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Culture War Roundup for the week of January 30, 2023

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so did World War II veteran Kurt Vonnegut in The Sirens of Titan: a segment of the novel features Martians who are hypnotized into invading Earth. Their invasion is pathetic and swiftly crushed, so pathetic that the Earthlings are ashamed of what they did and the memory of the Martians becomes part of a new religion. That is a way forward for forgiving Hitler and the Nazis: not to see them as evil, but as sick and deluded. Because the sick are a target of pity, not of outrage.

This is a damnation greater, not lesser, than the regular sort, for it denies even the dignity normally afforded to a true enemy. The idea that Nazis were sick and deluded is mainstream – very competitive with the theory that they were sane thugs whose philosophy or innate inclinations led them to pick on the weak. The question of whether they belonged to that special category of mentally unwell evildoers who remain irredeemable may be interesting to some (e.g. Christians coming to terms with the fact that «Judeo-Christianity» isn't a coherent moral framework), but really it's just shades of dehumanization. There is no authentic human agency in an outburst of pathetic insanity, and no one to forgive. As civilized men, we do not begrudge man-eating tigers their addiction to human flesh, we shoot them on sight.

...There are essentially two paths to forgiveness. The easy one, the false one, adjacent to your method, is spinning a comfortable story where the core of the evil impulse will be something you find intrinsically excusable, even a mere accident or a misunderstanding. They were just following orders, they weren't loved by their fathers, they got traumatized by WWI, yada yada. Or just gesture in that direction, like Orwell, in the refreshing manner of an upper-class leftie British journo sniggering at a country bumpkin with a big attitude:

Suppose that Hitler's programme could be put into effect. What he envisages, a hundred years hence, is a continuous state of 250 million Germans with plenty of "living room" (i.e. stretching to Afghanistan or thereabouts), a horrible brainless empire in which, essentially, nothing ever happens except the training of young men for war and the endless breeding of fresh cannon-fodder. How was it that he was able to put this monstrous vision across? [...] I should like to put it on record that I have never been able to dislike Hitler. Ever since he came to power—till then, like nearly everyone, I had been deceived into thinking that he did not matter—I have reflected that I would certainly kill him if I could get within reach of him, but that I could feel no personal animosity. The fact is that there is something deeply appealing about him. One feels it again when one sees his photographs—and I recommend especially the photograph at the beginning of Hurst and Blackett's edition, which shows Hitler in his early Brownshirt days. It is a pathetic, dog-like face, the face of a man suffering under intolerable wrongs. In a rather more manly way it reproduces the expression of innumerable pictures of Christ crucified, and there is little doubt that that is how Hitler sees himself. The initial, personal cause of his grievance against the universe can only be guessed at; but at any rate the grievance is here. He is the martyr, the victim, Prometheus chained to the rock, the self-sacrificing hero who fights single-handed against impossible odds. If he were killing a mouse he would know how to make it seem like a dragon. One feels, as with Napoleon, that he is fighting against destiny, that he can't win, and yet that he somehow deserves to. The attraction of such a pose is of course enormous; half the films that one sees turn upon some such theme.

The hard path to forgiveness is trying the evildoer's perspective for size, and understanding how it is not obviously insane, and learning that you can hate the sin even when you're no longer able to look down on the sinner. But that's risky, of course: look into the abyss and all that.

With regard to Nazis, one nifty trick is to check out some of their self-appointed antipodes. I pick Ozy Brennan. Says Ozy:

The Iron Dream does a fantastic job of capturing what it’s like to be a Nazi. (I asked a few of my friends who have studied this more in depth than I am and they confirmed.) The worldview of Alternate Universe Adolf Hitler is grim. There is no simple joy described in the novel: pleasure at a flower, or a good meal, or a child’s smile. Sexuality and eroticism are absent; sex exists solely for the preservation of the race, and even that is eventually abolished. In a lovely detail, while characters laugh, they never actually tell a joke that’s funny.

What The Iron Dream has instead of joy is dominance. The ceaseless victories of Your Team over Their Team. The fierce jubilation at the torture and violence you unleash upon those weaker than you, purely to flaunt that they can’t stop you. The endless parade of identical soldiers, marching in unison: the thud of their feet which means strength, power, triumph.

...then I observe that this is an easy trade for me to make, because I like beauty and humor and sex and all the rest, but I have no dominance instinct. My status-related desires run towards admiration, which can’t be coerced with a gun. [...] But perhaps, to someone with a stronger dominance or competitive instinct, Naziism is appealing. Perhaps they would be a Nazi, at reflective equilibrium, at least if sufficiently assured that they’re not a Jew.

Ozy fancies herself an original thinker. I assume the attentive (and primed!) reader has noticed that her idea of the ethos of Nazism is riffing off Orwell, in fact from the most iconic passage:

The old civilizations claimed that they were founded on love or justice. Ours is founded upon hatred. In our world there will be no emotions except fear, rage, triumph, and self-abasement. [...] We have cut the links between child and parent, and between man and man, and between man and woman. No one dares trust a wife or a child or a friend any longer. But in the future there will be no wives and no friends. Children will be taken from their mothers at birth, as one takes eggs from a hen. The sex instinct will be eradicated. Procreation will be an annual formality like the renewal of a ration card. &We shall abolish the orgasm.* Our neurologists are at work upon it now. There will be no loyalty, except loyalty towards the Party. There will be no love, except the love of Big Brother. There will be no laughter, except the laugh of triumph over a defeated enemy. There will be no art, no literature, no science. When we are omnipotent we shall have no more need of science. There will be no distinction between beauty and ugliness. There will be no curiosity, no enjoyment of the process of life. All competing pleasures will be destroyed. But always — do not forget this, Winston — always there will be the intoxication of power, constantly increasing and constantly growing subtler. Always, at every moment, there will be the thrill of victory, the sensation of trampling on an enemy who is helpless. If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face — for ever.’

1984 is cool. But what about 14/88, both versions – the «our children« and «Because the beauty of the White Aryan woman must not perish from the Earth»? Is it really isomorphic to that nightmare vision from the Iron Dream? To some people it might be.

And, speaking of, what does Ozy zerself mean by beauty?

One could very reasonably make the case that the natural human aesthetic sense prefers realistic paintings of beautiful landscapes with water, trees, large animals, beautiful women, children, and well-known historical figures [...] However, art of this sort leaves me cold. The art I find most heartbreakingly, exquisitely beautiful looks like this... Is there, perhaps, some deep evolutionary wisdom I am missing in why trees are prettier than abstract shades of grey? Of course not. I like what I like; the things that give me pleasure are the things that give me pleasure. ... I talk about the beauty of Serrano’s Piss Christ; my strongest criticism is that I feel it’s bad form to court controversy when your art cannot stand on its own.

Ah, but Nazis would have called that Entartete Kunst. Is it beauty when the crux of an art piece is humiliation of a faith? Or is it more Orwellian will to power?

From their perspective, I don’t simply have different values, I actively rejoice in evil. I tell cute childhood stories about replacing “Respect Authority” with “Question Authority” in the Girl Scout Law. I urge people with all the eloquence I can muster not to prioritize their ingroups over other groups of people. [...] my read of the psychological evidence is that, from my value system, about half the country is evil and it is in my self-interest to shame the expression of their values, indoctrinate their children, and work for a future where their values are no longer represented on this Earth.

As they say in xianxia, out by the roots! Not even the original justifications of those values shall survive. And words will mean whatever. Spooky!

«The object of power is power. Now do you begin to understand me?»


I don't think that forgiveness is a clear moral good. Jews pride themselves on the unwillingness to forget and forgive, and it works for them. Tolerance for real moral aliens, with their reasonable fear of The Other, though – that could help.

The hard path to forgiveness is trying the evildoer's perspective for size, and understanding how it is not obviously insane, and learning that you can hate the sin even when you're no longer able to look down on the sinner. But that's risky, of course: look into the abyss and all that.

The irony is that today's most-fervent anti-Nazi already understands the perspective of the Nazi, they just aren't aware of it: They've singled out a group of people upon whom they blame the ills of modern society, and wish to eradicate them via a spectrum of solutions that includes violence. While the anti-Nazi's accepted modes of violence might not reach the evil extremes of Nazism's violence, Nazism's violence was limited to groups defined by relatively hard boundaries, whereas the anti-Nazi has empowered themselves to forever broaden their definitions, giving their milder violence potentially unlimited scope, so which is worse is a question for debate.

Excellent as always, but I must say something of this comparison:

As civilized men, we do not begrudge man-eating tigers their addiction to human flesh, we shoot them on sight.

Jim Corbett, a famed hunter of man-eaters in British India (and later famed conservationist of Bengal Tigers), did not enjoy killing tigers. He knew it was necessary and that was enough, but he also knew what caused an animal to turn man-eater. Corbett wrote of villagers harvesting tall grass where a tiger might be hidden steps away but be no danger to them, tigers fear man. We killed fear into them.

Corbett knew the man-eater is bad luck and imprudence. The fight with particularly aggressive prey that maims the beast, or the shot that permanently weakens but does not kill, from the poor hunter who fails to track down and follow through. The beast lives, but he can no longer catch his natural prey. Even in desperate hunger he still fears man, for the rest of his however shortened life he might, never turning man-eater. Until for some, all at once they lose their fear. The starving tiger surprised in tall grass whose one swipe is still enough to kill. Then his fear is gone. Then he will continue, sometimes to horrific extents. All because of bad luck, imprudence. Because the man-eater is most often made, not born.