by Julius Evola

Jul 30, 2024

∙ Paid

Julius Evola criticizes the modern emphasis on activism and constant change, advocating a return to traditional values that balance action with contemplation and spiritual depth.

This article was first published in the magazine Deutsches Volkstum (German Folk Culture) in November 1933.

That “activism” has become a slogan in the “modern” era can hardly be disputed. In theory and practice, action — meaning everything that involves tension, dynamism, becoming, transformation, eternal quest, and inexhaustible movement — is praised and defended. The realm of “principles,” so familiar to the rationalist mindset of the pre-war period, is relentlessly declining, and this decline is even welcomed with joy. Today, we not only witness the triumph of action but also a unique philosophy that serves action. This philosophy strives to justify itself with systematic critique and a strong speculative apparatus, while dismissing values upheld by traditional perspectives with contempt.

Interest in “knowing” is increasingly being replaced with interest in “doing,” or at least by those elements that can be translated from the sphere of knowledge into action and practical realizations. Pure knowledge, traditionally understood as concerning a supra-historical reality, a world beyond time and space, is now scarcely recognized. Modern observation has grown accustomed to overlooking the “being” aspect of things, focusing instead on their aspects of “becoming,” “development,” and “history.”

Thus, “historicism” and “dynamism” align with “activism” to form a unity even at the level of higher cultural forms. In the field of exact sciences, principles that were considered inherently self-evident and unchangeably valid until recently are now regarded as hypothetical assumptions that must be subjected to scrutiny in the context of the evolving process of scientific knowledge. In the view of many, even in the religious sphere, the immutability of dogmas is visibly losing the validity that was attributed to them as reflections of absoluteness and transcendence, as inherent in a truth of a “non-human” character. A distinctly secular exegesis, in collaboration with so-called comparative religious studies and guided by new demands, strives to see in dogmas nothing more than moments in the process of becoming, an “immanent” history of religious needs. In this approach, the most blatant anthropomorphisms are applied without hesitation.

In the field of philosophy, the situation is even clearer. Pragmatism and voluntarism are movements that, despite their different forms, converge into a single guiding principle. This principle translates into speculative justifications that reflect the core aspects of contemporary human existence: its turmoil, obsession with speed, increasing mechanization that shortens every time and space interval, and its convulsive, breathless rhythm. This is particularly evident in America, where it reaches its extreme limits. Here, the theme of activism intensifies to an almost demonic climax, absorbing the entirety of life into a constant, unchecked acceleration, while the focus increasingly shifts toward temporary and transient achievements. In this context, the collective’s dominance becomes overpowering, exerting control over individuals who have been stripped of any traditional grounding, driving them into a restless state that seeks to break all boundaries. Often, impersonal and faceless forces push them towards an ideal of a dehumanized world, devoid of individuality and rooted in a purely mechanical existence.

It is particularly characteristic that modern culture does not merely reflect the activist orientation of life but further intensifies and exaggerates it. This orientation is viewed not just as a fact but as something desirable because it is seen as inherently good. The glorification of activity — often manifesting as irrationality and primitivism — is frequently mistaken for the glorification of life itself, and even for the spirituality of world events. Torn from the sphere of identity, the eternal, and the absolute, the spirit is now understood as “becoming,” “history,” and élan vital, presenting itself in this form as the subject of a new superstitious religion and mysticism.

Today, we have reached a point where those who have not completely forgotten the ancient traditions upon which our true spiritual nobility was based are compelled to pause and carefully reassess the situation from a higher perspective. This task is certainly not easy, as even the meanings of words corresponding to different value systems have almost been lost to most people today. It must be stated that a healthy culture is not possible where the principle of action is not accompanied by the principle of contemplation. For this reason, modern historicist and activist culture, far from representing a higher, privileged cultural form, appears rather as an anomaly, a grotesque creation in its exaggerated one-sidedness. Contrary to many misunderstandings of the concept, in every traditional view, “contemplation” does not mean passivity, escapism, renunciation, or suppression of energy, but rather the strict path where asceticism and inner elevation lead from “life” to “more-than-life,” from sensory-bound existence to a “metaphysical” experience. From this, over-individual principles and insights can be derived that serve as a foundation for realizations and reordering even in the realm of nature bound to death and action itself, which only thus acquire meaning and a higher right.

Our “modern” world recognizes only temporal reality. Any transcendent vision is considered “overcome.” Historicism, which is the reductive consideration of all things under their merely temporal and thus subordinate aspect, claims as a gain what in reality represents nothing more than a dull impoverishment of higher possibilities, as recognized and hierarchically affirmed by every traditional culture. In this way, a world so constructed eventually fails to grasp even the meaning and deeper value of action itself. Indeed, a critique and rebellion against the briefly outlined orientation of the contemporary world are not feasible in the name of standstill at any cost or intellectual-rationalist abstraction, but only in the name of action itself: by demonstrating that the “modern” world knows almost nothing about what real action is. What it claims and praises is only an inferior and subordinate form of action. This is where the confusion and danger lie.

There are different types of actions. A healthy form of activism must be distinguished from an activism that is merely feverish, exalted, and aimless, which, far from demonstrating strength — as the common view suggests — actually indicates only incapacity and powerlessness. Today, it is almost entirely this second, misguided type of activism that we see. Therefore, it is necessary to return to a higher conception that restores balance and halts a process whose destructive consequences are already all too apparent.

The true meaning of the distinction between the natural and intelligible worlds, as understood in classical traditions, has been almost lost. In these teachings, movement was considered the substantial principle of natural things, but only as the “eternal flight of things that are and are not” (Plotinus), representing the inability to achieve completion, self-possession within a boundary and law, and self-realization as a perfect act. The “intelligible” world — kosmos noetos — was not a realm of non-action but one of complete action, opposite to nature’s chaos, being self-sufficient and free from desire or lack.

Those familiar with certain traditional teachings of the Aryan East may be surprised by the assertion that all movement, activity, becoming, and change belong to the passive and feminine principle (symbolized in the “female aspect” of the deity Shakti), while immobility, unchangeability, and identity belong to the positive, masculine solar principle (symbolized in the male deity Shiva or Purusha). Similarly, the true meaning of the phrase, “The wise recognize non-action in action and true action in non-action,” is not evident to most. This phrase does not mean the quietism and nirvana that poorly informed people often attribute to the entire East. Rather, it expresses an awareness of a higher, aristocratic ideal of activity, against which ordinary action is almost relegated to the rank of non-action.

The idea is somewhat similar to what Aristotle meant metaphysically and theologically with his concept of the unmoved mover: what is the cause and actual master of movement does not move itself. It stirs and guides movement, awakens action, but does not act itself, is not “carried away” by the action, and is not action itself. Instead, it is an immovable, thoroughly calm, commanding superiority, from which action emanates and depends. Therefore, its powerful and invisible rule is called “action without action” — wei-wu-wei, a term from the Far East.

In the face of this ideal of controlled action, a person who acts out of momentum, passion, empathy, desires, and restless needs is not a true actor but is acted upon. As paradoxical as this may sound, their action is passive. Compared to the transcendent, higher-ordered, royally cold, purely determining, “unmoving” nature of the “lords of movement,” their action is comparable to the feminine: they move, create, and run, but the reason, the absolute cause of their action, lies outside themselves, just as the woman’s generative initiative for conception lies outside herself.

When we approach the deepest meaning of the activist, dynamic, Bergsonian, and other similar teachings that are popular today, in light of the previously mentioned distinction between the ideal of action and non-action — which can be found in various Western and Eastern expressions — we consistently find that they embody a passive and subordinate form of action. What is praised today is generally nothing more than a blind, instinctive drive to keep moving without knowing why or having the power to be anything other than what one is. It is an inability to control oneself, to create a center within oneself, a boundary, an absolute foundation: action for the sake of action, driven by sheer spontaneity, an immediate and unending necessity, assumed to be the deepest law of life and even of the spirit. Often, it all boils down to a more or less conscious desire to numb and distract oneself, revealing a restlessness or noise that betrays a fear of great silence, inner solitude, and the absolute being of a higher individuality, while at the same time supporting the elevation of humanity against the eternal.

Someone aptly compared the type of movement celebrated by modern civilization to the motion at the edge of a wheel, which becomes faster and more dizzying the further it is from the center. This comparison accurately captures the truth of the matter. Plotinus had already outlined the concept of becoming, which means nothing other than “the eternal flight of non-being entities.” This insight should serve as a solid foundation for a spiritual reaction and restoration.

Against the chaos of modern life and the unleashed diversity of forces it has brought forth, both within the social order and in the increasingly technologically dominated nature, there should be counteracting forces of centrality: asceticism, command power, absolute dominion, absolute individuality, and absolute vision — forces that are harder than ever to find in our current environment. It is a vain hope to think that this deficiency can be remedied as long as the ideal of action, in its dominance, prevails and action is continually confined to a single type of material and “passive” activity, which obeys an external impulse and is directed outward. As long as this remains the only recognized form, and inner action — the secret action that creates not machines, banks, or societies, but rather individuals, ascetics, free beings, masters of their own souls — is not considered true action but rather seen as renunciation, abstraction, or a waste of time, no improvement can be expected.

As long as we continue to see value in actions that are driven by passion, chaotic energy, and the irrational pursuit of constant change — where tension and striving are celebrated, while achieving calm and precise goals is seen as a misfortune or the end of life (as suggested by “romantic” teachings like those of Herder and Schlegel or Oswald Spengler’s “Faustian” worldview) — and as long as we suppress any interest not focused on material goals or on “social” and quantitative achievements instead of qualitative ones, then we are doomed to a relentless and aimless frenzy. This will lead us further away from any sense of central meaning or control, leaving us as mere parts of a massive mechanism, dependent on each other but powerless individually.

We see the American civilization moving towards this goal, as previously mentioned; not very different is the Soviet ideal, which denies any role to the historically dominant individual in favor of promoting the automatic development of the mechanized, all-powerful “collective man.” This makes the technical-activist orientation of the “modern” world absurd once it has buried traditional ideals. Even though the achievements of this civilization cannot be ignored, its truly barbaric, almost Ahrimanic aspect is equally undeniable. The proud temples created by such deeds stand empty of gods; the gods will never descend to them unless there is a decision for a reaction, a reorientation of people of a new generation towards a different worldview.

If the “modern world,” in its passive activism and feverish rush, achieves nothing more than the ultimate consequences of Romanticism (which in many ways represents the final form of Semitic Messianism), then a new balance, which does not extinguish action but integrates and centralizes it, elevating it to a solar activity, can only be achieved through a return to classical experience (in the broader sense of the term). We must recall the “Olympian” component inherent in all great traditions of the radiant Aryan spirituality.

For the romantic person, the “infinite” is the value, and the “limit” is the evil. In contrast, the classical person sees the infinite — apeiron — as evil because it represents the undefined, the chaos that is not yet cosmos: whether within oneself, in the uncontrolled tumult of passions and sensory impressions, or outside oneself, in the undefined becoming of things and beings, which are embedded in the stream of time and “are and are not.” The limit — péras — was seen instead as absolute completion, the rule of ethos over pathos, a sign of power capable of transcending itself, mastering itself, giving itself form and absolute law, thereby approaching the mode of being proper to the “superworld” in ascetic or heroic clarity. For the classical person, the limit is completion, goal, work, the highest type of spirituality, as exemplified by the serene and powerful linearity of the Doric style and symbolically expressed in the solar and astral representations of Aryan myths.

The preceding discussion could only touch upon this extensive topic. Nevertheless, we believe we have indicated the positive reference point against the dangers of modern activism. What we need today is the ideal of a new classicism of action and rule, inspired by a new breakthrough of the supernatural, disciplined by the values of male asceticism and aristocratic superiority over mere “life.” This will slowly cultivate new centers, new qualities, and personalities — new only because they are “traditional” in the deepest and most vital sense of the word — before which, as if by a nearly fateful law of nature, the centerless powers will obediently bow in a better future, those faceless and lightless forces that have been unleashed upon us in these end times.

(translated by Heinrich Matterhorn)