become trapped in this space of false change. We ask too much of Hermes when we crown him. We must allow him to slip away as we find our own firm-footing. We must pass through the chaos, and re-form; embodied, silent, decisive, and alone.
Nietzsche tells of the virtue of solitude:
I go into solitude so as not to drink out of everybody's cistern. When I am among the many I live as the many do, and I do not think I really think. After a time it always seems as if they want to banish myself from myself and rob me of my soul.
À Kempis tells of the virtue of silence:
Often I wish I had remained silent, and had not been among men. But why is it that we are so ready to chatter and gossip with each other, when we so seldom return to silence without some injury to our conscience?
Jünger tells of the virtue of decision:
In the liberal world, what one considered a “good” face was, properly speaking, the delicate face - nervous, pliant, changing, and open to the most diverse kinds of influences and impulses. By contrast, the disciplined face is resolute; it possesses clear direction, and it is single-minded, objective, and unyielding.
The Vitalist Right now often indulges in derision of Christians. I will respect this criticism more once they return to the world of the real, in which they deal in action and not dreams.
And the overflowings of the sea appeared, and the foundations of the world were laid open at the rebuke of the Lord, at the blast of the spirit of his wrath. He sent from on high, and took me, and drew me out of many waters.
Build your houses upon rock, dear friends.
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Sic transit imperium,
Johann
Ultimately all that we do here is to sharpen ourselves for what we do in the real. Ways of seeing, ways of understanding, ways of moving. None of it is meant to be passively absorbed, but actively made use of.
Everyone should ask themselves why they're learning from these spaces and what they're using it for; if there is no clear answer then you have been called to deeper reflection.
Acta non verba. To me, blackpilling is not an option. Not because things look bright, but because despair in the light of Providence is unbelief. Blackpilling is the man who buried his talent. "Be faithful unto death, and I will give you a crown of life." That is the aim, that is the glory and honor we seek. We seek it, and build here where we can, while we can, and sometimes in silence.
I recently listened to a great lecture on the Christianity of George Washington, (https://open.spotify.com/episode/4XGcumfp1qNG4NEAdQmCBJ?si=eDJ03jYBTKC3_GK9pa4Axw) a topic that mainstream history really likes to hide or discredit. One of his family mottos was, "Deeds, not words,” which, if any of his statements was lived it, it was that.