1. The End of a Cycle: We stand at the culmination of a degenerative process, where the West has dismantled all legitimate and natural human orders, celebrating materialism and mechanization as "progress." This illusion has led to moral and spiritual decay, leaving us amidst the ruins of a once-great civilization.
2. The Legionary Spirit: The foundation of resistance lies in the legionary spirit—an unwavering commitment to fight even when the battle seems lost. This spirit embodies loyalty, honor, and a refusal to compromise, serving as the bedrock for a new Order.
3. Inner Renewal: The core of the struggle is internal. Before any external reconstruction, individuals must regain inner strength, self-discipline, and moral clarity. A new type of man must emerge, guided by resolute principles and a clear vision of life.
4. Rejection of Modern Myths: The illusions of democracy, liberalism, socialism, and communism are stages of the same degenerative process. These systems, rooted in materialism and egalitarianism, must be rejected entirely. True order can only be restored through a return to hierarchical, spiritual values.
5. Anti-Bourgeois and Anti-Proletarian: The new Order transcends the false dichotomies of class struggle. It rejects both the bourgeois obsession with security and the proletarian collectivism of Marxism, aspiring instead to a lucid, virile, and structured world governed by higher principles.
6. The Role of the Elite: The resurgence of tradition depends on the formation of a new elite—a group of individuals united by a shared vision and unwavering loyalty to the idea. This elite must embody the spirit of resistance and serve as a model for others.
7. The Failure of Nationalism: The naturalistic conception of the nation and fatherland is outdated. True unity is rooted in the idea, not in shared land or language. The state must be the embodiment of higher principles, transcending narrow nationalism.
8. Cultural Detoxification: Modern culture, poisoned by Darwinism, psychoanalysis, and existentialism, must be purged. These ideologies degrade the human spirit and undermine the possibility of renewal. A new worldview, rooted in transcendence and hierarchy, must replace them.
9. Spiritual Foundation: A heroic conception of life requires a sense of transcendence. While specific religious dogmas are not essential, the certainty of a higher reality is crucial for fostering unbreakable resolve and absolute commitment.
10. The Silent Revolution: The true struggle is not for immediate political gains but for the silent, internal revolution that prepares the ground for a new Order. This revolution will manifest externally when the time is ripe, replacing the forces of subversion with a restored hierarchy and authority.

There is no value in indulging in wishful thinking or the illusions of optimism: we are now at the end of a cycle. For centuries, initially imperceptibly and then with the force of an avalanche, multiple processes have dismantled every legitimate and natural human order in the West, corrupting all higher conceptions of life, action, knowledge, and struggle. This descent, with its accelerating momentum and dizzying pace, has been labeled "progress." We have celebrated this so-called progress, deluding ourselves into believing that this civilization—a civilization of materialism and machines—was the pinnacle of human achievement, the ultimate destiny of history. Yet, the consequences of this process have awakened at least some to its true nature.

It is well known where and under what symbols the forces of potential resistance attempted to organize. On one side, a nation, previously mired in the mediocrity of liberalism, democracy, and constitutional monarchy, dared to adopt the symbol of Rome as the foundation for a new political vision and an ideal of virility and dignity. Similarly, in another nation, medieval traditions of imperium were revived to reaffirm the principles of authority and the primacy of values rooted in blood, race, and the deepest essence of a people. Meanwhile, in other parts of Europe, movements began to align with this direction, and in Asia, a nation of warriors—the samurai—joined the struggle, maintaining its fidelity to a martial tradition centered on the solar empire of divine right, even while adopting the external trappings of modern civilization.

It is not claimed that these movements clearly distinguished the essential from the superficial, that their ideas were embraced by individuals of true understanding, or that they fully overcame the corrupting influences of the very forces they sought to combat. The process of ideological purification would have required time, following the resolution of immediate political challenges. Nevertheless, it was evident that a gathering of forces was underway, posing a direct challenge to the "modern" civilization of democracies—heirs to the French Revolution—and to the even more degraded collectivist civilization of the Fourth Estate, the faceless mass of Communism. Tensions escalated, culminating in armed conflict. The victors were those who wielded overwhelming power, resorting to alliances and ideological manipulations to crush the emerging world that sought to assert its rightful place. Whether our leaders were equal to the task, whether mistakes were made in timing, preparation, or risk assessment, is beside the point. These details do not diminish the deeper significance of the struggle. Nor does it matter that history now turns against the victors, as the democratic powers, having allied with red subversion to pursue total war and unconditional surrender, now face a greater threat from their former allies.

What matters is this: we now stand amidst a world in ruins.

The question to ask is: do men of strength and resolve still exist among these ruins? And what must they do—what can they still do?

This issue transcends past alliances, as both victors and vanquished now stand on equal footing, with the Second World War reducing Europe to a pawn of external powers and interests. The devastation we witness is primarily moral. We live in an era of moral amnesia and profound disorientation, masked by the rhetoric of consumerism and democracy. Post-war humanity is marked by the loss of character, dignity, ideological decay, the dominance of base interests, and a day-to-day existence. Recognizing this means understanding that the core problem is internal: regaining inner strength, self-discipline, and moral order. Those who believe in purely political solutions or systems, without embodying a new human quality or a clear opposing vision, have failed to learn from recent history. A crucial principle must be clear: even the most theoretically perfect political or social system will fail if its people are morally corrupt. Conversely, a people capable of producing individuals of integrity and instinctive virtue can achieve and sustain a high level of civilization, even with an imperfect political system. We must reject false "political realism" focused solely on programs, partisan issues, and economic solutions. These are secondary. The possibility of salvation lies in the presence of individuals who serve as models, resisting mass demagogy and materialism, and reviving higher sensibilities and values. The true task is to rebuild from the ruins, cultivating a new type of man guided by a resolute spirit, a clear vision of life, and unwavering adherence to fundamental principles.

As spirit, there exists something that can serve as a foundation for the forces of resistance and revival: the legionary spirit. It is the attitude of one who chooses the most arduous path, who fights even when the battle is fundamentally lost, and who embodies the ancient saying: "Loyalty is stronger than fire." Through this spirit, the traditional idea is affirmed. It is the sense of honor and shame—not diluted by weak morals—that creates a profound, existential distinction between beings, akin to the difference between one race and another.

On the other hand, there is the realization of those for whom what was once an end now appears only as a means. They recognize the illusory nature of many myths, yet remain steadfast in their pursuit of what they hold sacred, navigating the boundary between life and death, beyond the realm of the contingent.

These spiritual forms can serve as the foundation for a new unity. The essential task is to grasp, apply, and extend them from wartime to peacetime—especially this peace, which is merely a fleeting respite and a poorly managed disorder—until new distinctions and groupings emerge. This must occur in terms far more fundamental than a mere "party," which is only a temporary tool for political struggles, or even a "movement," if by "movement" we mean a mass phenomenon driven more by quantity than quality, by emotion rather than a rigorous adherence to an idea. What we seek is a silent revolution, unfolding in the depths, where the premises of a new Order are first established internally within individuals. This Order will eventually manifest externally, replacing the forms and forces of a subverted world at the opportune moment. The "style" that must prevail is one of unwavering loyalty to oneself and to an idea, marked by intense focus, rejection of compromise, and total commitment—not only in political struggle but in every aspect of existence: factories, laboratories, universities, the streets, and even personal relationships. We must reach a point where the type of individual we envision, the core of our group, is unmistakable and distinct. Only then can we say, "He is one who embodies the spirit of the movement."

This was the mission of those who envisioned a new Order for Europe, though it was often thwarted by various factors. Today, this mission must be revived. The conditions are now more favorable, as the situation has become clearer. We need only look around, from public squares to Parliament, to see that our calling is being tested and that we are confronted with a clear measure of what we must reject. In a world of mediocrity, where principles like "You have no choice," "Morals can wait until we’ve taken care of our stomachs and our skin," or "These are not times for character" prevail, we must respond firmly: "For us, there is no other way. This is our life, our essence." Any meaningful achievements will not come from the tactics of agitators or political operatives but from the natural prestige and recognition of individuals, both from the past and, more importantly, from the new generation, who embody their ideals with unwavering resolve.

A new essence must gradually emerge, transcending the confines, structures, and social roles of the past. A new archetype must stand before us, serving as a measure of our strength and vocation. It is crucial—indeed, fundamental—to understand that this archetype is unrelated to economic classes or the conflicts they generate. It can manifest in the form of the rich or the poor, the worker or the aristocrat, the businessman or the explorer, the technician, theologian, farmer, or even the politician in the strictest sense. Yet, this new essence will undergo an internal differentiation, reaching its fullness when there is no ambiguity about the vocations and functions to follow or to lead; when a restored symbol of unwavering authority reigns at the heart of new hierarchical orders.

This vision is inherently anti-bourgeois and anti-proletarian, free from democratic distortions and 'social' frivolities, as it aspires to a world that is lucid, virile, and structured, governed by men and their guides. It rejects the bourgeois obsession with 'security' and the trivial, standardized, conformist, and domesticated existence. It scorns the lifeless constraints of collectivist and mechanistic systems, as well as ideologies that prioritize vague 'social' values over the heroic and spiritual principles that define the true man, the absolute individual. A pivotal achievement will be the revival of an ethos of active impersonality, where the work itself matters, not the individual. Through this, we learn to see ourselves as secondary, for what truly matters is the function, the responsibility, the task undertaken, and the goal pursued. Where this spirit prevails, many challenges—including those of an economic and social nature—will be resolved, as they remain unsolvable without a corresponding shift in spiritual orientation and the eradication of ideological corruptions that obstruct any return to normality. Indeed, they obscure even the recognition of what normality truly entails.

It is crucial, both for doctrinal clarity and practical action, that the members of the new order clearly recognize the chain of causes and effects, as well as the essential continuity of the current that has shaped the various political forms now clashing in the chaos of modern ideologies. Liberalism, democracy, socialism, radicalism, and ultimately Communism and Bolshevism, are not isolated phenomena but sequential stages of the same degenerative process. This decline began when Western man broke free from tradition, rejected higher symbols of authority and sovereignty, and embraced a false sense of individual liberty, reducing himself to an atomized entity rather than a conscious part of an organic, hierarchical whole. This atomization inevitably led to the tyranny of the masses, where materialism and economic idolatry reign supreme.

This process is irreversible and interconnected. Without the French Revolution and liberalism, constitutionalism and democracy would not have emerged; without democracy, socialism and demagogic nationalism would not have arisen; and without socialism, radicalism and Communism would not have followed. These forms, though often seen in opposition, are fundamentally linked, each paving the way for the next in the same downward spiral. The illusion that democracy and liberalism are antithetical to Communism is as absurd as claiming that dusk is the opposite of night or that a diluted poison is fundamentally different from its concentrated form. The so-called "liberated" governments, particularly in Italy, remain blind to these truths, clinging to outdated political concepts and engaging in a futile dance of parliamentary decadence.

Our stance must be one of radical intransigence, a firm rejection of all forms of political decay, whether from the Left or the so-called Right. There can be no compromise with subversion; any concession today ensures total defeat tomorrow. We must uphold the purity of our ideals and be prepared to act decisively when the time comes.

This also requires rejecting the ideological distortions that have infected even some of our youth, who mistakenly believe that the destruction wrought by modernity serves some greater "progress." They chase after a vague future rather than defending the timeless truths that have always underpinned legitimate social and political order. We must dismiss the notion of "History" as a progressive force; it is men, not abstract historical forces, who shape the world. The label of "reactionary" is meaningless—our position is rooted in positive, original values that do not rely on the false promises of a utopian future.

The supposed antithesis between the "red East" and the "democratic West" is irrelevant to our radical perspective. A potential conflict between these blocs is equally inconsequential. While the immediate threat of Communist victory might seem more dire, both America and Russia represent the same destructive force, albeit in different forms. Americanism, with its cult of materialism, consumerism, and economic growth, is as dangerous as Communism, if not more so, because it operates subtly, eroding tradition and quality through cultural and societal shifts rather than overt coercion. Europe, by embracing Americanism under the guise of democracy, is already on the path to total abdication, a process that may culminate without the need for military conflict. Americanism, whether intentionally or not, paves the way for collectivism, and there is no halting this decline once it has begun.

Our dedication to a radical reconstruction is crucial here, as it rejects not only all forms of Marxist and socialist ideologies but also the pervasive obsession with economics, which we view as a form of collective delusion or possession. The belief that economic factors dominate both individual and collective life, and that the focus on production and material wealth is normal or even desirable, is a grave error. Both capitalism and Marxism are ensnared in this narrow, materialistic worldview. To transcend this, we must reject the notion that human progress is tied to economic systems or the distribution of wealth. Instead, we must affirm that economic concerns, which merely address physical needs, should always remain subordinate in a healthy society. Beyond this, we must uphold a higher order of values—political, spiritual, and heroic—that transcends the categories of "proletarian" or "capitalist." It is within this higher order that true meaning, hierarchy, and dignity are established, culminating in a superior command, an Imperium.

We must also confront and eliminate the misguided ideas that have infiltrated even our own ranks, such as the glorification of a "state of labor," "national socialism," or the "humanism of work." These concepts, along with attempts to reduce politics to economics, reflect a dangerous regression. Similarly, the obsession with "socialization" and the elevation of the "social idea" as a panacea for civilization are misguided. These notions often stem from a degraded political environment and a misunderstanding of the true nature of the "social question." Marxism did not emerge in response to a genuine social issue; rather, the social issue is often artificially created by Marxist agitators. As Lenin himself acknowledged, revolutionary movements are rarely spontaneous but are instead driven by external manipulation.

To move forward, we must focus on ideological deproletarianization, purging the socialist influence from those still untainted. Only then can meaningful reforms be pursued without risk. In this context, the corporative idea can serve as a foundation for reconstruction—not as a bureaucratic system that perpetuates class conflict, but as a means to restore unity and solidarity within businesses. This requires transforming businesses into cohesive, almost military-like entities, led by individuals of responsibility, energy, and competence, who inspire loyalty and collaboration among their workers. The goal is the organic reconstruction of business, free from the demagoguery of unions and the false promises of "social justice." We must revive the dignity, solidarity, and impersonality of ancient guilds, ensuring that each individual finds fulfillment in their rightful role, recognizing their limits and potential for excellence. A craftsman who excels in his craft is superior to a king who fails to uphold his dignity.

Furthermore, we can replace the partisan parliamentary system with a structure based on technical expertise and corporative representation. However, these technical hierarchies must remain subordinate to the higher, integral hierarchy that encompasses the political and spiritual dimensions of the state. The "state of labor" or production is a reductionist concept, akin to reducing a human being to mere physical functions. Our standard must be the integral hierarchical idea, which stands as the true antithesis to both the "East" and the "West." In this, there can be no compromise.

If the ideal of a virile and organic political unity was a cornerstone of the world that was ultimately overwhelmed—and through it, the Roman symbol was revived in Italy—we must also acknowledge instances where this ideal strayed and nearly succumbed to the errors of 'totalitarianism.' This distinction must be clearly understood to avoid conflating the two and to prevent providing ammunition to those who seek to obscure the truth. Hierarchy is not hierarchism; the latter is a recurring malady that must be resisted. The organic conception of society is fundamentally opposed to state-worshiping rigidity and leveling centralization. True unity transcends both individualism and collectivism, emerging only when individuals stand before one another in their natural diversity and dignity. This unity must be spiritual and centrally orienting, adapting its expression to different realms while opposing the rigid, extrinsic relations characteristic of 'totalitarianism.' Within this framework, the dignity and liberty of the human person—misconceived by liberalism in individualistic, egalitarian, and privatized terms—can be fully realized. It is in this spirit that the structures of a new political and social order must be designed, with clarity and solidity.

Such structures require a central, supreme point of reference—a new symbol of sovereignty and authority. This commitment must be unequivocal, free from ideological wavering. The focus here is not primarily on institutional forms but on cultivating a specific climate, a fluidity that animates relationships of loyalty, dedication, and service, devoid of individualistic ambition. This is necessary to transcend the gray, mechanical, and devious nature of the current political and social order. Today’s situation is at an impasse, as those at the top lack the asceticism required for the pure idea. The correct direction is obscured for many, whether due to unfortunate precedents in national traditions or the tragic events of the past. The inadequacy of the monarchical solution is evident, as its remnants are defended only in a hollow, castrated form, such as constitutional parliamentary monarchy. Equally, we must reject the republican idea, as modern republics are products of Jacobinism and the anti-traditional, anti-hierarchical subversion of the 19th century. A nation transitioning from monarchy to republic can only be seen as degraded. In Italy, loyalty to the Salò Republic’s Fascism must not lead us down the false path of republicanism, as this would betray the core ideology of the Fascist Twenty Years—its doctrine of the state as authority, power, and imperium.

This doctrine must be upheld without compromise, refusing to descend to lower levels or align with any faction. The specific form of the symbol can remain undecided for now. The immediate task is to prepare, in silence, the spiritual environment necessary for the resurgence of a superior, untouchable authority. This authority cannot be embodied by a republican president subject to removal, nor by a tribune or populist leader whose power is formless, devoid of higher legitimacy, and reliant on mass appeal. Such figures represent not the antithesis of democracy but its logical conclusion—a manifestation of Spengler’s 'decline of the West.' This serves as a new touchstone for our side: a sensitivity to these distinctions. Carlyle’s 'Valet-World,' governed by the 'Sham-Hero,' must be rejected in favor of a true, transcendent authority.

We must address another point in a similar vein, focusing on the stance to take regarding nationalism and the concept of the fatherland. This discussion is particularly relevant today, as many, in an attempt to salvage what remains, advocate for a sentimental and naturalistic view of the nation. This perspective is alien to the highest European political tradition and conflicts with the idea of the state we have previously discussed. Even setting aside the fact that the notion of the fatherland is invoked by vastly different groups, including those aligned with red subversion, this conception is increasingly outdated. On one hand, we see the emergence of large supranational blocs, while on the other, the need for a unifying European reference point becomes more apparent—one that transcends the narrow particularism inherent in the naturalistic idea of the nation and nationalism.

The principle at stake is paramount. The political level represents superior unities compared to those defined in naturalistic terms, such as nation, fatherland, or people. At this higher level, what unites or divides is the idea—an idea carried by a distinct elite and embodied in the state. Fascist doctrine, faithful to the best European political tradition, prioritized the idea and the state over the nation and the people, recognizing that the latter only gain significance and form within the framework of the state. In times of crisis, like today, it is crucial to adhere firmly to this doctrine. Our true fatherland lies in the idea, not in shared land or language, but in shared principles. This is the foundation.

Against the collectivistic unity of the nation—des enfants de la patrie—which has dominated since the Jacobin revolution, we must uphold an Order: men loyal to principles, embodying a higher authority and legitimacy rooted in the idea. For practical goals, achieving new national solidarity is possible, but not through compromise. The essential precondition is the formation of a group defined by a shared political idea and vision of life. There is no alternative, especially now. Amidst the ruins, we must initiate a process of renewal, where elites and symbols of sovereignty and authority elevate a people to the status of a traditional great state, rising from chaos. Failing to grasp this realism of the idea means remaining in a sub-political realm of naturalism and sentimentalism, if not outright chauvinism.

We must also be cautious when national traditions are invoked to support our idea, as there exists a Masonic and anti-traditional interpretation of history that distorts the Italian national character, emphasizing its most problematic aspects, such as the communal revolts and Guelphism. This tendentious portrayal of an "Italian character" is one we reject, leaving it to those who celebrated the so-called "second Risorgimento" through the partisan movement.

Idea, order, elite, state, men of the Order—these must define our battle lines for as long as possible.

A few words must be said about the problem of culture, though not too many. We do not overvalue culture. What we term a "worldview" is not rooted in books but is an internal form that may be clearer in an uncultured individual than in an "intellectual" or writer. The harmful effects of a "free culture," accessible to all, lie in leaving individuals exposed to myriad influences, even when they lack the capacity to engage with them critically or discern properly.

This is not the place to delve deeply into this issue, except to note that today's youth must internally defend themselves against specific currents. We have previously discussed a style of uprightness and self-mastery, which presupposes a proper understanding. Young people, in particular, must recognize the poison fed to an entire generation through distorted and false visions of life that have weakened their inner strength. These poisons persist in culture, science, sociology, and literature, acting as infectious agents that must be identified and countered. Beyond historical materialism and economism, which we have already addressed, the most significant of these are Darwinism, psychoanalysis, and existentialism.

Against Darwinism, we must reaffirm the fundamental dignity of the human person, recognizing its true place not as a mere animal species differentiated by "natural selection" and tied to primitive origins, but as a being capable of transcending the biological plane. Though Darwinism is less discussed today, its essence endures. The biologistic myth of Darwinism, in various forms, functions as a dogma upheld by the materialism of both Marxist and American civilizations. Modern man has grown accustomed to this degraded view, accepting it as natural.

Against psychoanalysis, we must uphold the ideal of an ego that refuses to abdicate, remaining conscious, autonomous, and sovereign in the face of the subconscious and the chaotic forces of sexuality. This ego is neither "repressed" nor torn apart but achieves a harmonious balance of faculties aligned with a higher purpose. Psychoanalysis has shifted authority from the conscious principle to the subconscious, the irrational, and the "collective unconscious," mirroring the broader societal crisis where the lower undermines the higher. This tendency operates on both individual and societal levels, reinforcing each other.

As for existentialism, even if we distinguish it as a confused philosophy relevant only to narrow circles, it reflects a systematized spiritual crisis. It embodies the fragmented, contradictory human type that experiences freedom as anguish, tragedy, and absurdity, feeling condemned in a valueless world. Yet, Nietzsche pointed the way to reclaiming meaning and establishing an unshakable law and value, even in the face of nihilism, under the banner of a "noble nature."

These lines of overcoming must not remain intellectual abstractions but must be lived and realized in their direct significance for inner life and conduct. True clarity, uprightness, and strength can only be attained by freeing oneself from the influence of these distorted and false ways of thinking.

Let us briefly address a final point: the relationship with the dominant religion. For us, the secular state, in any form, belongs to the past. We particularly reject the so-called "ethical state," a product of a shallow and hollow "Idealist" philosophy that attached itself to Fascism but could just as easily support anti-Fascism through a dialectical sleight of hand. However, while we oppose such ideologies and the secular state, we also find a clerical or clericalizing state equally unacceptable.

A religious dimension is essential as a foundation for a truly heroic conception of life, which is crucial for our group. It is necessary to feel within ourselves the certainty of a higher life beyond this earthly existence, as only those who possess this conviction have an unbreakable and indomitable strength. Such individuals are capable of absolute commitment. Without this sense of transcendence, confronting death and disregarding one's life can only occur in fleeting moments of exaltation or irrational outbursts, lacking the discipline that derives from a higher, autonomous purpose. However, this spirituality, which should animate our people, does not require the rigid dogmas of any specific religious confession. The lifestyle we advocate is not one of Catholic moralism, which seeks merely to domesticate humanity through virtue. Politically, this spirituality fosters skepticism toward elements central to the Christian worldview, such as humanitarianism, equality, love, and forgiveness, prioritizing instead honor and justice.

Certainly, if Catholicism could embrace a capacity for high asceticism and, on that basis, transform faith into the soul of a militant force—akin to the spirit of the Crusades or a new Templar order, resolute against chaos, surrender, subversion, and modern materialism—we would support it without hesitation. Even if it merely adhered to the positions of the Syllabus, it would suffice. However, given the current state of confessional religions, which have largely succumbed to mediocrity, bourgeois values, and modernism, and given the post-conciliar Church's shift toward the Left, a mere reference to the spiritual suffices for us. This spirituality serves as evidence of a transcendent reality, infusing our struggle with a higher purpose and attracting an invisible consecration for a new world of leaders and men.

Here are the essential guidelines for the struggle we must undertake, particularly aimed at the younger generation, so they may carry forward the torch and commitment from those who have not faltered. They must learn from past mistakes, discern clearly, and revise what has been—and continues to be—shaped by contingent circumstances. It is crucial not to stoop to the level of our adversaries, avoid relying on simplistic slogans, and refrain from overemphasizing the past, which, though worthy of remembrance, lacks the contemporary and impersonal force of the guiding idea. Equally important is resisting the allure of false political realism, a weakness inherent in every partisan approach. While our forces must engage in the immediate political struggle to carve out space and counter the unchecked advance of the Left, the true priority lies in forming an elite capable of defining an idea with intellectual rigor and unwavering intensity. This idea must unite us, embodied in the figure of the new man—the man of resistance, who stands firm amidst the ruins. If we emerge from this era of crisis and illusory order, the future will belong to this man alone. The modern world is now overwhelmed by the destiny it has forged. Even if this tide cannot be halted, adhering to these principles will preserve our inner resolve. Whatever unfolds, we will do what must be done, and we will remain part of a fatherland no enemy can ever occupy or destroy.

May 18, 2025, 21:51

May 18, 2025, 21:51

May 18, 2025, 21:51

periodic reset of civilizations @periodic_reset_ofcivilizations@gameliberty.club

https://www.slideserve.com/periodic_reset/bieber-camp-denies-rumors-he-s-in-diddy-s-secret-mole-man-illuminati

May 18, 2025, 18:53

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periodic reset of civilizations @periodic_reset_ofcivilizations@gameliberty.club

https://sendvid.com/aiv6yhaa

May 18, 2025, 17:24

May 18, 2025, 17:24

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periodic reset of civilizations @periodic_reset_ofcivilizations@gameliberty.club

Europe is not merely a geographical entity—it is a spiritual inheritance. The European belongs to the Indo-European tradition, rooted in a solar, heroic ethos. The term Aryan signifies a sacred, regal principle—transcending mere ethnicity, it embodies the kshatriya ideal, the divine order of kingship.

All Solar Peoples have, at some point, broken free from the grip of the earth, abandoning the chthonic goddesses in favor of the solar stars.

Lunar Inversion (Solar-Feminine, Lunar-Masculine):
In all lunar languages, the sun is feminine (Old English sunne, Old Norse sól, Gothic sunnō, Old High German sunna, Modern German die Sonne, Dutch de zon, Arabic ash-shams, Hebrew shemesh), while the moon is masculine (Old English mōna, Old Norse máni, Old High German māno, Modern German der Mond, Dutch de maan, Arabic al-qamar, Hebrew yareach). This inversion reveals the fundamentally lunar, chthonic, and Demetrian nature of their thought.

The Germanic branch, with its tendency toward liberalism and gynocracy, is a decadent deviation from the primordial Aryan spirit. It has succumbed to the leveling forces of modernity, losing touch with the transcendent hierarchy of the sacred.

True Aryan tradition exists beyond moralistic dualism—there is no "good" or "evil," only order, strength, and the sacred law of domination.

### The Degeneration of Language

One clear sign that history has not progressed—except in purely material terms—is the impoverishment of modern languages compared to their ancient counterparts. In structural organicity, articulation, and flexibility, no modern Western "living" language can rival classical Latin or Sanskrit. Among European tongues, only German retains traces of its archaic form (hence its reputation for difficulty), while English and the Scandinavian languages have suffered erosion and flattening. Ancient languages were three-dimensional; modern ones are two-dimensional. Time has corroded them, rendering them "practical" and fluid at the expense of coherence—a decline mirrored across culture and life.

Words, too, have a history, and their shifting meanings reveal changes in the spiritual and intellectual disposition of their speakers. A telling comparison can be made between Latin terms and their Romance derivatives, which often retain the same outward form but have suffered a degradation in essence. The original, higher meaning either lingers only residually or has been distorted, even trivialized.

### Examples of Semantic Decline

1 — Virtus
The most striking case is virtus. Modern "virtue" bears almost no relation to its ancient meaning. Virtus signified strength of mind, courage, prowess, and virile fortitude—rooted in vir (man in the strict, not merely biological, sense). Today, the word has been moralized, often conflated with puritanical sexual morality—so much so that Pareto mocked it as "virtuism." A "virtuous person" now implies the opposite of the classical vir virtute praeditus: where once it denoted heroic pride and fearlessness, it now suggests bourgeois conformity.

Only in limited contexts—such as the "virtues" of a plant or acting "by virtue of" something—does the original sense of virtus as an efficacious force survive.

2 — Honestus. Linked to the ancient concept of honos, this term originally signified ‘honorable,’ ‘noble,’ and ‘of high rank.’ The modern interpretation has degenerated into bourgeois mediocrity—mere ‘decency’ and moral conformity. Where once nato da onesti genitori denoted noble lineage, it is now reduced to a hollow, almost mocking phrase. In Rome, vir honesta facie described a man of superior bearing, just as the Sanskrit arya embodied both spiritual and physical nobility—a concept antithetical to modern egalitarian decay.

3 — Gentilis, gentilitas. Today, these terms evoke the image of a "gentleman"—a polite and amiable figure. Yet, in antiquity, they denoted the idea of gens: lineage, stock, race, or caste. For the Romans, one was gentilis by virtue of qualities inherited from a distinct bloodline. These qualities might, in some cases, manifest as an air of detached nobility—far removed from mere "good manners" (which even an upstart can learn) or the modern diluted notion of "kindness." Few today grasp the true depth of phrases like "a gentle spirit," remnants of a nobler understanding preserved only in the language of past writers.

4 — Genialitas
Who is a "genius" today? A hyper-individualistic man, imaginative and brimming with original ideas—exemplified by the artistic "genius," fetishized as the pinnacle of humanistic and bourgeois civilization, even surpassing the hero, the ascetic, or the aristocrat.

But the Latin genialis points to something far removed from individualism and humanism. It derives from genius, which originally signified the formative, generative, and mystical force of a gens—a blood lineage. Thus, genialitas in the ancient sense was tied to "racial" qualities in the higher, sacred meaning.

Unlike the modern "genius," this element rejects individualism and arbitrariness. It is anchored in deep roots, obeying an inner necessity through fidelity to supra-personal forces of blood and race—forces that, in patrician lineages, were always bound to sacred tradition.

5 — Pietas. Today, the term "pious" has been degraded to signify a sentimental, humanitarian attitude—synonymous with mere compassion. In ancient Rome, however, pietas belonged to the sacred. It defined the Roman’s primordial bond with the gods, and secondarily with all elements of Tradition, including the State. Before the divine, it signified a disciplined veneration—a recognition of belonging, yet tempered by respect, duty, and loyalty. This was an elevated form of the reverence owed to the pater familias (hence pietas filialis). Pietas also extended to the political sphere: pietas in patriam demanded unwavering fidelity to the State and fatherland. In certain contexts, it even assumed the meaning of iustitia. He who lacks pietas is unjust, impious—a man adrift, ignorant of his ordained place within the higher order, both divine and human.

6 — Innocentia. This term conveyed ideas of clarity and strength, reflecting its ancient meaning—purity of soul, integrity, disinterestedness, and righteousness. It was not merely the negation of guilt. Unlike today’s trivialized notion of an "innocent soul," which implies naivety or simplemindedness, the ancient concept carried a higher, more virile significance. In modern Romance languages, such as French, "innocent" has even been degraded to denote feeble-mindedness, further illustrating the decline of its original noble meaning.

7 — Patientia. The modern understanding of the term, compared to its ancient meaning, again reveals a process of weakening and degradation. Today, a "patient" person is merely someone who avoids anger, remains passive, and displays tolerance. In Latin, patientia signified one of the fundamental virtues of the Roman: it embodied inner strength, unshakable resolve, and the ability to hold firm, maintaining an indomitable spirit against all trials and adversities. This is why the Roman race was said to possess both the power to achieve greatness and to endure equally formidable hardships (cf. Livy’s famous phrase: et facere et pati fortia romanum est). In contrast, the modern interpretation is entirely diluted—now, even a donkey is held up as an example of so-called "patience."

8 — Humilitas
In the dominant religious framework of the West, "humility" has been distorted into a false virtue—utterly alien to the Roman conception. True Roman virtus stands in stark opposition to humilitas, which signified baseness, wretchedness, cowardice, and dishonor. For the Romans, death or exile was preferable to such degradation (humilitati vel exilium vel mortem anteponenda esse). Expressions like mens humilis et prava ("a low and evil mind") and humilitas causam dicentium (denoting the inferior status of the accused) reinforced this disdain.

Race and caste further defined humilitas—humilis natus parentis indicated plebeian birth, a mark of inferiority compared to noble lineage. The modern, economically driven notion of "humble origins" would have been incomprehensible to the Romans, who valued hierarchy and innate superiority. No true Roman would have exalted humilitas as a virtue, much less preached it. As one emperor noted, nothing is more contemptible than the pride of those who claim humility—though this does not justify arrogance. True dignity lies in strength, nobility, and unwavering self-awareness.

9 — Ingenium. The modern term retains only a fragment of the ancient meaning—and, as usual, its least significant aspect. In Latin, ingenium encompassed not just mental acuity, insight, and foresight, but also one’s innate character, the organic and authentic essence of an individual. Thus, vana ingenia denoted those devoid of true character, while redire ad ingenium meant a return to one’s inherent nature, a life in accordance with one’s deepest being. This essential dimension has been erased in modern usage, which now conveys nearly the opposite. Today’s "ingeniousness" reflects intellectualist and dialectical superficiality—a restless, hyperactive cleverness—directly opposed to the classical sense of ingenium as the expression of a disciplined, character-rooted mode of thought and being.

10 — Labor. The shift in the meaning of the word labor reflects a profound transformation in worldview. In Latin, labor primarily conveyed toil, suffering, and burden—never virtue. The Greek ponos carried a similar sense. For the Romans, labor denoted servile, material exertion, opposed to higher action (agere), which was free, deliberate, and dignified. Those engaged in meaningful, vocation-driven craftsmanship were artifex or opifex—never mere "workers."

The modern glorification of labor exposes the plebeian degradation of the West. Industrialization has stripped work of any higher purpose, yet it is now exalted as an ethical duty—a perverse inversion. Traditional societies elevated action and art above base toil; modernity reduces even art and action to mechanized drudgery, driven by profit rather than vocation.

11 — Otium. This term has undergone an inversion in meaning. In modernity, "idleness" is seen as uselessness—a state of indolence, distraction, and passivity. Yet, in the Roman tradition, otium signified a sacred pause: a meditative state of concentration, calm, and contemplation. While misuse could lead to dissipation (hebescere otio), its true meaning was nobler. For Cicero, Seneca, and others, otium was the necessary counterbalance to action—without it, action degenerates into mere agitation (negotium) or vulgar labor.

The Greeks, as Cicero noted, flourished not only through intellect but through otium and diligence. Scipio the Elder embodied this higher idleness: "He was never less idle than when idle, nor less alone than in solitude." Sallust declared his leisure more beneficial to the State than others' busyness. Seneca’s De Otio elevates otium to pure contemplation, framing it as service to the greater, metaphysical State—the realm of gods and eternal principles. True otium is not escapism but an ascent to the perception of the transcendent order.

Even Catholicism once recognized sacrum otium—sacred contemplation—before surrendering to modern decadence. Today, in a civilization reduced to mechanical toil and neurotic frenzy, the classical meaning of otium is lost. Modern man flees himself, drowning in distractions—radio, television, sports, politics—anything to avoid solitude. These are the narcotics of a disintegrated age, ensuring no inner life remains, no resistance to the collective current of so-called "progress."

12 — Theoria. The modern degradation of the Greek term theoria reflects a broader decline. Today, "theory" implies lifeless abstraction, detached from reality—a sentiment echoed in the quote: "All theory is grey, my friend. But forever green is the tree of life." This is a distortion of its original meaning. True theoria signifies an active, fulfilling vision, the operation of the highest principle in man: the (Olympian intellect), which will be explored later.

13 — Servitium. The Latin verb servio, servire carries the positive connotation of "to be faithful," yet its predominant meaning is the negative one: "to be a servant." This latter sense forms the basis of servitium, which explicitly denoted slavery or serfdom, deriving from servus (slave). In modernity, the term "to serve" has gained widespread use while shedding its degrading implications, particularly among Anglo-Saxon peoples, where "service" as "social service" has been elevated into an ethical ideal—the sole modern ethic. Just as the absurdity of "intellectual workers" goes unnoticed, so too has the sovereign been reduced to "the first servant of the nation."

The Romans, far from being a race of "idlers," exemplified the highest political loyalty—to the State and its leaders—yet in a fundamentally different spirit. The shift in the essence of these words is no accident. The modern vulgarization of terms like labor, servitium, and otium reflects a deeper decline—a movement away from virile, aristocratic, and qualitative values.

14 — Stipendium. Today, the term "stipend" evokes bureaucracy, civil servants, and payday. In ancient Rome, however, stipendium referred almost exclusively to military service. Stipendium merere meant to serve in the army under a commander. Emeritis stipendis denoted completion of military service; homo nullius stipendii described one unfamiliar with martial discipline. Stipendis multa habere signified participation in many campaigns. The contrast is telling.

Similarly, Latin terms like studium and studiosus retain only fragments of their original meaning. Today, studium suggests dry academic pursuits, but in Latin, it conveyed intensity, fervor, even love. In re studium ponere meant to take something deeply to heart. Studium bellandi was the love of combat. Homo agendi studiosus was a man of action—the antithesis of the modern laborer. Studiosi Caesaris did not mean scholars of Caesar, but his devoted followers.

Other forgotten meanings include:
- Docilitas: not docility, but a readiness to learn.
- Ingenuus: not "ingenuous," but free-born, non-servile.
- Humanitas: not modern "humanity," but self-cultivation and lived experience.
- Certus: not mere certainty, but resolve. Certum est mihi meant "it is my decision." Certus gladio was one skilled with the sword. Diebus certis meant fixed, appointed days—a certainty rooted in will, not chance.

This leads to an active conception of certainty, as in Vico’s verum et factum convertuntur—later diluted by neo-Hegelian deviations.

The original Roman understandings of fatum, felicitas, and fortuna will be examined next.

15 — Fatum: The Traditional Roman Concept of Fate

In modernity, "fate" is often understood as a blind, oppressive force that crushes human will, leading to tragedy and misfortune. This negative view fosters fatalism, where man is powerless against an indifferent, deterministic universe.

In contrast, the ancient Roman conception of fatum was fundamentally different. Rather than a blind law, fatum represented a meaningful, intelligent order—a divine will governing the cosmos and history. Rooted in the Indo-European rih-tuh, Roman fatum reflected the idea of a higher, just law unfolding through events. The Fata (Fates) were not mere arbiters of doom but embodiments of cosmic justice, despite later chthonic influences distorting their image.

Rome, as a civilization of action, saw fatum not as an abstract metaphysical principle but as a dynamic force within history. The term derives from fari (to speak), linking it to fas—divine law as revealed through oracles and omens. Thus, fatum was both the decree of the gods and the guiding word that allowed men to align their actions with higher forces.

Traditional Roman piety (pietas) demanded that man actively conform to this sacred order. Success—fortuna and felicitas—was not mere luck but the result of acting in harmony with fatum. Military and political triumphs were seen as proof of this alignment, while failures stemmed from neglecting divine signs (religio) and acting in hubristic isolation from the gods.

This worldview mirrors the principles of traditional technology: just as modern engineers harness natural laws for efficiency, ancient Romans sought to align with cosmic laws to achieve "felicitous" action. Rome’s greatness, as some historians recognize, lay in this sacred discipline—where freedom meant not rebellion against fate, but conscious participation in its divine order.

The same principles apply when confronting spiritual and divine forces rather than mere material laws. For traditional man, understanding—or at least sensing—these forces was essential to discern the conditions favorable to action and to recognize what should or should not be done. To defy fate, to rebel against destiny, was not some Romantic "Promethean" defiance celebrated by modernity—it was sheer folly. Impiety—the absence of pietas, the rupture of religio, the severance from the sacred order—was synonymous with stupidity, childishness, and arrogance.

Unlike modern technology, the laws of historical reality were not seen as dead, mechanical forces detached from man and his purpose. The divine order, linked to fate, operates up to a certain threshold—beyond which it is no longer absolute but merely influential (astra inclinant, non determinant). Here begins the properly human and historical domain. Ideally, this realm should extend the divine will: man’s free action must actualize what was only latent. When this occurs, history becomes sacred revelation, and man—no longer acting for himself—assumes a transcendent dignity, elevating the human world into a higher order.

This is far from fatalism. To oppose fate is irrational; to align with it is transformative. The ignorant are dragged by events (fata nolentem trahunt), while the knowing, by embracing fate, are guided toward a higher purpose (volentem ducunt). Thus, man transcends his individuality, becoming an instrument of the cosmic will.

In ancient Rome, history and institutions often reflected a sacred encounter between the human and the divine—where higher forces manifested through human action. Consider the Roman cult of Jupiter: the vir triumphalis did not merely celebrate the god but embodied his victorious essence. As Kerényi and Altheim observed, the triumphant imperator wore Jupiter’s insignia because the god was not just the cause of victory—he was the victor. Rome’s genius lay in realizing the divine in action and political order, transforming myth into history and history into a higher, fateful mythos.

This reveals a profound truth: such moments signify an identity between human will and transcendent forces. Here, freedom is not mere subjective choice but alignment with a higher order. To resist fatum is a sterile defiance, a hollow gesture against the fabric of reality. True freedom emerges when the individual becomes an instrument of this order, channeling forces that would otherwise remain indifferent to human desires.

How, then, did modernity reduce fatum to a blind, oppressive force? This degradation stems from the rise of individualism and humanism—the severance from the sacred, leaving only an incomprehensible, alien power. "Fate" now symbolizes forces man neither understands nor controls, yet which he has unwittingly empowered through his own spiritual decline.

These reflections on fatum conclude our examples, illustrating the need for a philology that penetrates beyond words to their spiritual roots. Such study should extend beyond Latin to the broader Indo-European tradition, revealing deeper connections obscured by time.

Title: The Decay of Words: A Traditionalist Critique of Modern Linguistic Degeneration
Tags: #Language #Rome #SpiritualDecline #Modernity #Tradition

1. Virtus vs. Virtue – Ancient virtus signified virile strength and heroism; modern "virtue" is moralistic, puritanical, and effeminate.
2. Honestus vs. Honest – Originally denoting nobility and honor, now reduced to bourgeois "decency."
3. Gentilis vs. Gentle – Once tied to lineage and racial quality, now mere superficial politeness.
4. Genialitas vs. Genius – From a racial-spiritual force of the gens to individualistic artistic fetishism.
5. Pietas vs. Piety – Sacred duty to gods and state degraded into sentimental humanitarianism.
6. Innocentia vs. Innocence – Once implied purity and integrity; now connotes weakness and idiocy.
7. Patientia vs. Patience – Roman endurance and fortitude diminished into passive tolerance.
8. Humilitas vs. Humility – A Roman vice (baseness) twisted into a Christian "virtue."
9. Labor vs. Work – From toil and punishment to a plebeian cult of mechanized drudgery.
10. Otium vs. Idleness – Sacred contemplation replaced by modern distraction and decadence.
The decay of language mirrors the decline of the West—words once anchored in hierarchy, race, and sacred order now reflect democratic vulgarity. Only a return to Tradition can restore their true meaning.