tisdag 25 november 2014

Book News: Ernst Jünger -- A Portrait

My latest book is a biography about Ernst Jünger. The title is "Ernst Jünger -- A Portrait". The imprint is Manticore Press. You can buy the book on Amazon.com or Amazon.co.uk. And here's a review of the book, from Living Traditions Magazine. Their verdict is: "[a] biography of the very highest calibre."
For about 30 years I've read the books of Ernst Jünger. He was a German author living 1895-1998, a true legend having participated in both world wars as well as being a nationalist, a collector of beetles and butterflies, a world traveller and an informal teacher on esotericism. My book goes into it all: the books on war, the controversial politics, the philosophical and life-affirming sides and then some. The number of pages is 290 and the book layout is smashing. See for yourself in the pictures of this entry. An example of the style is this, from the chapter about the novel "On the Marble Cliffs" (1939):
”On the Marble Cliffs” displays a rich collection of characters. We have [for example] prince Sunmyra, pale and frail yet strong and belligerent, a romantic dreamer aroused from his sleep and ready to act against darkness, mirroring in a way the statue of the Bamberg Horseman (der Bamberger Reiter) in Bamberg cathedral: a heroic medieval knight, seemingly distraught but essentially a true rock of resistance. Mythologically he is in my book juxtaposed by the knight depicted by Dürer in his 16th century engraving ”The Knight, Death and the Devil”, a no-nonsense fighter with a literal devil-may-care attitude, a man of a hard mindset and yet no mere barbarian. And this character could be said to be represented by another ”Marble Cliff” figure: Biedenhorn, the commander of the mercenaries. The brothers at the centre of action get some help from him at the end, and before that he is lovingly depicted as the timeless solider, without higher ideals but reliable when it comes to battle and a jovial friend to his brothers in arms.
The book is already selling and I've received praise for it from readers. Buy it on Amazon.com or Amazon.co.uk.
Related Book Review of "Ernst Jünger -- A Portrait" - - - The Adventurous Heart - - - Jünger the Pious - - - On the Marble Cliffs - - - Jünger and the Craft of Science Fiction

söndag 16 juni 2013

A Changing World

I haven't updated this blog for over a year. But here goes. As always I'm Lennart Svensson and I'm a Swedish writer.

I have a lot to say. Generally this has been a good year. The intimated changes are beginnig to show: the Pope is reforming the Catholic church, Sweden's indigenous, German people are awakening and asserting their rights against multicultural slavery, and the Syrian affair is not going in the direction of what the NWO wants. There won't be any full-scale MENA war starting in Syria, not even a Libyan-style intervention. It will wind down more or less peacefully.

A year ago I said that the world is changing. Here is that post. There I talked about the world being raised to a higher vibration. Well has it? Has the world been raised to a higher, vibrating glory? I can't say for sure. Midwinter 2012 went by seemingly without anything happen. But esoterically I have the feeling that the world changed. More peaceful energies are, since then, out and about.

- - -

I'm a writer and I write this and that these days. E.g I contribute to a Swedish weekly magazine called Nya Tider. It's right-wing and it's great. It was the only Swedish paper that told the truth about the riots in May. All the other MSM papers apologized the riots. Only Nya Tider said: this is done by immigrants, fueled by socialist activist groups.

MSM lauded the stone throwing thugs. Nya Tider hailed the police's efforts.

That's how it is in Sweden today: MSM is a miasma of illegality, lies and warmongering in Syria. Nya Tider, the web and operators like me want the truth out.

Other than that I think these times are great. Irreversable changes are in the offing. Well, a lot has already changed, like "racism" going out of favour as a label against nationalist and traditionalists. And the impossibility of a large scale war in MENA: that's a major change in the world's mental climate. The time frame for starting a NWO war against Iran is said to have expired already in 2007 or was it 2008. Other than that I'm glad that Mitt Romney didn't win the presidential election. I mean, Mr. Obama is a hard nut to crack, I can't get a grip of the man. But the truth seems to be that he's in for massive American disarmament. Last January, in 2012, he cut down the Army substantially. This year has seen the cutting down of the Navy and the Air Force.

These changes are mostly made without broad public reporting. MSM seems rather to wanna scare people and say that war is imminent. A shot fired in a Syrian desert is like Stalingrad to them. I mean, come on. It's a peaceful world and has been since 1987. The NWO kinda reversed it in 1996-2003. They went for chaos and destruction with 9/11, Afghanistan and Iraq. But now we're back on the peaceful track.

Anyone who speaks against me, who thinks that we're in for a large scale war, I simply can't take seriously.

Short Story: The Swedenborg Machine
Ernst Jünger
Reality Bites
Short Story: Virtual Guru
Nifty Posts On This Blog
Linderhof Castle, Bavaria

lördag 21 april 2012

Changes Ahead

I'm an avid student of esoteric stuff, as you already know - see for example this post on conspiracies. And now the shit gets heavier, now we're about to see the greatest conspiracy of all time go down. If a certain Steve Beckow is to be believed.

He is a writer and a radio show host. He's very heavy in on the 2012 stuff, primarily that this year will bring ascension, an uplift from our current 3rd density to 4th and 5th. 3d is normal reality, 4d means moving with planet Earth to a lighter energy. Going into the astralbody. Earth ascends and so do we.

This link leads to Beckow's start page. There are some further links on his site. The current top post (as of late April, 2012) is about Pleiadean visitings. But there's political stuff too, about conspiracies. Illuminati rule: this is to go down now says Beckow. It's about freeing man from the current banker, nihilist, materialist regime. Mass arrests or just one at the time? I dunno but something's brewing. And it's all done with Higher Realms helping us.

All this might sound far out. And it is. Anyhow, for information purposes you might find it interesting. Some more links on current esoterics, 2012-related:

. American Kabuki. Readable blog by an American residing in Japan. Ascension, arrests etc: here.

. American Free Press. Slightly hippyish but genuine, has some concrete stuff on bankers resignations, grass root revolution, channelings etc: here.

So, dear reader. News about the arrests, changes and new births haven't permeated into Main Stream Media yet. But I figure it will. 2012 will be a year of rumours and here I add my part to the rumour mill. Share and enjoy.

The Swedenborg Machine
Breivik who...?
The Dragon's Lair
I Wanna Be Seen Green
Sword and Staff

lördag 7 januari 2012

"Antropolis" is a novel by Lennart Svensson

In 2009 I published a novel in Swedish, "Antropolis".

"Antropolis" has a symbolical quality to it. You know, like "Metropolis" or "Heliopolis". Literary qualities aside, the title shines like a beacon: Antropolis.

If you read Swedish you can buy the hardcopy here. But I guess few of you read Swedish. But as for the plot, here goes...

"Antropolis" relates how a certain Jenro Klao restores the ruins of a city and names it Antropolis, dedicating it to art, science and the humanities. Crystal technology and spirituality are the key words to the new age. When the story begins it's the year of 2165 and the city is thriving, but the forces of spirituality and technology now seem to clash in this utopia. Jenro Klao then decides to leave the city to its own measures for a while, going on a trip to olden times, to Faustian cities and metropolises teeming with combustion cars and scudding clouds.

The title and concept of Antropolis is what Guillaume Faye would call an idea thrown in the face of history. It doesn't have to be correct or consistent in itself; the mere symbolical and poetic qualities of the title is sufficient to make it a classic.

Antropolis has, as intimated, a certain Gestaltkvalität. It's archetypal. We're heading for antropolitan times by default. We're heading for times with crystal technology, innate spirituality and dance. Gone are the times dominated by fear, repression and brainwashing. Antropolis shall triumph. Look around, look out your window: it's antropolitan.

The ISBN code of the book is 978-91-633-3887-8. The number of pages are 205. Here is the pdf available free online.

The Infantryman of the Future
Why I Hate "Avatar"
Ernst Jünger
Reality Bites
Virtual Guru

fredag 14 oktober 2011

Svensson: Beyond the Island of Death (short story)

It's storytime on Ersatz Moonlight. It's time for a short piece about an American army officer in France 1918 who has a chance meeting with a woman in a restaurant. During dinner he mysteriously dozes off and awakes in a garden, from where he is compelled to go to a sinister chapel.

When he awoke everything was gone: the restaurant, the green-eyed woman, everything. He was still sitting at a table, true, but otherwise everything was different: he was in a garden, he was surrounded by fragrant bushes, and the sky above was resplendent with impossible stars.

He didn’t feel ill at ease, no, on the contrary. There was something in the air, something afoot. Weird things were going on but he rose to the challenge, rose to the occasion – so he got up from his chair, took his cap, strolled through the garden, turned into a walk arched by pergolas and eventually reached a pond.

It was rather a large pond, a dam of sorts, the waters dark and still. In the midst of it there was an island with cypress trees. It reminded him of Boecklin’s ”Toteninsel”, the island of the dead.

His name was George Trevelyan, he was a Captain in the U. S. Army, 93rd Division, and recently he had taken part in the 1918 fall offensive which successfully drove the Germans out of France. Peace seemed imminent. He was a victorious officer in a supposedly glorious war, one of Pershing’s Crusaders defeating the Hun, enjoying a night out on the town. But the euphoria of the moment seemed to elude him; he didn’t just want to visit some brothel, not even the supposedly good one the officers had reserved for themselves in this Flandrian town where his battalion now was cantoned.

So instead he took a stroll through the cobbled streets of this Regnierville, as the town was called. He had finally ended up in a quaint restaurant with a violinist, exquisite menu and wines. He had even invited a fair lady from a nearby table to accompany him at his table. She had dark hair and green eyes and wore a purple dress, most stylish – and, as the finishing touch, an emerald necklace. They had exchanged toasts and dined on snails and sole hongroise, and it all seemed very classy and pure, not dirty and tatty as everything else in this decaying town close to the combat zone.

Then, strange as it may have seemed, he had fallen asleep. He had dozed off at the table, dining with this beautiful woman, and then he had awoken in the garden. But he didn’t stop and wonder about this enigma; instead he chose to get up and go down to the pond. Something beckoned him on.

And there, in the pond, was the island. A bridge led out to it. He couldn’t help but stroll out on the bridge and approach the mysterious island.

- - -

The waters were still, reflecting the stars in the sky. The island with its cypress trees loomed up before him. Without hesitation he walked ashore and turned into a path leading up to a white temple, a marble chapel. Like a sleepwalker he approached the mysterious building, with the premonition that here he would see his past and maybe his future. He was sleeping awake, he was beyond the Beyond; he had given up all doubts and second thoughts and just wanted to dream the dream to its end.

The temple was a simple, flat-roofed building, however with exquisite proportions; it made you calm by its very angles and surfaces, its space, its emptiness. He took off his cap and entered the vestry, and there he saw a book lying on a desk. Two candles were burning beside it and there was a chair to sit on – so he sat down, eyed the book and read on the cover: THE BOOK OF LIFE.

”The Book Of Life” he thought, now wasn’t that something. ”Ye shall read your name in the Book Of Life,” it said in The Scriptures, and voilà...

A book of life on an island of the dead, that was some oxymoron by the way.

Captain Trevelyan opened the book, starting on a random page where he found himself reading:

”Chapter 7322: Silverstar.”

And that ”Silverstar” was himself, his soul-name; he had reincarnated through life after life, only currently being named ”George Trevelyan”. How interesting he thought, now I get to know all the lives I have lived... Normally he didn’t brood over the ins and outs of reincarnation, but this was no ordinary moment: it was half dream, half reality.

So he read about how his soul was created in early times, and then on through life after life, lives always lived with some sort of warlike occupation, in the company of everything from stone axes and javelins to bronze swords and leather shields. He was file leader in Pharao’s army – and he threw rocks with a sling in King David’s army – and he fought in the front ranks behind a bronze shield at Marathon – and he rode across the Persian plains in search after Bessos, fought against battle elephants at the Hydaspes, and stood at the bier of Alexander in his Babylonian palace, the fertile lands of Mesopotamia being visible in a heat haze in the distance. That is, among other things he had been a soldier in the Macedonian army of Alexander the Great.

But it didn’t end there. After each life he went to heaven for moral debrief, and some karmic addition and subtraction was done to see where he would wind up next. And this time the karmic sum had him live out a life as a legionnaire, posted in some eastern region of the Empire. One day he attended the crucifixion of some rebel calling himself the King Of The Jews, not actually nailing him to the cross but standing guard during the event. Anyhow, he was there; orders were orders. And – strange to say – after the regular heavenly debrief he didn’t suffer from this karmically, getting thrown back into a life as a dog or somesuch for this deed: after all it wasn’t his idea to kill the actual rebel or prophet or whatever he was. That blame fell on Pilate who had ordered it and, more specifically, on the people whom Pilate let choose between the rebel and a thief. As we all know, the throng gathered outside the roman’s office was given the right to choose one of the two to survive, and the people chose the thief. As for Silverstar’s innocence he hadn’t become a legionnaire in order to kill prophets, he was a soldier upholding the law of the Empire.

The Being Of Light which discussed this with Silverstar, in that heavenly abode where we all go after death, made him however realize that there are other things in life than to fight and kill. But if you had to be a soldier, well then, make sure you are a good soldier, one that doesn’t fight for the sake of fighting but for some higher principle. Such as protecting the weak.

Silverstar was given som time to think about this, in his next life being incarnated as a medieval knight, protecting women and children and pilgrims and the like. Reading about this life in the strange chapel, the white house on the cypress island, Trevelyan had especially noted a heartwarming detail: as a crusader he had once had been cantoned in the castle of the Levantine Krak des Chevaliers, sitting and playing chess with a fellow knight in a chamber, while the desert below lay there in the afternoon sun, in the distance dissolving into a misty haze. It was just a picture, a non-decisive, run-of-the-mill, pedestrian moment in the everyday life of a man – but an enchanting one in all its triviality, one of those ordinary moments that make up a human life.

Trevelyan read about his lives, relived them all. Besides all the warlike goings on there were some encounters with a green-eyed woman, her being a soul created simultaneously as his own, thus being his soulmate and female dual, his anima. Theirs was truly a match made in heaven!

This person, with Greensleeves as astral name, met him again again, in life after life. They met each other as man and wife, as brother and sister, as colleagues and as distant relatives. In one life they even lived as twin brother and sister.

To relate all their lives together, all their company, all their spiritual growth, on earth as well as in heaven, would take too long. We will have to make do with some scenes:

. Silverstar riding into a Persian village as victorious Companion cavalryman in the army of Alexander the Great, halting by the well, ordering a green-eyed woman (Greensleeves of course) to give him a drink of water; the woman obeys and gives it to him, their eyes meeting in a deathless moment

. Silverstar as Roman centurion on the German border, living with Greensleeves in a cottage by the camp, the man watching her wife across the table as they sit and have dinner, their three young kids accompanying them, with Silverstar thinking: I am a very lucky man

. Silverstar as knight escorting Greensleves, by then a nun in medieval France, to a convent, riding through springtime landscapes and discussing God, Love, and Everything

. Greensleeves crying at the corpse of Silverstar on the fields of Naseby, helpless and bereaved, out of her mind at the sight of her beloved one having gone to the Great Hereafter

. Greensleeves being driven away from the farm Silverstar was given as payment in kind as captain of cavalry, having fallen for Marlborough in the battle of Blenheim; the woman and her two children going off to an uncertain future, living on the benevolence of others until she could find a steady job

. Greensleeves as sister advising Silverstar on career moves in the army of the post civil war era, the so called Gilded Age. That career ended for him as Colonel of Infantry, commanding a fort in Arizona on the Frontier, so maybe her advice wasn’t so sound after all...

Sitting in the chapel Captain Trevelyan closed the book; it ended after the death of the western fort-officer, his immediately previous life.

He mused about what he had read. In his heavenly debriefings he had for example received a karmic lesson, and that was to be a good soldier instead of a bad, if soldering now happened to be his bent of nature. And so he asked himself: have I been a good solider? Have I protected the weak?

He looked at the burning candles. I haven’t, it seemed, looking back at all these lives as a warrior, been a bad soldier, running wild and killed for the sake of killing. Then again, have I really been good? Maybe in that-ever-so-important career-way, but morally...?

- - -

Cogitations and broodings, trials and tribulations. But all that Trevelyan could think of as an answer was: ”Being good: well maybe I could start in this life...”

He looked at the candles and remebered the green eyes of his woman, his Greensleves, always being there for him in his successive lives. It was so much to remember, so many lives, so many happenings, so many scenes and moments. Yet, through it all, a sense of warmth remained, a sense of belonging. He had known love, he had known Greensleves. The two words seemed to mean the same thing for him. I’ve been in love, I’ve met Greensleeves! he thought. I’ve lived with that fair woman in life after life – loved her as a wife, as a sister and as colleague. I’ve loved her as a human being that have always been there.

He blew out the candles, got up and left the temple, going down the hill and over the bridge, finally returning to the garden where he first awoke.

And in the garden the green-eyed lady awaited him, the one he had met in the restaurant. ”Greensleves...,” he said.

She smiled enigmatically, took his hand and led him into the house, up a stair and into a bedroom where they made love. Afterwards they fell asleep in each others arms.

And when he awoke in the morning she was gone. All he could see was the sun shining through the gauze curtain, a clock on a chest of drawers and a painting of the castle Krak des Chevaliers.

She was gone – but it had been her he had met. It was she, his dual, soulmate and anima, in one word Greensleves. For that part they never met again, they only had this brief encounter in France 1918. However, that had happened before in his many lives, in the confluence of past existence – brief encounters that is, such as the ride through the springtime, medieval France escorting Greensleeves to the convent, on the way discussing God and Life and Death and Love. To name but one significant meeting.

When he left that particular nun at the nunnery, having completetd his mission, the nun had said as parting words: ”No meeting is the first, and no goodbye is the last.” He came to think about that when he awoke in the French hotel after the night’s lovemaking with the green-eyed woman, the Greensleeves of this incarnation. It was bitter-sweet indeed: however, he actually had the presentiment that they would never meet again in this life, but most surely in another life – in another place and another time. ”Together forever”: no meeting the first, no goodbye the last.

As for Trevelyan’s career the war ended soon after this, in november 1918. He got shipped home and was awarded The Silver Star, symbolical to say the least... He then returned to his peace-time work as a haberdasher in Birmingham, Alabama. He married a woman and had three kids. As for his war-time love he of course cherished the meeting with Greensleves, his soulmate, but he also wanted to live the life of a husband rather than being a bachelor. And as for him being a soldier he remained in the Army Reserve and took part in the next world war too, as an instructor and an officer in the field, but that is a story for itself.

But as for the theme of being a good soldier, well, for Trevelyan it all lost its meaning when being a soldier in itself wasn’t so important anymore. In 1945, after the Italian campaign, where he had been battalion ADC and spare company commander, he never went to war again. Just call it retirement if you will; all things considered he was done with fighting. He had done his due, learned his karmic lesson.

The Fall of Idallion
Why I Hate Avatar

fredag 16 september 2011

Controversial Science Fiction

Take a look at that cover: a swastika among symbols of America, isn't that controversial...? Well, maybe it is. It's a cover of Phil Dick's "The Man in the High Castle" which I briefly touch on below. It's a work of SCIENCE FICTION and that's what this post is all about, controversial science fiction. My focus is on the works of deceased authors but I also have some newer examples, the overall aim being to present science fiction literature with some bearing on the rightist, "controversial" topics of today. I have no textbook definition of "controversial" but let's say that I here discuss some SF works that are traditionally considered as contested and disputed. The disposition is: 1. Orwell 2. Heinlein 3. Nazi SF 4. Anarchism 5. Jünger and, lastly, an epilogue.

1. Orwell

The number one controversial, politically oriented SF-novel of all times, which one is that? I'd say it's George Orwell’s ”1984” (1948). It’s got this towering, iconic quality to it. They say: if your author name becomes a label, like Lovecraftian, Dickensian or Dantesque, then you’ve succeed, and we all know what ”Orwellian” is.

Not least are our times, the 2010’s, truly Orwellian. We live in an Empire with perpetual, peripheral wars and we have our equivalents to Newspeak and Two Minutes Hate. ”Freedom is Slavery” (since eating, watching TV and fornicating is the ”true” freedom) and ”Ignorance is Strength” (since castigating opposing voices in the media is the highest form of good).

Orwell’s book has been read as an assault against both Communist Russia and Capitalist America. But in the changing times the novel has metamorphosed once again, now becoming useful in decoding the governing techniques of the current nihilistic, ”liberal”, anti-white establishment. For instance, take Tim Wise’s outpouring after the right’s self-proclaimed triumph in the 2010 congressional elections. Lambasting white people Wise said things like: ”The clock… reminds you how little time you and yours have left. Not much more now. - - - [I]n about forty years, half the country will be black or brown. And there is nothing you can do about it. Nothing.” To that, and substituting ”white man” for ”man”, compare Orwell’s O’Brien:
If you are a man, Winston, you are the last man. Your kind is extinct; we are the inheritors. Do you understand that you are alone? You are outside history, you are non-existent.

In other words, both Wise and O’Brien are dyed-in-the-wool nihilists. Orwell for his part wasn’t the first to write about nihilism, about totalitarian states crushing the sensitive individual. The original seems to have been Yevgeny Zamyatin’s ”We” (1921), about an engineer in a future dystopia who starts to doubt the propaganda only to end up as a brainwashed robot. In the same vein is Karin Boye’s ”Kallocain” (1941), dealing with the issue of mind control in a future totalitarian state.

2. Heinlein

Now let’s talk about Robert A. Heinlein. In 1959 he wrote ”Starship Troopers", commonly regarded as a controversial work of politically oriented SF with its totalitarian form of government, with only the military given the right to vote as man in this future is involved in a fight to the death with evil aliens. But in essence this isn’t so controversial, so far-flung. I'd like to put it like this: total war equals totalitarianism, war has a tendency to marginalize constitutional rights even in genuine democracies. Heinlein's only fault was to couple war with deliberate limitations of franchise. His proposed system can also be seen as a defence for the idea that rights come with obligations; we need to be reminded of that today, since for example we always hear about ”gay rights” but never about ”gay duties”. In ”Starship Troopers” on the other hand the right to vote is linked to the duty to serve in the armed forces. Alien war or not the idea has a nice symmetry to it: quid pro quo, you don’t get something for nothing.

But Heinlein has more controversial stuff up his sleeve. In ”Sixth Column” (1941) America is invaded by PanAsians, a combination of Chinese and Japanese. They are finally defeated with a racially selective weapon, only killing mongoloid people. Then we have ”Farnham’s Freehold” (1966) with a visit to a future America ruled by blacks with a taste for cannibalism and polygyny. How did Heinlein get away with that one? Beats me.

3. Nazi SF

”Nazi SF”, for its part, is mostly a post-war genre. I’ve only found one pre-war novel with a racial-chauvinist theme, Rütger Essén’s ”The Darkened Metropolises” (De släckta metropolerna, 1937). Fair, heroic supermen battle against chandalas in a post-debacle future, the Aryan side eventually winning out and building a world along Nazi guidelines. It slightly rings of H. G. Wells’ ”The Time Machine” (1897) with its future conflict between ethereal upperclass people and troglodyte workers. It also reminds you of Thea von Harbou’s ”Metropolis” (1926), immortalized in Fritz Lang’s movie. That film’s payoff seems wise enough: ”The mediator between head and hand should be heart.”

Moving on to post-war Nazi SF, let’s take a look at Norman Spinrad’s ”The Iron Dream” (1970) which stirred up some controversy at the time. For example the book was prohibited in Germany. It’s supposed to be a book that Adolf Hitler could have written had he not become the leader of Germany but instead emigrating to the US, subsequently drawn into the science fiction subculture as an illustrator and a writer. The novel itself relates how a certain Feric Jaggar (= Adolf Hitler) rises to power in Heldon (= Germany) along with his cronies Waffing, Boggel and Best (= Goering, Goebbels and Hess). The final challenge comes in facing up to the Zind (= Soviet) empire.

Spinrad had the noblest motives for writing this novel, showing Nazism ”as it really is”. However, things didn’t quite work out as he had planned. Some real Nazis, The American Nazi Party took the novel to their heart, including it on some website’s To read-list. And some ordinary reader, too unsophisticated to get the metafictional approach, the Spinrad-writing-how-Hitler-could-have-written thing, actually liked the book: ”This is a rousing adventure story and I really enjoyed it. Why did Spinrad have to spoil the fun with all this muck about Hitler?” (Source: Wikipedia/”The Iron Dream”) So who got the last laugh? In writing like Hitler you have to pay the price. Nothing comes for free.

In treating ”SF and Nazism” I guess you have to mention Philip K. Dick’s ”The Man in the High Castle” (1962). Here the Axis powers have won the war and split America between them, Japan taking the western part and Germany the eastern. This isn’t exactly a controversial book but it’s a good book, ”a good read” as they say. Dick’s views goes down well with any right-minded liberal but other than that his police-state dystopia (”Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said”, 1974) and his satirizing of left-wing and right-wing minds alike (”Eye in the Sky”, 1956) shows the conceptual strengths of the SF mode.

4. Anarchism

Now let’s talk about anarchism. Anarchism seems to keep its allure through thick and thin, being the Gordian Knot answer to all political questions: how about no government and no laws, just citizens making mutual agreements? Eric Frank Russell seems to think that that could work. But his ”And Then There Were None” (1951) depends entirely on its other-worldly setting, the action taking place on a future space colony. Russell stages his anarchist utopia without common limitations such as ethnicity, traditions and scaricity of resources so it gets rather artificial. That said the story is rather witty and elegant in itself.

Another work of short fiction dealing with anarchy is Larry Niven’s ”Cloak of Anarchy” (1972). Here we have a future Los Angeles with the freeways turned into parks – free parks – since cars as we know them have been replaced by soaring vessels, hovering craft of the today generic SF type. Niven's enclosed parks with entry fees are a social experiment with some hippie connotations, their only prevailing rule being ”no violence”. The parks are supervised by soaring cameras called copseyes; at the sight of any violence the police can arrive and uphold the law. The park’s visitors practise micro-level anarchy like preaching for dumbass religions, wearing outrageous costumes or just hanging out, an anarchy that can exist as long as there’s macro-level, state-executed violence to safeguard it.

So this small-scale utopia is rather silly and harmless but let’s go with it for the sake of the narrative. Because, as the story unwinds, some day at L. A.:s King’s Free Park some genius takes down all the copseyes, as if on cue: they all drop to the ground thanks to the clever guy’s hacking abilities. So what does that turn the park into? Hell. With no restraint, no threat of public interference the fabric of civility cracks. Among other things some heavies post guard around the drinking water fountain, only letting selected people come for a drink. The queues line up. And this is a perfect picture of what a collapsing society would mean: scarcity of necessities, violence, unsecurity. In time the copseyes come up again and everything reverts to normal but the central charachters have a scary night behind them, depriving them of what delusions of anarchy they might have had. ”Anarchy isn’t stable” is Niven’s terse conclusion and I can go with that.

5. Jünger

Like Larry Niven Ernst Jünger is sceptical about the common view of anarchism, giving eternal bliss to everybody as soon as it’s installed, but Jünger doesn’t discard anarchism altogether. In ”Eumeswil” (1977) he redefines it in the role of the Anarch, being an antipole to the ruler but not bent on destroying him, just content with watching him and be near him to extract some metaphysical essence of history and grandeur. In doing this the anarch can be free; he doesn't want to change society since he has mentally seceeded from it.

The narrator in Jünger's novel alternates his duties between the university and the casbah, the seat of power. Here he tends the nightbar listening in on the governing clique’s discussions in this post-war, post-debacle future. ”Eumeswil” is a rich novel, echoing Jünger’s other utopian/dystopian works like ”Heliopolis” (1949) and ”On the Marble Cliffs” (1939). Here however I'll focus on some subjects in ”Eumeswil” relevant for current debates:
. Precious metals: ”The powers that be always rob the common man of his gold.” All throughout history those in power have robbed the people of their gold, either by diminishing the gold content of coins or by issuing paper money. The standard investing advice of 2011 seems to be buying gold as a hedge against a crashing dollar and there’s a rebellious trait to this, in the common man exchanging dollars for gold and storing it in his private cache.

. Survivalism: what to do if there’s an upheaval, an interregnum? The narrator concludes that the best is to furnish a dug-out in the woods to use as a safe heaven. This is like a miniature of the mega-crisis we face today. ”Stock up on food, water, ammunition...”: we all read that on the internet today but Jünger was way ahead of these preppers.

. Spiritual values: We can’t do without myths, legends, dreams. Having food on the table isn’t enough. Many prophets have said that throughout history so having Jünger propagating the same isn’t original in itself, but since no one listened last time it has to be said again and again.

More on Jünger here.


I’ve taken you through a survey of the more controversial works of SF. We’ve seen some classics and some old books, so how about the new ones? Well, looking at more contemporary controversial SF you could mention titles like Randolph D. Calverhall’s ”Serpent’s Walk” (1991, with post-1945 underground Nazis coming to the fore again with economic and metapolitical means) and William Pierce’s ”The Turner Diaries” (1978), about a white nationalist going guerilla. A precursor of sorts to Breivik...?

As for modern dystopias we have for instance Scott Wilson’s ”Utopia X” (2004). Here the America of 2048 is ruled by a totalitarian goverment disguised as a tolerant, anti-racist democracy. And so, with mind control and the outlawing of ”insensitivity” and freedom of speech the stage is set for a modern ”1984”, only here there’s a ray of hope in the form of a guerilla movement that begins to take shape, intent to defend liberty and freedom for all. More complex is Alex Kurtagic’s ”Mister” (2009) with a sombre future characterized by political correctness, corruption, crime and globalism; the book has been lauded for its avant-garde style, erudition and humour. And finally, as for the more race oriented dystopias, there’s titles like Jean Raspail’s ”The Camp of the Saints” (1973), Ward Kendall’s ”Hold Back This Day” (2003) and Kyle Bristow’s ”White Apocalypse” (2010).

In other words, it’s clear that science fiction lends itself to hot topics and non-PC narratives, to more or less controversial political discussions. So artistically and philosophically speaking the future looks bright; there are still stories to be told and issues to be debated in future settings. We might live in a politically correct dictatorship of sorts but the perceived censorship can be dodged by telling futuristic, other-worldly stories with a rightist slant.

The Infantryman of the Future
Why I Hate "Avatar"

söndag 28 augusti 2011

God Listens

Mother Teresa once got the question: When you pray to the Lord, what do you say?

- Nothing, I just listen.

- And what does He say?

- Nothing, He just listens...

I Wanna Be Seen Green
Sword and Staff