3,977 words
Translations: French, Portuguese, Swedish
Author’s Note:
This essay was presented at the recent Rune-Gild Moot in Bastrop, Texas. It is dedicated, with respect and affection, to Edred Thorsson and his wife Crystal Dawn. (more…)
3,977 words
Translations: French, Portuguese, Swedish
Author’s Note:
This essay was presented at the recent Rune-Gild Moot in Bastrop, Texas. It is dedicated, with respect and affection, to Edred Thorsson and his wife Crystal Dawn. (more…)
History is always written by the winning side. This was never more true than in the case of Nazi Germany. Everything we know about it, or everything we think we know, is filtered through layers of illusion and propaganda. But a few years ago I had a rare opportunity to get an unfiltered view of it.
On Saturday, January 14, 1995, I saw an announcement of a series of films from Nazi Germany, being shown at UCLA. (more…)
On Friday, July 8, 2011, the 135th and last-ever space shuttle mission, carried out by the shuttle Atlantis, is being launched. What many Americans don’t seem to realize yet is that this effectively marks the end of a half-century of America’s adventure into space which began with John F. Kennedy’s call for America to land men on the Moon in his famous 1961 speech. (more…)
French translation here
Farnham O’Reilly
Hyperborean Home
Xlibris, 2011
Hyperborean Home pioneers a new and absolutely necessary genre: racial nationalist fantasy literature, specifically Traditionalist, deep ecological, esoteric “Nature’s Witnessist,” “Natural Selectionist” fantasy literature. (more…)
5,326 words
With the likes of Oswald Spengler, whose Decline he translated for an Italian readership, and Jose Ortega y Gasset, Julius Evola (1898–1974) stands as one of the notably incisive mid-Twentieth Century critics of modernity. Like Spengler and Ortega, Evola understood himself to owe a formative debt to Friedrich Nietzsche, but more forcefully than Spengler or Ortega, Evola saw the limitations – the contradictions and inconsistencies–in Nietzsche’s thinking.
German translation here
Editor’s Note:
This essay is taken from in Dr. O’Meara’s new book Toward the White Republic, available here. Only a few copies of the limited signed and numbered hardcover edition are available.
“Those who want to live, let them fight, and
those who do not want to fight in this world of eternal struggle do not deserve to live.”
—Adolf Hitler
I have read Michael O’Meara’s recently published Toward the White Republic. It’s an honor for me to own copy #56 with O’Meara’s personal inscription to me on the very first page.
O’Meara is absolutely right: A numinous vision always comes before galvanizing the collective unconsciousness, and the mere idea of a white ethnostate does reminds us the Latin saying “Thus I will, thus I command.” (more…)
Mark Antliff
Avant-Garde Fascism:
The Mobilization of Myth, Art, and Culture in France, 1909–1939
Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2007
Editor’s Note:
In this talk, Michael O’Meara defines one of the crucial elements of the metapolitical project of Counter-Currents Publishing and North American New Right. This is the second essay in Dr. O’Meara’s new book Toward the White Republic, available here.
“J’attends les Cosaques et le Saint-Esprit.”
—Léon Bloy
In 2009, this essay won The Occidental Quarterly essay contest on secession. It is now the title essay of O’Meara’s book Toward the White Republic, available for pre-order here. (The books will arrive here from the printers on September 9th.)
“Breathes there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land!”
—Walter Scott
3,131 words
“Those who talk too much about race no longer have it in them.” —Oswald Spengler
Recently I spent a good deal of time re-reading the great Oswald Spengler: for general enlightenment, but also with an eye to criticizing his teachings about race, which seemed at first reading confused, bizarre, and dangerous. (more…)
3,173 words
‘But where can we draw water,’
Said Pearse to Connolly,
‘When all the wells are parched away?
O plain as plain can be
There’s nothing but our own red blood
Can make a right Rose Tree.’
—W. B. Yeats