Esau and Jacob

I fought with my twin
That enemy within
'Til both of us fell, by the way

— "Where Are You Tonight (Journey Through the Dark Heat)", Bob Dylan

One of the best quotes by one of my favorite authors and trolls, Michael Malice, is that "conservatism is just progressivism driving the speed limit". Evidently, this is true, as most conservatives don't stand in any firm ideological ground and merely just express nostalgia for whatever happened when they were kids and, therefore, naïve. Recently, though, I came across a more "psychological" view of the issue that seems just as true to me.

One of my favorite Brazilian influencers, for the lack of a better term, is the writer Pedro Sette-Câmara. Although a disciple of the late Olavo de Carvalho, who although very politically influential on Brazil as the author of the as far as I know untranslated O Jardim das Aflições is perhaps best known worldwide for either his debate with Russian philosopher Alexandr Dugin or his contributions to the understanding of classical Platonist and Aristotelian philosophies, Sette-Câmara has parted ways with his former mentor in many regards, though certainly not completely. Nowadays, he seems more interested in talking about literature and much less in politics, though often he does have great observations to make.

For once, take the Brazilian romance Esau and Jacob by legendary author Machado de Assis, that happens in the turn of the 19th to the 20th century. From the title, you can imagine a story about fighting twins, but this is merely the tip of the iceberg. Given the promise by a half-Indian fortune-teller that good "things of the future" would happen to her twin children, Natividade develops intense anxiety over what the future holds for her family. "They fought in their mother's womb, so what? People fight out here too. Your sons will be glorious," the seer said. Maybe that has something to do with the Brazilian revolutions that destroyed our monarchy and instituted the republic?

Ironically, Natividade was not too happy about the pregnancy. It meant, after all, no more parties, no more fun. "There went balls and parties, there went liberty and leisure. (...) Such was the first sensation of the mother, and the first impulse was to crush the seed. She became angry at her husband," we read in chapter 6. An amazing storyteller, Machado de Assis is not suggesting that the mother was angry at her children or her life, but merely explaining the emotional roller-coaster of pregnancy. As soon as the boys Pedro and Paulo (Peter and Paul, after the saints) were born, you can see that she is as worried and neurotically careful as a normal Brazilian mother, and fears for their future when she notices that all they do is fight.

For historical context, although very unpopular by the time, slavery was abolished in Brazil in 1888, the republic installed in 1889 and the current constitution written in 1989, which makes it hard for anyone to take seriously the appeal to any sort of Brazilian political tradition. Pedro was a conservative and Paulo a revolutionary, but what does that really mean? The former is a monarchist, the latter a republican. The former sees the end of slavery as "an act of justice" and the latter as "the beginning of the revolution". The former loves Louis XIV, the latter Robespierre. The former is a conservative and the latter a revolutionary.

If it weren't obvious enough that the brothers defined themselves through the competition with one another, they supposedly love the same woman, Flora, who is genuinely divided between them. The most interesting character in the book, our lily of the west seems like the only flesh-and-blood person in the story.

She also envied the imperial princess, who would become the empress one day, with the absolute power to dismiss ministers and ladies, visitors and petitioners, and then to remain alone, in the innermost rooms of the palace, luxuriating in contemplation and music. That was how Flora defined the task of governing. These ideas came and went. Once someone said to her, as if to spur her on: "Every free soul is an empress!"

However, because the two characters only define themselves in opposition to their twin, they live as a function of pure mimetic desire. Because Paul wants a revolution, I, Peter, will fight to conserve our current political establishment. Because Peter wants to be keep our political landscape, I, Paul, will fight for a revolution. And, of course, Paulo wins in the end, after all Brazil still is a republic. Not only that, he found a way to be a revolutionary against the current government because revolutions are never over. As Lenin would say, "When the Revolution is out of danger, external and domestic, then free speech might be indulged in."

And this is how Machado de Assis was the first author I know of to say that conservatives are just progressives driving the speed limit.

Sette-Câmara's twist is more psychological. What if conservatives and progressives are just holding their opinions to spite their adversaries? Are they really all that different? What is conservatism if not a vague opposition to whatever is considered progressive now? Were it not for your enemy's desires, would you even desire whatever it is you desire now? Are these political beliefs real, or are they just a mask? It doesn't even need to be political, as the twins' mother Natividade, a Catholic, was also going to an indian seer and she "had faith, but [was] also embarrassed about what others might think, like a devout who crosses himself in secret."

His approach is Girardian in nature. I can vouch for the Church father René Girard for having influenced many people I admire such as Sette-Câmara and the music historian Ted Gioia, but as of now I haven't read a page of him directly. Whenever he is the subject of discussion, though, I can't help but wonder: how much of whatever belief I, or anyone else, hold is merely a form of spite? And reading Esau and Jacob, knowing the tragic fate of Flora, who raves and dies out of an illness of the heart for the two men who seemed to "love" her merely out of spite, how much suffering do I, or anyone else, cause to innocent people as a byproduct of said spite?