PAUS DOS REIS, Frederik Maximiliano - Pro Patria ― the Christian Conservatives
Account Name: Filimons (aka Juniklub)
Occupation: Senator, historian, writer, and university lecturer
Party Position(s):Party LeaderPositions in Government:N/AConstituency: Christiania - Ansgar
Political Ideology: National conservatism, monarchism, Fernãoense nationalism (European), and Catholic corporatismFamily: Frederik Maximiliano Paus dos Reis wed Alberte Nielsen-Aaen (b. 10 July 1993, Melbourne) on 3 November 2012; they have two sons: Hans Álvaro (b. 1 September 2013, Pamplona) and Gustav Adolfo (b. 26 December 2016, Fortaleza). His mother, Marcela Heloísa Prats (b. 3 February 1959, São Nicolau de Mira), and sole brother, Lars Danilo Paus dos Reis (b. 9 May 1979), have passed away; his father, Harald Conrado Paus dos Reis (b. 17 November 1949, Christiania), has not. He belongs to a distinguished Dano-Iberian family in Fernão.
Background: Frederik Maximiliano Prats Paus dos Reis (b. 25 August 1985, Christiania) is a Fernãoense historian, writer, lecturer, and politician of convictions deemed unfashionable and inadmissible in polite society. These, it is said, he inherits from his similarly eccentric father, Harald Conrado Holm Paus dos Reis, the scion of an old coffee-planting and timber-trading family, who, seized by the intoxicating cocktail of virulent anti-communist fervour and the preoccupations of the crise de la quarantaine, became the chief benefactor of infamous anti-communist militias active during the prolonged Fernãoense Civil War. His mother cancelled out this fervour. Hailing from a family of upper-middle class Valencian immigrants and parvenus of Portuguese colonial stock, Marcela Heloísa Castelo Branco Prats remained entirely detached from the political and martial realms; the cult of domesticity, now dismissed, appeared to prevail with her.
His family having stunningly escaped the declaration of the Marxist-sponsored First Republic with only three or four expropriations, and having benefited immensely from the ‘market restoration’ of the 1982 CIA-backed coup d’état, Paus dos Reis was born amidst undoubted affluence, which allowed for an immaculate education and a life of considerable comfort; as with all preceding generations of his highborn clan in Fernão, the ‘tastefully sumptuous’ grounds of Christiania’s Nyherresta (based off the Count of Paus’ Mariefred estate) housed his family, whilst two or three tutors of foreign extraction over-prepared him ― in history, Greek, or biology ― for guaranteed admission to St Christopher’s College, the elsewhere unknown Fernãoense response to the public schools of the United Kingdom. But, as his father would come to lament, the delicate manœuvres that preceded the child’s birth, along with the ‘investments’ in St Christopher’s infrastructure made over the course of several years, would be of no use; the clatter and rattle of 1994 would send Marcela Heloísa and the children to Europe ― first to Spain and then Switzerland ― whilst the family patriarch remained to protect, as he said, the ‘tracts of his fathers’.
At 13, Frederik Maximiliano would come to study at Aiglon College, in Vaud, where he was an Alpina boarder, became a Santayanan ‘æsthetic Catholic’, and was frequently deserving of inconsequential warnings for wandering into Lausanne without his houseparent’s permission. In spite of his mother’s prompt abandonment of Lake Geneva for the familiar landscapes of her native land, these years were pleasant for the adolescent Frederik, who did not resent the meticulous synchronisation of a boarder’s life or, indeed, the hours upon hours of forced sport and excursions; the regular visits of his older brother, Lars Danilo, who was by now studying at St Andrews, in Scotland, prevented the most pronounced effects of homesickness and loneliness, although his father, entirely consumed by the Civil War and business dealings, did not visit his son for years at a time.
School leaving qualification in hand, Frederik returned to his country at 17, finding it, as an email written to his brother reveals, ‘hot, picturesque, and ideal for a Gentile Bellini, but far too removed from my world: the mother country’. A personal crisis ensued; without plans or a need for them, he sought to join a militia, but upon presenting identity documents, the sight of their financial guardian’s surname forced a rejection from all ideologically compatible combatants. He then approached the fellows at Fortaleza’s Spanish embassy and enquired as to his eligibility for military service; embassy secretaries found this question odd, but replied that, as Frederik carried a Spanish passport (let us not forget that his mother was born to a Valencian father), he was free to apply. Convinced by his father of the evanescent motivation behind his martial inclinations, a sabbatical would suffice to guide him into university.
It was soon decided that Paus dos Reis would complete his undergraduate degree in England, and the choice was then further restricted to Oxbridge, which would provide at least a modicum of protection from the vampiric, noxious characteristics of metropolitan life in London. Philosophy, Politics, and Economics was discarded, along with Oxford in its entirety; Cambridge’s Classical Tripos, although seriously considered, was not to be chosen, leaving the Fernãoense heir to a great fortune with one conclusive choice: Social and Political Sciences at Gonville and Caius College. Here, a ferocious, albeit discreet, period of study and writing followed; his political convictions, which had been vaguely formed as an Alpina boarder at Aiglon, were only reaffirmed, for they gained a sturdy foundation on which to stand. He became particularly attached to forgotten figures, like Gómez Dávila, Sardà i Salvany, and Müller von Nitterdorf; indeed, he corresponded and forged an odd friendship with Álvaro d’Ors, who pressed him to study both Carl Schmitt and Roman law, but the two did not meet in time for d’Ors’ death in 2004.
Frederik’s time at Cambridge came to its end at 21, in 2006; but he left satisfied despite only just obtaining first-class honours, which greatly pleased his father, who had come to believe (not entirely without reason, it must be admitted) that his son would attain the habitual rank of the decadent heir. Incorporation into the family business was contemplated, but Frederik had no particular interest in supervising the letting of a vast agricultural expanse from the Malagasy government or residing on an industrial farm in Fernão, where the war showed no signs of vomiting a peace settlement, but economic activity continued; and his father, now firmly convinced of his son’s lack of commercial ambition, encouraged a master’s degree so as to keep Frederik, the æsthete and June Club revolutionary, away from the inexcusable stupidity of joining a militia. A year of a Political Economy MA at King’s College London passed ingloriously, and the boy who had arrived in Europe a nine-year-old returned to his country a bearded man.
In Fernão, the dry business of overseeing the planting of coffee and dealing with precious woods greatly bored him; but Frederik, having retained his soldierly fixation, opted in favour of wearing the uniform of the undescriptively named Regulatory Forces, to which his father ― himself a benefactor ― only reluctantly consented. The front was remarkably calm, allowing for the ostensibly heroic period of service to be spent with solider-made liquor and books; skirmishes were not entirely out of the common, but the glory-seeking experiment was, for the most part, awfully dull. It was at this time that he contributed to several Western publications ― chiefly Berlingske, Diário de Notícias, and the Spectator ― where he enjoyed being revered as an ‘Indian Ocean expert’ in spite of his being no such thing.
The morbid obsession with war, though never completely overcome, was softened; in time, Frederik was back to civilian life, but his father had not charged him with any of the familiar business duties, leading to a life of wantonness and slovenliness fitting for tumbling families of the colonial patriciate. Masquerading as business trips, entire seasons were spent in Goa and Bali, where exotic waters washed the intoxicated, vitiated bodies of cash-strapped Germans and unusually aggressive Australians. This represented no important cost to the family, and it had no financial repercussions of note; but the period would end abruptly with the deaths of his mother and Lars Danilo in the 2010 Grande Hotel Fortaleza bombing, where they succumbed whilst dining and providing succour to the injured, respectively.
Half-orphaned and without a brother, the dormant æsthetic Catholicism returned with particular fervour; it was no longer a matter of Agatha Christie letters or fascination with the Tridentine Mass. At one time suspected by his mourning father of having descended into madness, he began harbouring drunken fantasies of vengeance and becoming a warrior monk, but came to the conclusion that only through time attending to other affairs ― family business and writing ― could he improve his pitiful condition. His funerary stanzas remained unpublished, replaced instead with an inordinate devotion to timberlands and coffee shipments. Vigorous labour began on a complete history of Fernão from the times of the Portuguese conquest, and he took up a lecturing post at the Pontifical Athenæum, São Nicolau de Mira.
In 2011, the first two volumes of the History of Fernão appeared in Lisbon and Copenhagen, where they were discreetly celebrated in particularly conservative circles. The following year, the English-language version appeared, attracting only controversy. Paus dos Reis, the fervently Catholic defender of a system misunderstood in Europe and North America, could not be fêted, although the virulent condemnation of the tome, along Frederik’s militia service and personal loss to the terrorists, served to attract colonial white sympathisers in Fernão; indeed, these sympathisers were very pleased with the subsequent publication of two works in that same year: the Southern Harlequinade, a novel, and a portion of his Indic Cantos. Shortly thereafter, he married Alberte Nielsen-Aaen, the 19-year-old daughter of Melbourne-based Danish-Fernãoenses, in Christiania.
The couple briefly moved to Pamplona in the second half of 2013 to allow Frederik to give a series of lectures on the Civil War in Fernão at the University of Navarra, and their first child, Hans Álvaro, was born there on 1 September 2013. Their second child, Gustav Adolfo, was born on 26 December 2016 in Fortaleza, where the family had come to live in view of Paus dos Reis’ involvement in the UN-brokered peace negotiations as a Christian delegate and his subsequent interest in post-agreement parliamentary politics. Alberte has recently been diagnosed with cardiac issues, and Paus dos Reis is currently involved in a paternity scandal, although he denies knowing the woman and has requested tests be conducted.
Faith: Roman Catholicism
Likes: Christianity, Europeans, social conservatism, market economies, obscure counter-revolutionary authors, the Catholic Church, monarchism, ordered liberty, classics, improved education, Iberia, Denmark, the missão civilizadora, respectable journals, and Mediterranean cuisine
Dislikes: Islam, Hinduism, revolutionaries, overbearing republicanism, progressivism, social democracy, Marxism, anarchism, Brutalism, anti-clericalism, laïcité, libertinage, India, Pakistan, the disappearance of Latin and Greek, red mastheads, and curry
Any Questions from the Public to be answered?
- Yogita Limaye, BBC: Mr Paus dos Reis, how would you wish to organise the state? - A loose federation is the only conceivable solution to Fernão’s ills; aside from it, only the total, chaotic dissolution of the state is possible. I am certain, Ms Limaye, that not one amongst the reasonable voices in this country wishes for the latter to occur. I remain confident in the Provisional Government’s ability to produce a palatable basic law. I’ve been wrong in the past, though.
- Lorem ipsum? - Dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit.
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