The Anarch's View: Ernst Jünger, British Decline Commentary, and Why This Neurodivergent Political Observer Watches UK Institutional Failure From These Four Walls.

Moral certainty breeds violence, ideological prisons capture minds, and British political hypocrisy masks institutional failure—an anti-establishment view of observing social collapse UK.

Oct 09, 2025

This split image captures what Ernst Jünger called the anarch's position: the threshold between order and chaos, participation and withdrawal, the performance and the forest. On the left, the human show plays out—moral preachers convinced of their righteousness, ideological tribes warring over shadows, the predictable path from certainty to violence that characterises British social collapse. On the right, the sanctuary of the four walls, where observation remains possible without tribal capture. It's not cynicism. It's clarity. When you're not emotionally invested in the performance, when your neurodivergent wiring gives you that slight remove from the theatre, you see patterns others miss. You notice the same scripts with different actors, the same moral certainty breeding the same violence, the institutional failure everyone's ignoring whilst they fight culture wars. This is British decline commentary from the border—neither heroic nor inspiring, but effective. Read the full essay on how a neurodivergent political observer accidentally discovered he'd been living Jünger's anarch philosophy all along.

The Anarch’s View: Observing British Social Collapse from Sanctuary - Ernst Jünger Philosophy.

If you’ve been following my previous posts, you’ll be well aware of me describing these four walls, so to speak, being my safe space from the asylum of the world beyond, and the increasing lunacy of the people. This safe space, where I can view British decline commentary at a distance, unencumbered by the outspill of the overemotional, irrational, adult nappy-wearing (as I quite deliberately, often refer to them) population. So, when, by sheer accident, I discovered Ernst Jünger’s concept of the “anarch”—a philosophical position of inner sovereignty and detachment while living within society’s structures—it resonated with me far more than anything else I’ve read in years. As a neurodivergent political observer, I am this “anarch” he describes so vividly by default of the life I’ve lived, and where I am right now with it. Looking out at UK institutional failure, British political hypocrisy, and observing ‘social collapse UK’ from the threshold.

Why This Neurodivergent Political Observer Sees Patterns Others Miss.

Now, before we get into Ernst Jünger’s anarch properly, it’s worth explaining why his concept landed with such force. I didn’t arrive at this anti-establishment UK perspective through some dramatic disillusionment or philosophical awakening. I’ve always been this way—standing back, observing, assessing. It’s partly down to neurodiversity, I suspect. That slight remove from the emotional theatre most people seem to live in, that ability to watch the performance without feeling compelled to join it.

My framework’s always been straightforward: is something logical? Is it practical? Ideally both? If it’s neither, it’s not worth my time or effort. Simple as that. And when you apply that filter to most of human behaviour—particularly the collective madness we’re witnessing in British decline commentary—very little survives the test.

The emotional hysteria over things that don’t matter. The investment in tribal loyalty over observable reality. The willingness to ignore practical consequences for ideological purity. The sheer volume of noise generated by people who’ve never stopped to ask whether what they’re doing actually makes sense or achieves anything useful.

From my position—these four walls, looking out—it’s not hard to see. The human show plays out there: part comedy, part tragedy, mostly farce. And the beauty of standing back is you can see the patterns others miss when they’re caught up in the performance. You notice the same scripts playing out with different actors. The same moral certainty and violence are playing out across centuries. The same tribal instincts dressed up in whatever current language makes them feel sophisticated.

It’s not cynicism, exactly. More like... clarity. When you’re not emotionally invested in the performance, when you’re not trying to be part of any tribe, when you’re simply watching and applying basic logic to what you observe, the absurdity becomes impossible to miss. And once you see it—really see it—you can’t unsee it.

So when Ernst Jünger described the anarch as someone who “passes through their sequence—as inoffensively as possible—like a suite of rooms,” observing “partly as a spectacle, partly for one’s own safety,” I recognised myself immediately. Not because I’d aspired to this position, but because I’d been living it by default. My neurodiversity gave me the detachment. My logical framework gave me the filter. The combination made me a natural spectator of the human comedy-tragedy, neither fully participant nor fully removed, just... watching from the threshold.

And from here, the view’s remarkably clear.

Ernst Jünger’s Anarch: The Philosophy of Inner Sovereignty Amidst British Decline.

“The anarch moves through ideologies like rooms in a stranger’s house—observing the danger, appreciating the spectacle, but never mistaking the walls for the world, knowing that those who claim absolute answers build prisons, and those who preach with moral certainty prepare for violence. He sharpens his eyes and ears at the threshold between order and chaos, committed neither to preservation nor destruction, but to the substance beneath the shadow. Where the liberal struggles against the regime and the believer surrenders to dogma, the anarch passes through inoffensively, a border guard in no man’s land who takes nothing ultimately seriously yet falls into no nihilism. He understands that every system of thought that promises completion is a cell with invisible bars, and that the distance between righteous speech and righteous bloodshed is shorter than most dare to admit. His freedom lies not in opposition but in refusal—not the refusal to participate, but the refusal to belong, to be captured, to let any temporary arrangement of power or truth define the borders of his inner sovereignty.”

Robert Jenrick Handsworth and UK Institutional Failure: The Anarch’s View of British Political Hypocrisy.

This anarch position—this refusal to be captured by any side’s certainty—is exactly what I was doing in my recent piece on Robert Jenrick’s Handsworth comments. I watched both sides perform their outrage, saw British political hypocrisy on all fronts, identified the real problem (UK institutional failure, not integration), and refused to join either tribe’s moral crusade. I didn’t have Ernst Jünger’s language for it then, but I was already standing at the border, observing the spectacle, sharpening my eyes between competing certainties that both missed the substance beneath their shadows. That’s what the anarch does: he sees the bins aren’t collected and knows it’s about money and policy, not demographics and culture—even whilst everyone else is screaming about race and integration because those fights are easier than admitting decades of UK institutional failure and abandonment.

Moral Certainty and Violence: The Pattern This Neurodivergent Political Observer Sees Everywhere.

Here’s a pattern you’ll notice once you start looking: the straighter the line from moral preaching to actual bloodshed. When people stop treating opponents as merely wrong and start treating them as evil, violence stops being a possibility and becomes a moral duty. The moralist doesn’t see himself as the aggressor—he’s the righteous enforcer, and that’s precisely what makes him dangerous.

Political disagreement becomes cosmic warfare. Compromise becomes complicity. Moderation becomes cowardice. And if you’re not just wrong but actually evil, well, anything I do to you is justified, isn’t it?

The anarch watches this moral certainty and violence play out across centuries and systems: the Jacobin and his virtue, the commissar and his historical necessity, the crusader and his holy duty. Different words, same bloody outcome. Moral language doesn’t stop violence when it’s absolute—it authorises it. The anarch’s refusal to speak this language isn’t relativism; it’s recognising that those most convinced of their righteousness are often most capable of atrocity.

The Anarch, The Liberal, and The Believer: Why Anti-Establishment UK Perspective Differs.

The liberal and the anarch both see tyranny coming, but they respond differently. The liberal stays invested in politics, convinced that the right system will deliver justice and freedom if we just implement it properly. He fights bad regimes, champions good ones, and expends enormous energy in the struggle. His identity gets wrapped up in political outcomes—celebrating victories, despairing at defeats.

The anarch? He treats all regimes as temporary arrangements. None deserves his ultimate loyalty. He passes through tactically—taking what helps, avoiding what threatens—but never mistakes any particular setup for truth itself. This anti-establishment UK perspective isn’t rebellion—it’s refusal of ultimate commitment.

The believer’s different again. He’s surrendered his inner sovereignty, but to something he considers transcendent rather than temporal. When it’s genuine—when it’s aimed at actual spiritual substance rather than political shadow—the anarch can respect that. But when belief hardens into ideology, when mystery calcifies into certainty, when faith demands enforcement? Then the believer becomes just another jailer, and his prison is often the hardest to escape because he’s convinced you it’s paradise.

The anarch wants substance without surrender, meaning without imprisonment. He’s not playing their games.

Inside Ideological Prisons UK: How Moral Certainty Captures Minds.

Ideologies are seductive because they offer what we’re desperate for: complete explanations, moral clarity, tribal belonging, and the comfort of certainty in an uncertain world. Finally, everything makes sense! History, justice, human nature, the path forward—all sorted.

But that completeness is the trap. These ideological prisons the UK operate invisibly.

The ideology answers your questions before you ask them. It thinks your thoughts before you think them. It draws boundaries around what’s acceptable to consider and what must be dismissed. The bars are invisible because they’re internalised—you don’t feel trapped because you’ve forgotten what questions you’re no longer allowed to ask.

Every event gets filtered through the ideology’s categories. Every person is sorted into predetermined boxes. Every situation is interpreted according to its scripts. Complexity flattened, ambiguity resolved, mystery eliminated. The true believer doesn’t feel imprisoned because he’s forgotten there was ever anything outside these walls. He’s mistaken the map for the territory so completely that the territory’s ceased to exist for him.

And here’s the really insidious bit: it feels like enlightenment. The new convert experiences revelation. The world’s chaos resolves into pattern, confusion into clarity. He’s been given the decoder ring, admitted to the inner circle of those who understand. This emotional satisfaction makes these ideological prisons UK nearly impossible to escape, because leaving means returning to uncertainty, to thinking without a template, to the vulnerability of not knowing.

The anarch recognises this trap from outside. He might study ideologies, even use their insights tactically, but he never moves in permanently. He keeps what Ernst Jünger called “the forest”—that wild space beyond all settlements where you can retreat when any particular bit of civilisation becomes too confining. It’s not ignorance or indifference; it’s cultivated resistance to capture, a commitment to preserving the space where genuine thought remains possible.

Freedom Through Saying No: The Anarch’s Refusal in British Decline Commentary.

The anarch’s freedom isn’t the liberal’s political freedom (the right laws and institutions) or the rebel’s freedom (won through opposition). It’s interior freedom, maintained regardless of external circumstances. That’s why he can pass through different regimes “inoffensively”—he’s not fighting them because he’s not ultimately subject to them. His sovereignty is portable, residing not in any system but in his refusal to grant any system final authority over his inner life.

This gets misunderstood as apathy or cynicism in British decline commentary. But the anarch isn’t indifferent—he’s just clear about what deserves his ultimate commitment. He participates in society, follows many of its rules, and might even work within its institutions. But always with reserve, a part held back. He doesn’t confuse tactical compliance with genuine allegiance. When regimes change, he adapts. When ideologies shift, he adjusts. But something in him remains untouched, ungoverned, free.

This is what Ernst Jünger meant by “substance” versus “shadow.” Political systems are shadows—they change, they pass, they’re temporary. The substance—truth, beauty, meaning, existence itself—remains beneath these shifting forms. The anarch refuses to let his deepest commitments be captured by any particular historical moment. He knows what matters and what’s just noise.

Observing Social Collapse UK: Welcome to the Madhouse.

Right, let’s be honest about what Britain’s become: a bloody circus where the clowns are armed and nobody’s quite sure who’s running the show. You step out your front door in Birmingham or Bradford, Manchester or London, and you’re navigating a social minefield where the wrong look, wrong word, or wrong postcode can escalate from zero to stabbing faster than you can say “cultural enrichment.”

This isn’t hyperbole—it’s Tuesday. This is observing the ‘social collapse UK’ in real time.

The anarch watches this with grim amusement. Not because violence is funny, but because the sheer predictability becomes darkly comic. Of course, a society that’s replaced shared values with therapeutic platitudes and cultural confidence with guilt-ridden self-flagellation would end up with aggression on the streets. What did we expect? That people from radically incompatible belief systems would hold hands and sing “Imagine” once they got here? That abandoning every principle except “diversity is our strength” would somehow produce actual strength rather than chaos?

British Political Hypocrisy: The Moral Preachers and Their Body Count.

Here’s where Ernst Jünger’s observation about moral certainty and violence becomes deliciously, horrifyingly relevant. Britain is drowning in moral preaching. Everyone’s got the absolute truth, and everyone’s prepared to make you live by it—or at least make your life hell if you don’t. This British political hypocrisy operates at every level.

The progressive left has its commandments: acknowledge your privilege, centre marginalised voices, decolonise everything, and for God’s sake, don’t misgender anyone or you’re literally committing violence. Break these rules and you’re not just wrong—you’re evil. You’re a bigot, a fascist, a threat to vulnerable people. And once you’re evil, anything done to you is justified, isn’t it? Losing your job, your reputation, your ability to function in society—that’s not punishment, that’s justice. The moralism is so thick you could cut it with a knife. And increasingly, people are.

Then you’ve got the religious fundamentalists—and let’s not pretend it’s just one flavour. You’ve got imported Islam in its various intensities, from the quietly devout to the openly hostile to British values (what’s left of them). You’ve got evangelical Christianity experiencing a weird resurgence amongst people who’ve decided progressive nihilism isn’t filling the God-shaped hole after all. You’ve got Sikhs and Hindus bringing their own certainties and occasionally their own conflicts from the subcontinent. Each group knows the truth. Each has God on their side. Each views compromise as corruption.

And the kicker? They all speak the same language of absolute moral certainty that the progressives do. Different vocabulary, same structure. The progressive who’ll ruin your career for wrongthink and the fundamentalist who’ll threaten your life for blasphemy are cousins under the skin. Both have found their ideological prisons UK and locked themselves in willingly. Both have decided their particular ideology explains everything and justifies anything.

When Every Hill’s Worth Dying On: British Decline Commentary Through the Anarch’s Eyes.

The British used to be famous for pragmatism, for muddling through, for the art of compromise and “mustn’t grumble.” Now? Every interaction’s a potential flashpoint. Every opinion’s a declaration of tribal loyalty. Every disagreement is evidence of moral monstrosity.

Want to discuss immigration policy? Better pick your side: either you believe open borders are a moral imperative and anyone who disagrees is racist, or you believe immigration’s civilisational suicide and anyone who disagrees is a traitor. No middle ground. No nuance. No possibility it’s complicated with legitimate concerns on multiple sides.

Want to talk about religion? You’re either an Islamophobe who thinks every mosque is a terrorist cell, or you’re a naive apologist who refuses to acknowledge any problems whatsoever. You either think Christianity built civilisation and we’re doomed without it, or you think it’s oppressive patriarchal nonsense deserving only mockery.

Want to discuss gender? Ha! Good luck with that. That’s a minefield that makes actual minefields look safe. You’re either affirming every claim without question or you’re committing genocide—apparently, there’s no space between “let’s castrate children” and “kill all trans people,” despite most normal humans existing somewhere in that vast middle territory.

The anarch observes all this and thinks: “You’re all mad, and you’re going to kill each other, and you’ll all be absolutely convinced you’re the righteous ones when you do it.”

UK Institutional Failure: The Streets Don’t Lie About Observing Social Collapse UK.

Here’s what the politicians and pundits won’t tell you, but this neurodivergent political observer sees clearly: the aggression on British streets isn’t an aberration. It’s not a temporary problem; better policing or community outreach, or whatever the current buzzword is, will solve it. It’s the logical result of the ideological soup we’ve been cooking for decades—pure UK institutional failure.

You import millions of people from cultures with radically different values, then tell them multiculturalism means they don’t have to adopt British values—hell, you’re not even sure British values exist or whether they’re any good if they do. You dismantle the church, mock traditional morality, and celebrate transgression as liberation. You teach multiple generations that their country is uniquely evil, their history is nothing but oppression, and their very existence is problematic. Then you’re surprised when nobody feels any loyalty to the social fabric? When do different groups start settling things the old-fashioned way?

The grooming gangs weren’t an accident. The knife crime isn’t random. The acid attacks, the riots, the no-go zones that officially don’t exist but everybody knows do—none of this is mysterious. It’s what happens when you destroy shared substance and replace it with competing certainties, each group deciding their truth matters and the other’s doesn’t. This is UK institutional failure laid bare.

And the darkly funny bit? The people who created this mess—the politicians, the academics, the media types—they’re mostly insulated from it. They live in nice neighbourhoods with good schools and reliable police response times. They can afford to be idealistic because they’re not the ones getting stabbed on the bus. They can preach about diversity being a strength from behind their security systems and private education.

The anarch notices this, too. Always notice who’s safe from the consequences of their own ideology. That tells you everything about British political hypocrisy.

Belief as Weapon: When Moral Certainty and Violence Replace Transcendence.

Religion used to provide something beyond politics—transcendence, meaning, a framework for virtue that didn’t depend on government policy. Now it’s just another faction in the street fight. The secularists weaponise “tolerance” to attack traditional believers. The believers weaponise “faith” to demand special treatment and silence criticism. Everyone’s got God or Progress or History on their side, and everyone’s ready to enforce their vision. More moral certainty and violence, different packaging.

The Church of England would be comical if it weren’t so pathetic. It’s become a progressive NGO that occasionally cosplays as Christian, more concerned with climate activism and diversity quotas than salvation or sin. It offers nothing you couldn’t get from the Guardian, except with worse music and more uncomfortable seating. Why would anyone commit their life to that? Why would anyone die for that?

Meanwhile, actual committed believers—the ones who take their religion seriously enough to let it shape their behaviour—are often the ones least interested in British integration. They’ve got their own complete system, thanks very much, and they’re not particularly interested in your secular liberal democracy. Fair enough, really. Why adopt the values of a civilisation that doesn’t believe in itself?

And the atheist progressives, having abandoned God, simply transferred all the psychological machinery of religion onto politics. Same dogmatism, same heresy trials, same excommunication rituals, same promise of salvation through correct belief. They’ve built a church without transcendence, all ritual and no substance, all shadow and no light. These are the ideological prisons the UK is operating at full capacity.

The Anarch Walks Through: An Anti-Establishment UK Perspective on Adaptation.

So what does the anarch do in this glorious mess? He walks through it. Eyes open, guard up, expectations low. He knows the current situation is unstable, which means it’s temporary. Britain in 2025 won’t look like Britain in 2035, and that probably won’t look like Britain in 2045. The question isn’t whether things will change—they will. The question is whether you’ll be captured by the change or able to adapt to it.

The liberal’s already having a breakdown. His entire worldview depends on history bending towards justice, progress being inevitable, and reason triumphing over superstition. But history isn’t bending anywhere particularly, progress is reversing in multiple domains, and reason’s left the building. The liberal watches British decline commentary become reality and it breaks him, because he invested everything in believing we were past all this tribalism and violence. We weren’t. We never are.

The true believer—whether religious or ideological—is potentially more dangerous. He’s sure he knows what Britain needs: more Islam or less Islam, more progressive values or more traditional values, more immigration or less immigration. He’s got the answer, and if you’d just listen to him (or better yet, obey him), everything would be fine. He can’t understand why you’re resisting the obvious truth. Your resistance must be a moral failure. And moral failure must be corrected, forcefully if necessary. More moral certainty and violence waiting to happen.

The anarch knows better. He knows there’s no single answer because there’s no single Britain anymore—there are multiple incompatible populations occupying the same geographical space, each with its own vision of what society should be, none willing to subordinate their vision to the others. This isn’t a problem with a solution. It’s a situation with multiple possible outcomes, most of them messy. This is observing ‘social collapse UK’ without illusions.

Dark Humour in Dark Times: British Political Hypocrisy as Tragicomedy.

There’s something grimly entertaining about watching a country commit suicide whilst insisting it’s actually performing a healing ritual. Britain is simultaneously denying that problems exist and declaring them catastrophic emergencies. Crime’s down according to official statistics, but nobody feels safe on the streets. Diversity’s our greatest strength, but we’re more segregated than ever. We’re more tolerant than we’ve ever been, except we’ll destroy you for saying the wrong thing.

The doublethink would make Orwell proud, if he weren’t already rolling in his grave fast enough to power the National Grid. This British political hypocrisy has become performance art.

And the violence—when it comes, and it will come more frequently—will be perpetrated by people absolutely convinced of their righteousness. The stabber will know he was disrespected and couldn’t let that stand. The activist will know she was fighting fascism. The fundamentalist will know he was defending his faith. The nationalist will know he was protecting his country. Everyone’s the hero in their own story, even whilst covered in someone else’s blood. That’s moral certainty and violence in action.

The anarch watches this theatre of moral certainty devolving into physical certainty—the certainty of fist, knife, and eventually worse—and he’s neither shocked nor particularly invested. This is what happens. This is what always happens when societies lose their substance and their shared story. The shadows war with shadows until something breaks.

Passing Through the Rooms: Ernst Jünger’s Anarch in Practice.

The anarch’s advantage is that he never moved into any of these ideological prisons UK permanently. He can visit progressive London, navigate Muslim Birmingham, slip through nationalist Hartlepool, each time adjusting his behaviour appropriately but never surrendering his inner sovereignty to any of them. He learns the local language, follows the local rules enough to avoid trouble, but keeps that essential part of himself untouched.

When progressives are running things, he nods along and avoids thought crimes. When traditionalists are running things, he nods along and avoids blasphemy. When nationalists are running things, he nods along and proves his usefulness. He’s not a collaborator—collaboration implies investment. He’s just passing through, taking what he needs, avoiding what threatens him, maintaining his essential freedom regardless of which particular madness is currently in charge.

This isn’t cowardice. The rebel who openly defies every regime he dislikes is brave, perhaps, but also stupid. He’ll be crushed, and his crushing will change nothing except to make him a martyr, which benefits his ideology but doesn’t help him much personally. The anarch’s smarter. He survives. He adapts. He waits.

Because regimes change. Britain’s current configuration—this unstable mix of incompatible populations, warring ideologies, and barely-suppressed violence—won’t last. It can’t last. Something will break, something will shift, something new will emerge. The anarch doesn’t know what, doesn’t particularly care. He’ll adapt to that, too. This anti-establishment UK perspective prioritises survival over ideology.

The Forest Remains: Where This Neurodivergent Political Observer Maintains Sovereignty.

Ernst Jünger wrote about “the forest”—that wild space beyond all settlements where the anarch can retreat when any particular civilisation becomes too confining or dangerous. In modern Britain, the forest’s mostly metaphorical. It’s the inner space of sovereignty, the part of yourself no ideology can capture, no regime can govern, no mob can intimidate.

You maintain the forest by refusing ultimate commitments to temporary arrangements. You maintain it by remembering that this too shall pass. You maintain it by watching the moral preachers work themselves into righteous fury and thinking “yes, yes, you’re all very important and correct, now excuse me whilst I focus on things that actually matter.”

What actually matters? That’s for each person to determine. For some, it’s philosophy—pursuing truth regardless of whether it’s politically convenient. For some, it’s art—creating beauty in an increasingly ugly world. For some it’s genuine faith—seeking transcendence rather than tribal victory. For some it’s simply survival with dignity intact, raising kids who aren’t captured by the madness, maintaining relationships that aren’t poisoned by politics.

The anarch doesn’t judge. He just notices that those focused on substance tend to be calmer, more resilient, less breakable than those invested entirely in shadows. When Britain implodes—partially or completely, gradually or suddenly—the people with interior forests will adapt. Those whose entire identity is bound up in current political arrangements will shatter. This is what British decline commentary misses when it focuses only on external politics.

Living in Interesting Times: Observing Social Collapse UK Without Illusions.

We live, as the curse goes, in interesting times. Britain’s declining, possibly collapsing, certainly transforming into something its grandparents wouldn’t recognise. The aggression on the streets will likely worsen before it improves—if it improves. The incompatible beliefs will continue clashing. The moral certainty will continue escalating. The distance between righteous preaching and righteous violence will continue shrinking. This neurodivergent political observer sees no reversal coming.

The anarch observes all this with dark humour because what else is there? Despair’s boring. Rage is exhausting. Joining one of the warring factions means imprisonment in their particular ideology. Better to watch the circus, appreciate the absurdity, stay light on your feet and be ready to move.

When someone demands you declare your allegiance, you smile and deflect. When someone insists you must have an opinion on the latest controversy, you shrug noncommittally. When someone tries to drag you into their moral crusade, you suddenly remember an important appointment elsewhere. You’re polite, you’re vague, you’re unmemorable. You pass through.

And when the violence comes to your street—because eventually it might—you’re neither shocked nor unprepared. You saw it coming. You made your plans. You kept your head down and your options open. You didn’t waste energy fighting the inevitable or pretending problems didn’t exist. You simply positioned yourself to survive whatever comes next.

That’s the anarch’s way through declining Britain: eyes open, guard up, commitments minimal, inner freedom maximal. Not heroic, not inspiring, not even particularly noble. But effective. And in interesting times, effectiveness beats nobility. Survival beats martyrdom. Freedom beats being right.

The ideological prisons UK are everywhere, and everyone’s trying to drag you into theirs. The anarch just keeps walking, from room to room, never settling in, never signing the lease, never mistaking any particular arrangement for the world itself. Britain’s just another room, currently on fire, and the anarch’s already planning his exit strategy whilst everyone else argues about who started the blaze.

Dark humour? It’s all we’ve got left. That and the forest—that interior space where you remain free regardless of which particular mob’s currently running the streets or which particular ideology’s currently demanding submission. Maintain that, and you’ll survive this. Maybe even with your sanity intact.

Though honestly, sanity might be overrated in times like these.

Tags: #ErnstJunger #Anarch #BritishDecline #UKPolitics #NeurodivergentPerspective #PoliticalCommentary #UKInstitutionalFailure #BritishPoliticalHypocrisy #AntiEstablishment #RobertJenrick #MoralCertainty #IdeologicalPrisons #ObservingSocialCollapse #PoliticalPhilosophy #BristolPolitics

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