Aleister Crowley | I find many of Edward Alexander “Aleister” Crowley’s words and deeds to be far removed from my own, yet there is much within him that is both profound and compelling. He was undeniably a juggernaut in his contempt for a Christianity he believed had suppressed humanity’s natural passions for two millennia. It thus brings a smile to my face to note the striking parallels between our lives. He was raised within the fundamentalist Plymouth Brethren; I was raised in the Pentecostal congregation Milde Due. In his youth, he feared hell and suffered nightmares; I experienced the same. He walked with his father through Leamington as his father proselytized; I walked with my father through Barkaleitet, distributing tracts for our congregation. He lost his evangelist father at a young age, and his father provided him with a general spiritual foundation. I lost my evangelist father at a young age, and his insistence that he was a spiritual being gave me a general interest in the spiritual. He was swept away and inspired by apocalyptic visions, spectacular biblical imagery, and the terrifying grandeur of the scriptures. I was inspired by occult texts and artifacts in childhood literature and newspaper clippings. He wrote of his break with faith in his youth and its consequences; I wrote the novel Way. He turned his back on his university degree while approaching its completion to become a Magus; I, already holding a Bachelor’s degree, abandoned my Master’s studies at their midpoint for Maksima. He penned his individualistic ‘declaration,’ his new religion, with his wife, Rose, in Cairo in 1904; I wrote the precursor to The Maksima Declaration with my wife as my primary intellectual confidante in Bergen in 2007. He maintained that sex and love were central to attaining spiritual insight (and even magical abilities). I contend that sex and love can play a pivotal role in relation to the spiritually potential. He was repeatedly scandalized in the mass media; I, too, provoked international media coverage years ago. He was an individualist who preached that every human must find their True Will and walk their unique path; I am an individualist preaching ‘maximum happiness at all times,’ asserting that only the individual can know what truly satisfies their senses and soul. He dedicated years to profound study before establishing his foundational texts; I followed the same path. He harbored political ambitions and cultivated contacts across various political factions with the aim of instituting his religion; I am the founder of Maksima. He was a proud prankster; I am the same. He sought to ‘usher in a new aeon.’ I, through Maksima, intend to do the same.
‘(Aleister Crowley) hoped to usher in his own new aeon by tearing down the entire social-moral structure of the world in which he was raised’ (Urban 2006:122). I sympathize. Extremely.
Spiritual Fascination and Stimulus in My Youth. Do you know what I was given that perhaps you were not? A father who believed he was a spiritual being – a spirit that would live on after death had occurred. And do you know what? I am grateful for that, despite the many negative aspects I otherwise highlight regarding dogmatic religion and childhood indoctrination. I would not have wanted a father who daily insisted that death meant we became nothing more than dull soil from then on – and nothing else. My childhood Christian faith surely ignited a general spiritual interest within me. I was an obsessive reader of The Hardy Boys in my teens. I read around eighty books; sixty-eight remain in my possession. I loved those books – especially The Mystery of the Mummy and The Witchmaster’s Key. Those were the two greatest. I leafed through the latter not long ago, and I can tell you: it contains a wealth of material relevant to the study of religion. In my teens, I was also deeply fascinated by the media frenzy surrounding the church arsonist Varg Vikernes from my hometown Bergen. All the occult references. The shocking newspaper images filled with occult artifacts. I kept a green folder with a mysterious aesthetic, decorated with almost occult-inspired borders. In it, I collected every newspaper clipping about the arsonist from the local press. There is no doubt: throughout my entire life, I have been fascinated and intrigued by the sweet unknown.
My Father’s Last Words. On January 7, 1995, I lost my father. I was in high school at the time. So was the frontman of the rock band Metallica, James Hetfield, when he lost his mother. “With a belief that God would heal the body and shield them from being sick or injured, Hetfield’s mother refused treatment when she came down with cancer. This decision ultimately led to her untimely death while James was still in high school.” (Excerpt from an American online music magazine). Hetfield’s story is the same as mine. Shortly before my father passed away, my family and I sat by his hospital bed. Suddenly, my father took my hand, looked me straight in the eyes, and said: “You have to get me out of here, Frank Benjamin.” I do not know why he said it to me, or exactly what he meant. I have my theories. Regardless, those were the very last words he ever spoke to me in this life. I watched him die before my eyes. A powerful and vital man was reduced to something nearly unrecognizable. Because of God. And Jesus Christ. And my father’s faith in the two. Just a few years before my father died, James Hetfield wrote the song “The Unforgiven.” It deals with his strict Christian upbringing – the same straitjacket that ultimately led to the loss of his beloved mother.
The German Shepherd. I once had such a force of nature. Ben. He was like a little human in animal form – a being with a spectacular emotional range. I loved Ben.
I recall reading a historical work featuring a passage on the father of classical liberalism, John Locke. I found the author’s phrasing curious; he wrote that Locke insisted upon his political philosophy throughout his entire life – as if it were somewhat peculiar that he did not eventually ‘come to his senses.’ But Locke was simply incapable of betraying his intellect – or his soul. Just as I am incapable of betraying the architecture of Maksima – or my own soul.
Murray N. Rothbard | The libertarian theorist Murray N. Rothbard stands as the most significant intellectual influence in my life, alongside the political scientist Francis Fukuyama. During the 2010s, as I delved into some of Rothbard’s extensive writings, his reasoning and his elegant, clear-spoken style helped increase my internal strength. In 1962, Rothbard wrote an essay on H.L. Mencken titled “H.L. Mencken: The Joyous Libertarian.” In this piece, one passage in particular struck a chord within me: ‘He must, on the one hand, be an individualist with a serene and unquenchable sense of self-confidence; he must be supremely “inner-directed” with no inner shame or quaking at going against the judgment of the herd. He must, secondly, have a supreme zest for enjoying life and the spectacle it affords; he must be an individualist who cares deeply about liberty and individual excellence, but who can – from that same dedication to truth and liberty – enjoy and lampoon a society that has turned its back on the best that it can achieve.’ Rothbard was speaking of Mencken, but he was also defining the archetype of the sovereign individual. Who articulates this better than the incomparable Murray N. Rothbard?
When I began my studies in the early 2010s, I eventually came into contact with a long list of people one might call softcore and hardcore libertarians. They were spread all over the globe. What struck me was that I could roughly divide them into two groups: sports libertarians and those who, in Murray N. Rothbard’s words, “cared deeply about liberty.” One group was primarily concerned with freedom because it was intellectually stimulating to defend it theoretically – it was almost like a sport for them, I felt. Intricate “hooks” and mental ejaculations. The other group cared about freedom because they wanted it. To live it. None of the sports libertarians, as far as I can recall, were interested in “sucking the marrow out of life” (cf. Henry David Thoreau). The other group was exactly that. And they were the individuals who pressed the precursor to The Maksima Declaration to their chests. They had made their way behind all the veils they had been assigned from childhood. To me, it is fascinating how few there seem to be today who truly want to push themselves, push their freedom, explore life’s mysteries – open to all possibilities. At the same time, it is heartening that some exist. And Edward Alexander Crowley was probably right: it only takes a few to “usher in a new aeon” (cf. Hugh Urban). As a vanguard.
There are far more people than so-called “hardcore libertarians,” “libertarian-leaning” individuals, and those “within the framework of libertarianism” who accept the political premise and the political rationale – the justice point – of The Maksima Declaration. Yet they speak in “Rawlsian” terms – or with a focus on pragmatism. That time must end. A shift in mentality will inherently be gradual, and one must live with that, but what matters now is “zealous freedom.” And nothing else. In 2012, the philosopher and professor emeritus Gerard Casey published the book Libertarian Anarchy – Against the State. Setting aside his somewhat naive reasoning concerning a stateless society, there was something interesting about the book. He asked: Hey, look around you – isn’t there actually a great deal of “anarchy” in our everyday lives? People live their lives in so many different ways, interact with each other in so many creative ways, live closely with those nearest to them, and let others do the same. There’s a lot of “live and let live” around us, isn’t there? Two good questions from Casey. There are certain groups and currents of thought in the Western world that stand in the way of human freedom, but there is also a great deal of good to be found. Gold from the history of political ideas is definitely with us today. There is a great deal of personal freedom. My thinking is this: Let us, like Casey, rejoice that the “anarchy” of everyday life exists and that this is fertile ground for more and more people to develop a “zealous freedom” attitude.
I have mentioned the sports libertarians. I recall a discussion I once had with one of them. The focus: a waterhole. He was uncompromising in his view that no one could force any landowner in a given territory to do anything, nor take a waterhole from a landowner – the only water source in that territory – even if everyone else in the territory was dying of thirst. Period. In that conversation, I realized something crucial: Libertarian freedom cannot, in the final analysis, be about geometry and exact formulas. It must be about people in a territory wanting libertarian freedom because they passionately desire it. In extreme situations like the one described above, the concept of reasonableness must come into play – in the name of freedom. In such situations, reason and love of freedom must trump geometry. In order to preserve freedom, not least.
Murray N. Rothbard: “Behind the honeyed but patently absurd pleas for equality is a ruthless drive for placing themselves at the top of a new hierarchy of power.” Rothbard’s words hit like a sledgehammer. Others than those he speaks of use their Now to celebrate inequality, to keep to their own piece of land, to ruthlessly aim for the top in the sense of developing themselves to the maximum. And perhaps they get to experience timeless consciousness. And perhaps one day – after rebirth after rebirth – they will sit at the controls of their own physical universe. And along the way, they help the less fortunate with a glow that the power-seeking advocates of equality can never match. Why can’t they? Because they are nowhere near the take-off, the spark, and the radiance of the maximally happy individual. Find the best blanket in your home, and recite Maksima 5, Maksima 12, and Maksima 13. For: Maksima-freedom is warmth.
From the hardwood floor to digital domains. From sports arenas to digital platforms. From the conquest of physical space to the conquest of the mind. The Scandinavian futsal movement IFS was a campaign of physical expansion in the 2000s, driven by ideas. Tens of thousands of people participated in physical arenas across seven major Scandinavian cities. This conquest was tangible, visible, and concrete – a true Scandinavian expansion. Maksima is (primarily) a digital campaign of conquest. This expansion is abstract, yet profoundly real. It unfolds across digital platforms through philosophical depth. While IFS conquered the floor, Maksima aims for a global reach; here, the target of the conquest is the human mind.
Francis Fukuyama | Fukuyama’s blunder is that he forgot one archetype on his monumental journey through history.
Ayn Rand | The legendary freedom author Ayn Rand spearheaded the rise of a new human type with Howard Roark. Maksima does the same with the Maksima individual, and ultimately The Eros-Warrior. Speed bump people call it controversial. It is not. But perhaps it is uncomfortable. For them. Because it confirms, so thoroughly, that they chose wrong.
Pastor Dan White Jr. once stated: ‘When you live in Culture War Mode there is always a battle to fight, a side to take, and people to fear. When you live in God’s Kingdom there’s always a stranger to welcome, a neighbor to befriend, and an enemy to love.’ For me, it has long since ceased to be of interest what those who submit to a deity, for instance, might think about life. I exist at an entirely different stage of development. Their lives are neatly formulated and decided. If you seek maximum happiness at all times with your own will as the sole truth, I can promise you there will always be ‘a battle to fight’ and a ‘side to take.’ So be it. You do not compromise on the meaning of life. If the price of loving every minute is an eternal war against the mediocre, it is a price I pay with gusto. Max Stirner said: ‘Our atheists are pious people.’ Many believe they are free simply because they have cast the priest out of the house. Yet, one may still host a multitude of other ‘priests’ within – preventing one from pursuing one’s true maximum happiness.
One of the more pathetic things I see is all the discussion – or drivel, as I call it – about masculinity and femininity. I am here to shut down that debate. A “real” woman is an individual who is exactly who she wants to be – at all times. A “real” man is an individual who is exactly who he wants to be – at all times. And they probably both love The Maksima Declaration. In secret, at least. For now.
John Keating | Recently, I searched my life to see if I have ever known a person I would consider a mentor. There is no one. Of course, I have known inspiring people who have influenced me, but none come close to being a mentor. The closest I get is a fictional figure: John Keating from the movie Dead Poets Society written by Tom Schulman and directed by Peter Weir. The teacher at Welton Academy so wonderfully portrayed by Robin Williams. The man who imprinted upon his students the ideals of “Carpe Diem” and “Make your life extraordinary.” The film left a profound, life-altering impression on me, and I have returned to it countless times. But imagine having such a person in your life day in and day out, throughout your formative years, and in life in general. Where I grew up, the tone was quite different: “Remember, Frank Benjamin, you are but a grain of dust. God can simply blow on you, and your life is over.” That “reality check” was a recurring theme. It is a starkly different diet than the sermons delivered from the teacher’s desk at Welton. In his own school days, John Keating was known as a young man “most likely to do anything” – a “hellraiser,” as his students conclude. And it took someone like that to change the lives of those promising boys. Curriculum pages obviously had to be ripped out. A secret, entirely illicit freethinkers’ club naturally had to be recommended and sanctioned. Students certainly had to stand on the teacher’s desk with dirty soles. Timid young souls obviously had to be thrust into the uncomfortable through dramatic turns in front of the entire class. Fallacies had to be called what they were; “nonsense” wasn’t enough, “excrement” was the natural choice. If John Keating had not acted as he did, I fear the message of living in the moment and making one’s life extraordinary would have carried less weight. I am very mindful of this. Applied to Maksima: Seeing The Maksima Declaration in practice perhaps carries more impact than merely reading it.