WOLFISM XLIX from Wolfie's blog

“Blessed are they who stand alone, for Leviathan has a place for them.”

What, then, of family, friends, co-workers, allies, or even pets? I’ll use the term “associates” to refer to all of these. I contend that even while encircled by my associates, I stand alone.

First, let’s consider how protective my associates really are in practical terms. My cat flees at the first hint of danger, leaving me to die if the danger is real. (A big dog would be the polar opposite of that, of course, but I’m dogless, because dogs require too much effort, with all this taking them for a walk, giving them baths, the list goes on.) My allies would drop me like a hot potato if my strategic position devolved. My co-workers would feed me to the wolves to save themselves without a second thought. I no longer have friends with whom I keep in touch, because maintaining the connection became more trouble than it was worth – so yes, I suck as a friend, primarily because I never depended on friends for anything important to begin with. Only my family would protect me when the chips are down, and lest you think otherwise: I would return the favor, as I’m not a complete asshole. Yet how often are my family in any real position to save my ass? Only very occasionally, in very special circumstances. On a daily basis I generally stand alone for all practical purposes, despite having people who care about me. And here’s the thing: I like it that way. I don’t ever want to sink complacently into the narcotizing delusion that the universe has my back. Even family can die, move away, become incapacitated (rendering them useless), or turn against me if they catch a glimpse of my Devil Inside. The safest course is always to have my own back: “to watch my own six” as I might say if I were a military man, which I’m not, partly because I don’t want to be responsible for watching somebody else’s six.

Second, let’s consider what psychological strength I draw from my associates. Short summary: I don’t draw any at all.         

Some draw psychological strength from their associates by virtue of the philosophical echo chamber they all live in. I don’t. First of all, I’m a staunch empiricist, materialist, carnality enthusiast, animality enthusiast, egotist, misanthrope, individualist, retributionist, libertine, schemer, and cutthroat - and of all my associates, only my cat is like me in every regard, with most of them unlike me in nearly every regard. (And my cat doesn’t speak, so the echo chamber potential is limited at best.) But more importantly, I reject echo chambers on principle. I do my own thinking.

I can’t emphasize this enough. Most people aren’t thinkers at all. They have thoughts, but that isn’t the same thing. The thoughts they have are whatever bubbles up from the collective. Examine their ideas and those of their associates: You’ll find an almost perfect homogeneity. Same epistemology, same metaphysics, same anthropology, same moral philosophy, same theory of happiness, same strategy for living. They draw comfort from this sameness. Intellectually, they feel safer in a group: they put their trust in having strength in numbers. I don’t do any of that. I draw comfort from the fact that my ideas are my own. I feel safer as an intellectual free agent, a philosophical lone wolf. I put my trust in my own mental abilities and disciplines, my own intellectual honesty and ruthless self-examination.

Does Leviathan – by which I mean the human species as a titan on the earth – have a place for me? Of course it does. Regardless what associates I have or don’t have encircling me – regardless what “isms” I carry or don’t carry in my mental apparatus – every dollar I earn or spend; every product or service I buy or sell; every idea I receive or distribute; these together simply can’t fail to provide Leviathan with oxygen, food, water, and body heat, and Leviathan likewise simply can’t fail to put money, products, services, and ideas into the physical or virtual spaces I inhabit. My mutual assured entanglement with Leviathan is unconditional, ending only when I die or wander off into the wilderness, never to be heard from again.

I am Homo economicus and a self-directed cell in the body of something Brobdingnagian. ISCHYROS DIAVOLOS!