Spengler, History, and Sin

Harold Town, Spengler Writing The Decline of the West at His Desk on Top of the Kitchen Table, 1980

Having recently obtained an abridged translation of Oswald Spengler’s Decline of the West, I’ve decided I will refute its main claim before I read the book. Yes, this is somewhat presumptuous, but when a student of medieval thought apprehends any German thinker, his sober speculation often penetrates the heart of the work better than his obscured pointing, his drunkenness on sensational particulars that inevitably succeeds a good reading. The claim in question is that with which Spengler opens his book: he will predict, as has been never done before, the death of a civilization before it happens; namely, the West. The question that follows pertains to human will: how can man, especially the average man, have any effect on history when it is so determined that it can be predicted accurately and with certainty?

Spengler adopts a model of history much inspired by Goethe: civilizations live as organisms. They have a lifespan consisting of a development period and a decay period, paralleling the human life each step along the way. The model can be juxtaposed with the Hindu Yugas, which is a four-stage deterioration beginning with a golden age and ending with the apocalyptic Kali Yuga. Both are compatible with Christianity; the former parallels with Christ’s Incarnation at full organismic development – “the fullness of time” (Galatians 4:4) – and the latter echoes the praise of infantile qualities that Christ delivers in the Gospels. But as Spengler’s English counterpart, Toynbee, states, the decline and death of a civilization is inflicted not by some grand apocalypse, but by a thousand papercuts. And the sickness and death of human life has been inflicted upon us by original sin.

The west’s decline could be attributed to a number of watershed moments throughout the Renaissance, and these undoubtedly serve as checkpoints for the manner of deterioration. However, each of these “papercut” events have papercuts themselves, rooted in collections of trivial human actions. Here is where human agency meets the collective whole, and where the Christian doctrine of sin comes to temporal fruition. Just as the death of civilizations has a kind of inevitability, so does our personal sin. And this sin is what gives the downward trajectory of history its momentum: the vainglory of a writer, the greed of a publisher, and the weakness of any other mediators, are all that is required for a historical event.

Of course, it would be an exaggeration to say each of our actions have cosmological effects; it would be statistically more accurate to say you have no influence on anything grand. But with a human mind that thinks in extremes, perhaps imagining that our virtue and vice has a little bit of influence over historical events is more pragmatically beneficial. Moreover, as of Christ’s Incarnation, the acts of the individual member of the Church Militant have virtually cosmological effects, in that our cosmos are determined by the way we live and think: heaven or hell.

A final thought to entertain: perhaps the moral agency of historical figures is actually minimal in the events they precipitate. Who knows whether medieval excellency resulted from the prayers of a few, or whether the French Revolution could’ve been prevented the same way? Teresa of Avila was told that her short session of meditative prayer caused the conversion of 1000 souls, so maybe history should mean nothing to us. Regardless, the subject does reflect God, and Spengler seems like a fun and informative read. I will eventually confirm whether these ideas still hold after I’m done reading the book.

Against Clocks

Continuing my tirade against basic household items, I'd like to draw attention to the sequential view of time, embodied by clocks, and how it renders our view of reality handicapped. Recently I've taken up a more philosophical study of music, which is of course the art form proper to time, in that it doesn't occupy space. This is true not only of music which progresses, but even of singular momentary pitches and beats, since the resonance of the sounds are air particles in rapid fluctuation, necessarily over a period of time: hence the term "frequency" used to refer to singular pitches. The fact elicits wonder about the celestial music of the angels in heaven, where popular opinion dictates time does not exist (although minimal reflection shows that bodily beings, such as ourselves, undergo change by necessity).

However, time is not as strict as we make it. Few ancient philosophers treat time with any great scrutiny - undoubtedly because time is change, while Being is unchanging - although Aristotle states that it is "a measure of motion." This delineates not only the dependence of time on space for meaning, but also its insignificance to us: it is simply how we measure change. If we do not detect change, time does not really happen to us; this obsolesces the undetectable "change" taking place when one sings a singular, prolonged note. Only when time becomes isolated in Cartesian phase space does it take on a character of its own, and one which is so illusory it evades definition. Indeed, Spengler quotes Augustine in addressing the problem of time, where Augustine roughly states that he knows what it is in his mind, but when asked to define it, he no longer knows. Thus, to aid in its comprehensibility, we have no way to see it except as a sequence of moments; rather than an extension, it is a series of discontinuous points. This precipitated the downward spiral of music, when linear notation of Gregorian Chant was substituted by Guido for singular spots or squares. Minutes and seconds, unlike the hours, days and beyond that are spoken by astrology, are inventions designed to be rhythmically detectable, such that we never exit the present blip; seconds have no substance between them, and so every moment, necessarily falling within a second, has no substance at all; everything means nothing.

The fiendish blink of the clock is a brutish reminder of our autistic scientism and isolation from ourselves. The contours of a day's hours are no longer felt in the soaring of the sun's rays, but in constant mechanical hiccups that drain the blood from our actions. Rather than synchronizing ourselves with the universe by observing the spheres for indications of our current age, we jolt and jerk with digital instances of infinitesimal value. Unfortunately, clocks are made indispensable by the culture of scheduled nowness, so ridding oneself of time-telling means is impractical. Hopefully the neo-Feudal-paleo peasants of the 2030 West will have that chance.

Dave Rubin is Retarded

Not every disabled person uses a wheelchair

I watched Matt Fradd interview Dave Rubin the other day, which was some of the most mind-numbing crap I've ever seen. I never liked Dave - he's a pretty stupid gay man - but this interview reinforced it all. He doesn't talk about anything, he only talks about talking about things. He doesn't understand that freedom of speech is of no use when speech is never used for substantial truth. The few opinions he holds fast to are utterly dim; how can a guy who talks to so many smart people and who proports to be an "intellectual" actually describe himself as "begrudgingly pro-choice"?

He seems to arrive at the post-modern sentiment that truth is relative, although he doesn't come out of the closet and say it. The only difference between him and loud-mouthed far-left-wingers is that the latter fear the substance and reality of what the right pronounces. The same pronouncements go in one ear and out the other for Dave, which is the only reason he's so willing to allow controversial speakers on his show. I cringed hard when someone called him a Sodomite in the live chat, and he said "you have the right to that opinion, that's not what I believe" without even getting mad! Fucking moron, he doesn't even want truth! A lost cause, as far as I'm concerned.

On Drunkenness

 

A couple weeks ago I attended a bonfire that was not very much to my liking, so I kept my new bottle of Forty Creek Copper Pot close to my side. A little too close, apparently; the next morning I awoke dizzy with disgust and soreness, and my bedding was covered in vomit. Examining the remainder of the bottle, I determined that I had imbibed five hundred mills of the forty-percent beverage. Accordingly, the next eight hours were spent detoxing, and I vomited ten more times, the worst hangover my well-seasoned roommate had ever seen.

This morning I read a letter of Seneca regarding drunkenness, which made an interesting observation: to the drunk, "constant motion is his home." This dizziness or false motion, as well as the passiveness of thoughts and senses that characterize drunkenness, produce a non-being full of restlessness; a shaking ghost; a violent phantom without a place to lay his head. Such seems the lot of the demons: spiritual beings who have lost all sense of good. Gregory of Nyssa, in his Life of Moses, describes the process of sanctification as an infinite ascent, an acceleration deeper into the inner life of the Eternal God. The demonic, drunken state, then, is the same, but in the opposite direction; it is a downward spiral toward nothingness, eternal change, heat death, utter chaos.

I pray we find rest in God. Be careful with the drink.

Evolution is a Regression, not a Progression

Sanctity!

The claim that we are "progressing" and becoming better over time is repeated ad nauseum in our left-wing civilization, so it was comforting to hear that a convincing opposite perspective exists in some religious historical models. The Hindu model of history portrays a descent of humankind over the course of four dharmic ages; in meditating on this, I thought about an argument against the supposed ascent of the evolutionary model of Darwin, rooted in Zoroastrianism. This argument proceeds assuming evolution is true; whether it really is or not won't be discussed here.

• Humans have a supernatural end; namely, to look upon God.
• God is immaterial; likewise, we must become detached from material things in order to be united with God.
• Evolution, however, adapts us to our environment on earth, so that we are more united to it. According to evolutionary principles, we are smarter, more comfortable, more secure, and more pleasured with materiality than any point in history prior.
• In an inverse manner, then, we are more distant from the immaterial God, and, therefore, more distant from our own end, which is union with Him.
• Evolution, then, is a regression of true human nature.

This is doubtless in my mind. I think in our day and age, we can still maybe get to heaven by the intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary. But I don't doubt that heaven is brimming with proto-humans, whose mysterious communion with the Logos preceded the necessity of sacraments. As Jeremiah 6:16 says, "Stand ye on the ways, and see and ask for the old paths which is the good way, and walk ye in it: and you shall find refreshment for your souls."

Against Mirrors

Henry Rollins knows...

Mirrors have been integrated so wholly into modern interior decoration that the eye glazes over them; indeed, the mirror itself is invisible. But they are sneaking and malicious entities, venomous snakes blended into the foliage of space.

One could make the obvious point that mirrors are the beacon of vanity and self-lust. This is true, but not only that: they carry a quality of inversion. One finds photographs of himself uncanny or distasteful when he is too familiar with mirrors; this is because the self-image is flipped horizontally. Right becomes left, and vice versa (quite significant when one considers the Biblical significance of orientation). The composition of mirrors, too, share this inverted quality. Silver, along with glass, is the key metal in the mirror effect and the main component, suggesting a vulgarization of the sacred (read "The Significance of Metallurgy" from Rene Guenon's Reign of Quantity for an expanded idea). Judas' betrayal of Christ for silver pieces illustrates this inversion further; good is used for evil, selfish purposes.

An expanded essay could undoubtedly be written on the subject, dealing with the mirror's literary, cultural, and/or Biblical significance (1 Cor. 13:12). But one only has to avoiding looking in a mirror for a week, even a day, to feel the relief of the burden of self-image, and enjoy the wonderful world as it is. If I ever escape being a rentoid and get some of my own property, I will certainly do away with any mirrors around.

Descartes is in Hell

Descartes' cogito ergo sum epitomizes the deadly sin prominent in theological history. He stands alongside Lucifer, who made his prideful maneuver toward power through hatred of his position in the hierarchy of creation. Likewise, Descartes violates the true, objective model of classical foundationalism through the absent-minded justification of existence through his own ego. Adding insult to injury is his laughable proof for God, which undoubtedly serves as a demonically stupid distraction from his true anti-Catholic nature.

Tonnes of Christians are misled into accepting Descartes’ starting point, or at least into sharing the quest for philosophical certainty, at the expense of the only foundation for certainty, which is God. They attempt to work within these boundaries to no avail. Creation, as Saint Athanasius recognizes, is corrupt by virtue of its nature, and passes away like a shadow; we must assume the same for our purely human ideas.

Isn’t cogito ergo sum correct, though? Is not our subjective view the most immediate thing? No. Such an idea can be destroyed by observing the simplest among us: infants, and some mentally handicapped. These apprehend exterior things prior to the self; in fact, only by observing things outside oneself does one come to an awareness of a subject. Augustine’s condemnation of himself in infancy seems faulty, because the infant is perfectly humble; never thinking himself greater nor less; doing what is necessary to ensure his own survival and perform God’s work on earth. Of course, this is why the Church declares that infants are free from personal sin. Now, however, we are doubting everything except ourselves, and even ourselves, so that we are slipping down a slope into nothingness. That Descartes spearheaded the cultural shift toward this attitude says nothing good about his soul.

There remains one question: which circle does Descartes occupy? I cannot say for certain, but if he has borne the seal of the Holy priesthood of Christ, only to have thrown it away at the cost of many souls, I would not be surprised if he is dialoguing with the Devil himself.