The German Conservative Revolution

In the tumultuous years between the end of World War I and the rise of the Third Reich, Germany was plunged into a maelstrom of political instability, economic collapse, and social disintegration. These crises, stemming from the humiliation of its “defeat” in the Great War and the punitive conditions of the Treaty of Versailles, shattered the nation’s confidence and sowed the seeds of widespread discontent. Amid this upheaval, a movement emerged that sought to channel the frustrations of a fractured Germany into a new, cohesive vision for its future. The term "Conservative Revolution," which came to define a movement of thinkers such as Oswald Spengler, Ernst Jünger, Arthur Moeller van den Bruck, Carl Schmitt, Edgar Julius Jung, Ernst Niekisch, and many others, was solidified in 1949 with the release of Armin Mohler's influential book The Conservative Revolution in Germany 1918-1932 (Konservative Revolution in Deutschland). Through Mohler's work, terms like “conservative revolution” and “national revolutionaries” (Konservative Revolution und Nationale Revolutionäre) gained academic and mainstream traction. The movement sought to carve out a middle ground, offering an alternative to the extremes of Bolshevism and liberal democracy, advocating for a synthesis of tradition and innovation to restore Germany's vitality. Often broadly referred to as the Conservative Revolutionary Movement, its adherents were typically called “Revolutionary Conservatives,” though some, notably, adopted terms like “Neoconservatives” to describe their ideas. For clarity, it is important to distinguish the latter term, “Neoconservatives,” from its contemporary application.

The term “Conservative Revolution,” however, was first brought into prominence in 1927 by Hugo von Hofmannsthal, a Catholic cultural conservative and monarchist whose intellectual legacy greatly influenced the movement’s initial metapolitical ideals. In a landmark speech, Hofmannsthal declared, “The process of which I am speaking is nothing less than a conservative revolution on such a scale as the history of Europe has never known. Its object is form, a new German reality, in which the whole nation will share.” These words encapsulated the ethos of the nascent movement, which aspired to forge a new cultural and political order, transcending the divisions of the Weimar Republic and healing the wounds of Germany’s shattered identity. It sought not only to stabilize a nation in chaos but to elevate Germany, reborn, to a place of prominence on the world stage, where its cultural, spiritual, and political heritage could be renewed and asserted with strength.

Though the term “Conservative Revolution” might evoke the image of a cohesive ideological movement, the reality was far more complex. The thinkers and leaders who came to define this intellectual current were a disparate collection of men, united more by their dissatisfaction with Germany’s postwar condition than by a shared vision of its future. Divergences in philosophical outlook and political priorities often led to disagreements, yet this plurality of perspectives also reflected the movement’s vitality. As Geoffrey Herf describes, the Conservative Revolutionaries were proponents of “reactionary modernism,” combining admiration for modern technology with a rejection of the Enlightenment’s values and the liberal democratic models that followed. They sought to adapt to modernity without embracing the soulless materialism and hypertrophied individualism that defined it.

Despite its influence on German National Socialism and occasional overlap with Fascist principles, it is a mistake to conflate the Conservative Revolution with either. While some Revolutionary Conservatives admired Italian Fascism for its order and dynamism, others viewed it as ideologically incompatible with their vision of a culturally and spiritually renewed Germany. Similarly, while certain figures later aligned themselves with the National Socialist movement, many rejected its racial materialism and populist tendencies as antithetical to the aristocratic and intellectual principles they championed. The Conservative Revolution, in its essence, was neither a precursor to Fascism nor a “proto-Nazi” ideology, as is often claimed, but an independent attempt to reimagine Germany’s future in light of its unique cultural and historical identity.

This intellectual and ideological diversity makes it difficult to reduce the movement to a single set of beliefs. Nevertheless, certain recurring themes can be discerned. Chief among them was the centrality of the Volk, understood not merely as a racial or ethnic category but as the cultural and spiritual essence of a people. The concept of Volksgemeinschaft, or “folk-community,” was another interrelated unifying idea, representing an organic society bound by the commonality of blood, culture, and purpose. Revolutionary Conservatives were united by their opposition to the forces tearing apart the very fabric of European society: Marxism, which pitted class against class and reduced life to mere material struggle; liberalism, which fueled the rise of radical individualism and societal atomization; and democracy, especially in its parliamentary form, which was a system easily bent to the will of outside manipulators and political elites, whose interests were often antithetical to the prosperity of Germany.

Another common thread was their rejection of the linear, progressive concept of history in favor of a cyclical view, where civilizations rise and fall according to deeper, almost metaphysical forces. This perspective shaped their critique of modernity and fueled their calls for a return to the timeless principles of past ages. Many also sought to develop a conservative form of socialism, one that rejected Marxist class conflict but embraced the idea of solidarity and the subordination of individual interests to the common good. Central to their vision was the belief in an elite, an aristocracy of merit and character, tasked with guiding society through the uncertainties of the modern age.

At its core, the Conservative Revolution was a response to the overwhelming disillusionment that followed Germany’s defeat in World War I. The humiliation of Versailles, the collapse of imperial authority, and the outright decadence of the Weimar Republic left many Germans searching for an alternative to the ideological polarities of Bolshevism and liberal capitalism. Revolutionary Conservatives sought to fill this void, combining a reverence for tradition with a readiness to break with the past where necessary. Their ideas were not static but dynamic, rooted in history yet aimed at a future where Germany could reclaim its position as a geopolitical, cultural, and spiritual leader within the West.

To grasp the movement in its full complexity, it is crucial to examine the key figures who shaped its intellectual landscape. Each of these thinkers brought unique insights and ambitions, collectively defining the Conservative Revolution as one of the most significant and multifaceted currents in Germany’s interwar period and beyond. The following sections will delve into their litany of contributions and explore the lasting impact of their ideas.

The Far-Reaching Thinkers

The Conservative Revolution was not merely a collection of abstract ideas but a comprehensive vision for Germany’s future, shaped by countless influential figures—too many to name here—who sought to fuse the ancestral legacy of culture and spirituality with political renewal. Mohler described the movement as uniquely “German,” rejecting the radical internationalism of the 1789 French Revolution.

Among those who imagined the establishment of a “Third Reich,” three figures stand out: Stefan George, Arthur Moeller van den Bruck, and Edgar Julius Jung. Each contributed uniquely to the movement, their ideas blending tradition and innovation in an effort to address Germany’s postwar crisis.

Stefan George, unlike Moeller and Jung, was not a philosopher or political theorist, but a poet. His work, though less systematic, carried immense cultural weight. George’s vision of a “new Reich” was expressed through his poetry, which became a source of inspiration for many young German nationalists and intellectuals. His words evoked a sense of spiritual revival and national destiny, offering a vision of unity that transcended the political chaos of the Weimar Republic. While his influence was indirect, it shaped the imaginations of a generation longing for a renewed Germany.

On a more intellectual level, however, it was Arthur Moeller van den Bruck and Edgar Julius Jung who provided the most significant philosophical and metaphysical foundations for the movement. Moeller, in particular, emerged as one of its foremost figures.

Arthur Moeller van den Bruck

Arthur Moeller van den Bruck, a cultural historian with a keen sense of Germany’s spiritual and political decay, became one of the leading theorists of the Conservative Revolution. Politically active in the aftermath of World War I, he co-founded the conservative “June Club” and became its ideological leader, advocating for a path that rejected both Marxism and liberal democracy. In his writings, Moeller sought to articulate a vision that preserved the essence of German culture while addressing the modern world’s challenges.

In The Prussian Style, he celebrated the unique qualities of the Prussian character, particularly its “will to the state,” which he viewed as a model of discipline, order, and devotion to the greater good. His concept of Prussianism was not limited to a geographical region but represented a broader ethical ideal: a collectivist ethos that prioritized duty, service, and sacrifice over individualism. In The Right of Young Peoples, Moeller contrasted “young peoples” like Germany, Russia, and America with “old peoples” such as England and France. The vitality of these younger nations, he argued, was the key to confronting and reversing the stagnation and decline of the older powers, and he envisioned an alliance among them to reshape the global order.

In 1922, Moeller collaborated with Heinrich von Gleichen and Max Hildebert Boehm to publish The New Front, a manifesto of the Jungkonservativen (“Young-Conservatives”). This work served as a call to those who rejected the status quo of the Weimar Republic and sought to create a new political paradigm. The following year, Moeller published his magnum opus, Germany’s Third Empire (Das Dritte Reich), a seminal work that outlined his comprehensive vision for Germany’s renewal.

In Germany’s Third Empire, Moeller categorized political ideologies into four groups: Revolutionary, Liberal, Reactionary, and Conservative. He criticized Revolutionaries, particularly Communists, as utopians disconnected from reality, who sought to erase history and traditions entirely. Liberals, he argued, were driven by an unrestrained individualism that fragmented societies and undermined cultural cohesion. Reactionaries, while loyal to tradition, were dismissed as unrealistic for their desire to recreate a romanticized past. By contrast, Conservatism, as Moeller defined it, was the most viable path forward because it sought to preserve a nation’s vitality by maintaining the values of the past while integrating new ideas that enhanced national strength. For Moeller, this was the essence of Revolutionary Conservatism: a dynamic balance between the forces of tradition and modernity.

Moeller’s critique of Marxism was scathing, rejecting its materialism and rationalism as shallow and incapable of addressing the deeper spiritual and cultural dimensions of society. “Socialism begins where Marxism ends,” he famously declared, advocating instead for a corporatist German socialism that emphasized national unity and rejected divisive class warfare. His vision of socialism was not about economics alone but a moral and cultural project that sought to harmonize society under a shared national purpose.

In terms of governance, Moeller rejected both republicanism and monarchy as inadequate for Germany’s future. For him, republicanism was too fragmented and ineffective, while monarchy was an outdated relic of an age long past. Instead, he envisioned a new form of leadership—a strong, charismatic leader who would embody the will of the people and unite the nation’s destiny with his own. “We need leaders who feel themselves at one with the nation, who identify the nation’s fate with their own,” he wrote. This leader, he believed, would preside over the establishment of a “Third Empire,” a state that would transcend the failures of the past and address Germany’s pressing challenges, including its population crisis and recently diminished geopolitical standing.

Moeller’s vision was ambitious, blending cultural revival with political transformation. His ideas found strong support among those seeking an alternative to the polarities of liberalism and Marxism, offering a vision of Germany as a revitalized, cohesive force on the world stage. Though his work would later influence elements of National Socialism, it was centered firmly in a broader and more complex intellectual tradition, distinct in its emphasis on cultural renewal and the rejection of racial materialism.

Edgar Julius Jung

Edgar Julius Jung was one of the most visionary and politically engaged figures of the Conservative Revolution. Unlike many of his contemporaries who focused solely on theoretical discourse, Jung actively sought to bring his ideas to fruition in the political arena. His magnum opus, Die Herrschaft der Minderwertigen (The Rule of the Inferior), delivered a devastating critique of liberal democracy while proposing a bold alternative premised on hierarchy, spirituality, and the restoration of traditional values. Often referred to as the “bible of neo-conservatism,” the work synthesized ideas from prominent thinkers such as Othmar Spann, Carl Schmitt, and Vilfredo Pareto, offering a comprehensive rejection of the ideological foundations that dominated post-Enlightenment Europe.

For Jung, liberal democracy represented the tyranny of mediocrity: rule by the masses, manipulated by demagogues and corrupted by the power of money. He regarded its fundamental tenets—universal suffrage, equality before the law, and the sovereignty of the people—as illusory, leading not to genuine freedom but to social fragmentation and the erosion of authority. Liberalism’s emphasis on individualism, he argued, dissolved the bonds that held communities together, replacing organic hierarchies with artificial and unsustainable constructs. To Jung, the ideals of the French Revolution—“liberty, equality, fraternity”—were toxic abstractions, severing mankind from nature, God, and the moral order.

Equally scornful of Marxism, Jung dismissed it as a materialistic ideology born from the same revolutionary fervor. He saw Marxism not as an antidote to liberalism but as its natural extension, reducing man’s existence to economic relations while fostering class envy and social decay. Both systems, in his view, shared a commitment to leveling society, erasing distinctions, and undermining the natural hierarchies essential to mankind's flourishing.

Jung’s vision for the Conservative Revolution was grounded in what he described as the “restoration of all those elementary laws and values without which man loses his ties with nature and God and without which he is incapable of building up a true order.” In contrast to the egalitarianism of liberalism and the collectivism of Marxism, he championed a society organized around inherent standards of excellence, where individuals found their place within a hierarchy guided by merit, character, and virtue. He envisioned an “organic elite” to lead society, replacing mechanical elections and bureaucratic leveling with self-governance grounded in responsibility and moral integrity.

In his imagined New Reich, Jung called for corporatist economics inspired by the medieval guild system, rejecting both capitalist exploitation and Marxist collectivism. The state, he argued, should be federalist in structure, allowing for the autonomy of its constituent parts while remaining unified under a shared national vision. Christian spirituality and the moral authority of the Church would animate this new order, providing a foundation for ethical governance. Leadership would rest in the hands of an authoritarian monarchy and an aristocracy of the best-qualified individuals, who would embody the principles of duty and service. “The state as the highest order of organic community must be an aristocracy,” Jung wrote, “in the last and highest sense: the rule of the best. Even democracy was founded with this claim.”

Jung also took aim at the racial materialism that characterized certain strands of early 20th-century thought, rejecting the reduction of race to biological determinism. Instead, he emphasized the primacy of cultural and spiritual factors, arguing that race was best understood as a product of shared traditions, values, and historical experiences. It was on this basis, rather than on biology alone, that he believed societal and political challenges, including the “Jewish Problem,” should be addressed. Similarly, Jung rejected narrow nationalism, advocating instead for a pan-European federalist empire that respected the distinctiveness of ethnic groups while fostering unity. For Jung, the new Reich would rest on “an indestructible volkisch foundation from which the struggle can take form.”

Jung was not content to limit his ideas to the written word; he was a man of action who sought to bring his vision to life. Throughout the 1920s and early 1930s, he worked tirelessly alongside like-minded conservatives, building alliances and advancing his vision for a renewed Germany. Struggle, for Jung, was not merely a necessity but a moral imperative. “If the German people see that, among them, combatants still live, then they become aware also of combat as the highest form of existence. The German destiny calls for men who master it. For, world-history makes the man,” he declared, emphasizing the transformative power of struggle in shaping both men and nations.

However, Jung’s relationship with the National Socialist movement was deeply antagonistic. He harbored a profound personal dislike for Adolf Hitler and viewed National Socialism as a modernist ideology rooted in the same materialism and mass politics he opposed. To Jung, National Socialism betrayed the principles of the Conservative Revolution by prioritizing racial determinism and populist rhetoric over cultural and spiritual renewal. His opposition came to a head in 1934, when he authored Franz von Papen’s Marburg address—a blistering critique of Hitler’s government and a plea for a more principled and restrained conservatism. This act of defiance marked Jung as a threat to the newly emerged National Socialist state, and he was arrested and executed during the Night of the Long Knives. His death symbolized the victory of the National Socialist order over the more nuanced and aristocratic ideals of the Conservative Revolution.

The Theorists

Oswald Spengler

Oswald Spengler was one of the most significant and influential thinkers of the Conservative Revolution, often referred to as the “doctor-prophet” for his sweeping vision of history’s cyclical nature and his sobering prognosis for Western civilization. His magnum opus, The Decline of the West, presented a sweeping theory of cultural development and decay, arguing that every High Culture possesses a unique “soul” that shapes its destiny. This soul, Spengler asserted, unfolds through a predictable lifecycle of birth, growth, fulfillment, decline, and eventual demise—paralleling the life of a plant. He expressed this idea with poetic intensity:

A Culture is born in the moment when a great soul awakens out of the proto-spirituality of ever-childish humanity, and detaches itself, a form from the formless, a bounded and mortal thing from the boundless and enduring. It blooms on the soil of an exactly-definable landscape, to which plant-wise it remains bound. It dies when the soul has actualized the full sum of its possibilities in the shape of peoples, languages, dogmas, arts, states, sciences, and reverts into the proto-soul.

Spengler’s distinction between Kultur (“Culture”) and Zivilisation (“Civilization”) became central to his analysis. Kultur represents the dynamic, creative phase of a High Culture—a period defined by vitality, religiosity, and a rising will-to-power. It is during this phase that the culture’s essence finds expression in art, philosophy, and spiritual life. By contrast, Zivilisation signals a culture’s decline into its later phase, characterized by urbanization, mechanization, rationalism, and decadence. Civilization, in Spengler’s view, is the final, hollow stage of a culture’s life, marked by sterility and the triumph of materialism over spirit.

Spengler identified three High Cultures as particularly significant: the Magian (emerging from the Middle East), the Classical (Greco-Roman), and the Western. He argued that the West, having entered its Zivilisation phase, was now on the brink of decline. This trajectory, he believed, would culminate in an age of imperialism and Caesarism—a period of authoritarian rule and militaristic expansion that represents the final burst of energy before a culture’s inevitable collapse. For Spengler, this decline was not a failure but an inescapable reality governed by the cyclical laws of history.

One of Spengler’s most notable contributions to the Conservative Revolution was his concept of “Prussian Socialism,” articulated in his work Prussianism and Socialism. In this vision, Spengler sought to reconcile the values of conservatism and socialism, presenting the Prussian ethos as a model of disciplined, collectivist, and state-oriented ethics. For Spengler, true socialism was not Marxist but moral, founded on duty and self-sacrifice rather than materialism and class conflict.

“Prussian Socialism” emphasized a collective sense of purpose, work ethic, discipline, and devotion to the state. It envisioned a society where individuals subordinated their personal ambitions to the greater good, guided by a shared mission of national unity and strength. Spengler rejected Marxism for its materialistic obsession with economics and its divisive class warfare, which he saw as antithetical to the spiritual and ethical bonds that sustain a nation. Similarly, he condemned liberalism and capitalism as corrosive forces that elevated individualism, greed, and exploitation at the expense of communal solidarity.

Spengler’s critique of liberalism was particularly scathing, denouncing it as a force of societal dissolution that eroded the values that hold civilizations together. Liberalism’s emphasis on unchecked freedom and individual rights, he argued, fostered selfishness and alienation, undermining the cohesive strength of cultural and national life. In contrast, Spengler’s Prussian Socialism envisioned a hierarchical society where leadership was based on merit and the moral authority to guide a unified, disciplined community.

Ludwig Klages

Ludwig Klages occupies a unique position within the Conservative Revolution as a philosopher who turned his focus not to the fall of civilizations, as Spengler did, but to the broader and more existential decline of life itself. His philosophy of “Biocentrism” sought to diagnose what he saw as mankind’s fundamental crisis: the severing of the vital connection between Soul (Seele) and Spirit (Geist). For Klages, this dichotomy symbolized two irreconcilable forces at war within man. The Soul represented life in its purest form—vital impulse, emotion, and a deep interconnected unity with nature. The Spirit, by contrast, embodied abstract intellect, rationalism, mechanization, and Will—qualities that, while advancing mankind’s material power, increasingly eroded its spiritual and vital essence.

In Klages’s view, early human history was characterized by an almost idyllic harmony between Soul and body. This primordial state allowed man to live in ecstatic unity with the natural world, guided by symbolic thought and an intuitive connection to Life. However, with the emergence of Spirit, this equilibrium was shattered. Spirit introduced conceptual thinking, technological innovation, and a mechanistic worldview that displaced man from his natural roots. This process, which Klages saw as the defining drama of history, marked the beginning of mankind’s alienation from its own vitality.

Klages was deeply critical of the progression of human history, which he described as a relentless march toward the domination of Spirit over Soul. He argued that this process had reached an advanced stage in modernity, where industrialization, urbanization, and technological development had reduced existence to mere survival within an artificial, mechanized environment. The human connection to nature, once the wellspring of spiritual and cultural vitality, had been severed, leaving a world dominated by abstraction and lifeless routine. “Already, the machine has liberated itself from man’s control,” Klages wrote. “It is no longer man’s servant: in reality, man himself is now being enslaved by the machine.”

For Klages, the triumph of Spirit represented a deep existential crisis, not only for individuals but for mankind as a whole. He believed that the domination of Spirit over Soul led to the destruction of the natural environment, the degeneration of cultural distinctions, and the loss of a sense of rootedness. As Spirit advanced, Life was reduced to mechanized existence, and the qualities that defined our species—creativity, emotion, and spiritual depth—were systematically eradicated. This process was not only irreversible, Klages believed, but would ultimately culminate in the extinction of mankind itself. “. . . the ultimate destruction of all seems to be a foregone conclusion,” he lamented.

Klages identified several key manifestations of this decline. One was the increasing disconnection from nature, as mankind retreated into artificial, urbanized spaces where natural rhythms were replaced by industrial schedules. Another was the destruction of cultural and racial identities, which Klages saw as vital expressions of life. He regarded the homogenization of mankind through industrial and economic systems as a direct consequence of Spirit’s dominance. Furthermore, he argued that technological progress, far from liberating mankind, had become a self-perpetuating force that enslaved all men to an inhuman system.

Despite the apparent pessimism of his philosophy, Klages’s work offered a radical critique of modernity that struck a deep chord with the Conservative Revolution. His emphasis on the primacy of life over mechanization and abstraction challenged the dominant ideologies of his time, including liberalism, Marxism, and industrial capitalism. Klages rejected the idea that progress was inherently positive, arguing instead that it often came at the expense of the qualities that made existence meaningful. His warnings about the environmental destruction and spiritual alienation caused by industrial society anticipated many of the concerns of later ecological and anti-modernist thinkers.

Klages’s philosophy also had a poetic dimension, as he sought to evoke a vision of what mankind had lost in its pursuit of technological mastery. He celebrated the Soul as the source of creativity, emotion, and connection, advocating a return to a life in harmony with the rhythms of nature and the intuitive wisdom of ancient cultures. While he acknowledged the near impossibility of reversing the dominance of Spirit, his work served as a call to recognize the costs of modernity and to resist its dehumanizing tendencies.

While Spengler analyzed the cycles of cultural rise and fall, Klages delved into the existential underpinnings of those cycles, arguing that the loss of Soul was the ultimate cause of decay. His warnings about the dangers of mechanization, abstraction, and the disconnection from nature remain strikingly relevant, offering a timeless critique of the modern world’s discontents.

Spann and The True State

Othmar Spann, a professor at the University of Vienna from 1919 to 1938, played a pivotal role in shaping the intellectual contours of the Conservative Revolution. Although less widely known than some of his contemporaries, Spann’s contributions offered a critique of modernity and a blueprint for an integrated, hierarchical society. His theory of “Universalism” presented a sweeping vision of social and political order, rejecting the atomizing tendencies of individualism and the materialist ideologies that defined his era. These ideas were most fully articulated in his seminal work, Der wahre Staat (The True State), a manifesto for a cohesive, corporatist state grounded in Christian ethics and traditional hierarchy.

Despite his early enthusiasm for National Socialism, Spann quickly found himself at odds with the Third Reich due to major irreconcilable ideological differences. His dismissal from academia in 1938 underscored the tension between his philosophical principles and political realities of National Socialist Germany. Spann’s Universalism sought to reconcile the individual with the community, crafting a vision of a state that prioritized organic unity and spiritual renewal over the divisive forces of modern liberalism and socialism.

At the core of Spann’s Universalism was his rejection of radical individualism, which he defined as the belief that individuals are autonomous entities existing independently of any larger reality. He viewed this ideology as corrosive, reducing society to a collection of isolated individuals and eroding the organic bonds that sustain man’s communities. Spann’s critique did not negate the importance of the individual but insisted that individual fulfillment could only be achieved within the framework of a larger whole. He argued that the collective—whether it be society, the community, or the state—preceded the individual in both existence and importance. “It is the fundamental truth of all social science . . . that it is not the individuals that are the truly real, but the whole, and that the individuals have reality and existence only so far as they are members of the whole,” he wrote. This perspective informed his rejection of modern ideologies that fragmented society and prioritized personal gain over collective well-being.

Spann’s critique of modernity encompassed a broad range of targets, including liberalism, capitalism, democracy, and Marxian socialism. He saw these systems as products of the Enlightenment’s individualist and materialist ethos, which he traced back to the French Revolution. Liberalism, with its emphasis on personal autonomy and individual rights, undermined the moral fabric of society by fostering selfishness and alienation. Capitalism exacerbated this problem by commodifying man’s relationships and subordinating communal values to market forces. Democracy, particularly in its parliamentary form, negated natural hierarchies by treating all individuals as politically equal, regardless of their merit or worth. Marxian socialism, while ostensibly opposing capitalism, shared its materialist foundations and its disregard for the spiritual and cultural dimensions of life. For Spann, these ideologies atomized society and replaced genuine community with artificial constructs, leading to alienation and instability.

Spann warned of the existential consequences of this fragmentation, observing that “Mankind can reconcile itself to poverty because it will be and remain poor forever. But to the loss of estate, existential insecurity, uprootedness, and nothingness, the masses of affected people can never reconcile themselves.” He believed the alienation and insecurity of modern life stemmed directly from the breakdown of the organic integration that once characterized traditional societies.

As a remedy for this decay, Spann proposed the formation of a True State—a Christian, corporatist, hierarchical, and authoritarian order that would restore harmony between individuals and the community. In this vision, society would be structured around functional and cooperative units, modeled after the medieval guild system. Families, professions, and local communities would form the foundation of the state, each fulfilling its role in accordance with its nature and purpose. This structure would replace the adversarial dynamics of class conflict and economic competition with mutual responsibility and cooperation. Religion, particularly Christianity, would serve as the spiritual backbone of this new order, providing moral guidance and fostering a sense of unity and purpose.

Spann’s ideas found alignment in the work of Hans Freyer, another thinker within the Conservative Revolution who shared his disdain for the legacy of the Enlightenment. Freyer critiqued secularism, universal reason, and the emphasis on individual autonomy, viewing them as corrosive to cultural and spiritual integrity. He envisioned a “totally integrated society” in which culture, Volk, religion, and the state formed a unified whole. Freyer believed such a society required a powerful, non-democratic state to resist the destabilizing forces of urbanization, industrialization, and democratization. Like Spann, Freyer initially supported the National Socialists, hoping their movement would fulfill his vision. However, he soon grew disillusioned with what he considered the NSDAP's repressive policies and ideological deviations from his idea of the organic state.

Spann’s legacy lies in his ability to articulate a vision of society that transcended the conflicts and divisions of his time. His Universalism, with its emphasis on organic unity, moral duty, and spiritual renewal, offered a powerful critique of modernity’s failures and a provocative alternative to its dominant ideologies. Although his influence waned during the Third Reich, Spann’s ideas remain a testament to the broad appeal of a society firmly ensconced in tradition, hierarchy, and collective purpose.

Zehrer and the Theory of Elitism

Hans Zehrer was one of the most intriguing figures of the Conservative Revolution, embodying a synthesis of intellectualism and political ambition. As a key contributor to Die Tat (“The Action”), a widely read “neoconservative” magazine of the Weimar era, and the driving force behind the Tat-Kreis (“Tat-Circle”), Zehrer sought to forge a new political and cultural elite that could rescue Germany from the instability of the interwar years. He believed that historical change was initiated by small, intelligent elites—gifted men who recognized the disparity between the status quo and the potential for a higher order. For Zehrer, these new elites, drawn from across all social classes, were essential in shaping the ideas and structures that would define the next era of political and social life.

Zehrer’s theory aligned with Vilfredo Pareto’s concept of the “circulation of elites,” which emphasized that societies must continually renew their leadership by incorporating individuals of exceptional talent and vision. Zehrer expanded on this idea by asserting that intellectuals, in the true sense of the term—not the modernist notion of men focused solely on “bookish pursuits”—capable men of thought and action, were uniquely suited to lead. In his view, these intellectuals were not confined by the narrow interests of a specific social class but could transcend such base limitations to articulate and implement a vision for the common weal. This belief reflected his deep commitment to meritocracy and his disdain for the hereditary privilege that had defined many traditional elites.

The Germany of Zehrer’s time, however, was far removed from his ideal. The Weimar Republic, in his estimation, was a failed experiment—a weak and chaotic regime unable to address the pressing crises of economic collapse, political fragmentation, and cultural decay. The middle class, once the stabilizing force of German society, had been left adrift, battered by inflation, unemployment, and the erosion of traditional values. As a member of this beleaguered class, Zehrer envisioned a political revolution led by its younger, intellectually gifted members. This “revolution from above” would overthrow the mediocrity of parliamentary democracy and replace it with an authoritarian elite, not defined by wealth or birth but by ability, virtue, and a commitment to national renewal.

Zehrer’s vision for this new order was ambitious. He dreamed of a Germany governed by a leadership class selected solely on merit—a class that would rise above the partisan squabbles of the Weimar years and the populist appeals of mass movements. This elite would not be subject to the whims of the masses but would govern with a sense of duty and responsibility. By prioritizing quality over quantity, this authoritarian elite would act as stewards of a society organized around hierarchy, discipline, and shared values.

However, the realities of German politics in the 1920s and 1930s proved to be an insurmountable obstacle for Zehrer’s ambitions. The rise of the National Socialist German Workers’ Party (NSDAP) marked a turn toward populist authoritarianism that Zehrer found distasteful, despite his initial attempts to influence its trajectory. While he saw in National Socialism a potential vehicle for the establishment of an authoritarian state, he ultimately recoiled from its mass-oriented, ideologically rigid nature. Zehrer’s disdain for Party rule and his inability to reconcile his vision of intellectual leadership with the NSDAP’s populist methods left him politically isolated. By the early 1930s, he had withdrawn from public life, retreating from the political arena he once sought to transform.

Despite his failure to realize his vision, Zehrer’s ideas held enduring significance within the Conservative Revolution. His emphasis on the necessity of an authoritarian elite resonated with other thinkers in the movement, even if they did not share his specific focus on intellectuals as the foundation of that elite. The broader Conservative Revolutionary ethos, which sought to replace egalitarian democracy with a hierarchical and meritocratic order, reflected many of Zehrer’s principles. He championed the idea that leadership should be open to individuals of exceptional ability from all social classes, ensuring that governance was based on competence and moral character rather than inherited privilege or popular appeal.

Zehrer’s work also highlighted the tensions within the Conservative Revolution itself. While figures like Oswald Spengler and Arthur Moeller van den Bruck sought to inspire broad cultural and political renewal, Zehrer’s approach was more narrowly focused on the creation of a new ruling class. This emphasis on elitism distinguished him from his peers but also limited his practical influence, as the populist forces of the time eclipsed his vision of a revolution led by intellectuals.

In retrospect, Zehrer’s ideas stand as both a critique of Weimar-era democracy and a testament to the Conservative Revolution’s commitment to hierarchy and excellence.

Sombart and Conservative Socialism

The synthesis of socialism with nationalist and conservative ideals was a defining feature of the Conservative Revolution, and few embodied this fusion as compellingly as Werner Sombart. Alongside thinkers like Paul Lensch, Johann Plenge, Arthur Moeller van den Bruck, and Oswald Spengler, Sombart contributed to the articulation of a distinctively German Socialism—one that sought to transcend the failures of both Marxism and capitalism by rooting economic life in cultural, spiritual, and national foundations. This movement built upon a long tradition of non-Marxist socialism in Germany, including the work of the Kathedersozialisten (“socialists of the chair”), Adolf Stöcker, and Ferdinand Tönnies, who emphasized the moral and communal dimensions of economic organization.

Sombart’s intellectual journey began with an engagement with Marxism, which initially shaped his early critiques of capitalism. However, he eventually grew disillusioned with Marxist theory, recognizing its materialist and internationalist framework as antithetical to the preservation of man's dignity, cultural identity, and organic community. For Sombart, both Marxism and capitalism were two sides of the same coin, representing different manifestations of the same underlying materialist ethos. Both systems, he argued, prioritized economic determinism and class conflict over the spiritual and moral imperatives that bind a society and people together.

Sombart is best remembered for his incisive critique of capitalism, particularly in his examination of its dehumanizing effects on society. He argued that capitalism’s endless pursuit of profit, its ruthless and impersonal business practices, and its indifference to quality had destroyed the communal bonds that once characterized pre-modern economies. In medieval society, economic activity was deeply integrated into the moral fabric of the community, fostering cooperation and mutual obligation. By contrast, capitalism, driven by what he called “the merely rationalizing and abstracting characteristics of the trader,” reduced man’s relationships to transactions and commodified every aspect of life. Sombart wrote, “Before capitalism could develop, the natural man had to be changed out of all recognition, and a rationalistically minded mechanism introduced in his stead. There had to be a transvaluation of all economic values.” This transformation, he argued, represented a profound loss of the spiritual and ethical dimensions that once defined economic life.

Sombart’s analysis extended to the cultural and ethnic underpinnings of capitalism. He explored the role of Jews in shaping the capitalist ethos, arguing that the materialistic tendencies he associated with capitalism were reflected in Jewish economic practices and values. This line of thought, while controversial and widely critiqued, was integral to Sombart’s broader effort to understand the historical and cultural forces that gave rise to modern economic systems. He viewed capitalism not merely as an economic phenomenon but as a cultural and spiritual crisis, one that undermined the very foundations of community and tradition.

Equally critical of Marxism, Sombart rejected its vision of a classless, internationalist society as a denial of the deep connections and diversity inherent in human cultures. He saw Marxism’s suppression of religious and national sentiment as a direct assault on the higher aspirations that give life meaning, reducing man to mere economic beings. In this sense, he viewed Marxism as sharing capitalism’s fundamental flaw: an emphasis on material conditions at the expense of spiritual and cultural vitality. For Sombart, Marxism aimed not at a noble or elevated mankind but at a utilitarian ideal of base “happiness” devoid of depth or purpose.

In response to the dual failures of Marxism and capitalism, Sombart advocated for a new economic order he called German Socialism. This system was firmly established on the values of community, hierarchy, and the welfare of the state as a whole. German Socialism would reject both the exploitative dynamics of capitalism and the class antagonisms of Marxism, emphasizing instead a corporatist model of cooperation between social groups. Economic policies would be “directed in a corporative manner,” ensuring that individual ambition and private profit were subordinated to the collective good. Sombart envisioned a society where traditional hierarchies were preserved, but where exploitation was curbed, and the welfare of the entire community was upheld.

German Socialism, as conceived by Sombart, was not merely an economic program but a vision for the spiritual and cultural renewal of society. It sought to restore the ethical and communal dimensions of economic life, integrating material prosperity with the deeper needs of the human spirit. This vision was deeply conservative, emphasizing the preservation of cultural identity, religious values, and national solidarity. At the same time, it was revolutionary in its insistence on transcending the materialism and alienation of modern systems, offering a path toward a more harmonious and integrated social order.

Sombart’s work must also be understood within the broader intellectual currents of the Conservative Revolution. Arthur Moeller van den Bruck and Oswald Spengler shared his critique of modernity and his desire to reconcile social reform with the preservation of traditional values. Together, these thinkers sought to articulate a “third way” that rejected the false dichotomy of Marxism and capitalism, advocating instead for a vision of society grounded in hierarchy, community, and spiritual depth.

Ultimately, Sombart’s ideas serve as a critique of the moral and cultural failures of modernity and an affirmation of the timeless importance of connection to tradition. His German Socialism offered not only an economic alternative but also a vision for the renewal of society itself, one that continues to provoke reflection on the relationship between economy, culture, and community.

A New Nationalism: Ernst Jünger

Ernst Jünger stands as one of the most provocative and, aside from Oswald Spengler, perhaps the most well-known figure of the Conservative Revolution. Renowned for his philosophical reflections on warfare and modernity, Jünger occupies a unique place in 20th-century thought. His work, deeply influenced by his experiences as a decorated soldier in World War I, celebrates the transformative power of conflict while offering a stinging critique of the decadence and spiritual emptiness of bourgeois civilization. To Jünger, the comforts of modern life—its pursuit of security, happiness, and perfection—represented not progress, but decline. Against this backdrop, he championed the figure of the warrior—a man forged in the crucible of battle, embodying discipline, courage, and a transcendence of the banalities of bourgeois existence.

Jünger’s wartime experiences are vividly captured in his celebrated memoir Storm of Steel. This work, among his most famous, provides an unflinching account of life in the trenches, offering a deeply personal yet philosophical exploration of war. Jünger portrayed combat as both harrowing and sublime, emphasizing its power to strip away the false comforts of modernity and reveal deeper truths about life, death, and the human condition. In Storm of Steel, Jünger does not lament the horrors of war as much as he embraces its intensity, describing how it fosters camaraderie, discipline, and a heightened awareness of existence. For Jünger, the battlefield became a realm of existential authenticity, where men could transcend the mediocrity of bourgeois life and discover their higher selves.

Building on these themes, Jünger extended his analysis of modernity in Der Arbeiter (The Worker), where he introduced the archetype of the worker. As technological and industrial forces reshaped the 20th century, Jünger observed the decline of the old world of knights, kings, and warriors and the rise of a new societal order dominated by mechanization and mass mobilization. The worker, in Jünger’s vision, embodied the disciplined, collectivist spirit required to navigate this new reality. While the warrior had defined the pre-industrial age, the worker became the representative figure of the modern era, a person defined by service to a larger, impersonal system rather than individual freedom or creativity.

An integral component of Jünger’s vision of modernity was the concept of “total mobilization.” He argued that the industrialized world demanded the integration of every aspect of life—war, labor, and even leisure—into a unified, mechanized order. He wrote, “Total Mobilization is far less consummated than it consummates itself; in war and peace, it expresses the secret and inexorable claim to which our life in the age of masses and machines subjects us. It thus turns out that each individual life becomes, ever more unambiguously, the life of a worker; and that, following the wars of knights, kings, and citizens, we now have wars of workers. The first great twentieth-century conflict has offered us a presentiment of both their rational structure and their mercilessness.”

This vision of a mobilized, mechanized society revealed Jünger’s ambivalence about modernity. On the one hand, he admired the discipline and unity that such a system could impose, viewing it as a potential antidote to the chaos and fragmentation of liberal individualism. On the other hand, he recognized the dehumanizing effects of such an order, where individuality and freedom were sacrificed to the demands of technology and bureaucracy. His brother, Friedrich Georg Jünger, was an outspoken critic of technological civilization, and while Ernst initially resisted such critiques, he would later come to share many of his brother’s concerns.

Over time, Jünger’s views evolved significantly. During and after World War II, he distanced himself from his earlier glorification of war and embraced themes of peace, individualism, and spiritual renewal. This shift, which some on the Right viewed as a retreat from his radicalism, reflected a broader reexamination of the forces he had once celebrated. Jünger began to critique the very systems of industrialization and mobilization that he had previously admired, recognizing their potential to strip mankind of its dignity and authenticity.

Despite this evolution, Jünger’s early works, particularly Storm of Steel and Der Arbeiter, remain foundational to his intellectual legacy. They capture the tension between tradition and modernity, individuality and collectivism, and heroism and mechanization that defined the 20th century. His ability to confront these contradictions without resorting to simplistic answers ensured his place as one of the most lasting and influential figures of the Conservative Revolution.

Ernst Niekisch

Ernst Niekisch was one of the most unconventional and radical thinkers of the Conservative Revolution, crafting a distinctive ideology that fused German nationalism with elements of Russian communism, which came to be known as National Bolshevism. Beginning his political career within the Communist movement, Niekisch eventually broke from its internationalist framework, developing a vision that sought to align revolutionary socialism with the patriotic aspirations of a humiliated Germany. His doctrine was an audacious attempt to merge two seemingly irreconcilable ideologies, creating a platform for national renewal and geopolitical resistance.

National Bolshevism, as envisioned by Niekisch, was based on a pragmatic and strategic outlook. He advocated for a political and military alliance between Soviet Russia and Germany, believing that their combined revolutionary energies could dismantle the post-World War I order imposed by the Versailles Treaty. This partnership, he argued, would not only restore Germany’s sovereignty but also serve as a counterbalance to the capitalist, liberal powers of the West, particularly Britain and France. To Niekisch, both Germany and Soviet Russia represented nations with the vitality and revolutionary will necessary to overthrow the decadent and exploitative Western order.

Niekisch’s ideology was fundamentally anti-Western. He viewed the liberal democracies of the West as embodiments of a materialistic, bourgeois spirit that prioritized individualism and economic exploitation over collective purpose and national strength. By contrast, he saw Soviet communism as a revolutionary force that could be harnessed to reinvigorate Germany, provided it was stripped of its internationalist ambitions and reoriented toward a nationalist framework. In this sense, Niekisch’s National Bolshevism was not an ideological compromise but a radical reimagining of socialism as a tool for national liberation and geopolitical resistance.

Despite its originality, National Bolshevism faced hostility from both sides of the political spectrum. Orthodox Communists rejected Niekisch’s nationalism as incompatible with Marxist internationalism, while German nationalists, particularly the National Socialists, saw his embrace of Bolshevik ideas as anathema to their vision of Germany’s future. This ideological isolation left Niekisch and his followers marginalized, their movement remaining a small and often misunderstood faction within the broader landscape of interwar German politics.

Niekisch’s rivalry with the NSDAP was particularly intense. While both shared a disdain for the Treaty of Versailles and the Weimar Republic, Niekisch condemned the National Socialists for their focus on racial ideology and their alignment with elements of the Western capitalist order. He viewed Hitler and his movement as insufficiently revolutionary, accusing them of betraying Germany’s potential for true national and social renewal. This opposition placed Niekisch in direct conflict with the Party, further isolating his movement and leading to his eventual persecution under the Third Reich.

Though National Bolshevism failed to gain widespread support, Niekisch’s ideas exemplified the intellectual daring and diversity of the Conservative Revolution. His doctrine, while controversial, offered a bold alternative to the political orthodoxies of his time, challenging both the materialism of the West and the dogmatic internationalism of Marxism. In advocating for a revolutionary synthesis of socialism and nationalism, Niekisch sought to chart a path for Germany that was neither reactionary nor submissive to foreign powers, but instead aimed at forging a new and independent future.

His National Bolshevism, though politically unsuccessful, reflects the radical experimentation and ideological fluidity that characterized the intellectual ferment of interwar Germany. Moreover, his National Bolshevism has influenced contemporary thinkers like Alexander Dugin and his Eurasianism.

Political Theory: Carl Schmitt

Carl Schmitt is widely regarded as one of the most influential political and legal theorists of the 20th century, whose works remain pivotal to discussions on sovereignty, democracy, and the nature of political authority. Known for his incisive critiques of liberalism and parliamentary democracy, Schmitt’s intellectual legacy is anchored in his exploration of the existential dimensions of politics and his advocacy for decisive action in times of crisis. His major works, including The Concept of the Political, Political Theology, and The Crisis of Parliamentary Democracy, have shaped the fields of political theory and constitutional law, leaving an indelible impact on modern political thought.

At the center of Schmitt’s philosophy lies his definition of “the political” as the distinction between “friend” and “enemy.” This distinction, he argued, is fundamental to the very existence of politics. It reflects the potential for conflict between groups, whether external, such as wars between nations, or internal, such as civil conflicts. Schmitt’s view of politics is not confined to the routine administration of governance but instead emphasizes the existential stakes of collective identity. For him, the political arises when a group defines itself in opposition to another, forging unity through the identification of an adversary. This identification is not symbolic but tangible, with the potential for confrontation being a defining characteristic of the political.

Schmitt’s theory of the political challenged the liberal ideal of politics as a realm of negotiation, compromise, and rational debate. He contended that liberalism sought to depoliticize society by denying the inevitability of conflict and prioritizing pluralism and individual rights. This depoliticization, Schmitt argued, undermined the cohesion and decisiveness necessary for a state to act effectively in moments of crisis. For Schmitt, the essence of politics lay not in consensus-building but in decision-making, particularly the ability to define and confront existential threats.

Sovereignty, another key element in Schmitt’s thought, was intimately tied to his conception of the political. He famously defined the sovereign as “he who decides on the exception.” In Schmitt’s framework, sovereignty is not merely the authority to govern within legal frameworks but the power to suspend those frameworks when the survival of the state demands it. The state of exception—a moment when normal legal procedures are set aside to address extraordinary circumstances—reveals the ultimate authority of the sovereign. For Schmitt, this capacity to act outside the constraints of legality is the essence of political power, underscoring the primacy of existential necessity over procedural norms.

Schmitt’s defense of exceptional measures extended to his analysis of dictatorship, which he distinguished from tyranny. In his view, dictatorship was a legitimate response to emergencies, aimed at restoring order and safeguarding the state. Tyranny, by contrast, was the misuse of power for personal or arbitrary ends. Schmitt’s argument reflected his belief that the stability of the state sometimes required extraordinary action, particularly in times of crisis when the mechanisms of parliamentary democracy might prove too slow or ineffective.

His critique of parliamentary democracy was grounded in his skepticism about its ability to function as intended. Schmitt argued that the theoretical foundation of parliamentarism—the idea that open debate and rational discussion among representatives would lead to sound governance—was fundamentally flawed. In practice, he observed, parliamentary systems were dominated by party politics, interest groups, and behind-the-scenes negotiations, rendering genuine deliberation and decision-making impossible. Instead of fostering unity and effective governance, parliamentary systems often exacerbated fragmentation and indecision.

Schmitt’s vision of democracy diverged radically from liberal interpretations. He rejected the idea that democracy required the equal treatment of all groups within a society. Instead, he argued that true democracy rested on homogeneity—a shared identity, culture, and purpose among the people. In his words, “Every actual democracy rests on the principle that not only are equals equal but unequals will not be treated equally. Democracy requires, therefore, first homogeneity and second—if the need arises—elimination or eradication of heterogeneity.” For Schmitt, the unity of a democratic state depended on the exclusion of elements deemed incompatible with the collective identity, as political coherence required a clear distinction between insiders and outsiders.

Schmitt also explored the role of enmity in political cohesion. He argued that the identification of an enemy was essential for maintaining unity within a political community. By focusing collective energies against a common adversary, societies could transcend internal divisions and reaffirm their identity and purpose. This emphasis on the friend-enemy distinction reinforced Schmitt’s broader critique of liberalism, which he saw as unable to confront the existential realities of politics.

The continued relevance of Schmitt’s ideas lies in their ability to challenge conventional assumptions about the nature of politics, sovereignty, and law. His critiques of parliamentary inefficiencies, his emphasis on the necessity of decision-making, and his exploration of the dynamics of conflict offer valuable insights into the functioning of modern states. Schmitt’s concept of the political continues to influence debates on the limits of constitutionalism, the role of the state in times of crisis, and the persistence of conflict in international relations.

Carl Schmitt’s thought reflects the intellectual depth and heterodox radicalism of the Conservative Revolution. His exploration of the existential dimensions of politics, the role of sovereignty, and the dynamics of conflict provides a framework for understanding the challenges faced by states in an increasingly complex and contested world. By emphasizing the necessity of decisiveness and the realities of power, Schmitt’s work remains a vital contribution to political theory and a testament to the richness of interwar intellectual thought.

Karl Haushofer

Karl Haushofer was a pioneering figure in the field of geopolitics, a discipline that explores the relationship between geography and political power. As a political theorist and geographer, Haushofer sought to redefine Germany’s understanding of international relations, emphasizing the critical role of territorial expansion, resource control, and strategic alliances in securing national strength. His work reflected the broader intellectual ferment of interwar Germany, where questions of national survival and geopolitical resurgence dominated political thought. Notably, Rudolf Hess, who later became a prominent figure in the National Socialist movement, was among Haushofer’s disciples, studying under him and absorbing his geopolitical theories during their association at the University of Munich.

Central to Haushofer’s geopolitical theory was the concept of Lebensraum, or “living space.” He argued that a nation’s vitality depended on its ability to secure sufficient territory to support its population and sustain economic growth. In his view, overpopulation and resource scarcity posed existential threats to nations, which could only be resolved through the acquisition of new land. For Germany, Haushofer identified Eastern Europe and parts of Asia as potential regions for colonization, advocating for territorial expansion as a means of addressing demographic pressures and ensuring the country’s future prosperity. This focus on Lebensraum placed Haushofer’s ideas at the heart of Germany’s strategic debates during the interwar period.

Haushofer’s geopolitical vision was not limited to territorial expansion; it also included a critique of the prevailing global order. He viewed the Anglo-American powers as dominant forces that constrained Germany’s aspirations, perpetuating an inequitable balance of power that favored maritime empires over continental states. To counter this hegemony, Haushofer proposed the formation of a Eurasian alliance, with Germany and Russia as its core. This partnership, he believed, would unite the industrial and agricultural strengths of both nations, creating a powerful bloc capable of resisting Anglo-American hegemony. His advocacy for this German-Russian alignment reflects his broader Eurasianist perspective, which emphasized the strategic importance of continental cooperation in challenging the dominance of maritime powers.

Haushofer’s theories were intrinsically connected to his understanding of geography as a determinant of political power. He argued that nations with vast territories, access to resources, and secure borders were inherently more stable and capable of projecting influence. This geographical determinism informed his view of geopolitics as a discipline that transcended ideological and cultural differences, focusing instead on the material conditions that shaped the rise and fall of states. His ideas drew on the works of earlier geopolitical thinkers such as Friedrich Ratzel, Halford Mackinder, and Rudolf Kjellén, but Haushofer sought to adapt their theories to Germany’s unique historical and strategic context.

While Haushofer’s intellectual contributions were influential, his advocacy for a German-Russian alliance placed him at odds with the ideological and strategic priorities of the National Socialists. Although he initially supported the National Socialists and sought to influence their policies, his emphasis on cooperation with Russia conflicted with Germany’s aggressive anti-Communist and expansionist agenda. National Socialist geopoliticians, who prioritized conquest over collaboration, rejected Haushofer’s Eurasianist vision, sidelining his ideas within the broader framework of their strategy.

Haushofer’s sidelining within the Third Reich did not diminish the broader impact of his work on the field of geopolitics. His emphasis on the interplay between geography, politics, and power laid the foundation for modern geopolitical analysis, influencing both academic study and practical policymaking. His concept of Lebensraum, while controversial today, highlighted the ways in which territorial imperatives could shape national strategy, and his advocacy for strategic alliances underscored the importance of international cooperation in achieving geopolitical objectives.

Despite the rejection of his ideas by Party leaders, Haushofer’s theories have remained influential in discussions of international relations. His insights into the geographical determinants of power, the strategic potential of alliances, and the importance of territorial security remain relevant in understanding the dynamics of global politics. His work also reflects the broader concerns of the Conservative Revolution, with its emphasis on national strength, sovereignty, and the reassertion of German geopolitical might in the face of decline.

The Influences of the Conservative Revolution

The myriad thinkers of the Conservative Revolution decisively shaped political and intellectual discourse in early 20th-century Germany and left a lasting impact on nationalist and traditionalist thought, extending far beyond their time. Their ideas emerged as a direct response to the cultural and political collapse of Germany following its defeat in the First World War. These thinkers sought to construct a framework that blended tradition and modernity, offering a way to rejuvenate the nation through a synthesis of cultural renewal and political transformation.

The influence of Revolutionary Conservative thinkers is most directly seen in their contributions to National Socialist ideology, albeit in a filtered and adapted form. While the Conservative Revolution itself stood apart from and often opposed the ideology of the NSDAP, thinkers such as Arthur Moeller van den Bruck and Oswald Spengler provided conceptual tools that shaped early National Socialist intellectual discourse. Even Otto Strasser, who broke with the NSDAP to pursue his own form of socialist nationalism, drew heavily from the broader Conservative Revolutionary movement, particularly its critiques of materialism and its calls for a spiritual and cultural revival.

Francis Parker Yockey, the American author of Imperium, provides a striking example of how the Conservative Revolution’s ideas persisted and evolved beyond Germany. Yockey absorbed the works of Spengler, Schmitt, Haushofer, and Sombart, adapting their themes to the post-World War II era. He advanced their critique of modernity, arguing for the necessity of cultural unity and strength to counteract the decline of Western civilization. Yockey’s vision of a unified European bloc opposed to the liberalism of the United States reflects the same civilizational ethos that animated much of the Conservative Revolution.

Julius Evola, the Italian traditionalist philosopher, also integrated the principles of the Conservative Revolution into his own worldview. His writings, including Revolt Against the Modern World, Men Among the Ruins, and many others, echo the movement’s rejection of materialism, egalitarianism, and parliamentary democracy. Evola’s vision of a hierarchical and spiritually oriented society aligns closely with the ideals of figures like Moeller van den Bruck and Edgar Julius Jung. His emphasis on transcendence and metaphysical order sought to reclaim the sacred in an increasingly mechanized and secular age.

The European New Right, which emerged in the late 20th century, continues to draw heavily on the Conservative Revolution. Armin Mohler, a key figure of the European New Right, was instrumental in documenting and preserving the intellectual legacy of Revolutionary Conservative thinkers. His seminal work, The Conservative Revolution in Germany, 1918-1932, remains a crucial resource for understanding the breadth and depth of the movement. The New Right’s emphasis on ethnocultural identity, the preservation of tradition, and the rejection of egalitarian dogma draws extensively from the groundwork laid by Schmitt, Spengler, and others. Furthermore, its metapolitical undercurrents have significantly shaped right-leaning politics across the Western world.

In the present age, as the West grapples with demographic shifts, cultural fragmentation, and the erosion of traditional values, the vision of the Conservative Revolution feels more vital than ever. Its emphasis on cultural cohesion, national identity, and the rejection of materialist and individualist ideologies offers a counterpoint to the dominant liberal paradigm. Revolutionary Conservative thinkers understood that a society must be more than a collection of individuals; it must be bound by a shared blood, purpose, and sense of destiny. Their calls for a hierarchical and organic social order find renewed relevance in the search for alternatives to the atomization and decadence of the modern age.

The thinkers of the Conservative Revolution forged a vision born from an age of upheaval and decline, addressing the timeless questions of identity, culture, and power—questions that remain vital to the survival and renewal of any civilization. In the midst of our own era of fragmentation, their works offer not merely inspiration but a way forward, blending the wisdom of the past with the imperatives of the present. The ideas of the Conservative Revolution remain as relevant today as when they were first formulated, a testament to their lasting power, serving as a polestar to guide us through today’s turmoil and toward a future of strength, honor, the timeless spirit of tradition, and the prospect of civilizational rebirth.