Allow me to explain.
This week, a new wave crashed against the shores of right wing twitter. Seemingly out of nowhere, the meme veterans of 2016 in near unison repudiated their support for Donald Trump, and jumped aboard the raft of the Democratic Presidential candidate, and former Obama appointee, Andrew Yang. To many this came as a shock, and a betrayal. Once fellow travelers, some cried out “Judas!” Andrew Yang is no Donald Trump. He does not give stump speeches about the dangerous immigrants pouring across the border. He does not accuse the globalist class of a conspiracy against the American public. In fact, Andrew Yang comes off as an entirely normal, well put together, nerdy Asian man, who holds positions that could be characterized as “normie-tier”. What could former Trump warriors see in the man? The answer is simple: $1000, and chill.
The message of Andrew Yang is this: America is a profitable corporation, and as such, it should pay out a dividend to its stockholders, and that dividend should be $1000 a month to every American over 18. Is that the whole of his platform, his “Free college,” his “Single payer?” Not at all, but it is the core of it – you could say at the heart of Andrew Yang’s platform is a bag of cash.
We can already hear the screeching:
Won’t that bankrupt the economy? Won’t that raise our taxes? Won’t this set off a hyper-inflationary spiral leading to the total collapse of the US dollar? How would this be paid for?
Shut up. Don’t ask so many questions about dumb and useless things like economics, or fiscal politics. All that stuff is a psy-op. As the Tao te Ching says: see without seeing, be without being. The ideology that can be named is not the universal ideology.
To understand the appeal of Andrew Yang beyond the gibs, you must tap into the imperceivable, and the un-nameable way. Pay attention to Yang’s framing. He paints a grim picture of America, a nation quite literally suicidal, opioid addicted, hopeless and depressed. The avenue by which the common man attained meaning, through his labor, is getting closed down, and heartless, soulless machine is replacing him. Silicon Valley and other industrial giants are going to take the job of Joe Sixpack, and he will never get that job back. Nothing can be done to stop it. And yet as he says this, he expresses empathy for the common man – something must be done to, in his own words, “reconstitute meaning in the lives of many Americans.” He does not offer the $1000/month plan as a replacement for work – he offers it as consolation to all Americans who have had to suffer and work all their lives, only to be rewarded with their own obsolescence. Despite the grim picture, there’s an optimism presented by Yang, about the future: there’s still work to be done, there’s still meaningful labor to do, there’s still purpose in our lives. Colleges will be automated too – those SJW professors plying critical race theory and anti-white hatred – the economy need them anymore than it needs cashiers. But you know who the world needs? Plumbers, HVAC guys, engineers, machine-men, builder, planners, artists, home-makers, care-takers, mothers, fathers and baby-sitters.
The Tao is composed of two forces, a flowing duality of Yin, the shady side, and Yang, the sunny side. The message of Andrew Yang is like a one-two punch of Yin – the social decay, the falling life expectancy, the plummeting birth rates, the inability to live your life without being crushed by debts and rents and costs – and Yang – a technologically accelerated future where everyone starts off on a somewhat equal footing, where everyone can expect to get their bread each month, where the policy is not driven by racial grievance. Can he deliver? Probably not. But it does not matter so much as going with the flow, of tapping into the nameless ideology that is the Tao.
And speaking of ideology, let’s remember the neoreactionary roots of our little Austistic Mercury. There once was a sage named Mencius Moldbug, who came up with an ideology while tinkering in his garage. He may have called it “formalism,” or some other thing. Moldbug proposed this: keep society exactly the same, but formalize the informal power-structures. Here Yang does exactly that – America is not a nation, but a joint-stock company, and its citizens are its share-holders, its government officials – corporate officers. Let us also remember one other, Nick Land, and his ululating prophecies of latter-day technocapitalism. Like Cthulhu, the machine-god of technocapitalism yet dreams, but sleep-walking he idiotically stumbles about, in exercise of power without conscious will, destroying lives around him as he is prepared for his awakening. Yang sees this blind-idiot god, and says, “There is no use in stopping him, let’s strap a saddle on him, and harness him.” The priests of technocapitalism shall make reparations to us, and pay for ruining our lives – maybe with a VAT tax. This too, is the message of Yang.
Andrew Yang is a political outsider. Although holding a post to which he was appointed by Barack Obama to promote entrepreneurship among American youth, he has never held an elected office. He’s not a Congressman, a Senator, a Mayor of any sort, and is therefore not corrupted by the shit-show of party politics. It is unlikely the DNC wants him around – media coverage tends to omit him from polling – the only person of his affiliation that the DNC and the media will seek to marginalize more is the anti-war darling Tulsi Gabbard, for obvious reasons. This is a positive. Nobody wants to support a doctrinaire. The meme-magic will not work for gray-faced party goons. But it will work for Yang – in fact, it already is working for Yang – precisely because he seemingly comes out of nowhere, and synthesizes a platform that does not alienate. He doesn’t race bait. He doesn’t call us deplorables, or sexists. He Gets It.
Here is an unknown Asian man, offering you $1000, and saying “accelerate this bitch.” Hyperinflationary spiral? Satanic mark of the beast? A bribe? A way of maintaining the stability of capitalism by using free cash as a social pressure valve? Probably all of the above. But so what? We were never going to stop any of that. We have already been eating from the trash-can. We have already been living in the circus along with the bearded ladies and the clowns, forced to ride unicycles and juggle like its our job – but has anyone offered us bread? Are we not the men amongst the ruins already? Has not the past half decade allowed us to return to our own country alien creatures, come to cleanse, and not to gladden? Let us accelerate – let us kick our spurs into the side of the tiger, and let him dash head-forward toward the inevitable – and let us send a message: we’re prepared that things will suck forever, so give us all $1000. We are going to have a lot of fun, and there’s nothing you can do to stop that. Enter the extortion mindset. Make a list of impossible demands. Let your drill pierce the heavens. Get $1000 and spend it on NEET stuff, or a gun you’ll bury in your back yard and say you lost in boating accident when the push comes to shove and its time to dig it up. Tap into the Tao of Yang, brother.
Let’s get that bread.