Answers to the questions of Pavel Tulaev

2014-02-07T09:14:00+01:00

Answers to the questions of Pavel Tulaev

About my modest biography, my experiences in the French New Right Circus, etc.

Dear Robert Steuckers, you are among the few West European journalists or publicists who profoundly understand the history and geopolitics of Russia. We know each other now since more than fifteen years and that’s why I find this interview is important. First of all, would like to introduce yourself, to tell us about your profession, your specialisation, your titles, etc. ?

RS: Well, there is nothing special about me. I was born in Uccle/Ukkel in January 1956 in a quite poor family. My father was the son of a peasant having a family of seven children and came to Brussels to find a job as a servant in 1933. He didn’t want to go to school to become a schoolmaster, didn’t want to work on the farm feeding the pigs and couldn’t find a long-lasting job in his province. My mother, who died recently in December 2011 at the age of 97, was the daughter of a beer brewer and seller, who, at the age of 14, left his village, where his own father had also seven children and only one cow he had to drive along ways and paths in his village in order to let her graze as he had no meadow of his own.

In Brussels my grand-father became the helper of a baker and then could be hired by the army to replace a rich son of a bourgeois family, who had no lust to do his military service (at that time conscription was not yet compulsory in Belgium). He served for three years in the 2^nd and 4^th Lancers, an elite light cavalry regiment, in which he got the noble attitude in his daily gestures he kept till his last breath, almost 87 years old. With the money he got from the rich family to do military service instead of the son of the house, he could buy and take over the small business of a retired or passed away brewer and marry my grandmother in 1908, the very year one of his sisters migrated to the United States, to Indiana, to run a farm with her husband: they too had seven children. My mother’s parents started a trade in beers and lemonades, which lasted 80 years, being taken over by my uncles in 1953. My grand-parents’ youngest son retired in 1988. My grandfather was called up in August 1914 and participated in the First World War as a sergeant in the transport units behind the Yser Front in Flanders. He swallowed mustard gas (Yperite), suffered ten years long from the effects of this nasty chemical but could recover after a terrible pneumonia, due to lung complications, in 1928. Even if he could earn a good life by selling beers to pubs and private customers, he was the model of an ascetic, eating almost no meat, only oats with milk and eggs, together with rhubarb and prunes that he cultivated in his own garden. He wanted to remain thin to mount horses in case if… but he had no horse anymore. He bought motorcars and lorries that he was never able to drive himself: this was the task of his sons. He used to say: “Modern times are preposterous: they all need a motor under their bottom even for a distance less than 500 yards”. My grandmother was even more ascetic and left me one of her often quoted saying: “Clock hours (i. e. measured time) are for fools, the wise know their time” (‘t Uur is voor de zotten, de wijzen weten hun tijd”). In this sense, she was exactly in tune with the celebrated German writer Ernst Jünger, when he theorized his ideas about time.

My father came to work as a servant to the House of Count Willy (Guillaume) de Hemricourt de Grunne in 1938. In the summer of this year he made his first trip outside Belgium to a village in Franche-Comté, near the Swiss border, where Count de Grunne had inherited a wonderful mansion house from an aunt who had inherited it from his own grandfather, the French Catholic thinker and politician Count Charles de Montalembert. I still spend some days in this part of Europe twice or three times a year. In August 1939, just a few days after the Molotov-Ribbentrop agreement, my father was called up in the Belgian army, was sent to barracks near the German border during the phoney war, then to the Beverloo military camp, where he underwent the German air attack by Stuka bombers in the early morning of May 10^th, 1940. After his duty, as no Flemish conscript soldiers were taken prisoner of war and sent to Germany, my father went back to the House of Count de Grunne, where he worked till his retirement in 1978. Some months later Willy de Grunne died, just three days before his 90^th birthday.

My youth was spent in the marvellous surrounding Willy de Grunne created in the large garden behind his house in Brussels, which was a marvel of architecture designed by the genial Belgian architect Brunfaut in the early Twenties. Willy de Grunne wanted to have different flowers in his garden in spring, summer and late summer, so that I always could play among the most beautiful selection of plants that a team of very able professional gardeners kept with love and care. The mansion in Franche-Comté is still a marvel today and is now run by his grandson, whose father was Russian and son of a White Guard officer and later one of the best teachers of your language in Belgium. The surroundings created by Willy de Grunne made of me a youth completely immune to the seductions of modern world, but simultaneously I was perhaps also affected by a serious handicap: I could never understand the way of working in factories or offices, with the artificial rhythms and hierarchies they imply.

The world of my youth was a world with only personal, friendly relationships never determined by contracts, only by pure genuine human and manly confidence, based on the given word you never withdraw. Books were important in this world, as Willy de Grunne had, among other tasks as a diplomat, to read books for Queen Elizabeth Wittelsbach, a Bavarian Duchess, who became Queen of the Belgians in 1909. Willy de Grunne was Grand Master of her House in the Thirties. Queen Elizabeth was, just as her whole Bavarian family in Munich, an excellent sponsor of arts, music and museums. We owe her the Egyptology Museum in Brussels and among many other things the world famous “Concours Reine Elizabeth”, promoting young talented musicians from all over the world. Many young Russian musicians participated in this prestigious competition. Besides, Queen Elizabeth has been (and still is) criticized for being of German origin and for having refused to boycott the USSR and China during the Cold war. She ended her life in the Fifties and the early Sixties by acquiring the then sulphurous reputation of a “Bolshevik Queen”. She died in 1965.

Now, I became a so-called “intellectual” thanks to my father’s sister Julienne, who had a diploma of schoolmistress, had married Hendrik Lambrechts, a Flemish schoolmaster in ‘s Gravensvoeren (Fouron-le-Comte), and had a son, Raoul, who after his father’s death in 1949, became a political scientist having studied at the prestigious University of Louvain, after brilliant secondary school studies (Latin and Greek) achieved at the Flemish “Heilig Hart College” (“Sacred Heart College”) in Ganshoren near Brussels. My aunt was very proud of her son. But unfortunately Raoul died in 1961 from a heart disease that would now be easily cured. I was only five years old when I was brought to the University Hospital in Louvain to see him dying after a previous operation that provoked a blood clot that stroke his brain. The vivid and awful memory of this dying unconscious young man, his desperate eyes and the frightful calls of his mother remain in my mind till now. After Raoul’s death my father was told and even ordered by his sister to make all the efforts needed to let me study at a University, because, she said, “our old Province Limburg should have an elite born out of peasant families”. I was given the task, even the burden, to replace Raoul in the family: a man had been killed, another had to take his place. Aunt Julienne died in 1991. I saw her some days before her passing away. She was as happy as happy can be. A bright smile illuminated her face, although she was suffering a lot due to the dog days: finally, not only me, the crazy boy full of silly fantasies, had something like a diploma, but also the daughter of her daughter, who just got her diploma of political scientist at the State’s University of Ghent. One of my cousins found the right words when she held a very well balanced speech in the church on her burial day: “A grand and simple lady”.

These family circumstances explain why I was first sent to a good primary school in the part of the City where I’ve always lived. The teachers were severe and taught us parsing very well, which has been of the uttermost importance for my further studies in Latin in the secondary school and in German, English and Dutch for my studies at University or at the Translators’ and Interpreters’ School. After the usual six years of primary school, I was sent to a secondary school not far from home, where my father, after a good briefing of Aunt Julienne and of Willy de Grunne, let me be registered in the Latin classes. I couldn’t understand why I had to study Latin when we both went to this impressive old school to meet a friar responsible to register the new pupils. He told me when I asked him why Latin was for that a secondary school is like a train with several cars, that my seat had been booked in the Latin car and if after a year or a couple of years I couldn’t feel well in this kind of luxury or first class car, they would book a seat for me in another one, perhaps less prestigious but even more efficient and pragmatic. But I immediately liked to study Latin, especially words and etymologies, and never failed any examination in this subject. My crux during the years of my secondary school had been maths not because I had a prejudice against maths —on the contrary— but because in September 1967, some crazy and criminal minds had decided to introduce “modern math” (singular!) without any pedagogical preparation: modern math is indeed too abstract to understand for children younger than 12 or 13 years and I was only 11 when I started secondary school. I was saved at the end of the first year because fortunately some clever minds had rung the alarm bell and imposed algebra in the traditional way.

During the fifth year, the so-called Latin “poetry class”, I became firmly decided to learn modern languages, more precisely German and English at University. After two years I changed for the Translators and Interpreters School, which was not far from my home. After four years I got the diploma of English and German translator. To obtain it I had to translate and comment a book of Ernst Topitsch and Kurt Salamun criticizing “ideologies” as constructed systems that prevent real pragmatic thoughts to develop or that serve as crushing instruments to perpetuate the domination of false elites (like the pigs in Orwell’s Animal Farm) becoming gradually out of touch.

So I became successively a clerk by Rank Xerox (to answer calls in several languages), the dumbfound redaction secretary of Benoist’s magazine “Nouvelle école” (having had the privilege to analyse on the very field the preposterousness of the all business lead by this silly old wet blanket of Benoist), a soldier doing his military service in the 7^th Company Logistics for ten short months in Saive (near Liège), in Marche-en-Famenne, in the marvellous Burg Vogelsang and the village of Bürvenich in Germany along the border, a freelance translator and interpreter for twenty years (with a lot of different customers active in all possible social fields), a sworn translator for the Ministry of Justice, a private teacher, one among the numerous freelance assistants of Prof. Jean-François Mattei, who published in 1992 the “Encyclopédie des Oeuvres philosophiques” for the “Presses Universitaires de France”, and, as a wonderful and enthralling hobby, the metapolitical fighter you’ve known since now more than fifteen years. As a metapolitcal fighter, I was first a young and second-rank animator of the Brussels’ GRECE-group around Georges Hupin, an occasional pen pusher for his small bulletin “Renaissance Européenne” (still published nowadays as the organ of Vial’s “Terre & Peuple” movement in the French-speaking part of Belgium), then the founder of “Orientations”, the redaction secretary of “Nouvelle école”, one of the founders of the Brussels’ EROE–group, the founder of “Vouloir” together with Jean E. van der Taelen, a speaker having wandered throughout Europe to address meeting or participate to seminars of all kinds, a member of Faye’s “Etudes & recherches”-club within the “nouvelle droite”, then the organiser together with others of the Munkzwalm-seminars in Flanders, one among the founders of “Synergies Européennes” (together with Gilbert Sincyr and Jean de Bussac) and organisers of all the activities lead by this European group, including the publication of “Nouvelles de Synergies Européennes” and “Au fil de l’épée”.

You have a universal outlook that can be called encyclopaedic. How did you get your education? Whom can you consider your teachers? Who are the authors and which are the books that have influenced you most?

If once in your life you decide to become a metapolitical fighter you have of course as a duty to read ceaselessly and to acquire willy-nilly this “encyclopaedic outlook” you talk about. Moreover if the metapolitical purpose you follow is to re-establish European culture in all its richness the piles of books awaiting you reach permanently the ceiling. I got my education at school and nowhere else. It would be dishonest and conceited to invent a story trying to demonstrate somehow the contrary. Schoolbooks for the subject “History” were and are still good in Belgium. You have simply to assimilate the contents and to complete them with further readings. Of course, I owe a lot to our Latin teacher Simon Hauwaert and our philosophy teacher Lucien Verbruggen, not only for their lessons but also for the long tours they organized for us in Greece and Turkey, in order to discover Ancient Greek civilisation. When I was sixteen and a half, I was brought by the circumstances of these long school trips in the streets of Athens or Istanbul and visited Ankara’s Hittite Museum just one day after having had a short tour around Cappadocia’s cave dwellings and Byzantine churches. This was an even so good training in fact than school curriculum in itself. Another good thing was that we had to prepare every year for Hauwaert and his successor Salmon a paper on a classical Latin topic together with a grammatical analysis of an original text (I had with my late friend Leyssens, a future gynaecologist, who died in a mountain accident at 42 leaving three orphan sons, to study successively Lucretius’ De rerum naturae, a part of Plinius’ Natural History and Plautus’ theatre). The last year Rodolphe Brouwers, our French and History teacher, compelled us to write a paper on history: I had to write a survey about the COMECON countries (Poland, Czechoslovakia, Bulgaria, Rumania, Hungary). Brouwers had also the good idea to let us parse in all details Bossuet’s speeches in order to let us discover the good balance of a possible barrister’s plea or to be able later to coin speeches along the same stylistic guidelines in order to let them be better understandable only by giving them a well-balanced rhythm à la Bossuet. It has been very useful each time the GRECE-people asked me to address their annual meeting held in Paris or Versailles. During a first year at University, I followed the lectures of René Jongen in German grammar and had a course of German literature by the Flemish writer Paul Lebeau. Later I had English grammar by Jacques Van Roey, as well as good introductory lectures in history, among which the ones of Léopold Génicot on the West European Middle Ages were the most memorable. At the interpreters’ school, two years later, we had excellent practical trainings in modern languages.

What concerns the specific New Right literature I was deeply influenced by Pierre Chassard’s introduction to Nietzsche’s philosophy (“Nietzsche, finalisme et h

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