There is so much injustice in the world, yet people seem utterly oblivious to it. The prophet cried out: "Blessed shall he be who takes your little ones and dashes them against the rock!" Yet it was of no use. The prophet is a fellah intellectual. It is not intellectuals who purge wickedness.
Buddhism says to seek within, and that suffices — but this too is of no use. Nāgārjuna's ethical fervor has long since dissipated; whether Mahāyāna or Hīnayāna, all are concerned only with their own liberation.
And yet, I too lack the strength to raise the blade.
The blade — not in the literal sense, of course — what is it, then? One must approach it from the reverse side of the blade.
Reality is a stifling, viscous fluid that envelops everyone, suffocating, concealing evil under the name of the everyday, letting all things slowly rot within it. The blade possesses the power to slice through this fluid. This power overcomes all illusions and artificial constructions, just as a diamond penetrates all things.
Schmitt says: one must decide. We must believe that in raising the blade, man becomes an authentic life.
Those who raised the blade in the past have become history. Muhammad receiving the command "You shall recite!"; Cromwell at Marston Moor; Zhang Xianzhong in Chengdu; Mao waving to the young Red Guards atop the Tiananmen Square; Tyler Durden blowing up his own apartment. This posture of authentic life — this is the God of monotheism; for Nietzsche, it is the will to power. Without this vitality, nothing can be accomplished.
Judaism, from the grand majesty of Genesis and Exodus, with its leader Joshua and warrior Samson, and Jehu — who cleansed the sins of Ahab's dynasty with the blade (his name meaning: "He is Yahweh") — ultimately degenerated into the prophets and Jesus. Jesus could not raise the blade: at first he told his disciples to sell their garments and buy a sword, yet when he was arrested and the disciples resisted, he stopped them. This is the corruption and weakness of the priest morality that Nietzsche spoke of.
Those who play with language and symbols — what are they, compared to the warrior who raises the blade?
The blade is "Let there be light." Mishima's Sun and Steel; the sun that Isao sees at the moment of seppuku in Runaway Horses — that is this light. Then: seeing that the light is good, it seperates light from darkness. In mythological terms, it is to forcefully carve out a patch of order within chaos, according to one's own will.
Buddhism says to seek within, and that suffices — but this too is of no use. Nāgārjuna's ethical fervor has long since dissipated; whether Mahāyāna or Hīnayāna, all are concerned only with their own liberation.
And yet, I too lack the strength to raise the blade.
The blade — not in the literal sense, of course — what is it, then? One must approach it from the reverse side of the blade.
Reality is a stifling, viscous fluid that envelops everyone, suffocating, concealing evil under the name of the everyday, letting all things slowly rot within it. The blade possesses the power to slice through this fluid. This power overcomes all illusions and artificial constructions, just as a diamond penetrates all things.
Schmitt says: one must decide. We must believe that in raising the blade, man becomes an authentic life.
Those who raised the blade in the past have become history. Muhammad receiving the command "You shall recite!"; Cromwell at Marston Moor; Zhang Xianzhong in Chengdu; Mao waving to the young Red Guards atop the Tiananmen Square; Tyler Durden blowing up his own apartment. This posture of authentic life — this is the God of monotheism; for Nietzsche, it is the will to power. Without this vitality, nothing can be accomplished.
Judaism, from the grand majesty of Genesis and Exodus, with its leader Joshua and warrior Samson, and Jehu — who cleansed the sins of Ahab's dynasty with the blade (his name meaning: "He is Yahweh") — ultimately degenerated into the prophets and Jesus. Jesus could not raise the blade: at first he told his disciples to sell their garments and buy a sword, yet when he was arrested and the disciples resisted, he stopped them. This is the corruption and weakness of the priest morality that Nietzsche spoke of.
Those who play with language and symbols — what are they, compared to the warrior who raises the blade?
The blade is "Let there be light." Mishima's Sun and Steel; the sun that Isao sees at the moment of seppuku in Runaway Horses — that is this light. Then: seeing that the light is good, it seperates light from darkness. In mythological terms, it is to forcefully carve out a patch of order within chaos, according to one's own will.
