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Fascicle I: Disturbance, by Curtis Yarvin: Book Review

  • Writer: Julia Schiwal
    Julia Schiwal
  • 1 day ago
  • 12 min read

Updated: 6 hours ago


Passage Press has published Curtis Yarvin’s first installment of his book Grey Mirror, Fascicle I: Disturbance. Curtis Yarvin is an American philosopher who writes about political theory, regime change, and monarchism, and identifies himself as an adherent of the Italian school of political philosophy, known as Machiavellianism. Machiavellianism is a school of political science founded on two core assumptions: that people naturally desire power and that oligarchy is inevitable. Given these realities, Machiavellians believe their task is to find the best arrangement of power. Machiavellians generally consider “the best” a system of power that allows competent elites to govern society while preserving liberty. Yarvin, for years, has been a blogger, once affiliated with the Dark Enlightenment and emerging from Silicon Valley. In Disturbance, his first complete book, he expands in a new direction, applying a Machiavellian lens to 21st-century American politics and regime change.


Summarizing Disturbance

Disturbance is the first fascicle, or installment, of a planned larger work of Yarvin’s, Grey Mirror, borrowing the name from his blog. The book is short at 223 pages. Disturbance is structured in small sections of approximately 750-4,000 words. There are about 80 of these small sections. There are three more fascicles planned in succession to Disturbance, covering other dimensions of his political philosophy. These include Anchor, covering politics and history, Stories, which narrates regime transition, and Process, a regime-change handbook. Disturbance aims to be the first step in the guide for regime change, disturbing the reader’s philosophical and historical sense of where we are. For Yarvin, a “regime” is any system in power. We have a regime now, which Yarvin has called the “Cathedral,” referring to a system composed of the state, media, and universities, which influence each other and function as an oligarchy. To Yarvin, the most important center of power is the university, which serves as the intellectual core of the system, generating policy ideas and training the media. He views these forces as a vast bureaucracy that evolved within American democracy over a long period, at least since the late 19th century, if not earlier.


Disturbance begins with Yarvin framing his book as answering the question of “effective altruism,” which is, “What is the ‘optimal’ way to improve society?” He concludes that the optimal way to organize society is through the centralization of power, since centralized power is necessary to do anything at all. He then moves to describing what he sees as wrong in America today. His prime example is the city of Cleveland. He argues that Cleveland is worse today than it was in 1960 and asks, “What caused the city’s streets to rot, what allowed open-air drug use, what led to fewer births, what caused de-industrialization, and what has led to entrenched poverty? Yarvin argues that what has happened in Cleveland is what has occurred across the West for the past 500 years or so: leftists won, that is to say, aristocrats—oligarchs—won, stripping power from monarchs and then democracy, and began to rule incompetently, focusing on consolidating their power instead of optimizing society. Yarvin writes that what Dr. King said, “The arc of history bends towards justice,” but meant, “The arc of history bends towards leftism.” For Yarvin, we do not have a competent government because oligarchs, or autocrats, have built a Cathedral that teaches people a religion (leftism) that maintains their power, and have, for 500 years, beaten down the conservative, counter-revolutionary opposition.


Yarvin then argues that we must not fight paper with rock (oligarchy has already conquered democracy), but instead beat paper with scissors (monarchy), and establish a new form of government where one person possesses absolute power, initially elected by the people via democratic consent to govern undemocratically. He references the company Apple as a model of an efficient and effective monarchy. He notes most institutions, including Harvard, function similarly to a monarchy. So, he proposes we adopt a monarchy through regime change to organize society optimally. He notes that in this new system, bad monarchs would be removed through a board of directors. He then argues that to most people, the idea of a monarchy sounds a lot like 20th-century dictatorships, especially Hitler’s Nazi Germany.


To advance his argument, he aims to disturb his reader’s understanding of 20th-century history. The regime we now live under uses a “Marvel movie” vision of the 20th century as its founding myth, where good America defeats the evil, world-conquering Axis. This narrative teaches people to accept the Cathedral’s rule. In Yarvin’s telling, Britain—seeking a post-national empire of global subjects—beat down successive rebellions in Europe and Japan. American progressives, who were already allied with Britain and the USSR even before World War II, joined in this effort, reaping the benefits of the oligarchic victory over national rebellions and securing a place in the post-war global order. They have since ruled. Yarvin then argues that our government is not the American government, but FDR’s, born in this period of oligarchic consolidation. Yarvin notes that FDR was much more powerful than any president today, implying that something has since assumed all that power.


Yarvin does not argue against the Holocaust or for Hitler; he argues that World War II was not fought to prevent the Holocaust (nor did it), but to put down the national rebellions of Nazi Germany, Japan, and Italy, who were resisting the liberal imperial world order, as they sought competing national spheres of influence. Yarvin does not defend Hitler. He is radical in that he does not defend Roosevelt. For Yarvin, the particular violence of the 20th century stems from the period’s chaos, caused by the rise of democracy and populism, which led to an insufficient concentration of power to ensure stability. For Yarvin, the 20th-century dictatorships are an argument for monarchy, not against it. To speak of Hitler’s tyranny alongside Frederick the Great is absurd. For Yarvin, Hitler is far more like Roosevelt than he is any historical monarch.


From this, Yarvin wants us to learn that our understanding of tyranny is fundamentally flawed. Yarvin believes that a modern monarchy would be more like the monarchies of old Europe than 20th-century tyrannies, and that our regime change would be peaceful because our society is “water-soaked.” For Yarvin, power is like grasping a nettle: a gentle touch will result in a sting, but a firm grasp will prevent it. For him, the only way to fix Cleveland is to elect a monarch to restore the city. Anything less would fail: power would be stolen by the Cathedral. Yarvin insists that Cleveland needs a regime change; Cleveland needs a monarch, and your love of our fake democracy, founded on the myth of WWII, stands in the way.


Disturbance aims to convince you that regime change is both possible and necessary, and the philosophical and historical criticisms you have of monarchy are fundamentally flawed. For Yarvin, the box of history you’ve been living in is a trap. He has written a book about how to escape. You may have to gnaw off your leg: your discomfort with the idea of being ruled.


Critiques for Readers and Writer

While Disturbance has many strengths, upon reading, I encountered a few issues with rhetoric, style, and authority that some readers may find grating or off-putting. Disturbance is Yarvin’s first actual book, and we should not expect perfection from a first-time author. The critiques I have do not mean this is a bad book; only that it is an author’s first book.


Yarvin asks us to transcend history. His goal is to tear us away from the “box” we live in and see outside our “box,” to learn to see the 500-year conquest of the leftist oligarchic empire. Yet, his use of the phrases “effective altruism” and “optimization” animate against this. This language is unique to Silicon Valley. When Yarvin was blogging for Silicon Valley, this was acceptable. Now that he is publishing for a general audience, this rhetoric feels provincial and dated. This language does not complement his vernacular style, which is full of trailing ellipses, rhetorical questions, and informalities. Silicon Valley jargon is elitist, which the book is asking us not to be. Or, to be, in a much more dangerous way.


The sections of Disturbance that reframe effective altruism seem closer to an open letter to Vox than a serious book about regime change. His reference to Apple as a polemical device is unconvincing. Apple is no longer known for its efficiency, but for releasing identical products. Microsoft, a monarchy, replaced Americans with Indians, cutting a generation of American men and women out of high-paying jobs. On Yarvin’s terms, Harvard, a monarchy, has optimized the production of the Cathedral. In classical philosophy, the preferred term was not “optimization,” but “the search for the good life.” Many can think of optimal ways to castrate children, but few can think of this as the good life. At least, not for long. In place of the Marvel movie, Yarvin offers us The Social Network, but writes about Charles II: The Power & the Passion. As a reader, I take issue with an author proclaiming the sovereign absolute and then telling me about a board of directors that can remove him, efficient email chains, and how great Apple is. Whenever I read “Apple” alongside “Aristotle’s six forms of government,” I am lost as a reader. I doubt this rhetoric will work on a more general audience, who have a genuine fear of large technology corporations. This rhetoric feels banal and dated, rather than dangerous and disturbing.


Stylistically, Yarvin’s paragraphs are rarely longer than three sentences. His sections are short. He sometimes revisits ground he has already covered, introducing redundancies, saying the same thing twice, repeating himself, only to come back again with a revisitation of his prior point, only across chapters, rather than like in this sentence. Alongside being a structural issue, this harms the book’s narrative momentum and internal consistency. His introduction to Aristotle, placed near the end of the book, would be better placed nearer to the beginning. He uses Aristotle’s terms throughout the book, so I do not understand the choice to place the introduction near the end, except as an attempt to foreshadow Fascicle II: Anchor. Moving this section would allow him to maintain narrative momentum by avoiding the detour needed to introduce new terms and ideas. Several sections within pages 100-144 feel disconnected from the rest of the work and are not revisited.


Another stylistic issue, on Page 141, Yarvin refers to Kemal Atatürk and adds a short parenthetical on how he didn’t do the Armenian genocide. Yarvin excuses his reference. This tendency comes from posting on X, where someone will immediately accuse you of denying genocide for complimenting Atatürk, so you write your insight out alongside an apology. I’m not sure if this belongs in a book. Many of Yarvin’s short paragraphs read like tweets and lack narrative cohesion. The fascicle format is no excuse, as cohesive narratives like A Christmas Carol were published in parts. Consider James Burnham’s The Machiavellians: Defenders of Freedom, a book Yarvin cites as a key influence. When reading Burnham’s The Machiavellians, there is a consistent beat to his historical reference, a legato, rather than Yarvin’s staccato. Both are appropriate and beautiful, but books are better legato. Yarvin’s references are more stochastic than rhythmic (a good example of rhythmic writing is in The Machiavellians, Part III, Section 4, which weighs and measures England versus the Catholic Church in turn-after-balanced turn). In addition to rhythm, Yarvin’s writing would benefit from more authorial confidence: no author should begin their four-part treatise on regime change with a whimper, “I cannot expect to convince you of anything,” as Disturbance does. So why write the book? Excusing Atatürk, using Apple as a polemical device for absolute monarchy, and some of his occasional self-effacing language, reveals a lack of authorial confidence.


Expanding on authority, in my review of Towards a Conservative Left: Selected Writings of Jean-Claude Michéa, I noted that Michéa’s life as a rural farmer and teacher gave me trust in him as an author. Michéa lives the life he asks us to live. Throughout Disturbance, Yarvin insists that we live in truth. When Yarvin met Renaud Camus, he asked him about Candace Owens’ lie that Madame Macron is male. Camus responded, while laughing, “We are dealing with the most important thing in the history of the Continent. What does it matter if Mrs. Macron is a man or woman?” How am I to trust that Yarvin, as a political philosopher, can guide me to the truth, to veritas, when he has fallen to such a silly suspicion? Suspicion is good. Conspiracies are real. Philosophers must be models. The first clay they touch is their own. Textually, this manifests in Yarvin’s tendency to misunderstand or ignore important issues. As an example, he has never worked in an agency, yet insists, as he does on page 77, that executive orders might as well be tweets. They do not matter. Yet, in reality, they do: a tremendous amount. Everyone makes mistakes and believes silly things, which I can forgive, but I cannot forgive a man with an ambiguous relationship to veritas telling me to live in veritas.


In Disturbance, Yarvin insists that the regime change be done perfectly. On page 98, he writes, “After any truly competent regime transition, everyone’s life will get better, actually. This even includes high-ranking members of the old regime...” Yarvin is not responsible for DOGE. But as a taste of regime change—a screwdriver compared to full-on moonshine—DOGE was bad. The problem is the regime changers. They are not doing this for the reason Yarvin is. I was 1 of 300 purged by DOGE at my prior employer. I am the only one who has become more, not less, open to MAGA (insofar as it represents a new regime). That’s not what happened to everyone else. Now, they hate MAGA even more.


I understand why. One person, with whom I worked for five years, had just had a baby. Nate Cavanaugh sent her an email, informing her that after working for her employer for 10 years, she would receive one month’s severance and her benefits would terminate the next day. A 20-year-old who has not lived as an adult for ten years, with no children, cannot fathom what this looks or feels like. And a 20-year-old with no children may be quite ready for a regime change. That makes me doubt Yarvin’s assurance that we are in an age without much gasoline. Exposure to gasoline can burn your nostrils. I’m not sure if I trust his sense of smell.


Worth Buying If...

This brings me to my final criticism, which is also a compliment. The Yarvin in Disturbance is not what you’d expect.


Yarvin in Disturbance reads to me as less animated by some authoritarian instinct than by an endearing love of people, a gregarious anger on their behalf. I understand why one might be angry. Clear evidence of his democratic instincts lies in his use of vernacular English, Orwell’s favorite weapon against totalitarianism, as elitist jargon is essential for the practice of doublethink. Whereas other Machiavellians, like Burnham or Sorel, never moderate themselves and read cold and clear, Yarvin reads familiar and searching. In Disturbance, you will not find a cold-hearted bastard. You will find someone with contradictory tendencies: an advocate of monarchy who loves democracy; a friendly yet arrogant voice that retreats from itself; an anti-liberal who refuses conservative aesthetics, retaining a geeky streak. You will find writing that is stochastic and nervous in one passage, and then writing that lingers with you long after the book is down in the next. This is a stylistic hallmark of posters: they are cringe and based in discordant turn. Such was Dostoyevsky’s writing in Notes From Underground: the first struggle tweet, as it was the first modern novel.


Despite my critiques, the reading comes easy. I enjoyed Disturbance. I think reading Yarvin, as a book author, will surprise people, disturbing their sense of history and their understanding of what motivates Yarvin. Disturbance is worth buying if you are curious why an obscure blogger has become one of the most beloved voices of the dissident right. Yarvin’s revisionist history of World War II and the 20th century is well-written and compelling. Anyone interested in recent debates about Churchill or World War II would find this book immensely enjoyable. Where Yarvin sticks to breaking the box, he succeeds. You may leave with splinters.


Supposing you are not interested in reading a paperback blog that captures an inconsistent philosopher in medium transition, leaving you with more questions than answers (which is what Yarvin intends and succeeds in doing), I’d suggest waiting for Fascicle II: Anchor before purchasing and reading, as that book will answer many questions raised by Disturbance. If you have not enjoyed any of Yarvin’s blogging previously and do not expect him to succeed in a new medium, then you may ignore this book. A note of warning: consider that he was ignored for more than a decade, yet ended up being one of the most important thinkers of the contemporary right.


Disturbance is Yarvin’s first book, so any reader of his should be prepared to embark on the journey with him from blogging to writing books. Despite my criticisms, I believe the issue lies less with the writer or the editors than with the medium transition. His previous mediums animated against good writing, in both substance and style. They inculcated stochastic thinking and rewarded jargon. Escaping blogging and X means he can only improve as an author. I mean, he’s an author now, right? ...who goes back to sitcoms once they do film? ... and who brings to film the same acting they brought to sitcoms?


I imagine a main selling point of this book to be that, for long-time fans, the writing Yarvin offers in Grey Mirror the book will be longer and better than the writing on Grey Mirror the blog. After all, why buy the book if the blog has the same or similar content? Why sit down and read a book when you could skim a blog and have a Zyn? If the writing is not substantially better and the content is not substantially different, there is no reason to buy the book. Transitioning to an authorial style, rather than publishing blogs and posts in book form, is crucial for adding value to the purchase, enhancing the reading experience, and effectively communicating ideas. This is also crucial for Yarvn’s own growth. Rembrandt drew very well. His paintings are much more beautiful and enduring. I hope to be able to say something similar about Yarvin someday.


In the 21st century, we are poisoned by naivete. The facts of power, of sword and sceptre, which have been known to humanity for 10,000 years of slaughter, such that the right of conquest is recognized in English common law, have been forgotten to us. The Machiavellian tradition is a powerful antidote. Disturbance aims to reset you to the fundamental truths of 10,000 years of political science: that people desire power as they desire sex, that oligarchy is inevitable, and that an effective arrangement of power is altruistic. Yarvin may not compel you to kiss the ring, but you will learn why Captain America didn’t stop the Holocaust. The answer may disturb you.


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