The situation has evolved radically.
It should first be stated the foundations of Traditionalist contempt for Democracy. To the Traditionalist — who is necessarily a Realist, as Mister Dugin defines in The Great Awakening vs the Great Reset — people come in sorts, or said otherwise, people come with natural and innate aptitudes and proclivities. For the vast majority, these needs are simplistic despite what they perceive as ambitions, which in reality are usually envies. The many want many things, but they are sustained off their bread and circus, which we can extrapolate to understand as the essentials of security, consistency, and as much recreation as they can be afforded, for to the many in the Iron Age, the only meaningful gain is the material gain. Capitalism has taught them this lie, and the television reinforces it.
With this understanding, you can then begin to appreciate what a cruel and unusual burden Democracy is on the masses. Setting aside all the systemic corruptions for a moment, consider the common Westerner today: he is totally detached from any meaningful religious devotion and spirituality itself. If he reads recreationally, it is usually articles on the latest ball games, or whatever low-brow punditry he allows to dictate his opinions. He feels a conflicting longing both to stand out like an Olympian hero, but also to blend seamlessly into the herd. He is reactive as a rule, enslaved by his emotions, enthralled by pornography and warped humor. His admitted flaws almost always come with excuses: he is fat because of his “big bones” or thyroid, he has no productive pursuits because he is “busy,” he is divorced because of something the wife did, and he fails because others imposed insurmountable odds.
Of course, the last excuse is usually the only valid one, for herein lies the malice of Democracy: The system insists common people, who are helplessly tossed about by external stimuli, make sound decisions not only for themselves, not even just for their community, but for their entire country and Western civilization itself, founded on some idealistic theory of an inalienable right to share in the mastery of their nation granted no longer by the peculiar agency of Abraham’s God, but now on the sheer virtue of existing as a human being. And if only the cruelty ended there! For the masses are constantly preyed upon by hyenas whose hearts are set upon only themselves, using the false god of Capital as their great vindicator, their differentiator, their dark errancy. To vote for the man in blue is to kill yourself, the hyenas cackle, while the man in red will have your daughter taken! Night and day are the helpless many bombarded with dread and fear, forced to endure an emotional rollercoaster and compelled to participate in a system they are fundamentally incapable of soundly withstanding — and all of this presumes their votes are even tallied correctly!
Of course, it is not the common people, only their abusers, that deserve our enmity; for generally, the many do the best they can and deserve a persistent degree of compassion and understanding. All the same, one can surely see how easy it is for a Platonist, we who believe in an absolute Oneness, emanating in a Divine, cosmic hierarchy, with the blood of Master Socrates himself on the hands of Democracy, to regard the notion as a horrid degeneration of societal ordering.
Why, then, do I now assert we should vote for Donald Trump in this Galilean year of 2024? It is for no love of the man himself; Donald Trump has demonstrated no actual enlightenment or even erudition. Probably comprised of the inner copper, that is to say the caste of administrators; he has provided no indicator of being the next Sun King; he is boisterous, belligerent, overconfident, whimsical, and an avowed son of Liberalism, merely the romanticized classical sort rather than the Woke Globalists on the other team. The failures of his first term are unreasonably dismissed: he did anything but “drain the swamp.” The Washington establishment played him like a fiddle. He invested entirely too much power and influence in his daughter and son-in-law, while capable men like Steve Bannon were disposed. Hillary Clinton was not indicted, no mighty wall was built, no mass deportations occurred, the spy agencies were not curtailed, and he empowered the sinister Fauci to peddle a deadly vaccine to a virus he himself commissioned.
However, two days before this writing, Donald Trump narrowly survived an assassination attempt. Contrary to patriotic assertions, I do not believe he meant to “take a bullet for America,” but rather, he took a bullet for what the Woke perceive him to represent: every single person that does not comply with their agenda, from classical Liberals to Neo-Nazis to Traditionalists to uncooperative Marxists to “trans-exclusionary, radical Feminists” and everything in-between. He was shot as the Egregor of Resistance to the Liberal World Order that seeks to erase all forms of identity and belonging, reducing all the world to a sludge of laborers oppressed by an aggressive security state serving a malevolent few. It may be that the violent, near-death experience has unwittingly Initiated the former President into a higher state of spiritual being, though this remains to be seen, but what is certain is Trump’s inner fire; his first instinct was to rise, raise his fist in defiance, and urge his devoted supporters to Fight! Fight! Fight!
And so I encourage my fellow Traditionalists to appreciate, this one time at least, the democratic fight is ours too, for the Tiger in his death-throes has meant to reach over his shoulder and strike us dead, to decapitate what the infernal beast perceives to be our head. We know better! But now we, on the mere hope Donald Trump has been Initiated, out of respect for his fervent opposition to the Liberal Order, for the sheer joy of spiting the Tiger, with the possibility of our fellow Traditionalists landing positions in the West Wing, and on the unlikely chance our voices matter insofar as the tallying has any integrity whatsoever, should prepare to perform the Sudra Shuffle with everyone else on some chilly November morning later this year. There will be no disgrace or shame in participation this time, not under these extraordinary circumstances in this late hour, as we endure the Iron Age on Earth while our spirits seek King Helius in Heaven.
