Out of all the sacred ideals of modern society, there seems to be nothing more sacrosanct to the masses than their precious “democracy.” It feels impossible to go just twenty-four hours before being assaulted by some pretentious corporate journalist or news anchor about a new imminent danger to “our democracy” and how “we” have to rush to save it from catastrophe. What is it that requires our immediate and undivided attention? What, precisely, do they claim is so dangerous? Put simply: individual liberty. “How can this be?” says a brave shock trooper for democracy. “We are all for individual liberty as long as it’s safe, legal, and reasonable.” The masses want freedom that is bestowed upon them from above by the State (which they essentially view as an extension of themselves in their belief that we are the government), and when they learn of a new “imminent danger,” they look only up to the transcendental State for solutions. The response to every societal problem will never be to allow experimentation and natural order to reign free, to allow free and voluntary association between individuals without coercion, but will instead be a call for the increase in the power of the most disastrous and insidious entity against individual liberty known to man. When put in this way, everything becomes clear: “Our democracy” means nothing more than “our submission.” The Revolutionists of America and France thought they had established true freedom after overthrowing oppressive kings and aristocrats, when in reality their concession to democracy only led to a life of resignation for the masses. Their cries for the rescue of “our democracy” are merely a disguise for the unfortunate fact that the masses have sacrificed virtually the entirety of their individuality and sense of self to external affirmation. In a world where the State and the social straitjacket vanished and everything returned to a state of nature without mystical social contract theories, the sudden weight of the desperate need for internal affirmation would quickly prove to be insurmountable. They would no longer have any holy corporate journalist available to explain what is right and wrong, or any politician promising them the moon in exchange for a vote. Like looking down on the edge of an eternal abyss, they would not be overcome with fierce joy, but by a relentless and terrifying sense of horror, because now they have come face-to-face with true, unbridled freedom. A freedom now unchained from the all familiar Western obstacles of safety and constriction. Freedom that has no heavy anchor or higher ideal to justify its existence. If the masses could fight against their terror and obtain the courage to speak to the abyss, they might say, “We ask not for this unpredictable, Dionysian freedom, but for freedom with reasonable constraints and a clear trajectory.” Disgusted with their imbecility and cowardice, the abyss would respond, “Imbecilic creatures, you know nothing of freedom! You have asked for the heaviest of chains and thought of it as liberty! Rather than asking for broader shoulders, you have cried for bondage, and will crumble under the tremendous weight of your own depressing desire for servitude.” Perhaps in this alternate world the isolated masses could find sufficient affirmation by looking to sticks and rocks, but they would be nothing more than what they are today—slaves. How could they be anything else? In their religion that preaches the sanctity of the democratic process, the State, and its laws, they have become sacrificial animals devoid of a self, devoid of an energetic “I.” While, like most people, they assert that they have their own deeply held principles, one only needs to wait until the next “imminent danger” presents itself to see how quickly the superficial varnish is washed away, and how their spine turns to dust, when they sacrifice their principles to even the gentlest societal pressure. For the masses, everything that isn’t locked up tight in the social straitjacket is the uncontrolled abyss that they must try to seize and destroy with one law after another. This cowardice, this desire to be conquered, this love of sacrifice and resignation, is why I despise the masses. While they, the rabble, intend to live life (assuming one could call it living instead of dying) on their knees worshiping their masters and societal phantoms, I intend to live life with a ferocious “I” and live it according only to my ego alone. Seen with a Nietzschean squint, I live life as an active, assertive force that pursues my own selfish affirmation based upon only what I deem most important in life. I seek only my own ends without regard to humanity or some supernatural ideal. In stark contrast, democracy seeks to destroy internal affirmation by outsourcing it to “authorities” and “experts” to serve as sacred guideposts for society in an attempt to fill the eternal abyss that terrifies them to their core. Rather than viewing it as the “least worst system,” I view democracy as an invader, as something resembling a declaration of war when it attempts to suffocate me in the social straitjacket. Further, democracy is an obscenity that turns bondage and sacrifice into a sacred ritual. I would say simply and directly that I despise it and have no intention to ever come to its aid when nature has decided the time has come for its destruction. When democracy dies, let its tombstone read: There is no “we” here, there is only “I.” To end, I will leave you with the words spoken by Louis Lingg in his Address to the Court that will continue to echo throughout time: “I despise you. I despise your order, your laws, your force-propped authority. Hang me for it!”
Contribution by Mother Liberty