By the Weak, For the Weak



y the Weak, for the Weak.

Practically all modern or post-modern political philosophies — the “isms,” if you would  — can be tagged with such an epithet. For the philosophy that vocally professes to concern itself with an exaltation of power and strength, fascism ironically doesn’t escape the pandering to and critical foundation upon the Weak, either. But first, to clarify: what is weakness? Who is “weak?” You of course will find various subjective definitions wherever you may turn; different cultures, sub-cultures, and philosophies have had their own standards for what qualifies as a vulnerability, a weakness, and who is Weak, by their very nature. We all have weaknesses, some the plain frailties of mortality, others a perceived physical inadequacy, others a moral failing in the eyes of society. And therein might we identify what weakness transcendently is, regardless of its diverse cultural incarnations and the mere condition of being mortal. A failing or an inadequacy, of which the inverse — adequacy — indicates something of necessity. That which is necessary, needful, to society and to the wider political sphere of “nature” — to the entirety of relations and interactions that defines one’s face, one’s honour. That which is born of decadence, moral and material — that which is not needful, and especially instead burdensome, and that which is not mindful of honour — that is transcendent weakness, with a greater decadence being a measure of greater decay and the diminishment of a society.

We obviously regularly speak of or condemn certain actions as “weak,” “decadent,” and the various adjectives denoting its undesirability. But it is few and far between who speak of a person’s existence as such —  weak, flawed, decadent, undesirable — due to its impolite (but incorrect) association with eugenics or racism. Here, however, we may invoke a Nietzschean concept — many of which are also quite popular with fascists — that of the “Many-too-Many,” the Superfluous. Though Nietzsche is not exclusive in determining the foundations of weakness in decadence, frivolity, he makes it explicit at numerous points in his work. “Many-too-Many are born,” these unnecessary ones, people born out of the fruits of decadence, moral and material. Fascism, like the other moral decadencies, the -isms, is the most decadent of them all, making no secret of its catering towards the weak, in its fanatical approval of the rule and authority of the State resting upon their weakness and inadequacy. It is the legitimation of a few, themselves weak , valourless, and vapid “Last Men,” to wield the “coldest of all cold monsters” that is the State, to cater to as well as simultaneously harness the multitude of weak minds, weak wills, the wasteful bulk of the Superfluous, with the promise that their bellies will never be empty if they accept their role as cattle and sing the praises of the State.


It is  no coincidence, then, that the past century, continuing into present, has seen the rise of fascism, whether it calls itself “national socialism” or a “people’s republic” — right or the left, with only the most superficial of differences. We see in the course of human history that, as population increases — as Many-too-Many begin to enter into the world — human society shifts from that of a free and proud people, wanderers of wide lands, where all are their own masters — to a mostly sedentary, but still largely proud, warly people, due to the restrictions of population packing. Whether we mark this as the beginning of “civilisation” or that of “barbarism,” it sewed the seeds for what would become our modern state of affairs — the world of the powerless man, Nietzsche’s indolent Last Man, a world made by the Weak, inherited by the Weak. No longer can one walk away, not so easily at least, from the disagreeableness of one’s neighbours or a dispute. Boundaries are patrolled more vigorously — for beyond them lie resources that are all the more precious for a burgeoning population. Freedom decreases — personal agency is restricted — the power of the individual, his sovereignty bestowed by his necessity, his strength before his peers, is diminished, and is traded for an increase in decadence and all of the ills it entails.

And then, as population continues to increase — as resources are ever-increasingly stressed, as horizons close, as the lands become gradually more fragmented and degraded, and as knowledge of the land, thereby, becomes increasingly incomplete and degenerate — those who promise, whether or not they can truly deliver, security and sureties, either against one’s enemies and for the precarious provisions of life, to this swelling population whose ability to procure everything they need on their own is gradually decayed — these people, these aggrandisers, are granted further power and elevation, to act and expedite on issues that would have formerly been addressed by every individual member, at their own discretion, by their own power. The power of the individual is further dispersed, diffused, if you would — the significance of necessity, the absolutely necessary, is lost as mankind becomes increasingly frivolous, the Many-too-Many living by and for the decadence produced by the glut furnished by the aggrandisers.

This power, this decadence — this lack of necessity — only serves as a positive feedback for population, and vice versa. Whereas it would benefit everyone to limit the size of their population — to maintain only who and what is necessary, the Strong and independent, the Beautiful, however that aesthetic and strength may be defined by a culture — if in no other way than to maintain the quality and sustainability of one’s land, for those who stand in a position of power over others, the aggrandisers, it becomes, at some point, beneficial to them to have more members of their group — more followers — either to increase the amount of tribute they amass or enhance their ability to wage wars of conquest, rather than honour (a fine point of distinction between “tribal” and “civilised” warfare), and take from others for the same end (enhancing wealth). “All States are natalists,” to quote Clastres — all States want the continued growth of the Superfluous, with their moral and intellectual ineptitudes, their indelible weakness, fostered by the unnutritious, watered-down milk of decadence, suckled from the State’s teat. “The rich get richer, and the poor get poorer,” to paraphrase a popular adage — and more irrelevant, more docile, and, up until certain modern inventions and innovations (now on the gradual backslide in this respect) such as antibiotics and synthetic fertilizers, sicker and less physically-fit, as those at enshrined at the top of these weak and unnecessary ones ever push forward their agenda of expanded wealth, expanded population — increased quantity, diffused and reduced quality.

The steady cultivation and increase of the Weak is part of why paganism, another favoured, purloined gem of some fascist strains, ultimately failed. Religion reflects the structure of a society and how it interacts with the rest of the world, both in its political relations and how it utilises its “resources.” What can broadly be called paganism — the polytheistic religions, some of them more or less animistic than others — is rooted in a time of largely ritualistic warfare and anarchic chieftains and warriors. One’s word is one’s bond, in such a time, and honour is by and large the currency of the society, what determines where one stands and how one can improve one’s status. It is rooted in societies that, while not egalitarian, originally functioned on merit, and where awe of the natural world was still quite alive. As the Superfluous continue to increase, though — as the land and its “heathen” divinity inherent therein is degraded, and its mystery and life draws away, and as the aggrandisers of society are pushed to ever expand their power — one can see how such a religious form faltered.

The gods become solidly anthropomorphised, and their stories rendered incoherent in the process, to legitimise the supremacy of man — man is the sole living image of the gods, or, more properly, god, the divine, is fashioned in man’s image. Nearer to the truth still, the gods are fashioned after the supremacy of the aggrandisers, the structure, power, and the monolithic law of the State. Originally the chieftains of nature and humanity, in all of its complex, uncontrolled, unconquered diversity, the gods are necessarily many — but this plurality necessarily does not best facilitate or reflect the purpose of the aggrandisers, who, in their continuous struggle for ever greater wealth, necessarily seek the consolidation of power, power through the conquest and unified subjugation of the plurality of peoples, dissolving what was once many, independent tribes or cultures into a larger and more-homogenised unit. The fierce, warly, and many gods and spirits of the wild world no longer make sense in societies that increasingly distance themselves from procuring, by their own power, what they need from nature, and who therefore can scarcely comprehend it on average, who are given to consolidating (and almost always forcefully) the many spiritual and political authorities into the one. And so enters the Abrahamic faiths.

Speaking of its European avatar, Christianity, it was the near-perfect socio-cultural tool to carry forth and continue the trend of legitimising the growth and consolidation of power for the sake of a few, at the expense of strength, honour, rectitude. There is one god, the dictator of all things, who brings everything into being on its own — its law is final, its rule over nature totalitarian, and the self-importance of humans is already engraved into its mythology. With false promises of a better lot — full bellies — for the underlings, and a promise for greater glory and power for the aggrandisers who followed the cross, it easily swept away the ways of once-proud and anarchic peoples — ways that had persisted, though in often strange and corrupted forms, when those peoples, the society, had already plodded onto the treadmill of converting men into sheep, and so had begun to fail. One can see the population-power effect at work throughout its history, beginning with a form of Christianity that was at first somewhat tolerant of traditional and diverse “folk” practices or beliefs, then, as population continues to rise and resources are stressed — times become hard — a violent and reactionary quashing of much that remained follows, embodied in the state-exacerbated mania of the witch craze (which conveniently resulted in yet a greater acquisition of power for political and religious leaders, while also shaping and sharpening the tools of propaganda and fear that have since been redeployed continuously into the industrial era). It is important to note that such a craze scarcely touched Éire, and one can assert that it was due in no small part to the nature of the society, which, up until the fall of the Gaelic order, was highly decentralised and treated warfare still partly ritualistically, which necessarily led to slower population growth and an inability for any one aggrandiser to cease disproportionate amounts of power, to consolidate, to shepherd in the idea of “efficiency” and with it, the mass manufacture of the Superfluous Ones, the fruits of decadence.




Man bowed before god — the God, the perfect incarnate of the State, before which all are, quite explicitly, reduced to the flock under the shepherd. Sheep, docile, submissive, permissive — so permissive that they are readily led to their own slaughter. And so they did, and still do, when the next great social upheaval occurred with the advent of industrialism. There is much that can be said about the State’s involvement — with its ever-prescient goal in seeking an increase to its power — in deliberately attacking systems of self-sufficiency — inefficiency, in their eyes — and reducing peoples to a rootless and decultured being, the most abjectly Weak of all Weak beings in such a descent. All personal pride, and even the family itself, has been appropriated into the tremendous power wielded by the aggrandisers, due in no small part to the continuous flow of the Superfluous, the Many-too-Many, into the world, stifling possibilities for those alive now and those who are to come. Most have given up nearly every last vestige of their own power, their autonomy and agency, by allowing the production of their sustenance to pass entirely out of their hands, becoming “consumers,” i.e. the dogs waiting for scraps to be thrown to them for their tricks. They do not raise their own children, allowing it to be done by schools set up by the aggrandisers, and they by and large do not control the production of their own culture, whether in the form of art or holding a role relevant to the culture’s existence (such as the aforementioned enculturation process instead handled by schools). One is instead but one of the Many-too-Many, the Superfluous, the disposable, one who can be easily replaced and forgotten by any number from the glut of human excess.

Christianity itself is now very visibly faltering, its hypocrisy and its few archaic points of virtue and restraint being held up to the light for its incompatibility with the current global social structure in much the same way paganism was at its end. The aggrandisers, as ever, still lust for ever more power, though — and so now the phenomenon of fascism and the rise of the totalitarian state. A fascist State, left or right, communist or fascist, is one that professes that there is nothing of spiritual or cultural significance beyond what is blatantly interwoven in the raw power of the State itself. It is its own religion thereby, and the inheritor of Christianity, before which the pagan gods were made into man’s image, then consolidated into the one god-man, and now man himself — or more properly, the aggrandisers, the heads of state, the State — dispenses with all pageantry and boldly declares itself god. It is the pinnacle of the game of the dehumanising of mankind, the degeneration of culture and the height of decadence, the loss of pride, agency, necessity, strength, and honour. It is the creation of the Weak for the Weak, because without the Weak — the Superfluous, the sheep — it could never exist.

Part of the creed of this new religion requires one to acknowledge and then accept as one’s immutable destiny that one is Weak, and therefore deserves to be dominated, to have no personal agency, either for oneself or one’s people, by those who build their thrones on weakness — just as Christianity demanded the inescapable acknowledgement of being born in “sin,” or, as with Protestant predestination, that one is either inescapably damned or saved. One does not have to look far, after all, to find the pseudo-scientific narratives from their ilk, comparing the strength in nature — whether peers against peers, or predator after prey — to justify the State’s shepherding of psychologically-damaged and unfortunate stock, of which such zealots are one of the latter, demonstrating that they are quite aware and accepting of their Weakness, in the exaltation of Stockholm syndrome. Elsewise, and not implausibly, they may have fooled themselves into thinking they are one of the destined and exclusive heads of the State, or some other delusion bestowing strength in what is and for the Weak, what is for the destruction of the vital cultures they pine after. It is the same old “song and dance” of decadence and decay, in short — man broken into the role of sheep, bleating the praises of God, be it the Abrahamic one or its true face, the State.

dpgA true exaltation of strength, in rejecting weakness, rejects decadence, and some fascist thinkers have done as much, at least, as identifying moral corruption as an evil, even if often focusing on the proximate or wrong symptoms of such. Necessarily, that entails a drastic reduction in population — though the ability for such to happen in some manner, much less justly (the State would insure it is unjust), in any timely fashion, before a prospective Malthusian solution occurs, is quite dubious. However it may be, that represents a true return to strong and healthy cultures — having cultures, peoples, in the plural, devoted to maintaining their own necessity, and the beauty and meaning inherent in necessity, which necessarily rejects the consolidating and homogenising powers of the leviathine State, and, by doing so, rejecting the efficient systems of feed and herding which allows for the bolstering and continued proliferation of the Superfluous, the Unnecessary, the Weak. That is truly living with Law, with respect to a so-called “authority,” as some fascists seem to crave — for necessity, and all that entails, in all of its beauty, is the Law of the allusory nature itself.

One can call our modern ecological crises the climatic build-up of an animal population about to crash because of the exhaustion of its resources, in insisting on upholding honourless decadence and weakness. It took several thousand years to get here because humans are so long-lived — and there was some resistance to the State’s consolidating project, among strong peoples who clung to their culture to the bitter end — and the process may have taken a lot longer, if not for the harnessing of fossil fuels — but the end is all the same. The demands of honour, and the laws of the gods that it embodies, that the weak should truly perish, will reassert itself — the question is whether we continue to exalt Weakness until the bittermost end, or if we attempt to reclaim our strength, our power, our necessity, our peoples, in a fight to vanquish Weakness and its Champion, the State. When the dust settles, then will there finally be the world for the Strong, by the Strong, for honour and the man of honour.



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