A man can learn a lot while visiting Sicily. He can learn that old Rome and Byzantium still live in some corners of the Mediterranean; he can learn that the strange, winding streets of a medieval town can feel more like home than the post-communist, Eastern European shithole he calls home; he can learn that he is powerless before authentic, ricotta-filled canolli and also that he sleeps on average four hours less than his wife, going to bed two hours after her and waking up two hours before her.
These hours require something to occupy the mind with which produces no noise. Given both the setting and the strange hours, your dear author elected to read the writings of the Baron Evola.
It’s never quite cold in Sicily, even when it rains. And yet, an unnatural chill can grip the heart when it understands that no matter how dark and unhappy the world is, it can get worse still.
First things first: The Baron accepted that the world is divided into three castes – those who rule (the warrior aristocrats, paladins, kshatriya), those who pray (priests, squishy wizards, Brahmin), and those who work (merchants, workers and peasants, the productive, those who in a fantasy setting would be running the item store, vayshya).
As with all triads, trios, and trinities, there’s a hidden fourth, that being the dalit caste. Dalits, of course, are difficult to figure out, but here’s a useful heuristic: if someone is part of what Marx termed the “lumpenproletariat” (thieves, whores, alcoholics, drug fiends, starving artists etc.), odds are that he is a dalit.
In our diversified west, we can also dump the vast majority of darker nonwhites into this group (bearing in mind that Not All Browns Are Like That, as will become important later). Whereas these people might be vayshya or brahmin among their own, they’ll register as dalit compared to white people. I’d also like the reader to keep in mind the following: most homosexuals and single mothers will also fall into this grouping of dalit, regardless of wealth.
The castes aren’t economic, social and aren’t even clearly related to biological parameters such as intelligence or beauty – but are rather spiritual. This will also become important later on. Generally speaking, if it “lives in the moment,” if it is driven by satisfaction of its physical urges, if it is hedonistic without being epicurean, if the sum total of its ambition can be summed up as “dick and gut satisfaction,” it’s a dalit.
An audience familiar with the writings of the good Baron will already know that primacy in the world has been taken from the warrior aristocrats, first by the priestly class, and then by the mercantile vayshya. After that, we expect the vayshyas to run the whole thing into the ground, which I suspect they can’t realistically do. No, vayshyas’ productive instincts are too strong — they cannot abide destruction, which is one of the reasons they have no stomach for war. Personally, I think that the most realistic picture of a vayshya endgame, a sort of merchant apocalypse, has been painted by the enigmatic Zero H.P. Lovecraft in his not-so-short short story “The Gig Economy.” You’ll never look at Elon Musk’s punchable mug the same way after reading it. But no, that’s not our fate, for the cycle is not complete until the vayshya themselves are overthrown by the dalit.
I suppose that’s for the best. Perpetual rule by vayshya sounds like a fate worse than death to me, as would the constant prayer and endless, talmudic arguments over arguments that’d characterize perpetual brahmin rule, as can be seen among the Jewish people whose brahmin caste ruled over them with an iron fist until the 19th century, whereupon these brutalized Jews with a grudge against all religiosity were unleashed on an unsuspecting West.
But there can be no perpetual rule by dalit for one simple reason — dalits have no conception of the future and eat through societies like termites. A dalit takeover of a civilization results in that civilization’s collapse, almost immediately, as the entire heretofore accumulated social might is disintegrated in an orgy of consumption (and not just in the material sense). Imagine a gang of gypsies taking over a once profitable business, or a female preacher taking over a church. Yep. You can shudder now.
It was late August when I realized this. I was smoking on the balcony, and the sun had just risen. I looked to the east and started thinking about Aleister Crowley, who had for three years lived in the same town where I was staying. I turned my gaze north and tried to spot the Aeolian islands — you can see them on clear days. And then it hit me. The moment when the tiger grows tired is the moment of a spiritual dalit takeover.
Quick reminder: Riding the tiger refers to surviving modernity in the parlance of the Baron Evola. It consists in not allowing modernity to overwhelm one’s soul, while at the same time not fighting it directly, as it would tiger-like, maul the traditionalist. Only when the tiger is tired can action be taken, only then does a traditionalist stand a chance of victory. Until then, we ride the tiger.
Rule by dalit, I suspect, will be nasty, brutish, and short — a sort of South Africa writ large, though considerably more violent and global in scale. Bear in mind that rule by dalit signifies a change in the age of the world, from Dvapara Yuga to Kali Yuga, where the beggar steals the big stick of power from the merchant. The world’s various shitholes are themselves still in the third age, ruled by merchants. Their level of dysfunction and violence will likewise increase with the spiritual shift.
What will this shift look like?
Here we come to the idea that the ruling class is more or less already dalit, either directly, or through dalitization of sons of merchants. To start with, our meritocratic society has been systematically selecting for increasingly low-quality men to run the state. Although meritocracy allows for greater ability in the first generation, those first generation meritocrats find jobs in the establishment for their less bright children — and their children are less bright due to regression to the mean.
When we do away with aristocracy, we do away with bloodlines which have over the ages proven themselves consistently able to produce quality men. Even though an individual baron might be less bright than an individual commoner, that baron’s family consistently produces such men as can effectively govern, whereas genetic drift and regression to the mean prevent the commoners from consistently producing such men.
Add to this the resentment factor, in which highly intelligent people resent geniuses for being close enough to sniff what comes with genius, but unable to do it. Geniuses are systematically sabotaged whenever they are judged by their peers (however, an aristocratic system promotes genius — after all, the baron isn’t threatened and his rule is actually helped by the brilliant commoner, unlike the common provost of a university)”.
From a mathematical standpoint, imagine a bell curve graph of a trait called “ability to govern” moving through time. Due to resentment, its rightward drift is checked, and the graph has a strong leftward drift due to regression to the mean. The left tails, anything left of the bell curve’s tip, really, faces no punishment — nepotism persists, for what man would leave his children jobless, even if they really are entitled brats with the ability of half-peeled potatoes? Gradually, the curve moves so far to the left (towards low ability) that the brightest of the 4th generation are comparable to the average of the 1st. Henry Kissinger looks sane by comparison to contemporary globalists.
This, I believe, is borne out by our reality. The second and third echelon of government, the nefarious Deep State, what Mencius Moldbug called the Cathedral, the great corporations, Hollywood, the media, the universities . . . they’re run by dumbfucks. James Comey’s soyboy antics come to mind. This guy was Director of the FBI. You’d expect someone with gravel, rather than granola in his guts to hold that position.
And still the Kali Yuga is not upon us, still vayshyas run the show, at least spiritually speaking. And here we get into the ooga booga portion of this essay as we delve into what is both symbolic and determinant of the world spirit.
Spiritual power is in many ways, a function of actual power. Actual power is . . . well, the ability to make men who are alive no longer alive. While I don’t usually encourage people to watch stupid television shows, there’s a good scene in Game of Thrones where Queen Cersei (an aristocrat) cuts Lord Baelish (an upjumped merchant) down to size, with a practical demonstration that “power is power.”
Who commands the most actual, power-is-power in our world? The commander of the world’s most powerful military, of course. This brave guy:
As a friend of mine pointed out, this guy is a vayshya from his golden hair to his (probably) golden silk socks, if all the gold and other trappings of immense mercantile power didn’t tip you off. He is, however, the last hurrah of the vayshyas (and of America, which is a vayshya nation through and through), a merchant prince presiding over a government of paupers. Whoever follows will be a dyed in the wool dalit.
When I was workshopping this idea with my friends, they pointed out that Barack Obama could be considered a candidate for my President Dalit and that the Kali Yuga is already on. However, remember when I pointed out that not all browns are like that? Well, Barry O. ain’t like that. He is very middle-class, half white (though the son of a single mom with a dude’s name), and it’s telling that his father wasn’t an African-American, but rather a part of the Kenyan ruling class. Whatever he was (and my guess is vayshya), he wasn’t a dalit.
Michelle Obama behaved like a dalit in many ways, but after taking a closer look at her background, I think I can safely claim that she’s vayshya, and the weird behaviors were the result of entering middle age with a husband who in all probability did not satisfy her . . . needs. Nevertheless, Barry had strong dalit tendencies. Maybe he could be considered a liminal being, a transitional phase between vayshya and dalit.
No, I think that President Dalit is yet to come, and I think that he, or she, will be elected in the year 2024.
For a while, I believed that President Dalit was going to be a Democrat, in all likelihood, Alexandria di Occasio-Cortez or some other brown thot “democratic socialist,” and then . . . this happened:
This episode, and several subsequent comments from Kanye, made me think of a dreadful possibility. The Man Who Makes Us Call Him Ye, clad in MAGA hat, enters the GOP primaries, sweeps every state, and wins the presidency, riding a coalition white conservatives dying to prove their anti-racism and tribal blacks looking to boot invasive Hispangieros from black spaces. It’s like Jared Taylor’s idea of a black-white coalition to combat Hispanic invasion . . . in fact it’s exactly like that, gone horribly right.
Assuming the marriage lasts, America will have a first lady with a sex tape, notable for having attempted to “break the internet” with her ass, the adopted daughter of a stunning and brave tranny.
And let’s not get into the metaphysics of Kanye himself. As Scott Adams would put it, he’s a “wizard,” insofar as he’s a master of self-promotion in the Trumpian mold. Problem is, Trump has actually built things. Kanye’s accomplishments are . . . eh . . . crap music. If Yeezie deigns to put on a suit, he’d be an empty suit.
It’d be a merry Dalit presidency, and all the “I’m not racist” crowd will hail it as a victory for conservatism, indeed for MAGA, to have this confused ghetto rat elected to the Presidency.
I suspect things will go to shit shortly after that.
What can we expect from this development?
Well, I guess the US will be over as a global hegemon — the implications of which I’ve covered elsewhere. This will lead to the liquidation of some things propped up by US military might which ought not exist. The US itself will likely fragment along ethnic lines and descend into low-level civil war, or possibly high-voltage civil war. Who knows? Kanye’s ego might not take kindly to a California in open rebellion, declaring Reconquista. The nukes might fly towards L.A.
Ultimately, it will be chaos, which is why I hesitate to predict too far into the future. Luckily, this will be the time to attempt to defeat the now tired tiger. This is the good Baron’s “completion” to which we are to ride. For those of us who belong to nations dispossessed and disenfranchised by US military and diplomatic bullying, it will probably mean reassertion of our peoples’ independence, dignity, and national will, as well as a purge of domestic traitors and hostile minorities.
For those nations hardest-hit by the chaos, we might see a resurgence of a warrior elite which restores order… either that, or China moves in and imposes their order — which I strongly suspect. China is a vayshya nation, lacking a warrior aristocracy. I’ve never really feared the possibility of Han overlords for this reason. They’re not warriors and never will be. We’re likelier to get occupied by Zulus. Whoever restores order, it will be a warrior aristocracy, however. Hopefully (and probably) a white warrior aristocracy.
Whatever ultimately happens, this world is due for a change. Things have to get drastically worse before they get notably better. And the better of tomorrow will not be the better of yesterday. International travel and commerce will probably collapse, as will the many comforts of today. That being said, if I am right, and I’ve no reason to believe otherwise, I’d like to present the universe this humble request: to place my feet where once the Baron’s noble ancestors trod, that I am allowed to once again see a Sicilian sunrise before I die.
The Counter-Currents 2022 Fundraiser
In Your Heart, You Know Ye’s Right
An Open Letter to Kanye West
Counter-Currents Radio Podcast No. 507 The Best Month Ever on The Writers’ Bloc with Anthony Bavaria
Who Is Not Going to Save the Nation?
Gaming for Nationalism
Hear Ye, Hear Ye: Dave Chappelle on the Jews
Counter-Currents Radio Podcast No. 506 The Writers’ Bloc with Jim Goad on J. D. Vance’s Hillbilly Elegy
A Bad Idea Whose Time Has Come