For all the talk of returning to a deep-rooted and traditional past, the dissident right has retained perhaps the most defining trait of the modern West. Be it the cold eugenicists rooting for Richard Spencer, the neo-pagans beating each other up in the hills of Virginia, or the merely the latter-day Cynics of Moldbuggian NRx, all branches of the dissident right have a place for Christianity outside the doors of their future society. In spite of 1500 years of history shaping the West, the friendliest approach to Christianity our movement has taken is to relegate the Faith to a corner—be it the greater Orthosphere, the smaller Kinist corner, The Godcast, or some other—making Christian Reaction a genre in its heart rather than the beating heart of the post-liberal phenomenon. Perhaps it is natural to our world—Faustian man has outgrown his unique brand of the Faith, and perhaps, as Nietzsche observed, the moral anchor of our civilization has indeed loosened itself from the Rock of Ages. If this is so, we are truly adrift, for Christianity has forever provided our civilization with access to something unique: it has been our source, and the only historical source, of a manifest perfect absolute. Truth, for Christian man, is more important than anything—it is even above Being itself. Since Kant—really, since Descartes—Faustian man has lost this Christian regard for Truth, and has therefore sunk deeper into a Sisyphan existence, constantly seeking to acquire knowledge and mastery of the knowable world, unable to see over this mountain to the absolute beyond.
There are two axioms that apply here. The first is that “the wage of Sin is Death”—the nature of sin, which in its purest form is the negation of Being, is the source of all entropy, decay, and death. The second is Conquest’s Second Law: “Any organization not explicitly and constitutionally right-wing will sooner or later become left-wing”; or, restated for our purposes, any phenomenon that is not explicitly grounded in an absolute Truth will collapse into a multitude of relative truths. These two statements are axiomatic because they are restatements of one another—they are expressing the same reality that anything not grounded in the singular, eternal, permanent reality will eventually cease to have any relation to reality at all. The Church teaches us that this is true of individual souls—that sin multiplies itself, and therefore non-being, until a person is left without any recourse to the reunification of their soul with God, and plunged into a burning, consuming emptiness that the Hebrews called Gehenna, and Western Christians have come to call Hell.
We run a terrible risk in judging by standards foreign to our Christian forebears: the heart of the entire Civilization we have inherited (the only civilization to have conquered and subdued the entire world) is the Truth that they discovered and knew in their hearts. This Faith has enabled us to achieve things impossible for the rest of humanity. Our superiority cannot be engineered, it cannot be explained solely by genetics or biology if we wish to maintain any sense of honesty about the incomprehensibility of existence. More simply put, “there are more things in heaven and on earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” The absence of a clear sense of absolute Truth also deprives us of a clear sense of its opposite, and without a clear sense of evil, there can be nothing but a relative sense of goodness—which makes any undertaking on the part of the good, the true, and the beautiful futile.
There is no need to repeat the usual apologetics for Christianity—all arguments have already been made. The most important argument for the Western dissident right, however, is that our ancestors knew it was their Faith, and there is no reason to doubt their decision to accept it as the Truth they could not find in any alternative, however attractive or consistent with their original tribal cultures. They found in Christianity a means to uplift their people—and the constancy of our Faith dictates that it remains such – relative morality, relative truth, and relative devotion can only tear down tradition and tribe, they cannot preserve it at its heart because they cannot establish any kind of absolute value. Only Christianity can truly bid fruitfulness, only knowledge of the Devil can truly grant the power to see evil.
We no longer talk about the diabolic: it’s too uncomfortable, perhaps too childish, in the minds of the intelligentsia—even the dissident intelligentsia. We cannot do without the Devil, though, and we cannot replace him, for he alone matches the absolute of Truth. He is the archetypical rebel, the progressive, the liberal-minded defiant poised against the perceived injustice of natural hierarchy and divine order. Ignoring him means surrendering the archetype whereby we understand our enemies’ failures as human beings and opens us to the same failures, faults, and spiritual corruption. If we are Westerners, or, better, if we seek to attain to the heights that Western man has reached, we attach ourselves to absolute Truth or nothing at all. The realm of the sacred, the diabolic, the weird, and the magical cannot be dead to us, because they are the essence of the worldview that made Western man possible—moreover, the singular thing that defined the Faustian ability to accomplish what no other civilization could is rooted in the proper ordering of those things.
Christ alone offers such an ordering—the recognition of the diabolic as diabolic, and the renunciation of spiritual short-cuts is the beating heart of the Christian faith. All other peoples and cultures throughout time have offered formulae for material well-being, consorting or at least engaging the weird, the magical, and the diabolic. The Phoenicians founded their success on burning their infants and toddlers alive in grotesque ritual. The Norsemen built a terrifying warrior race that overran and controlled the entirety of Northern and Western Europe, hanging their enemies’ entrails from trees as an offering to the god of death and war. The Mexica built an empire on ripping out the hearts of captives and ritually cannibalizing them. All of these were stable, successful societies that maintained strong families with long-standing, complex cultural traditions. They were everything that the decadent West is not—but they achieved this through evil means, by seeking the short, broad road to stability and worldly success rather than the long, jagged course through the forest of true self-discipline and self-mastery – a self-mastery that does not end in the nihilistic self-annihilation offered by the false religions of modernity, be it in the form of adaptations of imperfect Eastern forms or reconstruction of ancient godless philosophies.
It is, therefore, time for us to stop pretending our Faith permits us to put it on a shelf in order to converse with the world. Our world cannot be understood except in a spiritual way, because all other ways ignore the spiritual and nonmaterial. When evil things happen, demons are present. Christians are not permitted to deny this and remain Christians. The Orthosphere is not an error, but it is insufficient. A Christian cannot permit the Faith to exist in a corner – it must be True, and therefore we can never tire of declaring it, or it is False, and we should abandon it. Anything else, especially the pseudo-bolshevism that gave rise to separation of Church and State, must be unacceptable to us for consideration.