A huge factor the differentiates the reactionary from the modern man is his internal disposition. In my time in college, and now the working world one of the most notable features of modern man is his spite and joylessness. One of the angriest, must unsatisfied people I work with is a gender studies major and feminist. Its interesting to see how people such as the feminists, the homosexuals, and all the revolutionaries are never joyful no matter how many cultural and political victories they win. They consistently are in a state of hatred. This is interesting to me due to the fact that as a reactionary my entire worldview, principles and beliefs are in radical opposition to almost every aspect of modern culture and society. Yet, I am still able to find joy, smile and make others laugh. Am I tempted by despair at times? Of course. But my internal disposition, or at least the disposition I work toward (I am by no means where I intend to be yet), is much different from that of the revolutionary.
The reactionary man attempts to harness the spirit of tradition. He seeks to build within himself discipline and duty. His goal is to cultivate a life of nobility, honor, and virtue. Because the reactionary rightfully understands that these things are necessary not only to transcend the darkness around him but also to lay a foundation for those who come after him. The biggest difference between the traditional man and the revolutionary man is “creation opposed to destruction”. The revolutionary destroys, he tears all things down in an ever growing hunger to consume all around him. This is what makes him so joyless. His disposition is not about seeking out virtue or devotion to the divine. He laughs at notions of discipline and duty, instead only seeking pleasure and vain attempts to eliminate what he sees as chains that bind him to higher authority. The revolutionary is consistently at war with not only his own nature, but that nature of divinity and reality. He must destroy, because there is always something that is holding him back from becoming completely free, in his mind. On the other hand the reactionary is able to find joy because he lives for meaning outside of himself. He understand his nature is fallen, he understands the notion of hierarchy and most importantly he understand that he must answer to a power far greater then his own will. He seeks to create within himself the proper order in an attempt to align himself on the correct path. Instead of destroying his chains he embraces them. He embraces the chains of morality, duty and discipline which consequently frees him from the truest from of slavery, that of self. He is able to find joy knowing that even if the world falls further into destruction, victory will be had in the end.
Although the life of the reactionary in this modern world is difficult it is important to live. I’ve said it many times before and I will continue to drill it into your head. You must cultivate within yourself the virtues, truths and discipline that you want to see flourish. Unlike the revolutionary who destroys to get his way, the reactionary must cultivate. He is a gardner. He does not seek to destroy tradition but seeks to live it. And in a time where it is absent, he seeks to rejuvenate it.
“A society grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they know they shall never sit in.” -Greek Proverb
This is not to say he cannot, when necessary, take up the sword and fight when he must. But what the reactionary seeks to destroy is not truth, but the cancer that grows on the truth. However, before one seeks to change the culture around him, one must first cultivate the proper order within himself. Restoration must be placed on a sound foundation.
“Acta non verba” my friends. Deeds not words.
I shall leave you with this…
“The ones who truly love their traditions don’t take them too seriously. They march to get their heads shot off with a joke on their lips. And the reason is that they know they’re going to die for something intangible, something sprung from their fancy, half humor, half humbug. Or perhaps it’s a little more subtle. Perhaps hidden away in their fancy is that pride of the blueblood, who refuses to look foolish by fighting for an idea, and so he cloaks it with bugle calls that tug at the heart, with empty mottoes and useless gold trim, and allows himself the supreme delight of giving his life for an utter masquerade. That’s something the Left has never understood, and that’s why its contempt is so heavy with hate. When it spits on the flag, or tries to piss out the eternal flame, when it hoots at the old farts loping by in their berets, or yells “Women’s Lib!” outside the church, at an old-fashioned wedding (to cite just some basic examples), it does so in such a grim, serious manner — like such “pompous assholes,” as the Left would put it, if only it could judge. The true Right is never so grim. That’s why the Left hates its guts, the way a hangman must hate the victim who laughs and jokes on his way to the gallows. The Left is a conflagration. It devours and consumes in deadly dull earnest. (Even its revels, appearances notwithstanding, are as grisly an affair as one of those puppet parades out of Peking or Nuremberg.)The Right is different. It’s a flickering flame, a will-o’-the-wisp in the petrified forest, flitting through the darkness…”
The Camp of the Saints, Jean Raspail (1925–)