Now Is the Time

I need to get a lot off my chest. I might be Australian, but the US election affects us, and Australian interest has been high. The thing is though, I work in a white female dominated industry, one that is also historically ‘progressive’ in its views. My family is progressive; my friends are progressive. No one I know even understands what alt-right or Neoreaction means. Heck, they still think conservatives and progressives are fundamentally different. So the day of the US election 2016 felt a literal surreal.

I’ve had money on Trump winning since Brexit. Once he won the primary and the Brexit vote came in, my confidence in a Trump victory went up to about 80%. That’s good enough for a bet. Everything I saw since then gave more and more support to this theory. And now that it actually fucking happened, that proves my stance retrospectively. It proves the liberal establishment is so far its own arse, it can see daylight again, and mistakes it for salvation. It proves that politcal correctness is despised, especially poignant given the furor around Jordan Peterson. It proves we prefer a real person over a fake politician (sorry, oxymoron, just politician). It also proves that the time is ripe for a true reactionary movement.

Of course, how this would come about is difficult to determine. Do we actually try and push for the removal of democracy, replacing it with a cryptomonarchy, possibly King Trump given the line of succession is clear? Do we just try and make small changes from within now that the Republicans hold all the power? This will probably involve a big push with the Sailer Strategy. What about in Australia, where do we go now? Who will be our King? There’s a lot to discuss.

I’m not completely positive. Yes, it looks like Russian and Asian tensions may have been eased already, at least from the early congratulations their leaders have expressed. But overall I think it is much more likely that Trump will just be an average President and not much will get done. Of course, anything positive he does do will make him an excellent President, in the same way that the hope around Obama’s election resulted in…well, the Obama Presidency. The more likely event is that some bad stuff happens, and Trump gets the blame. He might only be a one-termer (but let’s not forget that he hasn’t been stumped yet). Now the American Republicans actually have a mandate, they better fucking do something with it. I do think there is a high chance the conservatives will squander it, unless Trump (very possible) acts like a King and just gets shit done. His 100 day plan is clear and succinct, perhaps a little ambitious. But he needs strong help. Peter Thiel and Elon Musk must be brought in. Scott Adams wouldn’t hurt to have around either.

But enough about what should or could happen, I want to talk about the progressive response.

What a Time to Be Alive

I started the day in Australia waking up to the usual tirade of establishment media basically handing Clinton the presidency. It was a done deal. Over before it had begun. I have to admit, I felt a weight in my stomach.

Months ago I had actually made a $150 bet with a woman in my office that Trump would win. The day started with everyone laughing at me, asking if I was worried. I stayed silent, shrugged. ‘We’ll see,’ I said.

Then the counting started.

We had a business lunch with two American clients (female). There was about 5 staff members including me (the rest all female). The Americans were busily checking updates (they come from New York/Maine) and receiving text messages from their friends and family (one of the women received a text from her son: ‘WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?’). Of course conversation turned to politics. And it was not pleasant.

First, as the only white male at the table, the amount of times the ongoing result was blamed on ‘white males’ was quite shocking. Imagine blaming crime on black people with a black person at the dinner table. My God. Maybe they just gave me a pass because I’m young, so surely I’m progressive. And that was another theme, the fact that we were now, at that very moment, regressing (hate to break it to you but…). ‘All this progress we have made will disappear.’ What fucking progress? More racial division under Obama? A flimsily lowered unemployment rate? Growing inequality? What FUCKING progress? All these comments flying across the table, and all I could do was nod as a very strange feeling of euphoria grew in my stomach as the result cemented itself in the history books.

The second unpleasant topic was dichotomically, of course, women. I mean that these women around me all but admitted that the only reason to vote for Hillary was because she had a vagina. And rather than admit to their own bias, they used this ‘fact’ to put the blame on misogyny. To my face patriarchy and ingrained misogyny were given as the only reasons people (sorry, white males, not people) voted for Trump. When people talk about projecting, this is what they mean. Here you have liberal white females who appear to only be voting for Hillary because she would be the first female President (and they’ve seen her face before) putting all the ‘blame’ of Trump’s victory on misogyny. Sweet mother of God, I could not believe I was witnessing this.

And the day after the victory the tirade continues. Most shocking of all, as I Left for work this morning, I passed a school child, a white male aged around 10 or so. I heard the words ‘uneducated white male’. In that moment I knew that this level of depraved thinking is deeply embedded in the education system. People have been shamed into hating themselves. Progressiveness runs deep.

Now, remember that woman at work I made a bet with? So I walk into the weekly sales meeting, grinning as I walk up to her. No jovial remarks like yesterday. No gentle prodding. She was enraged. She called me an ‘evil man’. See, apparently she managed to conflate my bet with support (I wouldn’t say I support Trump because of his policies, but preference is support). Apparently I’d said some remarks while making the bet as we had been a little tipsy. She said, verbatim, ‘You called her “A something something something woman.”‘ Now, I don’t recall saying anything in particular (and clearly she couldn’t bring specifics to her argument either) but criticizing Hillary is clearly blasphemy. She threatened – literally threatened – to expose my blasphemy to the room. I was shaken, shocked at her vitriol. Thankfully I managed to deny it and was backed up by some other women who were present. Wearing a mask can be hard.

And that’s just it, the responses have been superb. Students rioting, crying on social media, celebrities flipping out. I walked into the office and everyone was discussing it, saying how they just couldn’t believe it and no one had seen it coming. I raised my hand and demurred. ‘Some people did.’ I have never seen such mass delusion and willful ignorance combined with, somehow, a sense of smugness.

Another Brick in the Road

Neoreaction is a journey for me. I am getting there. Slowly my eyes are opening. The absolute, complete disdain these people have against Trump supporters can not be classified as anything other than insane, or perhaps delusional. Delusions of grandeur. Delusions of self-righteousness. It was all there for me to see. It was there for the world to see as the pollsters and media shills suddenly had all their projections reversed when faced with reality. I am currently reading all of Moldbug, and this is exactly what he talks about. It is absolutely mesmerising to read something from 2008 while the ‘projections’ roll-out before my very eyes. It is, quite simply, like witnessing a miracle. And that’s not even considering the will of Kek.

What needs to happen now is a serious movement. In the UK, the US and Australia (and where all free thinking people reside). Embrace the swell and ride the wave to the shore of glory. If you live in Sydney and are reactionary in thought, I would love to meet and discuss where we can go from here.

I’m sure there will be much more dissection of the results to come. All I can say to any progressives reading this: too late, mother fuckers.

Team Rocket

Or Team Reaction?

JESSIE
Prepare for trouble!

JAMES
Make it double!

JESSIE
To protect the world from devastation!

JAMES
To unite all peoples within our nation!

JESSIE
To denounce the evils of truth and love!

JAMES
To extend our reach to the stars above!

JESSIE
Jessie!

JAMES
James!

JESSIE
Team Rocket, blast off at the speed of light!

JAMES
Surrender now, or prepare to fight!

My kind of villains.

You Know It When You See It

Or perhaps more pertinently, feel it.

I’ve described myself as a neoreactionary without fully appreciating what neoreaction precisely is. But as I continue to read about Reaction (see The Shipwrecked Mind) it makes more and more sense. And it becomes obvious that this where my own mind is at.

Of course we have Nick Land as a figurehead, with his always interesting posts, to help point the way. There are plenty of great introductions out there. But the movement is clearly gaining mainstream prominence, with Tyler Cowen commenting on it recently. The world is getting progressively weirder, and the Cathedral have begun to notice in the year of our Lord, 2016.

For me personally the following summations have really struck home that, yes, I am a neoreactionary:
Ross Douthat:

But while reactionary thought is prone to real wickedness, it also contains real insights. (As, for the record, does Slavoj Zizek — I think.) Reactionary assumptions about human nature — the intractability of tribe and culture, the fragility of order, the evils that come in with capital-P Progress, the inevitable return of hierarchy, the ease of intellectual and aesthetic decline, the poverty of modern substitutes for family and patria and religion — are not always vindicated. But sometimes? Yes, sometimes. Often? Maybe even often.

Bloody Shovel:

Why are we reactionaries? Because modernity sucks. In what way? Well, let’s count the ways:

1. Women are unpleasant, men are unmanly

2. Foreigners everywhere

3. Dysgenics

4. Corruption

5. Aesthetic taste has collapsed

But if Reactionary thought is tied to the past, that we’ve all made a great mistake, how does that connect with futurism? Simply because it must. You cannot ignore scientific and technological progress, and you must bend it to what is traditionally human. We are all no more than interacting parts, ones and zeroes. Everything is reducible to this, but we can build on what we have to begin with.

Of the various branches that neoreaction contains, I am not of the religious persuasion, only partially of nationalistic thinking and uncomfortable with embracing the capitalist argument.

Essentially, we need revised versions of democracy and capitalism, not the degenerate forms they’ve undertaken in the name of plutocracy.

It seems to me, and many of us, that the plutocrats aren’t fighting to expand human wealth. They are fighting to become an endogamic caste lording over the mongrel masses.

In this sense Left-inclined people actually align with neoreactionary thought. You can be anti-globalist for other reasons than being ‘racist’ and ‘anti-immigrant’. Globalism is pushed by the elites – with the facade of tolerance – in order to gain ever more wealth and power. We all want to live.

If anything, neoreaction is the habit of being wary. And you can’t fault that.

Why Go Vegan?

It’s been joyous to finally find some in the rational community who take veganism seriously. Yes, Scott from SSC has talked about it in the past and makes the case for ‘meat-eating vegetarians’ but I find his arguments ridiculously weak, not helped by the fact that he clearly never really tried very hard.

I tried being a vegetarian for several years and it was horrible and I ended up subsisting almost entirely on bread and Quorn and I don’t want to go back there.

 

One reason I’m not a vegetarian is that I really really hate vegetables.

A pretty tepid point of view, but not as ambivalent as people who just don’t care about animal suffering and death. It seems that rationalists a) have pet charities and causes and b) think that giving money is more important than actions. There is really no argument against being vegan AND giving to charity. Well, OK, there is if you are allergic to nuts and beans or something, but then you’re technically just a waste of resources anyway so let’s just be rid of you altogether.

So it’s not that the argument against veganism is very strong, it’s that people’s preferences are more important than those of animals. This ranges from the above preference of other altruistic pursuits and a lack of convenience, to animal ethicists who advocate for better conditions, but still eat meat because they’ve made it acceptable in their heads. Yes I am talking about this very special person. As I’ve said before, people from all sides of politics want to revert to a ‘simpler time’. But we don’t live in that world. We live in a world set for veganism, a technological future that can support humanity’s needs without killing animals directly for food. To deny this is the height of both hubris and naivety.

That is why I think veganism ties in very well with the current political movements of the right, as well as that of accelerationism. Progressives often make lip-service to vegetarianism – which is a weak middle-ground anyway – and base their choice on emotion. The strongest argument for veganism is not emotion and hand-wringing; the strongest argument is that because we can do a good deed, we must. We must move forward, we must embrace our future, because only by doing that can we possibly better ourselves. Carnism (the opposite of veganism) is also an invisible system, one based on consumerism and perpetuated by governments and corporations the world over. Veganism is also tied to secularism, as religion places man above animals, and indeed ‘holocaust’ originally referred to mass animal sacrifice. This has been a religious practice from the start, and like our animal ethicist above, if you place ceremony and regulation on top of something inherently wrong, it makes a-OK. Cognitive dissonance is alive and well. No joke, I have seen Tweets by farmers where they take a photo of an animal about to be slaughtered and literally give thanks for their life, as if this is somehow meant to absolve their sins.

Veganism is simply a no-brainer, but that does not mean I don’t question it. I am still reading a number of texts and thoughts that try to breakdown where a logical human should stand, and a lot of that involves how we view subjective suffering.

EDIT: I said veganism is secular, but it seems it’s also in the Bible. Genesis 1:29 ‘Then God said, “I give you every seed-bearing plant on the face of the whole earth and every tree that has fruit with seed in it. They will be yours for food.’ Guess mankind really did screw up.

Embrace the Future

I’m quite new to the whole blogosphere, particularly the realm of NRx and the Altright (and boy, do they love to blog). But I have latched on to a number of thinkers: Ran Prieur, Scott Alexander, Nick Land, Sister Y and, probably the most interesting, Robin Hanson. Now, they all have different opinions and methods, but the one thing they all have in common is that they are constantly thinking about the future. Whether that is exit or evolution, they share a variety of views that may or may not come to pass. Robin is most interesting because he’s now written a whole damn book backed up by Science.

To me, there is one thing that binds us all, Left and Right and everything in between. That one thing is both simultaneously mass delusion and a lack of hope. On the one hand you have doomers who predict a catastrophic end to humanity. Often these folks will be more libertarian, pro-gun and emphasise liberty. On the other hand you have a lot of Regressives on the Left who hand-wring about technology and the future (or as one particular heretic calls it, ‘moralism and modernism’), and call for a reversion to pastoral living. At the end of the day they believe the same thing, lying to themselves en-masse that there is no future. The Right cling to their guns and force everyone out; the Left want to bring everyone into the fold and sing about Niceness. The differing means to the same end can be argued over, but at the end of the day most people are simply scared of the future.

And that’s it, simple fear. The thinkers and writers I mentioned above are beyond that primal state of fear. They embrace it or encourage it, whatever form it takes: accelerationism or transhumanism or any other future one can envision. It’s time to face up to it and try to deal with it, not pine over a utopian reversion or some power-fantasy. Both the Left and the Right fail when they lie to themselves.

Every Planet We Reach is Dead #1

Somewhere, distant. Two specks close-in like mating bugs, one a luminescent dominatrix, the other a silent receiver. Their rings are immobile, frozen before the life-giving connection. The receiver is clearly older, its batteries long dormant. A single ring surrounds the engine, a giant, bulbous antiquity. The incoming arrival is long and slender, two rings at either end, one contracted and waiting. New and old will unite.

In the distance spins Vega, sputtering and spurting its gases, waves of radiation washing the vicinity in random bursts. So it has been for millennia. It has not seen life for a long time, but then, what does it care? There is no old or new, just forever and perhaps an end. At its core it rumbles.

***

Suspended in the Bulb, Joan Lewis sweats despite the cold. She doesn’t notice. A dozen displays surround her, move into her vision when needed. A stream of information bounces within her retina, half visual and half fed into her mind. The ship’s computer, Junko, works diligently to keep her completely up-to-date. Drugs surge through Joan’s veins, heightening her reaction times and thought processes, overclocking her body. Her hands rush around like erratic moons, and her facial expressions do the rest. Her feet are locked in on the pilot’s platform as the embodiment of Junko rotates and twists to suit her needs. Joan is suspended in symbiosis with the ship.

Behind her is the captain, observing, but also stepping in to bring up information when needed. His eyes dart back to Joan and a smirk breaks out as he watches her, watches her dance. Her work is better than his ever was. His body suit is warm, but he has his face free to feel the cold of the Bulb. Past the screens and the frenetic Joan is space. Endless space. Just creeping into the peripheral is Vega burning its blue-white brightness. The eagle has landed, Rigel thinks.

Rigel notices Joan focus, stiffen up, and her movements become longer and attuned. The time has come. He’s watched her do this a hundred times in the sims, but it’s always impressive, more so now that it’s for real. He can make out the other ship now, the Indomitable, as they come perpendicular to it. Slotting it between the two rings of Junko. Junko has come knocking to discover what conquered the unconquerable.

‘How does the airlock look?’ Rigel says to Joan. She doesn’t look up, instead shooting off a data byte in his direction. He brings up the info.

The Indomitable is intact, no holes or damage. Except for the airlock. Signs of expulsion are evident, pipes drifting lazily out of the opening like an anemone. There are scars where heavy objects would have struck as they were jettisoned. An error or on purpose? Rigel can’t see anything that tells him one way or the other. If the hulk had been ripped open it’s going to make boarding difficult.

‘I can still make it, the lock gates aren’t incompatible with ours. I’m going in.’

Rigel throws down the scans.

Joan’s movements speed up, red lights flashing as she goes too far one way, then the other. On the hull spurts of gas pop at random, guiding them invisibly. Then a moment of silence, the warning lights cease.

‘Could be a bump,’ says Joan right before she makes contact.

In the gravity-less Bulb it isn’t an issue as the ship shudders around them. In another instant the ship is rigid again, with an additional appendage. In an instant they are one vessel, the Indomitable now a cancerous growth to be healed.

‘Easy,’ says Joan, ‘now comes the really fun part.’

She disengages from the various wires and inputs, pushes off towards Rigel. She glides towards him, her eyes locked on his and intent on only one thing. Rigel catches her as she comes close, and she latches on to him.

‘We’ve got an hour before the rest of the crew wake up,’ Joan says, a mischievous smile springing to her face. ‘And I’m all worked up.’

Rigel grins. She grabs his hand and pushes off back down towards the tunnel and the bunks. He loves it when she takes control.

***

Slowly but surely the crew awakens. Joan watches them in the corner of her eye, a distraction while she comes down off the cocktail of amphetamines and sex. Their bodies shake as they are reanimated, blood pumping back through empty veins and stirring organs. The worst part is the full-body pins-and-needles sensation, thinks Joan. Thankfully it only takes a few hours before the body is back to full capacity.

She stretches up, bones cracking for the first time in decades. Rigel lies in bed, his eyes glazed over as he flicks through pre-boarding checks.

‘Come, play a game with me,’ she says. He comes back to reality. ‘We’ve got a little time.’

She sits down at the table, bringing a game of chess up. The pieces materialise and she chooses white. Rigel saunters over, his skin suit crawling over him. The ship is still cold from the aeons.

‘I’ll probably be rusty, even if you give my AI a handicap,’ he says, coughing and easing himself into the seat.

‘It’s not about winning, dear,’ Joan says, even though a competitive glint is etched into her eyes. They begin, rapidly at first before slowing into a rhythm.

‘Ah, you’ve got a response to everything I throw out, says Rigel. ‘Never mind being two steps ahead, you’re at least five. For such a mirrored game it becomes asymmetrical so quickly.’

‘No different to anything else in nature or humanity. There’s an equal and opposite reaction for everything, you only have to be ready for it.’

Rigel grunts in amusement.

‘I just need to think outside the box then, beat you back with randomness.’

‘I’m plenty used to randomness, too.’

The AIs they were using would throw out multiple moves per turn, a thousand calculations a second. Junko watches from a distance, mostly disapproving of all moves chosen by both parties.

‘Have you ever played vanilla chess?’

Joan looks up. ‘No, I haven’t actually. No point.’

‘I have. It’s remarkable the patterns a computer chooses over a human. For one thing, humans like repetition, familiarity. But it’s all a simulation, no? It’s the same principle as docking this ship, just a tad more complicated in the types of calculations that Junko has to come up with. That right Junk?’

The lights dim in response.

‘Such a quiet thing. Sometimes I wonder what Junk thinks about in the downtime.’

‘What downtime? Me, I wonder if the AI can distinguish between a game and real life, or if both have equal weighting.’

‘Either way, they offer us the best possible result. We just have the courage to take it. Check.’

‘Such the inspiration, Rigel. But we’re all pieces in the larger game. Us in particular. Moved to the farthest reaches of known space on the back of some vague hope.’

‘Sometimes I don’t mind being manipulated. We’ve got the chance to change the future of humanity after all.’ He gives out a grim chuckle.

‘You know as well as I know the only reason we’re here is that it’s better than home. And that it gives the only people worth a shit a slight chance of a good time.’

‘Hey, I think you’re worth a shit. That’s why I brought you with me.’

‘Don’t kid yourself, I came because you’re useless without me.’

He laughs at that.

‘By the way, checkmate.’ Joan leans back, satisfied.

‘Well fuck me, that came from nowhere.’

‘Don’t mind if I do.’

‘Do what?’

‘Fuck you.’

Part Two