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Benjamin Franklin

Benjamin Franklin, 1706 - 1790

4,221 words

Editor’s Note:

The North American New Right is a “metapolitical” not a political movement. There are many ways to draw that distinction, but the most important is in terms of values.

Politics, they say, is the art of the possible, and one thing that circumscribes the politically possible is the reigning conception of right and wrong. Political actors mobilize the public by appealing to their existing sense of morality.

But what if people’s values are part of the problem? A White Republic is not politically possible because most people believe that such an idea is immoral: Racism is seen as the ultimate sin (for white people, at least), and taking our own side in ethnic conflicts is seen as depraved (again, just for white people).

Therefore, we cannot achieve the White Republic until we change the fundamental values of a sufficient number of people. And changing people’s values is a metapolitical, not a political task. It is the work of intellectuals, not activists.

The following hilarious but profound essay by D. H. Lawrence is offered as an example of metapolitical “transvaluation” — the transformation of people’s moral outlook. Benjamin Franklin is one of the people who defined a distinctly American set of values, the sorts of values to which politicians appeal to this day.

Lawrence saw these values as profoundly destructive. He saw America as a rootless, raceless machine bent on the destruction of the white race and European civilization. Therefore, he offered a new table of values to help Americans reattach ourselves to the severed roots of our psychological, racial, and cultural vitality. These are some of the values that will pave the way to the White Republic.

The Perfectibility of Man! Ah heaven, what a dreary theme! The perfectibility of the Ford car! The perfectibility of which man? I am many men. Which of them are you going to perfect? I am not a mechanical contrivance.

Education! Which of the various me’s do you propose to educate, and which do you propose to suppress?

Anyhow, I defy you. I defy you, oh society, to educate me or to supress me, according to your dummy standards.

The ideal man! And which is he, if you please? Benjamin Franklin or Abraham Lincoln? The ideal man! Roosevelt or Porfirio Diaz?

There are other men in me, besides this patient ass who sits here in a tweed jacket. What am I doing, playing the patient ass in a tweed jacket? Who am I talking to? Who are you, at the other end of this patience?

Who are you? How many selves have you? And which of these selves do you want to be?

Is Yale College going to educate the self that is in the dark of you, or Harvard College?

The ideal self! Oh, but I have a strange and fugitive self shut out and howling like a wolf or a coyote under the ideal windows. See his red eyes in the dark? This is the self who is coming into his own.

The perfectibility of man, dear God! When every man as long as he remains alive is in himself a multitude of conflicting men. Which of these do you choose to perfect, at the expense of every other?

Old Daddy Franklin will tell you. He’ll rig him up for you, the pattern American. Oh, Franklin was the first downright American. He knew what he was about, the sharp little man. He set up the first dummy American.

At the beginning of his career this cunning little Benjamin drew up for himself a creed that should ’satisfy the professors of every religion, but shock none’.

Now wasn’t that a real American thing to do ?

‘ That there is One God, who made all things.’

(But Benjamin made Him.)

‘That He governs the world by His Providence.’

(Benjamin knowing all about Providence.)

‘ That He ought to be worshipped with adoration, prayer, and thanks- giving.’

(Which cost nothing.)

‘But–’ But me no buts, Benjamin, saith the Lord.

‘But that the most acceptable service of God is doing good to men.’

(God having no choice in the matter.)

‘ That the soul is immortal.’

(You’ll see why, in the next clause.)

‘And that God will certainly reward virtue and punish vice, either here or hereafter.’

Now if Mr Andrew Carnegie, or any other millionaire, had wished to invent a God to suit his ends, he could not have done better. Benjamin did it for him in the eighteenth century. God is the supreme servant of men who want to get on, to produce. Providence. The provider. The heavenly storekeeper. The everlasting Wanamaker.

And this is all the God the grandsons of the Pilgrim Fathers had left. Aloft on a pillar of dollars.

‘ That the soul is immortal.’

The trite way Benjamin says it!

But man has a soul, though you can’t locate it either in his purse or his pocket-book or his heart or his stomach or his head. The wholeness of a man is his soul. Not merely that nice little comfortable bit which Benjamin marks out.

It’s a queer thing is a man’s soul. It is the whole of him. Which means it is the unknown him, as well as the known. It seems to me just funny, professors and Benjamins fixing the functions of the soul. Why, the soul of man is a vast forest, and all Benjamin intended was a neat back garden. And we’ve all got to fit into his kitchen garden scheme of things. Hail Columbia !

The soul of man is a dark forest. The Hercynian Wood that scared the Romans so, and out of which came the white-skinned hordes of the next civilization.

Who knows what will come out of the soul of man? The soul of man is a dark vast forest, with wild life in it. Think of Benjamin fencing it off!

Oh, but Benjamin fenced a little tract that he called the soul of man, and proceeded to get it into cultivation. Providence, forsoothl And they think that bit of barbed wire is going to keep us in pound for ever? More fools they.

This is Benjamin’s barbed wire fence. He made himself a list of virtues, which he trotted inside like a grey nag in a paddock.


Eat not to fulness; drink not to elevation.


Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself; avoid trifling conversation.


Let all your things have their places; let each part of your business have its time.


Resolve to perform what you ought; perform without fail what you resolve.


Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself i.e., waste nothing.


Lose no time, be always employed in something useful; cut off all unnecessary action.


Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and justly, and, if you speak, speak accordingly.


Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the benefits that are your duty.


Avoid extremes, forbear resenting injuries as much as you think they deserve.


Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, clothes, or habitation.


Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents common or unavoidable.


Rarely use venery but for health and offspring, never to dulness, weakness, or the injury of your own or another’s peace or reputation.


Imitate Jesus and Socrates.

A Quaker friend told Franklin that he, Benjamin, was generally considered proud, so Benjamin put in the Humility touch as an afterthought. The amusing part is the sort of humility it displays. ‘Imitate Jesus and Socrates,’ and mind you don’t outshine either of these two. One can just imagine Socrates and Alcibiades roaring in their cups over Philadelphian Benjamin, and Jesus looking at him a little puzzled, and murmuring: ‘Aren’t you wise in your own conceit, Ben?’

‘Henceforth be masterless,’ retorts Ben. ‘ Be ye each one his own master unto himself, and don’t let even the Lord put His spoke in.’ ‘Each man his own master’ is but a puffing up of masterlessness.

Well, the first of Americans practiced this enticing list with assiduity, setting a national example. He had the virtues in columns, and gave himself good and bad marks according as he thought his behaviour deserved. Pity these conduct charts are lost to us. He only remarks that Order was his stumbling block. He could not learn to be neat and tidy.

Isn’t it nice to have nothing worse to confess ?

He was a little model, was Benjamin. Doctor Franklin. Snuff-coloured little man! Immortal soul and all!

The immortal soul part was a sort of cheap insurance policy.

Benjamin had no concern, really, with the immortal soul. He was too busy with social man.

(1) He swept and lighted the streets of young Philadelphia.

(2) He invented electrical appliances.

(3) He was the centre of a moralizing club in Philadelphia, and he wrote the moral humorisms of Poor Richard.

(4) He was a member of all the important councils of Philadelphia, and then of the American colonies.

(5) He won the cause of American Independence at the French Court, and was the economic father of the United States.

Now what more can you want of a man? And yet he is infra dig., even in Philadelphia.

I admire him. I admire his sturdy courage first of all, then his sagacity, then his glimpsing into the thunders of electricity, then his common-sense humour. All the qualities of a great man, and never more than a great citizen. Middle-sized, sturdy, snuff-coloured Doctor Franklin, one of the soundest citizens that ever trod or ‘used venery’.

I do not like him.

And, by the way, I always thought books of Venery were about hunting deer.

There is a certain earnest naivete‚ about him. Like a child. And like a little old man. He has again become as a little child, always as wise as his grandfather, or wiser.

Perhaps, as I say, the most complete citizen that ever ‘used venery’.

Printer, philosopher, scientist, author and patriot, impeccable husband and citizen, why isn’t he an archetype?

Pioneer, Oh Pioneers! Benjamin was one of the greatest pioneers of the United States. Yet we just can’t do with him.

What’s wrong with him then ? Or what’s wrong with us ?

I can remember, when I was a little boy, my father used to buy a scrubby yearly almanac with the sun and moon and stars on the cover. And it used to prophesy bloodshed and famine. But also crammed in corners it had little anecdotes and humorisms, with a moral tag. And I used to have my little priggish laugh at the woman who counted her chickens before they were hatched and so forth, and I was convinced that honesty was the best policy, also a little priggishly. The author of these bits was Poor Richard, and Poor Richard was Benjamin Franklin, writing in Philadelphia well over a hundred years before.

And probably I haven’t got over those Poor Richard tags yet. I rankle still with them. They are thorns in young flesh.

Because, although I still believe that honesty is the best policy, I dislike policy altogether; though it is just as well not to count your chickens before they are hatched, it’s still more hateful to count them with gloating when they are hatched. It has taken me many years and countless smarts to get out of that barbed wire moral enclosure that Poor Richard rigged up. Here am I now in tatters and scratched to ribbons, sitting in the middle of Benjamin’s America looking at the barbed wire, and the fat sheep crawling under the fence to get fat outside, and the watch-dogs yelling at the gate lest by chance anyone should get out by the proper exit. Oh America! Oh Benjamin! And I just utter a long loud curse against Benjamin and the American corral.

Moral America! Most moral Benjamin. Sound, satisfied Ben!

He had to go to the frontiers of his State to settle some disturbance among the Indians. On this occasion he writes:

We found that they had made a great bonfire in the middle of the square; they were all drunk, men and women quarrelling and fighting. Their dark-coloured bodies, half-naked, seen only by the gloomy light of the bonfire, running after and beating one another with fire-brands, accompanied by their horrid yellings, formed a scene the most resembling our ideas of hell that could be well imagined. There was no appeasing the tumult, and we retired to our lodging. At midnight a number of them came thundering at our door, demanding more rum, of which we took no notice.

The next day, sensible they had misbehaved in giving us that disturbance, they sent three of their counsellors to make their apology. The orator acknowledged the fault, but laid it upon the rum, and then endeavoured to excuse the rum by saying: ‘The Great Spirit, who made all things, made everything for some use; and whatever he designed anything for, that use it should always be put to. Now, when he had made the rum, he said: ” Let this be for the Indians to get drunk with.” And it must be so.’

And, indeed, if it be the design of Providence to extirpate these savages in order to make room for the cultivators of the earth, it seems not improbable that rum may be the appointed means. It has already annihilated all the tribes who formerly inhabited all the seacoast . . .

This, from the good doctor with such suave complacency, is a little disenchanting. Almost too good to be true.

But there you are! The barbed wire fence. ‘Extirpate these savages in order to make room for the cultivators of the earth.’ Oh, Benjamin Franklin! He even ‘used venery’ as a cultivator of seed.

Cultivate the earth, ye gods! The Indians did that, as much as they needed. And they left off there. Who built Chicago? Who cultivated the earth until it spawned Pittsburgh, Pa?

The moral issue! Just look at it! Cultivation included. If it’s a mere choice of Kultur or cultivation, I give it up.

Which brings us right back to our question, what’s wrong with Benjamin, that we can’t stand him? Or else, what’s wrong with us, that we kind fault with such a paragon?

Man is a moral animal. All right. I am a moral animal. And I’m going to remain such. I’m not going to be turned into a virtuous little automaton as Benjamin would have me. ‘This is good, that is bad. Turn the little handle and let the good tap flow,’ saith Benjamin, and all America with him. ‘But first of all extirpate those savages who are always turning on the bad tap.’

I am a moral animal. But I am not a moral machine. I don’t work with a little set of handles or levers. The Temperance – silence – order – resolution – frugality – industry – sincerity – justice – moderation – cleanliness – tranquillity – chastity – humility keyboard is not going to get me going. I’m really not just an automatic piano with a moral Benjamin getting tunes out of me.

Here’s my creed, against Benjamin’s. This is what I believe:

‘That I am I.’

‘ That my soul is a dark forest.’

‘That my known self will never be more than a little clearing in the forest.’

‘That gods, strange gods, come forth from the forest into the clearing of my known self, and then go back.’

‘ That I must have the courage to let them come and go.’

‘ That I will never let mankind put anything over me, but that I will try always to recognize and submit to the gods in me and the gods in other men and women.’

There is my creed. He who runs may read. He who prefers to crawl, or to go by gasoline, can call it rot.

Then for a ‘list’. It is rather fun to play at Benjamin.


Eat and carouse with Bacchus, or munch dry bread with Jesus, but don’t sit down without one of the gods.


Be still when you have nothing to say; when genuine passion moves you, say what you’ve got to say, and say it hot.


Know that you are responsible to the gods inside you and to the men in whom the gods are manifest. Recognize your superiors and your inferiors, according to the gods. This is the root of all order.


Resolve to abide by your own deepest promptings, and to sacrifice the smaller thing to the greater. Kill when you must, and be killed the same: the must coming from the gods inside you, or from the men in whom you recognize the Holy Ghost.


Demand nothing; accept what you see fit. Don’t waste your pride or squander your emotion.


Lose no time with ideals; serve the Holy Ghost; never serve mankind.


To be sincere is to remember that I am I, and that the other man is not me.


The only justice is to follow the sincere intuition of the soul, angry or gentle. Anger is just, and pity is just, but judgement is never just.


Beware of absolutes. There are many gods.


Don’t be too clean. It impoverishes the blood.


The soul has many motions, many gods come and go. Try and find your deepest issue, in every confusion, and abide by that. Obey the man in whom you recognize the Holy Ghost; command when your honour comes to command.


Never ‘use’ venery at all. Follow your passional impulse, if it be answered in the other being; but never have any motive in mind, neither offspring nor health nor even pleasure, nor even service. Only know that ‘venery’ is of the great gods. An offering-up of yourself to the very great gods, the dark ones, and nothing else.


See all men and women according to the Holy Ghost that is within them. Never yield before the barren.

There’s my list. I have been trying dimly to realize it for a long time, and only America and old Benjamin have at last goaded me into trying to formulate it.

And now I, at least, know why I can’t stand Benjamin. He tries to take away my wholeness and my dark forest, my freedom. For how can any man be free, without an illimitable background? And Benjamin tries to shove me into a barbed wire paddock and make me grow potatoes or Chicagoes.

And how can I be free, without gods that come and go? But Benjamin won’t let anything exist except my useful fellow men, and I’m sick of them; as for his Godhead, his Providence, He is Head of nothing except a vast heavenly store that keeps every imaginable line of goods, from victrolas to cat-o’-nine tails.

And how can any man be free without a soul of his own, that he believes in and won’t sell at any price? But Benjamin doesn’t let me have a soul of my own. He says I am nothing but a servant of mankind — galley-slave I call it — and if I don’t get my wages here below — that is, if Mr Pierpont Morgan or Mr Nosey Hebrew or the grand United States Government, the great US, US or SOMEOFUS, manages to scoop in my bit, along with their lump — why, never mind, I shall get my wages HEREAFTER.

Oh Benjamin! Oh Binjum! You do NOT suck me in any longer.

And why, oh why should the snuff-coloured little trap have wanted to take us all in? Why did he do it?

Out of sheer human cussedness, in the first place. We do all like to get things inside a barbed wire corral. Especially our fellow men. We love to round them up inside the barbed wire enclosure of FREEDOM, and make ‘em work. ‘ Work, you free jewel, WORK!’ shouts the liberator, cracking his whip. Benjamin, I will not work. I do not choose to be a free democrat. I am absolutely a servant of my own Holy Ghost.

Sheer cussedness! But there was as well the salt of a subtler purpose. Benjamin was just in his eyeholes — to use an English vulgarism, meaning he was just delighted — when he was at Paris judiciously milking money out of the French monarchy for the overthrow of all monarchy. If you want to ride your horse to somewhere you must put a bit in his mouth. And Benjamin wanted to ride his horse so that it would upset the whole apple-cart of the old masters. He wanted the whole European apple-cart upset. So he had to put a strong bit in the mouth of his ass.

‘Henceforth be masterless.’

That is, he had to break-in the human ass completely, so that much more might be broken, in the long run. For the moment it was the British Government that had to have a hole knocked in it. The first real hole it ever had: the breach of the American rebellion.

Benjamin, in his sagacity, knew that the breaking of the old world was a long process. In the depths of his own underconsciousness he hated England, he hated Europe, he hated the whole corpus of the European being. He wanted to be American. But you can’t change your nature and mode of consciousness like changing your shoes. It is a gradual shedding. Years must go by, and centuries must elapse before you have finished. Like a son escaping from the domination of his parents. The escape is not just one rupture. It is a long and half-secret process.

So with the American. He was a European when he first went over the Atlantic. He is in the main a recreant European still. From Benjamin Franklin to Woodrow Wilson may be a long stride, but it is a stride along the same road. There is no new road. The same old road, become dreary and futile. Theoretic and materialistic.

Why then did Benjamin set up this dummy of a perfect citizen as a pattern to America ? Of course, he did it in perfect good faith, as far as he knew. He thought it simply was the true ideal. But what we think we do is not very important. We never really know what we are doing. Either we are materialistic instruments, like Benjamin, or we move in the gesture of creation, from our deepest self, usually unconscious. We are only the actors, we are never wholly the authors of our own deeds or works. IT is the author, the unknown inside us or outside us. The best we can do is to try to hold ourselves in unison with the deeps which are inside us. And the worst we can do is to try to have things our own way, when we run counter to IT, and in the long run get our knuckles rapped for our presumption.

So Benjamin contriving money out of the Court of France. He was contriving the first steps of the overthrow of all Europe, France included. You can never have a new thing without breaking an old. Europe happens to be the old thing. America, unless the people in America assert themselves too much in opposition to the inner gods, should be the new thing. The new thing is the death of the old. But you can’t cut the throat of an epoch. You’ve got to steal the life from it through several centuries.

And Benjamin worked for this both directly and indirectly. Directly, at the Court of France, making a small but very dangerous hole in the side of England, through which hole Europe has by now almost bled to death. And indirectly in Philadelphia, setting up this unlovely, snuff-coloured little ideal, or automaton, of a pattern American. The pattern American, this dry, moral, utilitarian little democrat, has done more to ruin the old Europe than any Russian nihilist. He has done it by slow attrition, like a son who has stayed at home and obeyed his parents, all the while silently hating their authority, and silently, in his soul, destroying not only their authority but their whole existence. For the American spiritually stayed at home in Europe. The spiritual home of America was, and still is, Europe. This is the galling bondage, in spite of several billions of heaped-up gold. Your heaps of gold are only so many muck-heaps, America, and will remain so till you become a reality to yourselves.

All this Americanizing and mechanizing has been for the purpose of overthrowing the past. And now look at America, tangled in her own barbed wire, and mastered by her own machines. Absolutely got down by her own barbed wire of shalt-nots, and shut up fast in her own ‘productive’ machines like millions of squirrels running in millions of cages. It is just a farce.

Now is your chance, Europe. Now let Hell loose and get your own back, and paddle your own canoe on a new sea, while clever America lies on her muck-heaps of gold, strangled in her own barbed wire of shalt-not ideals and shalt-not moralisms. While she goes out to work like millions of squirrels in millions of cages. Production!

Let Hell loose, and get your own back, Europe!

Chapter 2 of  Studies in Classic American Literature


  1. FORP
    Posted October 12, 2010 at 2:36 am | Permalink

    It is probably not so bad if commoners are just happy with work, church and family, but for the creative intellectual types, obviously the current system can be damaging and not very fulfilling.

    European entrepreneurs often come to the USA, while I suspect a lot of American artists like to go to Europe. The North American New Right should not only appeal to the artist and intellectual, but also to the entrepreneur.

    Entrepreneurs and experimenters are often heroes in America, so they are a source of individuals that could transform people’s perceptions of what is the right way forward.

    I am anti-corporation but not anti-commerce. I really don’t know what the North American New Right’s position is on economics, other than anti-laissez faire capitalism – but pro what ?

    • Praxis
      Posted October 12, 2010 at 7:11 pm | Permalink

      Greg’s introductory note is refreshingly candid in the open disavowal of the least bit of physical activity or organization. It defines the pro-white movement entirely as a purely virtual intellectual exercise for an indefinite period of time. How can something this amorphous ever know when it has achieved critical mass? Answer: It can’t.

      • Greg Johnson
        Posted October 13, 2010 at 12:54 am | Permalink

        I will give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you are not trying to sound like a jerk. Your error is the assumption that it is “all or nothing”: either politics or metapolitics. But nothing of the kind is implied. I am all for activism by those who have a talent for activism. But activists must appeal to the existing value system, which has been stacked against us. You are going against the prevailing current, spitting into the wind. And activism alone cannot change the dominant value system. Therefore, activism alone will never give us a white homeland until intellectuals–philosophers, religious leaders, artists, etc.–change the prevailing value system.

        • Praxis
          Posted October 13, 2010 at 12:24 pm | Permalink

          Who is the jerk, Greg? Is it you for rationalizing the failure of nattering pensioners on the Internet to find a solution or is it me for pointing out the fallacy of what you’re proposing? I repeat the question: How can something this amorphous ever know when it has achieved critical mass?

          Kumbayah, bro.

          • Greg Johnson
            Posted October 13, 2010 at 1:18 pm | Permalink


            You pointed out no fallacy, but you did commit one. I pointed your fallacy out to you, removed your error, allowing you to see clearly, all of it free of charge. Your reappearance here has proved only one thing: You were trying to sound like a jerk.

            Let’s get real, “bro”: I see nothing that differentiates you from those “nattering pensioners” whom you deride, except the fact that some of them are attacking the enemy, whereas all I know is that you are attacking me. Hell, you could very well be just another sock puppet of my deranged internet stalker.

            I am happy to accept criticism. There are two kinds. Purely factual and logical criticism can come from any source, even anonymous internet trolls. But fundamental criticisms of philosophy, strategy, and the like have to come from my peers: people I know from the real world, people with records of real world achievements, people I can respect.

            I have a proven record as a writer, editor, publisher, speaker, networker, and conference organizer, and I will stand by that record in spite of the lies and distortions spread by kooks.

            Show me that you are something more than just an internet-bred troll, and I will take you seriously. Otherwise, I have better things to do than bandy words with shadows.

  2. Posted October 12, 2010 at 3:06 am | Permalink

    Absolutely brilliant.

    What Lawrence identifies as Franklin’s concept of morality and God is typical Masonic Deism. America was founded as a dichotomy of Puritans and Masons: these are your founders, and both factions are SOBs from a Western cultural viewpoint.

  3. cladrastis
    Posted October 12, 2010 at 6:46 am | Permalink

    This is a beautiful essay. Thank you for publishing it.
    Greg, PLEASE organize a NA New Right conference. That is surely the next step; an out-of-the-way venue like the Martha Washington Inn in Abingdon, VA would be perfect.

    • Greg Johnson
      Posted October 12, 2010 at 9:37 am | Permalink

      Yes, conference plans are underway, but the big impediment to realizing them is that they entail some financial risks that I cannot afford to undertake now, and if present trends continue, I will be even less able to undertake them in the foreseeable future. I couldn’t even afford to do a book signing last month. So it has become clear to me that this enterprise is going to grow slowly, more slowly than I would like given the quickening pace at which both dangers and opportunities are presenting themselves. But if things come together, I will let you know.

  4. Posted October 12, 2010 at 8:56 am | Permalink

    The origins of value systems and worldviews can be traced back directly to the regnant oligarchies in their particular societies and their prevailing interests. Franklin’s worldview was assuredly a mercantile one and this article is entirely accurate in tracing its origins back to the exceedingly transactional nature of the power wielded by America’s founding oligarchy.

    And, yet, the martial value systems, the honor codes, can also be traced back to the tangible considerations of the reigning warlords. Chivalry, Pashtunwali, and the rest of the martial value systems are pragmatic protocols that serve the interests of the ruling junta. The managerial value systems, “religions”, similarly serve to maintain the bureaucracy (priesthood) and retain its sinecures. The faults that the partisans of the martial and managerial 0ligarchies find in Franklin and America’s mercantile oligarchy are faults they would find with their own constructs if they were more honest with themselves.

    What Franklin’s distillation and refinement of the Masonic worldview does have is contemporary vitality and a clear commitment to stewardship of the folk. America’s founding fathers, for all their faults, can be shown in their discourses to have had a sincere investment in the welfare and sustainability of their nation. Unfortunately, this oligarchy has been subverted and perverted by those cosmic nation wreckers with whom we’re all familiar, but it had and retains vitality, even now in its corrupted form.

    This is more than can be said of Continental Europe’s managerial and martial oligarchies, whose priests and princes failed to adapt to and master the unshakable reality that Western Civilization has entered an age in which the power wrought through mercantile exchange always trumps the power wrought through either managerial influence or martial force (both of which can now be purchased on the market).

    The martial and managerial values of Old Europe can only be saved by fortifying them for survival in the mercantile age. We can only hope to restore the noble and pious in our European traditions through wrestling the mercantile power from global Jewry and fusing it with our martial and managerial values into a trilateral oligarchy and attendant value system.

    This oligarchy can’t afford to set itself in opposition to the mercantile, as Radical Traditionalists reflexively wish to do. It must create a new vanguard, a new Western elite which is a fusion of all three: an entrepreneurial warrior priesthood. This elite must be as prepared to go to the front lines of the struggle for power in the West, and these front lines are increasingly economic.

    Franklin’s folksy witticisms are invaluable arrows in the political soldier’s quiver, and may well arm us in defense of those values that we hope to preserve through the end of this Age.

  5. GP
    Posted October 12, 2010 at 12:41 pm | Permalink

    Fantastic essay! Thanks for publishing this. I had no idea Lawrence had such radical political and cultural critiques. I tend to think of only his novels regarding romance, love and passion like Lady Chatterley’s Lover and Women in Love. Who knew he had such trenchant critiques of America and its system?

  6. PW
    Posted October 14, 2010 at 12:28 am | Permalink

    “Lawrence saw these values as profoundly destructive. He saw America as a rootless, raceless machine bent on the destruction of the white race and European civilization. ”

    Spengler said the same thing in his book HOUR OF DECISION:

    “What is “hundred per cent Americanism”? A mass existence standardized to a low average level, a primitive pose, or a promise for the future?

    All we know is that so far there is neither a real nation nor a real State. Can both of these develop out of the knocks of fate, or is this possibility excluded by the very fact of the Colonial type, whose spiritual past belongs elsewhere and is now dead? The American does not talk of State or Mother Country like the Englishman, but of “this country.”

    Actually what it amounts to is a boundless field and a population of trappers, drifting from town to town in the dollar-hunt, unscrupulous and dissolute; for the law is only for those who are not cunning or powerful enough to ignore it.

    The resemblance to Bolshevik Russia is far greater than one imagines. There is the same breadth of landscape, which firstly, by excluding any possibility of successful attack by an invader, consequently excludes the experience of real national danger, and, secondly, by making the State not indispensable, prevents the development of any true political outlook. Life is organized exclusively from the economic side and consequently lacks depth, all the more because it contains nothing of that element of historic tragedy, of great destiny, that has widened and chastened the soul of Western peoples through the centuries.” (pg. 37: PDF)

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    White Identity Politics

    Here’s the Thing

    Trevor Lynch: Part Four of the Trilogy

    Graduate School with Heidegger

    It’s Okay to Be White


    The Enemy of Europe

    The World in Flames

    The White Nationalist Manifesto

    From Plato to Postmodernism

    The Gizmo

    Return of the Son of Trevor Lynch's CENSORED Guide to the Movies

    Toward a New Nationalism

    The Smut Book

    The Alternative Right

    My Nationalist Pony

    Dark Right: Batman Viewed From the Right

    The Philatelist

    Novel Folklore

    Confessions of an Anti-Feminist

    East and West

    Though We Be Dead, Yet Our Day Will Come

    White Like You

    The Homo and the Negro, Second Edition

    Numinous Machines

    Venus and Her Thugs


    North American New Right, vol. 2

    You Asked For It

    More Artists of the Right

    Extremists: Studies in Metapolitics


    The Importance of James Bond

    In Defense of Prejudice

    Confessions of a Reluctant Hater (2nd ed.)

    The Hypocrisies of Heaven

    Waking Up from the American Dream

    Green Nazis in Space!

    Truth, Justice, and a Nice White Country

    Heidegger in Chicago

    The End of an Era

    Sexual Utopia in Power

    What is a Rune? & Other Essays

    Son of Trevor Lynch's White Nationalist Guide to the Movies

    The Lightning & the Sun

    The Eldritch Evola

    Western Civilization Bites Back

    New Right vs. Old Right

    Lost Violent Souls

    Journey Late at Night: Poems and Translations

    The Non-Hindu Indians & Indian Unity

    Baader Meinhof ceramic pistol, Charles Kraaft 2013

    Jonathan Bowden as Dirty Harry

    The Lost Philosopher, Second Expanded Edition

    Trevor Lynch's A White Nationalist Guide to the Movies

    And Time Rolls On

    The Homo & the Negro

    Artists of the Right

    North American New Right, Vol. 1

    Some Thoughts on Hitler

    Tikkun Olam and Other Poems

    Under the Nihil

    Summoning the Gods

    Hold Back This Day

    The Columbine Pilgrim

    Confessions of a Reluctant Hater

    Taking Our Own Side

    Toward the White Republic

    Distributed Titles


    The Node

    The New Austerities

    Morning Crafts

    The Passing of a Profit & Other Forgotten Stories

    Gold in the Furnace