Siege, 40


Paranoia is an insidious thing and must rank as one of the top two or three causes for the complete failure of racialist organization. Paranoia is most often thought of as seeing things which aren’t there (infiltrators, “Jews”, etc.), but it has one residual effect of not seeing things which really are there. We’ve all seen the instances of the racialist, “Right Wing” type who sees—and often goes on to create—an enemy in one or more Movement comrades, but who falls blindly into government traps.
A genuine leader type can, and will, override all human foibles and deficiencies and go on to wield an effective organization. In spite of surrendering to individual weaknesses, he will exploit strengths and talents. The trick is that he himself must be smarter or made of better stuff than those he is trying to manage. Hitler was one. Rockwell was another. Hitler originally titled his autobiographical master-work as a “Struggle Against Lies, Stupidity, and Cowardice”, thus almost surrendering to the temptation to lower oneself to the negativism which, admittedly, abounds. Fortunately, Hitler thought better of it in the end and gave us instead Mein Kampf. Commander Rockwell publicly inveighed against Right Wing divisiveness and privately complained about how it was eating up far too much of his time and energy and preventing the Party from growing into what it should, and could, have become during his life and under his leadership. But he stayed on the road and in the public eye, hard at work building the political organization despite all.
Today what passes as the Movement lies at the total mercy of unbridled paranoia reaching back for an entire decade. Times and strategies have changed, or have had to be changed to face present realities, and I’ve often enough in the past labored long over most things of an hallucinatory nature which have ripped the Movement into shreds. Now perhaps is the time to discuss some of those things which are quite real but have done almost as much damage simply because Movement adherents have been too occupied with the unreal.
The real threat to radical political organizations is always from government sources. After all, is it not the fear of the presence of government agents which leads to (or provides excuse) for those paranoid ones to label this or that hapless person an agent provocateur? But for every ten persons so accused, only one turns out to be the real thing. And that is if he is ever “uncovered” as such. Most of the time, these agents simply gather their information and then disappear as quickly as the came, with no harm done. I’ve known the company of quite a few.
The really classic example of an agent provocateur is in fact the one which only appears in the rarest of cases. He’s the one who, through his skill and your carelessness, gets you and your associates locked up, injured, or killed. These agents are distinct from simple informants because they actually engineer things which otherwise would never happen. Commander Rockwell often said that both an idiot or an agent can get you just as dead or just as locked up. But if you can’t determine the difference between the two, then be assured, you’d be better off not aspiring to any Movement leadership.
The leaks which I’m talking about are not our leaks, that is, any holes in our security such as it is, but rather their leaks… leaks in the secrecy of their blanket surveillance of us and leaks in the effectiveness of it. Agents do exist and if you stay at this long enough, active enough, you will run into your share of them. But regardless who you are and what role you may play in the Movement, if your name so much as appears on a mailing list, then you too are part of this “blanket surveillance” which extends over all the rest of us.
About 1970 I was at a party in a rural county south-east of here, attended by a group of young persons of about my age at that time (eighteen years). One of them was the son of neighbors of ours down the country road where we’d moved from the city. After a few drinks, he approached me with, “How come the FBI is after you?”. I told him I hadn’t been aware that they were after me, whereupon he stated that two agents had been by his home and had asked certain questions about me of his parents. Questions pertaining to certain nocturnal gatherings being held on my grounds lately and being pretty well-attended by locals. I assured my friend that everything was all-right and laughed to myself at the idea of the FBI concerning itself over earlier drinking parties I had hosted, and which were made up of practically the identical cast that was present that evening. This, to the FBI, was a “Nazi Rally” if I was the one hosting it. Wouldn’t the guests have positively crapped had they but known?
In 1975, when I first emerged from six months in jail (having been convicted of a “criminal” charge as this country “has no political prisoners”), I sent for and obtained my FBI file. At that time it amounted to a mere fifty pages but it was notable that it extended back into my high school days, with information having been supplied by former “friends” and associates as well as parents of same, and amounting to no more and no less than hearsay and rumor. 1975 was also the year I broke from the former national Party and became active in my own right. Three years later, in 1978, I again requested my updated FBI file and was told that it now amounted to 2,500 pages. Fifty pages accumulated from 1966-1974 (including three years off and on at National Headquarters), and 2,500 pages from 1975-1978. That tends to speak for itself except that the vast bulk of what was contained in those pages is useless garbage, and again, rumor. (Specifics, such as the identities of agents, informants, etc., were blacked-out but, by reading “around” the omitted parts, one had no difficulty in determining who the informants were.)
During 1974 the Ross County unit of the Party was engaged in a legal fight to secure the country’s first openly Nazi booth at a county fair. With the help of the ACLU, we succeeded in doing just that. As this is a small town and “things like that just don’t happen around here”, the air was tense that entire summer. I recall one evening picking up my telephone to make a routine call, first to hear no dial tone and, next, to overhear open-ended conversation in the background. Conversation which, after a few moments of listening to, was determined to be originating from Chillicothe City Hall and Police Station! And at about that same time came the incident after I had cashed a few minor checks from Party headquarters at my customary bank for the purchase of licenses necessary for the fair booth, etc., when the rumor came back to me that I was “being bankrolled by the Nazis”. If only it could have been true!
It was during about 1977 that I received in my P.O. box a letter from the secretary of a California comrade, a major Movement leader at that time. The envelope was unopened, there was no return address save for the postmark itself, and the only things correct in the address were my name and the State of Ohio. The box number, the name of the city, and even the zip code were all wrong—not even close. Yet the letter made it to me all safe and sound. Rod Serling, move over!
Then there have been certain actions here locally which, had the police but intervened in them, could have put myself and a few others away on some heavy charges. These involved matters ranging from the illegal to the quasi-legal, but which contained too many legalistic, red-tape complications to be comfortable with in any case. Some had to do with planned physical attacks in broad daylight in public, while others involved forays into surrounding counties to spread the revolutionary word, and involving trespassing, minors, etc. (We were told that these cities’ police departments requested of the one locally to please either stop us from doing this or at least tip them as to when we were on our way. They failed to do either.)
There was the flight I had to make from Ohio in 1981 when a warrant for my arrest appeared imminent. There was no difficulty in getting out. Evidently, they weren’t watching closely at these times… Or else they didn’t want to move until they felt sure they could put me away for good.
More recently, I was told by an amused ex-girlfriend last year that, during the course of a conversation at a social gathering attended by herself and some local attorneys, etc., plus one out-of-state government man, it was dropped by this out-of-towner that there was one local name on his list of “dangerous persons” to watch: mine. And, presently, there was a call from one ex-associate about a month ago to the effect that I was “about to take a fall”. According to him, rumors emanating from sources both official and private—were too many to be ignored. Illegal possession of certain material was at bottom. He advised me to get rid of it if, indeed, it existed at all and I assured him, “No problem”. (And, to date, no raid.)
With the single exception of the last account, none of the above was ever, at any time, discussed over the telephone, through the mail, or with any person not immediately involved with the issue at hand. (And persons involved were kept to a strict minimum.) As Commander Rockwell advised in his masterful Legal, Psychological & Political Warfare, you must assume that you are being watched and listened to at all times and proceed to act accordingly because, in effect, you are! The degree and intensity of this surveillance rises or falls hand-in-hand with the degree of revolutionary political activity you maintain. Mine has been pretty intense in the past but I have always found there to be “leaks” aplenty in Big Brother’s fearsome apparatus; leaks in his supposed steel wall of covert secrecy; leaks in his supposed air-tight coverage of everything we say and do.
Most importantly, these leaks can be anticipated and even engineered by you for revolutionary advantage if only you discipline yourself and rid your mind of deadly paranoia which, far from “protecting” you from Big Brother’s agents, actually does about eighty percent of their work for them!

Vol. XIII, #12 – December, 1984

Why we are reproducing articles from Siege can be surmised: here.