Stealing Europe Part 1

This is Europa’s beautiful legend. Today of course it’s just another “me too” horror story.

Forrás: PEXELS

Babits [Hungarian poet, writer and translator] knew the acceptable level:

Compelled to be the hero of my verse, / the first and last in every song I write, / I long to shape in them the universe, / but naught beyond my self comes in my sight. // There's naught but me: such thoughts I start to nurse; / if there is, God alone can get it right. / A blind nut shut in shell: this is my curse – / to await being cracked in hateful night. // To break my magic ring I try in vain. / Only my arrow pierces it: desire - / though I know well my hopes will shrink by half. / prison for my own self I must remain, / being subject and object, son and sire, / being, alas, both omega and alpha. [Translation by István Tótfalusi]

But people today don’t hold back one bit. Because for them there is no one else but themselves along with their projected self-hatred, their unsuccessfulness, and their ideology carved

from this. Of course this ideology always wants to change the world. Because what else would they want? If they can’t have anything, they need the world – and right now. They hate themselves , so they think they need to change the world. Because of course the world is at fault.

Albert Camus wrote of the Nazis: These psychos would’ve destroyed the entire world because if they couldn’t live forever, no one could. This sin, in its transcendence, is at least grandiose. But let’s stay with Camus for a bit to get completely disappointed: “ But as soon as a man, through lack of character, takes refuge in a doctrine, as soon as he makes his crime reasonable, it multiplies like Reason herself and assumes all the figures of the syllogism. [...] But Ideology, a contemporary phenomenon, limits itself to repudiating other people; they alone are the cheats. [...] But this mode of thinking, for the moment, yields only one concept, that of the absurd. [...] If one believes in nothing, if nothing makes sense, if we can assert no value whatsoever, everything is permissible and nothing is important. There is no pro or con ; the murderer is neither right nor wrong. One is free to stoke the crematory fires, or to give one’s life to the care of lepers. Wickedness and virtue are just accident or whim. [...] Thus, whichever way we turn in the depths of negation and nihilism, murder has its privileged position. [...] Man is the only creature who refuses to be what he is.”

Exciting, right? Especially this: “If one believes in nothing, if nothing makes sense, if we can assert no value whatsoever, everything is permissible and nothing is important.” And this: “Man is the only creature who refuses to be what he is.” That’s why today men can give birth as well. Because there is no point to anything at all. The grandiose sin of “take the whole world down with ourselves” has been shattered into the absurd pythanism of “men can give birth too.”

Man’s millennials-long collective knowledge and his individual perspective spanning generations stretches from last year’s Black Friday TV sale to tomorrow’s number of likes on my Facebook post. Where is Camus’ rebel? “But its blind impetus clamours for order in the midst of chaos, and for unity in the very heart of the ephemeral. It protests, it demands, it insists that the

outrage come to an end, that there be built upon rock what until now was written unceasingly upon the waters.” But now there’s not even a rock left, just sand. Camus again wrote once more on the Nazis and horrifying 1945: “This logic took suicide, the nourishment of our era, to its final conclusion, the murder declared legitimate. And it reaches its height in collective murder. The most obvious evidence of this is Hitler’s apocalypse in 1945. Their own destruction was ignored by these lunatics and they were preparing for a sublime death in their underground shelters. The point was not to perish alone, but to drag down the rest of the world with them.

This is the grandiose sin. The Jacobins were capable of this too. Of course, they too started with changing the whole world. They even got to renaming the months of the year. They needed a new concept of time – how could the Christian Gregorian calendar satisfy their pagan, satanic, God-denying reality? Every barbarian is convinced that the real world, real life starts and ends with themselves. That’s why these monsters needed their own “revolutionary” calendar. And so, the Gregorian calendar, starting from Christ’s birth, was thrown aside to give way to the “revolutionary calendar” where the names of months referring to Christianity or antiquity were changed to “rational” ones: Vendémiaire, Brumaire, Frimaire, Nivôse, Pluviôse, Ventôse, Germinal, Floréal, Prairial, Messidor, Thermidor, Fructidor. Oh, how wonderful! And now that we’ve renamed the months, let’s set out on our murdering spree; and thus they attacked their own people at Vandeé – because they only attacked their own – and they killed thousands including peasants, priests, nuns, monks, intoxicated by the small of blood and of course their “greatness” and “courage”.

And the Bolsheviks knew these same things; right from the start they set out to “erase the past once and for all” and of course they killed anyone and everyone, millions as a matter of fact. Because they had plenty of time; and in the Ipatyev house they beat dying children with rifles – and they were oh so very proud.

These guys today? Well, they aren’t as brave. Yet. They’ve only gotten to transforming words and erasing the past as of now. They just want to destroy our normal world and then wade through the abnormal filth to collect “likes”.

If you are nothing, if you can’t leave a mark in this world, then you may start eliminating words, transforming their meanings, erasing values we believed to be eternal from the collective consciousness, stigmatizing history and historical figures – but you won’t sacrifice yourself because oh no! A genderfluid caterpillar won’t be dying out on the barricades!

“This is how, in this sad century, the supreme, most spiritual things are slowly dissolving into the struggles of this earthly, and so to speak, bodily life, culminating and crowned by the struggle between races and nations, just as between the herds, swarms, and packs of animals. This is a slippery slope; and the socialists proclaim in vain – and sometimes believe themselves – to be the professional fighter for peace and humanity: they just go a step further down this road. Race and nationality are still superior, still selfless; they exchange the struggles for the immediate goals of the individual for the struggle of the straightforward and admittedly material aims of the organizations for the best possible livelihood.

Fighting for bread is certainly a great and vital thing in physical and practical life: but he who initiates this struggle as the axis of human culture – as the socialist scribe does – identifies human culture with animals. Thought, religion, morality, and art – the conservation of which rests on the shoulders of scribes – they lose their honor in this culture. Only instincts, deeds and utility remain there. Such is our culture, so much so that the true, the good, the beautiful are no longer used as concepts – instead vital and social has taken their place, national, or earthy or today’s.”

Babits saw this exactly. And where have we come since those bread-wars? Oh Lord, from today’s perspective those seem sublime. At least, heroic compared to today’s battle of genitalia. The genitalia battle persists today; a battle fought so some may switch up, mix around, exchange their own genitalia. Compared to these guys, the existence of pigs is sublime. One piece of bacon is the nirvana of pork. And really, “I've seen what they call happiness: / soft, blonde, it weighed two hundred kilos; / it waddled smiling on the grass, / its tail a curl between two pillows. / Its lukewarm puddle glowed with yellows, / it

blinked and grunted at me - yes, / I still remember where it wallows, / touched by the dawns of blissfulness.”

Of course. But at least Attila József could look up at the “the cogwheel of the sky” – true, he only saw that “the weft of law is torn, unseaming.”

But this is still somehow more sublime than these barbarians today; all they can do is stare at the slit in their underpants, and the slits of other people’s underpants, and the underpants of children – but of course always other children as they don’t have their own…. (To be continued)

Photo: Pexels