A cause for pause, is James Higham’s post about the Frankfurt (Marxism) School.
It is salutary to recognise the source, breadth and depth of the encroaching darkness and to see so clearly delineated the anti-human foulness of those who have brought it about. To grasp the enormity of the destruction they have wrought out of their arrogant belief in the overriding, ineluctable truth of their theory. To survey the effect on us all of their concerted will to force us by lies, brainwashing and subversion to conform ourselves and our lives, our behaviour and imagination, our very selves, to their corrupting dystopia.
The brutality inherent in their project to eliminate millennia of human development and growth, to destroy cultures, minds and lives and to create anomie, suffering, bewilderment and anarchy on a scale which even two world wars, two nuclear bombs, a Tojo, a Hitler and a Stalin together could not achieve, is appalling. They seriously wanted, and their disciples fervently intend, to reduce our society to Year Zero, to start again under their beneficent leadership.
And yet these mutually masturbatory men (men? but look, there’s Caroline Lucas, hiding in the Green Corner) are saints to many of today’s politicians. They are lauded in Academe where any who name their wickedness for what it is are excluded from conversation in its groves: swivel-eyed moral untermenschen, outcast from the university. The Marxists, meanwhile, name scholarly institutes in each others’ honour and filch the necessary funding out of the pockets of the poor, deluded, taxpaying lumpenproletariat. They are spoken of in awed tones in the media and intellectual salons.
It is the demoralising effect of daily realisation of the absolute reality of this nihilistic wickedness which increasingly renders me disinclined if not actually unable to blog. (And yet, here I sit… ) Day after day I find myself thinking, ‘What is the point? Of this – or of any form of protest? Their Final Solution is coming, it seems, but so slowly that it will not reach its apotheosis in my lifetime, so why do I not just close my eyes and enjoy the scent of the roses?’ I am getting older, and the dreadful truth of the ongoing destruction of our society, its history, its values, its people’s lives, is making me feel older than I am. So maybe they are defeating me. As of course they always said they would.
The cultural Marxists are ascendant. Gramsci in particular is proving triumphant. Marxist anti-culture has an iron grip on all aspects of life in Western society, and most of all on education. Subtle Marxist seditionists and their useful (intelligent-seeming) idiots, in all sorts of motley, are working determinedly to prohibit and then eliminate those last resistant tendencies of the human subject which they cannot control. The innate human religious impulse comes to mind as an example. I wonder to observe myself thinking (and Orphans may be the most improbable place to see it written, but), ‘Thank God for American Christian fundamentalists. The last bastion? If even they fall to the Frankfurt School, they will at least have the honour of having fought the good fight, of having run the race to its finish, and they did better than I’.
But it’s looking increasingly like the Marxists will have their wish: society will be destroyed by their hands and the hands of those whom they corrupt.
And then what will they do? Obviously the Marxist elite (for it will be they who govern) will deploy arms and terror in order, as a sine qua non, to ensure minimally sufficient order (let us not speak of law or justice) in the new wasteland to provide themselves, if no-one else, with food and water. And quite possibly a few little comforts, but let us not be bitter. They are doing all this for our own good, after all.
Will there be killing fields? Maybe. But surely not. The driven-snow Critical Theory-ists and New Left-ists – the Georg Lukacs-es, Willhelm Reichs and Adolphe (‘Ralph’) Milibands of our day, are too squeamish for such brutal honesty, too dainty to dirty their hands. Perhaps they are, rather, the progeny of Fotherington-Thomas and Madeleine Bassett, believing that their nihilism will achieve its ends bloodlessly, painlessly, over the Primrose Hill (fair trade) tea table, or over Kaffee und Kuchen in the Römerplatz. They never look out of the double-glazed, soundproof windows in their gentle ivory towers, elite clubs and smart thinktanks, to see the suffering their works have already caused. If they do see it, they deny that is it their work and blame it on Capitalism.
And after the Revolution, when they have won, when all is reduced to the wasteland of their wet dreams, to Year One or Year Zero, what then? When they start to ‘rebuild’, will they give us a potty post-civilisation calendar, in the authentic Révolutionaire tradition?
One can’t help wondering how serviceable dialetical materialism will look when dialetics are banished in favour of mute submission to the Peoples’ Commissars and the only material known to the People is the cold ashes of their homes and some of their former occupants, of their contemptible ‘cathedrals’ and schools, of their despicable false-consciousness ‘writings’, ‘paintings’ and ‘music’ manuscripts. Still. The Commissars will no doubt have a Five Year Plan handy so it’ll all work out as well as… Uncle Joe’s Five Year Plans. Or Gordon Brown’s. (Couldn’t resist, sorry.)
But how will they prevent the masses from singing counter-revolutionary songs by the waters of the new Babylon? From weaving their dreams of home and liberty into new poems and compiling them into samizdat books to be passed down the generations? How will they stop the lumpenkinder from hearing their parents’ tales of old legends of liberty whispered around the shitfire, and dreaming heroic dreams of one day breaking free from the tyranny of the Commissars?
What will history and indeed historical inevitability look like, after the righteous, caring Marxists have won?
Something spookily like this can be seen over at my own blog.