[Or, How to Civilize an Alien Planet With Just Your Imagination]

5,601 words.

“If, as we have seen, the simplified, utilitarian descriptions of state officials had a tendency, through the exercise of state power, to bring the facts into line with their representations, then one might say that the high-modern state began with extensive prescriptions for a new society, and it intended to impose them.” – James C. Scott, on the concept of High Modernism

It is popularly held that mankind’s destiny is among the stars. It is taken for granted that we will one day achieve the technology to colonize new worlds. The spirit is willing. The technology beckons. The minds are unprepared.

The 19^th and 20^th centuries were largely defined by their proliferation of a novel intellectual construct called “ideology,” each iteration engineered to resolve a constellation of social maladies with systemic solutions. Marxism, Fascism, Anarchism, and Liberalism; each boast a cascade of denominations, revisions. These are examples most familiar to Western eyes, but any encapsulation containing social forces into a single equation to be solved with bold, mass coordination essentially functions as an ideology. Nearly all of them spring from systems-thinking, and the belief that political mathematics can be applied to create a utopia within the chaos of life.

This is not to say that all paradigm-shifts are ideological: while the French Revolution was certainly an outgrowth of radical Liberal ideology, the Industrial Revolution was not. At present, we lack a true reactionary ideology that responds to the information revolution, locked as we are in a 19th century mindset, reality slipping through our clockwork hands and into our boggled synapses of grasping at monarchical and mass-class-based schemas.

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Ideologies force us to simplify reality, but any attempt to study society at scale that does not factor in the animating force of ideologies is doomed to fail. Those who claim to be post-ideology frequently find themselves baffled as their predictions fail, believing that inferior operating systems cease functioning if people are conscious of them. They were created for a reason, their persistence is proof of utility, and there is truth that can only be revealed in these convoluted structures.

We are yet due for a paradigm shift to grapple with the fallout of the 19^th and 20th centuries. What could post-ideology look like?

Reaffirming The Eternal

The primary incapacity inherent to ideology is that they seek to replace both the natural world and the spiritual world with High Modernism, the belief embraced by modern states that we can scientifically systematize the natural world to maximize utility ^​1​. Replacing chaos with order, replacing suffering with happiness. Not only can humans put their hands on the scales of reality to our favor, but we can also break the scales. All ideologies – from Progressive to Fascist – believe they can create processes that remove faulty systems and replace them with beneficial ones.

While engineered to respond to social disruptions that leave huge swathes of society suffering or dead – technological upheavals, declining birthrates and suicide, manipulative elite publics – ideologies are particularisms that strive to be universalisms. Where things go awry is when we explode them out to describe all of reality, like when you trace Marxism down to the bedrock, past economics, past labour relations, and are confronted by figures such as Jacques Lacan explaining that the core of all reality is the male/female sexual dynamic. Dialectical Materialism assumes outrageous forms when released upon the power dynamics inherent to physics, spirituality, psychology.

The world is made better with ontological horniness personified in Slavoj Žižek, but it appears smeared and disjointed when superimposed over society.

With paradigms of the previous centuries in the receding horizon line, upon which shores do we anchor ourselves? Adherents of each ideology sit frustrated at either the lack of acceptance, or the lack material gains achieved after many of them reached their apex of influence. What they all have in common is the belief that the old world is dead; tradition is consigned to nostalgia and we must master an entirely new language.

Despite our attempts to sever connections to the world of tradition and spirituality, we remain shackled models that connect us to the mystical world, reaching deep into our genetic code. They can never be expunged even as our relentless self-analysis challenges every behavior that cannot assert itself pragmatically. Religion, mythology, hero worship, metaphysics; they all remain present, sprouting through the cracks in the modernist pavement. Even in Christian-dominated cultures, Pagan beliefs and mysticism still find their homes in the everyday folkways, smuggled subconsciously and revitalized through behaviors. Ancient superstitions persist in cultures dominated by new religious forms; this is why monotheists can still believe in charms and luck. Our distant past can be found right before our very eyes, woven into the blood of our speech, into the ghosts of our gestures.

Mircea Eliade’s “The Myth of the Eternal Return” paints a vivid picture, gathered from cultural histories across the planet, of how the ancient myths that still enjoy a place in our everyday lives are ritualistic repetitions of various creation myths. These rituals that represent the cycle of death and rebirth allow us to break free from the punishing chaos of the universe by acting out the divine creation every year ^​2​.

This allows us to control nature and step outside of time itself.

“Man only repeats the act of Creation; his religious calendar commemorates, in the space of a year, all the cosmogonic phases that took place ab origine. In fact, the sacred year ceaselessly repeats the Creation: man is contemporary with the cosmogony and with the anthropogony because ritual projects him into the mythical epoch of the beginning.”- Mircea Eliade, The Myth of the Eternal Return

The repetition of divine creation is a rebellion against profane time, otherwise known as the temporal river we are all bobbing along as powerless subjects. This is similar to how sacred founding of a city abolishes profane space: the colonists are consecrating a savage landscape. The archaic man does not enjoy profane history and frequently attempts to break it with rituals engaging the mystic world. This is how we come together to transcend time and space. We never, however, seek to make ourselves permanently apart. An essential part of every ritual is the re-immersion into the world.

We see these acts of creation reflected throughout our calendar year, even though they take a different form than what you are likely imagining. Christians have a day of rest, just as God did. Aborigines circumcised with stone tools, just as the gods did. Thanksgiving in America functions as a sacred day, and while it does not involve sacrificing a goat it bears a resemblance to how we treat Christmas.

The welding together of the human world and the mystical world can be expressed in ceremonies that reach outward, but we also see it directed inward as worship of the physical form. It can be found most extremely in the occult, where the human body is the model for the mystical world itself. Examples would be the importance of the pineal gland in occult rituals, the body being divided into heaven (the head), Earth (the spine,) and Hell (the reproductive organs,) and the use of blood magic. Even the devoutly monotheistic will engage with mystical healers that draw their trade from such esoteric research.

In the political works of Yukio Mishima – echoing the sentiments of many secular traditionalists – the peak perfection of the physical form is the ultimate ontology ^​3​. Mishima’s philosophy was ideological inasmuch as could be perceived at a distance to celebrate fascist tendencies, but in reality it owed much more debt to ancient Japanese warrior philosophy and paganism. This sentiment has found a devoted audience with modern political dissidents who endeavor to create a doctrine of action in an era shackled with meta-commentary and postmodernist pollution.

“The men who indulged in nocturnal thought, it seemed to me, had without exception dry, lusterless skins and sagging stomachs. They sought to wrap up a whole epoch in a capacious night of ideas, and rejected in all its forms the sun that I had seen. They rejected both life and death as I had seen them, for in both of these the sun had had a hand.” –  Yukio Mishima, Sun & Steel

It’s a trend we can witness centering many eccentric personalities with an equal number of bespoke messages. The politically active search desperately for a recipe to inspire change in their political conditions, having become disillusioned with intellectualism. As with their ancestors, they look towards their own savage hands. They lionize the man of action possessed by sheer will. Once more, the human body is the complete realization of the mystical dimension.

Once they strip away the metaphysics, they reveal the man of theory attempting to physically interface with divinity which remains beyond his grasp. Here, the distance is merely shortened. We never abandoned mystical rituals, we merely muted them. We never transcended the body, we merely lost ourselves in ideoplexes that separated us from action. We dream of conquering distant worlds, but when we arrive what will we plant there? A pulsing machine bursting with blood lacking memories, processes lacking meaning, movements lacking will?

Whichever direction you are facing, it is impossible to remove the participation of our physical forms in achieving metaphysical transcendence. Even as we attempt to separate ourselves from our material conditions to resolve them, we inevitably find ourselves only hovering above them.

The Vibrating Stone Tower of Soul

Man’s destiny is to seduce and penetrate the spiritual world. Whether it’s Indian, Japanese, or German mythologies, all great peoples have their distinct methodologies to interface with the mystical, and this is the primary charge of their heroes. We never, however, completely exit the natural world.

In “Anthropomorphics,” Dennis Bouvard channels Eric Gans and his Originary Theory of generative anthropology. It is a controversial theory, but tickles the mind to wander speculatively into the earliest stages of human communal development. Peering back towards the pre-paleolithic origins of humankind, Gans hypothesizes how the building blocks of first tribes emerged, a graduation of pre-society and indeed pre-language ^​4​. Placing ourselves millions of years in the past, we are instructed to imagine how this apparent relationship with the mystical world began. What were the proto-rituals, and how were the rituals initially ascertained? For what purpose did language even develop between members of a group? Further, why do we have these belief systems to unite us at all?  Certainly, language was innovated to communicate crucial information, but how did it move from alerts to information transactions?

There is not even an inkling of a historical record of this, and as a result all ideation must begin with the admission that this can only ever be illuminating fiction. Despite this, we can still explore some interesting areas of inquiry.

Gans hypothesizes that we conjured sacred communal rituals merely to interface with the unknown through hierarchical displays, at first to make sense of our relationships with each other, and then to make sense of our relationship with the universe. In what’s known as “Originary Scene,” we are invited to imagine our privative forbearers, lacking language or even community. One day, these hominids – akin to the opening scene of 2001: A Space Odyssey – reach a eureka moment as they gather around a dead antelope and, rather than scrambling to consume the carcass and likely injuring each other in the process, a spark of recognition breaks them from their egoism.

“Gans assumes that the mimetic crisis is organized around some object of appetitive desire – most likely a food source, perhaps a recent kill. Ordinarily, among the higher primate species, the object would be consumed in order, first the Alpha animal, then the Beta, and so on. But on this occasion, the mimetic rivalry introduced by the object overrides the pecking order as all members of the group move towards the object at the center. Appetite becomes ‘desire,’ that is, a social phenomenon involving one’s relation to others and not merely the object itself. Desire intensifies the mimetic crisis. However, within the group, some member hesitates, presumably out of something like terror (‘anxiety’ would not be quite right here,) is seen by others to hesitate, and is imitated by others. The gesture indicates a renunciation, perhaps momentary (but that is enough,) of the desired object. This, what Gans calls ‘the gesture of the aborted appropriation,’ is the first sign.” – Dennis Bouvard, Anthropomorphics, An Originary Grammar of the Center

The “center” that the primates gather around contains an object of desire, in this instance a food source. We see sheer animal desire and fear give way to more complex mimetic interactions; rather than just fearing the strength of the autocratic alpha and falling to self-interest after that power is fulfilled, we have introduced power to the center itself, thereby granting those who desire it a language with which to interact both with it and through it. The communal circle is mediated by the object, hauling their minds towards it and forcing the creation of new communication forms.

We channel our desire through this center and use it to connect with each other in a completely new way.

Subsequent social development changes what occupies that center, beginning with the concept of “this is how we behave around a food source to secure the health of everyone,” which then metamorphizes to centering “this is how we must behave to secure future food,” perhaps ritualizing preparations for a hunt or employing superstitions that ensure luck. This gradually develops into rituals engaging with an abstract spirit that will ensure the security of food, then ultimately the worship of this apparent power that keeps the tribe united, although the entire time we remain tethered to this primordial frame. We remain anchored to the creation myth of the center, to that what channels desire and demands mediation through creative processes.

The existence of the center of every community is this amorphous plasma consisting of survival, desire, community, history, and precision through action. It is impossible to separate these components from each other.

Humans developed society the way an infant develops their mind; a symphony of desire and hardcoded survival processes stretching their hands towards more complex goals, and then towards contextual social values, then if they are unlucky mindwarping philosophy. All along the way, it is the same mechanisms constructing themselves, and the same original relationship with the divine unknown as represented through our very real and immediate relationship with the universe.

There was no separation between our actions and our collaboration with the spiritual world, they just evolved over time. Ultimately they were commoditized and corporatized as everything is, but the thrust of this argument is that we need a mystical center around which we mediate complex group organization and craft rituals of transaction to spurn advancement.

Phenomenology presents another way to marry the mystical realm to the corporeal realm, and by extension the ideological world. In phenomenology, consciousness takes primacy due to its intentionality, and thus is concerned with the universe as perceived phenomena without any presuppositions. This precludes whether or not the phenomenon in question exists in the material world (detectable by our sense inputs), or our linguistic representations, even our imagination ^​5​.

Horses, chairs, light, pizzas “exist” whether you can touch them or picture them in your mind’s eye. We can see a horse standing in a field and be sure it exists, but if we close our eyes and imagine a horse in the same scene, both are referring to the existence-independent category of a horse. There is a Platonic Form of this thing called a “horse,” and it will survive if all horses become absent from the material world.

Furthermore, what is a chair, in an a priori sense? Alternatively, what is the essence of a chair once all the sensory data and physical particulars are stripped away? Does it refer to an amalgamation of matter that can be sat upon? Because if so, a lizard perched upon a rock is on a chair, and even to the uninitiated something about that screams inaccuracy. Does it need to be made out of wood, or is it material independent? Must it have a specific design? Most would say yes, and that implies it must be created by humans for human purposes.

We have thus summoned into being the unique category of “chair,” and the existence of the chair is real if a sketch of it beheld by an extraterrestrial and stamped in its own mind. The chair is understood to be irreducible. Because Phenomenology grounds itself in the theory of intentionality, it affords the observer certain privileges since the perceiver can never exist outside of existence. It is immersed in the real, so representations of this reality constitute, in some form, reality itself.

This grants power not only to those summoning a communal portal within the Originary Scene, but also the validity of the theory itself as we bestow out intentionality unto it.

“If it is true that I am sitting on a horse, both the horse and I must exist. If it is true that I intend a horse, the horse does not need to exist. Thus, an important aspect of intentionality is exactly its existence-independency. It is never the existence of the intentional object that makes the act, be it a perception or a hallucination, intentional. Our mind does not become intentional through an external influence, and it does not lose its intentionality if its object ceases to exist. Intentionality is not an external relation that is brought about when consciousness is influenced by an object, but is, on the contrary, an intrinsic feature of consciousness. […] Thus, intentionality does not presuppose the existence of two different entities – consciousness and the object.” – Dan Zahavi, Husserl’s Phenomenology

There are a variety of ways to encode humanity onto the universe, and this is one of the many ways human societies are distinct in non-trivial ways. This is why our values are so real to us, even though they inhabit our mind and are manifested temporarily in interactions. Our rituals stamp our fingerprints onto the unknown, our imagination sits alongside the real, our social systems are divine entities negotiated with our environment. This is why our beliefs are so vivid and crucial, and why the diverse ways groups employ these rituals and tools create higher walls of division than secular humanists want to accept.

Consider this: if we were dropped onto an alien world, what would we as colonists replicate to transpose our humanity onto a distinctly inhuman planet? How would we as extraterrestrials ourselves dominate that space differently than we did it in the past to adhere to a new existence? Can the genetic code of our civilizations survive with the same human element but a different environmental element? When confronted with a truer unknown that we would have ever witnessed on Earth, would we abandon our nihilistic secularism and engineer a new, but familiar, spirituality around the center?

In practice, would we bring soil from our homeland and transplant it onto new land, as Romulus did during the foundation of Rome as a replication of Troy? We would need to conjure the spirit again as our ancestors did, but with radically different minds. To impose our existence onto the unknown in the form of a replicated civilization, we will need an extremely surgical intentionality couples with profound rituals.

The Man at the Head of the Man as a Head

Civilizations have life cycles like lumbering and plagued behemoths. While we struggle to comprehend the intersectional cellular behavior of internal forces – economics, culture, religion, political dynasties, etc. – we can at the very least record its larger movements from retrospective vantage points. Despite the heightened awareness electrifying the individual DNA strands populating modern nations, we still have not transcended the geopolitical dominance of civilizations. The American Empire still exists, despite its efforts to convince the world it does not. Its influence is ethereal in its colossity.

George Bataille, in his study of the phenomenon of surplus, put forth a theory that a society consumed and recycled resources like a living entity, comparing it to how living creatures must consume more resources than it needs to not only maintain itself, but be put towards growth ^​6​. He was acutely looking at how energy is produced by the devouring of resources in the form of whatever was essential for the functioning of that society at the time; wheat, gold, slaves, etc.

He posited that whether it is a predator devouring prey or a business consuming labour, there is always surplus in every exchange as a universal constant. Rather than the wicked scheme of capitalists, it is an inescapable consequence of life.  As long as the animal, human, or system is growing, the surplus energy consumed is being burned off productively. Since infinite growth is unrealistic, every life form eventually reaches its ceiling where growth is impossible. What happens when growth is impossible, but every energy transaction contains more than we need? Well, what happens to the body when it consumes too many resources and has nothing to do with the excess? It gets fat, it gets sick, it becomes prone to ailments.

If the surplus cannot be expelled in growth, it must be destroyed in some other way. This form of destruction is either glorious sacrifice, or hazardous dissipation. This is what is known as the accursed share.

“The living organism, in a situation determined by the play of energy on the surface of the globe, ordinarily receives more energy that is necessary for maintaining life; the excess energy (wealth) can be used for growth of a system (e.g., an organism); if the system can no longer grow, or if the excess cannot be completely absorbed by its growth, it must necessarily be lost  without profit; it must be spent, willingly or not, gloriously or catastrophically.” – Georges Bataille, The Accursed Share

Bataille’s area of focus is economics – specifically – wealth accumulation, so when applied to accumulation of capital through financial transactions it turns into a hoard which atrophies the holder.

In this sense, whatever has enough value to represent contextual capital must be willingly sacrificed in a public display. Surplus agriculture is productively destroyed in feasts, surplus resources are expelled in lavish festivals, and surplus people are sacrificed at the altar otherwise they rot in the gutters. This revivifies the populace and stands as an impetus through which to hold the indispensable mystical rituals that secure dominion over the inner and outer worlds.

A good leader needs to die for their people – for the larger system – for this entity that is always being kept in balance. Rather than a manifestation of the divine, the leader is the ultimate sacrifice to the divine.

Applying this theory to nations and empires, he explains that to maintain healthy stasis, surplus must be productively destroyed, otherwise it will be unproductively destroyed. While Bataille’s agenda is nakedly anti-capitalistic and his solution to this problem is for America to redistribute its wealth around the world, the conceptualization of surplus as an inevitable – nigh thermodynamic – reality of exchange is interesting.

Civilizations have always existed with the figurehead – king, emperor, khan – as the representative conscience with the consent of the elites and people, but directing the entity alongside the mythology, which constitutes its soul. Even now, the greatest city-states and nations on Earth can trace their roots to foundational families and dynasties, either biologically or otherwise existentially existing as an extension of its own creation myth. In these stories exist a few key people who have reached heroic stature; decisions do not flow from them, but everything flows through them. This doesn’t need to owe a time debt to millennia: Americans have their Founding Fathers, China has Confucius, but even in the emergence of syndicates in wake of governmental collapse and remain entrenched, as we see with the shifting identity of the samurai. In one form or another, the organism of civilization is defined by these genetic codes and chosen leaders must exist within their shadow.

In this sense, the conscience of a civilization cannot be represented in the leader, only occupied by the leader. Joseph De Maistre, in his exploration of the very nature of sovereignty, explains that rather than a status achieved through the exertion of power, sovereignty is an essence that must be occupied ^​7​. Like the accused share, this is a naturally occurring phenomenon rather than a social construct. It is an inevitable thing that must be reckoned with if we wish to maintain a healthy society.

At the center of a coherent civilization there is a space that demands a human presence otherwise its form cannot hold, and it is either occupied by one person (in the case of a monarchy) or by several people (in the case of an oligarchy.) Throughout history there have been a multitude of cases where a society existed not with a figurehead but rather a collection of elites running the show. De Maistre’s position is that these are the only two possible realities; there has never been a civilization, nation, or empire that is controlled by the people, or by an abstract principle or rule of law. Any system that claims to be run by the people is in reality controlled from the shadows by some form of elite. If nobody occupies sovereign space, degradation ensues.

“The different forms and degrees of sovereignty have made us think that it was the work of peoples that had modified it at their pleasure; but nothing could be further from the truth.  All peoples have the government that suits them, and none has chosen it. It is remarkable that it is nearly always to its misfortune that a people tries to give itself one, or, to put it more exactly, that too large a portion of the people aim at this object; for, in this disastrous experiment, it is too easy for the people to deceive itself as to its true interests; to pursue doggedly what cannot suit it, and, on the contrary, to reject what suits it best; and we know how terrible the errors of this kind.” – Joseph de Maistre, On Sovereignty

Rather than a power-hungry autocracy, the interplay between those in authority, the foundational spirit caretaken by the people, and the elites that occupy the oft ancient institutions, is the true form of a vibrant society. The monarch is simply the momentary occupant of a space within a much larger and complex system, the organs of which operate largely beyond their control. Their job, like the job of your own consciousness, is to keep the organism on the momentum of survival, an organism that otherwise operates beyond conscious control.

We know what a healthy organism looks like when these spaces are occupied by healthy entities, and we definitely know what they are like when occupied by unhealthy entities. In the case of Emperor Nero in Rome, we see what happens when a great empire is inflicted with insanity, its conscience corrupted, its sovereignty turned against itself. Nero separated himself from the organs of power and Rome’s ancient institutions carving a path of destruction against its elites and literally wandering the streets at night as a deranged rapist ^​8​. The organism was stricken by sickness, exemplified in the great fire of Rome that swept through it under his reign. The kingmaker organ, known as the Praetorian Guard, which had both approved of the ascension of Nero and ushered him into his position as the shepherd of the very soul of Rome, was eventually called upon to extinguish him. The consciousness of Rome was corrupted by madness, and the body marshaled its forces to preserve the gene so the soul may continue, the forces themselves generated from the people as reciprocal stewards of the essence of the organism. And while the civilizational organism has such internal process through which to expel toxins, the slow entropy of death can surely be amplified by such infections.

Such corruption can, unsurprisingly, turn the body against its own mind. This is how the organism dies; it no longer has faith in its own form or right to exist.

In this vibrant societal model, we see the complex relationship between a society’s population, its leaders, its elite, its foundational mythology, and the historical circumstances that act as the environment. At no point is the civilizational organism separate from the mystical realm that connects us to our natural environment. To extract one component and give it precedence would kill the entity; the civilization is greater than the sum of its parts. The entire reason it exists is to propagate itself into the future, and reducing its complexity would inhibit this goal surely as if you began counting your breaths and consciously operating your limbs.

The Fingers of God Emerge Like Nuclear Ghosts

In the first volume of Arthur Schopenhauer’s “The World as Will and Representation,” he outlined the irreducible elements of the universe; that when all sensory input was stripped away, we still have space and time.  Alongside these, he included the “will” as an inherent force everything in the universe possesses, including intelligent life and inert matter. The will is irrational and aimless; it merely describes how forces and objects appear to be animated to action ^​9​. An individual has a will to fulfill their desires, but similarly an asteroid hurling through the vacuum of space has a will. Intelligence, in this view, is just a higher form of will, while the laws of physics are a lower form of will. Similarly, gravity has gradations of complexity, with the attraction of masses as the lower end and electromagnetism as a higher form.

“Spinoza says that if a stone which has been projected through the air, had consciousness, it would believe that it was moving of its own free will. I add this only, that the stone would be right. The impulse given it is for the stone what the motive is for me, and what in the case of the stone appears as cohesion, gravitation, rigidity, is in its inner nature the same as that which I recognise in myself as will, and what the stone also, if knowledge were given to it, would recognise as will.” –  Arthur Schopenhauer, The World as Will and Representation, Vol. 1

Anything that is animated by will – the essence of action itself – will continue on its path until it intersects with the will of another, like the asteroid striking a planet exerting its own will orbiting a star system. In a vacuum of space and time, the will continues on forever. In the real world, is impossible to imagine an object existing without intersecting with the will of another on a long enough timeline, even on a microscopic level. This is to say that all objects, phenomena, and energies in the known universe have something approximating an irreducible spirit, and nothing – not rocks, not molecules, not a bucket of water – is simply inert.  

What we conceptualize in our minds – what we believe – exists categorically just like anything in the material world. Furthermore, it can never truly exist apart from it, and we should not even desire to create simplified systems that attempt to exclude nature due to perceived lack of immediate utility. All that exists has a spirit that animates it, just at varying levels of complexity. While it may not be life, it is alive. Your beliefs are real as long as you are the cultivator of them. Our ancestors embodied this even if they did not consciously apprehend these ideas. Rituals could pierce another dimension. Weak minds were open to malignant intrusion. Words were magic.

Nature itself is not static, and what may seem like stale repetition in the form of ritual is in fact a reassertion of the dominance necessary to establish communication with the unknown. New unknowns will demand new rituals.  Even though one may recognize the inexorable joining of the people to the time and place it generated, you become a force of generation and there is no reason to believe that you need to imprison yourself in your location or time. If you believe this, you will inhibit your chances of survival.

If man intends to colonize strange new worlds and project his influence across creation, he will never do this from a position of secular scientific historicism. The essence of civilization is a living organism that is just as real as the blood and soil materialism which informs our geopolitical period, but conversely this organism cannot be transplanted without the divine relationship to the blood and the soil along with it.

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