Shocks to the System

  • What would happen if a US aircraft carrier was sunk in the Persian Gulf or the South China Sea? What would the results be on an international level? A national level? A local level? Who wins and who loses?
  • Suppose 80% of whites vote for a republican candidate in 2016 and he or she still loses. What do they do then? How do they react?
  • There’s been quite a kerfuffle about Ebola in the news recently. What is the reaction if the immigrants coming up from Central America expecting amnesty bring along with them a virulent disease that spreads, causing a pandemic?
  • Conflict between states and non-state actors has been growing in recent times (I use the Westphalian concept of a state here). This trend has currently been occurring by way of conflict between state forces and ideologically motivated forces. What happens when a state actor runs up against not a band of extremists, but a private military corporation fighting for (ostensibly) money? What happens if said PMC is not fighting for money, but for something else?
  • What happens when the first American soldiers are killed by enemy drones?
  • A governor calls in the National Guard to put down civil unrest. The Federal Government orders him to back off, and in lieu of federal agents, neighborhood militias form in order to contain the violence. Following outlandish tales in the media, the police force is then mobilized to put down the “lawless, racist vigilantes”. How can this be ended in the optimal way?
  • Economic malaise sets in as more and more people accept the idea that standards of living are on a steady decline. More and more people drop out of the system. What measures can be taken to restore confidence and jump-start economic revitalization (if possible)?
  • Cyber attacks by an unknown entity have crippled large sections of public infrastructure along the eastern coast of the United States. Several classified servers have also been breached, though no one knows the full extent of the damage. Private industries fared even worse, and no one is certain as to what will happen next.
  • Law Enforcement Agents in a border state have begun using violent and sometimes lethal measures to drive back would-be immigrants hoping to hop over the border. The international community is outraged and the UN is considering retaliatory measures. Russia is deliberately inflating the tensions to shield its maneuverings and even steadfast US allies have been reluctant to touch the matter. How then to proceed?
  • A nuclear deal with Iran is reached, but Israel, furious at the outcome, launches airstrikes on several Iranian nuclear sites. Not only does it become clear that Saudi Arabia was complicit in this endeavor (allowing Israeli use of Saudi Arabian airspace), but Iranian troops are now mobilizing on the Iraqi border and the shores of Persian Gulf, while Hezbollah launches an aggressive assault on Israel, unleashing a devastating barrage of missiles on Haifa and Tel Aviv that the Iron Dome can do little to stop.
  • Finally, what might the implications be if we humor ourselves a bit and posit this scenario: https://twitter.com/Outsideness/status/485642158196523009?

How does a reactionary society (in the US’s position, with all the baggage that entails) aim to prevent these occurrences and/or adequately respond if any of these events should pass?

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The Shadows on the Strings: Part One

I’ll be mixing things up a bit for the next few weeks as I sprinkle in some fictional fare that I’ve been writing as of late.  It will be somber at times, flippant at others, and will consistently be integrating and exploring Neoreactionary themes.  If the feedback is good (and please give your feedback on this endeavor, for it will be highly influential on future efforts) I might make it a more regular thing.  With this in mind, I’d like to officially present part one of my first Neoreactionary short story: The Shadows on the Strings

It was a cold, wet, rainy day. Jonathon walked along the city sidewalk, raincoat pulled up to his ears, trying to avoid the puddles quickly forming in the numerous potholes dotted throughout the concrete. The recent city reports said that the infrastructure was in “fair condition” and “posed no danger to civilians”. Jonathon didn’t believe it for a second. He knew the guy who had crunched the data for those reports. He knew the numbers had been fudged to cover up.

Jonathon passed a boarded-up building. Two years back, it had been a boxing gym, catering mostly to ex-felons and other individuals with a rough streak and a taste for heavy weights. That alone would probably have been sufficient to get it shut down anyway under the new laws, but it had also drawn fire from local social justice groups for being an unsafe space for individuals of certain oppressed groups. Accusations of “hetero-masculine persuasions” and “perpetuating gendered untruths” peppered the city news-blog, and even the pink sign on the door that said “All Welcome” hadn’t been enough to dissuade the onslaught.

The owner, a gruff old man with silver hair and lighting-fast hands whom everyone knew as “Old Mac”, had been questioned and shaken down a bit, but had managed to avoid any worse punishment than a stiff fine. Still, the gym had meant everything to him in his retirement, and without it, Old Mac had taken to the bottle.

Old Mac had passed away five months ago. Without any known family or heirs, the property had passed into city hands, no doubt eventually fated to become public housing or a community center of some sort.

Jonathon arrived at his apartment complex, a grim-looking building with bars on the windows and barbed wire winding around the drainpipes. The scars on the brick facade were a testament to the ’23 riots, which had hit this part of town heaviest. The ghosts of the past were still depressing rent prices in this area, though the past five years had seen a slow but sure uptick.

Jonathon flashed his ID card in front of the scanner. It took three tries before the machine managed to register it correctly. The door began to swing open, but it barely made it halfway before jamming. Jonathon grumbled, and forced his way through what little opening was being offered. Though he was still on the younger side of 35, time was starting to take its toll. He could have easily slipped through the narrow space five years earlier, but he was no longer as svelte as he once was.

While his body was beginning to slow down though, his mind was as quick and agile as it had ever been. Part of this was almost certainly due to his access to certain black-market nootropics. Though technically illegal, Jonathon had been relying on them since his university days. Back then, they had given him an advantage over his peers. Now, they helped him to merely keep up.

Jonathon trudged up the steps, making his way to his small flat. Most days he would stop in on his neighbor Charles and discuss current events or recent films over martinis, but today he was preoccupied for such matters. Turning his key in the lock on his door, he stepped inside his apartment and went straight to his desk. He rifled through the drawers for about a minute until he found what he was looking for: an old notebook.

It had been years since the notebook had been of any use to Jonathon. He certainly hadn’t picked it up for at least the past decade, yet he had never been able to bring himself to throw it away. Tonight, for the first time, he perhaps understood why…

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