The New Man Fantasy

The New Man Fantasy

I grew up in a country where my government pretended that they were building “the new man” for a better age called “the golden age.” The old man was not good enough for their politics. The old man was sloppy on ideology, objected to murder, asked for a home instead of a matchbox flat, asked for a car instead of a seat in the tramway, asked for white bread instead of bread made from 3rd-category flour, honey instead of molasses, butter instead of margarine.

The old man wanted to live beside his work, wanted to laugh loudly, dance, sing whatever his ass wanted — and above all, he hated authority, even though he was born free.

The new man was the perfect docile example of what engineered numbness and the animalization of the human social cell was. After the revolution, my mom always said: “We were brought up like animals in a barn—ignorant of the exterior world, thinking falsehoods about ourselves and others, limited in our views, poor in spirit, fearful, and believing in lies.” We were trimmed to fit in the box provided by the system, and when the system collapsed, we grew branches everywhere. We were wild again — wild in the good sense of what a human was supposed to be. Radical freedom. Radically human.

A colonial project is the perfect fantasy of a new kind of society based on a new breed of man. If possible, they want it all new: new language, new societal organization, new types of relationships. All of it is good until the head of the show — the master puppeteers, whether officially recognized or hidden in the shadows as a shadow government — wants to use their brand-new type of colonist in order to fulfill a grandiose project of grandiose proportions.

The colonial government is just the head and mouth of a tick that wants only to fill its oversized body with the blood of anything it is hosting on. They suck the blood of the unfortunate who dare to think otherwise than their plans. The old man — the first category — is the original inhabitants of the land where the utopi-colonialist project is implemented. The second is the sucking of the blood of the natural man who is converging inside the tick’s body.

For the tick to grow, it must not only suck the blood but also alter it to make it digestible and create the new man inside. The children born inside are perfectly fantasticized new humans who perfectly serve the objectives of the new colonial cult.

The USSR was the project of a new man. It failed miserably. As grandiose as this experiment was, it failed — just like the Spartan experiment failed, just like the French Revolution failed. Humans, being humans, turn back from the “new man” to sloppy freedom lovers, back to human values, back to love.

The human heart is not made to hate but to love, and if there is no more love, it would probably cease to beat. By doing so, humans convince themselves that they are what they are. This is false. While a man can be monomaniacal and wear a very tight mask and role, his humanness will inevitably come back to challenge him in a conflict where ultimately his real nature comes out.

We are part cultural animals but mainly, our core is imprinted in our genes. When an external entity tells you what is right and wrong, subduing its ideology to your eyes and your heart’s sense of justice, you can bet not only that the system is doomed — the new man is doomed.

So better never try to change the world, but build a new one and keep the man old.