Post-Anthropology

Author: Alexander Dugin

Translator: Jafe Arnold 

 

Human Society after the Crisis: Hell on Earth Through the Lens of Depth Sociology

 

Depth sociology 

A concrete (phenomenal) society always consists of two parts – the aboveground and underground. The aboveground part is what we normally term “society”, meaning a sphere of rational activity where logos (λόγος) prevails. This is the domain of the “diurnal”. The underground part is the dark, underwater island of the collective unconscious, the region of the social night (the “nocturne”), where myth (μύθος) rules.

For some time, progressivist science believed that these two parts were situated in diachronic order. In ancient times (and among “primitive” peoples, the unfortunate “residue” of ancient times), myth was predominant. But the progress of civilization gradually supplanted the mythological order and replaced it with an order based on logos. The community, or Gemeinschaft, is superseded by society, or Gesellschaft (F. Tönnies). But this optimistic exaltation did not last long. Whereas blind faith in purported progress reigned almost unquestionably in 18th-19th century Western Europe, the subconscious, where the eternal and unchanging laws of myth predominate, was discovered by the beginning of the 20th century. 

Jung’s works developed Freud’s theory and established a new topology of human psychology. Freud had already shown that in addition to the “I” (the “ego”), an invisible and repressed “It” (German “es”, Latin “id”) actively operates within man. Jung demonstrated that the foundation of this “It” is rooted in a special reality common to all people. The collective unconscious is one for all.

Jung’s follower, the French sociologist G. Durand, relying on the Jungean theory of the collective unconscious and its archetypes, complemented the psychoanalytic topology with a sociological one, thus laying the foundations for a “depth sociology” or “sociology of the imagination.” Thus, the second, underground part of society, at the heart of which lies myth, was discovered, studied, and imparted with description.

Ordinary sociologists such as Weber, Sombart, Durkheim, Moss, Sorokin and so on, more often described aboveground, diurnal society and its properties, i.e., the social logos. Depth sociologists, on the other hand, such as G. Durand or M. Maffessoli, engaged in the exploration of social myths, elaborating a kind of sociology of myth.

The study of the interconnectedness between the two main levels of this topology, i.e., between logos and myth, buried the concept of rationality and the notion of “progress” at the very first stage. According to G. Durand, it turns out that the latter are nothing other than a rationalization of the myth of Prometheus. The next step was the discovery that Logos itself, as the axial destiny of Western European culture (from Plato through Descartes to positivism) was but a special edition of myth (an “ascendental myth” in G. Bachelard’s theory or the “diurnal regime”, “le diurne” in Durand’s theory). This is the discovery of deep sociology (the sociology of the imagination) based on the structuralism of C. Levi-Strauss, the history of religion (H. Corbin, M. Eliade), psychoanalysis (C.G. Jung), reflexology (M.Bekhterev), modern physics and mathematics (R.Tohm, V.Pauli etc.). This opened a completely different view of the essence, content, meaning, nature and quality of social processes. Classical sociology, which had detected numerous failures of logos in society (for example, the principle of “heterotelie” – a sociological law that states that social processes almost always attain goals other than those they set to begin with, thus overturning the cause-and-effect logic in which the founding fathers of sociology – the positivists Kant and Durkheim – so firmly believed) came through deep sociology to form a consistent and semantically complete system. The enormous methodological and documentary material accumulated by the classical sociologists thus started to be interpreted in an entirely new way.

Thus, by the end of the 20th century, a “two-dimensional sociology” was established in which research on the social logos was paralleled by studies of the “social underground”  (“social dungeon”) and “social myth.” In other words, the “social unconscious” was discovered.

Social logos

By his profession, a sociologist is called to look beyond “public opinion”, “common ideas”, and “common sense”, i.e., those beliefs and ideas that circulate among the masses in their “majority” and constitute the framework of “conventional wisdom”. “Public opinion” never reflects the whole picture. Its natural place is situated in the space between scientific truth and that which is a pure chimera, or nothing. Even Plato, in his The Republic, defined “opinion” (δόξα) as showing us something while at the same time hiding something else from us, in all cases revealing to us not that which lies on the surface of conveying, but somewhere else, thus always deceiving us. More straightforward American experts on financial speculation and stock markets have formulated the same law in rougher terms: “the majority is always wrong”.

In analyzing “opinion”, sociologists derive from such the half-manifested and half-hidden truth, and thus explain the mechanism and, in turn, semantic structure of lies (silence, euphemisms, projections, transposition, and other rhetorical tropes). It is thus the sum of extracted scientific truths, clarifications, and etiologies of misconceptions and lies – the content of the social logos – that constitutes the object of classical sociology.

The pessimism of the classical sociologists: Logos on the brink of catastrophe

The majority of the classical sociologists’ major reconstructions (“grand theories”) were marked by the disturbing nature of social processes in the 20th century. The very idea of “progress”, which has become something taken for granted in “public opinion”, was at a certain moment recognized to be a euphemism designed to brighten up premonitions of impending disaster.

Most sociologists, and Pitirim Sorokin in particular, unanimously emphasized the hedonistic, material, sensual, and sensate nature of modern Western civilization, and this quality affected the “social logos” all the more profoundly over the course of the 20th century. Material values, entailing an “obsession with economics”, the search for egoistic, material freedom and pleasure, came to the forefront and undermined, eroded the structure of society’s rational organization. Almost all sociologists predicted in one way or another that the social logos of the West and all of world civilization having come under decisive Western influence, threatens disaster.

This feeling especially intensified in the postmodern era, when many began to speak of the “society of the spectacle” (G. Debord), the “order of simulacra” (J. Baudrillard), or the “end of history” (F. Fukuyama). Indeed, Fukuyama spoke of a “society of gaps”, increasing “fragmentation of social ties”, etc. The social logos had disintegrated in front of our very own eyes, transforming into something else ascertained only with great difficulty and demanding new sociological methods for understanding and explaining it.

Some, such as Castells, have timidly suggested that logos does not die, but moves on to a new form of existence as a network. But this did not and does not sound very convincing. In any case, starting at the end of the 20th century, classical society stood at the threshold of, as the optimists say, a fundamental, qualitative metamorphosis or, as the pessimists (such as Spengler) suspected, collapse.

The social moment through the eyes of depth sociologists: Slipping into the night 

Even more alerted by the exhaustion of modernity are depth sociologists, who have in principle believed that reassessing logos in view of myth amounts to a disaster, which by definition and from the very onset is fraught with collapse and colossal inflation of the logos. Being no opponents of logos, they merely point out that the gigantic endeavor of reassessing one half of society (the diurnal half) is fraught with the possibility of rapid regression and falling into the opposite extreme, the regions of the unconscious, with no easing up or intermediate stages. They rightly considered the European totalitarianisms of the 20th century to be such a rapid drop towards myth, i..e, the Nazi regime (with its “Myth of the 20th Century” which, admittedly, is rather a pale and pitiful parody of myth itself) and the USSR with its chiliastic attempt at building a “paradise on earth” (the diachronic-trinitarian myth of Joachim de Flora skipped over by Hegel, and specifically Russian, cultic messianism).

But the inflation of logos did not cease with the victory over fascism or following the end of communism. In the 1990’s arose the temporary illusion that the social logos had at last found its final incarnation in the liberal-democratic American paradigm (hence globalism and the “end of history”) which would last forever (as the American neocons tried to inaugurate with the “Project for a New American Century” and theories of “benevolent hegemony” and “benevolent empire”). In the 2000’s, all of this became increasingly doubtful. When the financial crisis of 2008 hit and the black Democrat Barack Obama came to power in the US, it became clear that the preceding round was not the establishment of a “new world order”, but the final agony of the Western-centric logos.

From the standpoint of depth sociologists, the point at hand was the collision of two myths that had acted for three centuries in the “dungeon” of Western European societies (and those that came under their influence).

The modern era and the Enlightenment reflected the rise of the myth of Prometheus, who inspired both the rationalists and romantics, the people of day and the poets of night. The titan, trickster, deceiver of the gods (night), Prometheus, acting as Faust and Lucifer, brings people fire and knowledge (day). Schelling, Hugo, Hegel, Marx, and both liberals and socialists were inspired by the myth of Prometheus. Even in fascism, through the Nietzschean lens of the “Superman” and Wagnerianism, Prometheus found peculiar expression.

But with the end of the 19th century, Prometheus began to give way to the myth of Dionysus. Emanating from decadent salons, he penetrated culture and subsequently became the main myth of people engaged in media (and, as a rule, dropouts, drunks, perverts and drug addicts, as Durand aptly noted), cinema, and later television, intellectuals, and artists – typical people of  the night in practically all societies. Gradually imbued with the individualist-hedonistic style of “journalists”, inveterate skeptics, and the opponents of all rational organization (enemies of the social logos), society became a society of entertainment and enjoyment, the “society of the spectacle.”

Dionysus displaced Prometheus, the end of the whose myth is described in Andre Gide’s splendid, ironic book, Prometheus Ill-Bound. But Dionysus himself gradually lost his appeal, momentum, and energy as the decadent perversions of the elite, bearing something stylistically attractive, turned into the disgusting rot of the decaying masses sliding into the night. Plebeian gay parades turned the refined atmosphere of Oscar Wilde’s salons, the solar insanity of Arthur Rambo, and the poetic gesture of Kuzmin’s Apollon into plebeian kitsch (yet another instance of the significance of the expression “don’t throw pearls before swine”). The myth of Dionysus in turn reached the point of saturation and became one of the sources of freshness of the stagnant, stymphalian swamp.

The cycle of Western culture has come to an end. Postmodernity with its epiphenomena is a convincing illustration of this.

At any rate, depth sociologists are awaiting a new myth (perhaps they hope that this will be the balanced and integrative myth of Hermes – such as the Eranos group which included Jung, Eliade, Bachelard, Corbin, Dumezil, Scholem, and Durand), but they clearly understand that the European logos is about to finally slip off into the night. Frankly speaking, it seems to me rather doubtful that these wonderful people, these neo-Hermeticists, will manage to stop that which is falling, much less shift this fall…

Jung’s topology

The preceding observations were necessary in order to arrive at the main topic, i.e., our attempt at conceiving what awaits humanity once postmodernity finally comes into its own and the social logos finally perishes into the night of the myth. In other words, we are interested in reconstructing the picture of the impending sociological dimension taking into account those structural, semantic meanings which we (or not) must survive (or not). On the basis of a sociological reconstruction of classical and non-classical theories, we can construct different models of the future, basing ourselves on the psychoanalytical topology of Jung, who preoccupied himself with the fate of man and attempted to as impartially as possible describe the fullness of the human factor in its various dimensions at different stages. Before “painting” the “sociology of the Apocalypse” with “Jung’s paint”, let us recall the main parameters of his topology.

According to Jung, a human being is a complex system consisting of several poles, the main of which are “ego”, “persona”, “anima/animus”, “shadow”, and Selbst (“self”). Let us add Freud’s “superego” for the sake of completeness.

My “I” and my mask

Man is considered to be a rational individual who calls himself “I”. In psychoanalysis, this function is denoted by the Latin term “ego”, whose properties are intellect, capacity for mental operations, the possession of logical structures (or “proto-logical” ones like among so-called primitive tribes” and “savages”), capacity for self-reflection and clear separation of oneself (“ego”) from the outside world, “others”, and “the other.”

The generalized social logos is the collective projection of the “ego”, what Freud called the “superego” or “super-I.” The “ego” always correlates to the “superego”, which thus gives rise to a system of social norms and determines a large part of the being of “I.”

In regards to other social “I” and the aggregate social logos (superego), the ego acts as the persona, personality, or mask. A gap exists between the ego and personality which consists of the “ego” having another dimension, reversed into itself, which distinguishes it from the personality or “persona” through a fully exhaustive socio-logical function. The ego has a psyche, while a persona does not (such is carefully hidden and ignored). The psyche of the ego makes itself known only when a persona begins to behave or feel inappropriately within society or in the face of the superego given as a standard in morality and the rules of thinking (a mental disorder).

“I” usually appears to be alone as a result of the reflection of the logos on the physical separateness of the human body. But this is not necessary, Jung emphasizes. The deformation of logical structures, a lowering of mental level (abaissement du niveau mental) or simply dreaming can easily blur the singularity of “I”, its identity, and scatter into various fractions the “alter-ego.” In some instances of psychosis, this manifests itself through voices, through sight, or even through visions of one’s self. In some cases, several “egos” can form a fairly stable form of identity (such as in Stevenson’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde).

Jung’s “I” is not a constant once and for all, but is plural. Sometimes Jung speaks of the ego as one part of a complex psyche alongside other “complexes.”

The realm of the collective unconscious and Selbst

Within the “ego” begins the space of the psyche containing different layers, some close to the “ego” (such as memory, subjective assessment of actions, and “invasion” from below) and those further away from it, such as the unconscious.

Freud called the unconscious “es” or “id.” He himself restricted the unconscious to individual feelings and instincts formed as a rule during infancy and even in the prenatal period. In Jung’s famous dream of 1909 in which he travelled across the Atlantic by ship with his teacher, he saw that in the unconscious there is an even deeper level which ceases to be individual, and becomes collective. The realm of the collective unconscious is the center of Jung’s conceptualized topology.

The collective unconscious, according to Jung, is all the same for everyone and is inhabited by eternal myths and archetypes. This collective unconscious is explained by stable plots of certain dreams (great dreams), myths, stories, fairy tales, religious visions, and artistic works. The properly perceived, integrated, embraced, accepted, and sacredly exalted collective unconscious directed above to the light at the surface is what Jung terms Selbst or “self.”

Animus/anima and the dark double

Furthermore, between the ego and collective unconscious exist two of the main intermediate instances: the animus/anima (the soul that Jung divides by gender) and the “shadow” (umbra, die Schatten).

Animus/anima (like Balzac’s Seraphitus and Seraphita) is an image of the collective unconscious as it appears in pure form in the male or female ego.  Over the course of his research (including clinical studies), Jung noted that men steadily imagine the “unconscious” (“es” and “id”) as feminine (hence “anima”, the feminine soul), while women imagine such to be the male (hence “animus”, the masculine soul). In Russian, it would be tempting to use the cognate words dusha (“soul”) and dukh (“spirit”), but they have a steadily different meaning (although one could ask: do either of them have any meaning at all today?).

There is also the “shadow” representing the dark twin of the ego which consists of negative products of the dialogue between the ego and the collective unconscious. All that the diurnal mind represses, rules out, represses, pushes out, censors, and does not cognize in the impulses rising from the unconscious depths, makes up the “shadow”, shaping its structure and a kind of “anti-persona” (symmetrically opposite to a persona). The devil is the generalized form of the shadow.

Individuation as the realization of Selbst

Of great importance in Jung’s works is the subject of “individuation.” Individuation is the harmonious, balanced, incremental and measured transfer of the collective unconscious’ structures to the level of the logos. A correctly oriented human life is the realization of Selbst, i.e., individuation. Only in this case, the ego serves the purpose of letting what lies on the level of the myth out into the realm of logos.

Jung clarified the relationship between given instances in his topology, supplied nuances, explained details, and solved the puzzles of their dialectical relations. He delineated the dialectic of this structure in his patients and in works of art, religious doctrines, philosophical theories, famous biographies, and in the prejudices of average citizens. Practically all of his creative work was devoted to this end.

Sociology of the imagination

Applying Jung’s topology to society (with certain adjustments) yields depth sociology or the sociology of the imagination as developed mainly by R. Bastide and G. Durand. The social logos (Durkheim’s “public consciousness”) is the generalized ego (superego). At the other extreme is the collective unconscious (or social unconscious). Between them is the human ego facing society through its personality (persona) and facing the collective unconscious (the nighttime realm of myths) through its psyche and its figures (the anima, animus, and shadow).

Between the collective consciousness and collective unconscious exists a dynamic insofar as they resonate in certain issues and are homologous, while in some cases enter into discord and conflict. This is due to social kinetics (including mobility) and the deep content of social processes. The individual or human is a point in this complex two-stage dialectic of night and day, or diurne and nocturne.

Pitirim Sorokin’s tripartite model of social topology, which distinguishes between three types of societies and social structures (the ideational, idealistic, and sensual) on the grounds of a purely heuristic approach, is given firm ground in Durand’s three archetypal structures – the “heroic”, “cyclical”, and “mystical”, which are a direct mythological homologue to Sorokin’s sociological constructs. Durand’s school, the Center for Research on the Imaginary, has in the 50 years of its existence produced an enormous amount of hermeneutic work on “mytho-analyzing” sociological systems and the “mytho-criticism” of literary works or historical records.

Dreaming the world

Now on to the economic crisis. Above we said that it is highly probable that the current financial crisis is an expression of a much deeper process, i.e., the decline of the social logos blurred or saturated with sensual moments (a la Sorokin) or the Dionysian myth which has been overtaken by the osculating masses (a la Durand). In Jung’s system, this process can be seen as the “lowering of the mental level” (abaissement du niveau mental). Let us assume that the logical structures of the ego and superego were to crumble at a critical threshold – and this is highly likely if we take into account observations on Russian society, which has rapidly degraded in the intellectual and moral sense, as well as processes taking place in Western culture and politics. In this case, we should expect humanity to plunge head first into the night regime.

In Jungian topology, this means that we have descended into the collective unconscious. This is not simply nihilism. The very concept of nothing, or nihil, belongs to the order of logical structures capable of abstractly representing pure negativity in contrast to pure presence. But insofar as logic is eroded, the crystal-clear nothingness of logical nihilism appears to us not as empty, but filled with elusive meanings, inconsistent pictures, and cacophonesque sounds arranged disharmoniously. The nihilism of night is full of sounds, colors, and shapes, but only from the standpoint of the day. This is nothingness.

We will begin to see the critical points enumerated below in darkness. After all, there are always objects that are darker than others. It is at this point that we have arrived at the Jungian version of post-crisis futurology.

The social logos has fallen. Despite having successfully defeated all of its logical and ideological competitors (theocracy, monarchy, fascism, and communism), liberalism has not coped with the burden of the social logos, i.e., it is incapable of defending the order of the day all on its own against the night closing in on it from all sides and from within. The last such attempt was the American neocons’ imperial adventure. Meanwhile, the previous logoi are left hopelessly repudiated and distraught.

The diurnal character of liberalism is relative. Perhaps it won precisely because it offered the softest of all orders, the most unobtrusive logos, the most compromising and tolerant instrument of daytime repression of the nocturnal unconscious. But now it has perforce been left one-on-one in the face of chaos – the very same chaos which it relied upon earlier.

If the current economic crisis (for liberal civilization, economics is a substitute for order and logos) turns out to be the last, then a fundamental “lowering of the mental level of humanity” will take place. The world will be plunged into a dream.

Just what kind of dream will this be?

Post-anthropology’s new actors

The scrapping of the “ego” and “superego”, their overturning into the dark haze of psychosis, leads to the emergence of new actors in the forefront. These actors will be neither classes (as in communism) nor races (as in National-Socialism) nor even the individual (as in liberalism) – all of these social ideologies were founded on specific logical systems and, parallel to such, on rather distinguishable nocturnally structured myths. These actors will be the shapes of the unconscious left over from the epoch of the luminous domination of logos. This will be a post-logos order that will lead to the introduction of post-anthropology.

The main figures in the relationship between the ego and the unconscious will acquire autonomy and become the ego’s substitute. Humanity will hear “voices.”

The fact that modern man’s ego will become dynamic, plural, game-like, and random can already be seen everywhere – in the constant changing of professions, moving (the new nomadism), changing genders, nick-names, the appearance of doubles and clones (first in literature, films, and computer games, but tomorrow in practice). Such will become commonplace as life acquires more of an ironic, game-like nature. The cycle will shrink as families, partners, friends, countries, and occupations are changed with kaleidoscopic speed. People will change their gender all the more often, and sex-change operations will come to be more than a one time affair – one is a woman, has enough, becomes a man, then a woman again, and so on. But after a certain point – we will hardly notice it – the notion of individual identity itself will dissolve and the principle of freedom will corrode the “totalitarian shackles” of individuality. In the human atom separate components will be “discovered” – electrons, protons, quarks which will demand for themselves “new freedoms” (as the Belgian writer Jean Ray anticipated in his The Hand of Götz von Berlichingen.

And it is at this moment that we will face a series of very interesting phenomena and advents which will define the panorama of the post-anthropological landscape.

The coming of the shadow

The “shadow” will be one of the main actors of the “Jungian Apocalypse.” Fantasies of living shadows (in Anderson’s works and popular folklore) are a famous tale repeatedly surfacing in literature, theater, and opera. “Shadow” is a synonym for the devil, and we can say that this image coincides with the wide and varying descriptions of the Antichrist or the “coming of Satan.” Jung’s perspective differs from religious, theological views on this subject in that he examines the figure of the devil – in the spirit of Origen Adamantius’ “Apocatastasis” – as relatively negative. According to Jung, in the “shadow-devil” accumulates all that has been discarded by the ego over the course of unsuccessful individuation, i.e., over the course of the translation of the collective unconscious and its archetypes in the sphere of the logos. Thus, the devil is not independent or primordial, but merely symbolizes the totality of human failures and the results of friction with the “sueprego” which is in turn associated not so much with individual errors as with dissonance and the conflict of the social logos (including religious and moral aspects) with the mythological complex lying beneath the foundations of society. The shadow is failed Selbst. After all, the devil was once an angel of light who fell…

The shadow which will reveal itself in the near future should not necessarily be regarded as only the “devil” of the Christian religion. In social and psychoanalytic terms, this will simply be a ”residue”, some kind of surrogate of a disappearing “I”, and in the face of the undifferentiated collective unconscious, this figure will seem like “salvational straw” which, as it pertains to its identification, will be higher than the mythological chaos swimming down below. Therefore, for post-humanity the “shadow”, as an image preserved from the lost “ego”, will present itself as a kind of temptation. The shadow will not act as an enemy of humanity (especially since man will by this time give way to post-man). Rather, it will act as an enemy of the undifferentiated abyss of indistinguishable dreams.

What will this “shadow” be in its coming? This is difficult to imagine since the social landscape will change significantly. The collapse of the logos will not cancel science, or more precisely technology, hence the dissolution of the individual might very well be combined with the continuation of technological progress by inertia. Therefore, the shadow will come in the entourage of machines and devices. But it will not be a singular human being or group of beings. It will be something resembling a cloud, fog, a thinking nebula which can assume various identities, names, and types. These images will be somewhat vague, as if covered in fog. The shadow will hardly appear in the form of monsters, but rather in the form of memories and languid and dense dreams.

This is one pole.

Operation Alraune

Another figure of the Jungian Apocalypse will be the disincarnate female anima. This will not be a human female, but femininity in its collective, apparitional aspect.

Here it is worth dwelling on the idea of the anima in Jung’s works in more detail. Jung’s anima is not an image of a woman based on animal instinct or lustful observation of the female sex, and not even on genetic memory as Freudism and materialist psychology present such. It is the creation of a purely male ego which, through the anima, structures both itself and relations with the internal other (which is the same), proceeding to project this relation outwards on the other and itself now within the framework of form – this is woman in a social-gender sense.

The male ego does not know anything about the female ego, and does not want nor can it know nothing about it. It merely projects a living image, in which it is appealed to by the collective unconscious (“es”), onto the surrounding socio-biological matter. The internal anima and external woman are for the male ego (logos) strictly one and the same. The anima is primary and that which does not coincide with anime in a woman is either not noticed, rejected, censored, or hated by the male ego. All of this has been tracked by psychoanalysts in millions of examples.

If the male anima is drawn to the figure of the Melusine (the water-inhabiting fairy-fish-woman with a tail and no genitals), then a mismatch in external women in relation to this standard will be presented as their fault, and not as the fault of the image (in which, in fact, there is nothing pathological – after all, such is harmoniously and tightly woven into the sacred lexicon of great dreams).

Parallel research has been conducted by Levi-Strauss in studying the structure of kinship. In the myths of many American tribes as well as other peoples of Africa and Melanesia or, more broadly, the whole world, the theme of a “proper scale of marriage” is recurrent. In order to show what is correct, a myth shows what is incorrect. There are countless, stable motifs concerning marriage with animals (Masha and the bear  etc.), spirits, demons and angels (the Book of Enoch), objects, monsters, and so on. These are too distant of relationships, which means that the ego swung too far across the horizons of the unconscious and, as a rule, legends warn that nothing good comes out of this.

Too close of a kinship is represented by incest, a taboo which rests at the heart of all known social structures with only the rarest exceptions (such as Zoroastrianism which legalized and even proscribed incest; and in the practice of Jewish Sabbatist sects in Turkey – see M. Maffesoli). In relation to the anima, this means that the ego has come too close to the collective unconscious, which is fraught with dissolution or could in place of such introduce its own “egotistical” projections leading to sterility or the generation of monsters, i.e., to flowing into the realm of the shadow. The shadow is the totality of those taboos which man has been tempted to violate.

Herein arises a question: From where does the male ego come? Different sociologists, philosophers, and psychologists have offered different answers. The Marxist sociologist Bourdieu, for example, believes that gender is a purely social phenomenon, i.e., the ego is endowed with a male quality exclusively by society – the dictatorship of the “superego” – and in practice through education and the structuring of family relations. According to Bourdieu, if a boy is raised and treated as a girl, he will be a girl, and his ego and persona will be fully-fledged feminine in personality. On this is based contemporary “gender tolerance” and the Western interpretation of human rights, in which man (as the classic of liberalism, Locke, affirmed) is a tabula rasa upon which society writes all that it pleases. Marx also thought so.

In any case, it can be assumed that it is not the gender of a soul (anima-animus) that depends on whether the ego is male or female, but on the contrary – a soul’s gender via a converse logic determines the gender identity of the ego. Anima leads to the ego being masculine in order to make the process of individuation harmonious, i.e., its coming out into the light of the logos. Conversely, the animus extrapolates itself in the region of the logical through the feminine ego in order to exercise the whole, same individuation. Let us note that all of these considerations apply only to Jung’s theory, according to which a soul has a gender.

At any rate, comprehending the particular autonomy of the soul imbued with gender allows us to visualize the figure of Anima who will probably meet us over the course of the global financial crisis. This femininity “without women” or “apart from women” might very well appear through a series of archetypes which will either diachronically or synchronously manifest themselves in the form of giant female figures, dark, ugly and old women, fairies, Undine, nymphs, and salamanders, or in the form of female elements directly such as water and earth. The plastic fantasy of the decaying social logos yields technical or virtual forms. However, it is unimportant whether these figures of Anima will appear by means of malfunction in the process of cloning or as a result of the development of the visual illusions of the totalitarian screen. Most important in this is not the technology of the phenomenon of Anima, but its philosophical meaning. The social logos has in the last millennium been predominantly masculine. In decomposing, it will spill out the final female fantasy just as, according to legend, the seed dropped by the hanged man yields the mandragora or Alraune (see the wonderful novel by Hanns Heinz Ewers, Alraune).

When we think of femininity without women, we want to emphasize just how the anima is associated with the male ego, and this means that the post-anthropological pole of anima will likely be tied to disappearing men and their sinking “I” rather than women who, from the logical point of view, will be relegated to a specific existential niche. We shall now consider just what kind of niche this will be.

Animus

If anima is the product of the pure male ego, then animus is the product of the purely female. The man who constitutes the woman’s dream, i.e., the male form of “es”, has never existed and does not exist. This is not the male ego, but something quite different altogether. Prince charming, the noble knight, the hero – the woman gives birth to and populates culture with them. Woman created man. In the literal sense, she gave birth to him. Figuratively, she invented him. Man was thought up by woman in three forms – as the baby, the hero, and the wise old teacher. These are the three instances of the unconscious. Puer ludens, homunculus, Lilliputian, the playing and laughing child – these are intimations of the unconscious which the female ego is capable of embracing, understanding, and encompassing. The heroic husband is the unconscious in the form with which existential battle can be waged to stake their existence (since real men who would deserve this simply do not exist). Finally, the elderly teacher is the unconscious in the form of death which captures the dynamic of the female ego and freezes it into the ice of eternity. Such men live only in the psyche of the woman and from there appear in works of art. Talented feminized artists read the thin folds of women’s dreams and bring them into culture. And only from there, as patterns, do they assume their male ego, entirely different in structure and style, conforming to social norms, the dictatorship of the “superego” and maintain the status of persona. 

The weakening of the pressure of culture leads to men turning into what we see around us today from which the female ego recoils in disgust. These are today’s snotty, screaming babies, swine, filthy (in the best case), cowardly, and greedy men, and the old and rude who have accumulated over their whole lifetime only strife and bad habits. The social projections of the female spirit earlier weaved together images of heroic men and imposed such as the standard. When this work was weakened in a segment of the social logos for which female personalities were responsible in the era of patriarchy, then everything collapsed. Only strange and untidy beings of non-traditional orientations remain – freaks and geeks. Patriarchy was a product of the extrapolation of the female fantasy.

So who will Animus be without men?

This will be the figure of the final release of female energy, the solar hero, the “superman” – innocent like a child, cruel as a man, and wise as an elder. Feminine dialogue with the unconscious will yield the final volley of erotic energy in a flying, golden figure. It will be ephemeral and quickly dissolve since, given the absence of social order (on the surface of which the leftover residue will swim in the likes of traffic police, who will easily survive the disappearance of sense and logic in things), Animus will have nothing through which to secure its will to power. This will be the flash of the absolute dawn of metaphysical “fascism” which will show itself on the horizon only to melt away into the impending night in a flash.

However, who knows, perhaps even the momentary contemplation of the birth and disappearance of Animus will be a spectacle which, in an illusory manner, will satisfy great female expectations.

The Radical Subject

Yet another figure will have its place in the post-crisis (anti)utopia. This time, this personage is not from the arsenal of Jungian topology, but from the post-philosophical intuitions of “new metaphysics.” This is the Radical Subject described schematically in my books The Philosophy of TraditionalismPost-Philosophy, and The Radical Subject and its Double. While not being a Jungian figure, it can nevertheless be described in the terms of the “Jungian Apocalypse.”

The Radical Subject is the realization of the outburst of the collective unconscious’ archetypes into the light of day along a model differing from that of the social and cultural logos which dominated in the cycle of known human civilization. The Radical Subject is the alternative logos (or more precisely, the logos in potentiality bearing a number of logoi) which shares with the hitherto known logos its diurnal nature, but which belongs to the collective unconscious and mythological foundation of society (culture, civilization) in a different fashion. Compared to this, the genesis of the former (old) logos out of mythos was questionable in the very beginning, if not fatally wrong.

From the philosophical point of view, the theory closest to this model is Heidegger’s “Ereignis” which he developed from 1936 to 1944.

The Radical Subject is capable of individuation under any circumstances insofar as it operates with logos not as an actuality, but with logos as a potentiality, i.e., in the sphere which lies between the collective unconscious (mythos) and its concentration in the actuality of the logos – before this concentration becomes irreversible.

This is the dissolved logos, the proto-logos. The Radical Subject is the realization of Selbst in its unconditional form free of all circumstances, and the psyche does not participate in such realization since we are dealing (according to Jung and Otto) with the numinous horizons of the spirit in pure form beyond psychic waters, a kind of “dry path.”

The final composition

The writer Mamleev once wrote in the title of one of his stories: “We are ready for the Second Coming.” That is right.

What will be the combination of the poles of post-anthropology?

Theoretically, and following formal symmetries, there will be four dynamic post-identities that are relatively autonomous – the shadow, anima, animus, and the Radical Subject. It can be assumed that the “shadow-devil” will try to expand its field to the maximally available extent, i.e., against the anima, animus, and Radical Subject.

Just how the re-doubling of the Radical Subject will happen, i.e., the establishment of its diabolical simulacrum – I’ve tried to describe this in my book The Radical Subject and its Double in which with “double” we have in mind strictly that which Jung refers to as the “shadow”, only in the apocalyptic and sociological perspective which we are now examining – the shadow of the macrocosm, not micro-psychology. To summarize this book in a single phrase: distinguishing the Radical Subject from its double will be difficult, and in this lies the metaphysical nerve of the whole drama of the world (the world was created in the light of the telos of this final discernment).

The valence of the relationship between the shadow and Radical Subject will, among other things, lend the shadow a metaphysical value, and out of this inertial residue of the scattering logos will turn it into a “socially” significant figure. Here, incidentally, is quite pertinent the theological model of understanding the devil who, unlike Jung’s psychological pragmatism (and his reliance on the Gnostics) forms in relation to this character the proper proportions of reaction, fight, and flight (if at such a point anyone is still “making up their mind”, then by now their mind is not simply “not theirs”, but disappears altogether like smoke).

The golden Animus, taking off from the periphery of the female horizon in the glow of absolute (never former) fascism, will probably have no relation whatsoever to Anima or the shadow. To the shadow it is inaccessible for in it the female ego is liberated from itself, its own sin, its own shadow. The female ego is the shadow. But what, then, is the male ego? Perhaps just a misunderstanding? How the Radical Subject relates to the disincarnate Animus is not clear yet. And will it ever have any meaning for it?…

Now the shadow is definitely trying to seize the liquid Anima, include it in its structure, perhaps by the inertia of memory. As modern physics knows, even material substances have memory. The shadow will see the post-anthropological symmetry with its female ego disappearing into nowhere.

Yet another, fifth, element will be the background, which can only be described as the “return of the ancient gods” (Heidegger’s formula), the rise of the collective unconscious or hell in its etymological form, as the invisible (Hades) becomes visible (idea, form). In the absence of a repressing logos, all myths will rise up together without any diachronical control or any order (Ordnung). Christian consciousness can also safely relate to this as religion demands. In a moral, strictly religious sense, temptation should have no power or force over saved man if evil does not in one moment assume ambiguous features that form a spiritual and moral choice – for the discernment of spirits is a truly heroic challenge and great feat – and not taking itself for granted as socio-cultural banality. When evil comes in the guise of evil, it is not so difficult to reject. When it comes forth as something incomprehensible and overwhelming all at once, then taking a strict position is much more difficult. Everything spins and falls out of place, and it is impossible to distinguish one thing from the other. This is vigorous and effective evil.

Will this happen?

It necessarily will, since, on the one hand, such a scenario has in general terms been written down in the sacred texts of humanity, while on the other hand, modern sociology, cultural studies, philosophy, and analytical psychology have in their own languages and terminologies come to a more or less similar view. It certainly will, and precisely as it has been described. The question is when exactly?

Every failure in the history of civilization, every great war, natural disaster, bloody revolution, and mad cycle of cultural, political, social, economic, and technological development can potentially mean the collapse of the social logos, which has clearly and sufficiently long since achieved its saturation and passed through the main stages of its journey. The social logos has already “born, married, and died.” This had become obvious by the time of Nietzsche. Heidegger, Spengler, and in a wider sense most of Germany’s conservative revolutionaries in the 1920’s and ’30’s were living exclusively with the feeling of this end.

The Russian Revolution rode this very same wave, at least as poets, philosophers, and the artists of the Silver Age understood it (and they were the only ones to understand it correctly). The proposal that the proletariat recognize itself as a class identity (especially in the 1920’s), A. Planatov’s literature, and Klyuev, Blok, and Mayakovsky’s poetry had already anticipated the post-anthropological movement of disembodied, de-humanized energies. Blok’s Rus-Sofia is Anima. Klyuev described in detail the geography of the collective unconscious with the thoroughness of a German zoologist or surveyor. Mayakovsky created a poetic ontology of class beings. Platonov explained how being lives and works through the luminous communes, as his heroes eat the earth (like the character Chevengur who calls himself “God”), transform into Dostoevsky, and ravishly and voluptuously harm the reality of Rosa Luxemburg and the world revolution.

If we peer deeper into history, then what Rus lived through in the age of the schism and Europe during the Reformation can very well be attributed to the same category. The world ended, the social logos cracked and toppled, and out from underneath the rubble crawled the giant figures of the untamed subconscious.

There have been no few repetitions of the current crisis, and humanity is culturally ready for such. The swindling which we call “modernity” with its chimeras and emptiness will sooner or later end. Thus, everything will happen, happen soon, and happen precisely so. Sure, we have not described how, because we see everything as open and are preparing to participate.

And still there is the likelihood that this bursting bubble is not the last (or the next to last). Heidegger metaphysically pondered: “We live close to the point of midnight – no, it seems not yet – always the eternal ‘not yet’”…

But no matter how frustrated expectations for a quick outcome might be, this does not mean that there will never be an end. It might be delayed, but look around. Everything bears its signs. Perhaps it will be postponed once again, will blow over, and the scum will once again rejoice and stir, feeling that this time it is “still not yet…” We could allow for this, but then again, maybe it won’t be postponed. Even if it were, one must live – already today – as if it will not be postponed. And when we will truly live, fixed on the post-anthropological outcome, living within it itself and perhaps anticipating its events, then everything will happen .

It will, it necessarily will. 

 

© Jafe Arnold – All Rights Reserved. No reproduction without expressed permission. 

Mysteries of Eurasia: Continent Russia

Author: Alexander Dugin

Translator: Jafe Arnold

Chapter 1 of Mysteries of Eurasia (Moscow, Arktogeya: 1991/1999)

 ***

The country within

Land-masses hold symbolic meanings which are as much linked with cultural stereotypes as with real-life experiences. Europe holds different meanings for the European who lives there, for the American who originated from it, for the African who is freeing himself from its influence, for the Pacific islander, and so on. Stereotypes of the continents have not remained purely and simply products of cultures born of more or less accurate knowledge, more or less lively feelings and more or less clear awareness. They have sunk into the unconscious with so strong an emotional charge as will emerge in dreams or in spontaneous reactions, often linked with unconscious racism. At this point a continent will no longer represent one of the Earth’s five land-masses, but will symbolize a world of images, emotions and desires. For example, Dr Verne has clearly shown in the analysis of one of his patients’ dreams that she did not regard Asia as a memory of, goal of, or desire for intercontinental travel, but as a symbol of ‘the return to something holy, to the world of the absolute, the mystery of out of the body experience, the way towards the oneness which bears the message of the true and real’. Asia had become an inner continent, like Africa, Oceania, or Europe. These continents and what they symbolize will differ from person to person. This inner dimension may fasten upon any place, be it town or locality; what is important is to know what it means to each individual, what images, feelings, emotions, and prejudices it carries, since these comprise the subjective truth of the symbol. Geography generates as much geosociology and geoculture as it does geopolitics.”[1]

Such is the content of the entry “Continent” from the French Dictionary of Symbols by Jean Chevalier and Alain Gheerbrant. We have permitted ourselves to give such a long quotation in full since it immediately defines the plane upon which our study will unfold. Often amidst a rise of national feeling and even racism, and in flashes of patriotism among different peoples, irrational elements stand out on the surface which, at first glance, cannot be explained by logical reasoning or an analysis of egotistical motives behind such an ideological complex. The awakening of national, racial, or continental memory often occurs without any external reason. Deep archetypes of the unconscious simply and suddenly burst and, like a chain reaction, awaken the whole complex of a collective worldview that seemed to be long gone. Examples of this include the stability of Celtic-Irish, Jewish, Korean, African, and Japanese nationalisms which continue to live and grow despite all the social and historical preconditions objectively contributing to their extinction.

In principle, this is exactly the same case with the “enigma of Russian patriotism.” Mystical Russia, the “White India” of Klyuev, the “Holy Rus” which Yesenin set above Paradise and which Tyutchev equated to a religious principle in which one has to believe – imagine how absurd “Holy Australia” or “Faith in the Czech Republic” would sound! – is undoubtedly a deep reality of national psychology, an “Inner Continent” synthesizing in itself the worldview of a giant nation. The memory of “Continent Russia” may lurk and sleep in the depths of consciousness for many long years, but sooner or later it will come to life and, when the time of Awakening arrives, it will become a storm, a vortex, a scream.

However, the psychological reality of “Inner Russia,” in order to be effective and specified, should have an archetypal structure fully corresponding to objective historical processes and geographical areas. In this way, it is not merely a passive reflection of the external, but a paradigm which forms and structures the surrounding temporal and spatial space. In this regard, the famous historian of religions, Mircea Eliade, keenly observed: “Nature is something determined by culture (culturalmente condizionata); some of the ‘laws of nature’ vary depending on what the peoples of this or that culture understand by ‘nature.’”[2]

Russian Sweden

What is the archetypal structure of “Inner Russia?” On what is the concept of “Holy Rus” based? What are the origins of the complex of the imperial God-bearing people? We can find traces of this ancient tradition in the linguistic archetypes that date back to the formation of Indo-European unity and which, with remarkable resistance, are preserved in toponyms, myths, legends, and even in the ordinary correspondences between symbols and words. In addition, this entire complex of purely religious symbolism is closely linked with this ancient tradition. Otherwise, the baptism of Rus could not have happened so harmoniously and easily. The totality of Christian doctrine, in its ritualistic and symbolic paradigm, is consistent with the logic of older cults which were not abolished but transformed by Christianity into a new synthetic unity. The cycles of Russian lives and the specifics of Russian Orthodoxy present us with thousands of pieces of evidence of this. One canonical example of this is the summer festival of the prophet Elijah, who became the Orthodox expression of the old Aryan “god” of thunder, sky, and light, Il (from the same root of the ancient Russian word for “sun,”, solntse, which in old Aryan means “good light”).[3] Let us consider some aspects of the archetypal combinations which define the logic of the Russian national mentality. We will start with the concept of “Holy Rus.”

It is curious to note that evidently long before the arrival of the Slavs to the territory of Russia, the region of the Southern Russian steppes from the Black Sea to the south of the Urals was named by the Aryans inhabiting it “Dwelling of the Gods – Great Sweden” or “Cold Sweden,” and only much later did this shift with the Germanic tribes to Scandinavia, which became “Dwelling of people – Little Sweden.” The sacred rivers of the ancient Aryans flowed into this “Great Sweden”: the Don (Tanaquisl or Vanaquisl – “the branch of the river where the Vanir live”) and the Dnieper (Danapru or, in Greek, Borisphen). The very Russian word for Sweden, Shvetsiia – Sweden, Suetia – most likely meant “bright, white, luminous.” And this Indo-European root szet is possibly, and quite logically, etymologically similar to the Russian word for holy, svyaty. In addition, the Hindu tradition to this day still remembers Śveta-dvīpa, the “White Island” or “White Continent” lying to the North of India.

In most cases, Śveta-dvīpa meant the symbolic island of Vārāhī, the place where the Hindus’ ancestors originally resided at the North Pole. By analogy, it is appropriate to transfer this name to the territory of the temporary settlement of the Aryans before their migration to India. That the ancestors of the Hindus – the carriers of the Vedantic tradition in its earlier form – lived for a certain period of time on the territory of what is now Southern Russia is confirmed by modern archaeological excavations. Therefore, the light, white holy country was associated in ancient times with the Russian lands, a view which could take deep root in the consciousness of peoples, such as the Aryans, contact between whom was maintained even after their linguistic and traditional unity was destroyed, as well as other indigenous paleo-Asiatic peoples who on more than one occasion have demonstrated the unique capacity to preserve the mythological complexes which they received from the Indo-Europeans for entire millennia.

The second component of the combination of “Holy Rus” is the very name “Rus.” One of the most likely and acceptable etymological interpretations of this word is the Aryan root ros (compared with German rot, Latin russus, French rouge, English red, and Sanskrit rohita) which means red, ginger, or pink. It is entirely unimportant if Russia was named after a Slavic or Scandinavian tribe. The main point is that, on a subconscious level, red is closely associated with Russia, and was one of the favorite colors of the Russian princes, and the very Russian word krasny, besides denoting the color red, in the ancient Slavic language meant “beautiful”, “distinguished,” etc. It is also curious that another Russian word for designating the color red is chermny, which is etymologically close to the word cherny for black. In ancient Indian, the root krisna also meant “black” and “beautiful.” It cannot be ruled out that this etymological connection was somehow imprinted in language associations and in half-effaced semantic structures of linguistic thinking lending the meaning of the word red a kind of semi-conscious connection with the word black (i.e., “distinguished,” “clearly defined,” etc.). If we combine these two lines, then we see that the concept of “Holy Rus” might be translated into the colorful symbolic dyad: “white – red” or even “light – dark.” And, not incidentally, the combination of “white-red” was one of the most common among Russian princely heraldry, national costumes, ornaments, paintings, etc.

Khvarenah – Royal happiness

One of the most significant aspects of “Inner Russia” was the sacred mission of the Russian monarch. Holy Rus always had its sacred center. Just as it had its capital (first Kiev, then Moscow), it also had a living and personified pole of national sanctity: the Tsar, the Anointed by God. Interestingly enough, some of the Turkic peoples preserved the tradition of venerating the Russian monarch up into the 18th century. For example, the Buryats believed Catherine to be the incarnation (embodiment) of the White Tara, one of the greatest Bodhisattvas of Lamaism. Such  universal importance assigned to the monarchy within the framework of the Empire once again shows that Russia has never recognized itself to be something purely ethnic. By contrast, she is a reality of a higher level, a reality of the geosacred Tradition in which different peoples had their proper place. Therefore, the Russian White Tsar was simultaneously the Tsar of all ethnoi inhabiting the Empire.

The Russian monarchical tradition began, as is known, with the calling of Rurik from the Varangians to kingship over a group of Slavic and Finno-Ugric tribes. In the later period, descent from the first prince Rurik was the spiritual and genealogical justification of royal authority, its legitimacy and sacred legality. This tradition was so persistent and deep, so self-evident and absolute in Russians’ understanding, that it simply could not have been inconsistent with the indigenous archetypes of ancient forms of consciousness which, although moved into the sphere of the unconscious, nevertheless did not lose their efficiency and validity. In our opinion, the calling of Rurik from among the Varangians was seen as a great, nationwide mystery embodying in itself the script of the supernatural origin of royal power that is characteristic of all ancient, traditional dynasties.

Let us try to clarify the sacred underpinnings of this mystery which confirmed the sacred-dynastic center in the space of “Inner Russia.” First of all, we can refer to Zoroastrianism, in which the mystical side of royal power was elaborated in detail and had a significant impact on the structure of the consciousness of the peoples who have inhabited the ancient Russian lands. Zoroastrians believed that the emperor has a special, more than merely given, right to rule. This sanction is embodied in the possession of a light-bringing force – Khvarenah. Khvarenah (or farn) is a condensed light energy which renders a person equal to a god. The symbol of Khvarenah was traditionally believed to be the falcon Vargan and sometimes the ram. On the other hand, Khvarenah was identified with the element of fire, which only naturally strives upwards towards heaven. Every Iranian king had his own personal fire symbolizing the possession of Khvarenah.

If we return to Rurik, called from among the Varangians to kingship, we see that he etymologically embodies this entire complex of Zoroastrian ideas (and apparently, some common Aryan ones). Rurik, in Scandinavian, means “falcon,” that is, the predominant symbol of Khvarenah. In addition, the word rurik is startlingly close to the Old Church Slavonic rarog, i.e., “fire” or “spirit of fire” (in fact, the old Church Slavonic rarog also meant “falcon”). With the baptism of Rus, Tsar Rurik also became anointed by God, endowed with the power of Christ, and referred to as the “Lamb.” Thus, the idea of the Christian monarch was the spiritual development and sacred confirmation of the ancient monarchical tradition perceiving the calling of Rurik as a nationwide acquisition of heavenly blessing, or Khvarenah. In this case, as in many others, Christianity did not abolish, but rather exalted and confirmed the ancient, pre-Christian faith.

Now about the Varangians. Without entering into the debates over the ethnic identity of this tribe (which is unimportant for us), we will try to identify the symbolic meaning of this name. Zoroastrianism once gave us some keys, so we turn to it once again. The word “Varangian”, in terms of sound and possibly also in terms of origin, is close to the name of the Zoroastrian god Varhorn (or Verethragna). Varhorn is one of the seven supreme “gods” of Mazdaism, the god of victory. It was none other than this god who was believed to be the fundamental carrier and bearer of Khvarenah, and he was traditionally associated with the falcon Vargan (compare: vargan, varingr, i.e., varyag which is Russian for “Varangian” or “viking”), as his constant companion or even his incarnation. Thus, the Varangians, in addition to their historical specificity, could represent some kind of symbolic meaning, the embodiment of full Khvarenah, royal happiness, one precious part of which – Rurik-Falcon – descended, like manna, on the grace-hungry tribes. But the mythological, etymological chain doest not end there. The word varyag is also quite comparable with the Sanskrit root svar, or “sky,” “sunlight,” (in fact, it is also very close to the Persian hvar from which Khvarenah is derived). It is possible that the Russian word for north, sever, is also related to svar, as the North was considered to be of a “heavenly, divine orientation” by the ancient Aryan peoples. Therefore, the correlation between the Varangians, the North and the sky perfectly corresponds to the very mysterious logic of the calling of the first Tsar.

It is possible to go still further. Varharn is the Persian equivalent of the Sanskrit word vritra-han, i.e. “Slayer of Vritra,” the epithet of the Heavenly Tsar, the god Indra. Indra is the Hindu archetype of all kings, who dwells and is found, according to traditional Hindu cosmography, in the sky – svar. The very name “Indians” and “Hindi” is by all means likely the theophoric (god-bearing) name of the “people of Indra,” and therefore a god-bearing people. The Varangians, for their part, as one of the Indo-European tribes, could have essentially been the theophoric people of Vargan or Vergarn-Veretragna, i.e., essentially the same as Indra, the “Slayer of Vritra.” Nor can it be excluded that the distant echoes of these mythological correspondences, living on in the depths of the national unconscious, gave rise to the concept of Russia as the “White India” among poets of a folk-mystical orientation, such as Klyuev and Yesenin. The Russian monarchical emblem, the Byzantine, two-headed eagle, can also be compared to Falcon-Rurik, the carrier of the magical power of Khvarenah. Another curious detail is that Moscow, the capital of the Russian state and the seat of the Russian Tsar, has as its emblem St. George slaying a serpent (the emblem of Prince Yuri Dolgoruky). Varharn (the god of Khvarenah) is first and foremost the god of victory, and St. George is also the victory-bearer. In addition, the very name Varharn-Veretragna, as we said above, means “Snake-Slayer,” or “Slayer of Vritra,” and St. George is usually depicted as killing the Serpent. It is also characteristic that Iranian mythology contains a number of tales depicting a struggle between a solar hero (Kersaspa, Traeton, etc.) and a Serpent or Dragon, the conflict of which is over the right to possess the mystical power of Khvarenah, a right for which the opponents challenge each other. Thus, the combination of these symbols in the coat of arms of the capital – the residence of the Tsar – along with the eagle as the symbol of Russia in general, yield the paradigm of the ancient structure of the monarchical mystery.

Another traditional symbol of royal authority and the state is the orb mounted with a cross – the symbol of the earth in ancient astrological texts. The state of the Russian Tsar, naturally, is identified with the Russian land. And here once again we are talking about “Inner Russia,” which we spoke about in the beginning. It is especially important that in the national sacred tradition, it is precisely the Tsar, the Anointed by God, the messenger of heaven, and the bearer of supernatural fire, who protects and keeps in his hands a gigantic land (hence the title “autocrat” from the seven secret saints of the Christian tradition on whom the whole weight of the world rests).

All of Russian history is permeated with the deepest understanding of the sacred role of the Tsar. This understanding contributed to a much more religious relationship between the Orthodox and the monarch than that seen between the Catholics and their kings.[4] Moreover the Orthodox idea of the Tsar sharply differs on a theological level from the corresponding Catholic concept. In Russia, there was never a division between purely spiritual life, subordinated to the spiritual hierarchy, and purely secular life, subordinated to kings, as in the case of the Catholic West. In the idea of Holy Russia and Tsarist Russia, all levels of the sacred way of life are combined. The Church, as the spirit of Russia, did not set itself above the Tsar, but recognized his supernatural and legal authority, and gave blessing to his power, without which the state would have lost its sacred pole. Thus, the “inner continent,” Russia, had its “inner center,” the sacred monarch. Their merging (their symbolic hierosgamos) accounts for the specific Russian fate and the deep dimension of Russian history.

The mystery of the pole

Now we would like to mention a study by the French Traditionalist Gaston Georgel devoted to historical cycles and the logic of the cultural development of ancient civilizations, which bears direct relevance to our topic. Georgel’s book under consideration is called Rhythms in History.[5] In this extremely interesting work, there is a small section which examines the patterns of the movement of the centers of this or that ancient civilization around the Eurasian continent. Without delving into the essence of the author’s interpretation of certain patterns, we will simply provide the facts which are given and which have direct relevance to “Inner Russia.” Studying the geographical location of the centers of ancient civilization, Georgel noted one astonishing peculiarity. Starting with Elam (around 4,000 B.C.) and finishing in our times, we can observe a shift of certain cultures from East to West. Georgel endeavored to draw a single line connecting the ancient center of Elamite civilization, located not far from the town of Kelat, the ancient Sumerian city of Ur, Greek Athens, and French Paris. The result exceeded all expectations.

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The arc connecting these centers turns out to divide them almost exactly into sectors of 30 degrees. According to the author’s notes, at exactly 30 degrees along the eclipse, the point of vernal equinox moves over a period of time equal to 2,160 years, that is, the time separating the epochs of these cultures is 4,000 years up to Elam, 2,000 up to Ur, a bit more than 2,000 years ago to Athens and, finally, to the contemporary “capital of Europe”, Paris. The arch extending over the East at 30 degrees leads to the location of the capital of Tibet, Lhasa, and the same arc of the same curvature, merely belonging to a circle of a larger radius, connects Jerusalem and Rome. But where does the center of this circle reside? Here once again is a strange thing: it lies at the intersection of the Meridian at 60 degrees east of the Arctic circle, i.e., on the territory of Russia, North of the Ural mountains (let us note that Moscow is located near to the radius which connects Athens with the center of the circle). It is with this, in fact, that Georgel ends his account.

We can go one step further and point to even more bizarre patterns. It is generally known  that the line of the North Pole is the projection of the circle of the celestial sphere, along which the North Pole of the World shifts (due to a phenomenon termed in astronomy the precession of equinoxes) around the pole of the eclipse. But if the celestial sphere is stationary, then the globe rotates in space relative to it, or more precisely, relative to the eclipse plane which is identical to the plane of the orbital rotation of the earth at 23.5 degrees. This shift of 23.5 degrees is fixed on the line of the Arctic circle. If we compare the point of the North Pole of the earth with the current north star – Alpha Ursae Minoris – then the center of the eclipse, and hence the true pole of the sky (the most immobile of all, as the earth’s axis makes a circle around it over a vast period of time – 25,960 years), will be projected on the line of the Arctic circle. But how can we determine which exact point?

Here the first globes of the Renaissance era come to our aid, on which at the same angle of 23.5 degrees, a projection of the eclipse inclined towards the earth’s equator and marking respectively the northern Tropic of Cancer and the southern Tropic of Capricorn was marked. What is important is on what meridian the projection of the sign of Capricorn is placed, which then allows one to logically determine the order of the projection of constellations on the globe, as well as to find in the Arctic circle the point corresponding to the center of the eclipse. All old maps and globes answer this question unambiguously: on the basis of late Medieval and Renaissance geographical knowledge, the sign of Capricorn, the southernmost point of the eclipse, is projected on the meridian which passes through the Ural mountains (the Ripheans, as the Greeks called them), the symbolic border between Europe and Asia. On this very meridian, 60 degrees East longitude, Gaston Georgel conducted his study of the geography of ancient civilizations! This means that the pole of the eclipse, the true celestial pole, when projected onto the globe, corresponds to the pole of the circle around which the focus of civilizations shifts over millennia.

screen-shot-2018-07-26-at-12.22.07-pm.pngIf today we are now capable of making similarly logical inferences on the basis of an elementary knowledge of astronomy and geography, then why should it be excluded that the  ancients, holding such knowledge (this is proven by a swathe of modern research on the ancient observatories of the Chinese, Sumerian, Celtic, and other traditions), and not being burdened by technocratic and agnostic prejudices, were perfectly well aware of the correlations between the earth and the sky, and built on these correspondences their sacred geography and the logic of their sacred history? It is most likely that the completeness of this synthetic knowledge gradually drifted into the realms of mental archetypes, fairy tales, fables, and legends, manifesting itself most openly in especially rotary periods in the history of mankind.

Russians and Hyperboreans

This French Traditionalist’s empirical discovery of the hypothetical pole of civilizations might help explain not only a number of enigmatic facts of humanity’s past, but also yield the keys to understanding one of the most strange secrets of our time – the secret of “Russian patriotism”, which can in no way be reduced to the banal nationalism of a particular ethnic group. “Russian patriotism,” in its deepest dimension, is universal and “pan-human” has F.M. Dostoevsky said, himself connected with the “inner continent,” with the central continent located in the vicinity of the fixed point of the “wheel of life,” the circle of the wandering human soul. And perhaps it is only appropriate that the city closest to the point of this Northern center was the city of Inta, which is similar to the name of the Peruvian sun god Inti and the Aryan Indra. Moreover, if we project celestial constellations onto land on the basis of the above-mentioned correlations, then our center, as well as the center of the eclipse, falls on the constellation of the Dragon, the eternal enemy of Indra and the “sun gods” of victory.

Interestingly enough, the abode of Indra in Hinduism is believed across various accounts to be in the North-East, and the name of Indra’s elephant, Airavata, coincides with the Jain name of the northernmost countries on earth. But this land, as we have already said, was also called Varahi, i.e., “land of the Wild Boar,” which precisely corresponds to the Greek root bor, i.e., “North”, the country of Hyperborea (“lying in the Far North”), the abode of the Sun of Apollo, who is also a “dragon slayer.” It is no coincidence that Ancient Greek sources tell of the Hyperboreans sending symbolic gifts of wheat to Delphi via the Scythian and more Northern Russian lands. It is curious that the word varahi reminds us also of varyagi, i.e., the legendary people who gave the Russians the sacred monarch.

In legends of the Hyperboreans, the “herbal” nature of their gifts, such as ears of wheat, is always emphasized. The ancient tradition believed that agriculture was the most important ancient occupation of people, prior to livestock breeding. The metaphysical view of the ancients on this reflects a fundamental peace and fixation (the sedentariness of farmers) which is put above dynamism and variability (nomadism and pastoralism). Moreover, the most characteristic occupation of Russians has always been agriculture. In this regard, the following fact is of interest: one of the old names for the Slavs in general was vene or Venety, as was one of the names of one of the Slavic tribes. And to this day, the Estonians and Finns still call Russians vene. In all of this it is impossible not to notice the obvious parallels with the Vanir of the Nordic sagas. The Vanir are the group of gods engaged in agriculture (in contrast to the nomads and pastoralists of the Aesir), who embody the traits of sacred peace-loving and, according to the ancient sagas, inhabited the lower reaches of the Dnieper and the Don. Here it is appropriate to recall that one of the favorite and most frequent Russian names is Ivan. Although the latter is derived from the Hebrew name John, it can be assumed that the self-designation of the Slavs survived in this Christian form. Moreover, there is a peculiar symbolic coincidence between the gospels’ tale about the head of John the Baptist and the ancient Germanic myths of the Vanir and the head of the giant Mimir, which the Vanir cut off and sent to the Aesir. This same story of beheading is central in the life of John the Baptist. Just as Odin, the leader of the Aesir, enlivens the severed head of Mimir, which foretells him of the beginning of the Final Judgement (Ragnarokr), so do the Christian parables tell us of the miraculous finding of the talking head of John the Baptist. Here it should be added that the warning of the Final Judgement from the head of Mimir is a direct parallel to the eschatological warning of the prophet John about the coming of the Messiah.

In our opinion, all of this can be explained by the existence of a united, primordial mythological complex that was rooted in the Indo-European peoples in primordial times. Historical outbreaks of this complex are always correlated with certain cyclical patterns and certain territories. The “inner continents” and their mythologies could slip across the planet together with their tribes, their bearers. They could be clearly fixed at certain places of the earth. They could be transferred from people to people. And finally, they could be integrated into different religious structures, thereby composing the archetypal unity of traditions. For us, the most important in all of this is identifying the specific logic of the archetypal tradition and its spiritual and symbolic content. The ethnoi which in this or that period became bearers of this Tradition soak in it, turning into theophoric (god-bearing) or idea-bearing ethnoi, thus becoming the earthly body of some kind of heavenly entity, a living idea, or an archangel.

Whatever might be the fleeting historical reasons behind the sacred association of these lands, and whatever peoples might have inhabited them, “Inner Russia” was, in its deepest dimension, identified with “earthly paradise”, with the territories of the Golden Age and, moreover, the symbolism of Hyperborea, Varahi, and the Vanir-Ivan tillers. Across the most different traditions, “Inner Russia” is constantly associated with none other than the ancient homeland of the free, immortal ancestors. To speak of a “national identity” of Paradise is quite ridiculous. It is for this reason that every upsurge in the unconscious archetypes of “mystical patriotism” in the Russian people has never been comparable to any ordinary, small nationalism. The Russians themselves call “Russians” all those who are in solidarity with them in their deep intuition of the sacrality of the lands upon which they live. This fundamentally distinguishes Russians from other peoples and, in particular, from other Slavs, who are much more soberly and rationally conscious of national boundaries. Although something of the sort has always been characteristic of truly imperial peoples, in Russia this was and is revealed in a special form with a special force.

Mystical Russia

Let us draw a few conclusions:

The self-consciousness of the peoples and nations traditionally inhabiting the territory of Russia is fundamentally connected with the specific, sacred geography of this territory.

In the complex of sacred geography, the lands of Russia occupy a central place in accordance with the ancient logic of astronomical and astrological correlations.

Consciousness of the uniqueness of Russia from the perspective of sacred geography largely determines the mystery of “Russian patriotism.”

“Russian patriotism” is imbued with a cosmic fate and is not only a fact of history. He who lives and learns Russia lives and learns the secret bequeathed to distant generations of ancestors who fought under the banner of Alexander the Great, galloped across the steppes among Tatar cavalry, worshipped the the Son of God in Byzantium, lit the sacred fires on the altars of Ahura-Mazda, listened to the teachings of the druids under the oaks of Europe, beheld in spiritual ecstasy the eternal dance of Shiva-Nataraja, built the ziggurats of Assyria, destroyed Carthage, and sailed the seas in boats with the curved neck of the Hyperborean Swan at the nose, always remembering the Heart of the World, the “golden heart of Russia” (Nikolai Gumilev) and “Mystical Russia.”

We are approaching an important spiritual milestone. Global forces are stretched to the limit, and in many ways the fate of our country today determines the fate of the planet. Therefore, it is important to break through to the depths of the sacrality of Russia and its prehistoric roots in order to understand its strange and sorrowful path, and to muster strength for the revival of this Holy Country and the rebirth of Continent Russia together with its secret, permafrost-covered center.

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Footnotes:

[1] Jean Chevalier and Alain Gheerbrant, The Dictionary of Symbols (London: Penguin, 1996), 233.

[2] Mircea Eliade, L’épreuve de labyrinthe. Paris, 1985.

[3] See Alexander Dugin, The Metaphysics of the Gospel, Chapter 36.

[4]  From a theological point of view, there exists a huge difference between Tsar, King, and Prince. The Tsar is the Emperor, the Basileus, the head of the church-going Orthodox Empire who unites under his reign a number of countries, kingdoms, and principalities. The principle of the Emperor-Tsar is associated not only with temporal power but also with the mystery of “Katechon,” “the one who withholds,” while royal dignity belongs to an ontologically different, lower, secular and administrative level.

[5] Gaston Georgel, Les rythmes dans l’Histoire. Belfort, 1937.

© Jafe Arnold – All Rights Reserved. No reproduction without expressed permission.