Tom Goodrich (1947-2024)
Without having read Hellstorm, the darkest hour for the white race will never be understood (book-review here). If you’ve already read it, check out ‘The Wall’.
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Dante
Like Cervantes and Goethe, Dante (1265-1321) was a ‘man of his time’, so much so that he was prior of Florence, i.e. one of its senators. So to understand the poet we must contextualise him in the Middle Ages.
In the century in which Dante was born, another Italian who would greatly influence Western civilisation, St Francis, whom my father taught me to admire in my adolescence, had founded an order of mendicant friars. On one occasion, speaking of the saint of Assisi, my father mentioned that in one town he had cast out demons. There are still people who believe that. My mother told an anecdote about some nuns in Coyoacán who said to her that the devil made noises in the convent, but that they laughed because they knew he wasn’t going to tempt them. My mother said this not as the nuns’ hallucination: she accepted their demonological interpretation of the noises.
Francis exorcises the demons at Arezzo, fresco by Giotto.
When Francis died, Thomas Aquinas was born, the Italian who fixed the doctrine of the Catholic Church to the extent that one pope called his theological legacy aeternis patris. We can already imagine Voltaire’s mockery of Aquinas in his Philosophical Dictionary. But from the point of view of the priest of the sacred words—a fancy way of referring to a contemporary National Socialist—Voltairean sarcasm is of little use if the Enlightenment bequeathed us the universal declaration of human rights: neochristianity. But let’s take it one step at a time.
In my article on Cervantes, I asked what was the point of the Golden Age of Castilian letters if the Church didn’t allow them to write freely. In Dante’s time there was already the University of Bologna, but what happened when someone wanted to philosophise free of the theological yoke? When Francis was alive, in Paris in 1210, several readers of Aristotle had concluded that there was no life after death. We can imagine how such ‘heresy’ would affect the control of the European population through the spiritual terror—fear of damnation—with which the Church controlled them. The reaction of the bishop of the city was not long in coming. Ten of the freethinkers were burned at the stake: a ‘hard totalitarianism’ compared to the ‘soft totalitarianism’ of today. (Nowadays they no longer burn the heretic, they only imprison him. Recall that two men who have commented on this site, Tyrone Joseph Walsh and Christopher Gibbons, are serving years in the UK for thoughtcrimes).
By Dante’s time, however, banking and the power of emperors were beginning to emerge, acting as counterweights to the once all-powerful Church, although Pope Boniface VIII tried to bring down that counterweight in Italy. Florence in particular felt the renaissance of the age: its arts were revived in that city with its characteristic tower houses, such as the one in the illustration above (even the tourist of our century can still appreciate something of the medieval air in some Florentine quarters).
Let us recall, in our abridgement of Karlheinz Deschner’s book, how the Church acted as the lobotomist of the Greco-Roman man since Constantine. Here we will only focus on one more example. Due to the translations of Aristotle and Galen, ancient medicine was already becoming accessible. But when, at the end of Dante’s life, a certain Mondino de Liuzzi began to dissect corpses, he came up against ecclesiastical authority. Pietro d’Abano, an illustrious physician, was even persecuted by the Inquisition and, after his death, his body was burned at the stake.
Fides (Faith) by Giotto. In the Middle Ages, Faith had the Aryan mind chained.
And the ‘men against their time’? In a world of hard totalitarianism they simply couldn’t flourish, although we must mention the English Franciscan Roger Bacon (1214-1292), who despite being persecuted attributed a new meaning to natural science and mathematics, which in centuries to come would become the foundation of experimental research. Nor should we fail to mention the Scotsman Duns Scotus (1263-1308), the only intellectual to question the doctrine of eternal damnation in a thousand years of Christendom! But this was the same century in which the Dominican order was founded: an order of learned theologians who were trained to fight the doctrines that the Newspeak of the time called ‘heretical’ (the term for social ostracism which in medieval times was equivalent to the ‘racist’ of our days). From this order came some of the greatest exponents of medieval thought, such as Aquinas.
The Militant Church and the Triumph of the Dominicans, fresco by Andrea Bonaiuti in Florence.
Parallel to this orthodoxy that forced an iron faith on the white man, a ‘little renaissance’ emerged at the time when Dante flourished. The liberal arts such as grammar and rhetoric, or geometry, music and astronomy (or rather astrology) were following their course. Secular music in particular, including troubadour music, moved away from Gregorian chant while retaining a liturgical stamp. Frederick II of Swabia encouraged intense cultural activity.
Compared to our ‘Empire of the yin’ in the 21st century West, the Aryan psyche, specifically the Italian one, was extremely quarrelsome. In paintings we can see crenellated city walls with men at arms. The clashing of swords was an almost daily occurrence in the tumultuous life of the communes. This balance between Yang and yin, militia and arts, also existed in Hitler’s Germany but unlike medieval society was on the verge of breaking with the Christian Era (and would have broken with it for the good had it not been for Anglo-American intervention).
Beatrice
Con Beatrice m’era m’suso in cielo
(With Beatrice I was enclosed in heaven).
Dante first met Beatrice in 1274, but it was not until 1283 that he received his first greeting from the lady, who died in 1290, the year Giotto painted the Cross of Santa Maria Novella. A quarter of a century after the death of his platonic love he began the Inferno, although he wrote the Divine Comedy in many different places during his troubled life. At the age of fifty-six, Dante died poor in Ravenna, but his poem was a spectacular success after his death. Only Renaissance ideals and the new tastes they brought would cause Dante’s fame to eclipse. The 19th century, despite its infatuation with the Middle Ages, was heir to this contempt for scholasticism and its theology.
The Comedy transports us, first, to an underground journey, then to the ascent of the mountain where sins are being purged, and finally to an interplanetary flight. Many years ago a friend I knew in a chess park gave me, in three volumes, the best translation of the Comedy into our native language. I lent the first volume, the one on hell, to a girlfriend of my brother’s who was studying Italian but she never returned it to me. I have only a few scraps left of the book of the Purgatorio and only the one on Paradiso I keep in its entirety.
The opening lines of the first song, which can be seen in this codex, are still the most famous: ‘Midway upon the journey of our life / I found myself within a forest dark / For the straightforward pathway had been lost’. In my books I have used them to describe how I was for decades after the tragedy of my adolescence which left me without a career, without a job and—for reasons confessed in those books—without a partner. Being lost in a dark forest is a splendid metaphor for how I was before a Beatrice rescued me: the books of Alice Miller on parental abuse, with whom I got to correspond before she died.
Before a Beatrice appeared in my life, at least on an intellectual level, I had tried to get out of the forest through neochristianity, specifically, a religious movement (‘Eschatology’) that emerged in the previous century, inspired by the New Testament: a movement I have already discussed on pages 11-26 of Daybreak. The medieval universe in which my father lived is evident in an anecdote from the early 1980s.
We were having a Sunday lunch at home with Uncle Beto when, for some reason, Eschatology came into the conversation. To scold me publicly my father, a traditional Catholic, alluded to a passage in the Inferno in which Dante had put heretics (Eschatology was schismatic, outside the Catholic Church) in a place where they were quartered. My father imitated with his hands a sort of scythe wielded by a devil to dismember them, in the belief that these heretics had ‘dismembered the Church’. There are many other symbolic passages in the Inferno, such as the twisted landscape and the twisted bodies in the jungle of the suicides (admirably recreated by Doré centuries later).
With apologies to the vox populi, it is a mistake to read the Inferno and stop there. For Salvatore Battaglia, ‘among the three cantigas of the Poem, this one of Purgatorio represents the most truthful presentation of the human condition’. The middle book is flanked by the books of the damned and the blessed. Purgatorio is the realm of poetry, and in my opinion, given that publishing a book in the vernacular language questioning the existence of hell was impossible in the Middle Ages, beauty was the most direct form of therapy against the fear of damnation, while the poet sublimates it in art and the dogma is no longer felt as it was before: it is ‘weathered’ with sublime lyricism (for example, each of the three books ends with the word stelle, stars). As a counterpoint, on 30 December 1995 I made a note in my copy:
I have barely read the summary and I think that the whole Dantean Comedy is bullshit. Why on earth build a beautiful cathedral on false principles? In other words, even supposing it is true what Octavio Paz says, that Dante is the poet of our Age, that is beside the point: what pisses me off is that the poet believed the Christian worldview. A contemporary of his, Duns Scotus, questioned the most psychotic doctrine of the universe; so there is no excuse ‘that at that time it couldn´t be broken’.
The Comedy is a triptych. In the final book, with Beatrice and Dante flying from planet to planet, the traveller enters from heaven to heaven, passing through the sky of Mars and then Saturn. There are very old paintings reflecting these Dantean passages. At the end he arrives at the empyrean, in the centre of which the poet looks face to face with the greatest of mysteries. In reality, this deity is ultimately the god of the Jews and what I wrote thirty years ago still holds: the freethinker cannot bear to be enraptured by the worldview of the Dark Ages.
Avete il Novo e ‘l Vecchio Testamento
e ‘l pastor della Chiesa che vi guida:
questo vi basti a vostro salvamento.
You have the New, the Old Testament
And the pastor of the Church is your guide:
This is enough to your salvation.
And even worse:
ond’ei credette in quella, e non sofferse
da indi il puzzo più del paganesmo;
e riprendíene le genti perverse.
that’s why he believed in her, and didn’t suffer from
the pestilence of paganism,
and reproved the wicked people.
This last passage appears in the song to the Heaven VI, where Dante speaks to those he considers to be righteous spirits. Obviously, the apologists of Christian doctrine had to reside in Dantean heaven.
Sometimes coffee conversations with friends are more profound than the musings of scholars. Many years ago the poet Carlos Mongar remarked to me that, much better than having written the Comedy, Dante would have had Beatrice in his arms and, in sexual intercourse, subject her ‘to the ultimate desecration’ implying that the lady would have been delighted to be possessed / desecrated by a Dante who would never have felt the need to become a poet.
Let us remember what happened to so many Werthers in real life. How many Christian prose and poetry would the white man have been spared if so many young men hadn’t been prevented by circumstances from marrying and procreating as the Gods command?
In the article on Goethe I also quoted an Austrian biographer who said that the most profound level of literary art is autobiography in which the artist betrays himself by daring to confess the truth about his life. Let us betray ourselves a little and confess that, precisely because the tragedy of my adolescence affected me to the extent that I was never able to hold a real Beatrice in my arms, I idealised the eternal feminine and that is what moves me to write.
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Goethe
If Cervantes seems to be the central figure of Spanish literature, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe appears to be the central figure of German literature.
Goethe’s most famous work is Faust, one of the great works of world literature. Its plot reminds us of Satan’s wager with the god of the Jews in the Book of Job. In Goethe’s novel, Mephistopheles makes a pact with God: he says he can divert God’s favourite human being (Faust), striving to learn everything that can be known, away from moral purposes. It also reminds me of the plot of Wagner’s Tannhauser. I have already said on this site that when I first saw the opera I was disappointed because it put Christianity triumphing over paganism (the Virgin Mary over the Goddess Venus). Cervantes and Shakespeare didn’t play into the hands of the Church, and neither did Goethe. But it is clear that like Wagner they never escaped Christian mythology.
I would not like to focus on Goethe’s masterpiece but on what was, at the time, the most popular: The Sorrows of Young Werther (Die Leiden des jungen Werthers): a semi-autobiographical epistolary novel. Considered the book that initiated Romanticism, it brought the young Goethe worldwide fame.
The main character of the novel, Werther, is a sensitive and passionate young man who falls madly in love with Charlotte. In real life, Goethe had fallen in love with a young woman named Charlotte (and in real life, in Manchester, I myself fell in love with a Charlotte who never returned my love!).
So influential was that novel, which Goethe had written in his early twenties, that towards the end of his life travelling to Weimar and visiting the master of German literature was a ritual. In one of his writings Goethe himself mentioned that his youthful suffering was partly the inspiration for the creation of the novel, although unlike the novelist Werther takes his own life at the moment when the midnight bells ring in Wahlheim. Most of the visitors he had in his old age had only read this book and only knew the writer from this novel among all those he wrote! It was very clear what a great impact The Sorrows of Young Werther had on young people in love and depressed.
I wonder what subliminal clues Werther had that a whole generation of young Europeans caught that fever to the point of dressing like the character: with a yellow vest, blue jacket and brown boots. Even some two thousand young Europeans took their own lives! ‘The bullet had entered above the right eye, blowing out the brains’ I read on the penultimate page of the copy of the novel I own. So much did the novel in the form of an epistle catch fire to Europe, that the small town where the fictional events took place became a sort of place of pilgrimage. Napoleon himself acknowledged the impact that reading Werther had had on him.
Already in the 20th century my mother confessed to me that in her early teens this book had made a great impression on her. In my previous article I said that almost all the literary content of the Spanish writers of the Golden Age tasted rancid to me. It is curious to mention what I wrote some years ago on the inside back cover of my copy of Werther (my translation):
Wow!
I barely read the first few words of the book and couldn’t continue. I’d have to see a German film of the novel—if there is one. What matters is that they were committing suicide because ‘In those days parents didn´t listen to their children’, [the words of] Mom.
She didn’t tell me that in relation to Werther, but to a bitter experience she had when she was taken as a child to see The Blue Bird on the big screen: the only occasion, in her entire life, when an indirect criticism of either of her parents came out.
To be frank, I don’t think a teenager who has been treated well by his parents would be capable of committing suicide just because of a love setback. There must something wrong in the lad’s psyche, but to find out we have to dynamite the taboos of the age whose Judeo-Christian commandment to honour the parent has deeply permeated the secular world (Alice Miller has written on this secularization in The Body Never Lies).
That’s why this kind of old literature tastes rancid. Unlike not only the times of Goethe, but the times of my mother (who must have been a little girl when the translated The Blue Bird was released in the country), in this era it is already possible to speak crudely about how we were mistreated at home. So, if the least direct criticism of her parents never came out of my mother’s mouth except for the above quote (which came out indirectly when she was already an old woman), we can imagine on whom she unloaded her pent-up anger. All this has to do with Werther precisely because of the literary genre that I would like people like Benjamin Power and myself to inaugurate.
The following seven paragraphs I had already posted on this site in January 2015 under the heading ‘New Literary Genre’, but they are worth quoting again:
Stefan Zweig wrote in Adepts in Self-Portraiture that when Western literature began with Hesiod and Heraclitus it was still poetry, and of the inevitability of a decline in the mythopoetic talent of Greece when a more Aristotelian thought evolved. As compensation for this loss, says Zweig, modern man obtained with the novel an approach to a science of the mind. But the novel genre doesn’t represent the ultimate degree of self-knowledge:
Autobiography is the hardest of all forms of literary art. Why, then, do new aspirants, generation after generation, try to solve this almost insoluble problem?
[For a] honest autobiography […] he must have a combination of qualities which will hardly be found once in a million instances. To expect perfect sincerity on self-portraiture would be as absurd as to expect absolute justice, freedom, and perfection here on earth. No doubt the pseudo-confession, as Goethe called it, confession under the rose, in the diaphanous veil of novel or poem, is much easier, and is often far more convincing from the artistic point of view, than an account with no assumption of reserve. Autobiography, precisely because it requires not truth alone, but naked truth, demands from the artist an act of peculiar heroism; for the autobiographer must play the traitor to himself.
Only a ripe artist, one thoroughly acquainted with the workings of the mind, can be successful here. This is why psychological self-portraiture has appeared so late among the arts, belonging exclusively to our own days and those yet to come. Man had to discover continents, to fathom his seas, to learn his language, before he could turn his gaze inward to explore the universe of his soul. Classical antiquity had as yet no inkling of these mysterious paths. Caesar and Plutarch, the ancients who describe themselves, are content to deal with facts, with circumstantial happenings, and never dream of showing more than the surface of their hearts.
Zweig then devotes a long paragraph to St Augustine’s Confessions, the thinker I abhor the most of all Western tradition and whose theology about Hell caused massive psychological damage in my own life (see Hojas Susurrantes). Then he wrote:
Many centuries were to pass before Rousseau (that remarkable man who was a pioneer in so many fields) was to draw a self-portrait for its own sake, and was to be amazed and startled at the novelty of his enterprise. Stendhal, Hebbel, Kierkegaard, Tolstoy, Amiel, the intrepid Hans Jaeger, have disclosed unsuspected realms of self-knowledge by self-portraiture. Their successors, provided with more delicate implements of research, will be able to penetrate stratum by stratum, room by room, farther and yet farther into our new universe, into the depths of the human mind.
This quote explains why I decided to devise a hybrid genre between the self-portraiture that betrays the author and thus penetrates beyond the strata pondered by Romantic autobiographers. And it is precisely because of this that, if we have tried to reach this level, the previous stages of confessional literature already seem rancid to us, Werther included: they don’t get to the heart of the matter.
That said, there are a few biographical vignettes about Goethe that I wouldn’t want to overlook. For example, he dearly loved his sister Cornelia, the only surviving of his siblings (I will allude to this below in the context of Goethe’s own children).
Johann Kaspar, Goethe’s father had been a well-to-do scholar, and the letters of Katharina Elizabeth, his mother are quite readable. Goethe studied in Leipzig in enviable times when machine noises weren’t yet audible (I write this over the intolerable sound of air conditioning given the temperature outside my study):
A similar image could be added about Weimar, where Goethe took up residence after the publication of Werther. It was in the old Weimar court theatre that the first Goethean dramas, that he directed for a quarter of a century, were presented.
The trip to beautiful Italy had been pivotal in Goethe’s education. In the image above we see Goethe at the window of his home in Rome, a drawing by Tischbein. It was a time when St. Peter’s stood as the tallest building in the city. As I have said, it is impossible for a ‘man of his time’ not to be influenced by these architectural realities. And Goethe was, like Dante, Cervantes and Shakespeare, a man of his time. Only Nietzsche would rebel against the Christian era, but this is another matter altogether.
Goethe even visited Sicily. I, who like Nietzsche am a premature birth of a future not yet verified, when I travel to Europe I notice the purity of the Aryan in the faces (let’s say: the difference between the Italian near Switzerland and the Sicilian). As a man of his time Goethe noticed other things. On January 25, 1788 he wrote to a duke: ‘The great scenes of nature opened my mind and took away my wrinkles; I created for myself an opinion on the value of landscape painting, and saw Claude Lorrain and Poussin with different eyes; with Hackert, who came to Rome, I spent fourteen days in Tivoli’.
I am intrigued that Goethe’s wife Christiane, whom he had married in 1806, had five children with him of whom only the first survived. It reminds me of what Lloyd deMause wrote in several of his books: at that time babies died mainly from maternal neglect.
The surviving August not only had to live in his father’s shadow, but he died two years before Goethe did! I wonder how he was treated by his father: a kind of question that conventional biographers would never ask. From my point of view, that of the new literary genre, that question is more vital than, say, writing about the friendship between Goethe and the poet Schiller (when the latter died, Goethe felt deprived of the one person to whom he had recognised equal intellectual value). I would prefer to know, of the four children who died of undetermined causes a few days after their births, which reminds me of Goethe’s missing siblings, how were those babies treated?
Another fact that reflects that I am not a man of my time is that one of Goethe’s late inspirational women was the nineteen-year-old Ulrike, who was so afraid of sexual intercourse that she would become canonical: something unthinkable in the Aryan state I imagine, where women will have as much obligation to procreate as men to fight ethnocidal wars (like Hitler’s Master Plan East).
Incidentally, it was some words from Faust that inspired me in a phrase that in years past I have posted on this site: Only the eternal feminine leads to the Absolute.
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Cervantes
I wouldn’t like to start talking about Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra without saying something about my previous post, ‘Lebensborn’.
See my recent exchange with Greg Johnson (screenshot here). In his podcast with Joel Davis, Johnson mentioned the term ‘unnecessary suffering’ to substantiate why he rejects Nazism. Since my sacred words are Eliminate all unnecessary suffering, as can be seen in my latest books which I will translate, I feel compelled to clarify this point.
The sufferings that the Third Reich inflicted on many Caucasoids were necessary, not unnecessary. It is impossible to conquer an entire continent for the pure Aryan—think of Eduardo Velasco’s essay on the Heartland—without inflicting suffering on the ancient aborigines. If the normie Matt Walsh was recently able to glorify the Anglo-Saxon conquest of America to the detriment of the indigenous, why not also glorify the plans to conquer the Heartland for the pure Aryan? If the sufferings of the Amerindians were necessary for the creation of the US, why not see that the sufferings of the ‘half-gook’, as Maurice calls them, were also necessary? After all, the Anglo-Saxon’s intervention to abort Hitler’s Master Plan East has been so catastrophic that the white man is likely to become extinct!
As my books have yet to be translated, the distinction between necessary suffering and unnecessary suffering is unclear. But the axiological gulf that separates me from white nationalists might be better understood if I were to begin to offer my views on the protagonists of Christian civilisation. And since I have dedicated myself to writing in Spanish, what better than to begin with the author of Don Quixote?
Cervantes at the battle of Lepanto, by Augusto Ferrer-Dalmau.
Unlike me—an obscure writer who except for the warm opinions of some visitors living in other countries lives in almost absolute isolation—, Cervantes was a man of his time; so much so that in the neighbourhood of Madrid where he lived other great writers of the time such as Lope de Vega and Quevedo resided. But to understand the writers of the so-called golden age of Spanish literature, it is necessary to contextualize them in their historical moment.
The maximum aspiration of Charles V was to create a Catholic empire: a dream that could never be fulfilled because in his dominions the germ of the Protestant rupture was born. And something similar could be said of Philip II, who tried to make England bend the knee before Rome.
Although of my middle and high school teachers, the only one I remember with respect is Soledad Anaya Solórzano, my literature teacher (who was also the teacher of Octavio Paz, Nobel Prize winner in literature), I confess that despite being high culture, I reject Spanish literature including its classics.
The reason is simple. No one in Spanish literature has challenged the dogma. Exceptions like Eduardo Velasco are exceptions that confirm the rule (and had it not been for me, his work in the blogosphere would have been lost after his death). Why should we admire a literature that, although magnificent in form, has been unable to escape the Christian / neochristian matrix? Let’s recall one of the essays on this site in which the German Albus said that the first great genius to compose degenerate music was Johann Sebastian Bach (see e.g., pages 149-155 of Daybreak). Of course, this criticism could be extended to many other protagonists of Christian civilisation: since it was written by ‘men of their time’, the most popular European and Western literature never question the paradigm in turn.
It is true that, like Shakespeare, Cervantes didn’t play into the hands of the Church and from that point of view their secularized literary output in an era of religious intolerance had its value. But in this age, which requires fanatic priests to unplug whites from the matrix that destroys them, it is literature that already tastes rancid to us. Moreover, there were contemporaries of Cervantes who did play into the hands of the Church. The moralizing content of Mateo Alemán’s work, for example, was ideologically in line with the spirit of the Counter-Reformation; and let’s not even talk about the mystical painting of El Greco.
To give a very obvious example. Neither Cervantes nor other so-called giants of the Spanish Golden Age could have criticised the Church in times when it was celebrating autos de Fe. Throughout the 16th century the Inquisition acted with increasing harshness to repress any outbreak of the so-called Protestant heresy. Those condemned to death were publicly burned alive in an auto de Fe, and there was clemency only in case of recantation, when they were executed by garrote before being burned.
From the POV of the sacred words, which includes not only the 4 words but the 14 words, what real value can literature from ‘men of their time’ have, to use Savitri Devi’s expression?
Philip II, King of Spain when Cervantes was alive, with his son contemplating an auto de Fe in Valladolid in which members of the newly discovered Protestant communities of Seville and Valladolid were burned.
What do I gain by reading Lope de Vega, the ‘monster of nature’ as Cervantes called him due to his abundant literary production, if due to circumstances he was unable to criticise the burning of Protestants in Valladolid? In other words: if someone fights the current paradigm, he also fights his art, be it Lope’s or Bach’s. Although we cannot blame the artist for his circumstances—in the 1590 edition of Cervantes’ first novel we can read on the title page Impresa con licencia de la Santa Inquisición (Printed with license from the Holy Inquisition)—the priest of the sacred words sees little, if any, value coming from the pens of artists whose minds were chained to the worldview of the time.
The Spanish Visigoths had begun to interbreed since the 7th century (see William Pierce’s Who We Are). Compared to the already mixed ethnicity of the Spanish a thousand years later, only the defeat of the Invincible Armada by Elizabeth’s England tipped the balance to a more Aryan side of Europe. Although the English were also infected with Christian ethics and capable of bringing mixed couples to the marriage altar, by the time of Cervantes and Shakespeare their ‘ethics’ hadn’t metastasized to the incredible anti-white levels we see in today’s UK.
In this new series I will be talking about other protagonists of the Christian civilisation from the point of view of the contemporary priest of the sacred words (in plain English, National Socialism after 1945).
Categories
Lebensborn
‘If we could establish the Nordic race and, from this seedbed, produce a race of 200 million, the world would be ours.’ —Himmler
In heated debates, many commenters on racialist forums continue to discuss Hitler and National Socialism these days, including Greg Johnson (e.g., here).
One of the most recurring themes of Hitler’s critics has been the way the Germans treated the Slavs in WW2. I am enormously struck by the fact that none of them have been able to point out the obvious. It was perfectly natural and laudable that Himmler and his people, who had some Norwegian villages as an almost perfect paradigm of the Aryan, wanted to Aryanise the occupied territories of those who had suffered miscegenation due to the continuous Asian invasions.
Concerned about this issue, while walking through a beautiful little English village I once asked historian Arthur Kemp, author of a book on the history of the white race, a naive question. I asked him what percentage of Russians would be mixed. I say naive as it is obvious that they are already all more mixed than the purest Nordics—the paradigm with which Himmler and his ilk wanted to populate Europe, beautifully portrayed by the American Maxfield Parrish whose paintings now hang on the walls of my studio.
As we said in my anthology ‘On Exterminationism’, a few months after its founding, Himmler’s Lebensborn project opened Heim Hochland, the first home for pregnant women. For this purpose, the National Socialists took over the construction of a Catholic orphanage in Munich. Initially, the institution could accommodate up to thirty mothers and fifty-five children, and the candidates were carefully selected. Only women who met the characteristics of the dominant race were admitted. Candidates had their skulls measured, and only those with the coveted elongated skull, typical of the Nordic type, could be admitted. They also had to meet other requirements, such as blond hair, blue or green eyes and good health. Those who passed the test received the best care.
This fact, that due to the brutal Asian invasions the Slavs’ bloodline was already more compromised than the specimens chosen by Himmler and the SS to repopulate the conquered territories, is completely overlooked by all these critics of Hitler. They overlook it because of their Christian ethics and the mandate of universal brotherhood, so they see all Caucasoids (except Jews) as brothers. It is surreal to admit, but only someone who is not an Aryan, such as myself, has been able to point this fact out over the years in my disputes with white nationalists.
The thing to do is to applaud Hitler’s plans, including his Master Plan East, and only criticise him militarily (easy to say now: he should’ve waited until he had the atomic bomb before venturing into Operation Barbarossa).
What I say in ‘The Wall’ stands, which is why it remains and will remain the featured post of The West’s Darkest Hour. An axiological wall separates National Socialists from white nationalists and very few Americans have crossed it. William Pierce was one of them but it is a wall that very few racialists are, now, willing to cross.
There is something I have perceived and have already said but it is worth reiterating.
In my experience on this site, thanks to the emails sent to me by the more radical commenters I have noticed that only those who were martyred as children or teenagers by their parents have been able to truly break with the values of today’s West. It is difficult to visualize it if you don’t read the autobiography of one of them. But for the sake of understanding I will use an analogy.
Only people like Solzhenitsyn, who suffered years in the Gulag, broke with the ideology of the Soviet state to the extent that, already a refugee in the US, he wanted that state to be destroyed. We can already imagine nationalist Russians in Brezhnev’s time! Despite Stalin’s crimes, it would be unthinkable for them to wish for such a thing because, unlike Solzhenitsyn, they didn’t suffer the horrors of the Gulag.
Only intense suffering makes one break with the paradigm in turn, although I recognise that suffering resulting from parental abuse annihilates psychically almost everyone. That is why I must translate my books into English, something I will restart now that I am beginning to settle down after a very calamitous move.
Categories
What
does not work
HISTORICALLY, ethnic nationalism — both the conscious type, which first flowered in Europe in the 19th century, and the unconscious, natural type which has been around among all races since time immemorial — has been tried again and again, hundreds of times, nay, thousands of times throughout history. It is no strong proof against the dangers of miscegenation, or mercantile empire which usually leads to multiculturalism and multiracialism and ultimately miscegenation. It has failed again and again to prevent Jewish infiltration and domination, which are death sentences for any people which tolerate them. In short, ethnic nationalism alone is not enough. It has been tried and it has failed. For a cumulative total of a thousand years and more, it has utterly failed to prevent the existential plight in which the White race finds itself today. Ethnic nationalism on its own is the quintessence of what does not work.
But National Socialism did not fail. That is why it is vilified by our enemies. True, it was defeated in a war — I say a battle in a war that is not yet over [emphasis by Editor]. But, barring war, its trajectory was perfect. In just twelve years: A nation, freed from Jewish usury and destructive influence. A nation, determined to preserve its Aryan racial heritage and carry it, progressively, into the infinite future. A nation, broken free from ossified and dangerous hereditary aristocracy, and broken free from even more dangerous mass “democracy.” A nation, freed from hostile alien media. A nation, freed from the twin evils of international Communism and international banking. A nation, ultimately forged in war as the vanguard and protector of the entire European race. A nation whose titanic sacrifice and immolation at the hands of Jewish power may one day — if we do right — become an element of a religion [emphasis by Editor] which will inspire our people to protect and defend forever our sacred race against all dangers.
It was tried for just twelve years. You could say National Socialism hasn’t really been tried yet, not fully. But in those twelve years, it was the most positive revolutionary force ever seen on this planet. It shows every prospect of success if it can capture the imaginations of enough of our people and become established again. And our enemies certainly know that — that is why they do everything they can, constantly, to prevent its resurgence. And today, buttressed by William Pierce’s discovery of and elaboration of Cosmotheism, it would be even more powerful, being even more imbued with the spiritual essence and Life of our people.
Plain vanilla “ethnic nationalism” equals a thousand years of failure (which fails in the long term even when it “succeeds”; look at Ireland today); that’s the ethnic nationalism of Keith Woods, who wrote a recent article suggesting that nationalists should abandon National Socialism (see the critique of his approach here by Daniel Zakal) — and that failure is embodied in every other White man who refuses the hand of Providence offered by Adolf Hitler and his new creed. An entirely new race-based creed and spiritual outlook to replace the failed and outworn creeds of Christianity and democracy; with great prospects of success — that’s what National Socialism promises.
The triumph of race-based, deeply spiritual, National Socialism means the eternal existence of our race, the total reorientation of society toward racial progress, and the achievement of our cosmic destiny. The triumph of plain-vanilla “ethnic nationalism” means “business as usual” leadership from figures only faintly more race-oriented than Geert Wilders, Nigel Farage, and Vladimir Zelensky — and probably significant compromises with such figures. That’s a huge difference.
I wrote of this in my program “A New Religion for Us,” highlighting the spiritual and philosophical depth of National Socialism, which sets it so much higher than the emptiness of mere “ethnic nationalism,” which nearly always merely holds on to whatever creed happens to be popular at the moment — and which today would surely cling to Abrahamic Jew-centered nonsense, as well as holding on to so-called “democracy.” The triumph of such a “nationalism” would get us almost nowhere. I wrote:
With profounder ideals and a stronger will than any other leadership structure of any other society for thousands of years at least, Germany ultimately sought to spiritually shepherd the unique expression of the Life Force and the growing consciousness that is our race through the dangers of the 20th century and beyond. Those dangers include 1) being trapped in an earth-bound Semitic creed designed to ensnare us in universalism, weakness, and worship of our enemies; 2) rejecting that Semitic creed in favor of an atheistic materialism and individualism that destroys our ability to grow and act as a natural biological and spiritual community; and 3) rejecting that Semitic creed in favor of the equally alien, spiritually empty, and equally debilitating equalitarian creed of Marxism.
National Socialism, especially when coupled with a strengthened spiritual aspect that has developed since 1945, saves us from those three dangers.
Savitri Devi wrote of National Socialism as a new life-affirming faith while she was imprisoned for her beliefs after the war:
And Hitler’s words about Christianity, reported by Rauschning in the fourth chapter of his book, would be admired — not criticised — in an Aryan world endowed with a consistently National Socialist consciousness, for they are in keeping with our spirit — and ring too true not to be authentic. [Even though parts of his book were surely forged in an effort to harm Germany and Hitler. — K.A.S.] “Leave the hair-splitting to others,” said the Führer to Hermann Rauschning before the latter turned renegade:
“Whether it is the Old Testament or the New, or simply the sayings of Jesus according to Houston Stewart Chamberlain, it is all the same Jewish swindle. It will not make us free. A German Church, a German Christianity, is a distortion. One is either a German or a Christian. You cannot be both. You can throw the epileptic Paul out of Christianity — others have done so before us. You can make Christ into a noble human being, and deny his divinity and his rôle as a saviour. People have been doing it for centuries. I believe there are such Christians today in England and America — Unitarians, they call themselves, or something like that. It is no use. You cannot get rid of the mentality behind it. We do not want people to keep one eye on life in the hereafter. We need free men, who feel and know that God is in themselves.”
Indeed, however clever he might have been, Rauschning was not the man to concoct this discourse out of pure imagination. As many other statements attributed to the Führer in his book, this one bears too strongly the stamp of sincerity, of faith — of truth — to be just an invention. Moreover, it fits in perfectly with many of the Führer’s known utterances, with his writings, with the spirit of his whole doctrine… [He] knew that we can only win, in the long run, if, wherever essentials are concerned, we maintain that intolerance of any movement sincerely “convinced that it alone is right.” And he knew that, sooner or later, our conflict with the existing order is bound to break out on the religious and philosophical plane as well as on the others. This is unavoidable. And it has only been postponed by the material defeat of Germany — perhaps (who knows?) in accordance with the mysterious will of the Gods, so as to enable the time to ripen and the Aryan people at large, and especially the Germans, to realise, at last, how little Christianity can fulfil their deeper aspirations [emphasis by Editor], and how foolish they would be to allow it to stand between them and the undying Aryan faith implied in National Socialism.
That Aryan faith — that worship of health, of strength, of sunshine, and of manly virtues; that cult of race and soil — is the Nordic expression of the universal Religion of Life. It is — I hope — the future religion of Europe and of a part at least of Asia (and, naturally, of all other lands where the Aryan dominates). One day, those millions will remember the Man who, first — in the 1920s — gave Germany the divine impetus destined to bring about that unparalleled resurrection; the Man whom now the ungrateful world hates and slanders: our Hitler.
Imprisoned here for the love of him, my greatest joy lies in the glorious hope that those reborn Aryans — those perfect men and women of the future Golden Age — will, one day, render him divine honours.
Woods is so wrong when he says “we nationalists” need to reject Hitler and National Socialism in order to more quickly “gain popularity.” I say there is no solution without waking up from the brainwashing. And if you think National Socialism was evil, you have not awakened from the brainwashing. And having a “movement” of supposed “nationalist revolutionaries” who accept 80 or 90 per cent of the Jews’ false world view will quickly be fatal to any state so founded. It’s real revolution, Hitler’s and Pierce’s revolution, or nothing. That is the real choice we face as White people in this hostile world.
And I’ll add two more important points to address the claim that Hitler denigrated and fought against other Aryan nations, who still resent it: 1) Adolf Hitler evolved during the great conflict of World War 2, which he began as a German nationalist and ended as the de facto leader of all Aryans against malevolent Jewish power, with volunteers (including a gigantic Slavic army) from every part of Europe, not just the Germanic or Nordic parts, on his side; and
2) Just because you descend from a nation that, due to historical circumstance, had a conflict with National Socialist Germany, that shouldn’t make you blind to the mythopoeic power of the greatest struggle of all time, between the heroic and spiritually noble National Socialists — for whom the worth of a man was his fidelity to his cosmic and biological destiny — and the crass materialist Jew-dominated capitalists and Communists, for whom the worth of a man was purely economic and who instinctively hate the race-based order we need.
My ancestors, for example, were from Norway. Norway was occupied by German troops. I am sure that some Norwegians were imprisoned by the German National Socialists. Some who made war on Germans were probably killed, as were some Germans in that fight. So what? Should Norwegians hate Germans and everything that has come from Germany on that account, from Hitler to Beethoven? No, that’s absurd. The Norwegians and the Germans need to forget those quarrels and wars of the past. The triumph of National Socialism would mean the Norwegians — and our kindred peoples from across all of Europe — would have a chance to exist eternally, and evolve higher and higher, as Fate and Destiny beckon us. No petty nationalism comes close to that — not by 10,000 miles.
Categories
Adolf quote
‘Germany will either be a world power or will not be at all’.
—Hitler
Categories
Correction
In my previous post I attributed an insightful comment to an ‘OD [Occidental Dissent] commenter’.
I just realised it was a quote from the article ‘Nationalism without National Socialism is a Hollow Shell’ by Daniel Zakal, republished by National Vanguard here.
Categories
Timidity
[National Socialist critic] Keith Woods advocates weakness, compromise, and intellectual dishonesty.
Keith Woods’ arguments ultimately boil down to a defense of half-measures and ideological timidity, dressed up as pragmatic strategy. His primary concern—that National Socialism carries negative stigma—is nothing more than a fearful retreat into weakness and respectability politics. Rather than standing firmly behind a rigorous, comprehensive, and proven life-affirming ideology, Woods prefers a sanitized nationalism designed to placate enemies who despise our existence regardless.
Nationalism without National Socialism is precisely the half-measure that has repeatedly failed European peoples. It offers neither structural solutions nor ideological coherence. Woods’ belief that the essence of National Socialism—its fundamental commitment to racial health, cultural vitality, economic independence, and disciplined self-overcoming—can be stripped away, leaving behind a vague ethnonationalist shell, is intellectually bankrupt. Such hollow nationalism can never provide the depth of purpose, moral clarity, or strategic vision essential for genuine rebirth and sustained revival.
Woods deliberately misconstrains the complexity of historical events, lazily parroting mainstream tropes without rigorous engagement with primary sources. He misrepresents the nature of Lebensraum, dismisses Slavic collaboration, and leans heavily on mistranslated excerpts from Hitler’s Table Talk. The reality is clear: the table talks—recorded firsthand in German by Picker and Heim—are authentic records, distorted only through English translations. To entirely dismiss them, as Woods does, is intellectually negligent and betrays a lack of scholarly integrity.
Woods’ rejection of National Socialism reveals more than historical ignorance—it exposes his philosophical cowardice. His ideological stance resembles National Bolshevism, a confused hybrid that tries and fails to reconcile nationalism with leftist economic populism, inevitably resulting in ideological paralysis. Woods advocates a path of least resistance, endorsing a nationalism devoid of moral clarity or revolutionary intent. He proposes nothing concrete beyond vague appeals to national tradition, conveniently sidestepping the urgent structural crises—demographic collapse, cultural degeneration, economic subjugation—that demand radical solutions.
In short, Woods represents precisely what must be eradicated from nationalism: timidity, compromise, and a preoccupation with optics. He prioritizes popular acceptance over ideological integrity, fundamentally misunderstanding the reality that true nationalism requires sacrifice, struggle, and unwavering adherence to principles that sustain and elevate life.
The Life Affirming Principle dictates clear solutions: nationalism must be bold, disciplined, and uncompromising. It cannot thrive through half-hearted populism or sanitized historical revisionism. National Socialism is more than Adolf Hitler or the Third Reich; it is a timeless truth, discovered rather than invented [emphasis by Editor]: a guiding philosophy for cultural, biological, and economic health. To reject it is to reject the only fully coherent system capable of achieving lasting strength and survival for our people.
Ultimately, Woods embodies a defeatist mindset. He would rather pursue polite nationalism, begging permission to exist, instead of forging an uncompromising path toward genuine national renewal. His approach offers neither hope nor solutions, only endless retreat. To embrace Woods’ path is to embrace perpetual defeat.
Categories
H man
I am pleased that in The Occidental Observer (TOO) an author, who considers Hitler ‘the greatest champion of our race’, defends him against a silly TOO columnist. There are even good comments in the comments section of both that webzine and its republishing in The Unz Review.
It’s no wonder that Matt Parrott sided with the silly columnist in this controversy. Devout Christians love the god of the Jews. They will never truly love the real champion of the Aryan cause.
As another commenter said, Hitler is the Spirit, the will of the universe. If one follows the tenants of National Socialism, the power of Hitler will come again onto this earth.
Categories
Tchaikovsky
A brief word about Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky.
In the comments section, the day before yesterday I spoke of the need to ban all kinds of dances in vogue in the Gomorrah world, even if they are heterosexual Gomorrahites: dances that involve such degenerate music that they make one want to flee the West as much as Lot fled from Gomorrah.
To understand a contemporary Lot it is necessary to be musically educated from early childhood. Since I was a very small child my father, a composer, put on the record player so I could listen to works by Mussorgsky and Stravinsky. So Russian orchestral music was my first love. Already at the age of six, I went with my mother to see Sleeping Beauty on the big screen, whose musical score, in which Walt Disney used Tchaikovsky, is magnificent. Thus I would like to say a few words about this composer.
What is most striking is that in 1854 his mother died during a cholera epidemic: a brutal blow when Tchaikovsky was fourteen years old. Almost forty years later, it is rumoured, Tchaikovsky drank water during another cholera epidemic without boiling it, knowing it was forbidden. How he was treated as a child we will not know, although I would like to know if any biographies speak of what his early years at home were like. All I know is that, according to a booklet by Javier Alfaya, Tchaikovsky ‘always kept open the wounds of his childhood and adolescence’. The fact that his brother Modest also became a homosexual makes me suspect some toxic atmosphere in the family dynamics of his childhood and adolescence.
But the current era that inverts values to the extent of glorifying Gomorrah, when speaking of Tchaikovsky omits extremely important data, such as the fact that in 1867 he fell in love with a woman, the singer Désirée Artôt, whom he wanted to marry. This fact belies the fashion of calling Tchaikovsky ‘homosexual’ in this era of glorification of inverts. Considering this simple fact he was bisexual.
True, Tchaikovsky didn’t understand the music of Wagner, who was my favourite composer even when I was an anti-Nazi normie. But he loved Italy and especially Florence, which I have visited. I like that Tchaikovsky rejected Brahms’ music: ‘His music doesn´t burn with the fire of genuine feeling, it lacks poetry’ and is ‘just empty space’. And I am also pleased that he despaired of Beethoven’s quartets (well into the 1970s I made an enormous effort to understand them but even now I find them very depressing). Of Bach, Tchaikovsky simply said that he was interested in him but didn’t consider him a great genius; once again, just what I feel.
I don’t want to say much in a very brief note except to add that my favourites of Tchaikovsky’s are the Nutcracker Suite, the Fourth Symphony and the first movement of his Piano Concerto No. 1.