There is much talk of “resistance” among those who think of themselves as revolutionaries. But what constitutes resistance?
It is a very easy thing to join a movement, especially an activist movement which gets the emotions thundering with a relentless stream of petitions, letter writing campaigns, op-eds, and magazines—punctuated, of course, by rallies, marches, and pickets. It is even easier to join a party, wherein the emotions are kept at a more or less steady ebb all year long by way of the press, only to be ramped to maximum intensity come election season; when all you have to do is vote, it is the easiest thing in the world. But no matter who you vote for, no matter which rallies you attend, and no matter which cause’s sign goes in your hand or in your yard, there is no radical resistance to be had this way. Time is not yours; you are of time. And, as with all of His children, Saturn will consume you when your sun has set.
None of this is to disparage political action, for it is more monstrous not to take a side than even to take the side of the unjust and inhumane. At least the tyrant may act from a genuine interest in what he thinks best for everyone, or the plutocrat may act from self-interest, both of which are superior to no interest at all. But as Charles Bukowski famously put it, “The difference between a democracy and a dictatorship is that in a democracy you vote first and take orders later; in a dictatorship you don’t have to waste your time voting.” If voting is the last opportunity you have for voicing opposition, then vote. But when you vote in opposition, you are doing one thing only: seeing to it that the Majority is meaningfully a Majority. As Ernst Jünger pointed out, the ruler needs to have a Majority but not an absolute one, for to have 100% of the vote makes the lack of real opposition too obvious. And so we have the so-called “third parties”. Yet the spirit of a “No” vote can be part of finding one’s footing in the forest.
Radical resistance is always spiritual—whether or not it is also bodily is situational. But spiritual resistance always carries an element of danger. Materialistic atheism is the death of resistance every bit as much as the domesticated mysticism of mainline Catholicism or the domestic Evangelical become little more than a “voice crying out in the shopping center”. The Utopianism of the New Age and the intellectual escapism of occultism are hardly any better. The occultist’s metaphysical speculation, however, can be the beginnings of a road to the realm beyond reason, the vitalistic world of the soul; the yearning for Utopia is at least yearning for better, in the bittersweet way of nostalgia for what never was; the structure of religion can build discipline and respect for those on the quest of liberation before us and what they have to teach, not to mention linking us into a potentially helpful egregore.
But, again, none of these things constitute resistance itself. True freedom comes not just of transcendence but of reflecting that transcendence, not of climbing the mountain but of building, maintaining, or renovating the road which will allow others to come up—and to go back down at will. Puja in a cemetery at night is worth more than a month of pujas in the shelter of your bedroom. Though crows and insects and shades of the dead and spirits of trees and shadows cast by no object may harass and harangue, the insistence of continuing what you came for will soon enough have them sitting down with you in the kingdom of Saturn. It is then that you step not out of but through time, not that time should vanish but that its true significance may be seen as the way Eternity dances.