148. Biting through (V)
The decadent lawyers will waddle from their offices, faces still dappled with grease, to be cut down in the streets by sinewy barbarians. The whiny sons of the upper classes will be put to work in the fields—forgetting their complaints about “white supremacy” under the overseer’s lash—and, perhaps, finding a measure of rebirth in the hard times that have come. At the most extreme, the collapse will be something like Cormac McCarthy’s The Road (2006), the end of all human survival systems; a genuine end to the Kali Yuga, a time of ashes where every tree has died. Man must live on tinned meats and human flesh. The only redemption to be found is a new Eden, a complete new beginning; nothing that resembles civilisation can be reconstructed.
These scenarios are possible, but, being dramatic, draw attention away from the more usual silent collapse. Contemporary Britain, for example, is a collapsed society; she collapsed after the Second World War. This is why, in part, Britain is the butt of many right-wing jokes; yet, if you speak to the average member of the British middle class, most would say that the country is not in a state of collapse; it is not, after all, like Somalia—except in those districts of the big cities that are Somali. This is illusion; for people living in Britain are truly men living among the ruins, and those who are not prepared to accept this fact will never find redemption.
The nature of the British collapse can be compared to Rome: the Western Empire did not simply stop functioning at some point, hurling the populace into a McCarthyesque struggle for survival. On the contrary, barbarians raided Rome repeatedly and then…left. The barbarian was mobile; he was a Steppe raider, he had no use for cities. The barbarians would take a city—murder, loot, and rape—and then settle down to enjoy the excellent restaurants and baths. However, they would tire of these luxuries and, eventually, leave.
I mention restaurants in particular because it is a cliché that liberals, when asked about the benefits of multiracialism, will often cite the excellent restaurants it brings. Civilised places—empires—draw in the expertise, including culinary expertise, of the world and become places of great luxury.
So what, in this sense, is a collapse? It is not military defeat. Rome was defeated many times before she became a great empire; such defeats did not mean “the end of Rome”. No, the collapse came when the root failed; so long as there was a core of noble families, tied together by rites, the entity that was Rome could suffer defeat: she was down—she was not out, she would stand up again. At the end of Rome—beyond her end—there was luxury, money, and functional services; but the aristocratic blood had diluted away—anyone could be a Roman—and the centuries of rites had been abolished in favour of Christianity. There was no vir, no masculinity, from which to rebuild; the masculine attitude being embodied in the form of the warrior and the warrior-priest (the emperor). This is real collapse, not simply catastrophe. Indeed, a collapse, as in the case of Rome, may be welcome as a relief from onerous taxation; when the last vestiges of the empire collapsed, provincials were relieved that they no longer paid exorbitant taxes to an administrative unit that did little to protect them.
Britain long ago disposed of her aristocratic guardians—the Norman shepherds have vanished—at first the Anglo-Saxon merchant sheep frolicked, but now the wolves are in the pen and they are being eaten up. As Britain pulls down the statues of her heroes she—as the Romans scorned the old rites and adopted Christianity—destroys her final resources for renewal: no blood aristocracy; no religion, except female sentimentality (Christianity-“the woke”); and none of the rites that sustained the country. The food is, however, still very sweet—decay, the afterbirth of death, is always sweet.