Construction work is never glamorous work. My mother, who grew up in a very poor area, and wanted to marry up, early on excised construction workers from her list of potentials, because they “get so dirty.”
I grew up in and around construction sites nonethless. One of my grandfathers was a “historical restauration” carpenter. It’s like this, the castles and monuments stay on, because they’re made of stone, but the bits made of wood rot away with time. He was one of the few people who knew how to replace them, in the proper medieval (or whatever) way. Yeah, he was usually foreman, but you get the point.
My other grandfather (dad’s dad) was a cabinet maker. And because I tended to haunt his workshop and follow him everywhere, and because though retired, he took odd jobs, often “in exchange” I used to follow him on those jobs, and be his “boy.”
More importantly, my parents, who both abhor debt, had saved most of their married life (I was born almost ten years in) and for most of my early life to build a house. Building that house, which has foundations like a castle, took years, and we visited the site often. Improving the house took even longer, till about when I got married.
So there were construction workers around all the time, doing this and that and the other thing. And because of we were, construction workers weren’t just people brought in. They were usually friends of one or the other grandfather, someone they’d worked with at some place or other, or sons of friends, or some other connection. So they’d eat with us, and I’d follow them around to see what they were doing, and how they were doing it.
This is good, because I find that in a way my destiny was to be a construction worker.
Yeah. Hush now. Some of it literal (I’ve rebuilt two Victorians from the ground up almost.) but some….
If you go to New York City or another old place, where there isn’t much room (Lisbon and London even more so, or Paris) you get the impression the city is simultaneously being built and torn down. And if you’re a construction worker in a country with lots of history you learn mostly what the new things are built on is old things. (You learn really quick not to say anything, too. The big modern cow shed and milking works in the village are built atop a Roman cemetery (which means our house half a mile way, would probably be outside the Roman walls, but then I suspect that, because the whole village is called “farm” and I suspect htat’s what it was.) And they found Richard III under a parking lot in England. (Bet you someone knew too, and shoveled and shut up.)
Western civilization is a very old philosophical space, and mostly what it’s built on is the ruins of itself. Greeks and Romans, Medieval monks, the renaissance, all have added bulwarks of philosophy, machinery of commerce, foundations of technology. In the age of empires we found we weren’t necessarily all that advanced compared to other races/civilizations, but our foundations ran deeper. We had records. (Okay, India and China had deep foundations and records too, but most of it was devoted to metaphorically speaking autophagy. We are to an extent starting that road now, which is why this is important.)
And then came Marxism.
There is always a certain amount of wrecking and pruning that goes on into a living civilization. Again, like building in those old cities, stuff gets cleared away, and new stuff built. The renaissance was an orgy of such tearing down and building. The romantics got a little silly with it. But this is normal. It’s like your brain pruning its own slower pathways, to let others take over.
Then came Marxism.
Marxism is a uniquely wrecking philosophy, because it’s not a philosophy. Not really. It’s a religion masquerading as a political theory. It has its version of Eden (that pre-capitalist pre-history that never exist but which they believe in anyway), its version of original sin corrupting the world (this is why madness can’t be madness in capitalist countries. It’s just the effects of capitalism corrupting human minds. And why opposing communism is ipso facto madness, because you know, sane people want to be communists) and its unbreakable certainty in the great redemption and utopia of a communist future, which is inevitable as far as they’re concerned.
So, anything they do to bring about this wonderful future is justified, which is why they went ahead happily breaking eggs, though no one has yet seen an omelet cooked by the left, and also why, as in Islam, any amount of personal dishonesty and evil is forgivable if the ends justify the means.
This makes it uniquely dangerous, because they will stab anyone in the back, run anyone from an industry they wish to invade, and promote any no-talent or incompetent, in any industry, in order to have the right ideological color to bring about their big utopian culmination of their Marxist exegesis. And they’ll KNOW while doing it that they’re GOOD people and everyone who opposes them is evil.
This would be bad enough and destructive enough. Like the romantics, but insane.
But on top of that, they can’t build. They just can’t. Their philosophy doesn’t match reality enough to allow a build. Their fundamental misunderstanding of human nature makes it impossible to create anything that stands.
They might SEEM to build quickly (though mostly they take over quickly) because of their ruthlessness, but it’s much like Lucia Benedetti’s describing a house built with excrement instead of cement to bind the stones. You don’t have to mix it, and it dries quickly, and for a while it seems to rise very quickly. But inevitably the smell gets to you and excrement can’t hold anything, so it falls.
Which we’ve seen, over and over, and over again. Foundations resting on corpses and destruction (either in reality or philosophically) doesn’t help either.
And then there’s the fact that in this current century they know that. We know that, they know that. They know their lovely vision isn’t materializing and can’t materialize in reality.
This is not admitted, of course, but it’s there, at the root of their frustration, their anger, their hatred of anyone happy and successful, and of anything that allows western countries to succeed.
They’re like the pruning mechanisms of the brain set on insane automatic, and turning on the brain of civilization itself.
And like those, the result is pathological destruction and forgetfulness. It is also — almost in revenge — a nostalgie de la bue, a cultural longing for all that is deranged, destructive, primitive, low. (Part of this they inherited from the romantics, but it’s now set on 11.)
My medical friends tell me that every human body throws out cancers every day. Mostly our immune systems take care of those cancers, before they hit the radar. I’m at a uniquely high risk of it because my immune system is deranged, and attacks good stuff, while ignoring the cancer. …. most of Europe is at the same risk, and we’re not perfect, ourselves.
There is only one thing we can do to save the greatest civilization the world has ever known, the one that has saved most people from abject poverty and allowed us to raise our eyes to the stars and think of escaping earth: build.
Most of us — and I’m half a century old — were already taught faulty foundations. It’s been chic and enlightened to run down your own civilization and turn kids into oikophobes, because comparing ourselves unfavorably to places that still practice slavery or where women are chattel is supposed to make children feel superior to those ancestors who could actually build things. You know, sure, the founding fathers were intellectual giants bestriding the world, but every millenial knows they were slave-owners, and so the millenial can feel superior, without ever doing a lick of work or thought. (They aren’t taught anything else but this unearned superiority — not unless their parents are crazy as I’ll admit to being, and challenge them constantly from five years of age on — which is why they can’t stand discussion. Their entire superiority rests on “having the right opinions” but they don’t know why those opinions are right, or even what other opinions are possible. They just live in fear of changing their minds, or even doubting, and hence falling from grace.)
It was already that way in my day, and it wasn’t until I dared question and started to learn that I became capable of discussion and of understand. And of building.
Most of us, here, under sixty, probably had the same faulty education.
Whatever you do, wherever you are, the only antidote to Marxism in all its poisonous versions, from soft socialism to oikophobic poison, is to learn. To learn and to build. To build solidly on the intellectual and moral foundations of the past before the cancerous growth.
It’s a lot of work. It’s not glamorous. Most of it is small no one will know you did it. Improve a little thing here, connect a little thing there. Teach the young. Laugh at the absurd preening of the wreckers who can’t build.
The world will probably forget us, but if we win — and we will win! — our grandchildren will be able to build on with western civilization.
Learn, do, build. In every facet of life, where you’re called, learn how to do it properly. This might be me learning the lost art of ironing clothes, or the even more lost art of cooking from scratch, or teaching myself Latin and Greek so I can read primary sources. Or it might be just figuring out how business is supposed to work, really work. It might be learning technology, it might be learning classic story telling, it might be learning plumbing or how to create a brick wall.
Go back before everything go corrupted, and learn. Learn to build.
And in every place you have a choice, choose building. Choose life. Choose creation over destruction. The only exception to this is dismantling the machinery of despondence and destruction, including the ridiculous belief that humans are bad and a plague on the world. (Compared to what? If we go to the stars, we’ll be the biome’s salvation, their cause of expansion.)
And build. Build. Build. Build knowledge, build friendships, build businesses, build structures.
It’s dirty and sweaty work, and you’ll go home smelly and tired.
But the west might be saved by it. And the individualists of the Earth with it. And we might yet conquer the stars.
We build. Remember that and go do. Be not afraid.