web analytics
Categories
Julian (novel) Literature Porphyry of Tyre

Julian, 12

Julian presiding at a conference of Sectarians
(Edward Armitage, 1875)

 
But at that time I was hardly a philosopher. I studied what I was told to study. The deacon who gave me instruction was most complimentary. “You have an extraordinary gift for analysis,” he said one day when I was exploring with him John 14:25, the text on which the Arians base their case against the Athanasians. “You will have a distinguished future, I am sure.”
“As a bishop?”
“Of course you will be a bishop since you are imperial. But there is something even more splendid than a bishop.”
“A martyr?”
“Martyr and saint. You have the look of one.”
I must say my boyish vanity was piqued. Largely because of this flattery, for several months I was confident that I had been especially chosen to save the world from error. Which, in a way, turned out to be true, to the horror of my early teachers.
Bishop George was an arrogant and difficult man but I got on with him, largely because he was interested in me. He was a devoted controversialist. Finding me passably intelligent, he saw his opportunity. If I could be turned into a bishop, I would be a powerful ally for the Arians, who were already outnumbered by the Athanasians, despite the considerable help given them by Constantius.
Today, of course, the “pernicious” doctrine of the three-in-one God has almost entirely prevailed, due to the efforts of Bishop Athanasius. Constantius alone kept the two parties in any sort of balance. Now that he is dead the victory of the Athanasians is only a matter of time. But today none of this matters since the Galileans are now but one of a number of religious sects, and by no means the largest. Their days of domination are over. Not only have I forbidden them to persecute us Hellenists; I have forbidden them to persecute one another. They find me intolerably cruel!
Was I a true Galilean in those years at Macellum? There has been much speculation about this. I often wonder myself. The answer is not clear even to me. For a long time I believed what I was taught. I accepted the Arian thesis that the One God (whose existence we all accept) mysteriously produced a sort of son who was born a Jew, became a teacher, and was finally executed by the state for reasons which were never entirely clear to me, despite the best efforts of Bishop George to instruct me.
But while I was studying the life of the Galilean I was also reading Plato, who was far more to my taste. After all, I was something of a literary snob. I had been taught the best Greek by Mardonius. I could not help but compare the barbarous backcountry language of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John to the clear prose of Plato. Yet I accepted the Galilean legend as truth. After all, it was the religion of my family, and though I did not find it attractive I was unaware of any alternative until one afternoon when I was about fourteen.
I had been sitting for two hours listening to the deacon sing me the songs of Bishop Arius… yes, that great religious thinker wrote popular songs in order to influence the illiterate. To this day I can recall the words of half a dozen of his inane ballads which “proved” that the son was the son and the father was the father. Finally, the deacon finished; I praised his singing.
“It is the spirit which matters, not the voice,” said the deacon, pleased with my compliment. Then—I don’t know how it happened—Plotinus was mentioned. He was only a name to me. He was anathema to the deacon. “A would-be philosopher of the last century. A follower of Plato, or so he claimed. An enemy of the church, though there are some Christians who are foolish enough to regard him highly. He lived at Rome. He was a favourite of the Emperor Gordian. He wrote six quite unintelligible books which his disciple Porphyry edited.”
“Porphyry?”
As though it were yesterday, I can remember hearing that name for the first time, seated opposite the angular deacon in one of the gardens at Macellum, high summer flowering all about us and the day hazy with heat.
“Even worse than Plotinus! Porphyry came from Tyre. He studied at Athens. He called himself a philosopher but of course he was merely an atheist. He attacked the church in fifteen volumes.”
“On what grounds?”
“How should I know? I have never read his books. No Christian ought.” The deacon was firm.
“But surely this Porphyry must have had some cause…”
“The devil entered him. That is cause enough.”
By then I knew that I must read Plotinus and Porphyry. I wrote Bishop George a most politic letter, asking him to lend me the books of these “incorrigible” men. I wished to see, I said, the face of the enemy plain, and naturally I turned to the Bishop for guidance, not only because he was my religious mentor but because he had the best library in Cappadocia. I rather laid it on.
To my astonishment Bishop George immediately sent me the complete works of Plotinus as well as Porphyry’s attack on Christianity. “Young as you are, I am sure that you will appreciate the folly of Porphyry. He was an intelligent man misled by a bad character. My predecessor, as bishop of Caesarea, wrote a splendid refutation of Porphyry, answering for all time the so-called ‘inconsistencies’ Porphyry claimed to have detected in scriptures. I am sending you the Bishop’s works, too. I cannot tell you how pleased I am at the interest you are showing in sacred matters.”
What the good Bishop did not know was that the arguments of Porphyry were to form the basis for my own rejection of the Nazarene.

Two subjects

Today’s article by Hunter Wallace is one of the best articles I’ve read about the ongoing discussion among white advocates as to how advertise their intellectual product. You can skip the boring quotations in that article but Wallace’s tweets are good. He’s basically saying the obvious: We must preach to disaffected whites and for the moment ignore the bourgoise, the normies.
Changing subjects, even normie intellectuals know what we have been saying in this site: what supports the current morality is Christianity, even when this religion is gone. Watch for example this YouTube speech especially after minute five, when Jordan Peterson starts to criticise the superficial atheism of (((Sam Harris))).

Categories
Free speech / Free press WDH radio show

WDH Radio Show – Episode 6

Conversation with Joseph Walsh

— Listen to it here! —
 
This was an informal chat of two days ago with Joseph Walsh that I found suitable for Episode 6.
If you forgive my broken English, the first subject we discussed is the imprisonment of nationalist Britons a few days ago for thoughtcrime (see also here and here).
Then we talked about the coming financial collapse: something that, among white advocates, very few are paying due attention (see e.g., yesterday’s Rebel Yell article here).
Aryan ethno-suicide is discussed as more serious than the JP, in the context of Christian ethics.
Near the end of the recording we approached the subject of a paradigm shift by 2070 A.D. (“the Jesus era is over!”).

Categories
Literature

KD Rebel, 3


Eric and Trebor blended in with the crowd, then ambled casually to their car. A little over two hours earlier, they had maneuvered the innocuous dark-colored 4-door sedan they were using into a spot at the back of the parking lot belonging to Sid’s Porno Palace. They had picked a place affording unrestricted sight of both the side and front entrances to the building.
As always when KD operated inside System territory, they drove a stolen car and kept a supply of purloined license plates in the trunk. With the advent of computerized identification capabilities in almost all police vehicles, no member of the resistance dared to submit even to routine stops by the authorities. They stole the kind of vehicles least likely to draw attention, made certain that headlights, tail lights, brake lights and signal lights were in working order, and obeyed all traffic laws.
On those rare occasions when a KD soldier was nonetheless signaled to pull over, whether by sirens, lights or bullhorns, they had no option but to fight. The standard procedure was to immediately stop, jump out with an assault rifle, and totally neutralize the enemy, then either change license plates or abandon the vehicle. There was no sense trying to outrun radios or helicopters.
In the back seat under a blanket were two backpacks containing emergency rations, water and first-aid kits, in case it did become necessary to abandon a vehicle. Also hidden under the blanket were two .308 caliber rifles and ballistic vests. The vest had custom-made pockets for extra ammunition clips, both for the rifles and for the 9mm handguns concealed on the KD raiders’ bodies.
Trebor unlocked the driver’s door while Eric used his own key to enter the passenger side. All members on a mission carried keys to all vehicles in case of separation or the death of the driver. As always, the dome light was disconnected to allow surreptitious entry and exit at night. After donning the vests beneath outer clothing, they relaxed, affecting that curious air of apparent unconcern so common to combat veterans, but their watchful eyes were ever alert for police, for anything unusual, and especially for the emergence of Sid Cohen from his gaudy night club. Eric, despite his youthful appearance, had participated in numerous raids over the last six years. His companion’s looks were equally deceiving. Dressed in grey slacks and a blue pullover sweater, he could easily pass for a doctor or college professor. In reality, he was one of the most feared and respected KD in all of Kinsland. Proficient in the most functional of several martial arts disciplines and absolutely ruthless with enemies, his exploits were legendary.
Eric was still curious about Trebor’s intentions regarding Candy and Heather. Passing time while they waited for Cohen, who undoubtedly was counting the night’s proceeds, he broached the subject in an oblique manner. “If we are going to stop those girls from performing again, how do we get their addresses?” he queried.
“Mr. Cohen will tell us.” The menace in Trebor’s voice had not diminished one iota when the subject was the porno king. A few years earlier, Eric might have shuddered when considering what awaited Sid Cohen in the near future, but now he was inured to the enemies’ fate.
“And after we get the girls’ addresses?” Eric persisted. “Then we make sure they never again display their charms to Skraelings.”
“Okay, damn it how?” Eric knew that Trebor was being obtuse on purpose, his way of teasing a younger comrade. The question was, would the girls be captured or executed?
Trebor pretended to ponder for interminable moments, then opined, “I reckon those two could make some fine babies for me.”
“Alright!” Eric enthused. “It’s about time you did your reproductive duty.” Eric had no interest in the pair for himself, as his heart was set on a high school girl that Trebor had agreed to help him capture. KD informants had picked her as a likely candidate. She was a pretty girl, unfortunately bewitched by universalist poison. Her teachers, parents, the media and every influence in her life had taught her that it was okay, even preferable for White girls to date and mate with Skraelings. She would have to be saved from her own folly before it was too late.
By quarter after two, 15 minutes past the closing time set by Colorado law for establishments serving alcoholic beverages, the parking lot was empty except for the KD raiders’ car and an ostentatious limousine parked directly outside the side entrance to the Palace. Soon the door opened and a hulking brute of a man of indiscernible racial origin emerged, followed by Sidney and, to the raiders’ surprise, by Candy and Heather. The huge man, whom Eric promptly dubbed “the freak”, was apparently a chauffeur and bodyguard. Deferentially he opened the rear doors for the other three, then took his place in the driver’s seat.
To the KD men, Sidney looked ridiculous, like a vain peacock, with tight pants, an open shirt and abundant gaudy jewelry adorning his pudgy body. From a distance the girls looked like teenagers, dressed in designer jeans and silky blouses.
The limousine pulled out onto Federal Boulevard and headed south, past sleazy bars, seedy motels and all the ugly effluvium of early 21st century American cities. The raiders followed a half block behind. It would be tricky keeping their quarry in sight without being spotted, but since their contacts in the Denver area had not been able to locate a private residence deeded to Sidney Cohen in the Denver County records office, this surveillance was necessary.
The limousine turned west on 6th Avenue, then south on Wadsworth. “Ah,” Trebor murmured, “Jefferson County, the Gods are with us.” Jefferson County sprawled many miles west of Denver, all the way into the mountains. Their route home would be relatively uncomplicated.
Eric figured that after Trebor’s comment, it would be a long night. Despite Trebor’s meticulous planning for guerrilla raids, he also seemed to believe in omens. If he said the Gods were with them, they probably were, or perhaps fortune just favored the bold.
Meanwhile, in the limo, all was not bliss. Even though this was payday for the girls, meaning they would get a week’s supply of cocaine and several hundred dollars in cash, their workday was not over. There was still the private performance that Sidney demanded on payday, once a week.
Sidney was not happy either, even though he looked forward to debauching the two White girls. The club had not been fully packed, and receipts were down. He blamed it on the two girls who were holding out for higher pay before they would agree to duplicate the most raunchy acts he required of them in private performances, including oral sex and copulation with simulated male sex organs. Well, tonight—he vowed to himself—they would pay for their obstinacy or no pretty white powder. Whipping naked women while they were tied up in fully exposed and helpless positions was his favorite sport.
The freak turned into the exclusive Green Gables subdivision. Now, late in April, immaculate lawns were just turning green as spring came late in the mile-high city. Palatial homes on huge lots stood up to one hundred yards apart, separated by trees, shrubs and privacy fences, making each residence resemble a secluded estate. The limo turned onto a long driveway, lined by bushes. The quartet, preoccupied with their own thoughts, never thought to look behind them where an unobtrusive sedan eased sedately past the driveway entrance. Nor did they know that the car stopped just yards from the driveway, out of sight behind shrubbery.
“This cheap car stands out like a sore thumb,” was Trebor’s first comment.
“Why don’t I get out and reconnoiter on foot. You can go somewhere and come back in fifteen minutes,” Eric suggested. There was agreement. Eric disappeared behind bushes as Trebor headed for more innocuous surroundings. It gave him time to reflect.
It was the knowledge that the beauty of the White Aryan woman might soon disappear from the earth forever that drove him to fight. Yet, despite all he had done to preserve their images, he had not enjoyed the favors of a woman for over fourteen years. He had no illusions about Candy and Heather. Because they were so remarkably beautiful they would be good breeding stock, but little else, at least until after a long period of re-education and discipline.
The last remaining young White women in System territory lived in hedonistic luxury undreamed of by the British monarch two centuries earlier. Drugs, cars, television roles, money and adulation were dumped in their laps while the inventions of White men, from washing machines to microwave ovens eliminated labor. Women do not voluntarily give up such pleasure and luxury no matter how earnestly White men might plead. That’s why abducting them was the only recourse. Undoubtedly this pair was even more spoiled and selfish than most. He would have to be harsh and ruthless with re-education and discipline, which wasn’t his nature with women. Yet he could not bear the thought of their genetic beauty not being passed on. He sighed deeply and headed back to meet Eric.

____________________

KD Rebel is now available from Daybreak Press: here.

Categories
Ethnic cleansing Who We Are (book) William Pierce

Three-eyed raven, 8

Indented paragraph is taken from Who We Are by William Pierce:

The hard lesson taught by the different results of the European colonization of North America, Latin America, Australia, New Zealand, India, and southern Africa is that the only type of colonization with lasting significance is racial colonization; and that racial colonization can succeed only when Whites are willing and able to clear the land of non-White inhabitants and keep it clear.

Note: The above quotation of Pierce’s book is contextualized in The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour (available: here).

Categories
Homosexuality

Homos & nationalists

Thanks to Richard Spencer’s Facebook page I realised that Andrew Joyce has produced “a powerful, definitive comentary on the homosexual question” in white nationalism.
Joyce wrote: “The fact that an ostensibly nationalist writer can openly praise a pederastic author who denigrated the reproductive relationships of normal, healthy families is a sign of a degenerative rot that has developed in the corners of this movement.”
It’s a long essay divided in three parts: here, here and here. In the comments section Joyce wrote—:

My advice to homosexuals is this:
1. Keep your mouth shut. Don’t pretend you’re better than normal people with some “elitist cultural” nonsense. Something went wrong in the womb or your childhood. You are an evolutionary dead end.
2. Don’t aspire to leadership.
3. Don’t promote your condition as normal or superior.
4. Don’t attack fellow nationalists because their religion is hostile to your condition.
5. Stay away from our youths.
6. If caught violating any aspect of the above conditions expect to be dealt with harshly.

I can only hope this indictment gains traction among white nationalists.

Categories
William Pierce

The Scorpion and the Frog

by William Pierce

I was a guest on the Bob Grant Show in New York last week. Bob Grant’s talk radio show is enormously popular with his White male audience, despite his rough treatment of some of his guests and many of his callers. A typical comment to a caller who displeases him is, “Get off the line, you jerk!” He once told a Black welfare mother, “If I ever get hold of you, I’ll give you a tubal ligation with my bare hands!”
As I said, comments of this sort make Bob Grant enormously popular with his White male listeners, but the Jews and their bedwetting liberal fellow travelers find him much less entertaining, and he has been thrown off several stations as a consequence of Jewish threats against his sponsors. Despite this Jewish hostility directed at him and despite his frequent ridicule of Blacks, he always has been favorable in his remarks about Jews—perhaps because he knows who owns most of the radio stations, or perhaps because he just doesn’t understand what Jews are all about and admires their success and the power they wield over his own profession.
His attitude may be changing for the better now, however. Despite my reputation as being no friend of the Jews, Bob Grant was quite cordial toward me. The hour I was his guest was the afternoon rush hour for New York commuters, and there were many calls from listeners. I am pleased to report that at least three-quarters of the callers were favorable to my positions on race and on Jews. The few Jewish callers, of course, were intensely hostile, and their hostility made a noticeable contrast with the friendliness of the non-Jewish callers. One Jew who called in wanted to know why I blame the Jews for the bias of the news and entertainment media. It’s not the Jews who should be blamed, he said, but the shareholders of the media companies: the Jewish media bosses just do what the shareholders tell them to do.
Well, I responded by pointing out that the top Jewish media bosses also are in many cases the dominant shareholders in the media companies, and I gave Sumner Redstone as an example. Redstone is the majority shareholder in his Viacom Corporation, which in turn owns MTV, Paramount Pictures, and CBS. I described MTV as being the most destructive of all media influences on young, White Americans. I said that MTV deliberately and consistently encourages miscegenation. I said that this racially destructive policy is Sumner Redstone’s policy, not that of any anonymous shareholders, that it is a Jewish policy, and that it is the same policy as that of every other Jewish media boss. I was prepared to go on and talk about Michael Eisner and the Disney Company and ABC, and about Miramax and the Weinstein brothers, and about a lot of others, but Bob Grant disconnected that particular Jewish caller.
Then Bob Grant said to me: “I don’t understand. You said that Sumner Redstone and the other Jewish media bosses are deliberately trying to destroy our society. Why would they want to do that? They are rich and powerful and influential. This society has been good to them. Why would they want to destroy it? That doesn’t make sense to me.”
That was the question he asked me, and it was a very reasonable question. It was the question that almost any intelligent, honest person might ask in those circumstances. It was the natural question to ask: Why do the Jews want to destroy a society that has been so good to them—especially the richest and most powerful Jews? One can imagine some embittered Jewish cab driver or office clerk wanting to strike out at Gentile society because he is resentful over the fact that he can’t seem to strike it rich like the more fortunate members of his tribe, but why would those who are riding high—billionaire Jews such as Sumner Redstone and Michael Eisner—want to wreck the system from which they are profiting?
When Bob Grant asked me that question, I wished he hadn’t. I knew the answer, and it is a simple answer, but it’s not the sort of answer one wants to give to people who are driving home through rush-hour traffic. It is simple, but it also is profound. One needs to hear the answer and then to think about it carefully for a month, turning it over in one’s mind, thinking of specific examples, trying to find counter-examples, holding it up to the light of one’s knowledge of history, before one finally says to oneself, “Yes, that’s it. That obviously is why the Jews do what they do and always have done.” It takes a month of digesting the answer before one finally assimilates it and believes it and understands it. Rush-hour traffic is not the right environment for that sort of thing.
The answer, in its simplest form, to Bob Grant’s question is this: Jews do what they do because they are Jews.
A more didactic answer, and the one I actually gave on the Bob Grant Show last week, is one you probably have heard from me already if you’ve been listening to many of my broadcasts. Here’s what I said to Bob Grant: The Jews, throughout their entire recorded history, have lived as a minority among other people. That’s their typical modus vivendi: not living among themselves in a Jewish society, but living as a small minority—usually a rich and powerful minority—in a non-Jewish society. Israel today is an exception to this pattern, but Israel is an anomaly, something that has existed for only 50 years out of the last 2000 years, and even today it encompasses only a small minority of the world’s Jews. Most of them live in the so-called “Diaspora” as members of a Jewish minority in the midst of a Gentile society.
When the Jews approach a healthy, homogeneous Gentile society with the aim of infiltrating it, they are looked upon as outsiders, as aliens, and regarded with suspicion—and often with hostility if their reputation has preceded them. Facing such suspicion the Jews find it very difficult to gain power or influence so that they can exploit the society.
Their way of dealing with this obstacle is to undermine the solidarity of the Gentile society: to destroy its homogeneity, to attack its morality and its traditions, to encourage alienation among its young people. They do everything they can to make the society more “diverse,” more multicultural, more cosmopolitan, more rootless, more atomized. This is a slow process, often continuing for several generations, but as it proceeds the society’s barriers against the Jews crumble. Ultimately it allows the Jews to control and then plunder the society, to suck it dry before moving on to another Gentile society and beginning a similar process anew.
That’s essentially what I said on the Bob Grant Show last week, although I’m sure that the phrasing I used was a little different. And as I said a moment ago, even though my answer is simple and straightforward, it’s not likely to be fully digested by someone listening to his car radio while trying to get home in rush-hour traffic. It’s a statement of fact, but it needs to be substantiated with a lot of detailed explanation, with many concrete examples, in order to be convincing. What I’ll do now is try to provide some of the explanation and some of the concrete facts.
First, let’s look at what I said about the Jews being a tribe of perpetual outsiders. This is a notion many people who look only at the here and now have difficulty believing. They say to me, “Hey! The Jews aren’t outsiders. They’re as thoroughly integrated into the American melting pot as anyone. They are in every facet of American business and professional and cultural and political life. They own stores of every sort. They buy and sell every type of merchandise. They may not be farmers or welders or machinists or carpenters, but they are doctors and dentists and lawyers and teachers and writers and artists and musicians. They are politicians. There are ten of them in the U.S. Senate, four times as many as one would expect from their percentage of the overall population. There are even two of them on the Supreme Court, which is about nine times what one would expect, since they make up only 2.5 per cent of the general population. So how can you call them outsiders?”
That’s the sort of response I’ve sometimes had from people who are able to see only the present situation. The historical record, however, shows something quite different. It shows the Jews worming their way into one country in Europe after another, gradually monopolizing certain sectors of the economy and then using their monopoly to exploit the Gentile population, and eventually being expelled en masse when their depredations cause sufficient public unrest.
An example is England. The Jews entered England in the wake of the Norman conquest, purchased various privileges and trade monopolies from the ruling monarchs, and made themselves thoroughly unpopular. By the latter part of the 13th century the people of England had become so exasperated with the Jews that in 1290 King Edward the Great expelled all of them from his realm and forbade them ever to return. One might think that they wouldn’t want to go back to a place where they had become so unpopular, but they couldn’t stand the idea of all those Gentiles going unfleeced, and they never stopped scheming to get back in. It wasn’t until Oliver Cromwell and his forces had overthrown the monarchy in the middle of the 17th century, however, that they were permitted to return to England.
They also were run out of virtually every other country in Europe—several times from some of them—but they always were looking for opportunities to sneak back in and return to their old depredations. They especially welcomed the upheavals and dislocations accompanying wars and revolutions because these gave them opportunities to gain footholds in places from which public hostility or the law had excluded them. During the Napoleonic Wars at the beginning of the 19th century Jews followed Napoleon’s armies into many places from which they previously had been barred.
Usually they didn’t have to wait for a war, however: typically they would depend upon the natural tolerance of their hosts to get a toe in the door, and then they would work slowly and patiently to push that tolerance beyond all limits. They always have had an uncanny instinct for sniffing out their hosts’ natural weaknesses and vices and then using them to break down the society’s discipline and order, thereby making it possible for them to enlarge their toehold and gain more influence. Thus, the Jews always have had a proclivity for the liquor business, casinos and other gambling activity, prostitution, the White slave trade, pornography, and the like. It is no coincidence that for many years the Jewish Bronfman family owned the biggest producer and distributor of liquor in North America, the Seagram Company. There are many non-Jews involved in the hotel business around the country, but in Las Vegas, where gambling is so intimately associated with hotels, the business is completely dominated by Jews. In the booming new business of Internet pornography, the biggest operator, the so-called “Bill Gates of e-porn,” is a nice, Jewish boy named Seth Warshavsky, who owns clublove.com and many other of the largest pornography sites.
And so it goes. They find their way to whatever corrupts and weakens their hosts, to whatever is morally destructive, to whatever makes their hosts forget their own traditions and values. They attack order and discipline: those things are no fun, those things are old-fashioned, those things are not cool, they tell the young people. They ridicule the concepts of personal honor and personal responsibility. They distract the people from the important things and fill their minds with foolishness. They encourage every alienating tendency, every tendency that separates people from their roots. They preach “tolerance” as the supreme virtue: their hosts should be tolerant of every sort of filth and weakness and perversity. And all the while they worm their way into the host society more and more deeply.
And indeed, in America today they are in very, very deep. At the beginning of the last century there were signs in the lobbies of New York’s better hotels: “Jews Are Not Welcome.” The better universities had quotas to keep the Jewish presence from becoming too obtrusive. The Jews were pushy, unpleasant outsiders. But they kept on pushing, kept on breaking down the order and structure in the society that was trying in a very feeble and excessively civilized way to keep them out, and today, no less pushy and unpleasant than a century ago, they seem to have achieved the status of insiders everywhere.
And so one might ask, as Bob Grant did, why, having become privileged insiders, are they still bent on destroying our society? Why do even the richest and most powerful Jews—Jews such as Sumner Redstone and Michael Eisner—who have access to anything in our society they want, still work day and night to corrupt and degrade us? Why, having wormed their way in, do all of them push for increasing the flood of non-Whites into the United States from the Third World, thereby weakening their own position? Why do they still encourage our young girls to have sex with Blacks, thereby generating hatred against themselves? Why, having gotten so much of our wealth and power into their hands, don’t they strive to strengthen our society instead of continuing to destroy it?
Well, there are several reasons for that, but let me again give you the simplest answer, which also is the most profound answer: Jews do what they do because they are Jews.
Do you remember the old fable about the scorpion and the frog? The scorpion wants to cross a stream, but he can’t swim. He sees a frog and asks the frog to carry him across on the frog’s back. The frog says, “No, I don’t trust you. I’ve heard about how treacherous scorpions are. I’m afraid that if I let you get on my back you’ll sting me.” The scorpion replies, “Why should I do that? That wouldn’t be in my interest. If I sting you, then we’ll both drown.”
So the frog agrees to let the scorpion get on his back and begins swimming across the stream. Halfway across, the scorpion stings the frog. As the frog is dying and beginning to sink, he asks, “Why did you do that? Now we’ll both die.” The scorpion answers, “I couldn’t help myself. It is in my nature to sting.” And it is in the nature of the Jews to deceive and to destroy. That is what they always have done, from the days of ancient Egypt to the present, and it is what they will continue to do as long as they continue to exist as a coherent, self-conscious group.
Now, there also are longer answers to the question, for those who aren’t ready yet to accept the profound answer. Many ethnic groups came to America from Europe and at first were considered as outsiders but sooner or later became insiders, and the interests of the majority became their interests. In a sense every group that didn’t come here from Great Britain began as outsiders. The German mercenaries from Hessen who fought for King George and stayed here after the American Revolution very quickly became insiders. The Irish, the Poles, and the Italians all went through a similar evolution. Why is it so different with the Jews—aside from the fact that their roots are not European but are Middle Eastern?
For one thing these other groups, the non-Jewish groups, never had deceit and destruction as their primary tactics for becoming insiders. These tactics are not part of their history. Their aim was to become part of the society, not to break it up so that they could exploit it more easily. This difference is manifested in the difference in self-image between non-Jews and Jews. Every healthy ethnic or racial group has a distinct sense of group identity and a distinct self-image. The Scots and the English, for example, have distinct self-images, with their own distinct ancestral languages, their own historical traditions and customs and so on. But despite their history of conflict and hostility toward one another in Europe, either group can blend into the other and adopt the other’s interests without difficulty.
The Jews are different in both degree and kind. For one thing they are much more strongly ethnocentric than any other group. Look in the Yellow Pages under the heading “associations” in any large American city. Compare the number of Jewish associations or clubs or societies or organizations with those of the Irish or the Germans or the Poles. Of course, you also must have some idea of what percentage of the city’s population is Jewish or Irish or whatever in order to get a meaningful comparison. For the best statistics, go to a library that has a copy of the Encyclopedia of Associations. Jews make up just 2.5 per cent of the population of the United States, and yet you will find more Jewish associations listed than for any other ethnic or religious group. They do stick together and support each other more than the members of any other group.
The Jews also are different in kind. What is the essential element in being a Jew? It is being “chosen.” It is believing that one is a member of a tribe or a race or a people that has been chosen by their tribal god to inherit the earth and all that’s in it. It is being superior to all who have not been chosen. If you are able to read the Old Testament with an open mind, the message there is quite clear. If you want more detail, read their Talmud. They don’t like for you to go poking around in their Talmud, but if you are reasonably resourceful you can find a set of volumes of the Talmud and read what they think about themselves in contrast to non-Jews. If that’s too much trouble for you, there are other books available—books written by race-conscious Jews themselves—that spell it out for you. My sponsor, National Vanguard Books, carries several such books.
The book You Gentiles, by the Jewish leader Maurice Samuel, is excellent for a start. Then there are the very revealing books on the doctrines and practice of Judaism by Israeli Professor Israel Shahak. And there are dozens of other books, many of them written by Jews themselves, that can help you in digesting and assimilating what I told Bob Grant last week.
But most fundamentally the Jew, like the scorpion and every other creature, does what it is in his nature to do. He has always lived not by settling down on a piece of turf of his own and planting his own crops and building his own house, but rather by breaking into someone else’s house. And once in he doesn’t try to repair the damage he did by breaking in, but he continues to cause more and more damage as he loots everything of value and then, when there is nothing of value remaining, finding another house to break into—and then another—and another. That is his nature.
And, I should add, there is hardly a more important thing for any of us to do now than understand why the Jews are pushing our society over the brink of ruin, and then to oppose them by every means possible.

__________________________

Free Speech
July 2001
Volume VII, Number 7

Categories
James Mason

Siege, 19

What Movement, Whose Movement?


The Nazi Movement? The Klan Movement? State’s Rights? Racial Nationalist? German-American? Anti-Communist? Majority Rights? White Christian? White Conservative?
For practically every cell of the Hard Right in this country you’ll find a separate definition of what the Movement is, as well as what the goal is and the methods for achieving that goal. Not to mention the identity of that “special person” to lead us onto that great destiny. Some of it gets pretty damned ridiculous which is why I stopped where I was in listing Movement “brand names” above. It is never my intent to offend anyone doing the best they can.
There are huge ideological and theoretical differences in these Movement groupings but because these are in the realm of thought and paperwork they are rendered as very slight when compared to the main tasks we each purport to undertake, and when compared to those fundamentals we definitely share in common.
The problem comes in when Movement people start thinking and acting as though there exists already some kind of pie to carve up, some bag of marbles to be taken home. Perhaps more than a few place much higher emphasis on giving the effect of doing something, instead of doing something in fact. A serious man will usually be found willing to work but a fun-seeker generally will refuse to be parted from his plaything.
I found part of the solution to this age-old problem we face in the pages of an issue of Pastor Miles’ From the Mountain. One good comrade. Rocky Suhayda, used the term “Resistance Movement” in reference to the pro-White, anti-Jewish struggle we all are involved in. This is a natural! It answers so many of the criteria left out by all other names for the overall Movement that I’ve heard of to date.
Most importantly, it isn’t “funky” and doesn’t reek of the useless, crappy Right Wingism which has practically made dirty words of “Nationalist”, “American”, and even “White”, when used in group names and Movement efforts. With “Resistance Movement” we eliminate any inference of divided loyalties and mixed priorities such as with “For God, Race, and Nation”. Most important of all, the name implies a kind of dead seriousness and strikes down the stupid, silly notion that somehow we are all “big wheels”, each vying for a piece of the political pie. It reduces the concept of the Movement to its most basic common denominator: Survival.
In two words—Resistance Movement—it poses to the intelligent mind most of the ultimate questions of the day: Resistance to what? What are the real forces in the land to be resisted? And what power is behind these forces? Which segment of the population is actually resisting; which are co-existing; and which are actually in support of these controlling forces?
At the quickest glance, any observer will see that we speak of the general anti-White drive afoot in every branch, at every level of “officialdom”, and they will know what it is we are resistant to: ZOG… the Zionist Occupation Government. They will know that we do not alternate between established political parties because the System, the Establishment, controls them ALL. He will see that we are resistant to the takeover of our government and our land by an enemy of our people. The term may not be the most original but it does provoke the right thought and it does fit the situation perfectly!
Furthermore, it is a term that each of us, without exception, should be freely able to identify with and wholeheartedly subscribe to. The better known “Resistance”, the one in France during the German Occupation, contained elements from the entire political spectrum, from Gaullists to Communists and back again. But they were united into the one purpose and they were very effective as any history of the French Resistance will reveal. None of our own elements in the present day are nearly so far apart as were many of those in France during the 1940’s.
Our similarities are greater, there is far more at stake, and the enemy today is the ultimate WORLD ENEMY. According to all this then, we should vastly out-do any efforts of the French Underground of the Second World War who were merely out to liberate their soil from the military presence of a White, Northern European neighbor—Germany. We are out to remove all trace of an alien presence wherever the White Race is found.
I hope this may provide some of the basis that must be hammered out toward the formation of a true, functioning Movement, and that we may freely repair to its common usage as we struggle to build this Movement while we yet have the spare time on our hands to do so…
Vol. XI, #4 – April, 1982

Order a copy of Siege (here)

Categories
WDH radio show

Podcasts in the language of Cervantes


The West’s Darkest Hour Radio Show has become bilingual. A brief podcast can be listened here. Since I talk in Spanish I won’t be advertising here future podcasts in that language. But Spanish-speaking visitors may find the links of future podcasts spoken in the language of Cervantes as I update the Addenda.

Categories
Amerindians Aztecs Day of Wrath (book) Pre-Columbian America

Day of Wrath, 7

The Feathered Serpent

 

 
The world’s most beautiful city
Bernal Díaz del Castillo would write in his memoirs about what he saw with his brothers in arms in route to Tenochtitlan when he was twenty-two years old:

And since we saw so many inhabited cities and towns on the water, and on solid ground other large towns, and that causeway so straight and leveled that went to Mexico-Tenochtitlan, we were wonder-stricken, and we said to each other that it all seemed like the enchantment tales of the Amadís book, for the great towers and Cues [temples] and edifices, that they have inside the water, and all of them the product of masonry work, and still some of our soldiers said if all of what they saw was dreamlike.

When the gloomy Luther hammered his theses on the Wittenberg’s gates, no man of the white race knew of the existence of another continent and of the most extensive power that Mesoamerica knew of: an empire that touched both oceans, the capital of which was inundated with light. And even in our times the enormous plaza that amazed Bernal Díaz is unknown because his comrades razed it in its entirety. Notwithstanding that after the conquest Rodrigo de Castañeda blamed Hernán Cortés for wanting to preserve the temples and its effigies, Mexico-Tenochtitlan was the object of a systematic vandalism. Not even one edifice remained standing in what today is Mexico City, something that reminds us what the Romans did in the Third Punic War: they did not leave stone upon stone in Carthage, and built a Roman city on its ruins. Not satisfied with that, after the physical devastation by the soldiers, Zumárraga burned the Mexica libraries. As an Aztec poem says:
We are to leave the beautiful songs
We are to leave the beautiful flowers

However, under New Spain’s edifices some unearthed footings have allowed modern architects to reconstruct how the ancient Indian city looked (see the pictorial reconstruction by architect Ignacio Marquina above), in addition to the descriptions of the captain of the conquistadors, who informs us that the streets of Tenochtitlan:

are very wide and straight, some of them, and all of the other are half of earth and the other half of water, through which they go in their canoes, and all the streets, from stretch to stretch, are opened through where water passes from the ones to the others, and in all of these openings, that some of them are very wide, there are bridges of very wide and large beams together and stout and well carved, and they are such that that ten horses, together eye to eye, can pass through many of them.

Cortés himself wrote to Carlos V that it was la más hermosa cosa del mundo (“the world’s most beautiful thing”). Much larger than Seville, the largest Spanish city of those times, three roads converged toward the center of the lacustrine city, uniting the island with the coast. “It is admirable to see how much reason they employ with all things,” wrote Cortés to the king. On the streets of a city that shone like a jewel of stone and water and sky, the dwellers used to go out “for a ride, some through the water on these boats and others on the land, and they go on conversing.”
Tenochtitlan was an object of admiration for its thirty palaces of reddish and porous rock, for its houses for upper-class people (according to conqueror Diego de Ordás, superior to those in Spain); its immense set of immaculate white houses and constructions decorated with bas-reliefs and stone sculptures (in contrast to other peoples who made them of clay), some statues even decorated with gold, feathers and animal skins; for its yellow macaw feathers; for its precious stones such as the green of the jade and the red of the garnets; for “its florid hymns in the Spring and the flower of the opened Nahua heart,” and because in that unwonted world, which had never been found a practical use for the wheel, thousands of canoes, the largest capable of transporting up to sixty Indians, converged every day in the lacustrine city.
The central plaza shown in the above image (in which place today there is a Zócalo infested with what in my previous book I called “the marabunta of Neanderthals”) took the form of a rectangle. The monuments were adorned with frescoes, lost forever after the collapse of the walls that sustained them, and besides the aqueduct there were fountains that burst forth form the soil of the central island. The palace of Nezahualcóyotl in Texcoco, a state that belonged to the triple alliance together with Tenochtitlan and Tlacopan, was fenced with more than two thousand trees. In addition to this palace, Nezahualcóyotl had gardens in other locations “with docks full of roses and flowers, and many fruits and rosebushes of the earth, and a pond of fresh water, and another thing to see: that in the flower and fruit garden the large canoes could enter from the lagoon through an opening they had made, without jumping on the ground, and everything very whitewashed and flashing, of many forms of stones and paintings on them that there was so much to ponder.” As in my childhood imaginings recounted in my previous book [a previous section of Hojas Susurrantes], the labyrinths and the artificial cascades of those gardens provided a fresh and invigorating environment.
We can imagine the impression that this world—totally apart from the known civilization—caused in the Europeans, who never ceased to be amazed at the richness of the iridescent clothing; the colors and drawings on the women’s attire with their bluish-purple hair dyed so that it shone, and the teeth stained black with cochineal; the clothing of the nobles decorated in polychromatic embroidery with drawings that represented hearts, and the showing off of necklaces of stings of jade, turquoise or enormous objects of diorite; wigs and jaguar skins, bracelets on the arms and ankles, or the simple “crowd of swarthy-skinned people under their white dresses.” The warriors painted their faces with stripes; others with yellow-ocher powder, spreading out the feet with copal ointments and tattooing their hands with schemes. It was a spectacle to see them around the emperor, the cloth banners and the immense adornments of gold and exquisitely cut quetzal feathers forming bouquets of a thousand colors; arts elaborated under a mosaic-like technique in sharp contrast to the blackish clothes of the priests with figures of skulls and human bones. How mistaken is the petrified image of Diego Rivera’s Anahuacalli Museum to convey the universe opened to the free, luminous and multicolor air of the Aztecs. But how accurate are Rivera’s own murals!
The palace of Moctezuma (which occupied the place where later would be constructed what today is the Palacio Nacional) also caused a stupor in the Europeans. Built with porous volcanic stone, it had more than a hundred bathrooms; walls covered with mosaics and roofs of precious woods; zoos and botanic gardens, pools and flower gardens. The wooden cages were in the charge of hundreds of men who attended the birds, wild cats, pumas, jaguars and coyotes; there were large ponds with herons, ducks, swans and an enormous collection of serpents. The zoo even had human freaks such as dwarfs and albinos.
The humble Nahua male who lived far from the Great Teocalli had so little time indoors and plenty of time outdoors, and when looking up from his chinampa he constantly saw “the silhouette of the pyramids and the blinding white of the edifices under the noonday sun.” (At present the footings of the Spanish buildings are full of pre-Hispanic stone and of the fragments of the bas-reliefs and the statues.) It could scarcely be said that there was profane art: practically all art was charged with religious content. Tlatelolco, the twin city of Mexico, had a plaza about the triple size of Salamanca. (From now on I will avoid the word “Aztec” which was not used until the 18th century. Instead I will use the original term “Mexicas,” without “n,” or alternatively “ancient Mexicans.”) The appearance of the Mexica capital was of a double city. The main commercial neighborhood “sparked with the shouting of the market’s sales people.” In Tlatelolco the great temple of Huitzilopochtli was impressive because there were no other temples around that cast any shadow on it.
Tenochtitlan was an amphibian city in the middle of “waters of flowers, waters of gold, waters of emerald,” a city in such a spaced architecture of the Valley of Mexico that it had as roof the sky, and as foundation the immense greenish-blue Texcoco lake. The quantity of gods of the Mexica pantheon was so large—of the principal deities alone there were about two hundred—that the chroniclers lost count. The terraces of the nobles were crowned with gardens. Moctezuma, who had many children with his wives and concubines, had three thousand servants in his palace. The Great Pyramid of Tenochtitlan or Teocalli, shown in the above illustration, rested upon a space of 100 meters long by 80 meters wide, and it was 60 meters high. The façade began with great serpent heads, and on the platform statues supported the banners that were displayed at the celebrations. The pyramid was completely surrounded by serpent heads, which formed a fortified outer wall of approximately 400 meters long, with four doors. The two shrines, inhabited by the Tláloc-Huitzilopochtli duality, were painted: one white and blue on the north side, the other white and red on the south side. The last one was embellished with engraved skulls and battlements with the form of butterflies. To defend the temple of Huitzilopochtli was considered one of the duties of the sovereigns. Sun and rain, Huitzilopochtli and Tláloc, were the legacy of the Tenochcas: nomad warriors and sedentary Mexicas. The shrines that crowned the truncated pyramid were tight but high enclosures, which sheltered a pair of three-meter statues of these gods. The crested roofs imitated the Maya temples, and conveyed the visual effect of higher altitude. (It is remarkable that on the other side of the Atlantic a very similar structure, the Ziggurat, had been common in the Chaldean and Babylonian temples: cultures that Julian Jaynes also called bicameral kingdoms.)
The ancient Mexicans gladly detached from themselves their best art: burying animals, feathers, flowers, insects, treasures, and even human beings as offerings to the deities. The temples themselves were an immense offering loaded inside with the remains of these sacrifices that remained trapped each time that the edifice was reconstructed. The Great Pyramid of Tenochtitlan, or Templo Mayor as it is called today, was reconstructed several times. Just as the Teotihuacan and Maya temples, it possessed several layers, one above the other like Russian nested dolls. When the Spaniards destroyed the temple they found that its entrails hid innumerable jewels of gold, precious stones and bones that had remained enclosed as an offering. Inside this pyramid was also located the military theocratic school for the education of the elite of the Mexica boys. Drawn using a perfect arithmetic that reminds us of Teotihuacan, in front of the Great Pyramid the temple of Quetzalcoatl looked special, the only circular edifice of the great plaza, and on one of the Great Pyramid’s sides, the pyramid of Tezcatlipoca. Around the temples there were annexes for worship such as the tzompantli full of decapitated human heads, many of them decomposed until they turned into skulls, artistically placed in horizontal order. The houses of the Indian chiefs were enormous constructions of wood. The largest rooms were more than thirty meters long and thirty meters wide.
It is curious that my imaginings when taking a bath in my house of San Lorenzo, as recounted in my previous book [I was seven years old], had a counterpart in the reality of the past. It is true that in those imaginings I did not visualize the resonating drums or the reddish homes of the temples, if we consider that in Tenochtitlan mostly percussion instruments were used. But something of these dances and collective intoxication, a catharsis of something recondite in the Nahua soul, reached the mind of the child I was then. (Many have listened to the group of children, myself included, playing the vertical drum called huéhuetl thanks to a commercial recording made when I studied in the musical method of my father: a man passionate for the native folklore.) The great dance celebrated at the bottom level of the pyramids lasted hours under the light of huge braziers deep in the night. Dances started at the hiding of the sun amidst the sound of the flutes (precisely what I imagined hearing when I was a child), the drums of the temples, and the flames of the enormous tripods burning woods. Nothing was more important, writes Jacques Soustelle, than these songs and dances for the ancient Mexicans.
Nothing of my name will some day be?
Nothing of my fame on earth?
At least the flowers, at least the songs!

 
___________
The objective of the book is to present to the racialist community my philosophy of The Four Words on how to eliminate all unnecessary suffering. If life allows, next time I will reproduce the section on the dark side of the Aztecs. Those interested in obtaining a copy of Day of Wrath can request it: here.