Meeting With An Interesting Man

David Myatt

David Myatt

Meeting With An Interesting Man
David Myatt and the Importance of Vindex

I first met David Myatt one January day in early 1998 when around fifty members of Combat 18, supportive of Myatt’s National-Socialist Movement, gathered in north London to protest against a march by IRA supporters.

I’d been familiar with his political writings for a while – but there he was, on the streets of London, surrounded by Police officers and standing in front of that group of mostly young tough-looking men dressed in the causal style then favoured by Combat 18 supporters. He seemed out of place, what with his bushy ginger beard, his flat cap, his Barbour jacket, tweed trousers, country boots and carrying an umbrella. He looked a bit like a farmer, visiting London for the day, who’d taken a couple of wrong turnings, and ended up far from the countryside he’d expected to find.

Later, in some nearby pub, we got to talking – and our conversation soon turned to topics other than politics. It was interesting, listening to him talk, in those days before he moved into Muslim circles, closed to the likes of us. Interesting because he opened for me many a new world – talking as he did about the ancient myths and legends of Shropshire, where I was then living; telling stories and tales of rural English life, and, last but certainly not least, enthusing about Vindex and the Galactic Imperium.

Softly spoken, with a well-educated accent, and dressed in his country clothes, Myatt conjured up another way of life, another world – far beyond that busy inner-city Pub, far beyond the streets of London, and far beyond the modern world itself. A throw-back, perhaps, to olden, more rural, times – or, as I then thought, a harbinger of things yet to be. An embodiment of the type of person, the type of life, that his Reichsfolk organization wanted to nurture, an organization he had founded the year before he’d founded the NSM. Intelligent, well-mannered, well-educated, cultured, people – a new sort of aristocracy, a new rural gentry – but who were not afraid to “get their hands dirty”, who were used to hard work, and who were tough enough, in body and spirit, to defend themselves and their loved ones and who belonged in the countryside.

What was also refreshing, for me, was that he was his own man – he didn’t seem to care about what others said or wrote about him; didn’t seem to care about what they thought about the way he dressed. He didn’t want to or have to please people, and certainly didn’t want to “fit in” or ape the way others behaved, talked, or dressed. He was just being himself. He certainly had an easy-going charm, and was nothing like the rabid fanatic his political enemies portrayed him to be.

It’s fair to say that he then inspired me, on the personal level, as his writings had done on the political level, and – over the next couple of years – I was to read much of his other, non-political, material, from his poetry, to his Greek translations, to his writings about what he then, in 1998, called Folk Culture. But it was to be his myth – or as he described it, the mythos – of Vindex and the future Galactic Imperium that inspired me the most, and still does.

This mythos is, in my view, one of his best achievements – a melding of occult, mythic, and pagan, elements with an inspiring vision of the future. It is the vision of us changing ourselves – via acts of will, and consciously – and being the ancestors for a new breed, a new type, of human beings who, motivated by the wider perspective of life and the cosmos, have an insatiable urge to explore beyond Earth. This raises us our from the mire of earth-bound materialism, and frees us from that debilitating, egalitarian, culture-destroying, enervating, tyrannical magian ethos that would have us as slaves to what has been called the un-numinous abstractions of religion, the state, and modern nations. This vision gives us hope – for it makes us aware of who and what we might be; who we have the capacity, the ability, to be, Promethean cosmic pioneers of many and diverse cultures. Why settle for less? Why be tax-paying slaves of the new tyranny? Why let our ancestral cultures, our natural diversity, be subsumed by Homo Hubris, that slave of the magian?

Instead, we should liberate ourselves, and be the founders of new, of diverse, and of extra-terrestrial, cultures; and cultures which live, which are – to use one of Myatt’s favourite words – numinous, and many of which are founded on the traditions, the ways, of our own ancestors, thus keeping alive something vital, something immensely important and something which manifests the reality, the very diversity, of us, of Nature, of the very cosmos itself. Something pagan.

It was interesting to me that Myatt, during our conversation, quoted Langland’s Piers Ploughman in jocular reference to how ‘wicked’ – how dangerous – contemporary National Socialists were, at least to the Old Order. For the English word wicked is derived from the old, medieval, English word wycke (variously spelt waeke; wicke) which itself derived from wicca, the craft of the witch and the warlock, who were not the sorcerers or the bad folk of Nazarene propaganda but rather the custodians of the ancient, pagan, indigenous, oral traditions of the British Isles. For Myatt seemed then to embody an older way – an ancient, pagan, tradition – as his writings about National Socialism captured that older pagan world of Blood and Soil. The way of heroes, chivalry, rural communities, ancestral traditions, respect for Nature, a connection to the land, and a dislike of cowardice. The type of traditional, more pagan, living that Vindex would seek to establish again.

Richard Stirling
(2001 ev)

Editorial note. This article was first published in #27 (113yf) of Das Reich, the internal bulletin of Reichsfolk. Links to a few of Myatt’s writings about Vindex, the Galactic Imperium, and Homo Hubris, can be found here:

Towards Destiny

Theoretician of National Socialism

Mythos of Vindex, Part 1

Mythos of Vindex Part 2

Mythos of Vindex, Appendix 1

Homo Hubris