“We know of an ancient radiation
That haunts dismembered constellations”
The re-emergence of the Right in the late 2010s will be viewed as one of most significant developments in Irish politics by future historians. Although afflicted by a myriad of issues – as is typical of nascent political tendencies – the Right today is palpably more advanced than it was at the beginning of the last decade.
In 2010, the Irish Right was a barren wasteland, consisting of aging and increasingly alienated Catholics, scattered and ill-organised Nationalists, and the occasional internet blogger who possessed a diminutive following. Today, the Right is a growing political tendency, composed of dedicated and ideologically-sound individuals, centred around political vehicles such as the National Party.
Adjacent to such forms are an array of podcasters, writers, and thinkers on the Right who provide a topical alternative to mainstream broadsheets and radio stations, as well as a well-articulated intellectual vision that radically contrasts with the rhetoric of contemporary politicians, media-hacks, and sundry others whose livelihood is contingent upon perpetuating NGO-derived lies.
Although it can no longer be asserted that Ireland is bereft of a Rightist political, media, and intellectual alternative, we are transparently lacking in other domains: namely, culture. The Irish Right’s recent cultural output has been minimal, if not non-existent. The only figure who comes to mind is the eccentric fine artist Immanuel Godson; I was impressed by the conceptual foundation underlying his painting of a Roma family on O’Connell street.
The immediate and natural response of the more sensible, boring, and practical types among the Right is to denigrate those who lament this fact as hobbyists: types for whom the spectacle of the Right (and it is undoubtedly a spectacle after its incremental ethical/legal/social prohibition since ’45), rather than the concrete advance of it through electoral victories and other markers of practical success, is conferred greater attention and interest.
Yet the connection between aesthetic cultivation and inactivity is incidental – a rousing aesthetic vision compliments action. Does our history not showcase this? Weren’t Plunkett, Pearse, and McDonagh poetic partisans? Men who inaugurated a romanticist rebellion on Easter Monday. Would Pearse still be read had his written output consisted solely of cogent syllogisms? Or does his persistent aura owe to the eternal appeal of a warrior poet?
Our opposition to the present order and its norms must be multi-faceted. Aesthetics speak to the sub-rational in man. When executed properly, an aesthetic form has the potential to convey a worldview’s essence better than hundreds of exhaustively detailed essays.
We must be cautious to avoid moralising. Proselytising through the avenue of art is an offence against it, and its death when taken to extremes – the phrase “the personal is the political” is an excuse for bad art. Overtly-political culture risks sacrificing culture for the sake of the message. Instead, Right Wing artists ought to be subtle. Their work must touch on themes and motifs that are congruent with our worldview. And their work must avoid appearing to be contrived propaganda; when creating political art, conspicuousness is the enemy.
Regardless of one’s opinion on the artistic merit of Black Metal, as a genre it certainly struck a chord with the youth of Norway in the early 90s, and thus offers a model to emulate. In response to the malaise of Scandinavian Social Democracy, the Norwegian Right didn’t produce a Jordan Peterson; it bore witness to Varg Vikernes, a man whose music elicits the atavism of the desolate pagan north.
A Sci-Fi Novelist from Chi Town put it well: “Vikernes and Burzum became iconic because Vikernes was very cued in to the ‘spirit of the age’ – and his art and ‘propaganda by deed’ gave form to things that were on a lot of young peoples’ minds already. This is why Varg remains culturally relevant and stands as an enigmatic figure who continues to intrigue people.”
Drawing on universal, yet rarely enunciated, negative sentiments regarding modern Ireland that abound our people’s collective zeitgeist, and in turn codifying and crystalising the aforesaid in digestible forms for public consumption is a key means by which the Irish Right can wage a caustic kulturkampf.
Moreover, aesthetics naturally accompany idealism. Our opposition to the present system is not wholly negative. We offer a vision for the future. Our path forward must be conveyed in an aesthetically compelling manner. In forms which capture and transfix the attention of Ireland’s youth.
Whether it is conveyed by music or some other medium, there is a reservoir of discontent among Ireland’s youth which must be drawn upon and channeled. A youth which is desperately longing (knowingly or unknowingly) to be satiated by a forceful and enthralling idealism. To be alleviated from the drudgery of retail work and a dearth of financial prospects — their only momentary reprieve being Netflix, premature heart attacks courtesy of fast food delivered by castizos, and OnlyFans. This must change.
Presently, we put forth endless arguments for our cause, but do we offer the Irish people the vista of the nation we dream of creating?