From Bismarck and Metternich to Mussolini, Hitler, and Codreanu, we know that Julius Evola interested himself in the thought and work of the great politicians of modern history, and sought, without subservience, to evaluate them by the standards of the founding and formative principles of Indo-European civilisation, in the perspective of the restoration of the traditional order in Europe; it was therefore essentially from a spiritual point of view that he examined their thought and behaviour. Each one of them attempted to fight and to render ineffective the two principal subversive instruments of Judaism in the modern world: speculative capitalism and socialism-communism, which are but the two faces of the same coin, since both are founded upon an exclusively economical vision of human life, which is accompanied by a will to destroy politics as such as well as the State. Now that the State is no more, in reality, than a mafia-like private enterprise managed in a mediocre manner by men of straw, and politics has been replaced by economics – thus, the State is no more than a mere simulacrum – it is appropriate to turn with Julius Evola to a little-known Russian politician, forgotten by history, whose political programme could have averted the Bolshevik Revolution and the subsequent coming to power of Communism in Russia and elsewhere: Stolypin, prime minister of Nicolas II from 1906 to 1911: ‘a victim of Israel’. (This article appeared, signed ‘Julius Evola’, in La Vita Italiana in January 1939).
Specialists in the recent history of Europe have an irritating mania for considering Bolshevism more or less as a phenomenon en soi, not just in the sense that they ignore its immediate ideological antecedents, namely the First and Second Internationals, but, above all, in the sense that they fail to study the historical and social Russian milieu which made the revolution possible; and, in addition, because they fail to examine the secret influences or ‘indirect powers’ which cultivated the projects of a subversive minority by placing at its disposal a combination of specific circumstances.
We shall not dwell on this latter point here, since we are reluctant to repeat things well-known to attentive readers of Vita Italiana, such as the concerted secret campaigns against Tsarist Russia, which were conducted from a given moment onwards by Judeo-American high finance and by certain mysterious English circles allied to the Intelligence Service (1); the subventions directed to the Bolsheviks by the Schiff-Warburg consortium through the mediation of Trotsky; the influence which obscure representatives of global subversion such as the stateless Jew, Parvus-Helphand (Goldfandt), were able to exert upon certain German circles infatuated with themselves, by exploiting their short-sighted Machiavellian tendencies; the contributions to the disorganisation of the Russian army made by the ‘accidental’ defaults of various suppliers of war materiel at given moments; and so on.
We should prefer rather to regard as the antecedents of the Russian revolution the situation which made it possible, by providing a terrain capable of receiving and allowing to flourish the evil seeds of communism. To illustrate this, we should like to talk about an almost forgotten Russian political personality, who, if the bullet of a Jew had not brought his existence to a premature end, would indubitably have been able to direct the history of his country into a direction different from the one that it took, and to prevent the revolution from destroying it. We speak of Stolypin, prime minister of Russia from June 1906 until September 1911, who received almost dictatorial powers from Nicolas II. Count Malynski, in a recent work, has shown us the significance of Stolypin in his own day, while presenting a lucid synthesis of the precedents of the Russian revolution, of which we believe it will be interesting to present the principal points here. (2)
Two events practically determined the end of the Russian dynasty and of the empire. The first was the emancipation of the serfs by Alexander II; the second was the industrialisation of the empire by Alexander III.
Before the time of Alexander II, the Russian social system was more or less medieval. The land belonged essentially to the great noble families and the great proprietors, and the rural populace which lived upon the land was entirely dependent upon these. Alexander II ‘emancipated’ this rural element, which is to say that he tore them from the land and turned them into a mass of nomadic outcasts. Much land was placed at the disposal of ‘rural communes’ – the mir – to be farmed collectively: this land belonged to no one, and its labour force was employed now in one capacity and now in another, and, to get to the root of the matter, was more exploited and worse paid than it had been under the preceding regime. Under that regime, the peasant was at least tied to a definite land, that of his master, and he knew that he worked for a definite person, and was often proud of this fact. Once he became ‘free’, he was in effect transformed into a proletarian, a pure automatic instrument of labour. This was the real result, under Alexander II, of the ‘noble and generous liberal ideas’, and in fact this ‘reform’, and this sovereign, were hailed with frenetic applause by the democratic European press of the time.
The situation became even worse under Alexander III. It was this sovereign who undertook the artificial and corrupting industrialisation of Russia. No attempt was made to exploit in an organic manner, to the extent that the means existed to do this, the natural resources of Russia; instead, these resources were placed at the disposal of foreign capital, thus encouraging a mode of production designed to bring profit solely to an omnipotent capitalism and to enrich a new class of profiteers, thus in turn inducing more and more proletarian opposition. One must recognise that the Tsarist regime did not wish to arrive at this outcome, but was pushed into it. This industrialisation of Russia, fatal to the preceding patriarchal regime and destructive of the very ethical fibre of the upper classes, from whom the power of gold gradually removed all real privileges, was dictated by political factors. The capital sums were largely provided by France, with the aim of strengthening Russia and converting it into an ally in the event of a new war against Germany, and of the revanche which was awaited with impatience. Since it depended solely on funds of foreign origin, industry was deprived of a natural basis which would have nourished the people and would have provided them, without intermediaries and speculators, with the means to sustain their life. As a result of this, those who worked had as little access to the means of subsistence necessary for themselves, or for others, as had those who gave the work to them. The relationships between men had changed. The old, organic, and spiritual relationships were replaced with relationships based entirely on money and eventually reduced themselves to the opposition between those with full stomachs and those with empty ones. The Russian soil reached such a pitch of materialistic degradation that it was ready as few others were for the subversive ferment of the Marxist ideology and class war, since this was one of those rare countries where the process had been so rapid that the Russian peasant, like Russia in general, knew no middle way, no wise compromise, and passed from one extreme to the other. Freed from a rigorous and insensitive patriarchal system of obedience, he was able to become a complete anarchist.
It was thus that the revolutionary movement began to appear in Russia: naturally, not in a purely spontaneous fashion, but as the result of the action of subversive forces. One often recalls the tragic events of 1905 and 1906, but, at the time, these phenomena were extremely limited. The effects of age-old patriarchal habits could not disappear overnight, and a great part of the Russian people, in spite of what the international press would lead one to believe, in spite of their manifest social misery, remained immune to the virus which was beginning to be spread by the band of the revolutionary energumens.
The danger could still have been averted, and in fact Stolypin seemed to be the man sent by Providence to rescue everything. Appointed governor of a province in which peasant rebellion was particularly acute, he showed such qualities that he immediately became singled out for attention, and, with the dissolution of the Duma, was appointed prime minister of the empire. Stolypin set himself the task of discovering the real causes of the revolutionary phenomenon and removing them by means of policies which were helpful and constructive rather than repressive.
This is why, in order to grasp the real situation, he did not rely upon the programmes and libels fabricated by the demagogues lying in ambush who claimed to express ‘the sufferings of the people athirst for freedom’: he gained his information directly from the people, who were not for him ‘a Myth with a capital M’, but a sum of real individuals. From the mouths of the Russian people, with whom he had been in contact since his childhood, he obtained always and everywhere the same response. On this subject, it is informative to listen to the report of his daughter, Alexandra Stolypin : ‘It’s true, said the peasants, it’s perfectly true that pillage and destruction do no one any good at all.’ When asked why, in that case, they did it anyway, one of them said, to the approval of his companions, ‘All I want is a document from the government which will make me and my family into owners of a plot of land. I can pay for it a bit at a time, because, thanks be to God, there are workers in our family; but, as things are right now, what’s the good of working? We love the land, and we try to farm it as well as we can, and they take this land, to which we have given our heart and soul, and give it to someone else, and the next year, the commune sends us to work somewhere else. What I am telling your excellency is true and many of my companions will agree with me: what’s the good of tiring oneself out on it?’
Alexandra Stolypin added: ‘My father listened to all this with infinite compassion. Poor Russia, reduced to woodlands and fields of stubble, he often said. In his mind he saw the busy farms of neighbouring Germany, where a calm and tenacious people accumulated, in territories of dimensions infinitely tinier than those of our vast plains, more and more substantial harvests and savings which they were able to pass on from father to son. Turning his mental gaze to the Urals, he traversed in his imagination the long road of deportation which crossed this Russian Asiatic empire, where, in unturned soil, all the treasure which a bountiful nature could offer slept an age-long sleep.’
Malynski said accurately that these words confirmed the whole origin of the Russian cataclysm. This was in fact the basis of the rising tide of revolutionary agitation: exasperation borne of poverty. This is the cause of all the revolutions of history, and, even in those classified as being of religious origin, the motive of faith is generally merely that which lights the fuse, it is not the combustible material without which the conflagration could not spread. The primary cause of the popular agitation in Russia was the hopeless situation of a mass which had to live from what it sowed and reaped, without knowing where it was to do so, because of the ‘emancipation’ of the serfs, and the proletarianisation of the rest in the ranks of a faceless industrial system which refrained assiduously from increasing the salaries, which were still at the level of those of the pre-capitalist epoch, to reflect the fabulous profits which built up the new fortunes.
Stolypin was the only man to see these causes clearly and to divine the true remedy. A feudal by birth and education, he was drawn to a new and paradoxical task: to create from a well understood and general feudalism a resolutely ‘revolutionary’ principle able to out-perform both capitalism and socialism. To this end Stolypin essayed a fundamental reform of Russian affairs, devoting all his powers to the project.
On November 9th, 1906, he presented and caused to be promulgated his new Agrarian Law, which inaugurated private property in land. By virtue of this Law, every peasant could leave his Commune and acquire a parcel of land on credit, or in return for whatever sum of money he possessed, the Imperial Treasury covering the difference between this and the amount necessary. Some of the land disposed of belonged to the state, and some was acquired by it at a low price from those willing to sell. As a result of this Law, half a million family heads took almost immediate possession of around four million hectares of land.
This was the first point of Stolypin’s programme. This was, we might add, the most urgent measure, designed to palliate the ever-increasing revolutionary agitation and to bring about at least relative tranquility, which was necessary for the next phase of the plan. This second phase had as its aim the bringing into the system of the almost virgin lands of the Asiatic and Oriental parts of the empire, not in a capitalist context but in that of a closed national economy, a real autarchy which would develop on the model of the feudal system. However, to reach this point, it was necessary first to resolve the problem of communication. Here, therefore, Stolypin began the construction of the Southern Trans-Siberian Railway.
There was already one Trans-Siberian Railway, which had been constructed at the initiative of Witte; it demonstrated strikingly the capitalistic preconceptions of this minister. In fact, it had been laid out quite patently with the purpose of connecting Europe and the most populated part of Russia to the Far East, in the service of the Oriental interests of the great financiers of Paris, London, and Berlin: it made absolutely no contribution to the need for access to the most fertile regions of Russia, most appropriate for internal colonisation. However, this latter was by contrast the dominant aim of the Southern Trans-Siberian Railway as envisaged by Stolypin. His hope was to transplant eastwards the centre of gravity of the Russian work-force. From this would result the destruction of the tyranny of capitalism, and the birth of a system of balanced change producing an industry devoted to real needs and not to the multiplication of anonymous or foreign capital sums bound only to precipitate it into excessive and disorderly economic activity.
Malynski wrote: ‘In 1895, after three hundred years of Russian control, Siberia, larger in extent than the whole of Europe, had four million inhabitants, of whom some were deportees. Between 1895 and 1907, that is, between the inauguration of the first Trans-Siberian Railway and the coming to power of Stolypin, this population grew by a million and a half. But, in the following three years, under Stolypin, it increased by another two million, even before the new railway had been built. Everything leads us to think that, given the fact of the new railway, and given that the government should have devoted all its effort to overcoming the age-long inertia of the Russian people, the population of Siberia could have risen to thirty or forty million between 1920 and 1930. And this would not have been thirty or forty million pallid proletarians in search of an uncertain salary, but thirty or forty million comfortable and prosperous small proprietors, men happy to be alive, with assured futures, contented with their lot, as economically independent as it is possible to be, who would have made up a formidable brake on revolutionary impulses: a conservative and even reactionary force like none possessed by any other country anywhere in the world.’
Naturally, these small proprietors would have had to coexist with larger ones, who would have provided a sort of centre of gravity and could have developed new and autonomous forms of industry, excluding middlemen and foreign elements, so eventually forming a system of trusts in both the horizontal and the vertical dimensions. Unlike capitalist industrialism, this would be rigorously based upon private property, upon the substantial reality of values, and upon the stability of an entirely mutual credit system, debts within which would be amortised within a closed circuit and would be realised by the reciprocity of personal labour in the service and productive sectors. The day on which this scheme came to fruition, the superiority of the system based on private property to the system of anonymous capitalism, which dissolves all substantial values into a sort of fluid, anodyne, and ambiguous form, would be demonstrated, and it would cast an unflattering light upon our epoch, in which it is supposed that there are no alternatives for humanity other than Jewish Communism and Israelitish Capitalism, these two formulas which converge upon depersonalisation and levelling.
As Malynski adds, the sort of crisis from which a good part of our world currently suffers, a paradoxical crisis of over-production, would be unimaginable under a system of property articulated in the manner described above, and envisaged by Stolypin. Under such a system, a crisis of that sort would become a blessing from heaven. When capitalism brings it about that super-abundance results in misery and only credit brings good fortune, one may say that capitalism is itself discredited and condemned. Unfortunately, the only interest which seems to gain any profit from this absurd state of affairs, usually, is socialism, which is itself nothing but capitalism squared.
At the end of the 19th century, one man proposed another solution, and even began to apply it: Stolypin. Many factors facilitated his work. In the first place, the possibilities of the Russian land were such as to make autarchy a viable proposition for the empire. In the second, the force of its ancient traditions was still such as to preserve alive the feeling that, between a small proprietor and a king, between a hereditary plot and an entire realm, there was no greater difference than one of degree upon one and the same scale of values, which was not material, but, above all, spiritual. Finally, there was the unspoilt nature of the Russian rural class, loyal and obedient, uncontaminated by the capitalist mentality which was as yet unknown and alien to it, all this being prior to the more recent and unpleasant examples thereof. Stolypin could therefore have attained his goal, and made of chaotic and restless Russia a masterpiece of a hitherto unknown type.
However, to arrive at this point, it would have been necessary ‘to cut the grass beneath the feet of Israel’, to preempt the manoeuvrings of the ‘chosen people’ at the two strategic points of their modern offensive: capitalism and socialism. And this is why, despite never having manifested any particular hostility towards the Jews, Stolypin became their ‘bête noire’; the international press, which they supported with their subventions, began to depict him as a tyrant, as a bloodthirsty beast, and as an oppressor; even though, as a great feudalist, he was in fact an incomparable liberal, creating innumerable free proprietors, and thus so many liberties, and seeking nothing but to save his country, as was then still quite possible, from the domination of anonymous and homeless finance. Under Stolypin, contrarily to what had occurred in other times, there were no pogroms in Russia. However, if Stolypin did not persecute any Jews as individuals, he threatened to do to them collectively more harm than if he had had several tens of thousands of them exterminated in cold blood. In fact, it was obvious to them that, by his policies, he intended to make impossible their parasitic existence and to destroy whatever it was that made Russia serviceable to the Jewish Financial International, and also to make impossible the subversive manoeuvrings of the Jewish Socialist International. The Jews, who could not see how to live otherwise, and did not want to live otherwise, in Russia, had before them only the sad prospect of leaving, of emigrating. Thus it came about that the Jews of Russia never requested more passports, principally with a view to emigration to the United States, the promised land of capitalism, than under Stolypin. The government, naturally enough, made no bones about delivering these passports, and Stolypin certainly did much to augment the populations of the ghettos of the American and European metropoli. As Malynski well expressed it, the wretches fled Russia, the new Egypt, even without being forced under the lash to construct any pyramids there.
But this could not last for long. The chiefs of the secret front of global subversion only needed to reach some understanding amongst themselves in order to ‘écraser l’infâme’. Israel, as is well known, does not forgive: ‘He who harms Israel shall know neither peace nor rest’, as their tradition puts it. To allow the suppression, in a single coup, of both capitalism simple and capitalism squared – the state capitalism which was to have been built after communist collectivism had destroyed everything – would be really too much; and this was not a matter of some little state, but of Russia, the size, by herself, of a continent.
To those who accuse us of ‘hallucinations of world conspiracy’; (3), we shall say that it was not by chance that, one fine day, Stolypin’s villa was reduced to cinders by a bomb thrown by Jews disguised as officials. A hundred innocent lives were lost, and, though the minister escaped harm, his children were crippled. Following this, the plots multiplied, though all were forestalled by the police. Finally, one day, the irreparable occurred. In September 1911 in Kiev, as he was leaving a gala event at the opera, a policeman supervising the scene approached Stolypin without attracting his attention and fired his revolver into him. The policeman was, as it happens, a Jew (4).
Stolypin died a few days later. No more importance was attached to his murder in Europe than to any other apparently similar outrage: ‘That’s the way things are in Russia’, was the general response. However, in reality, anyone who takes account of the chain of causes and effects will see that this was an irreparable misfortune. As Malynski justly says, from the historical point of view, this was not merely a government minister who was cut down by a Jewish bullet, this was the entire possibility of a great and strong future Russia which was destroyed, since it is quite apparent that there was no one of sufficient stature to take on the mantle of Stolypin, and to continue his work with the same clarity and determination. Had Stolypin lived, the revolution could quite probably have been foreseen and averted, even despite the war, but ‘destiny’ (a word which is synonymous here with occult conspiracy) decided otherwise. Nicolas II, signing his abdication, reportedly said: ‘If Stolypin had been here, this would not have happened.’
The fact that, despite twenty years of Bolshevism, some traces of Stolypin’s anti-socialist and anti-capitalist reforms still remain, show what they could have meant for Russia’s future, if they had been realised. The forces which have succeeded in destroying, within Russia, the empire, the dynasty, the nobility, and the traditional social order, have not yet succeeded in destroying the obstacle to their plans comprised by the remaining relatively comfortable peasantry of private property, free upon their own land: these millions of men whom Stolypin set free from the slavery of the rural Communes and made into independent proprietors during the realisation of the first phase of his programme. They still resist communism with tenacity and they nourish a profound sentiment of revolt against the Judeo-Soviet dictatorship which forces them to live under miserable conditions; and this sentiment will gain its rewards. Malynski says: ‘We are observing an interesting spectacle. It is easier to bring to nothing centuries of history than it is to destroy the recent work of one single man, who was only in power for four years. If the most important attempt at collectivisation in all history fails, then the shade of the great feudal creator, whose name history has already practically forgotten a mere forty years after his death, will have triumphed. Bolshevism has defeated the living easily enough, but this dead man, whom a Jewish bullet cannot kill a second time, is their real danger. This is the best funeral oration which can be pronounced upon this minister of Nicolas II, and history pronounces it on our behalf, before his forgotten tomb.’
We believe that it has not been uninteresting to bring to the attention of our readers this episode in the Occult War, so important and so little known, if only because Stolypin is the symbol of a path, the traditional path. In the spiritual and ethical order, as in the material and economic order, for everyone who seeks to treat the problems of the land and of property in it, this is the sole path to follow in search of real reconstruction; and it is, by the same token, the one which the secret front of global subversion has tried, tries now, and will try in the future, by every means, direct or indirect, to render unrealisable.
(1) According to the testimony of Princess Palev, Lloyd George, on being informed of the first Russian revolution and of the abdication of the Tsar, exclaimed: ‘One of the purposes of England in this war has been attained.’ The Tsar had already had occasion to protest to the British government that the residence of Lord Buchanan, the British ambassador, had been used as a rendezvous by the revolutionaries who went on to form the provisional government, but in vain. In the end, Britain, which had seen fit to provide Abyssinia with a warship to evacuate the Negus, found some pretext for refusing the Tsar, the father of the King of England, the assistance which would have allowed him to leave Russia under the protection of the British flag and thus to escape the easily foreseeable fate which awaited him.
(2) It makes up Chapters XVI and XVII of La Guerre occulte, which was written by Malynski in collaboration with Vicomte Léon de Poncins, and it is on this book that we are basing ourselves here. This book, which is especially important for those who wish to penetrate beneath the surface of the historical events which occurred from the time of the Holy Alliance to that of Bolshevism, is shortly to be published in an Italian translation by the publisher Hoepli.
(3) The expression is de Poncins’, in La Mystérieuse Internationale Juive, Editions Beauchesne, Paris. (N.D.T.)
(4) We must emphasise the fact that Lenin, in a manner typical of him, described this outrage as ‘the putting to death of hangman-in-chief Stolypin’ (Works, Volume XVII, ‘Stolypin and the Revolution’, December 1910 – April 1912). (N.D.T.)