How did we end up with modern leftism and all its ills?

For Erik von Kuehnelt-Leddihn, the answer depended on how deep you were willing to dig. For the average person, the problem seems to have started with World War II; the "more informed" soon realize that World War I is when things went wrong.

This battle will not be won on social media, through new platforms, or by means of yet another ideology.

But the "genuine historian," writes von Kuehnelt-Leddihn in "Leftism Revisted," goes further back in history still, all the way to the "mother of most of the ideological evils besetting not only Western civilization but also the rest of the world": the French Revolution.

Paul Kingsnorth’s compelling diagnosis of what ails modern man in "Against the Machine: On the Unmaking of Humanity" places him somewhere in von Kuehnelt-Leddihn's third category

The Machine

It’s not that this English writer — a recent convert to the Orthodox Church — dismisses the damage wrought by the 20th century, which shattered the West’s confidence in its animating principles and, in time, killed Christendom — setting in motion a broader campaign of deracination, disorientation, and disenchantment, advanced from both sides of the liberal political binary.

Like von Kuehnelt-Leddihn, Kingsnorth understands that these terrible events are the expression of a sickness that took hold centuries ago, at the storming of the Bastille — an event that ushered in the birth of ideology, the razing of ancient hierarchies, the sacrifice of multitudes in the name of "Reason," and the initiation of the continental variety of the liberal experiment.

Kingsnorth, however, goes a step farther. He does not merely trace the origins of the crisis — he names the thing that now drives it.

That which has demolished "borders and boundaries, traditions and cultures, languages and ways of seeing" is, according to Kingsnorth, a centuries-old "monster that grows in deserts," coming of age in the spiritual wastelands created by the French and Industrial Revolutions.

This insatiable force — what Kingsnorth calls the "Machine," but also "Progress" — has swallowed the world and, in doing so, made it increasingly difficult for those within it to perceive reality except through its own corrupting lens.

What cannot be quantified or digitized — "that irrational, illogical world of beauty, wild nature, and spiritual truth" — is not merely ignored but actively obscured.

Science, self, sex, screen

The Machine’s values — progress, openness, the rejection of limits and borders, therapeutic individualism, universalism, materialism, scientism, and the primacy of market logic — have become so ubiquitous, writes Kingsnorth, that we now treat them "as if they were natural as rain or wind."

These values can be distilled into what he calls the "Four S’s":

• science, which offers a purely material account of origins;
• the self, which defines identity and purpose;
• sex, which anchors meaning in desire; and
• the screen, "our main source of distraction from reality and the interface by which we are directed into the coming post-human reality of the Machine."

They stand in direct opposition to the older order, grounded in the "Four P's": past, place, people, and prayer.

Where the Four S's dissolve inheritance, the Four P's depend on it.

Care for and attention to the Four P's threaten the Machine’s liberal anti-culture and are therefore treated with suspicion or contempt — dismissed as naive at best and at worst as reactionary, bigoted, or "deplorable."

Recall former President Barack Obama’s remarks about working-class Pennsylvanians who failed to embrace the promises of progress: "It’s not surprising, then, that they get bitter, they cling to guns or religion ..."

Like its supporters, the Machine’s critics are legion. Yet their opposition is often absorbed.

Breaking the framework

Kingsnorth acknowledges that conservatism, at least in theory, comes closest to offering an anti-Machine politics rooted in human reality. It values tradition, centers home and family, affirms religious faith, and resists both centralized power and abstract utopianism.

But the problem, says Kingsnorth — drawing on Roger Scruton and G.K. Chesterton — is that mainstream conservatism operates largely within the same liberal framework it claims to resist.

As Chesterton observed in 1924, "Even when the revolutionist might himself repent of his revolution, the traditionalist is already defending it as part of his tradition."

The result is a politics that conserves the aftermath of revolution rather than the inheritance it displaced.

The goalposts, in other words, were moved long ago — inside the belly of the beast.

Reactionary radicalism

After searching for a label for those who would genuinely resist the Machine — those seeking, as Rod Dreher has put it, to build "networks of resistance" — Kingsnorth arrives at a term deliberately resistant to left-right categorization: reactionary radicalism.

Reactionary radicalism, says Kingsnorth:

aims to defend or build a moral economy at the human scale, which rejects the atomized individualism of the liberal era and understands that materialism as a world view. A politics which embraces family and home and place, loving the particular without excluding the outsider, and which looks on all great agglomerations of power with suspicion. … A politics which aims to limit rather than multiply our needs, which strategically opposes any technology which threatens the moral economy and which, finally, seeks a moral order to society which is based on love of neighbor rather than competition with everyone.

But how, exactly, can this be put into practice?

This battle will not be won on social media, through new platforms, or by means of yet another ideology. These are the Machine’s native terrain — its shock absorbers.

Raw and the cooked

One increasingly widespread act of resistance Kingsnorth highlights is homeschooling, which he calls "the most important thing any parent can do to resist Machine culture."

More broadly, he urges a turn away from the purely rational toward the reasonable; the building of parallel systems resilient enough to resist assimilation; the rejection of technologies that promise freedom while delivering dependence; and a renewed pursuit of transcendence.

In short: a recovery of the Four P's.

To those still enthralled by the Machine, such people will appear as barbarians — unrefined, unassimilable, and threatening.

The question, Kingsnorth suggests, is what kind of barbarian one will become.

The "raw" barbarian has fled the Machine’s reach. The "cooked" barbarian remains within its walls but practices quiet, persistent dissent.

Either way, he has made himself inedible. Enough indigestible barbarians, and the all-devouring Machine may choke to death.