Jack Whiteside Parsons has enjoyed a bit of renewed notoriety lately both inside and outside the world of the occult. Thanks largely to various podcasts and the CBS streaming series Strange Angel, this rocket scientist turned Aleister Crowley disciple has went from being an obscure figure, known only to a handful of ceremonial magicians, to someone known, at least somewhat, by the general public. Given the fantastical qualities of Parson’s life, the biggest surprise is that it took this long for him to become better known. Readers unfamiliar with Jack Parsons are encouraged to check out one of the many podcast episodes about his life, or to read the biography Strange Angel, by George Pendle, which was the inspiration for the now cancelled TV series.  

For the diabolist, Parsons’ significance has as much to do with his philosophy and occult ideas as his larger than life story. His four-part essay “Freedom is a Two-Edged Sword” is recommended reading for Satanists of all stripes. His poem “Birth of Babalon” appears in adapted form in the Brethren of the Morningstar’s The Book of Infernal Prayer. While he remained a committed Thelemite in his own way until his premature death, Parson’s eventually became disillusioned with some of Crowley’s interpretations, emphases, and prescribed means of attainment. Jack Parsons left the OTO in the late 1940s, hoping to eventually establish a magical system of his own, stripped of all the claptrap that so often chokes older esoteric orders, which he referred to simply as The Witchcraft. His surviving writings make clear that The Witchcraft would aim to lift women and femininity to a place of equality, emphasize the exercise of personal liberty over the study of cabalistic minutiae, and openly embrace witchcraft’s satanic basis. Whether he consciously aware of Parson’s or not, in many ways this same spirit animated fellow Californian Anton LaVey’s own project of stripping magic of its smug hypocrisy as well as the detritus it had collected through the centuries. While the Wiccan and Wiccan-inspired witches of the 1960s onward have sought to cleave the term “witch” from any association with the Devil entirely, historically the word implied veneration of Satan as much as it did a worker of sorcery. Parson’s use of “witch,” much like LaVey would later, sought to reclaim this infernal heritage. 

Below is a short essay by Jack Parson’s simply and fittingly entitled “The Witchcraft.” It is a manifesto for his ideas toward this end. Because it is so hard to find this essay, even on the internet, I wanted to make it available here for diabolists to access. Consider it a call to arms for satanic witches and warlocks to lay claim to their power and place in the shadows once again. 

The Witchcraft

John Whiteside Parsons

WE ARE THE WITCHCRAFT. We are the oldest organization in the world. When man was born, we were. We sang the first cradle song. We healed the first wound, we comforted the first terror. We were the Guardians against the Darkness, the Helpers on the Left Hand Side. Rock drawings in the Pyrenees remember us, and little clay images, made for an old purpose when the world was new. Our hand was on the old stone circles, the monolith, the dolmen, and the druid oak. We sang the first hunting songs, we made the first crops to grow; when man stood naked before the Powers that made him, we sang the first chant of terror and wonder. We wooed among the Pyramids, watched Egypt rise and fall, ruled for a space in Chaldea and Babylon, the Magian Kings. We sat among the secret assemblies of Israel, and danced the wild and stately dances in the sacred groves of Greece.

In China and Yucatan, in Kansas and Kurdistan we are one. All organizations have known us, no organization is of us; when there is too much organization we depart. We are on the side of man, of life, and of the individual. Therefore we are against religion, morality and government. Therefore our name is Lucifer. We are on the side of freedom, of love, of joy and laughter and divine drunkenness. Therefore our name is Babalon.

Sometimes we move openly, sometimes in silence and in secret. Night and day are one to us, calm and storm, seasons and the cycles of man, all these things are one, for we are at the roots. Supplicant we stand before the Powers of Life and Death, and are heard of these Powers, and avail. Our way is the secret way, the unknown direction. Our way is the way of the serpent in the underbrush, our knowledge is in the eyes of goats and of women.

It is our own force that sometimes shifts jeweled coils and […] mighty pinions in the breast of man; our Power is one with the Power that causes the God to stir in the heart of the seed, and the bud to burst into blossom and fruit; and whenever a man and a woman are united in one substance, our power is that substance.

Merlin was of us, and Gawain and Arthur, Rabelais and Catullus, Gilles de Retz and Jehanne d’Arc, De Molensis, Johannes Dee, Cagliostro, Francis Hepburn and Gellis Duncan, Swinburne and Eliphas Levi, and many another bard, Magus, poet, martyr known and unknown that carried our banners against the enemy multiform and ubiquitous, the Church and the State. And when that vermin of Hell that is called the Christian Church held all the West in a slavery of sin and death and terror, we, and we alone, brought hope to the heart of man, despite the dungeon and the stake.

II.

We are the Witchcraft, and although one may not know another, yet we are united by an indissoluble bond. And when the high wild cry of the eagle sounds in your mind, know that you are not alone in your desire for freedom. And when the howl of the wolf echoes in the forests of your night, know that there are those who also prowl. And when the ways of your fellows about you seem the ways of idiocy and madness, know that there are also others who have seen and judged – and acted.

Now know that the power that we serve lies in the heart of every man and woman as the tree lives in the seed. And to be with us, you have but to call upon that Power, and you are as one of us. And when our Power and Joy have come upon you, you may go forth and do your will among men, and none shall say you nay. And if it be your will, you shall do your will secretly, and if it be your will, you will do your will openly, as your will.

Therefore lift up your hearts saying, “I am a man” or “I am a woman, and the Power of Life is mine!” And in the Power of Life you shall live and love, accepting no restriction and placing no restriction, freely and granting freedom. And it may be in the bounty of life you shall see the love of life shine in the eyes of another, and the lust of life burn upon his brow, and thus you shall take great joy together. And it may be in good fortune you may find a number such; and share your joy in secret feasting and rejoicing and all manner of lovemaking and festival. Or it may be that at hazard and danger you will teach the joyous power to men; as your wills move you.

And this is well so long as you remember one thing. There can be no restriction. The Power of Life is not restricted; it knows its own way, but no mind knows that way. Therefore in yourself practice all the giving and taking of freedom that is consistent with life, for thereby alone can you remain in our joy.

Pain is. Terror is, loss and loneliness and agony of heart and spirit, even unto Death. For this is the gateway to the kingdom of Pan.

Our way is not for all men. There are those who are so constricted and sick in themselves that the thought of their own freedom is a horror, and that of others a fierce pain; so that they would enslave all men. And these you should shun, or, if you must, destroy them as you will know how, for this also is bounty.

Nor think the life power should manifest in those who have no trouble or turmoil, for these may be mere dumb cattle, innocents out of season. Rather does the power often show the most where conflict rages, since at any time, and especially in a false civilization, the way must be won through. Surrender is disaster. The other side of the coin is a song in the sunlight and a dance in the moonlight, where all mists are dispersed. But the way must be won.