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Author: C .T.

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3-eyed crow Ancient Greece Ancient Rome Philosophy of history Souvenirs et réflexions d'une aryenne (book) Tree

Reflections of an Aryan woman, 25

Perhaps the notion of the irrevocable ‘existence’ of the past is of little consolation to those tormented by nostalgia for happy times, lived or imagined. Time refuses to suspend its flight at the plea of the poet enamoured of fleeting beauty—whether it be an hour of silent communion with the beloved woman (and, through her, and beyond her, with the harmony of the spheres), or an hour of glory, i.e. communion, in the glare of fanfares or the thunder of arms, or the roar of frenzied crowds, with the soul of a whole people and, through it and beyond it, again and again, with the Divine: another aspect of the Divine.

It is possible, sometimes, and usually without any special effort of memory, to relive, as if in a flash, a moment of one’s own past and with incredible intensity, as if one’s self-consciousness were suddenly hallucinated without the senses being the least bit affected. A small thing—a taste, very present, like that of the petite Madeleine cited by Proust in his famous analysis of reliving; a furtive odour, once breathed in; a melody that one had thought forgotten, a simple sound like that of water falling drop by drop—is enough to put, for an instant, the consciousness in a state that it ‘knows’ to be the same as the one it knew, years and sometimes decades, more than half a century earlier; a state of euphoria or anxiety, or even anguish, depending on the moment that has miraculously re-emerged from the mist of the past: a moment that had not ceased to ‘exist’ in the manner of things past, but which suddenly takes on the sharpness and relief of the present, as if a mysterious spotlight directed the daylight of the living actuality.

But these experiences are rare. And if it is possible to evoke them, they do not last long, even in very capable people of evoking their memories. Moreover, they only concern—except in very exceptional cases—the personal past of the person who ‘revives’ such a state or such an episode, not the historical past.

Yet there are people who are much more interested in the history of their people—or even that of other people—than in their own past. And although scholars, whose job it is to do so, succeed in reconstructing as best they can, from relics and documents, what at first sight appears to be the ‘essentials’ of history, and although some scholars sometimes astonish their readers or listeners by the number and thoroughness of the details they know about the habits of a particular character, the intrigues of a particular chancellery, or the daily life of such and such a vanished people, it is no less certain that the past of the civilised world—the easiest to grasp, however, since it has left visible traces—escapes us.

We know it indirectly and in bits and pieces, that our investigators try to put together, like a game of patience in which half or three-quarters of the puzzle are missing. And even if we possessed all the elements, we would still not know it, because to know is to live, or re-live, and no individual subjected to the category of Time can live history. What this individual can, at most, know directly, that is to say, live, and what he can then remember, sometimes with incredible clarity, is the history of his time insofar as he himself has contributed to making it; in other words, his own history, situated in a whole that exceeds it and often crushes it.

This is undoubtedly a truer story than the one that scholars will one day reconstruct. For what appears to be the ‘essence’ of an epoch, studied through documents and remains, is not. What is essential is the atmosphere of an epoch, or a moment within it: the atmosphere that can only be grasped through the direct experience of someone who lived it: one whose personal history is steeped in it. Guy Sajer, in his admirable book The Forgotten Soldier, has given us the essence of the Russian campaign from 1941 to 1945.

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Editor’s Note: This is absolutely true. One of the reasons why I prefer lucid essays like the one by Evropa Soberana on the Judean war against Rome (the masthead of this site) to the scholarly book that Karlheinz Deschner wrote about that epoch, is that Soberana transports us to that world—as in another literary genre Gore Vidal’s Julian has transported us to 4th-century Rome. Academic books are extremely misleading in that they don’t transport us back in time. We desperately need the visuals of what happened. That’s why I like the metaphor of the last greenseer, Bloodraven: the man fused to a tree that could see the past.
 

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He was able to put in his pages such a force of suggestion, precisely because, along with thousands of others in this campaign of Russia in the ranks of the Wehrmacht, then in the elite Grossdeutschland Division, it represents a slice of his own life.

When, three thousand years from now, historians want to have an idea of what the Second World War was like on this particular front, they will get a much better idea by reading Sajer’s book (which deserves to survive) than by trying to reconstruct, with the help of sporadic impersonal documents, the advance and retreat of the Reich’s armies. But, I repeat, they will acquire an idea of it, not a knowledge, much in the way we have one today of the decline of Egypt on the international scene at the end of the 20th Dynasty, through what remains of the juicy report of Wenamon, special envoy of Ramses XI (or rather of the high priest Herihor) to Zakarbaal, king of Gebal, or Gubla, which the Greeks call Byblos, in 1117 BC.

Nothing gives us a more intense experience of what I have called in other writings the ‘bondage of Time’ than this impossibility of letting our ‘self’ travel in the historical past that we have not lived, and of which we cannot therefore ‘remember’. Nothing makes us feel our isolation within our own epoch like our inability to live directly, at will, in some other time, in some other country; to travel in time as we travel in space.

We can visit the whole earth as it is today, but not see it as it once was. We cannot, for instance, actually immerse ourselves in the atmosphere of the temple of Karnak—or even only one street in Thebes—under Themose III; to find ourselves in Babylon at the time of Hammurabi, or with the Aryas before they left the old Arctic homeland; or among the artists painting the frescoes in the caves of Lascaux or Altamira, as we have somewhere in the world in our own epoch, having travelled there on foot or by car, by train, by boat or by plane.

And this impression of a definitive barrier—which lets us divine some outlines but prohibits us forever a more precise vision—is all the more painful, perhaps, because the civilisation we would like to know directly is chronologically closer to us, while being qualitatively more different from the one in whose midst we are forced to remain.

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Editor’s Note: In my fantasy that such a thing as the Wall existed, and have the last greenseer as our tutor, I imagine that I would spend an inordinate amount of time visiting ancient Sparta, and other cities where the Norse race remained unpolluted for centuries. I would visit all the temples of classical religion not only in Greece but in Rome, trying to capture through their art the Aryan spirit in its noblest expression.

But above all I would pay close attention to the human physiognomy of living characters before they mixed their blood with mudbloods.

Only he who actually sees the past as it was, has a good grasp of History.

The saddest thing of all is that pure Nordids still exist, but the current System is doing everything possible to exterminate them (as in Song of Ice and Fire the children of the forest was a species on the verge of extinction).

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History has always fascinated me: the history of the whole world, in all its richness. But it is particularly painful for me to know that I’ll never be able to know pre-Columbian America directly… by going to live there for a while; that it will never again be possible to see Tenochtitlan, or Cuzco, as the Spaniards first saw them, four hundred and fifty years ago, or less, that is to say yesterday. As a teenager, I cursed the conquerors who changed the face of the New World. I wished that no one had discovered it so that it would remain intact. Then we could have known it without going back in time; we could have known it as it was on the eve of the conquest, or rather as a natural evolution would have modified it little by little over four or five centuries, without destroying its characteristic traits.

But it goes without saying that my real torment, since the disaster of 1945, has been the knowledge that it is now impossible for me to have any direct experience of the atmosphere of the German Third Reich, in which I did not, alas, live.

Believing that it was to last indefinitely—that there would be no war or that, if there were, Hitlerian Germany would emerge victorious—I had the false impression that there was no hurry to return to Europe and that, moreover, I was useful to the Aryan cause where I was.

Now that it is all over, I think with bitterness that only thirty years ago[1] one could immerse oneself immediately, without the intermediary of texts, pictures, records, or comrades’ stories, in that atmosphere of fervour and order, of power and manly beauty, that of Hitlerian civilisation. Thirty years! It is not ‘yesterday’, it is today: a few minutes ago. And I have the feeling that I have missed very closely both the life and the death—the glorious death, in the service of our Führer—that should have been mine.

But one cannot ‘go back’ five minutes, let alone 1500 years or 500 million years, into the unalterable past, now transformed into ‘eternity’—timeless existence. And it is as impossible to attend the National Socialist Party Congress of September 1935 today as it is to walk the earth at the time when it seemed to have become forever the domain of the dinosaurs… except for one of those very few sages who have, through asceticism and the transposition of consciousness, freed themselves from the bonds of time.
 

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Editor’s Note: ‘I saw your birth, and that of your lord father before you. I saw your first step, heard your first word, was part of your first dream. I was watching when you fell. And now you are come to me at last, Brandon Stark, though the hour is late’…

‘Time is different for a tree than for a man. Sun and soil and water, these are the things a weirwood understands, not days and years and centuries. For men, time is a river. We are trapped in its flow, hurtling from past to present, always in the same direction. The lives of trees are different. They root and grow and die in one place, and that river does not move them. The oak is the acorn, the acorn is the oak’ (Boodraven to his pupil in George R.R. Martin’s A Dance with Dragons).

[1] This was written in 1969 or 1970.

Categories
Chris Martenson Currency crash

House or cards

Watch Martenson’s most recent podcast: here (his crash course is even more important than his videos about Covid).

Categories
3-eyed crow Philosophy of history Souvenirs et réflexions d'une aryenne (book)

Reflections of an Aryan woman, 24

 

Chapter V

History, Action and the Timeless

‘Time, Space and Number
Fell from the black firmament,
Into the still and sombre sea.
Shroud of silence and shade,
The night erases absolutely
Time, Space and Number’.

—Leconte de Lisle (‘Villanelle’, Poèmes Tragiques)

Have you ever worried about the irremediable flight of hours, and the impossibility of going back in time? And have you felt how we are prisoners of time, in all that concerns our sensitive experience? Prisoners of space, certainly, since we are material bodies, even if we are not only that, and a body cannot be conceived independently of its position concerning reference points—but even more so prisoners of time, since a temporal succession is necessarily oriented, and can only be experienced in a direction from the past, frozen in its irrevocability, towards the future, perhaps just as irrevocable but apprehended as an indefinity of possible situations (of more or less probable virtualities) as long as it has not become ‘present’, that is to say, definitive history?

There is, of course, a limit to the possibilities that a body of flesh, blood and nerves such as ours can travel through space. Men have managed, at the price, it is true, of enormous inconvenience, but they have finally managed, to leave the field of attraction of the Earth, of which they had hitherto been the captives, and to launch themselves beyond it. Oh, not very far! Only as far as the Moon, the immediate vicinity of our planet. (It should be said in passing that it was Aryans, one Aryan especially, the mathematician von Braun, who made this feat possible, and other Aryans who achieved it.) This is only the beginning. But this ‘first step’ allows ‘all hopes’ say the experts who have studied the question. What they pompously call ‘the conquest of space’ would only be a matter of technical progress, thus of study and patience.

There is, however, a limit, it seems. For if technical progress is indefinite, so is physical space. It is unwise to make predictions in this area. Who could have said, only a few decades ago, that men would one day actually see our Earth rising and setting: a huge luminous disc, blue and white, against a black background on the lunar horizon? It seems very unlikely to me that man will ever venture outside our solar system, which is so vast on our scale, and so infinitesimal on the cosmic scale. But it remains certain that, even if it remains forever impossible in practice to cross a limit (of which we are still unaware), we can nevertheless imagine an indefinite expansion in this direction.

Beyond the last limit reached, whether within the solar system or further away, there will always be ‘room’: an untravelled distance that we could travel if we had more powerful means. There is no theoretical limit. Space is essentially what can be travelled in every direction. In fact, there would be no practical limit for a hypothetical explorer who wouldn’t need to eat, sleep and wear out and who operated a transport device capable of renewing its driving energy. And even if it can never be materially realised, one can imagine such a journey lasting forever, through space.

On the other hand, we know that, even with the help of the most excellent memory, it is impossible to go back in time and, even with the help of a lot of political intuition and individual and collective psychology, to follow the course of time beyond tomorrow, or even ‘tonight’. I mentioned above the irrevocability of the past, which can be forgotten or distorted—which is bound to be distorted, even when we try to reconstruct it impartially—but that one cannot change; which is now out of reach, as if printed forever in an immense impersonal and infallible memory: the memory of the Universe out of our reach, but also out of range, unknowable, because not directly relivable.

We often hear it said that ‘the past is nothing’, that ‘what is no longer is as if it had never been’.

I, for one, have never been able to understand this assimilation of the living data of yesterday and the day before yesterday, to pure nothingness. Perhaps I have too much memory. It is not the absence of the past—the impossibility of ‘recapturing’ it—that strikes me most, but on the contrary its eternal presence: the impossibility of altering the slightest detail of it. What is done, or said or thought has been done, said, thought. One can do something else, say something else, direct one’s thoughts in a completely different direction. But this ‘other thing’, this ‘converted’ thought (turned in another direction) are new irrevocable things, which are superimposed on the first without destroying them. I have, as far back as I can remember, always felt this.

As a child, I attended a free school, a Catholic school, and took catechism lessons with the other little girls. We were told, among other things, that ‘God can do anything’. Having each time reflected on such a statement, I ventured one day to ask for the floor, and said, as soon as I was free to speak: ‘I came to class today at eight o’clock in the morning, Lyon time. Can ‘God’ make it so that this is no longer true, but that I came, let us say, at half-past eight, still Lyon time? Can he change the past?
 

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Editor’s Note. There is a saying in the language of Cervantes: “Palo dado ¡ni Dios lo quita!”, literally, ‘Hit given [a blow with a stick] not even God takes it away!’ (i.e., what’s done is done. The closest English idiom is ‘A bell can’t be unrung’).

Like Savitri, I am infinitely passionate about the past, as can be seen in the image at the bottom of this site: the child Bran would learn how to retrocognitively see our historical past thanks to the heart tree. That image became the logo of this site: one of the mysteries to most visitors.

The past is the present: If Columbus’s caravels had sunk in an Atlantic storm, we wouldn’t be here.

When I say the historical past I mean the real past, which Bran has access to through magic north of the Wall. I am not referring to the history books written by Christians and neochristians (that is, secular liberals). They lie about what really happened.
 

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Since the teacher was unable to answer my question in a way that satisfied my young mind, I detached myself a little more from the idea of this all-too-human ‘God’ that was being presented to me: the god whose shocking partiality towards ‘man’ had begun, at the dawn of my life, to repulse me. And the irrevocability of the past, of the present moment as soon as it fell into the past, always haunted me: a source of joy, a source of anxiety, a precious knowledge since it dominated the conduct of my life.

More than forty years later, in 1953, I was to write a prose poem, each stanza of which ends with the words: ‘While we never forget, never forgive’. I evoked there the memory of the glory that was the Third German Reich, and also of my bitterness (and that of my comrades) at the thought of the relentless persecution of our people, and of all the efforts made after the Second World War to kill our Hitlerian faith.

This attitude was not, for me, new. At the age of eight, only a few months before the First World War, had I not once declared that I ‘hated Christianity because it makes it a duty of the faithful to forgive’, revolted as I was at the idea of ‘forgiveness’ granted to children guilty of torturing insects or other defenceless animals, as well as to grown-ups who have committed gratuitous atrocities at any time, provided that the cowardly, and therefore degrading act is followed by repentance, however tardy?

Forgiveness or forgetting can completely change the relationship between people, as long as it is given wholeheartedly. It cannot change what is once and for all stereotyped in the past. It is not even certain that the relationship between individuals and entire peoples would improve much, if the former began to practice forgiveness of offences, trivial and serious, and if the latter suppressed, suddenly, the teaching of history among their young people. They would stop hating each other for the reasons they are despised, or at least opposed, today. But given human nature with its lusts, vanity and selfishness they would soon discover other pretexts for enmity.

Animals have short memories, and how! Each generation, unaware of man’s repeated cruelties, is ready to trust him again, and in the case of domesticated animals to give him the unconditional love of which only unreasoning beings are capable. And yet… this total oblivion doesn’t improve at all the conduct of men towards the rest of creation. Wouldn’t the forgetting of history have, between men this time, a similar result or rather a similar lack of result?

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Editor’s Note: This is exactly why the entire contemporary white nationalist movement is animal quackery. If they had a noble heart, the first thing they would do is denounce the Hellstorm Holocaust with the same mania as the media at the hands of Jews speak of their Shoah. But it should come as no surprise if we take into account that the majority of white nationalists are Christian or neochristian.

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In any case, no ‘new beginning’, however happy, can obscure what once happened. To have been, even once, is, in a way, to be forever. Neither forgetting nor forgiveness, nor even the indefinite succession of millennia, can do anything about it. And the smallest events, the smallest on our scale, are as indelible as those we consider the most important. Everything ‘exists’ in the manner of things ‘past’: past in the eyes of individuals who can only live their experience according to a ‘before’ and an ‘after’.

Categories
Conservatism Racial right

American Gothic

Now that we have been translating Savitri’s book, the first thing that comes to mind is her admiration for Hitler’s Germany: something that the mainstream sites of American racialism lack. We also see that she had an exact understanding of the role that the Christian Weltanschauung played in putting what we call Neanderthals (see previous entry) on the pedestal: an aberration that has culminated in the Woke movement (see ‘Terminal Stage’, pages 190-192 of Daybreak, translated this year into German).

Recently one of these American racialists began to write apologetic entries for Christianity in the face of attacks from other racialists who have spoken about the Christian question (CQ). But as always, this American ignores the in-depth criticism we’ve been drawing on this site, including that of Savitri. As a typical American racialist, he focuses on the history of his country, seeing only his navel and ignoring for the umpteenth time what we have said about how the Iberian Europeans ruined their blood, both on the peninsula and this continent, because of their universal Catholicism.

‘Chess is a matter of vanity’, said world champion Alexander Alekhine. And in the battle of ideas there is much vanity among American white nationalists. And there will continue to be, as long as they don’t answer what we say, or what the Spaniard who wrote the masthead of this site said about what happened in the 4th and 5th centuries of our era.

I don’t even want to mention the name of the American racialist who has started his apologetic series. I have mentioned him many times, linking to his site, and he has never responded to any criticism. In the discussion threads on that site, the profound criticism of the CQ is also unmentioned.

So let’s leave the American Goths alone, ignore them from now on, and keep working on the book by our priestess of the fourteen words…

Update of 6:30 pm

The American Robert Morgan has replied to my quest about the racialist dude I didn’t dare to mention above.

Categories
Holocaust Neanderthalism Souvenirs et réflexions d'une aryenne (book)

Reflections of an Aryan woman, 23

In my first new contact with Europe, after the disaster of 1945, I wrote to a Hindu correspondent, after quoting Nietzsche’s phrase on the intermediate character of man, ‘a rope stretched between animality and superhumanity’. ‘The rope is now broken. There are no more men on this godforsaken continent; there is only a superhuman minority of true Hitlerians, and… an immense majority of apes’.

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Editor’s Note: What I call ‘the Neanderthals’.

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Such then was the contrast between the dazzling elite of the faithful, whom I exalted in the first of my post-war books[1]: ‘those men of gold and steel, whom defeat cannot deter, whom terror and torture cannot break, whom money cannot buy’—and the rest of the Europeans.

Since then, I have seen this precious minority gradually renew itself, while remaining profoundly the same—like the waters of a lake fed by a river. Many of the Alten Kämpfer (old militants) of the glorious years have died, and more than grew weary of waiting for the impossible return of the dawn—or of what they had so long taken to be ‘a dawn’—of the Aryan renaissance, and, without having died in the flesh, have sunk into the apathy of those who no longer hope, even though hope was indispensable to them. Only the Strong remained who had no use for hope because, while contributing through their activity (and by the magical fervour of their thought, when all action is forbidden to them) to the immemorial struggle against the Powers of disintegration, they have transcended Time. Only those who do not need to ‘believe’, because they know, are left standing.

And around these few survivors of the wreckage of the most beautiful of races, I have seen, in the course of this quarter of a century, a hard and silent elite of young people grouping—consciously known to each of them or not, it does not matter—an elite very few in number, no doubt, but oh joy! of a quality which the vast hostile world doesn’t suspect (and which it could not alter even if, one day, it suddenly imposed itself upon it). I have seen growing here and there, outside of what may seem to the historian our definitive ruin, the miraculous fruits of the unparalleled ordeal of boys and girls of twenty strong enough, already, to do without hope as well as success; intelligent enough to understand once and for all that Truth does not depend on the visible.

One of them[2] said to me in 1956, and others have repeated to me more than ten years later: ‘I oppose and will continue all my life to oppose the current of decadence, convinced as I am of the eternity of the Hitlerian ideal, although I know that we will not see, until the end of time, the equivalent of the Third German Reich. We must fight ceaselessly and without fail, even knowing in advance that we are overwhelmed; one must fight, because this is the duty—the function—of the Aryan of our time, and of all times to come’.

I then thought of Goebbels’ words uttered amidst all the horror of the disaster: ‘After the flood, us!’ Was it the nature of this disaster to bring forth to the continent for which the false civilisation is destined—and how precisely!—to be swept away, a few young people (mostly Germans, but not necessarily) whose spontaneous mentality, corresponding exactly to the teachings of the Bhagawad-Gita, matches that of the very prototype of the Arya of old? And was the resurrection, in our time, of the ethic of imperturbable serenity within untiring action—the wisdom of the Divine Warrior—to be the result of the Passion of Germany?

Perhaps. If so, it was worth surviving the disaster to witness this resurrection. It was worth wandering from year to year among all the apes of the ‘consumer societies’ to make sure, finally, that the spirit of the Leader and the Master would not disappear with the death of the last of the militants of the old guard, but would continue to animate, in its hardness and its purity, a spiritual as well as racial aristocracy, which had not been born in 1945.

This spiritual as well as racial aristocracy—this elite, conscious of the eternity of the basic principles of Adolf Hitler’s doctrine, and living according to them in all simplicity—is, for us, the true ‘man’: the man who strives for superhumanity through personal and collective discipline, through the selection of blood, through the cultivation of ancestral honour and divine indifference to all that is not essential; through the humility of the individual before the Race and before the eternity it reflects; through the contempt for all cowardice, all lies and all weakness.

And I repeat: if we find any of these characteristics elsewhere than in those who openly or secretly confess the same doctrine as we do; if we even find it in people who fight us and hate us, or think they hate us because they don’t know us, we salute, in those who have them, beings worthy of respect. They have in them the stuff of what they could and should be, but they don’t use it or misuse it. They are, in most cases, our own brothers of the race, or men of other races, among the most gifted. Something in them redeems them before the immanent and impersonal Justice which sends every being who, rightly or wrongly, professes to think, where he deserves to go, and which has hitherto prevented them—and will always prevent many of them—from slipping and sinking into that mass which neither feels nor thinks according to its law; the simian majority of mankind, which, like liquids or pasty substances, takes on the shape of the vessels that contain it, or the mark of the seal that has, once and for all, struck it.

During this quarter of a century, I have gradually rediscovered this category of people whom my atrocious shock with post-war Europe had at first withdrawn from my attention: the men of goodwill, the good people who keep their word and are capable of a good deed that brings them no profit; who, for example, would go out of their way to rescue an animal without, however, being capable of extreme sacrifice, even of sustained, daily, total action for the benefit of anyone.

They are not the Strong, and certainly not us. But they are not apes. In an intelligent sorting, they should be spared. Among their children, there could be future militants of Hitlerism—as their opposite. A reading, a conversation at the crucial moment, a small thing, can decide the evolution of each of them. One must be careful: not to despise what is healthy, but not to waste one’s time and energy in trying to hold back on the slope what, in any case, is predestined—condemned by nature—to sink into the mass of non-thinkers; a mass that is sometimes usable but never respectable and a fortiori never likeable.

He is not ‘man’ in the sense that we understand it, man, a valid candidate for true superhumanity; nor is he the ‘good man’, sound in body and soul, fundamentally honest and kind, well disposed towards all that lives, whom we ‘deny’. In other words, it is not to him that we deny more ‘dignity’ and hence more consideration than a simple thing; not to him, but to this caricature of man, increasingly common in the world in which we live. It is this that we refuse to include in the denotation of the concept of ‘man’, for the simple reason that it does not have the connotation, that is to say, it does not possess the essential qualities and capacities that quite naturally serve as attributes in possible judgements where the word ‘man’ is used as a subject.

Any judgment in which a concept is used as a subject is necessarily a hypothetical judgment. To say that ‘man thinks’, or that he is a ‘thinking being’, is to say that if any individual is ‘a man’—if he possesses upright posture, speech—it follows that he is also capable of thinking. In case he is not able to do so, the upright posture and the articulate word, and the other features which accompany these, are insufficient to define him—and do not oblige anyone to treat him as ‘a man’.

Now, a person does not think if he tells you, in all seriousness, that a piece of information is ‘certainly correct’ because it was transmitted to him by his television set, or especially that a value judgement must ‘certainly’ be accepted because he has read the statement in a newspaper, magazine book, or on a poster, wherever it is printed. It does not ‘think’ any more than does a gramophone whose needle faithfully follows record grooves. Change the record, and the machine will change its language or its music.

In the same way, change the television broadcasts, which millions of families watch every night with ear and eye; change the radio programs; pay the press to print other propaganda, and encourage the publication of other magazines and books, and in three months you will change the reactions of a people—of all peoples—to the same events, to the same political or literary figures, to the same ideas. Why, great Gods, should we treat as ‘men’ those millions of gramophones of flesh and blood who do not ‘think’ any more than their metal and Bakelite colleagues?

The latter cannot think, and it would be absurd to ask them to. They have neither brains nor nerves. They are objects. The individual—the two-legged mammal—who comes to me and insists that ‘six million’ Jews, men, women and children, died in the gas chambers of the German concentration camps, and who gets angry if I show him that this number has one (or perhaps two) extra zeros, is worse than an object.
 

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Editor’s Note: Today the internet exists, and we can see images that from 1915 to 1938 (before the so-called Jewish holocaust began), the Jewish press was already talking about 6 million dead Jews!
 

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He has a brain, but does not use it, or uses it only to dumb himself down more and more, refusing any opportunity to exercise what little critical thinking he still possesses after more than forty years of anti-Hitler conditioning. This kind of propaganda started already before 1933: between 1920 and 1930. I was in Europe then and remember it—and how!

Moreover, he dares to find in others, or in the men of old, blind faith, absolute trust in a teaching or a teacher. He blames (or mocks) the people of the Middle Ages for believing without question everything the Church told them and everything written in the Gospels, as if the authority of the Church and the Gospels were not equal to that of television or the magazine. He refuses to admit, because the propaganda he has ingested has told him otherwise, that we are not and have never been ‘conditioned’—at least, those of us who count.

Why, then, should I give him more ‘respect’ than to an object—especially since, precisely because of his nearly perfect indoctrination, he has become for me, for the cause I serve, totally useless? What if, moreover, he is not even good?—if I know, having seen him in action, that he would not hesitate to tear off a tree branch that is in his way, or to throw a stone at a dog? Why—in the name of what—should I feel obliged to prefer him to the dog he once injured, or the tree he mutilated in passing? In the name of his ‘human dignity’?

What dignity is that of a living, evil, dangerous gramophone, capable of inflicting gratuitous suffering and creating ugliness! I deny this ‘dignity’ there. Should I love him ‘because he is my brother’? The tree and the dog and all living beings, beautiful and innocent, who at least have no ideas, neither their own nor those of television, are my brothers. I do not, in any way, sense that this individual is more my brother than any of them. Why should I give him priority over them? Because he walks, like me, on his hind legs?

I don’t think that’s a good reason. I don’t care about standing upright when it doesn’t go hand in hand with real thought and a superior man’s character: a character from which all meanness, all smallness is excluded. And when the articulated word serves only to express ideas which had not been created by the one who thinks he has them, but merely received them—and false ideas to boot—, I prefer, by far, the silence of animals and trees.
 

______ 卐 ______

 
Editor’s Note: I find it impressive that what Savitri wrote when I was a child resonates so strongly with my own philosophy. That’s why I am now calling myself a priest and Savitri a priestess…

__________

[1] Gold in the Furnace, written in 1948-1949.

[2] Uwe G., born on 21 July 1935.

Categories
Feminism Liberalism Mainstream media

Spanish-speaking ‘conservatism’

Compared to the neighbouring country to the north, I consider Latin America the continent of the blue pill. There is nothing in MSM that resembles, say, Tucker Carlson. One has to search social media to find the voice of an Argentine, Agustín Laje, and his YouTube channel: a kind of Latin American Tucker who in the Spanish-speaking MSM would be inconceivable.

Here we see him with his colleague Nicolás Marquez and their book about the new left. Laje and Márquez debunk gender ideology and in their activism they travel to Spanish-speaking countries. Gender ideology is the equivalent, in this part of the continent, to anti-racism north of the Rio Grande. (Since whites are already an extreme minority on this side of the river, the next levelling battle is to denigrate the male versus the female.)

Vox is a Spanish political party founded in late 2013. Its president is Santiago Abascal. Vox is the party of the right in Spain: a more conservative right than the caricature that the Republican Party has become in the US today.

But Vox’s folk, Laje and the new Spanish-speaking right are limited to criticising the third feminist wave. Although the Spanish and Latin American media call them ‘ultra-rightists’ and fachas (fascists), they are actually progressive. Their criticism of feminism is not radical at all. Like Andrew Anglin, we not only reject the third wave that Vox rejects, but the first and second feminist waves, as can be seen in the sidebar book on Beth’s pretty boobs.

The pendulum has swung so much to the left that liberals such as Argentina’s Laje and Márquez, and those of Spain’s Vox party, are seen as conservative. They are not. See what I recently said about Vox in La Hora Más Oscura. In the case of Laje, in minute 21 of this interview with a woman, the Argentine says that the male rapist should face life imprisonment. Note that Laje is hated by the mass of feminists because they mistakenly see him as macho. If Laje and those of Vox weren’t, to some extent, conquered by the anti-male hysteria of our days, they would say that the woman who falsely accused a man of rape would also be sentenced to life imprisonment.

But they don’t say that: our new Orwellian laws only punish males.

The so-called conservatives are liberals, and this applies not only to Vox and Laje but to Tucker and Sean Hannity (the latter interviewed a transexual man not long ago). There are no exponents of true conservatism in the media, neither in the English-speaking world nor in the Spanish-speaking world. And by the way, we are not conservatives but racists.

Categories
PDF backup

WDH – pdf 402

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Categories
NS booklets

Sieg der Waffen – Sieg des Kindes, 15

Vier bis sechs Kinder soll jede deutsche Familie haben. Vier bis sechs Kinder in jeder Familie sind nötig, wenn wir als Volk wachsen wollen.

Categories
Eugenics Israel / Palestine Neanderthalism Souvenirs et réflexions d'une aryenne (book)

Reflections of an Aryan woman, 22

We are accused of ‘denying man’ by placing the last of the healthy animals, the smallest healthy plant—the last of the dandelions, perfect on its level—above the human waste, the mentally retarded, let alone the idiot, and the animal or plant aristocracy, above the Untermensch, even the apparently ‘normal’; the raceless and characterless human being, smug and cowardly; petty; incapable of thinking for himself, and essentially selfish.

We are reproached for advocating the physical suppression of the demented, the profoundly retarded, the idiots and monsters who, at taxpayers’ expense, clutter up the asylums of ‘civilised’ countries, and the sterilisation of people afflicted with dangerous heredity.

We are reproached, perhaps more than anything else, for having allowed German physiologists and doctors to experiment on human enemies of the Reich, taken from the concentration camps, even though they were forbidden to use animals; in other words, for having shown more consideration for the animal than for the actual or even potential ideological enemy. Above all, this is what most of our adversaries, stuffed with ‘denazifying’ propaganda for more than twenty-five years, have in mind when they declare that we ‘deny man’.

______ 卐 ______

 
Editor’s Note: Anti-Nazi chutzpa has no limits. The so-called Ringworm affair was a scandal involving approximately twenty thousand immigrated Jews who were mistreated between 1948 and 1960 with ionizing radiation on the head and neck area in Israel.

The idea was to poison and eventually dispatch Sephardic children, considered inferior by the Ashkenazi caste at the founding of their New Jerusalem. Israeli activists in our century consider the X-rays that these children suffered to the point of sterilisation as the most prominent example of injustices in the 1950s. But I don’t even blame them: I blame an astronomically imbecile US whose evangelicals believe they are the chosen people.

______ 卐 ______

 
The first step would be to agree on the connotation (and hence the denotation) of this concept of ‘man’, of which so much is made. It is, apparently, the connotation they give it that interests our detractors the most. They call ‘man’ any upright primate capable of articulate speech, to whom they automatically attribute ‘reason’ and, if they are Christians, an immortal soul created in the image of god. But it is the upright posture and the articulate language, traits that are obvious, that inform these friends of man, about the (less obvious) presence of other characteristics. What they do with all living things that exhibit these two distinctive features—what am I saying?—even of those who are completely deprived of them but who possess the human form… because our adversaries place the idiot above the most beautiful of beasts!

Here we see, once again, how true it is that the denotation of a concept is in inverse proportion to its connotation. What gives our opponents the persistent impression that we ‘deny man’ is that we are much more demanding than they are concerning the connotation of this term, and that, consequently, its denotation, in our eyes, narrows accordingly.

It is not enough for us to grant a primate the name of man, and the respect that is attached to it in cultivated languages, that this creature stands preferably on its hind legs, and is capable of emitting articulated sounds that have, for it and others, a meaning. It is not enough for us, all the more so, that it should have, without even presenting these two characters, a silhouette vaguely similar to that of one of us.

We want him to possess that minimum of intelligence which will enable him to think for himself, and that minimum of nobility will make him incapable of certain reactions to obstacles, inaccessible to certain ‘temptations’, impervious to certain debasing influences, and a fortiori incapable of petty or cowardly acts, ugly acts. We do want, if not to ‘love’, at least to respect ‘all men’ in the same way as we respect all beautiful living beings, animals and plants, in which we feel more or less attenuated reflections of the divine, the eternal.

But for this to happen they must be ‘men’ in the strongest sense of the word. We are ready to respect, as individuals, even the people, ideological adversaries, even racial enemies, whom we fought collectively yesterday, and whom we will fight again tomorrow—to respect them if, taken separately, they respond to what we expect of ‘man’: if they combine, with a non-enslaved intelligence, the qualities of character which (statistically) distinguish the races I call superior—and first of all, of course, our Aryan race and even the exceptionally noble individual from the statistically inferior races.

This will not prevent us from fighting them, if they are ideologically dangerous; all the more dangerous because they have more intrinsic value. In other words, we respect as ‘men’ those who, if they are not already ideologically ours, would be worthy of becoming so in our eyes.

Categories
Jesus Liberalism

Spengler was right

On Monday I quoted Oswald Spengler: ‘Christian theology is the grandmother of Bolshevism’, words that I have seen quoted in various forums. Racialist Christians reject that quote. But these days I have been thinking about a series of magazines that my father had bound. In times when Francisco Franco still lived in Spain, the series of magazines Jesucristo (Jesus Christ) was published in Madrid.

In one of the 1974 Jesucristo magazines, in the image on the back cover (left) we see a non-Aryan but a Semitic Jesus, and inside we can read a brief interview with Alfonso Paso, a Spanish playwright. In this magazine for Spanish-speaking Catholics from Franco’s time, the interview is titled ‘He [Jesus] preached a proletarian revolution in the world’.

As we have already observed on this site, Jesus did not exist. What did exist was a literary fiction author, the evangelist Mark, who stole passages from the history of the Roman God, Romulus, to sell us to the god of the Jews.

Here’s the interview that reminded me of Oswald Spengler:

What has been the contribution of Jesus to the history of humanity?

Alfonso Paso: As a historical figure, it should be noted that Jesus Christ preached a proletarian revolution amid a world ruled by violence and, using a word that shouldn’t make us blush, by capitalism. The great success of Jesus Christ the man is to have linked the great dissatisfied and deficient mass to a congruent metaphysics. Convinced of the unhappiness of others, Jesus Christ warns them that there is another world, another dimension in which goodness has its prize. The metaphysics of Jesus Christ is not original, it is steeped in orientalism. What is original is his social revolution.
 
What future do you foresee for faith in Jesus Christ?

Alfonso Paso: From the point of view of historical evolution, and thinking, like Toynbee, that politics is a form of ‘religion’, many things can happen. Today faith in Jesus Christ has grown to the point that many young people have made Him a kind of Che Guevara or Lenin, without knowing exactly what they were doing. It seems to them, simply, that Jesus Christ brings the message of the protest, and it is evident that in something these young people are not wrong.

We have been holding onto faith in Jesus Christ for two thousand years. If human evolution confirms the prognoses that we professionals in History are studying, it is very true that the number of believers in Him will decrease. Personally I am sorry, but the message of the Aquarian Age is, finally, a coherent message in which a lot of things are going to become clear. It happens, however, that the keys to the thought of Jesus Christ will always be current, in the same way that the keys to the thought of Confucius or Buddha are current today. After the first streak of Marxist enthusiasm, I foresee a plummet of atheistic materialism. That, so far, seems pretty clear to me.[1]

Alfonso Paso would die four years after the interview, in 1978. Indeed, in the following decade the New Age would reject atheistic materialism. And already in our century the revolutionary message of the fictional character that Marcos created culminated in the secularist Woke age, that Paso called the Aquarian Age (‘Personally I am sorry, but the message of the Aquarian Age is, finally, a coherent message in which a lot of things are going to become clear…’).
 
_________
 
[1] Original interview in Spanish:

¿Cuál ha sido la aportación de Jesús a la historia de la humanidad?

Alfonso Paso: Como figura histórica hay que destacar que Jesucristo predicó una revolución proletaria en medio de un mundo gobernado por la violencia y, sin que nos sonroje la palabra, por el capitalismo. El gran acierto de Jesucristo hombre es haber vinculado a la gran masa disconforme y deficitaria a una metafísica congruente. Convencido de la infelicidad de los demás, Jesucristo les advierte que hay otro mundo, otra dimensión en la que la bondad tiene su premio. La metafísica de Jesucristo no es original, está impregnada de orientalismo. Lo que es original es su revolución social.

¿Qué futuro prevé usted para la fe en Jesucristo?

Alfonso Paso: Desde el punto de vista de la evolución histórica, y pensando, como Toynbee, que la política es una forma de “religión”, pueden ocurrir muchas cosas. Ha crecido en la actualidad la fe en Jesucristo hasta el punto de que muchos jóvenes han hecho de Él una especie de Che Guevara o de Lenin, sin saber a punto fijo lo que estaban haciendo. Les parece, simplemente, que Jesucristo trae el mensaje de la protesta, y es evidente que en algo no se equivocan estos jóvenes.

Llevamos dos mil años aferrados a la fe en Jesucristo. Si la evolución humana confirma los pronósticos que estamos estudiando los profesionales de al Historia, es muy cierto que disminuirá el número de creyentes en Él. Personalmente lo siento, pero el mensaje de la Era Acuariana es, por fin, un mensaje coherente en el que se van a poner en claro muchísimas cosas. Sucede, sin embargo, que las claves del pensamiento en Jesucristo tendrán siempre actualidad, del mismo modo que tienen actualidad hoy días las claves del pensamiento de Confucio o de Buda. Pasada la primera racha de entusiasmo marxista, preveo una caída en picado del materialismo ateo. Eso, hasta ahora, me parece bien claro.

Jesucristo, publicación semanal (published by Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos & Editorial Miñon), BS 4, #7, page 30.