Who can you call on?

“Bare is the back of a man who has no brother” – Viking Proverb

A response I often hear from men when I broach the subject of Tribalism is that they don’t want to live like “savages” in Afghanistan or Africa. This is a common apprehension among conservatives, often bookish men who wax poetic about the value of western civilization. The hilltribes of the Hindu Kush, the clans of the African Horn and the Bedouin of Anbar province all evoke visceral feelings of animosity. These people are our enemies, alien hordes now bent on the invasion of our homelands.

Such men would be perfectly content to live under a nanny state if only it could keep the brown people out. They see the comfort and largesse that accompanies the growth of civilization as the ultimate human achievement and therein lies the problem.

Europeans are largely defenseless against the migrant invasions because they are living in a different world. The Algerians, Somalis, Syrians and Afghans represent a whirlwind of reality puncturing the soft cocoon of European Socialism. They come from the land of natural law, where the strong prey on the weak, and the lonely starve.

Europeans have abandoned their tribal roots in favor of the individualism of the consumer. We are all responsible for ourselves, we can’t be held accountable for the actions of others and they can’t be held accountable for ours. This is possible because we have ceded the responsibility for our well-being to the state.

When a Swedish or German girl is groped in a public square she reports it to the police (if she has the backbone to chance being accused of racism) and the police carry out a halfhearted investigation, possibly identifying a perpetrator and then slap him on the wrist before turning him loose. Cultural differences they say, he didn’t understand what he was doing was wrong.

The state our ancestors created is clearly no longer acting in our interests, and because Europeans bet all their chips on the state they are now defenseless.

Reverse the situation, imagine that an Afghan woman was accosted by some European men. The backlash that would ensue would be immense. Young Afghan men would be in the streets burning cars, throwing stones at police, while their community leaders were demanding more resources and concessions. Public officials would be falling over themselves to denounce the criminals and bending over backwards to accommodate the rioters.

After all, violence gets results.

The difference in the two cases has nothing to with race and everything to do with social organization. One girl has a group of men who consider it a duty to stand up for her, to defend her honor. The other is viewed by her men as just a potential piece of ass, a disposable individual.

Even the state recognizes this power, readily sacrificing the individuals who were its most ardent supporters to bands of more warlike newcomers.

(The state of course hopes to dissolve and absorb these migrants into its atomized mass of consumers, the assumption being that all the peoples of the earth are just yearning to reduce their lives to comfortable materialism.)

I read somewhere that Tribes are to humans as pods are to whales or packs are to wolves. You can laud the values of civilization until you are blue in the face, but the undeniable reality is your civilization doesn’t want you anymore.

Those “savages” you detest can call upon strong networks of people to support them, house them, feed them, fight alongside them.

Who can you call on?

The Strength of the Pack

“Now this is the law of the jungle, as old and as true as the sky,
And the wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the wolf that shall break it must die.
As the creeper that girdles the tree trunk, the law runneth forward and back;
For the strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.”
– Rudyard Kipling

 

A comrade in arms recently asked, “when does a Tribe become a State?” He grasps the inherent problem with our understanding of social assemblage, of what we assume about man as social animal. We must differentiate between a man that would transvalue the state completely and someone who merely hopes to govern a fiefdom. Derelict anthropologist Mark Dyal uses the expression “breaking free together” to illustrate true revolt. Rather than seeking to rule, we recognize the state itself as unsuitable to freedom and seek to leave it behind.

 
Often we hear men talking about building a tribe, who would instead end up manufacturing their own micro state. This is equivalent to an errant bull leading a few cows away from the main herd. He has created a new, smaller herd but the form of life remains the same.

 
Instead let us consider the difference between the social structures of herbivores and carnivores. The herd and the pack. How do these forms of life differ? What does a herd require of its members? a pack?

 
Herds are inclusive panicky groups, policed by rumor and fear, stampeding on the faintest whiff of the predator’s scent. The parallels to modern man and his anxious attention to the news cycle are obvious. The State promotes safety in numbers, growth, quantity, absorption and conformity. It talks of security and abundance. It is not difficult to imagine the bellowing of a herd on the Serengeti and the chattering of crowd in the metropolis to be different dialects of the same language.

 
In contrast, the pack promotes the aggressive initiative of the individual to contribute to the kill. To hold back in a herd is a virtue, to rely on a mask of anonymity is the norm. To the pack it is cowardice, evidence of an instinct for mediocrity that the pack cannot abide.

 
The pack doesn’t seek to subordinate its hunters but to develop them; it seeks to strengthen its members, to hone them to a killing edge. It neither fears critique, nor or seeks to establish legitimacy: Instead its goal is to revel in the thrill of combat, and rejoice in the kill well made.

 
Success in combat requires understanding intent, and exercising initiative. A good fighter grasps the purpose of the task and is able to execute it creatively with minimal oversight. This is the heart of pack dynamics: you associate not to be comforted, but to be challenged. The pack does not ask you to indulge or to consume, it drives you to compete, to transform, to overcome.

 
By harnessing these virulent ethical forces, the pack – and by extension the tribe – maintains a type of sociality that must be actively repressed by the herd – and likewise by its ultimate modern expression, the State.

 
Thus, the tribe becomes the state when it erects walls to defend its sloth. The tribe becomes the state when its instincts turn from creation to preservation, when it talks of morals instead of virtues, doctrine instead of initiative, fairness instead of excellence.

 
The tribe becomes the state when it stops glorifying the hunter and instead elevates the hunted.

No Lamb for the Lazy Wolf

Wake early
if you want
another man’s life or land.
No lamb
for the lazy wolf.
No battle’s won in bed.

– The Havamal

To bourgeois ears the word predator summons images of something frightening, of tooth and claw, of terror and rended flesh. Something to avoid, inciting panic and lamentation. The system assigns the word predator to its bogeymen, creating a dialectic between aggression and placidity and assigning a moral value to each. To be the aggressor, the one willing to initiate violence, no matter the provocation is to assume a burden of guilt.

 
If you stop and think about it the system would have you view the world entirely through the lens of prey. The cultural machine bombards you with talk about bullies and predators, the firearms and martial arts industries speak completely in terms of defense and protection and are still villainized because they dare suggest the possibility of violence, no matter how reluctantly employed.

 
To a soldier of course the opposite is true, no man wants to remain in the defense, to surrender the initiative to your opponent, to wait anxiously at the bottom of a hole for the shot you won’t ever hear.

 
Yet even on the grand scale western armies speak of their campaigns as defensive necessities. The empire will invade a country 10,000 miles away and still frame it as a defensive stroke. Why is it that they must sell themselves on the moral justness of letting their opponent start the fight, throw the first punch, thrust across a border? We know permitting these things puts us on our heels, surrenders the initiative and in the end that is what its all about.

 
The machine, the empire wants you to think of yourselves as prey, prey for all the bogeymen of the world. Sheep after all need a shepherd, someone to fill the trough, to banish the wolves. Who does the wolf need but his pack? The lion his pride? Thus to cultivate a need within you for their intrusions they cast you perpetually as a victim. Picture a watering hole on the Serengeti, what does the Gazelle see? hear? what does it smell? Danger, danger behind every blade of grass. What does the lion see at the same hole? Nothing but opportunity.

 
There is no greater feeling in the world than surprising an enemy, than having him so thoroughly outmatched that he is unable to react to your attack. I used to describe a successful attack to my soldiers as “clubbing a baby seal”, a leopard or wolf would grasp the concept immediately. You deliberately maneuver into position, hopefully without your opponent knowing, and deliver a killing strike before he can react.

 
I remember seasoned grunts in Iraq lamenting AQI tactics, the word coward was tossed around a lot, but it was our friends prostrate in the dirt. What did we see in the roadside pile of trash? What did Muj see?

 
If you want to break free, to shape your destiny then you must transform yourself. You cannot afford to think like a wildebeest, always lamenting the lions appetite. Fighting men think like hunters, like stalkers, like predators, they see life in terms of challenge and opportunity rather than circumstance. Banish any kinship to victim-hood, drive it from yourself, eradicate it, strike pity and fairness from your hearts, the world will offer you none.

A Life Beyond the Pale

In 15th-16th Century “the Pale” referred to the cluster of settlements on the east coast of Ireland where Anglicized settlers lived under feudal law, turbulent tribalism having been pushed a side for a more stable, hereditary and autocratic rule. Beyond this small relatively tame region or “beyond the pale” roamed the native Gaels, the “Wylde Irish” as they were oft referred. The Irish were known to be warlike tribalists and eager raiders, true only to their Clan and to the obligations of the feud, disdaining rules imposed to ensure steady production and lucrative taxation. The Pale represented a boundary between those subservient men who were willing to accept domestication in order to achieve stability and the virile wild-men beyond.

Today the expression “beyond the pale” has come to describe some transgression of the norm, an abhorrent departure from an approved action or discourse. Nothing is more abhorrent to those inside the pale then a tendency towards violence.
Two instinctual currents run through a man of violence, the one that hungers for the euphoric aftermath of a raid, the acrid taste in the air crossing a breached metal gate or the agonizing anticipation of an ambush. The other almost simultaneous pull is for the comfort of a dry bed and a hot shower, for the permissive lethargy of the civilian. It is at the point where these two paths collide that the Pale becomes knowable. What do these dueling instincts serve? What potential do they create? Which is permissive? Which is transgressive?

Admitting that you enjoy combat will almost certainly land you outside the bounds of polite society today, just as it did for the Gaels who preferred the thrill of the cattle raid to the surety of the barley harvest. Having crossed the pale once, even in its defense a man is no longer the same, he has tasted the impermissible. Frightened, some seek only a return to the comfort and security of the Pale, others however wonder what opportunity lies beyond.

The Pale then is not a solid boundary, but a frontier that can be navigated by a special breed of man. For that man only a life lived beyond the pale offers any hope of fulfillment.
To that man the proffered advantages of leisure, safety and predictability conjure only images of stagnation, atrophy and death. That man must risk, strive and struggle against the limitations created within and without. The pale exists anywhere the instincts towards freedom and obedience collide, it is there that his battle is won or lost. If that man wishes to escape he must be willing and able to transgress limits, to roam beyond the boundaries of empire, to revel in a collision of instincts that could destroy him…or set him free.