War is the force and the red sun that restores the vigour of peoples. Without it, there would be neither friendship nor love, no dynamism, no creativity, no collective emotions, and no meaning to the lives of peoples and men.
The Right of Tomorrow needs a Metaphysics of Death.
As men, we are born as both spirit and matter, and to become who we are, we must know and fulfill them both. We must know that our life has sprung from the ever-flowing spring of the Sky Father above, and that we must make the breath he has given us into the unshakeable axis of our own life. But we must also know that he has chosen to tread down, that he has chosen to form a world out of the abyss of death, and that we, as his children of this world, must too choose to face this great maw below us. We must know what to do the day Death finally tears down everything we have built, when every struggle finally reaches its end, and when the flickering and insignificant spark of our lives is darkened forever.
For Death is the ultimate essence of all matter, and thus no act or manifestation of Life will be complete, unless it reaches an absolute relation with the Death it acts upon. And this absolute relation is only found in an infinite and unwavering love of Death. For it is only a violent and unrestrained love which can describe the absurdity, that the Father above has chosen to fall and fill the abyss of Death with his own Life, chosen to let his spirit live through our flesh. And if we want to be like him, we too must know how to throw our Life into the abyss of Death, as we too must love the world below us, and wish to bring it Truth and Order through our sacrifice.
Thus the Right of Tomorrow needs a Metaphysics of Death, a Doctrine of Death, and most importantly, at the deepest roots of our hearts, a great Love of Death, violent enough to make God himself proud. Our will must be as straight and firm as the iron barrel of an artillery piece, our falling bodies must be as tough and terrible as the whistling shell, and when we fall from the skies above, our joy must shine as the final rays of the sun do, when they dance along the edge of the projectile. And when we strike the depth of Death’s womb, we’ll spell the word of God with mud and blood.
Death is the ultimate essence of all matter, and thus no act or manifestation of Life will be complete, unless it reaches an absolute relation with the Death it acts upon.
In search of such a love of Death, this essay will move up through three tiers of men, through three conceptions of Death. First is the profane man, he who fears death as he is nothing more than the pleasures and comforts of his life. Above him is the heroic man, he who has such a great love of Life, that he knows how to face death in a way worthy of Life’s glory. But at the top is the divine man, he who is capable of loving Death itself, and who by his own absolute will chooses to plunge towards her depths, in order to fill her with the light and glory of his own Life.
We should also mention briefly that there is a fourth class of men, namely those who fear life or the fate that life has given them. This includes those apathetic, weak and broken men who are not fit for the struggle of life, and thus choose to turn their backs on Life, either through suicide or by slowly withering away with time. But it also includes men who have done great and heroic deeds but, when fate changed her favour, could not bring themselves to face their defeat and see things through to the end.
It should be clear that this choice of death as an escape has nothing in common with the divine love of Death. For if the great Father out of love has chosen to carry the whole world of Death and matter upon his shoulders of Life, then we who want to be his true sons should at least be able to carry whatever Fate throws at our own life. No matter what pain, humiliation or shame we might face at the hand of our enemies, and no matter how great we fail with the mission we have set out to struggle for, we must never stop striving to manifest the undying Life which is at our core. Not because we fear Death, but because Death has no power over our Life, and our Life can never be fooled to escape towards Death’s seducing embrace. If we fail and are left to the dark claws of an angry mob, they cannot hurt us, if we know that our true selves are Life itself – on the contrary, they can only open more eyes in our flesh, from which the world can see the boiling gaze of our blood, and the glaring fire of God above.
1. The Men Who Fear Death
The fear of Death goes hand in hand with a denial of Life. And we can probably to a large extent trace the fall of Europe, her Traditions and her peoples back to the fact that the European man has chosen to forget both true Life and true Death.
Firstly, by denying true Life, one begins to fear Death. For when man denies his celestial origin, he reduces himself to a bundle of matter and as such, he becomes nothing more than his fleeting sensations and pleasures. He becomes something fully temporary, which will vanish with Death, and as such, Death has full lordship over him, and his life becomes a miserable serfdom under the mercy of Death. By denying Life man becomes empty, and this emptiness will be filled with fear, and no matter how much he hides himself in the numbing embrace of pleasure and comfort, can he never escape the fear that looms above his head.
Secondly, a fear of Death leads to a denial of a true Life. For a man which must always hold firm unto his own good and preservation can never stand firm when fate graces him with one of those glorious moments, in which Life must throw its stubborn love recklessly towards Death. He cannot burn with the flames of the sun, as he fears to become ash – indeed, he can’t even understand why anyone would want to burn like that, and thus he smugly hides himself in the earth, content with letting worms slowly gnaw the wood of his body into mushy dirt.
But he is only a weak and cowardly dog, and he can never live as gloriously and violently as those dogs who hunt and bite. He thinks that he is enjoying a free and worthy life, but in reality he is only living of the scraps of others prey, of the sinews and skin which the proud hunters would not eat. Yes, he who clings to life doesn’t even experience the true beauty and pleasure of the life which he loves so dear – for he has never known the taste of fresh and flowing blood.
The fear of Death leads to a denial of a true Life.
He is scared of the other dogs and their might, and thus he does all he can to scorn, shame and ridicule them. And the day will come when they get tired of him and leave him behind, or listen to him and become like him, or simply die some day out on the hunt, leaving him alone; and that day there will be hyenas at the edge of his flowery meadow, drooling to tear apart the weak and cowardly dog. Because he denied Life, he started to fear Death, and in fear of Death, he could not live; and as he couldn’t live, he couldn’t even protect himself against his own pathetic death.
It doesn’t take much to see that Europe of today has chosen the path of the cowardly dog, and that we too will be torn to pieces by hyenas, unless we once again affirm the holy Life at our core.
2. The Men Who Love Life
In this category, we find men who know themselves to be more than mirages of matter, who know within themselves an unfaltering spark of Life, and in their affirmation of this spark will stop at no danger or threat, and as such will meet a proud and heroic death.
But this category needs a division into one higher and lower tier – those who know Life proper as spirit, and those who affirm Life bravely, but still are mistaken at what their life actually is. As such, the second is situated far below the former, but still far above the profane man.
In this lower tier we can place Nietzsche’s overman, for while Nietzsche spoke some of the greatest and noblest affirmations ever heard, of a proud and violent life of constant self-overcoming, he still identified this life with a mere will to power. He didn’t have the insight, that this fire he felt burning within himself with an ever expanding light, was the breath of divine Eternity itself, and due to that he could never reach a love of true Life, nor a complete love of fate and Death. Those inspired by Nietzsche and his love of the overhuman life, like the Futurists and the Fascists, end up in this tier too.
In the lower tier, we also find the national or animistic men, as they think that Life’s source isn’t the spirit of the Father above, but the people or the race. They love this life, fight bravely for it, and they think that by continuing the existence of the people which birthed them, regardless of which sacrifice they must make, they have reached the greatest affirmation of Life. But it doesn’t take much to see how small and vanishing the life of the people is, as the people still is something situated in time and space. The people can never reach the true and infinite Life of the Father above, and thus the affirmation of life as the existence of the people is an affirmation of life improper.
The great fault of Christianity, that which hinders it from truly loving Death, is of course its idea of resurrection and an afterlife.
But it is also an inadequate affirmation of Death. For regardless of whether they think that they live on through a mere biological heritage, or through a full-blown reincarnation in later generations of the people, they try to escape Death through their children. So even if there have been many great and heroic national man, and there probably is many in the national Right of today who would gladly meet a proud death, they still remain gravely lost and incomplete.
In the higher tier, that is, among those men who know life proper and will do anything to affirm it, yet do not know how to love Death below, but only see Death as a test for Life, we find the heroic martyrs and crusaders of Christianity.
Of course there have been many profane men who called themselves Christians, and who only wanted to escape the Death which they feared through the promise of an afterlife in paradise, but the true, heroic Christian knew that he was the child of an absolute Father above, and as such would stop at nothing in the affirmation of the eternal Life at his core. Death could not touch him, not make him waver, for he knew that his true self was not the broken matter of his body, but the will and love of spirit above – in the eyes of the Christian, it was not Life that was temporary and vanishing, but Death. And when he died mangled as a martyr, or buried in sand as a nameless crusader of the Holy Land, he knew that he had become Life eternal.
But the great fault of Christianity, that which hinders it from truly loving Death, is of course its idea of resurrection and an afterlife – the fact that it only reaches upwards, back to the Father, and not also plunges downwards, to the realm of absolute Death, repeating the love and sacrifice God had shown the world on the cross. The Christians wanted to live by the Father, and not like him. But Christ himself was both the greatest affirmer of Life above, and he who had the greatest love of Death below, for he was the Father himself, and he had chosen to die for mankind, through the flesh of a single man.
3. The Men Who Love Death
We know that the Sky Father is the absolute and perfect origin of Life, and that the world of matter and Death below can add nothing to his glory – and thus we know that his love of Death must be infinite, as he still chose to create this world of Becoming, and let his spirit grace the struggle of our flesh. And thus the greatest men are those who manage to repeat this infinite love of Death, those who want nothing more than oblivion and annihilation as a reward for their struggle, for they are the only ones who repeat and realize the Life of the Father himself.
As mentioned earlier, Christ is probably the greatest example of such a man, as he showed the world that the Father above has chosen to unconditionally love the abyss of Death below him, and that the Father gladly chose a painful and humiliating death, helpless on the cross, if that could bring Life to the world of Death.
If we want an Aryan example of men who loved Death, we can look at ancient Greece. For there heroes lived and died who knew themselves to be of divine origin, who knew that they may have been birthed by a mother, but that their true core nevertheless was of the Olympian peaks above. They were the spirit of the sky made into flesh, but unlike the Christians, they did not want to return to an eternal life at the side of Zeus, nor even believed that they could. They knew that all that awaited them was the cruel Death which Fate had given them as men of flesh, and that they would amount to nothing more than sad and hollow ghosts of the underworld – yet they chose to struggle, chose to love Fate like no European man has loved thereafter.
And how they lived! How beautifully they threw their strong bodies against the barricades of Troy and of many other cities – how proudly they painted the sand with their own blood, how joyously they danced into the mangling hail of bronze spears, and how calmly their empty eyes then gazed, without seeing, at their Sky Father above. And what did they want in return, for having their lives disappear under the sun like this? Nothing!
But one should also note that while the ancient Greeks knew far better how to love Death than the Christians, Zeus himself is not as a complete Father as the Christian God. For unlike him, Zeus never made an ultimate sacrifice himself, never tread down to fill the abyss of Death with his own Life, but only upheld the world as an eternal lord above. One could say that Christians had a greater potential love of Death, but that the ancient Greeks had a greater actual love of Death.
But then what about Norse Paganism, where the whole pantheon of gods will tread down in Ragnarök, and sacrifice themselves for the renewal of the world? How do they compare to Christ and Christianity? While Ragnarök has the splendor and excitement of war and glory, it lacks the same depth and gravity of Christ’s death on the cross. For while Christ was the one and absolute Father above, the Norse pantheon has no true Father, but rather many incomplete and all-too-human deities. And while Christ was an actual, breathing man who walked the earth with human feet, the pagan gods are mystic creatures who warp in and out of this world, from some ghostly fairy-world of their own. Christ’s death was the death of absolute Spirit made into absolute Flesh, while the death of Odin is the death of something that is neither spirit, nor flesh, but a ghost in-between.
But this is is not the main problem of Ragnarök; for if Odin was just an incomplete Sky Father, his sacrifice would still be one of the greatest affirmations of Death, and Norse Paganism as a faith one of the absolute greatest. But Norse paganism was severely infected by an animistic cycle, unworthy of the Sky Father, and this defiles the sacrifice of Odin and the other gods in Ragnarök. For they have successors! They fight so that their sons can take their place after the war, and merely continue their reign again, continue their race. They are not Eternity, but rather a race of magic men, situated in time – very powerful and longelived men of course, but nevertheless men. And thus they don’t know of any absolute spirit above everything, but only of the improper life of their god-like race.
One could say that the Norse gods fight and die like we men must do, when we birth sons to repeat the struggle we love – but this is not how a God dies. And as such, the Norse gods add nothing to man, as they themselves are just like man, infinitely below the true Sky Father. And thus it is a love of the life of the race, and not a divine love of Death itself, which lies at the basis of the Norse death-cult. Death in itself was not sufficient for the Norseman, and he needed a reward for Death to tempt him. And by dying bravely, he got the honour of aiding Odin in Ragnarök, and of securing not only the continued existence of the gods’ race, but also his own.
Odin does not love the cycle of Death from above, but is stuck within it – the great and unconditioned Father does no longer grace Death with his Life, but has been swallowed by the great womb of animism, degrading what could have been one of the greatest and purest loves of Death into a mere love of the life of the the race. This of course explains why Norse Paganism is so popular among those today who only know how to love the improper life of the race – among those who can not see, and absolutely not repeat, the great love that the Sky Father has given to the abyss of Death.
As a final example, we could look at Buddhism, as the Buddhists too knew of the animistic cycle that is at the centre of Norse faith, but instead of only seeking to repeat it, knew that the true man had his source outside of it, and must break out of the cycle in order to reach who he actually is. The will to be as unconditioned and unmoved as the Nothingness from which everything sprung, and the radical ease with which the Buddhist shrugs away the whole world of matter, as if it was only a filthy cape someone had put on his noble shoulders – this might make Buddhism into the greatest and purest movement towards the Absolute, and as it is unburdened by the idea of an afterlife and resurrection, far more noble than the struggle of the Christian.
But even then, Buddhism still retains the main problem of Christianity. For Buddhism, like Christianity, still only seeks to break free of the world of matter and the cycle of Death, and does not know how to return, how to lovingly and defiantly give it repetition in spite of everything. Buddha did not return to the world of matter below in order to grace the cycle of struggle with the unconditioned Origin he had found, but only to teach other men the way out of the cycle, to liberate them. But as we have postulated, man must return and love the world of Death and matter below, must chain himself – for in the end, the mere existence of our world shows us that the absolute and all-mighty Father has chosen to live through the conditioned and the impure, and thus we must choose to do so too.
We are put onto this world as struggling and mortal men, struggling and mortal peoples, and as sure as we must fight this struggle, so must we also love the struggle for what it really is.
But there have been men who combined the upwards striving purity of Buddhism with a downward struggle, in blood and mud, for a people and a divine Empire. I am thinking of the Japanese warrior caste, and how they united the calm feeling of standing unmoved above the world of matter, with the cruel passion of war, and the love of Death itself. ‘The way of the warrior is death’, it has been said in Japan; and by recklessly and lovingly throwing themselves towards Death, the Japanese warrior both awakened from all dreams of matter, and manifested the glory and beauty of Eternity in the world of struggle. And he wished for nothing else but to die like this – to fall like a cherry blossom, trampled and forgotten in the mud of the battlefield. He knew no greater love than a cruel and meaningless death
And Japan held this Tradition – of how one carelessly and passionately throw away one’s life for no discernable good – alive together with their divine Emperor all the way up until the modern age. Maybe it was not as pure as it had once been, but it was at least alive, and that makes the Japanese struggle in the Second World War unique with respect to that of their European allies. Not in terms of its war effort, military power, heroism or sacrifice (for this all of them knew), but rather for the fact that while the Nazi only loved the life of his race, and the Fascist only loved the life of the overman and his will to power, the Imperial youth of Japan still knew how one loves Death itself.
And when those Japanese boys of the war’s final days crashed their planes and bodies into the American ships, what could be heard in the roaring flames of the collision was not defeat, but the bells of heaven itself, which through the hulls of broken warships tolled the Father’s farewell, to the last men of our world, who truly knew how to love Death.
I have now given some examples of what I believe to be the greatest and most divine love of Death that mankind has known. But one could argue endlessly which of the Traditions I have presented is actually the best. And one could surely tear this essay into pieces, and examine whether I have judged these different men and Traditions fairly or not, whether I have missed or ignored some crucial fact or not, and whether I have interpreted the words and teachings authentically, or just picked what suits my own preconceptions or fixations. But I do not care for such discussions – for the point of this text was not to squabble about some silly tier list of teachings and heroes, but to paint a concrete feeling of what it means, to have a divine love of Death.
The point of my examples was not to depict the Truth as it was in the past, but to lay a basis from which we can strive to find Truth again in Tomorrow – for all Traditions mentioned here are either too foreign for us Europeans, or since long dead. We cannot look backwards and argue over tombstones and empty dreams – rather we must know how to find the Father anew, and create a life in his image, all by ourselves. And in this direction, I have proposed a divine love of Death as a first concrete and fundamental step, and the examples used in this text have only been used for this purpose.
For I believe this great love of Death to be the essence of the Eternal Father above, and the essence of the world he has brought into existence, and if we are to fulfill ourselves in his image, we too must try to struggle and sacrifice ourselves with the same divine love. For we are put onto this world as struggling and mortal men, struggling and mortal peoples, and as sure as we must fight this struggle, so must we also love the struggle for what it really is – namely meaningless Death. But if we could love this Death and struggle in its naked worthlessness, love it with the unconditioned intensity of Eternal Life above, we would transform our hopeless Deaths into a manifestation of God himself, and the fulfillment of ourselves as living men.
And if we not only overcome our fear of Death, but become men with an infinite love of Death itself, then what could our enemies throw against us? What could they possibly scare or stop us with? We would know that they can not reach or hurt our true selves, that they cannot touch the divine Life that burns within our chest, and we would love the fate that has brought us into battle with them, love the Death that they think they threaten us with.
Yes, we would in our struggle with them find our completion as men, and we would lovingly return tenfold every strike they aim towards our sun-kissed foreheads. And if we in great glory win our battle, we would hail it with the greatest joy – but if fate instead would throw failure and dark annihilation upon us and everyone we hold dear, then we would still hail it with the same joy. For if we truly lived Life in the love of Death, we would be complete before the battle has even started – we would only pridefully see things through, joyously plunging ourselves straight into whatever fate Death has given us, defiantly and lovingly striking her depths with the Life of God himself.
We would know how one dies in the image of God, and by doing so, we would fulfill the life that God has given us.