The Historic Cycle and Man's Descent

By MatTehCat | The Cat's Mewsings | 19 May 2023

Sometimes it feels as if we are moving in circles because we are.


Humanity and its civilizations are bound by an extraordinary dance of cycles. Within the depths of Julius Evola's magnum opus, "Revolt Against the Modern World," lies an enthralling exploration of the ebb and flow, the rise and fall of our collective history. As I endeavor to extricate myself from the currents of this era, I am confronted with the challenge of absorbing and embracing Evola's captivating perspective. However, amidst this intellectual pursuit, I uncover a treasure trove of insights concealed within his captivating notion of historical involution.


Evola's historical analysis delineates four ages: the Golden Age, Silver Age, Bronze Age, and Iron Age. Each age possesses a distinct character and emerges or declines from the previous one. Presently, we find ourselves entrenched in the formidable grasp of the Iron Age, a period defined by its somber attributes. The Golden Age can be described as an epoch of gods, marked by their eventual twilight and detachment from the mortal realm. Following that is the Silver Age, a priestly era characterized by asceticism, which witnesses a decline marked by an Aphrodistic essence. Moreover, the Bronze Age emerges as a time of violent upheaval against the lunar or solar deities, with its fall taking on a distinctly Dionysian nature. Both the Bronze and Silver Ages pave the way for the emergence of the Iron Age, known for its unmistakably demonic essence (p. 229).


Julius Evola introduces an extraordinary and thought-provoking historical conception when it comes to the origin of these ages. His beliefs take a rather striking form as he embraces the existence of the enigmatic Atlantic and Hyperborean Civilizations. Delving into this portion of “Revolt Against the Modern World,” I found myself captivated by Evola's wholehearted acceptance of westward, eastward, and northward migrations from the Atlantic and Hyperborean realms, respectively. While I personally interpret these migrations as powerful symbols representing historical events woven into the tapestry of human mythology, Evola fearlessly investigates these notions as concrete truths. As I navigate the intricate tapestry of his ideas, a remarkable notion emerges—a concept of "historical transposition," portraying the transmission of knowledge and progress from advanced civilizations to those deemed less developed (p. 202). Despite my reservations regarding the veracity of Evola's historical claims, what truly astounds me is the recurring occurrence of striking similarities across cultures that seemingly had no contact. Evola, in his quest for understanding, endeavors to unravel these shared threads by proposing a daring notion—a common genesis embodied by the Hyperborean or Atlantean Civilizations.


Intriguingly, Evola's keen observations unearth an astonishing tapestry of migration, where mythical civilizations dare to venture into the vast unknown, forging paths in diverse directions. Their relentless journey takes them Eastward, Westward, and Southward, ultimately intertwining their destinies with fabled lands like Greece, Rome, Iran, and India. Yet, the tapestry becomes even more bewitching as the Eastward and Westward expansions unveil captivating narratives, entwining the realms of Egypt and Meso-America. Here, the threads of Hyperborean civilization weave seamlessly, fueled by the enigmatic forces of Southward migration. Within this grand tapestry, it becomes abundantly clear that these ambitious odysseys, particularly those stretching from West to East, and delving into the enigmatic depths of the Southern realms, act as catalysts, giving birth to potent and mysterious chthonic forces (p. 208).


Delving deeper into the tapestry of ancient civilizations, we encounter a mesmerizing duality within the Southern and Northern realms. This dance of inclinations unfolds, with the Northern civilizations irresistibly drawn towards the majestic Heroic Cycle. Their spirit brims with tales of valor and triumph. In stark contrast, the Southern civilizations succumb to the seductive allure of Lunar and Telluric cults, exuding hedonic pleasures and untamed violence. Within these realms, the lunar civilizations emerge as embodiments of femininity intertwined with demonic energy, while the telluric civilizations emerge as titanic powerhouses, drenched in a Luciferian essence. It is within this intricate dance of light and shadow, where demonic forces converge, shaping the very fabric of their existence. Such is the allure and enigma that permeates these ancient realms, forever entwined in the shadowy embrace of the mysterious (p. 208).


Nevertheless, Evola consistently identifies a deeply ingrained pattern in which migrations and the intermingling of peoples bring about a transformation from one type of civilization to another, reshaping the very foundation upon which these societies revolve. Typically, the transition occurs from Father or Heroic cultures to Mother or Lunar cultures, marking the shift from a Golden to a Silver age. Interestingly, the Mother civilizations exhibit peculiar characteristics, displaying a disconcerting blend of violence, promiscuity, and an almost bestial nature (p. 214-217). As time progresses, the deteriorating attributes inherent in these hedonic and effeminate cultures eventually lead to their downfall. Evola staunchly argues that the fundamental pillar of human societies must be rooted in fides and the transcendent realm. The Golden or Heroic societies epitomize the essence of a loyal and spiritually resilient society. However, as these Golden societies expand, a twilight of heroism emerges. This twilight is, in part, brought about by the encroachment of an effeminate force that corrupts the fides or spiritual core of the heroic society. Gradually, the heroic twilight gives way to a lunar or silver age, where matriarchal or gynocratic societies assume dominance. However, I contemplate an alternative perspective—one that delves into materialistic causes for this spiritual decline. What if the scarcity of heroic figures in these societies resulted from their demise due to their expansionist or heroic tendencies, leaving behind only the more effeminate priestly class? In other words, could it be that the hero's audacious behavior and disdain for the illusory trappings of the world led to the triumph of an effeminate race over their own? While I anticipate that Evola would regard these materialistic inquiries with disdain, they do offer an alternative explanation that maintains the possibility that the loss of these valiant men undermined the spiritual essence of the more masculine and solar civilizations.


The civilizations that lean towards the more demonic, telluric, chthonic, lunar, or feminine aspects exhibit a profound connection to the natural world. Their artistic expressions beautifully capture the essence of organicity, fluidity, and dynamism. In contrast, the aesthetic of solar civilizations, exemplified by the early Roman and Greek styles, manifests in solid, absolute, mathematically rigid, and symmetrical forms. A compelling example of this stark contrast lies in the comparison between the Doric column and the Corinthian or Ionic columns. The intricate and flowing designs of the latter two undeniably symbolize a cultural decline within Greek civilization. Evola discerns these cultures as degenerated, attributing their condition to an entanglement with the material realm. Their inclination towards the world is manifested through their dynamic, demonic, and effeminate aesthetics, but paradoxically, this attachment becomes a snare. It signifies their longing for comfort, the embrace of a nurturing mother figure, and their volatile emotional disposition. Within this intricate interplay of aesthetics and cultural dynamics, a deeper understanding of the human experience and the entwined complexities of spirituality and artistry begins to unfold.


For Evola, the Romans epitomized the zenith of Solar expression. His writings unmistakably reveal his admiration for the ancient Roman way of life. Evola firmly embraces the "miraculous" emergence of Roman civilization on the Peninsula, holding it in higher regard than any other historical or sociological explanation, which he deems unsatisfactory. According to Evola, the Romans embodied the masculine, Solar qualities that he perceived as lacking in the Greeks. Notably, they outlawed Aphrodistic and Bacchic cults, including the Bacchanalia, and viewed the Mystery Cults of the East with suspicion, considering them "unhealthy." Furthermore, if any telluric or demonic cults had a detrimental influence on their social or virile lifestyle, the Romans would not tolerate them (p. 276). The Romans also exhibited a dislike for philosophers, whose skepticism, in Evola's view, directly contributed to the erosion of the spiritual and transcendent traditions that uphold healthy societies. Specifically, they held a distaste for the Pythagoreans, whose influence Evola asserts was "Demetrian," representing lunar, feminine, chthonic, and decadent qualities. What captivates the mind is that Evola does not perceive the rise of the Caesars as a mere expansion of the state, which could easily be seen as an expansion of telluric and demonic forces. Instead, he views it as a natural outcome of the solar, "Aryan-Western" essence of Roman civilization. Regarding this perspective, I am inclined to favor de Jouvenel's analysis, which cogently portrays the ascent of the Caesars and Roman emperors as symptomatic of the empire's mounting decadence and impending collapse.


Evola perceives the advent of Christianity as a challenge for the Romans. He vividly portrays the backdrop against which the early Christians found themselves in Roman society:


"The Emperor was just a ray of light shining in the middle of a dark night of forces, passions, murders, cruelties, and betrayals that assumed epidemic proportions. With the passing of time, this background became increasingly tragic, bloody, and fragmentary, despite the sporadic appearance of harsh leaders who were able to command obedience and respect in a world that was weak and falling apart. Eventually, a point was reached when the imperial function existed only nominally; Rome remained faithful to it almost desperately, in a world lacerated by dreadful upheavals. And yet, the throne was vacant, so to speak. The subversive influence of Christianity added its weight to all of this" (p. 279).


However, upon closer examination of Evola's analysis in the preceding paragraph, I identify a discrepancy in his reasoning. He presents two possibilities: the rise of Christianity either being a symptom of Rome's problems or directly contributed to their exacerbation. Yet, when considering the works of Burnham and de Jouvenel, it becomes evident that Rome's decline predates the ascent of Christianity. During the era of the emperors, Rome transformed into a managerialist state, adopting a statist mindset and granting the Emperor supreme authority in society. The division of the empire, particularly in the Eastern Empire, further solidified its fate as the state released slaves and granted Roman status to anyone to extract tax revenue. Consequently, Rome lost its capacity for the creative pursuits it once embraced. Bureaucratic administrators prioritized personal enrichment over the welfare of the Empire, leading to a gradual erosion of wealth and the subsequent rise of Feudalism. While it is true that Christianity's universalist tendencies found some validation in the late Roman Empire, it is the self-interested nature of Rome's managerialists that emerges as a more plausible cause of its decline. This perspective, though leaning more towards materialistic factors than Evola's analysis, provides – I think -- a more compelling explanation when compared to his polemic against the influence of Christianity on Roman society.


With that being said, Early Christian tendencies, as described by Evola, would have posed spiritual challenges for the Romans. Evola contends that the Christians represented a Prophetic Branch of the Jews, and his intriguing understanding of Jewish culture is relevant to this discussion.


"In ancient Judaism, we can observe a conspicuous effort by a priestly elite to unify and consolidate a diverse and turbulent ethnic community. They achieved this by establishing the divine Law as the basis of their 'form' and using it as a substitute for the shared fatherland and common origins, which other societies possessed. This formative action, rooted in sacred and ritualistic values and preserved from the earliest versions of the ancient Torah to the elaboration of the Talmuds, gave rise to the Jewish identity as a spiritual rather than a physical race. However, the original substratum was never entirely eradicated, as ancient Jewish history reveals through recurrent instances of betrayals of God and subsequent reconciliations with Israel. This dualism and the resulting tension help explain the negative manifestations that Judaism assumed in later times." (pp. 241-242).


Evola perceives the Jewish spirit as essentially chthonic and telluric, which is why it associated Shoel with the afterlife. What Evola seems to convey is that the Jewish identity is conflicted within itself. In a sense, since Adam's fall, the Jews have lacked a stable identity – their essence is defined by being marked by the original sin of the first Man. Regardless of their efforts, they are unable to "realize the values typical of the sacred and transcendent" (p. 242). This constant struggle causes their identity to remain in a state of dynamic flux.


"It is essential to highlight a pivotal moment in the development of ancient Jewish spirit. During the aforementioned period of crisis, there was a loss of purity and vitality within the ancient cult of Jehovah and the figure of the warrior Messiah. Jeremiah and Isaiah were among the early voices of a rebellious spirituality that condemned and disdained the hierarchical and ritualistic elements. This was the essence of Hebrew 'prophetism,' which originally displayed traits similar to the cults of lower castes and the pandemic and ecstatic practices of Southern races. The figure of the 'seer' (roeh) was supplanted by one who was consumed by the spirit of God. Other characteristics of prophetism included the pathos of the 'servants of the Eternal,' which replaced the proud and zealous self-confidence of being 'God's people,' and an ambiguous mysticism infused with apocalyptic undertones... The Jewish Diaspora, or the scattering of the Jewish people, was a consequence of the spiritual dissolution of a cycle that lacked a 'heroic' restoration and instead promoted processes of an antitraditional nature." (p. 243).


The historical narrative unveils a striking portrayal of the Jewish people at the time of their subjugation by the Romans, wherein their spirit of rebellion manifested prominently, albeit without the ability to construct a moral framework conducive to the development of a spiritual and ritualistic path defined by "fides." The encounter between this distinctive disposition and the Roman civilization, which diligently upheld its solar character through meticulously preserved traditions and rituals, precipitated a seismic disruption due to the rapid propagation of Early Christian faith across the vast expanse of the Roman world. In the face of a deep dilemma, the Christian community found themselves torn between expressing loyalty to Rome through participation in its rites or prioritizing their unwavering commitment to God—an unwelcome choice that the Romans interpreted as a disloyalty to the Emperor, tantamount to opportunistic freeloading. Remarkably, the Christians embraced the latter option, facing the consequences and enduring punishment for their unwavering convictions (p. 284).


Evola compellingly asserts that the Christians deftly transformed their punishments into catalysts for spreading their practices and an ideology that challenged established traditions, thereby destabilizing the very spiritual fabric that bound the expansive Roman Empire together. In the wake of this Christian movement, the Romans found themselves grappling with the pernicious influence of a decadent managerial class that systematically drained finite resources while eroding the Empire's spiritual core. The arrival of a lunar and telluric cult only exacerbated matters, plunging the Empire into a tumultuous state of chaos and uncertainty (pp. 285-286).


This intricate portrayal of historical events underscores the impact of the Jewish people's rebellious spirit, the momentous clash between Roman civilization and Early Christianity, and the subsequent ramifications that reverberated throughout the Roman Empire. Evola's thought-provoking analysis invites us to reevaluate the intricate web of causality and repercussions, emphasizing the historical forces at play and their significant contributions to the grand tapestry of human civilization.

Evola astutely observes that the cycle of spiritual dynamics continues into the Middle Ages, shedding light on the intricate interplay between different belief systems. During this era, the Catholic Church served as the epicenter of a lunar cult that had become intertwined with politics, exerting significant influence as a unifying force in European civilization. Simultaneously, the Northern Odinic cults embodied the remnants of the Golden Age cults, stemming from a warrior class that had long resisted the lunar society established in Rome. This clash between the Ghibellines, representative of the Golden cult, and the Guelphs, representative of the Silver cult, served as a spiritual conflict that reverberated through Europe.


Evola convincingly argues that, despite the pervasive influence of Christianity in Europe, the continent retained a deeply rooted pagan core. The Catholic Church's successful conversion efforts did not eradicate these underlying pagan beliefs, as syncretic practices allowed for the coexistence of pagan elements masked as Christian traditions. It is in this nuanced spiritual landscape that the figure of the Ghibelline Emperor emerges, embodying the Northern pagan tradition and symbolizing Europe's primordial roots (pp. 292-294).


By highlighting the perpetual conflict between the Guelphs and the Ghibellines, Evola emphasizes their vital role in preserving the European core. These opposing forces, each representing distinct spiritual currents, ensured the continuity of Europe's collective identity (p. 301). However, the ascendancy of the Guelphs, coinciding with the gradual transfer of power from the aristocracy to the merchant class, marked a critical turning point. It was during this period that the potential downfall of Europe loomed ominously.


While history often hails the Renaissance as a period of great intellectual and artistic flourishing, Evola compellingly challenges this perspective. He posits that the rise of the Guelphs, coupled with the subsequent societal shifts, actually marked a spiritual decline for Europe. The Renaissance, rather than a true ascent, represented a departure from the deeper spiritual essence that had sustained the continent. Evola's thought-provoking analysis calls for a reassessment of our understanding of this pivotal epoch in European history.


Through his thoughtfully constructed argument, Evola elucidates the complex spiritual forces at play during the Middle Ages and the subsequent Renaissance. By shedding light on the tension between the lunar and the pagan, the Ghibellines and the Guelphs, he compellingly conveys the profound impact of these dynamics on the trajectory of European civilization. His perspective invites us to delve deeper into the intricate tapestry of history and contemplate the underlying spiritual currents that shape the destiny of societies.


Evola attributes the humanistic qualities of the Renaissance to the emergence of an unrealism that permeates contemporary Western thought, coupled with an unwavering preoccupation with rationalism—an idea that Foucault, in my opinion, skillfully critiqued in his comprehensive body of work. The merging of these two forces, resulting from the rise of the merchant class, facilitated the rapid dissemination of an aesthetic of becoming—an influential concept with underlying demonic undertones—throughout European society. As a consequence, society has become fragmented, insular, and specialized, with the acquired knowledge appearing to lack any ritualistic, spiritual, or ethical purpose. Evola suggests that the Protestant Reformation played a partial role in this transformative process. At its core, the Reformation embodied an inherent rebellion against the traditional mode that allowed the weakened Church to retain fragments of its authority. Ironically, since the Church utilized telluric forces to overthrow monarchs, the Protestant movement, fueled by the telluric and demonic spirit of the masses, ultimately undermined the religious and spiritual power of the Church itself. This tendency, I believe, can be observed among contemporary liberals who, reluctant to acknowledge the consequences of employing subversive forces to dismantle the traditional institutions they found stifling, now find themselves facing the repercussions of their actions (p. 321-323). It is a striking illustration of how the revolution consistently devours its own.


Evola's discernment of two distinct forms of mass collectivization, namely the United States and the Soviet Union, provides captivating insights into societal dynamics. His analysis of the Soviet Collective is particularly compelling, shedding light on the radical nationalization and rationalization that effectively control and coordinate the masses under the iron grip of the Managerialists in Russia (p. 356). In contrast, Evola posits that the United States embodies a spontaneous expression of humanity, embracing its identity and aspiring to attain health, freedom, and strength. He suggests that while the United States shares certain resemblances to communism, it lacks the fanatical and fatalistic dedication observed in the Slavic culture. Notably, Evola astutely observes a shared obsession with work in both societies, a concept that traditionalists wholeheartedly disdain. The relentless pursuit of enhancing human utility and productivity, the quest for efficiency, monetary gains, and investments in convenience dominate the American and Soviet mindsets. The consequences of neglecting work are dire, as they can result in destitution, homelessness, or being surpassed and militarily dominated by more adept competitors. This starkly contrasts the American and Russian modes with the Traditionalist mode, portraying them as distinctly telluric, demonic, effeminate, and rebellious. Evola argues that the ruling classes, whom I view as the managerialists, resort to these coercive measures to maintain the masses in a state of subjugation and compliance.


The conclusion derived from Evola's insightful historical analysis of the descent of humanity from higher forms of civilization to lower ones is undeniably sobering. It becomes evident that he does not find much merit in advocating for a return to the Christian religion. He argues that if Christianity or Catholicism could not unify the entirety of Europe at its peak, it seems implausible for it to achieve such unity in the present state of Europe or the Western world, marked by deterioration, collectivism, and malevolence. Furthermore, the once sacred pagan rites, initiatory processes, and sacrifices have been stripped of their essence. Many of these religious and spiritual practices now bear only symbolic significance, devoid of their transcendent power to unite mankind with the divine. The illusory nature of these practices serves as a reflection of the predicament faced by modern society. Drawing a parallel to Luther's views, Evola posits that contemporary individuals have eroded their traditional foundations, leaving behind a mere facade that upholds civilization.


Evola disregards the significance of work. Contemplating this aspect of his text, I couldn't help but ponder: How should we define the endeavors of humanity if not as work? Granted, ethical work could be reconceptualized as "spiritual self-care and development," and labor, even with advancements in technology, could be redefined as craftwork or craftsmanship—a deliberate pursuit aimed at connecting individuals with their physical and spiritual roots. However, I retain reservations about these labels. The notion of "work" encompasses a wide range of meanings. If we were to designate the technical pursuits we engage in to enhance our lives aesthetically and spiritually as craftworks, would we not be obfuscating the truth? Are we not merely masking our tendency to gravitate toward the symbolic rather than the transcendent? As society spirals into decline, all aspects of a thriving community undergo a marked deterioration due to the pervasive decay that infiltrates its institutions (p. 330-332). Our labors and how we classify them are merely an extension of the pervasive rot plaguing society.


Initiation practices have fallen into disuse as well. Where once these rites held profound significance for the individuals undergoing them, they are now driven by the pursuit of wealth, social status, and power over one's peers. The ethical value of initiation has been degraded to a mere means of acquiring material gain or superficial symbols of achievement. Any semblance of spiritual or transcendent significance is merely a façade concealing the emptiness within. Although these practices may be portrayed as spiritually meaningful or transformative, those who undergo them often discover that they have not experienced true transformation or exerted personal authority to change themselves and the world. Instead, they are left with trinkets that signify their usefulness to their fellow human beings, who themselves are incapable of self-sufficiency. The cycle of "work" never ceases. In modern initiatory rites, at best, individuals are further assimilated into the collective mass.


So, what is Modern Man to do in the face of the prevailing dark age, the Kali Yuga? Evola perceives the current era as distinctly different from the Medieval Era, despite its inherent cruelty and brutality. The grip of the Dark Age has encompassed the world, leaving little room for hope. However, there is a starting point for Man—himself. He can acknowledge that civilizations undergo cyclical patterns. While I personally find the notion of Atlantean or Hyperborean civilizations far-fetched, Evola's message remains clear: Man possesses an inherent nature that endures through cycles of civilizational collapse, which may superficially appear as progress but only serve to amplify the prevalence of the lowest qualities of humanity. This is the core concept of Evola's theory of involution. He rejects the idea of Evolution because it allows Man to mask his material and technological decline behind a narrative of progress, growth, and perpetual development. In reality, the opposite is true. Biologically and evolutionarily speaking, Man does not inherently progress toward a particular mode. He either adapts to his environment or he does not. Modern Man, failing to recognize this reality and embracing a theory that justifies his descent as progress and development, further entrenches himself in the degraded state he presently finds himself in. In this way, Evola is correct to criticize Modern Man’s obsession with the evolutionary framework. Still, once Man acknowledges the cyclic nature of civilizations, he can begin to grasp what he truly strives for, and it is undoubtedly not the modern, rationalistic (in the sense of self-contained and individualized logic), unrealistic, and universalist world propagated by liberals.


The man who recognizes this predicament should strive for a world that offers stability amidst the turmoil. According to ancient texts, the Kali Yuga symbolizes an era of profound suffering in human existence. However, a man of virtuous character, nurtured through ethical development, possesses the ability to navigate and withstand this age, emerging even stronger. It is crucial for him not to expect the world to conform to his desires but rather to cultivate within himself the world he envisions. By fostering his inner Shamballa, Atlantis, and Hyperborea, he shapes his character and creates a shield against the detrimental impacts of the Kali Yuga within his personal domain and family, thereby ensuring the perpetuation of his legacy.


To a great extent, achieving this requires the traditional man to continuously seek ways to detach himself from the realm of constant change and illusory pursuits in which he finds himself immersed. Evola argues, and I agree, that this task is exceedingly arduous. However, it is of paramount importance that we discover means to distinguish ourselves from the modern world and safeguard our inner being, even if it necessitates deconstructing its ideologies or skillfully navigating its currents. Simultaneously, we should cultivate a reliance on those aspects of life that facilitate our spiritual transcendence. It is essential to establish deep connections with our families, acknowledging their profound significance in our lives and recognizing them as a vital source of existential support. They can serve as a model for the kind of world we aspire to inhabit, or in cases where this is not feasible, as a stark reminder of the world we must avoid.


Evola provides us with a profound understanding of the traditional mode of existence and portrays the historical cycles of civilizations as they undergo devolution. This represents his primary historical contribution, in my opinion. There are numerous valuable lessons to be gleaned from Evola's work, and I have only scratched the surface due to time constraints. Reading Evola's "Revolt Against the Modern World" has been truly enjoyable, despite finding some of its claims peculiar. I found the first half of the book far more captivating than the second half, which occasionally meanders and veers off into tangents that detract from Evola's overarching message. Nonetheless, this book should be a staple on every traditionalist's bookshelf, serving as a foundation for constructing a comprehensive worldview that empowers individuals to navigate the pitfalls and scandals presented by the illusory, degenerate, and decaying modern world. While the triumph of the traditionalist flame is not guaranteed, with diligent care, there remains the possibility of its endurance. Through Evola's work, traditionalists can gain a better understanding of what this entails - a realization I can personally affirm.







Bibliography and Suggested Readings:


Burnham, James. What is Happening in the World: The Managerial Revolution. Lume Books, 1941.


Burnham, James. Suicide of the West: An Essay on the Meaning and Destiny of Liberalism. Encounter Books, 1964.


Evola, Julius. Revolt Against the Modern World. Translated by Guido Stucco, with an introduction by H. T. Hansen. Inner Traditions International, 1995.


Foucault, Michel. Michele Foucault: Ethics, Subjectivity, and Truth. Translated by Paul Rabinow. Editions Gallimard, 1997.


Foucault, Michel, and Faubion J.D. (editor). Michel Foucault: Power. Edition Gallimard, 1994.



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