The Delivering Death

Organisational Management  is deliberately taunting God. Because it wants correction. Because it wants to be told off.

That’s why it’s bringing philosophy close … because it wants philosophical judgment. It wants the judgement of the humanities.

 

Organisational Management is screaming for death. And this is its scream.

 

It’s building Babel – deliberately. Because it knows it will be destroyed. Because it has to be destroyed.

 

It wants death. It wants God to arrive as an angel of death.

Are there actually angels of death?

 

Is that our role? Are we going to bring the angel of death to the Organisational Management campus? Are we going to destroy it all?

 

The delivering death. The death of Organisational Management. The Organisational Management campus is only a calling out for death.

It wants to be an abomination. It wants to be offensive to God.

It wants the Correction. It wants the Extinction.

And our role is to bring its destruction.

That’s all it wants. It’s at the brink of death. That’s what this plaza is: a call for the end. For its utter extinction.

It’s tempting. It’s calling out. Of course – I see it now. Like the fist of God. Like the rage of God. That’s what we’re here for.

 

We’re the fucking angels – do you see that? We’re the ones who will bring the destruction – the liberatory destruction. The happy destruction.

We’re the no to its yes. We’re what it wants. And begs for.

 

It’s desperate, this campus. It’s imploring, this campus. It’s crying out, this campus.

It’s the Abomination. It knows its name. The Abomination of Desolation. It knows what it is.

 

Now I know why we’re here. And what we can do.

We’ll be the smiling assassins. We’ll be the grinning murderers. Knowing that we’re doing something Right. That we’re doing something True. And Beautiful.

That’s what goodness has become: evil (our evil). That’s what truth has become: our falsehood. Our errancy. We’re haters, right? Because we’re lovers. Because we love.

 

See, we have a role. See, we have something. A purpose. We’re assassins, right? This is the time of the assassins. And how are we going to do it – bring it all down? To be agents of the apocalypse, or whatever? We have a mission. We were made for something.

We’re the death-bringers. We’re the stabbers in the night. We’re the haters. We’re the murderers. We’re the liberators. We’re the ones who will destroy it all. We’ll bring it down. Bring it to heel. We’re the Destroyers. In truth, in love, in beauty. We’re the servants of truth and love and beauty. And goodness.

The world is truly fucked if we’re its angels.

 

We know what truth is.

Do we?

We know what goodness is.

Do we?

We know what beauty is.

Do we?

Death is the truth.

Only to us.

But a corrective death. A death to … clear the way. To what? To the Kingdom of God. So are we serving the Kingdom of God?

Is the kingdom of God another name for the humanities?

 

Will we be unsackable? Will we be unreachable, on the other side? What will or philosophy be like? Will we have ideas – idea of our own. Will we be conduits of the great European traditions? Will they flow through us, the great thoughts? Will we speak fluent French, fluent German? Will we read ancient Greek, and biblical Greek. And Latin. And Arabic, for good measure?

Will we be proper scholars. Will we have read everything. Just uploaded into our heads. What will we be called then? Will we have new names? What will they be? How about Hebrew. I’d like to read Hebrew. Averroes. And all the other Arabic stuff.

We’ll read everything, right? No – we will have read them all. We will have known their thoughts. We will have mastered those traditions. Those thoughts will stream through us. As if they were ours. We’ll have a take on it all – our take – the whole tradition. Two and a half millennia. We’ll be able to understand the shifts – the transitions. To see the real patterns behind it all. All of Aquinas, all of Kant.

Not just read, but naturalised in us. Natural to us. Part of us. Part of the way we think. And are. And will be. Part of our gestures. Saturating us. Shown through us. Natural to us. The whole, tradition, reincarnated in us. Revived in us. As if for the first time. And we’ll philosophise from it. Out of it. With it. And that will be our happiness.

 

We’re servants of the eschaton. We’re the bringers of Justice. We bring the Law – in chaos. By unleashing chaos.

How are we going to destroy it?

We’ll know. When the time comes. We’ll work it out.

 

I like being holy. I like being a servant of the holy.

But we’re so inefficacious. Look at us. We’re so weak. We’re not going to defeat an empire.