Watch Chris Martenson’s latest video.
Hopefully his and Dr Geert Vanden’s fears are based on fact, as coupled with the looming dollar collapse and the depletion of oil it would lead to the much-longed-for apocalyptic scenario for priests like us.
Month: June 2021
4 ‘The Russian’ – Tort
In pursuit of a metaphorical king
I played this game in a tournament of the Ibrahim Martínez club in the Colonia Roma in Mexico City: a neighbourhood that Alfonso Cuarón made known to the world with Roma, a film that I have criticised on my website The West’s Darkest Hour. I couldn’t say it’s a great game but I’m including it because I used to enjoy reproducing it at home, safe from the agonies of live fighting. Even after playing it long ago, I am delighted to see how I crucified the poor white king in the first row of the board. As in the games in which I defeated Norgaard and friend Marco, the direct attack on the king is what gives us the greatest pleasure. Not during the tortuous live game, of course; but safe at home, with beautiful Staunton pieces of wood, and with our living room fireplace lit.
FIDE TOURNAMENT, IBRAHIM CLUB
Time control: 2 hours / 40 movements
February 24, 1993
1 e4 e5
2 f4 d5
The Falkbeer Countergambit.
3 exd5 c6!?
I prepared the Nimzowitsch variant of the countergambit especially for this game. I had made inquiries about the opening repertoire of my opponent, Manuel García Marquina, a young white man nicknamed ‘The Russian’ in chess circles. The referee of the event himself had the indiscretion to tell me that he was playing the King’s Gambit. ‘Really?’ I replied with wicked eyes and a smile. And I went home happy to prepare a line for the Russian: a variant that surprised him.
4 Nf3
Another possibility is 4 Qe2. After this game I heard these words from a fan who was surprised by my victory: ‘The Russian is a specialist in the King’s Gambit’.
4 … e4
5 Qe2 Nf6
6 d3 cxd5
7 dxe4 dxe4
8 Nc3 Bb4
9 Qb5 +
Already in the postmortem, according to some beautiful variants played by the machine, 9 Bd2 would have been better for Black.
9 … Nc6
10 Ne5 Bxc3 +
This opens the a3-f8 diagonal. But if 10… Qd4; 11 Tb1 Nd5; 12 Nxc6 and the resulting complications seem to leave White better. I confess that these calculations, and countless others, I do thanks to my computer system. Only with these sophisticated toys that play first-rate chess have I managed to delve deeply into many of my games.
11 bxc3 O-O
12 Nxc6??
12 Ba3! could have tied the game after 12 … Re8; 13 Rd1 Qc7 (but not 13… Qa5 because 14 Qxa5 followed by 15 Bb5, winning); 14 Bd6 Db6; 15 Bc5 and draw by repetition of moves.
12 … bxc6
13 Qxc6 Bg4
14 Ba3 Re8
15 Qd6 Qa5
16 Bb4 Qa4
17 Bc4 a5
18 h3
And now the direct assault on the king:
18… Rd8
19 Qc7 Qxc2
20 hxg4 Qxg2
21 Qxf7 + Kh8
22 Rh6 e3
23 White resigns
Chess players are sadists. Many of us were abused as children by our parents and, as we must honour them, we take it out on scapegoats. My youth idol Alekhine beat his wives and suffered attacks of violence. Once he lost a game he destroyed some furniture in his hotel and occasionally threw his king across the room. And it was Alekhine himself who said: ‘During a chess tournament a master must envisage himself as a cross between an ascetic monk and a beast of prey’.
An American journalist asked the former champion Spassky, of style influenced by Alekhine, if he believed that the young Seirawan, then the promise of the United States, would conquer the crown. Spassky replied that he doubted it, and added that to become world champion it is necessary to be a kind of bird of prey, a potential murderer: a gift that not all chess players have. In no other game or sport do players speak of ‘killing’, ‘destroying’ or ‘breaking’ the opponent as in chess (remember my quoted diary: ‘I had always wanted to kill Marco with a queen sacrifice’). The type of chess player Spassky refers to sometimes plays in order to engender the morbid pleasure of seeing his opponent bow down. In 1971, a year before being crowned world chess champion, Bobby Fischer (1943-2008) responded to Dick Cavett during a television show: ‘The greatest pleasure? When you break his ego’ referring to the opponent’s ego; and there are those who have said, with some hyperbole, that Fischer had the mentality of a killer.
Unscrupulous psychologists insert electrodes into the rats’ pleasure centres in the brain. They are then conditioned to push a button for ultra-rewarding stimulation. Electrode-implanted rats become addicted to infinite pleasure; so much so that they stop eating and, when they put a metal floor where they will receive a strong electric shock if they step on it, they gladly do so in order to touch the button and artificially masturbate their neurons. What does the torment matter if what is pursued is the absolute glory of that moment!
The players I know appreciate my electric chair metaphor. They say it’s accurate to illustrate the gambit that we do in life when we play in tournaments. Like me, they have suffered horrors in a gambling room that sometimes looks like a torture chamber. But the apparent masochism of faithfully subscribing to the next tournament is inexplicable to them. These gambling addicts, with no insight about what they did to us as children, must have a huge motive for revenge that compels them to hunt down a metaphorical king. We cannot attack those who gave us life. But in the game we can crucify our opponent from time to time.
Categories
Hitler vs. Hood
In his most recent article on American Renaissance (republished by Occidental Dissent) Gregory Hood tells his fellow Americans:
Different variations of the American flag flew during the Revolution, during the conquest of the West, and during the rise to superpower status. It’s the American flag on the moon. Must we abandon that? My head says “yes,” my heart says “no.”
Hood believes his nation was only recently corrupted. If we imagine a DNA of an alien body-snatched pod of not double, but triple helix, we find that the axes that formed America are Christianity, Capitalism and Enlightenment dogmas (‘We hold these truths to be self-evident…’). If we add Jewish influence in the media, these factors explain the current psychosis Americans are suffering today.
Hood and those who are commenting about his article on Amren and OD have to be more than blind not to see that their country was a freak from the moment of its conception, not that it has been corrupted recently. What Hitler saw about the US in the last century, why can’t American racialists see?
Categories
Sieg der Waffen – Sieg des Kindes, 5
Die Erkenntnis, daß das nordische Blut das im Volkskörper überwiegende, das Gesicht des Volkes prägende, den Volkscharakter bestimmende und die Herzen verbindende ist, ist heute Allgemeingut des Volkes.
Categories
WDH – pdf 391
Click: here
3 Tort – Norgaard
Fuck chess!
After playing three months at Club Mercenarios, this was the first time Jesper Norgaard, a Dane who fathered children with a Mexican woman, lost. In the end, everyone shook my hand, which filled me with satisfaction, especially the congratulations from Héctor Busto. Even the now deceased Ricardo Ramírez Honey published the game in the newspaper. But that is not the reason for picking it up here, but the agonies that I wrote down live during the game. My second retirement from tournament chess in my thirties (I had retired for the first time in my twenties) can be traced to this pseudo-victory.
TOURNAMENT ‘DEL PAVO MERCENARIOS’
Time control: 2 hours / 45 movements
November 12, 1992
1 e4 e5
2 Nf3 Nc6
3 Bb5
The Ruy López Opening is Jesper’s favourite, but here I am the one who plays white.
3 … a6
4 Ba4 Nf6
5 O-O Be7
6 Bxc6 dxc6
7 Qe1!?
The twice-postponed exchange variation surprised Jesper. The idea is to prevent the black pin Bg4.
7 … Nd7
It was not good 7 … Bd6 for 8 d4, with initiative. With the textual, which is the one recommended by theory, white recovers the time he lost by changing his ‘Spanish bishop’.
8 d4 exd4
9 Nxd4 O-O
10 Nc3 Ne5
Instead, Marcel Sisniega played 10 … Bf6 against Roberto Martín del Campo in the first game of the Closed National Championship, played three months after my game with Jesper, and won in thirty-five moves.
11 Nde2 Bc5
The Encyclopedia of Chess Openings analyses up to this move, and evaluates the position as equal play. The rest was our improvisation.
12 Kh1
The idea is f4-f5-f6 with a strong attack. Months later the story reached my ears that in a chess event held in Ciudad Juárez, Jesper was asked about this game and that he had replied he had fallen in ‘a laboratory move’. But it was not like that. I only knew religiously as far the encyclopaedia goes.
12 … f5
Jesper used half an hour of his time on this move because he knew he was in trouble. At postmortem he commented that he disliked 12 … Qh4 for 13 f4, which according to him would have led to an inferior endgame. Unlike Marco (‘I’m short fuse’ he told me the last time I saw him, in the sense that he exploded for anything), Jesper commented on the postmortem without any apparent discomfort.
13 f4 Ng4
14 e5 Be6
15 h3 Ne3
16 Bxe3 Bxe3
17 Rd1 Qe7
18 Rf3 Ba7
Two bishops against two knights! But if Black cannot activate them, they are badly parried due to the passed and protected pawn.
19 Rfd3 Kh8
20 Nd4 Bc4
21 R3d2 Rae8
Black’s last moves prepare the liberating …g5 that never came.
22 Qg3 Bb6?
23 Nxc6!
Jesper later told me he didn’t see it. On a blank sheet that I hid behind the score sheet of some games of this tournament, I wrote the agonies that I suffered in the live game. The idea was to calm me down, understand the situation and temper my nerves. On the sheet I wrote: ‘(11:19 PM). Having played 23 NxBP makes me the bitch nervous. That nasty! Fuck chess if this is what it does to me! What does it matter to me even if I have a clear advantage…!’
23 … Qc5
24 Nd4 Qb4
25 b3 Bf7?
In the postmortem Jesper explained to me that, since he looked bad positionally, he preferred to lose another pawn in order to complicate the game. But on the loose sheet during the live game I wrote: ‘(11:34 PM). Again after 25 PQN3: Stress, when discharged, makes you see visions!’ And it is that the chair in which I was sitting when facing Jesper was like an electric chair. It was as if it gave ‘shocks’ but I had to remain seated if I wanted to win.
26 Nf5
‘The stress continues at 26. I know it’s crucial that…’ and here I stopped writing because my opponent played:
26 … Bg6
27 Nd5 Qa3
28 Ch4 Bh5
29 Nf3 Ba5
30 c3 c6
31 Ne3 Bxc3
32 Nc4
This knight manoeuvre gave me the victory but I suffered a lot in finding it because I was in time trouble.
32 … Qb4
33 Rd7 Re7
From now on, I will call the chess programs that I had, Fritz and Chessmaster, ‘the machine’, which in this position analysed 33 …Rf7 to which a winning 34 Qg5 would also come, although without the next attack on the King:
34 Qg5 Rxd7
35 Rxd7 Bf7
In my home analysis the machine analysed 35 …Bg6, which could also have been followed by 36 Nd6. At this point the now-deceased Luis Vaca, who presided over the Mercenarios and whom I highly esteemed, called his friends with these words: ‘The Jesper-Tort game is very, very tough!’
36 Nd6 Bg6
The summoned onlookers made an exclamation: the attack on the King was overwhelming. If Black had defended himself with 36 …h6, 37 Qf5 would come.
37 Rd8 Qxf4
Jesper made a curious gesture of displeasure at this moment when we had all Mercenarios players on top. The truth is that they were fascinated by blood and wanted to see him lose. But I suffered more, although in this position it seems laughable, because I was forced to deliver a proper coup de grace and not screw it up, with the very little time on the clock I had.
38 Qxf4 Rd8
39 Nf7 + Bf7
40 Qxf7 h6
41 e6 Black resigns
Although I won, what no one found out and that I only now confess, is that the victory cost me dear. In my diary the next day I wrote down my agonies, although I will edit the comments on the moves to focus on the psychological aspect, and will correct some syntax:
How tough! There were moments of confusion and suffering and, obviously, of ‘ghosts’ like that Qd1 that I saw but the knight prevented it… Very annoying. It was no use writing down my agonies during the game, which was supposed to relieve stress. What did relieve me somewhat was talking to Jorge Aguirre, talking about anything. I hope that for the next game I don’t get like that. It is clear that the cause of stress is the duty to win in an advantageous position and the paranoia of making a mistake. But it’s mostly ‘self-consciousness’ by onlookers that triggers stress. How will I avoid it in the next game?
Speak? Talk to onlookers? ‘How was your game?’ for example—or whatever, whatever to lower the excruciating stress! I wish there was therapy for this. I wish I was as calm as Romanishin [a Ukrainian GM I saw playing in an international tournament], I wish I was a laid-back! But that’s opposite to the spirit of the chess player, the opposite to the spirit of the fighter. I still have to try something or it’s pure masochism every tournament.
The funny thing is that when I thought I was wrong by not taking the Bb6 I relaxed. Maybe it’s because it loosened my tension as I no longer had a perfect game. Perhaps perfectionism causes stress because the paranoia of making a mistake comes. Or maybe it was that I had already talked to these guys…
What a strain relief once my rival gave up! Alejandro Tirado (who yesterday called those in my book about Cuba ‘worms’) watched the game for a long time. Afterwards I felt that he was envious that I had defeated the number #1 player. He had lost his game. Also after …QxP; QxQ I made a pause which contributed that my win be appreciated by the onlookers. It’s funny how at home I like to remember that they saw my attack and victory, but that at the time it was an extreme torment. The sign is changed. The torment becomes glory.
I played the game in the only tournament I have ever won: a club tournament. The memory still comes to me perfectly that when I got home after my decisive victory over Argentine Silvio Pla, three rounds later, with which I secured the first place, I slept the quietest and sweetest night I had slept in a long, long time. Excited, I signed up for the next club tournament. But my victories were still expensive. It’s amazing how chess players keep their emotions to their souls. I have come to the conclusion that it is perfect nonsense to approach chess from a purely logical viewpoint. The heavy intellectual analyses of chess literature not only fail to reflect our inner life: they are misleading to know what’s going on in our little heads. Only if the confessions of the players were written and published would we get to the core of the game.
In my diary I underlined in red my comments about a miniature that I inflicted on Willy de Winter in the first round of my second tournament in Mercenarios:
I lost this game a hundred times in my inside, paranoid insides!
What should I do?
I’m a failure as a chess player…
Today’s suffering was incredible: the greatest stress of all that I’ve experienced. I’d have accepted a draw on any move!
Note the ‘I am a failure as a chess player’. After playing with de Winter I had played ten games on Mercenarios, and except for a single draw I had won them all. None had defeated me. But I was right: these agonies screamed at me, over and over again, that I was in no way a tournament-playing guy, and augured something ominous for my competitive future.
The Spanish writer Fernando Savater stated in an interview: ‘I think that the great secret of chess, what makes it so superior to other logic games, lies in its tremendous intensity. This game compromises the ego of the person. A card player may feel affected because he has lost a lot of money, but he has not bet himself, which is what the chess player does. In this sense, chess can be dangerous’.
Wise insight! To Javier Anaya of the Mercenarios I owe the comparison of chess with mountaineering, where horrors are also suffered although mountaineers continue to climb mountains. I will be told that the comparison is defective since in mountaineering you risk your life and in chess ‘only the ego’. I disagree, and the best answer I can think of is to weigh the following anecdote.
There was Keres, called ‘the champion without a crown’ playing a tournament in 1944 in Estonia in the middle of the world war when an air raid sent everyone fleeing to the shelters. Those who saw him stay asked him in amazement if he wasn’t afraid. Keres replied: ‘I am hardening up my nerves for the World Championship fight’. The torment of sitting in a kind of electric chair at an important chess event causes more stress than the fear of bombings!
One last comment on the total lack of communication between fans. No one at the club realised that my victory over de Winter had been Pyrrhic. In the autistic bubbles in which they live locked up, between players it isn’t politically correct to speak about a lost soul. From the outside we appear to be scientists engaged in a game of pure logic. The truth is that when we play we twist in the magma of emotions. The colour of chess is not the black and white that onlookers see: it’s scarlet red.
After my game with de Winter in my second tournament at Mercenarios, a tournament appropriately called ‘Guerra y Paz’ (War and Peace), in the next round I beat Jesús Casillas. Interestingly, when I was aware that I had made a hideous mistake in that game, my nerves magically calmed down. The experience with Casillas and an identical one with René Sánchez, the only one who had obtained a draw from me until then, suggests that it’s precisely the desire for perfection, to want to play as flawlessly as the algorithms of a computer, which causes the crisis in the chess player. We have to understand that human beings do not have silicone minds. We are creatures of emotions. There is no such thing as ‘Mr. Chess Spock’, not even the world champion. It is known how nervous Kasparov was in his games with Anand for the World Championship, and let’s not talk about Ivanchuk.
After my game with Casillas, which I won only thanks to a very human mistake he made, my tortured invincibility in Mercenarios evaporated. Jesper Norgaard was the first to snatch a point from me in a very close duel that ended at 2:30 in the morning. Those still present at that time, engrossed to see the then invincible fall, congratulated the Dane as they had congratulated me when I won the previous tournament. In the next round something worse came: ‘the shortest game I’ve played in a tournament’, Roberto González, my opponent, told me. I resigned in the middle of the opening because of a crude trap that he tended to win my queen. That would be the beginning of the great collapse of my level of play both in that and in the following tournaments that I played in ’93.
Although with some exceptions, as can be seen in the next game.
Categories
Last chance
These times represent the last chance for racially conscious white men to get some silver (or gold if you can afford it). The inflation we see is going to degenerate into hyperinflation until the US dollar turns confetti. Above I link to Peter Schiff’s podcast today. But those new to this topic should check out this documentary that the producer Tim Delmastro kindly sent me several years before it became freely available on YouTube.
2 Tort – Colín
The park that welcomed me
This game was played in the park where I played chess in the Colonia del Valle in Mexico City, very close to where I lived with my grandmother. This park welcomed me in my teens when I fled from extremely abusive parents and school. It was a different place than the public parks where the outcast underclass used to take refuge to play chess and dominoes. It’s true that when I was repudiated by my parents I found myself as marginalised as the underclass, but in Las Arboledas Park there was a cultural level very different from that of the parks with the tents in the centre of Mexico City. It was there, in this park for middle-class people, that I really learned to play chess.
FRIENDLY GAME
Las Arboledas Park
(ca. 1985)
1 e4 e5
2 Bc4
This was my favourite move in the park. I won countless games with 1 PK4, PK4; 2 BB4, as it was written then in the descriptive notation (as opposed to the algebraic notation that I use in most of this book). The idea was not to play the hackneyed lines of the Bishop’s Opening, but the gambit that ensues after 2… NKB3; 3. NKB3, NXP; 4. NB3!? whose theory no one knew. In this game Marco Colín eluded the gambit and simply transposed to the Two Knights Defence, so he came out unharmed from the dangers of this opening.
2 … Nf6
3 Nf3 Nc6
4 d4
When I made this move Marco complained that it was a prepared book line. The advantage of friendly games over tournament games is that you can unleash your emotions; you can even curse and there is no rule against it.
4 … Nxe4
5 dxe5
Here Marco exclaimed: ‘Bishop takes pawn, check!’ in the sense that he had seen the threat. ‘Damn brother!’ Only Marco called me with the pleonastic nickname ‘El hermano brother.’
5 … Nc5
6 Nc3 Be7
7 Nd5 O-O
9 O-O Ne6
8 Nxe7 +
I remember that I was worried about the bishop on c5 and wanted to eliminate it as soon as possible.
8… Qxe7
10 c3 b6
11 Bb3 Bb7
12 Re1 Rd8
Since I wrote down this game from memory only when I got home, I don’t remember if the order of the last two moves was correct. Did I play the rook first and then the bishop?
13 Nd4 Rfe8?!
When Marco played this I was surprised. I thought that because of my next move he had to exchange knights. At postmortem he told me he didn’t want me to join my pawns. But he should’ve taken the knight (Kasparov says that when he manages to bring a knight to the f5-square he already feels won). As in the previous game, I didn’t use computer systems to analyse this game. What I write down here were the memories of what I was thinking during the game in the mid-eighties, without outside help.
14 Nf5 Qc5
15 Qh5!
If now 15… Nxe5; 16 Rxe5, winning.
17 … g6
16 Ch6 + Kg7
17 Qf3 Qe7
18 Qg3 Kh8
19 Ng4 d6
One of the Arboledas players, Antonio Galán, who had been watching the game, told me alone when we were walking in the park while Marco reflected: ‘NB6 and pélas!’ although I had already seen this move before he told me. In Mexico this expression is used when a person has been left out of something, for example, eliminated from a competition: ‘Pelas!’ Antonio used the expression in the sense that he saw the black’s defence collapsing. In Spain the pélas colloquialism means something very different: money, as in the neighbouring country to the north it’s colloquially said buck instead of dollar.
20 Nf6 Nxe5
Otherwise a very dangerous attack on the king would come.
21 Nxe8 Rxe8
22 Bxe6! Qxe6
It took me a while to reassess this new position. (Although clock games weren’t played in the park unless they were blitz games, this and others that I played with Marco, Antonio and Enrique Legorreta were virtual tournament games.) Marco then indicated that he intended to play 22…Ng7 if I hadn’t taken the knight from him.
23 Be3
The game is technically won, but this was a trap Marco missed.
23 … c5?
24 f4
Marco made an angry exclamation and shook his head. The interest that we both had invested in the game was considerable because we hadn’t played for a long time with each other.
24 … Nc6
Marco was still flustered and visibly pissed off when he made this last move.
25 Bd4 + Nxd4
26 Rxe6 Nxe6
27 f5!
If this one survived among the countless games I played in the park, it was because of something that caught my attention. As I noted in my diary many years ago: ‘I had always wanted to kill Marco with a queen sacrifice right in this position a few moves later. Synchronicity?’, referring to Jung’s theory. Although I am now sceptical of that theory, the coincidence is interesting: one of the reasons that prompted me to score this game.
27 … Ng7
28 f6 Nf5
29 Re1
I remember Marco’s shock when he saw this move.
29 … Be4
30 Qf4 d5
31 g4 Nh4
32 Qh6 Nf3 +
33 Kf2 Rg8
34 Re3
I thought about this a lot, making sure that after:
34 … Ne5
I immediately made the following pseudo-sacrifice of queen to surprise the old friend:
35 Qxh7 +
Marco removed both his king and my queen from the board as a sign that he was resigning. He was so outraged by the defeat that we barely commented on the postmortem, and at a fast pace he headed for the subway station División del Norte while, naively, I wanted to talk to him after not seeing him for so long. But to be fair I must say that the next day, after his severe moods he confessed to me ‘You played very well!’
Regardless of the game above, it hurts that other games that I played with Marco and those in the park have not been preserved. How I would like to have, for example, that ‘historic’ game in which, playing both blindfold chess, I beat Gerardo Brauer in 1978: a game that merited a bet between my admirers in the park and those of Gerardo. I would also like to be able to reproduce, at home, that five-hour game when I beat Enrique in front of his girlfriend, or those that I beat Gilberto Rangel in a match that he and I played at my grandmother’s house, or the Volga Gambits that with the black pieces I played against Fernando Pérez Melo until he devised a good reply to the defective gambit. (Although he came from the underclass, Fernando had a very good taste for art cinema. I remember that he liked Andrei Rublev when the Russian Embassy premiered it in Mexico.) Only Antonio took the trouble to transcribe some of the games he played in the park. Thanks to his initiative I was able, twenty years after it was played, to reproduce one of the games that Antonio played with Gilberto; although he didn’t want to give me the score sheet of another one where I beat him with white when, from attacking to his queenside, I suddenly switched to a kingside attack. Instead of reproducing his game with Gilberto that he provided me, I would like to say a few words about
This friend who never was
We men are supposed to be very tough, like the tough guys in Hollywood movies: that we don’t cry and that we face our problems alone. This code leads men to seek comfort in gambling, alcohol, a drug, or another artificial balm to alleviate the internal sting. Gilberto, one of the park’s children who threw himself the most on Caissa’s skirts, had a permanent scar on his face caused by a dish that his mother had thrown at him. His friend Roberto, a good-looking, fair-haired lad who also went to the park, had been raped by a priest of the Catholic church on Avenue Cuauhtémoc on the corner of Concepción Beistegui street.
I never knew of anyone who approached Gilberto to talk about the abuse he had suffered at home. The player is able to sit in front of his opponent for years without knowing anything about his life. The purpose of the chessboard between these tough guys is to function as a kind of isolation barrier, and I would like to confess what happened to me when I wanted to break that code of isolation between players. Like Gilberto, what I needed back then was a friend who could listen to me about the huge problem I had at home. But I had none, and when I dared to bring up the subject with Antonio he went to complain to the others that ‘we all have problems’, in the sense that my position was self-centred. As the gossip reached me, Antonio added that he was a friend of mine ‘just to talk about chess’.
If he really said that, he was wrong. I was not self-centred. The proof is that Antonio’s family problems with his brothers were not so serious as to prevent him from pursuing a career. Mine or Gilberto’s were so big that we were left without a profession. The fact that such an elementary reality, one of those that between women so well communicate with each other, is impossible to communicate between men speaks very badly of the player’s psychology, so well portrayed in Dostoevsky’s tale. Precisely because our society forbids us men to mourn, or to have an intimate confidant, Roger Bayde, another of our friends from the park, committed suicide. Like Gilberto, Roger had had a traumatic past with his mother since his childhood, but no one listened to him. Although I’m not sure, it seems to me that the Department of Psychiatry at UNAM, the university where Roger worked, prescribed him psychotropic drugs instead of offering him the ear that he so badly needed.
Roger’s story is not an isolated case in the troubled kingdom of Caissa. Iván used to visit the cabin whose photo appears in the Introduction. This friend became psychically disturbed due to parental abuse (once I spoke to him on the phone he exhibited all the symptoms of ‘word salad’: the peculiar way some people labelled as schizophrenic speak). On one occasion we saw how a man with a hat dragged him by the hair while taking him out of the cafe of the old Gandhi Bookstore: the only time I saw his father. If so he mistreated him in public, how could he not do it in private (his brother shot himself dead in front of his father)?
I could mention other cases of chess players who, like Iván, Roger, Gilberto and Fernando were beaten by their parents and their lives were shattered. But it is unnecessary. Rather, and although very belatedly, I would like to answer the friend who never was: What would I give so that there would be a little more communication between men. And a little less chess…
Editor’s note: Johnson published it a couple of days ago on his webzine. I’m republishing it here because it bothers me that Greg uses that essay in his fundraising campaign. We can already imagine what would happen if those donations were sent to racially aware white people who were NS and not WN. Without the fundraiser section within that same article, Greg’s essay is more readable.
______ 卐 ______
Three readers have asked me to comment on the current state of “the movement.” As Counter-Currents enters our twelfth year, I think it is an appropriate time for such a discussion. In fact, I’ll make it an annual tradition, since I intend to be around for many years to come.
All three readers think the movement is in a malaise. I want to argue that this is not the case. Censorship and deplatforming can slow us down, but they can’t stop us. The Biden administration is dangerous, but it is also a golden opportunity for white identity politics. It is an opportunity in part because it is dangerous.
The first reader fears that social media censorship, particularly on Twitter, has interfered with “productive interactions between different people in the movement.” I don’t think that is true at all.
Twitter has been massively purging Rightist and populist accounts since the beginning of the year. This made Twitter quite boring, so I generally stopped visiting it. Recently, the Counter-Currents account was purged. But I paid so little attention to Twitter that I found out about it on Gab.
Here’s the thing: Losing Twitter and Facebook has not made it impossible for me to keep in touch with others and collaborate with them. Both platforms had some entertainment value. But that was always outweighed by drama, pointless infighting, and constant exposure to obnoxious and repulsive people. I don’t miss any of that. We will win through productive work, not online drama and goofing around. Frankly, some forms of deplatforming are doing us a favor.
The second reader who wrote in is worried that the movement is shrinking because various movement voices have gone silent or disappeared altogether, again due to censorship and deplatforming.
I think this impression is largely based on the reader’s point of view. He’s out in the audience, looking at the stage, and he sees fewer performers up here. Thus he concludes that the movement is shrinking. But the movement is not just the people on the stage, it is also you people out there in the audience. I’m on stage, looking out at the audience, and I can see it growing.
Recently, Frodi Midjord did a poll in his Telegram group. He asked when his followers became “red-pilled,” as we like to put it. Fully 70% became red-pilled after 2013, and 25% became red-pilled since 2018.
That is tremendously encouraging, because 2017 was the beginning of the end for the “Alt Right.” Due to doxing, deplatforming, censorship, legal harassment, and burnout, many leading voices of the Alt Right have gone silent. Others have retreated into inward-facing, cultlike groups. But the Alt Right wasn’t “the movement.” It was just a “brand.” The brand has failed. Some of its standard-bearers have failed. But the broader movement of white identity politics has continued to grow.
The third reader is also worried that censorship and deplatforming are working:
YouTube and Twitter channels with large followings have been banned. When their owners move to other platforms, they retain only a small slice of their former audiences. More alarming, though, is the complete disappearance of some voices. Is the establishment within reach of suppressing our movement and our message altogether?
The short answer is “No.” The system can slow down the spread of our ideas. They can wear down our morale. They can pick off the weak and vulnerable. But they can’t stop our message altogether, for three basic reasons.
First, the only way the system can prevent our ideas from spreading on the Internet is to shut the whole web down, which they can’t do because the system has become dependent upon the web for its own survival. But even if the web went offline tomorrow, we somehow managed without it for most of human history. Its absence did not prevent the rise of Rightist and populist social movements in the past. So we would muddle through.
Second, even if the system silences particular voices, ideas have lives of their own. Bob Whitaker is dead, but now normie Republicans are talking about how anti-racism is a code word for being anti-white. The system can silence me today, but they can’t undo the work that I’ve already done. The White Nationalist Manifesto is already out there. White Identity Politics is already out there. As the Norwegian secret police discovered to their chagrin by arresting me, open persecution just brings more attention to our ideas.
Third, our movement is not the primary cause of the rise of white identity politics. The system itself is driving people to white identity politics. Only a tiny fraction of the tens of millions of whites who voted for Donald Trump ever heard of Counter-Currents or American Renaissance. They voted for Trump because they see the results of multiculturalism, globalization, and out-of-control nonwhite immigration.
Now that the Democrats are in control in Washington, they are doubling down on these policies, which will only accelerate the rise of white identity politics. The Biden regime creates more White Nationalists in a day than I have in the last twenty years. The system can shut me up, but they can’t shut themselves up. They can’t control themselves at all. So white identity politics will continue to rise.
Although I am quite confident that our ideas are spreading and our movement is growing, I’d be a fool not to worry about my personal safety and the personal safety of other white advocates. America is now a lawless country in which blacks and Leftists are given full freedom to destroy. The US government is simply ignoring the fact that during the last year, the Left has been responsible for political violence that has cost dozens of lives and inflicted billions in property damage. Instead, they are promoting the idea that the number one threat of political violence comes from racially aware white people like you and me. Many innocent people will be harassed, entrapped, and framed by the system before this is all over.
But it will all be in vain, because our ideas are already out there, and with each passing day, the system provides new evidence that we speak the truth: multiracial societies are cauldrons of hatred and violence. The only solution is a racial divorce.
1 Grushka – Tort
A beautiful game
If I kept this game it is because I showed it to the poet Jaime Sabines in a 1981 letter, a copy of which I still have. I had played several games of chess with Sabines at his house. In times when my parents’ treatment had spoiled my future, I believed that, being the governor’s brother in Chiapas, he would help me find a job.
Carlos Grushka, the opponent in this only game that I kept from my first tournaments had been, the previous year, youth champion of his country and later he would be Argentine runner-up; he represented Argentina in four Olympics, drew with Karpov and beat Larsen.
I have no interest in analysing this game with the computer system, which didn’t exist then. The analyses that I transcribe are those that appear in my letter to Sabines, when I was twenty-three years old. The poet, by the way, didn’t reply to my letter. But some time later I went to see him in Chiapas in search of work: something that constantly fails us players who were marginalised by our families.
CLUB ‘EL ALFIL NEGRO’, FIDE TOURNAMENT 1981
Time control: 2½ hours / 40 movements
CATALAN OPENING
1 Nf3 Nf6
2 g3 d5
3 Bg2 Nbd7
I hadn’t studied this opening, so I improvised according to my own sense.
4 d4 e6
5 O-O Be7
6 c4 O-O
7 Nbd2 c5
8 b3 b6
9 Bb2 Bb7
10 Rc1 Rc8
11 e3 Rc7
12 Qe2 Qa8
13 Ne1 cxd4
14 Bxd4 Bb4
Threatening 15 … Bxd2 and 16 … dxc4, leaving a weak and isolated pawn on an open file.
15 Nef3 dxc4
16 Nxc4 Rfc8
17 Rcd1 b5
18 Nce5 Nxe5
19 Bxe5 Rc2
20 Qxb5 Ng4
21 Ne1
If 21 Qxb4 Bxf3; 22 Bxf3 Qxf3 threatening both 23 Nxf2 and taking the bishop.
21… Bxg2
22 Nxg2
He played that because 22 Nxc2 would lose a piece.
22… Nxf2!!
I have forgotten many moves, games and even opponents that I’ve faced over the board, but will never forget this great knight move. Grushka wasn’t expecting it.
23 Rxf2 Rxf2
24 Nf4
If he took my rook, the check of my other rook would be deadly.
24 … Qf3
25 Qd7
Had he taken my bishop, 25 … Qxd1 would also be fatal.
25 … Rcc2
26 Qd8 + Bf8
27 White resigns
Grushka got upset when I wanted to comment on this game as a postmortem. It’s obvious that his defeat didn’t match the image he had cultivated with his friends from the Club Mercenarios who had brought him to the tournament. After this game, in a raid that some young members of the Mercenarios gave me, Manuel López Michelone, with whom I would also play in that tournament, said something in front of me of bad taste. I was in the back of the car savouring my victory. Manuel, who was in the lead, said to his friends: ‘Who knows why Grushka lost’. It was as if the triumph wasn’t due to how I played, but to something mysterious!
Fortunately, friend Gerardo Brauer congratulated me and made very favourable comments on my plan to have brought the queen to square A8 to double my rooks on the C-file, which gave me a good development in addition to the beauty of an attack on the king from the corner of the board. Not all chess players are able to recognise that the other simply played well. But what stuck me the most that night was what another member of the Mercenarios told me, who was driving the car. He did it with the best of his intentions, but it hurt me. He told me that he had met my mother and that he ‘liked her very well’. I was speechless. I didn’t even smile. It was precisely she who had caused the abuse at home: something that Mario Guevara couldn’t know, and in fact in 1981 I didn’t even live with my mother but with my grandmother. I couldn’t communicate it due to the taboo of never criticising the parents, so I kept quiet among these young chess players and about the rest of the raid I don’t remember anymore.