Der Waldgang

By

Ernst Juenger

The Retreat into the Forest

1.

Fear is one of the most characteristic phenomena of our age. Its appearance is all the more perplexing, because it follows closely upon an

era of individual freedom in which even the misery which was still familiar

to Dickens had become almost unknown. How did this reversal come about? Were one to choose a turning point, one would find none more

suitable than the day of the Titanic shipwreck. There light and darkness clash; the hubris of progress is confronted by panic, luxurious comfort by

destruction, automatism by the catastrophe which appears as a traffic

accident.

Indeed, increasing automatism and anxiety are closely related. They appear whenever man limits the scope of his decisions in order to ease his

fate by technological means. To be sure, these limitations result in a variety

of conveniences; but they are accompanied by an increasing loss of freedom. The individual is no longer rooted in society as a tree in a forest,

rather he is comparable to the passenger in a rapidly moving vehicle whose name may be ”Titanic,” but also ”Leviathan.” As long as the weather holds

and the outlook is pleasant, he will scarcely notice the curtailment of his

freedom. He may even be filled with optimism and with the consciousness of power produced by the sense of speed. But all this changes when the

fiery volcanic islands and icebergs emerge on the horizon. Then not only will technology claim a right to dominate fields other than the procurement

of comfort, but at the same time the lack of freedom will become apparent

– be it in the victory of elemental forces or in the fact that individuals who have remained strong acquire the means to exercise absolute power.

It may be objected that ages of anxiety and of apocalyptic panic occurred

without a comparable automatism. This may be, for the automatism becomes terrifying only when it is revealed as one of the forms, indeed as

the style of nemesis. The anxiety of modern man may be of a very special

sort or it may be merely the contemporary incarnation of a recurrent cosmic anxiety. This problem need not detain us. Rather we should ask a

question which concerns all of us: is it possible to reduce the fear while the automatism of the age persists, or rather, while this automatism – as may

be anticipated – makes further progress toward its ultimate perfection?

Can we stay on shipboard and at the same time reserve our powers of free decision? Can we not merely preserve, but strengthen the roots which still

cling to the prime depths of being? This is the essential question of our time.

The reader will have experienced a change in the nature of what is considered a question. We are constantly confronted by forces that

question us. And their inquisitiveness is by no means motivated by a concern with ideas. In approaching us with their questions, they do not

expect us to promote the cause of objective truth, or even to contribute to

the solution of any specific problems. They are not concerned with our solutions, but with our answers. This distinction is relevant. Increasingly,

the act of questioning takes on the characteristics of a cross examination, a process which can be studied in the development which leads from the

ballot-box to the questionnaire.

The ballot is designed to determine a factual relationship, the will of the

voter, and the act of voting is so organized that it may be expressed

without outside intervention or influence. Hence the act of voting is accompanied by the feeling of security and even by the sense of power

which distinguishes of sovereign expression of the free will within a sphere protected by law. But the contemporary, obliged to reply to a

questionnaire, is far removed from this sense of security. His statements

are far-reaching in their implications, for his fate may depend upon them. We see individuals confronted by a situation in which they are asked to

procure documents designed to cause their ruin. And how trivial are the things which nowadays determine the destruction of man! It stands to

reason that the change in the nature of the process of questioning points to an order of things altogether different from that at the beginning of the

century. The old security has disappeared, and we must adjust our thinking

accordingly. Questions press in on us ever more closely, ever more

menacingly, and the manner in which we answer becomes increasingly

significant. And even silence has become an answer. These are the dilemmas of the age, and there is no escape from them.

Another characteristic of our period is the intertwining of significant events

with insignificant representatives. This is particularly remarkable in our

great men. They make the impression of figures which can be seen in any number in the coffee-houses of Vienna or in provincial officers’ clubs. These

are the men who cause millions to tremble, who shape the fate of countless numbers. And yet they are the very men whom our time has selected with

unfailing tact, if we consider it under one of its aspects, that of a

tremendous wrecking enterprise. All these liquidations, rationalizations, socializations, electrifications and pulverizations require neither culture nor

character, both of which are a threat to the automatism. Wherever in our period power is essential, it is attracted by the individual in whom the

insignificant is coupled with a strong will.

Such phenomena have occurred before in the history of mankind. They might be counted among the atrocities which are rarely missing when great

transformations take place. More disquieting is the fact that cruelty threatens to become not an accompaniment but an inseparable element of

the new power structures, and that the individual is exposed to it without

any possibility of defending himself. There are several reasons for this, above all the fact that rational thinking is itself cruel and that this cruelty

then enters into the process of planning. The extinction of free competition plays a special part, leading to a curious distortion. For competition is like

a race in which the most skillful win the prize. Where it ceases, it is replaced

domestically by great pressures for a general sinecure at the expense of the state, while external competition – the race between the states –

continues.

Terror steps into the resulting gap. The speed formerly produced by the

race of competition must now be produced by fear. In the one case the standards of efficiency depend on high pressure, in the other on a vacuum.

There it is the winner who sets the pace, here it is the man who is worse

off. For this reason the state feels constantly compelled to subject a

segment of its population to atrocities. Life has become gray, but it may well seem bearable to the man who, next to himself, sees the absolute

black of utter darkness. These, and not their economic implications, are the dangers of extensive planning.

The selection of the persecuted groups is a question of secondary

importance. They will always be minorities, set apart either by nature or artificial construction. Obviously, all who are distinguished by virtue of

tradition or excellence will be endangered. It is understandable that under these conditions human beings would rather submit to the most oppressive

burdens than to be counted among those who are ”different.” Seemingly

without effort the automatism succeeds in destroying the remnants of free will, and persecution becomes ubiquitous like an all-pervasive element.

Escape may be possible for a favored few, but it usually leads to something

worse. Resistance only animates the Leviathan by giving him a welcome

pretext for repressive measures. In the face of such conditions only one hope seems to remain, that the process may spend itself like a volcano

spends its fiery ashes. But at this point a question arises, which is not at all theoretical, but an inevitable concomitant of every contemporary

existence whether there is not, after all, another road that may be traveled,

whether there do not exist mountain passes which can be discovered only after a long ascent.

New conceptions of authority and great concentrations of power have

arisen. In order to resist them, we require a new conception of freedom

transcending the anemic abstractions we have come to associate with this term. The first prerequisite for this new awareness is that man must not

content himself with being left in peace; that he must be ready to risk his life. In that case, we shall soon learn that even in the states in which the

power of the police has become overwhelming, independence is by no

means extinct. The armor of the new Leviathan has its chinks which must be constantly sought out, an activity requiring both caution and audacity

of a kind hitherto unknown. This suggests that elites are about to begin the struggle for a new freedom which will require great sacrifice and which

must not be interpreted in a manner unworthy of it. In order to find

analogies we must go back to ages of strength, say, to the period of the Huguenots or of the guerillas as Goya saw them in his Desastros. Compared

to these, the storming of the Bastille – an event which still provides nourishment for the current notion of freedom – appears like a Sunday

stroll into the suburbs.

Is there at least one root left which will open up the riches of the soil?

Health and life depend upon it -beyond all civilization, and beyond its safeguards. This becomes evident in periods of extreme danger, when the

apparatus not only forsakes the individual but even turns against him. Then

each individual must decide whether he wants to surrender or to persevere

by relying on his own and innermost strength. In this case he may choose

the retreat into the forest (Waldgang).

2.

The ship is a symbol of temporal existence, the forest a symbol of

supratemporal being. In our nihilistic epoch, optical illusions multiply and

motion seems to become pervasive. Actually, however, all the contemporary display of technical power is merely an ephemeral reflection

of the richness of Being. In gaining access to it, and be it only for an instant, man will gain inward security: the temporal phenomena will not only lose

their menace, but they will assume a positive significance. We shall call

this reorientation toward being the retreat into the forest (Waldgang), and the man who carries it out the wanderer in the forest (Waldgänger). Similar

to the term ”worker” (Arbeiter), it signifies a scale of values. For it applies not only to a variety of forms of activity, but also to various stages in the

expression of an underlying attitude. The term has its prehistory in an old

Icelandic custom. The retreat into the forest followed upon proscription. Through it a man asserted his will to survive by virtue of his own strength.

That was held to be honorable, and it is still so today in spite of all commonplaces to the contrary.

Wanderers in the forest (Waldgänger) are all those who, isolated by great upheavals, are confronted with ultimate annihilation. Since this could be

the fate of many, indeed, of all, another defining characteristic must be added: the wanderer in the forest (Waldgänger) is determined to offer

resistance. He is willing to enter into a struggle that may appear hopeless.

Hence he is distinguished by an immediate relationship to freedom which expresses itself in the fact that he is prepared to oppose the automatism

and to reject its ethical conclusion of fatalism. If we look at him in this fashion, we shall understand the role which the retreat into the forest

(Waldgang) plays not only in our thoughts but also in the realities of our

age. Everyone today is subject to coercion, and the attempts to banish it are bold experiments upon which depends a destiny far greater than the

fate of those who dare to undertake them.

The retreat into the forest (Waldgang) is not to be understood as a form of

anarchism directed against the world of technology, although this is a temptation, particularly for those who strive to regain a myth.

Undoubtedly, mythology will appear again. It is always present and arises

in a propitious hour like a treasure coming to the surface. But man does not return to the realm of myth, he reencounters it when the age is out of

joint and in the magic circle of extreme danger. It is not a question therefore of choosing the forest or the ship but of choosing both the forest

and the ship. The number of those who want to abandon the ship is

growing, and among them are clear heads and fine minds. But it amounts to a disembarkation in mid-ocean. Hunger will follow, and cannibalism, and

the sharks: in short, all the terrors that have been reported from the raft of Medusa. Hence it is advisable under all circumstances to stay aboard

even at the danger of being blown up. This objection is not directed against

the poet who reveals – through his life as well as through his work – the vast superiority of the artistic universe over the world of technology. He

helps man to rediscover himself: the poet is a wanderer in the forest (Waldgänger), for authorship is merely another form of independence.

In general, we are not concerned with specific political and technological configurations. Their fleeting images pass, but the menace remains or

returns with ever greater speed and with increased impact. The opponents come to resemble one another to such an extent that it is easy to recognize

them as disguises of the very same power. Our task then is not to master

the external phenomena here or there, but to subdue the age. That requires a sovereign will which, nowadays, is to be found less in heroic

decisions than in the man who has forsworn fear in his own heart. The immense precautions of the state are directed against him and him alone,

and yet ultimately they are destined to bring about his triumph. When he

realizes this, he is liberated and dictatorships sink into dust. Therein lie the untapped resources of our age and not only of ours. This is the theme of

all history and it defines history, setting it apart from the realm of the demons and from mere zoological events. It is anticipated by myth and by

the great religions, and recurs forever. Again and again giants and titans

appear with the same seemingly overwhelming superiority, only to be felled by the free man who need not always be a prince or a Heracles. The stone

from the sling of the shepherd, the banner raised by a maiden, and a crossbow, have also been known to suffice.

3.

At this point another question arises. To what extent is freedom desirable in the first place? Can it serve a purpose within our present historical

situation? Is it not a distinctive merit of contemporary man – and a merit

easily underestimated – that he knows how to renounce freedom to so

large an extent? In many ways he is like a soldier marching toward

unknown destinations or like a worker building a palace others shall inhabit. Nor is this his worst aspect. Should he be distracted as long as the process

continues? There is no doubt that there are goals served by countless millions who lead lives which would be unbearable without this prospect

and which cannot be explained in terms of sheer coercion. The sacrifices

will perhaps reap them glory only in a distant future, but they will not have been in vain. The processes will continue, and as in all conditions ordained

by fate, the attempts to delay the development and to revert to points of departure will only serve to further and to accelerate the course of events.

It is well to remain aware of the inevitable in order to avoid being lost in illusions. Freedom coexists with necessity, and only after freedom enters

into a relation with necessity can the new state of mind emerge. Every transformation of the concept of necessity has brought with it a change in

the concept of freedom. For this reason the notions of freedom of 1789

have become obsolete and are no longer effective against the coercion of our time. Freedom in itself is immortal, but in each period it appears in a

different guise and must be conquered anew. History in the true sense can be made only by free men; it is the form given by the free to his destiny.

In this sense, man can act as a symbol; his sacrifice includes and counts

for the other members of the community. It cannot be our task, then, to change the design of the universe. But palaces could be built upon it and

not only the ant-heaps anticipated by the utopias of our day.

Let us consider a further objection. Should we restrict ourselves to a

philosophy of catastrophe? Should we – and be it only in our spiritual

preoccupations – seek out the waters of extreme danger, the cataracts, the maelstroms, the huge abysses? This is an objection not to be

underestimated. Much is to be said for the judicious man who maps out the safe itineraries with the firm will to persevere in his course. It is a

problem which can assume practical aspects, as in the case of armaments.

Armaments are designed for the eventuality of war, to begin with as a preventive measure. Subsequently, they lead to a borderline situation

where preparedness seems to invite war. There are kinds of investment which, under all circumstances, must end in bankruptcy. Thus systems of

lightning-rods are conceivable which would ultimately bring on the thunderstorms. The same considerations apply in the spiritual realm. In

considering the marginal case, we may overlook the routes it’ll open.

However, one does not exclude the other. Rather reason demands that we

consider all possible eventualities, and keep a response in readiness for

each, as one does on the chessboard.

In our situation it is our duty to reckon with catastrophe, to sleep with it, so to speak, so that we shall not be caught unaware. Only in this manner

can we acquire a reserve of security which will enable us to act reasonably.

In a state of complete security our thought merely plays with the possibility of catastrophe. We include it in our plans as an improbable eventuality,

and we protect ourselves with minimal precautions. In our days the reverse must be the case. We must spend almost our entire capital on the

possibility of catastrophe precisely in order to keep open the middle road

that has become as narrow as the edge of a knife.

But we are concerned here with the threat to which the individual is exposed, and with his fear, not with politics or political ideas.

Fundamentally the individual is only interested in his profession, in his

family, and in the pursuit of his inclinations, but, sooner or later, the age intrudes upon him. Either conditions gradually deteriorate or he is exposed

to extremes. Expropriation, compulsory labor, and worse appear on his horizon. Before long, he will realize that neutrality would be tantamount to

suicide – you must either howl with the wolves or fight them.

Where in his distress can he find a third solution which leaves him some

freedom from the dynamics of the events? Only in his existence as an

individual, in his own being which remains unshaken. Anyone who has escaped from catastrophes knows that, in the last analysis, he owed his

rescue to simple human beings who did not submit to the power of hatred and fear or to the automatism of slogans. They resisted the impact of

propaganda and of technical suggestiveness, the impact of all demoniac

forces of our civilization. Immeasurable may be the blessings when such virtue becomes visible in the leaders of nations, as it became manifest in

Augustus. Upon this virtue empires are founded. The prince does not rule by killing, but by giving life. Therein lies one of the great hopes, that among

the faceless millions one perfect human being may arise.

Among such humans we may name Socrates whose example inspired not

only the Stoa but countless spirits of all ages. We may differ in our opinions concerning the life and the teachings of this man; his death belongs to the

greatest of all events. The world is such that prejudice and passion will

ever again demand blood. It is necessary to realize that this will never be otherwise. The arguments change, but stupidity sits forever in judgment.

Men were brought before its tribunal first, because they despised the gods;

then because they did not recognize a dogma; or again, because they offended against a theory. There exists no great word or noble thought in

the name of which blood has not been spilled. The message of Socrates resides in the conviction of the invalidity of the verdict which testifies to a

standard transcending the human scale. The true verdict was spoken long

before the trial began and took expression in the exaltation of the victim. The trial is perennial, and the philistines who sat in judgment then may be

met today on every street corner and in every parliament. The idea that this might end has always distinguished the shallow thinkers. But human

greatness must be reconquered again and again. It triumphs whenever

man masters the onslaught of vulgarity in his own heart. Therein resides the real substance of history; in the encounter of man with himself, that is

to say, with his own divine power. That must be understood if one wishes to teach history.

Socrates called the sphere where he was counseled by a voice not to be expressed in words, his daimonion. It might also be called the forest. But

what does it mean to the contemporary if we advise him to follow the example of the man who conquered death, the models of gods, heroes,

and sages? It means that he participates in the resistance against the age,

and, indeed, not against this age only, but against every age whose basic motivation is fear. It is in the nature of things that education today aims

at the very opposite. Never before have such strange notions concerning the teaching of history existed. All these systems are designed to cut off

the influx of metaphysics, to domesticate and to drill the spirits for the

benefit of the collective. Even when the Leviathan is obliged to rely upon courage, as on the battlefield, it will attempt to keep the fighting man in

place with a second and stronger menace. In such states one depends on the police.

We touch here the core of modern suffering, the great emptiness, which Nietzsche called the growth of the desert. The desert is growing; this is the

spectacle of civilization with its draining relationships. In this landscape we yearn for sustenance: ”The desert is growing; woe to him who contains

deserts within himself.” It will be well if the churches create oases. It will

be better still if man is not satisfied even with that. The church can give us assistance, but not existence. The decision will take place within man; no

one can spare him his travails. The great loneliness of the individual belongs to the characteristics of the age. He is surrounded and imprisoned

by anxiety which closes in upon him like approaching walls. Anxiety

becomes tangible in the prisons, in slavery, and in the battles of modern

war. These experiences fill the thoughts, the soliloquies, perhaps even the

diaries in years when a man may not even trust his closest neighbor. Yet the proximity of saving powers is also felt. The terrors are alarms,

symptoms of ever more insistent questions which are being put to man. No one can spare him the answer.

The desert is growing; the faded, infertile spheres are multiplying. The fields which gave life purpose are disappearing; so are the gardens from

which one can take nourishment without suspicion, the sheds which have familiar tools. The laws have become dubious, the weapons double-edged.

Woe to him who harbors deserts; who does not contain, be it only in one

cell, the substance which ever again guarantees fertility.

4.

It is frightening how concepts and objects often change their appearance

over night, and produce wholly unexpected results. That is a symptom of

anarchy. Let us consider, for instance, freedom and the rights of the individual in relation to authority. These are determined by the

constitution. Again and again, and, unfortunately, for some time to come, we will have to expect the violation of these rights by the state, by a party

which has seized the state, by a foreign invader, or by a combination of

these forces. It may be said that the masses, at least in our country, are in a state where they scarcely perceive the violation of the constitution any

longer. It seems that they are far more concerned with football games than with their own basic rights. Once this consciousness is lost, it cannot be

restored artificially.

The violation of a law can assume a legal varnish; for example, when a

ruling party prevails upon a majority to change the constitution. The majority can be right and yet commit wrong, a contradiction that the

simple-minded cannot grasp. Even at plebiscites it is often difficult to

decide where the law ends and violence begins. These encroachments can gradually gain in strength until they assume the character of pure

atrocities. Those who witnessed these actions, accompanied by the applause of the masses, know that traditional expedients are of no avail

against them. Suicide is not to be expected from everybody, least of all

when recommended from abroad. No fate is more hopeless than to live in a period in which the law has become a weapon.

In Germany, resistance against authority is, or was, especially difficult

because, from the days of legitimate monarchy, the population preserved a modicum of respect for the state. Hence the individual found it difficult

to understand why the victorious powers prosecuted him, not merely by means of a blanket accusation of collective guilt, but also as an individual

for having, for example, continued in his profession as a conductor of an

orchestra or as a public official. Although this state of mind produced some grotesque results, we must not treat it as a mere curiosity. It is indicative

of a new feature in our world, in which foreigners may accuse the individual as a collaborator with popular movements, while political parties try him

as a sympathizer of unpopular causes. The individual is thus placed

between Scylla and Charybdis; he is threatened with liquidation either because he participated or because he failed to participate.

Hence, a high degree of courage is required which will enable him to defend

the cause of justice all alone, and even against the power of the state. It

will be doubted whether such men can be found. Some will appear, however, and they will be wanderers in the forest (Waldgänger). Even

against his will, this type of man will enter the historical scene, for there are forms of coercion that leave no choice.

It may seem strange that a single individual, or even several, should resist

the Leviathan. Yet it is precisely through their action that the colossus reveals its vulnerability. For even a handful of determined men can become

a threat, not only morally but physically. Again and again we witness that two or three gangsters can upset an entire metropolitan district, and cause

lengthy sieges. If the relationship is reversed, if the authorities turn

criminal and men of justice offer resistance, incomparably greater effects can be produced. The consternation of Napoleon at the uprising of Mallct,

a single, but unbending man is a well-known instance.

Let us assume that a small number of truly free men are left in a city or

state. In that case the breach of the constitution would carry a heavy risk. In this sense, the theory of collective guilt is justified, for the possibility of

violating a law is directly proportional to the degree of resistance it encounters at the hands of freedom. An attack on the invulnerability and,

indeed, on the sanctity of the home would not have been possible in old

Iceland, in the form in which it was possible as a purely administrative measure in Berlin in 1933, in the midst of a population of several millions.

As an honorable exception we should mention a young Social Democrat

who killed half a dozen of the so-called auxiliary police at the entrance of

his apartment. He still partook of the substantial Old-Germanic sense of freedom which his opponents celebrated in their theories. Naturally, he had

not learned this from the program of his party.

Let us suppose, furthermore, that the authorities would have had to expect

an incident of this sort in every street of Berlin. In that case, things would have been different. Long periods of peace and quiet favor certain optical

illusions. Among them is the assumption that the invulnerability of the home is founded upon the constitution and safeguarded by it. In reality, it

rests upon the father of the family who, accompanied by his sons, appears

with the ax on the threshold of his dwelling. This truth is not always apparent, however. Nor is it to be construed as an objection to the

constitution. It is simply that the old saying still holds: the man must vouch for his oath; the oath cannot vouch for the man. The German has been

reproached for his lack of resistance to official acts of violence and perhaps

justifiably. He did not yet know the rules of the game, and he felt threatened from other directions where there has never been any question

of basic human rights. Those who died in a hopeless struggle, unarmed, and in defense of their wives and children, are, as yet, hardly noticed. But

their lonely destruction will become known. For it counts as a weight in the

scale of history. We, who survived, must see to it, however, that the spectacle of coercion which met no resistance shall never be repeated.

5.

We live in a period in which it is difficult to distinguish between war and

peace, and the boundaries between merit and crime are obscured by intermediary shades. This deceives even sharp eyes. For into every case of

individual guilt enters the confusion of the age, the collective guilt. An aggravating circumstance is the fact that there are no sovereigns left, and

that all who exercise power have risen by way of feuding political parties.

This reduces from the very outset the capacity for actions oriented toward the welfare of the whole: that is, for impartiality, for generosity, and for

development. Those who exercise power prefer instead to live off the whole; they are incapable of preserving it, and of increasing it through their

inner abundance, through being. Hence, capital is wasted by victorious

factions for the benefit of shortsighted aims and conceptions.

The only consolation is the realization that this spectacle is part of a descent which leads in a definite direction and toward definite goals. In

former times, phases such as the present were termed an interregnum.

Their distinctive characteristic is the absence of ultimate values. But it is already a significant achievement that we recognize this, and the

realization is of much greater value than the attempt to reintroduce old and obsolete values with the pretense that they might still be effective. Our

eyes reject Gothic ornaments in the world of machinery; in the moral realm

a similar law obtains.

When all institutions have become dubious or even infamous, when you hear prayers being offered not for the persecuted but for the persecutors,

then the ethical responsibility shifts to the individual, or rather to the

individual who is still unbroken, the wanderer in the forest (Waldgänger).

It is a hard decision which he must make that he will reserve the right of independent judgment whatever the cause for which his approval or

participation is solicited. It will require a considerable sacrifice, but it will

also lead to an immediate gain in sovereignty. As matters stand, this gain will be felt as such only by very few. Yet the power of sovereign rule can

come only from those who have preserved the awareness of the primal scales of value, only from the men who cannot be induced to renounce

humanity by any superiority of force.

The great experience of the forest consists of the encounter with the Ego,

with the self, with the inviolate core and essence that sustains the temporal

and individual appearance. This encounter, so decisive for the conquest of health and for the victory over fear, is also supreme in its moral value. It

leads to the primal basis of all social intercourse, to the man whose example defines individuality. In this sphere we will encounter not only

community but also identity. This is the symbolic meaning of the embrace:

the Ego recognizes itself in the other human being in the saying, ”This is you.” The other can be the beloved, the sufferer, or the helpless victim. In

giving help, the Ego helps its own immortal essence and confirms the basic ethical order of the universe.

Countless men are alive today who have traversed the nadirs of the nihilistic process. They know that the mechanism reveals itself as an ever-

greater menace that man has entered into the interior of a huge machine which has been designed for his annihilation. They have learned that every

form of rationalism leads to machine-like mechanism, and every

mechanism to torture as its logical consequence, a fact which the nineteenth century failed to grasp. A miracle must take place if a man is to

escape from such whirlpools. And this miracle has taken place times

without number when among the faceless numbers there appeared an

individual and gave succor. This was the case even in the prisons and, indeed, especially there. In every situation and in his relation to every man,

the individual can become the brother – this is his genuine, his sovereign, trait. The origin of nobility was the task of protection – protection against

the threats of beasts and monsters. This is the token of the aristocratic

being, and it shines forth in the guard who secretly gives a piece of bread to a prisoner. Such actions can never cease, for the world subsists on them.

They are the sacrifices upon which it rests.

Taking the Forest Way

14.

The fundamental question amid all this turmoil is: can humanity be

liberated from fear? This is far more important than arming people or supplying them with medicines. Those who are unafraid have power and

health. Conversely, fear also lays siege to those who are armed to the teeth – to them above all. The same can be said of someone swimming in

abundance. The threat cannot be banished by weapons or riches. These

are just means to that end.

Fear and danger are so closely entwined that it is scarcely possible to say

which of these two forces generates the other. Fear is more important, so we must start with that if we want to loosen the knot.

People must be warned, however, against trying to do the opposite, that

is: attempting to start with the danger. Simply trying to make oneself more

dangerous than the thing one fears will not achieve the solution. This is the classic relationship between Red and White, between Red and Red, and

tomorrow perhaps between White and Colored. Terror is like a fire that wants to consume the world. Simultaneously, the fear multiplies. The

person who puts an end to fear legitimizes himself as one who is called

upon to rule. This is a person who has previously mastered fear.

It is also important to know that fear cannot be completely banished. That would not go beyond automatism. On the contrary it would introduce fear

into the inner depths of man. Fear will always remain the great partner in

the dialogue when a person thinks things over. In this fear strives for

monologue, and only in that role does it have the last word.

However, if fear is forced back into dialogue, the human being can have his say. This also dispels the impression that he has no way out. Another

solution will always be apparent besides the automatic one. So there are

now two ways; or, in other words, freedom of choice is re-established.

Even if one is prepared to accept the worst case of breakdown, there

remains a distinction between light and darkness. Here the way rises into high realms, towards a sacrificial death or to the fate of one who falls

fighting; there it sinks into the lowly spheres of slave-camps and slaughter houses where primitives murderously unite with technology. There destiny

is absent, and only numbers exist. Having a destiny or being regarded as a statistic: this is a decision that is forced on everyone today, but which

has to be taken individually. The individual is just as sovereign today as in

any other period of history, perhaps even more so? As collective powers gain ground, the individual becomes separated from the old, established

associations and stands alone. He now becomes the opponent of Leviathan, even its conqueror, its master.

Let us return once again to the image of choice. As we saw, the process of choice has become an automatic accord determined by the organizer. The

individual can be and is compelled to participate in this. He need only know

that all the positions he is able to adopt within this sphere are equally vain. It makes no difference whether a hunted animal moves here or there if it

is in a trap.

Freedom is completely different to mere opposition, and cannot be

achieved by flight. We called this place the forest. There one has means other than a ‘No’ expressed in the area prescribed. Admittedly, we have

seen that, in the present state of decline, perhaps only one person in a hundred is capable of taking the forest way. But this is not a question of

percentages. If a theatre catches fire, a single clear thinker, a single stout

heart, is sufficient to put a stop to the panic of a thousand people, all threatening to crush one another and succumb to their animal fear.

Mention here of individuals refers to true human beings, without the

overtones the idea has attracted over the past two centuries. The reference

is to the free human being as God created him. This human being is not an exception, does not embody an elite. He is in fact concealed within

everyone, and differences only arise out of the degree to which the

individual manages to implement the freedom granted to him. As a thinker,

a friend, as one who knows and loves, one has to help him achieve that.

It can also be said that man is sleeping in the forest. In the moment when he awakens and recognizes his power, order is restored. The higher rhythm

of history can generally be interpreted in terms of the human being

periodically rediscovering himself. The powers that want to mask this are sometimes totemic, sometimes magical, and sometimes technological.

Then rigidity increases, accompanied by fear. The arts petrify and dogma becomes absolute. But the spectacle of man removing his mask has

repeated itself since earliest times, to be followed by joy, the reflection of

freedom.

Under the spell of powerful optical illusions, we have become accustomed to seeing the human being as a grain of sand in comparison with his

machines and all his apparatus. However, this apparatus is and remains

the setting for the lower imagination. The human being has created this apparatus, and he can dismantle it or incorporate it in a new meaning. The

bonds of technology can be broken, and the individual is the one to do this.

29.

In the case of attack by a foreign army, taking the forest way becomes a means of waging war. That applies especially to weak or unarmed states.

Someone taking the forest way does not ask how advanced armaments are, or whether they exist at all. The forest way can be taken at any time

and in any place, even against vastly superior powers. In such a case it is in fact the only means of resistance.

The person who follows this course is not a soldier. He does not know military conventions and their discipline. His life is both freer and harder

than that of a soldier. Followers of the forest way are recruited from those who are determined to fight for freedom, even when the situation is

hopeless. Ideally, their personal freedom should accord with the freedom

of their country. This gives free peoples a great advantage which tips the scales increasingly in their favor when warfare is prolonged.

Those for whom another form of existence is impossible are also forced to

rely on following the forest way. Invasion is succeeded by measures that

threaten much of the population: arrests, extensive searches, listing of

suspects, forced labor, and obligatory service in a foreign army. That drives

people to resist, either secretly or openly.

There is special danger when criminal elements invade. The follower of the forest way may not fight in accordance with military law, but he is not a

criminal. Nor is his discipline soldierly, and that fact presupposes strong

and direct conduct.

As far as its location is concerned, the forest is everywhere. It is in the

wasteland and in the cities, wherever the follower of the forest way lives in hiding or concealed beneath the mask of his profession. The forest is in the

desert and in the bush. The forest is in the fatherland and in any other country where resistance can be offered. Above all, the forest is behind the

enemy’s own lines. The follower of the forest way is not in thrall to that optical illusion which sees the attacker as an enemy of the nation. He knows

his predicament, the hiding-places of the oppressed, the minorities waiting

for their moment. He wages guerrilla warfare along railway tracks and supply routes; he threatens bridges, power-lines, and depots. His activities

force the dispersal of troops and the strengthening of guards. The follower of the forest way is responsible for reconnaissance, for sabotage, for

spreading news among the population. He makes his way into impassable

terrain and becomes anonymous, so as to reappear when the enemy shows signs of weakness. He spreads constant unrest and causes nocturnal

panics. He can even paralyze armies, as happened to Napoleon’s forces in Spain.

The follower of the forest way does not have extensive means of combat at his disposal. However, he knows how weapons that cost millions can be

destroyed through bold actions. He knows their tactical weaknesses, their

defects, their destructibility. He also has greater freedom in choice of location than soldiers do, and will attack where limited means can cause

great damage: in bottlenecks, in arteries leading through difficult terrain, and in places far removed from military bases. Each advance reaches the

most exposed of positions where men and equipment become precious

because they have to be transported over huge distances. For every combatant there are a hundred more linked up in the supply line. And this

one combatant encounters the follower of the forest way. Here we return again to our ratio.

The world situation favors following the forest way. It creates equilibria which call forth free actions. In the global civil war, every attack must

expect difficulties in his own hinterland. And every new area that falls to

him enlarges this hinterland. At the same time he has to intensify his methods, which leads to an avalanche of reprisals. His opponent makes

this undermining, and the encouragement of it, his first priority. This means that even if he can’t expect the direct support of a world power, the

follower of the forest way can reckon with weapons and supplies. He is not,

however, a follower of political parties.

Following the forest way conceals a new principle of defense. This can be practiced whether armies exist or not. In all countries, particularly in small

ones, people will recognize that its preparation is indispensable. Large-

scale weapons can be produced and possessed by only super-states. The forest way can be followed by the smallest minority, even by the individual.

This is the answer freedom has to give. And it has the last word.

Following the forest way is linked more closely to freedom than any

armaments; in it resides the original will to resist. That is why only volunteers are suited to it. They will defend themselves in all circumstances

regardless of whether or not the state prepares, arms, or calls on them. They therefore provide an existential demonstration of their freedom. The

state which lacks this kind of consciousness will decline into being a mere

satellite.

Freedom is the big issue today. It is the power that masters fear. It is the

main concern of the free human being; not just freedom itself, but also the way in which it can effectively be represented and made visible in

resistance. We do not want to go into details. Fear will already be reduced through recognition of its role in the event of catastrophe. Catastrophe

must be prepared for, just as one practices for a shipwreck when setting

out on a voyage at sea. Wherever one people prepares itself for following the forest way, it will inevitably become a fear-inducing power.

A power which places the emphasis on following the forest way

demonstrates that it has no intention of launching an offensive war.

Nevertheless, it could make its defensive powers very strong, even acting as a deterrent at no great expense. That would make long-term policy

possible. The fruits fall into the hands of those who know their rights and can wait.

Brief mention should be made of the possibility that following the forest way, where necessity and freedom recognize each other, may exert an

influence on armies, in that the primal forms of resistance, from which the military derive, once again enter into history. When a terrible threat results

in the emergence of a naked sense of”to be or not to be“, freedom is

elevated beyond the legal sphere onto another more holy level, where fathers, sons, and brothers unite. Military systems cannot hold out against

that. The view that mere empty routine can cope with things is more dangerous than lack of weapons. However, that is not a question which

relates directly to following the forest way. In this here the individual

determines the way in which he upholds freedom. When he decides to follow soldierly discipline, this will be transformed into freedom, will be one

of its forms, one of its means. The free man endows the weapon with meaning.