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Friedrich Nietzsche Pedagogy

Crusade

against the Cross, 3

When one delves deeply into Nietzsche’s biography, curious anecdotes come to light that would be hard to imagine for those who are only familiar with his late writings.

Much has been said, for example, about the friendship between Richard Wagner and Nietzsche. But few know that Wagner was born in 1813: the year Nietzsche’s father was born. When Nietzsche was a little boy playing with his sister Elisabeth with tin soldiers and the porcelain figure ‘Squirrel King’ was executing rebels, the revolutionary Wagner was in serious trouble with the king and his life was spared because he was a conductor. The still-small Nietzsche was on the side of the rulers in his Christian kingdom. There were to be no revolutions.

When Nietzsche would later write about his life, he didn’t remember his home in Röcken except for the image of the parish priest, the father, whom he continued to idealise even after he had finished The Antichrist. Indeed, since his father had died when Nietzsche was four years old, the memories of Prussian discipline the priest had meted out to him, in which the little boy would furiously retreat to the toilet to rage alone, were left out of his memory (his mother would later tell some anecdotes about her young son’s life). The idealisation of the parish priest was such that, in the words of Werner Ross, ‘Nietzsche was to merge with his father to form a single figure with him’.

In the family it was taken for granted that little Fritz would become a clergyman like his father. His mother, who put him to bed, told him: ‘If you go on like this, I’ll have to carry you to bed in my arms until you study theology’. Fritz was an obedient child who knew several Bible passages and religious songs by heart so that his schoolmates called him ‘the little shepherd’, who was impressed above all by religious music.

But since the pietistic oppression was a thorn his body began to rebel. In 1856, when Fritz was already a dozen years old, he began to suffer from head and eye ailments. Although he received special holidays for this reason, from that age he would always suffer from these psychosomatic complaints (which would only be alleviated thirty-two years later, with the catharsis of writing several books in a few months, including The Antichrist).

The young Fritz would sneak into the cathedral to watch the rehearsals of the Requiem and was shocked to hear the Dies Irae. At the age of fourteen he entered the famous school in Pforta, where he received an excellent humanistic education and his love of music increased, although he continued to suffer from severe headaches.

Schulpforta near Naumburg in Germany, a boarding school system for advantaged pupils.

At Schulpforta he even attempted a Mass for solo, choir and orchestra, and at the age of sixteen, he sketched a Misere for five voices. At seventeen the parson’s son was ready to die to meet Jesus, and when another of his friends trained in Prussian education (broken in like a horse I’d better say!) received the conformation, he wrote: ‘with the earnest promise you enter the line of adult Christians who are held worthy of our Saviour’s most precious legacy’.

Nevertheless, the first signs of rebellion, albeit still unconsciously, began to spontaneously sprout in his seventeenth year. In the Easter holidays of 1862, the student Nietzsche wrote to the union of his friends, under the title Fate and History, a prophetic declaration: ‘But, as soon as it would be possible to overthrow the entire past of the world with a strong will, we would enter the roll of the independent Gods’.

Schulpforta’s severe discipline had been a kind of convent to train not only Nietzsche but also the rest of the inmates, but the adolescent Nietzsche, always at the head of the class and lacking an esprit de corps, was such a good boy that in cases of insubordination he sided with the teachers.

In his thick volume (866 pages in the edition I have) Ross comments that the letters of the pupil Nietzsche are empty of content, in the sense that his inner life was still hermetically sealed off from him. Nevertheless, when the lad Nietzsche left Schulpforta on 7 September 1864, close to his twentieth birthday, and the following month went to study theology and classical philology at the University of Bonn, thanks to his Prussian education he already had the resources for a premature doctorate.

Categories
Friedrich Nietzsche Pedagogy

Crusade

against the Cross, 2

 

Lutheran father (1813-1849).

Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche was born on 15 October 1844 in the small town of Röcken, near Lützen in Thuringia. Formerly part of the kingdom of Saxony, it was annexed to Prussia in 1815. Nietzsche was the first-born son of the local Protestant pastor, Karl Ludwig Nietzsche (pictured above), who at the age of thirty had married a woman of seventeen. A year after the wedding, Friedrich was born, followed a couple of years later by his sister Elisabeth (Nietzsche’s younger brother was born afterwards, but died at the age of two). What is important to report is that, among the ancestors of the future philosopher, on both the paternal and maternal sides, there were several generations of theologians.

The main biographies on which I will rely for this biographical series are the very voluminous treatises by Curt Paul Janz and Werner Ross. The latter, who unlike Janz writes with humour, mentions that exactly at the moment when Nietzsche was born the bells were ringing for the king’s birthday service. The parson’s eyes filled with tears as he uttered: ‘My son, on this earth you shall be called Friedrich Wilhelm in memory of my royal benefactor, for you were born on his birthday’. He added that his son would be so-called because that is what Luther’s Bible said. Friedrich Wilhelm IV, by the way, was no friend of the ideals of the French Revolution. Although benevolent, through the Holy Alliance he longed for a return to feudal times even with knights, orders and castles.

Little Friedrich Wilhelm was instilled from the outset with the messianic consciousness of being a son of the medieval king and a son of God. To use my language, I would say that Nietzsche was a slave to parental introjects. So much so that, decades later, when he suddenly fell into a state of psychosis and his friend Overbeck came to his rescue in Turin, he realised that only by telling the disturbed man that royal receptions awaited him, did Nietzsche obey to leave Italy. And when somewhat later Langbehn accompanied Nietzsche on his walks in the asylum at Jena in Germany, he said: ‘He is a child and a king; he must be treated as the son of a king that he is. That is the only correct method’.

But in this psychological study I’m getting too far ahead of myself. Let’s go back to his childhood. The thing is that, like Kant, Nietzsche was brought up in pietism. But Kant’s defence mechanism was to shut down all his emotions and he tried to do philosophy as a sort of Mr Spock through pure reason, like a soulless computer. Nietzsche’s defence mechanism against severe pietism would be the diametrical opposite: the mythopoetic explosion of emotions, as we shall see in this series. What we must now tell is that the little Nietzsche was not allowed, in such a Prussian upbringing, to vent his emotions, let alone his anger. Janz’s multi-volume biography informs us of this:

As soon as the eldest son began to talk a little, the father took to spending some of his free time with him. The child did not disturb him in his study cabinet, where, as the mother writes, gazed ‘Silently and thoughtfully’ at the father while he worked. But it was when the father ‘fantasised’ at the piano that the child was most enthusiastic. Already at the age of one year, little Fritz, as everyone called him, would sit in his pram on such occasions and pay attention to his father, completely silent and without taking his eyes off him. However, it cannot be said that during these early years, he was always a good and obedient child. When something did not seem right to him, he would lie on the ground and kick his little legs furiously. The father, it seems, proceeded against this with great energy, despite which the child must have continued for a long time to cling to his stubbornness whenever he was denied anything he wanted; but he no longer rebelled, but, without a word, retired to some quiet corner or to the lavatory, where he bore his anger alone.

Unlike what Alice Miller wrote about little Fritz in The Untouched Key, Janz didn’t suspect that the severe pietistic upbringing might have been abusive.

When Nietzsche was four years old his father died, perhaps of a stroke (it is not clear that the Nietzsche family’s claim that this was due to his falling down the stairs is true). The family moved to Naumburg and Fritz found himself, from then on, as the only male in a household of women: his mother, grandmother, two aunts and younger sister.

The adult women were to teach pious Christian virtues to little Fritz.

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Art Film Pedagogy

Ten films

I left the previous posts for a few days without adding new ones because it is of some importance that at least some visitors to The West’s Darkest Hour find out that in the racialist forums a troll is impersonating me supported by… the moderators! But I made magnificent use of the time to finish the last few pages of the third book of my trilogy. So—

Thanks, Brad!

Thanks Jewish troll!

 

______ 卐 ______

 

“L’art pour l’art values must be transvalued to Art practiced in conformity with the cultural task” —Francis Parker Yockey (rephrased).

In 2013 I posted a list of what were, at the time, my ten favourite films and last year I confessed that, having taken my vows as a priest of the sacred words, I could no longer watch many of the 50 films I once loved. So I would like to compile a new list of ten films that, if I were to adopt an Aryan son,[1] I would allow him to watch. Sorted by the year they were released, this new list would be:

 
1. Beauty and the Beast (1946)

2. Hamlet (1948)

3. Lust for Life (1956)

4. 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

5. Death in Venice (1971)

6. Sense & Sensibility (1995)

7. Indictment: The McMartin Trial (1995)

8. Pride & Prejudice (1995 TV series)

9. Pride & Prejudice (2005 movie)

10. Spotlight (2015)
 

In the case of the first on the list, it is only because of our interpretation of it that I recommend it. Why I put the second one on my new list, which also appears on my 2013 list, is explained by clicking the link above on Hamlet.

But the third one doesn’t appear on my old list. As I own several Vincent van Gogh books, including a huge illustrated one with his complete works, I recommend Lust for Life because, like Hitler, it seems to me essential that the Aryan who wants to save his race from extinction should make deep contact with the art of painting; and the film, based on an entertaining novel that I read, transports us to the places where brother Vincent lived.

Of articles by intellectuals, John Gardner was the first white nationalist I ever read, in 2009, when I returned to this continent from Spain. In one of his TOQ Online articles Gardner said that 2001: A Space Odyssey managed to put the white man’s aesthetics in its place, which I agree with.

Why I include Death in Venice is guessed at in ‘Transvaluation Explained’ and ‘Puritanical Gomorrah’ in my book Daybreak, but most of my list (#6, #8 and #9) concerns films about Jane Austen’s novels. As for the remaining ones, Indictment and Spotlight, just click on the links in the above list to see why I include them.

Note that, unlike my 2013 list, my criteria is no longer to include films based on their artistic quality but on what Yockey says above. The film about the medieval monk Andrei Rublev for example is highly artistic to the true connoisseur of cinematic art. But I wouldn’t show it to my son, at least not until he had developed a sufficiently anti-Christian criterion to realise that the pagan Russians should never have embraced a religion of Semitic origin.

I can say something similar about Sleeping Beauty, which appears on my previous top ten list, although this is a fairly tale. It makes me a little nervous that at the climax Maleficent invokes all the powers of Lucifer, and that Prince Philip’s coat of arms bears a Christian cross. A child, of course, wouldn’t notice that. But what Walt Disney had done, collaborating with the American government in times of anti-Nazi propaganda through another of his cartoons caricaturing the Third Reich, I cannot forgive.

Likewise, in my new list I didn’t include 1968’s Planet of the Apes which was on the old list because a child shouldn’t see a black astronaut next to a good-looking Aryan actor like Charlton Heston. The same I must say about another of my favourites that I removed from the old list: Artificial Intelligence, where in the first scene the Jew Spielberg puts a compassionate Negress in front of a huge team of scientists who want to design a robot child with real feelings.

The 1977 film Iphigenia was also taken off my list. Although Iphigenia is a masterful adaptation of Euripides’ tragedy many of the actors, unlike the hyper-Nordic Homeric Greeks, are already mudbloods (of course: the film’s actors were contemporary Greeks!). A boy brought up in National Socialism ought not to be fooled by such images.

If someone asks me now, after taking my vows, which of the above list of ten are now my favourite films, they will be surprised to learn that they are all three based on Austen’s novels. That’s exactly the right message of sexual courtship that Aryans, young and old, should see on the big and small screens if we have the fourteen words in mind.

_________

[1] Although the lad I was doesn’t look too bad in the Metapedia picture, as a priest I can’t sire because my bloodline is as compromised as the Greek actors mentioned above.

Categories
Pedagogy Psychology

Narcissism, 4

Yesterday I ended my post by mentioning the word introject. Like all other cultures, the West is in a very primitive state as far as self-knowledge is concerned. If we take ancient Delphi as a paragon of Aryan wisdom, even the most prominent western thinkers and philosophers of the Christian Era have been but slaves to what I have metaphorically called ‘Semitic malware’ (Judeo-Christianity): the introjects of their parents and educators. I only discovered this in my own mind when, well into my sixties, writing a passage in my third autobiographical book, I was astonished to discover that my mind had, literally, been programmed with Christian introjects since childhood. The details I explain there but suffice it to say here that, before that passage in my last book, I was under the impression that I had been a relatively free and moral agent—precisely the Christian belief in free will—, and that my father’s influence wasn’t as absolute as, now, I am astonished to acknowledge.

But in this entry, I don’t want to talk about autobiography but about biographies. In my 2021 post, ‘On Shelob’s Lair’, I had said that Francis Bacon regarded metaphysical philosophers as weavers of cobwebs. Now I would like to delve a little deeper into Immanuel Kant’s biography.

This German was born in 1724 in Königsberg, which was East Prussia: territories Germany lost after WW2. If the so-called philosophers were lovers of wisdom, as the etymology of the word philosophy says, Prussia would still be part of a German Reich. We can already imagine a world where, instead of metaphysical cobwebs, the great philosophers of classical German idealism, starting with Kant, would have devoted themselves to what Gobineau (1816-1882) would eventually devote himself to: the study of the races. But I am getting ahead of myself.

Kant was educated in the stern spirit of Protestant pietism: first by his mother, a pious woman, and then at the Collegium Fridericianum, famous as a pietistic school. During 1740-1746 the lad Kant continued to be brainwashed with theology at the University of Königsberg, where he was greatly influenced by Christian Wolff. If we keep in mind what was said about the role played by the mother in the previous entry, it becomes clear that from an early age the introjects are a kind of building blocks that form a psychic edifice: the structure of a mind in the making. There is no point in giving the details of Kant’s life as a young man because it is clear that his mind was already Christianly structured from an earlier age.

In his late thirties, it is important to mention that Kant wrote Der einzig mögliche Beweisgrund zu einer Demonstration des Daseins Gottes (The Only Possible Argument in Support of a Demonstration of the Existence of God). Since the young philosopher lived during the Age of Enlightenment, although he never wanted to destroy metaphysics, he did want to put it on new critical foundations. This reminds me that a well-known proponent of the American racial right once called himself a ‘neo-normie’. Kant’s metaphysics was actually a ‘neo-theology’, as we are about to see.

Kant worked for many years on his major work, Critique of Pure Reason, published in 1781 (he died in his hometown in 1804). But what is ‘metaphysics’ according to Kant? Kant simply starts from the conceptions of his time, when philosophy had been trying to become independent of theology as an infant tries to individuate himself before a schizogenic mother. This is so true that Kant himself declares that the contents of metaphysics are no more and no less than the contents of Christian theology. He writes that the ‘inevitable tasks of pure reason are God, freedom and immortality’ (B7). And later he reiterates: ‘Metaphysics has as the specific aim of its investigation only three ideas: God, freedom and immortality’ (B 395).

It couldn’t be clearer: due to the introjects of his early age, the mature philosopher remains the servant of the Christian theologian. (A philosopher of a true age of enlightenment would use the plural to refer to providence, as he would be a man who has already transvalued the monotheistic values of Judeo-Christianity to the Gods of the Delphic inscription.) It doesn’t matter that in his first Critique Kant concludes that metaphysics, as a science, is not possible. The fact that he even returns to the same triad—God, the immortality of the human soul and freedom—when he already writes about ‘practical reason’ speaks for itself. Kant even states: ‘I had therefore to do away with knowledge to make room for faith’ (B XXX).

As I said in ‘Shelob’s Liar’, Kant’s prose is abominable. This major spider was a creature who never successfully rebelled against maternal and scholastic introjects. Even his so-called pure, a priori knowledge was a conception of metaphysics that was rooted in the Cartesian approach and Leibniz’s analytical judgements: a type of metaphysics already removed from the Aristotelian tradition. Let us not forget that, among Christian Wolff’s disciples, there were several 18th-century philosophers, including Kant.

Quite apart from the fact that the obscurantist prose of the exponents of classical German idealism is intolerable to any sane reader, my point is obvious. The human mind is a structure. Our parents and guardians lay the bricks of the structure that will become our egos, against which it’s very difficult to rebel successfully. Recall the quote from Margaret Mahler in the previous entry, who in analysing the psychology of toddlers discovered that interpersonal relationships are internalised within the ego or what we call the Self. Once internalised, we are slaves to what we have been calling ‘parental introjects’, even the so-called great philosophers.
 

The first cousin

If Kant, the greatest German philosopher of the so-called Age of Reason, was a creature of mom’s introjects, what could a little Mexican do in the face of the introjects of an even more engulfing mother than a pietistic one raising her child with Prussian ethics?

I invited Marco’s cousin again, who came to my house this very day that I’m writing, whom I won’t mention by name and surname because, given that the name ‘Marco’ I have used is real, and that the only person who visits him in his cobwebbed house is his cousin, I don’t want some Spanish-speaking person in the curious country where I live to find out, through Google, that I’ve been writing about them.

Anyway, I hope tomorrow to continue unravelling this bizarre psychodrama with another entry.

Categories
Mein Kampf (book) Pedagogy Savitri Devi Souvenirs et réflexions d'une aryenne (book)

Against compulsory education

It’s curious, but these days I have been thinking that what was missing for my worldview to be complete was a critique of the traditional pedagogical system (which, by the way, contributed greatly to destroying my adolescent life). And today, in the same chapter of the Heydrich quote I posted yesterday, I come across this passage from Savitri Devi:

The absolute rejection of ‘free and compulsory’ education—the same for all—is another of the main features that bring the society that Adolf Hitler dreamed of establishing, and already that of the Third Reich itself, closer to the traditional societies of the past. Already in Mein Kampf the idea of identical education for young men and women is rejected with the utmost rigour.

It isn’t possible to give the same education to young people whom Nature has destined to different and complementary functions. Similarly, one cannot teach the same things, and in the same spirit, even to young people of the same sex who, later on, will have to engage in unrelated activities. To do so would be to burden their memory with a heap of information which they, for the most part, have no use for while, at the same time, depriving them of valuable knowledge and neglecting the formation of their character.

Later on, Savitri continues:

Hitler considered the superficial study of foreign languages and the sciences to be particularly useless for the great majority of the sons (and even more so for the daughters) of the folk… But there is more, and much more. In a European society dominated by its Germanic elite, such as the Führer would have rebuilt it (if he had been able), education, culture and even more the practical probability of advanced spiritual development, had to regain the secret character—properly initiatory—which they had had in the most remote antiquity, among the Aryan peoples and others: the Germans of the Bronze Age as well as in the Egypt of the Pharaohs, and India. They were to be reserved for the privileged.

And finally:

The secrecy of all science in the future Hitlerian civilisation and the efforts already made under the Third Reich to limit, as far as possible, the misdeeds of general education—that ‘most corrosive poison’ of liberalism—evoke the curse that, thousands of years ago and in all traditional societies, was aimed at all those who would have divulged, especially to people of impure blood, the knowledge which the priests had given to them.

Can you see why the science educators who used TV for the masses, Bronowski and Sagan, were wrong on this point?

Categories
Bible Christendom Eschatology Karlheinz Deschner Kriminalgeschichte des Christentums (books) Pedagogy Theology

Christianity’s Criminal History, 102

Editors’ note: To contextualise these translations of Karlheinz Deschner’s encyclopaedic history of the Church in 10-volumes, Kriminalgeschichte des Christentums, read the abridged translation of Volume I. In the previous chapter, not translated for this site, the author describes the high level of education in the Greco-Roman world before the Christians burned entire libraries and destroyed an amazing quantity of classical art.

 
Since the time of Jesus Christianity has taught to hate everything that is not at God’s service

The Gospel was originally an apocalyptic, eschatological message, a preaching of the imminent end of the world. The faith of Jesus and his disciples was, in this respect, firm as a rock, so that any pedagogical question lacked any relevance for them. They did not show the slightest interest in education or culture. Science and philosophy, as well as art, did not bother them at all.

We had to wait no less than three centuries to have a Christian art. The ecclesiastical dispositions, even those enacted in later times, measure artists, comedians, brothel owners and other types with the same theological standard.

Soon it was the case that the ‘fisherman’s language’ (especially, it seems, that of the Latin Bibles) provoked mockery throughout all the centuries, although the Christians defend it ostensibly. This, in despite Jerome and Augustine confess on more than one occasion how much horror is caused by the strange, clumsy and often false style of the Bible. Augustine even said it sounded like stories of old women! (In the 4th century some biblical texts were poured into Virgil hexameters, without making them any less painful.) Homines sine litteris et idiotae (illiterate and ignorant men), thus the Jewish priests describe the apostles of Jesus in the Latin version of the Bible.

As the Kingdom of God did not come upon the Earth, the Church replaced it with the Kingdom of Heaven to which the believers had to orient their entire lives. This meant according the plans of the Church; for the benefit of the Church, and in the interest of the high clergy. For whenever and wherever this clergy speaks of the Church, of Christ, of God and of eternity, it does so solely and exclusively for their own benefit. Pretending to advocate for the health of the believer’s soul, they thought only of their own health. All the virtues of which Christianity made special propaganda, that is, humility, faith, hope, charity, and more, lead to that final goal.

In the New Testament it is no longer human pedagogy what matters, which is barely addressed. What is at stake is the pedagogy of divine redemption.

In the work of Irenaeus, creator of a first theological pedagogy, Clement of Alexandria, Origen, Gregory of Nazianzus and Gregory of Nyssa, the idea of a divine pedagogy is often discussed and God becomes the proper educator. Ergo all education must, in turn, be engaged in the first and last line of God and this must be his role.

That is why Origen teaches that ‘we disdain everything that is chaotic, transient and apparent and we must do everything possible to access life with God’. Hence, John Chrysostom requires parents to educate ‘champions of Christ’ and that they should demand the early and persistent reading of the Bible. Hence, Jerome, who once called a little girl a recruit and a fighter for God, wrote that ‘we do not want to divide equally between Christ and the world’.

‘All education is subject to Christianization’ (Ballauf). Nor does the Doctor of the Church Basil consider ‘an authentic good he who only provides earthly enjoyment’. What was encouraged is the ‘attainment of another life’. That is ‘the only thing that, in our opinion, we should love and pursue with all our strength. All that is not oriented to that goal we must dismiss as lacking in value’.

Such educational principles that are considered chimerical, or ‘worthless’ (everything that does not relate to a supposed life after death), find their foundation even in Jesus himself: ‘If someone comes to me and does not hate his father, his mother, his wife, his children, his brothers, his sisters and even his own life, he can not be my disciple’.

How many misfortunes such words have been sowing for two thousand years…

Categories
Ancient Greece Arthur C. Clarke Pedagogy Philosophy Plato Socrates

The Story of Philosophy, 7

To save the white race from extinction it is not enough to start using the Semitic words that our Christian parents instilled in us as insults to Neo-Christian Aryans. We also have to make a destructive critique of what we have inherited from the secular world in the West. I have said that, if theology has been the wicked party for the West (tomorrow I’ll resume Deschner’s chapter on St Augustine), philosophy has been the stupid party. On Plato, I have little to add about the stupidities of his philosophy to what has already been said in the previous article of this series. But I still would like to say something.
In the section of Durant’s book, ‘The Ethical Problem’, Plato puts Thrasymachus discussing with Socrates. I must confess that I find quite irritating the figure of Socrates, with his eternal questions always putting on the defensive his opponents. If I had walked on the streets of Pericles’ Athens, I would have told Socrates what Bill O’Reilly told Michael Moore when he met him on the street: that he would answer his questions to Moore as long as he in turn answered O’Reilly’s questions. Otherwise we are always on the defensive against Socrates/Moore.
On the next page, Durant talks about the Gorgias dialogue and says that ‘Callicles denounces morality as an invention of the weak to neutralize the strength of the strong’. In the next section of the same chapter Durant quotes the Protagoras dialogue: ‘As to the people they have no understanding, and only repeat what their rulers are pleased to tell them’. Some pages later Durant quotes one of the passages in which I completely agree with Plato:

The elements of instruction should be presented to the mind in childhood, but not with any compulsion; for a freeman should be a freeman too in the acquisition of knowledge.
Knowledge which is acquired under compulsion has no hold on the mind. Therefore do not use compulsion, but let early education be rather a sort of amusement; this will better enable you to find out the natural bent of the child.

But several pages later Durant tells us that ‘the guardians will have no wives’ and about empowered women, he adds:

But whence will these women come? Some, no doubt, the guardians will woo out of the industrial or military classes; others will have become, by their own right, members of the guardian class. For there is to be no sex barrier of any kind in this community; least of all in education—the girl shall have the same intellectual opportunities as the boy, the same chance to rise to the highest positions in the state.

One would imagine that Durant would strenuously rebel against this feminism in ancient Athens, but no. In the final section of the chapter, devoted to Durant’s criticism of the philosopher, he wrote instead:

What Plato lacks above all, perhaps, is the Heracleitean sense of flux and change; he is too anxious to have the moving picture of this world become a fixed and still tableau…
Essentially he is right—is he not?—what this world needs is to be ruled by its wisest men. It is our business to adapt his thought to our own times and limitations. Today we must take democracy for granted: we cannot limit the suffrage as Plato proposed…
…and that would be such equality of educational opportunity as would open to all men and women, irrespective of the means of their parents, the road to university training and political advancement.

Will Durant, who wrote this book in the 1920s, was nothing but a normie. And compared with us, white nationalists are normies too: as they have not figured out that, in addition to Jewry, they have enemies in the very fabric of history, which is why Plato proposed a static state.
A dynamic society is not recommended because, as we have said elsewhere, the human being is not ready for Prometheus’ fire. Since the Industrial Revolution whites have done nothing but commit ethnic suicide for the simple fact that they are still children playing with matches who burn their own house. That is why, at the end of my ¿Me Ayudarás?, I recommend a static society as Arthur Clarke described it in Against the Fall of Night when writing about Lys, a novella later expanded into The City and the Stars: the utopia that I imagine with the paintings of Le Lorraine.

Categories
Alice Miller Aztecs Child abuse Day of Wrath (book) Human sacrifice Mayas Pedagogy Psychology

Day of Wrath, 10


“The best education of the world”
In each Maya city there were two wells: one for drinking water and the other as an oracle to throw the girls almost twenty meters below. When brought out at noon, if they had not died in the cold water they were asked: “What did the gods say to you?” The Maya girls got back at their babies by tying their feet and hands up. And they did something else. Artificial cranial deformation had been practiced since prehistory, with Greek physicians mentioning the practice in some towns. The Mayas placed boards at the sides of the newborn’s cranium to mold it, when it is still plastic, to form the egg-shaped heads that the archeologists have found. Furthermore, the parents also placed objects between their baby’s eyes to make them cross-eyed. Just as the elongated heads, this was a sign of beauty. (When Hernández de Córdova ventured in the Yucatán coast in 1517 he took with himself two cross-eyed Indians he thought could be useful as interpreters.) Once grown, the children had to sacrifice their own blood: the boys had to bleed their penises and the girls their tongues. Some Mayas even sacrificed their children by delivering them alive to the jaguars.
Without specifically referring to Mesoamerican childrearing, deMause has talked about what he calls “projective care.” During the fearful nemotemi, the five nefarious days for the Mexicans, parents did not allow their children sleep “so that they would not turn into rats.” Let us remember the psychodrama of the self-harmer girl in Ross’ paradigm and take one step forward. Let us imagine that, once married, she projected on her own child the self-hatred. Such “care” of not letting the children to sleep was, actually, a case of dissociation with the adult projecting onto the child the part of her self that she was taught to self-hate. Another example: In the world of the Mexica the first uttered words addressing the newborn told him that he was a captive. Just like the shrieks that made the chroniclers shudder, the midwife shouted since it was believed that childbirth was a combat and, by being born, the child a seized warrior. The newborn was swaddled and kindly told: “My son, so loved, you shall know and comprehend that your home is not here. Your office is giving the sun the blood of the enemies to drink.” The creature has barely come to the world and it already has enemies. The newborn is not born with rights but with duties: he is not told that he will be cared for, but that he is destined to feed the great heavenly body. (DeMause has written about this inversion of the parental-filial roles in his studies about western babies in more recent centuries.) In the Mexica admonition the shadow of infanticide by negligence is also cast. “We do not know if you will live much,” the newborn was told in another exhortation.
Tlazolteotl, goddess of infancy, grabbing a child by the hair.
In the illustration can be noted the similarity of Tlazolteotl with the image of the warrior and his captive in the previous chapter. Just like that image, the goddess grabs the hair as a symbol of dominion. One of the few true things that Elsié Méndez told me, a woman so much criticized in my previous book, were certain words she pronounced that I remember verbatim: “La mamá lo pepena” [The mom grabs him] referring to those mothers of our times that choose one of their children to control him to the point of psychic strangulation.
In May of 1998 I listened in Mexican television Miguel León Portilla, the best-known indigenista scholar in Mexico, saying that the Mexica education was “the best education of the world.” Almost a decade later I purchased a copy of the Huehuetlatolli that León-Portilla commented, which includes one page in Nahuatl. The Huehuetlatolli were the moralizing homilies in the first years of the children: ubiquitous advices in Nahua pedagogy. They were not taught in the temples but from the parents to their children, even among the most humble workers, within the privacy of the home. In the words of León-Portilla: “Fathers and mothers, male teachers and female teachers, to educate their children and pupils they transmitted these messages of wisdom.” The exordiums were done in an elegant and educated language, the model of expression that would be used at school. A passage from the Huehuetlatolli of a father to his son that Andrés de Olmos transcribed to Spanish says:

We are still here—we, your parents—who have put you here to suffer, because with this the world is preserved.

This absolute gem depicts in a couple of lines the Mexica education. Paying no attention to these kind of words, on the next page León-Portilla comments: “Words speak now very high of its [the Mexica’s] moral and intellectual level.” Later, in the splendid edition of the Huehuetlatolli that I possess, commented by the indigenista, the sermon says: “Do not make of your heart your father, your mother.”
This advice is the perfect antithesis to Pindar’s “Become what you are!” which summarizes the infinitely more advanced Greek culture of two thousand years before. While León-Portilla describes the Nahua exordiums as highly wise and moral, they actually represent a typical case of poisonous pedagogy [a term explained in my previous book]. If there is something clear after reading the Huehuetlatolli is that that education produced no individuals whatsoever: other people lived the lives of the children, adolescents and youths who are exhorted interminably. What is worse: while León-Portilla praised the education of the ancient Mexicans on national television, at the same time the program displayed codex images depicting pubescent children tied up on their wrists and ankles, with thorns sank into their bodies and tears on their faces. The indigenista had omitted to say that “the punishments rain over the child” as Jacques Soustelle wrote in Daily Life of the Aztecs. The Mexica parents scratched their children with maguey thorns. They also burned red chili peppers and placed their child over the acrid smoke.

Codex Mendoza, page 60: Punishes to children ages 11 to 14.
Note the tears of the child and the sign of admonition
near the father’s mouth.

Another punishment mentioned in the codex was the beating of the child with sticks. Motolinía, Juan de Torquemada, Durán and Sahagún corroborated that the education was fairly severe. It is germane to note that in the mode of childrearing that deMause calls “intrusive,” the striking with objects is considered more prejudicial for the self-image of the child than the spanking of the psychoclass he calls “socializing.” It is also important to note that the parents were the ones who physically abused the children. It is true that the language of the Huehuetlatolli is very sweet: “Oh my little daughter of mine, little dove! These words I have spoken so that you may make efforts to…” But in the first book of this series I demonstrated the short circuit that produces in a child’s mentality this sort of “Jekyll-Hyde” alternation in the parental dynamics with their child.
The Mexicas copied from the Mayas the custom of selling their children. The sold out children had to work hard or they would be punished. A poor family could sell their child as a slave to get out from a financial problem. This still happened in the times when the Spaniards arrived. The noble that stole his father could be punished with death, and it is worth saying that the great draughts of 1450-1454 were dealt with the massive sacrifice of children to the water deities.
Which was the attitude that the child had to had toward such parents? In Nahuatl the suffix -tzin was aggregated to the persons that would be honored. Totatzin is our respected father. In previous pages I noted that the frenetic dances discharged the affects contained in the Mexica psyche. Taking into account that in such education the child was not allowed to live his or her feelings—as it is clearly inferred from the texts cited by León-Portilla (not only the Huehuetlatolli but educational texts in general)—, the silhouette of what had to be discharged starts to be outlined.
In Izcalli, the last month of the Mexica calendar, the children were punctured on the ears and the blood was thrown to the fire. As I said, at ten the boy’s hair was cut leaving a lock that would not be cut until, already grown, he would take a prisoner. In one way or the other every Mexica male had to participate in the seizure of victims for the serial killing. Those who could not make prisoners had to renounce the military theocracy and resign themselves with being macehuallis: workers or plebeians attached to their fields who, under the penalty of death, were forbidden to usurp the honorific symbols of feathers, boarded dresses and jewels. The macehuallis formed the bulk of the society. On the other hand, he who captured four prisoners arrived with a single jump at the upper layer of society. To excel in the seizure of men for the serial killing was so relevant that “he who was born noble could die slave.”
Both on national television and in his writings, León-Portilla is filled with pride that the ancient Mexicans were the only peoples in the world that counted with obligatory schooling in the 16th century. The indigenista belongs to the generation of my father, when children’s rights were unheard as a subject, let alone parental abuse. The form in which the Nahuas treated their children, that presently would be considered abusive, was continued at school. The school education to harden the soul of the elite, the Calmécac (“house of tears”) consisted of penances and self-harming with maguey thorns. Another case of the father’s projective care was the advice to his son about the ultra-Spartan education he would be exposed in the boarding school:

Look, son: you have to be humble and looked down on and downhearted […], you shall take out blood from your body with the maguey thorn, and take night baths even though it is too cold […]. Don’t take it as a burden, grin and bear it the fasting and the penance.

“Don’t take it as a burden” means do not feel your feelings. According to Motolinía, this most beloved practice of homiletic admonitions was even longer for the girls. In the boarding school the boy had to abandon the bed to take a bath in the cold water of the lake or a fountain. As young as seven-year-olds were encouraged to break from the affective attachment at home: “And don’t think, son, inside of you ‘my mother and my father live’. Don’t remember any of these things.”
Because the child was consecrated for war since birth, the education at schools was basically military. The strictly hierarchical system promised the striving young to escalate to the level of tequiuaque and even higher if possible. If the boy of upper classes did not want to become a warrior he had another option: priesthood. About his twentieth year he had to make a choice: a military life or a celibate and austere life, starting with playing the drum or helping the priest with the sacrifices. Severity was extreme: one of Netzahualcoyotl’s laws punished by death the drunk or lusty priest. No society, not even the Islamic, has been so severe with adultery and alcoholism: crimes where the capital punishment was applied both for the male and the female. The macehuallis who got drunk were killed in front of the adolescents. (The equivalent today would be that American schoolchildren were required to witness the executions of the pot addicts in the electric chair, as a warning.) The Calmécac were both schools and monasteries ruled by priests in black clothes. In the Florentine Codex an image can be seen of adolescents wearing dresses made of fresh human skins. We can imagine the emotional after-effects that such practice, fostered by the adult world, caused in the boys.
In the Nahua world it was frowned upon that the youth expressed his grudges and it was considered acceptable that he restrained and controlled himself. No insolent individual, Soustelle tells us, “no one who talked what came to his mouth was placed in the real throne,” and the elite were the first ones to submit to the phlegmatic code. And it was not merely a matter of concealing the grudges when, say, a boy or a girl learnt that their own parents had offered a little sister as sacrificial payment. The parents advised them in the ubiquitous sermons: “Look that your humility not be feigned, because then it will be told of you titoloxochton, which means hypocrite.” In the Nahua world the child was manipulated through the combination of sweet and kind expressions with the most heinous adultism. The parents continued to sermon all of them, even “the experienced, the fully grown youth.”
 
An unquenchable sun
Tell me who are your gods and I will tell you who you are. The myth of the earth-goddess Tlaltecuhtli, who cried because she wanted to eat human hearts, cannot be more symbolic. Just as the father-sun would not move without sacrifices, the mother-earth would not give fruits if she was not irrigated with blood. Closely related to Tlaltecuhtli, Coatlicue, was also the goddess of the great destruction that devours everything living.
Sacrifices were performed in front of her; vicious rumors circulated around about “juicy babies” for the insatiable devourer. In the houses the common people always had an altar with figurines of a deity, generally the Coatlicue. (In our western mind one would expect to find the male god of the ancient Mexicans, Huitzilopochtli.) The terrible goddess demanded:

And the payment of your chests and your hearts would be that you will be conquering, you will be attacking and devastating all macehuallis, the villagers that are over there, in all places through which you pass. And to your war prisoners, which you will make captives, you will open their chest on a sacrificial stone, with the flint of an obsidian knife. And you will do offerings of their hearts and will eat their flesh without salt; only very little of it in the pot where the corn is cooked.

Of the Mexica I only have a few culinary roots, such as eating tortillas. Culturally speaking, the educated middle and high classes in Latin America are basically European, of the type of Spain or Portugal. If we compare the above passage with our authentic roots, say, the Christianized exordiums of Numbers or Leviticus against cannibalism and other practices, the difference cannot be greater. Likewise, the Mexica mythology cannot contrast more with the superior psychoclass of Greece: where Zeus opens the belly of his father, Cronus, who had swallowed his siblings establishing thus a new order in the cosmos.
The papas punctured their limbs as an act of penance for the gods. These gods were a split-off, dissociated or internalized images of the parents. Even the emperor frequently abandoned the bed at midnight to offer his blood with praying. The Anonymous Conqueror was amazed by the fact that, among all of the Earth’s creatures, the Americans were the most devoted to their religion; so much so that the common Indian offered himself by taking out blood from his body to offer it to the statues. The 16th century chronicler tells us that on the roads there were many shrines where the travelers poured their blood. If we remember the scene of the Mexican film El Apando, based on the homonym book by José Revueltas where a convicted offender in the Lecumberri penitentiary bled himself while the other prisoners told him that he was crazy, we can imagine the leap in psychogenesis. What was considered normal in the highest and most refined strata of the Mesoamerican world is abnormal even in the snake pits of modern Mexico. The most terrible form of Mexica self-harming that I have seen in the codexes appears on page 10 of the Codex Borgia: a youth pulling out his eye as symbol of penitence. This was like taking the disturbing Colin Ross paradigm about the little girl to its ultimate expression.
At the bottom of the Mesoamerican worldview it always appears the notion that the creature owes his life, and everything that exists, to his creators: paradigm of the blackest of pedagogies that we can imagine. [Schwarze Pädagogik, literally black pedagogy, is a term popularized by Alice Miller. English publishing houses translate it as “poisonous pedagogy.”] The Mesoamerican mythology speaks of the transgression of some gods to create life without their parents’ permission, thus making themselves equals with them. In the Maya texts it is said that these children “made themselves haughty” and that what they did was “against the will of the father and the mother.” The transgressors were expelled from heaven and to come back they had to sacrifice themselves. Two of them threw themselves alive into the bonfire and were welcomed by their pleased parents. The resonances of this myth appear in the practice of throwing the captives to the bonfire. We should remember Baudez’s analysis: Mesoamerican sacrifice replaces self-sacrifice. It is merely a substitute sacrifice “as it is shown in the first place by the primeval myths that precede self-sacrifice.” This original sin condemned human beings to the sacrificial institution since “they could not recognize their creators.” (When I reached this passage in Arqueología Mexicana I could not fail but remember my father’s phrase that injured me so badly, as recounted in my previous book, when he referred to the damned “because they didn’t recognize their Creator.”) The sacrificial institution thus understood was a score settling, a vendetta. Moreover, in some versions of the Mesoamerican cosmogony the sun gives weapons to the siblings faithful to their parents to kill the 400 unfaithful children. The faithful execute the bidding and thus feed their demanding parents: once more, the cultural antithesis of the successful rebellion by Zeus, who had rescued their siblings from the tyrannical parent.
The connection of childrearing with the sacrificial institution is so obvious that when the warrior made a captive he had it as his son—which explains why he could not participate in the post-sacrificial feast—and the captive had him as his lord father. Some historians even talk about dialogues. When making a prisoner, the capturer said: “Behold my beloved son,” and the prisoner responded: “Behold my honored father.” In one of the water holydays of the Tota forest, which means “Our Father,” a girl was taken beside the highest tree to be sacrificed. Each time that the priest lifted a heart toward the sky as a sun offering the catastrophe that threatens the universe was, once more, postponed because “without the red and warm elixir of the sacrificed victims the universe was doomed to freeze.” As modern schizophrenics reason, the universe of the common Mesoamerican, just as the bicameral minds of other cultures, was constantly threatened and exposed to a catastrophe. The primordial function of the human race was to feed their parents, intonan intota Tlaltecuhtli Tonatiuh, “to our mother and our father, the earth and the sun.” The elegance of these four Nahua words evokes the compact Latin.
In the Mexica world destiny was predetermined by the tonalpohualli, “the count of the days” of the calendar where an individual’s birth by astrological sign was his fate. If León-Portilla had in mind the pre-Columbian cultures, he erred in his article “Identidad y crisis” published in July of 2008 in Reforma, by concluding that in antiquity the sun was seen as the “provider of life.” Duverger makes the keen observation that the solar deity, which appears at the center of the calendar, was so distant that it was not even worshipped directly. Instead of providing life the insatiable deity demanded energy, under the penalty of freezing the world (“We are still here—we, your parents—who have put you here to suffer, because with this the world is preserved”). The noonday heavenly body is not a provider of energy: it demands it. The thirsty tongue that appears at the very center of the Stone of the Sun (also called Aztec Calendar) looks like a dagger: it represents the knife used during the sacrifices. The solar calendar with Tonatiuh at the center of the cosmos was an absolute destiny: he could not even be implored. It is important to mention the psychohistorical studies about the diverse deities of the most archaic form of infanticidal cultures: according to deMause, they were all too remote to be approached.
When I think of the musician that sacrificed himself voluntarily to Tezcatlipoca in the holyday of the month Tóxcatl, which according to Sahagún was a holiday as sacred to the Mexicas as Easter to Christians, I see the culture of the ancient Mexicans under all of its sun. (Pedro de Alvarado would perpetrate the massacre in the main temple when he feared he would be sacrificed after that holiday.) Baudez’s self-sacrificial observation deserves to be mentioned again. Like the martyr of Golgotha who had to drink from the calyx that deep down he wanted to take away from himself, only if the young Indian submitted voluntarily to the horrifying death he earned the inscrutable love of the father. This is identical to the most dissociated families in the Islamist world, as can be gathered from deMause’s article “If I blow myself up and become a martyr, I’ll finally be loved.” But unlike Alvarado and the conquerors’ metaphorical Easter (and even contemporary Islamists), the Mexicas literally killed their beloved one before decapitating him and showing off his head in the tzompantli.
Just as the mentality of the Ancient World’s most primitive cultures, in the Mesoamerican world, where the solar cycle reigned since the Mayas and perhaps before, “the sacrifice was performed to feed the parent with food (hearts) and drinking (blood).” I had said that the priests’ helpers gave the captive’s “father” a pumpkin full of warm blood of his “son.” With this blood he dampened the lips of the statues, the introjected and demanding “shadows” of their own parents, to feed them. The priests smeared their idols with fresh blood and, as Bernal Díaz told us, the principal shrines were soaked with stench scabs, including the pinnacle of the Great Teocalli.
In our times, the ones who belong to this psychoclass are those who show off their acts by smearing the walls with their victims’ blood: people who have suffered a much more regressive mode of childrearing than the average westerner. Richard Rhodes explains in Why they Kill that Lonnie Athens, the Darwin of postmodern criminology, discovered that those who commit violent crimes were horribly subjected to violence as children. One hundred percent of the criminals that Athens interviewed in the Iowa and California prisons had been brutalized in their tender years. Abby Stein has confirmed these findings (Journal of Psychohistory, 36,4, 320-27). It is worth saying that, due to the foundational taboo of the human mind, when in January of 2008 I edited the Wikipedia article “Criminology” it surprised me to find, in the section where I added mention to Athens, only the pseudoscientific biological theories about the etiology of the criminal mind.
An extreme case at the other side of the Atlantic was that of a serial killer of children, Jürgen Bartsch, analyzed by Alice Miller in For Your Own Good. Bartsch had been martyred at home in a far more horrific way than I was. Miller believes that Bartsch gloated over by seeing the panic-stricken looks in the children’s eyes; the children that he mutilated in order to see the martyred child that inhabited in Bartsch himself.
 
___________
The objective of the book is to present to the racialist community my philosophy of The Four Words on how to eliminate all unnecessary suffering. If life allows, next time I will reproduce here the section on the encounter of the Spaniards with the American natives. Those interested in obtaining a copy of Day of Wrath can request it: here.

Categories
Hypatia of Alexandria Pedagogy Science Slavery

On Carl Sagan’s “Cosmos”

In these hard days for me I’ve tried to distract myself with my favorite television series when I was much younger: the thirty episodes of The Champions and the thirteen of Cosmos by Carl Sagan.

Since I wrote about the former I’ve changed my mind. For example, I now see with respect the efforts of the late Alexandra Bastedo, one of the stars of The Champions, to create an animal sanctuary in West Sussex, England. The Champions was a detective fiction series in the late 1960s, but the anti-Nazi propaganda that appears in at least five episodes was something that I did not give importance to as a child.

The fame of The Champions in the late 1960s and early 70s pales compared to the fame of the series of scientific dissemination Cosmos a decade later. Sagan was of Jewish descent, something I did not know when, at the 1994 conference of the Committee for Skeptical Inquiry in Seattle (known in that year as the Committee for the Scientific Investigation of Claims of the Paranormal) I met him personally and shook his hand. Then I was as liberal as Sagan. Now I am a national socialist, so in my recent revisit to Sagan’s famous series I have new eyes.

In the final episode of Cosmos Sagan could not resist talking about the progress of liberating women, and that a new planetary consciousness was being created (referring in part to liberalism and progressivism). He criticized the ethnocentrism of Plato and Aristotle, who spoke of “the barbarians” when humanity is one for a hypothetical enlightened extraterrestrial. More than once in the series Sagan spoke of slavery as a cancer, sometimes giving the impression that it was the cause of the decline of the Greco-Roman world.

He mentioned the word racism as a bad thing, and in two of his programs they filmed a room with American children of all races: something inconceivable when Sagan was a kid. In Cosmos Sagan chose a negress kid for a lesson during that class of integrated children contemplating photos of the planets. Speaking about humanity in general, he or the producers inserted images of the people of India and colored children while Sagan’s voice in off described the high virtues of mankind: as if the colored were legitimate representatives of the white man’s will to decipher the universe.

There is a more general criticism I can elaborate about Cosmos. Since I loved the series in the early 1980s, when I liked science-fiction and the themes of space, I have changed radically. Now, like Nietzsche, I believe that we must be faithful to the Earth.

Most of Cosmos is an introduction to astronomy. But what good is studying the stars of the firmament when the Aryans, deceived by movie stars, commit ethno-suicide? The science that children and adolescents should know in this dark age should not be Byzantine but relevant. Children, adolescents and young people, as Bastedo saw well, should watch over the well-being of our cousins. In addition, whites must recognize the 14 words. Arthur Kemp summed up very well what the focus of knowledge should be on a Red Ice TV interview. The focus must be on history, more specifically, on how interbreeding has been the nemesis of the West throughout the millennia.

When I finished seeing Cosmos in my mature age it occurred to me that, if I had a young son, I would edit it by censuring not only the liberal propaganda, but most shots about astronomy with the exception of what Sagan calls the Cosmic calendar. That would mean significantly reducing the Cosmos series to practical and positive terrestrial messages, and the youth could see it in a couple of programs.

The recent events in my life have turned me into a priest of what I have now baptized as “the four words,” which I will explain in future articles. For the moment it is enough to say that in a future school, the priest of the 4 and 14 words could show the children these scenes taken from Cosmos:

From episode 1, what Sagan says about Eratosthenes and the beautiful ancient city of Alexandria.

From episode 2, what he says about a majestic tree (an oak) and man: we are related.

From episode 3, one of my favorite scenes of Cosmos: the recreation of the life of Johannes Kepler.

From episode 4, dedicated to the planet Venus, I would only rescue how some westerners self-deceived themselves by speculating there must be dinosaurs on Venus just because they saw through the telescope that it was covered in clouds.

From episode 5, dedicated to the planet Mars, I would only rescue something very similar: how the astronomer Percival Lowell self-deceived himself into believing that there were canals constructed by Martians.

From episode 6, the magnificent staging of the enlightened Netherlands in times of the densest darkness in large parts of Europe.

From episode 7, Sagan’s presentation of Democritus and Pythagoras, and his criticism of the latter’s mysticism.

From Episode 8, what Sagan says about Leonardo da Vinci but not what he says about Einstein. (Only the biographers of the future will be able to conclusively show whether or not this Einstein Jew stole his discoveries from white scientists.)

From episode 9, the didactic presentation of the periodic table of the elements.

From episode 10, only the recreation of the scenes of astronomer Milton Humason in his observatory.

From episode 11, the introduction to the science of the human brain, including the shots inside a cozy library.

From episode 12, the recreation of the life of Champollion, including his travel to Egypt.

From episode 13, what I consider the most important of the series: the tragedy of the destruction of the Library of Alexandria and the horrible murder of Hypatia by St Cyril’s mob. This is something that those white nationalists who cling to the religion of their parents do not dare to see.

A DVD containing this highly edited version of Cosmos could be educational for a young mind who wants to get initiated in the mysteries of the world and science. This would be for home-schooled kids of course: not for the kind that will protest Richard Spencer at Auburn tonight.

Categories
Autobiography Pedagogy Table talks (commercial translation)

Uncle Adolf’s table talk, 22

the-real-hitler

 

Night of 27th-28th September 1941

Misery—Social discrimination
—Organisation of study.

 
 
If my parents had been sufficiently well-to-do to send me to a School of Art, I should not have made the acquaintance of poverty, as I did. Whoever lives outside poverty cannot really become aware of it, unless by over-throwing a wall. The years of experience I owe to poverty—a poverty that I knew in my own flesh—are a blessing for the German nation.

We must pay attention to two things: 1. That all gifted adolescents are educated at the State’s expense. 2. That no door is closed to them.

Since I hadn’t been able to finish my secondary studies, an officer’s career would have been closed to me, even if by working I had learnt more about it than is proper for a boy who has matriculated to know. Only an officer could win the Pour le Mérite. And at that, it was quite exceptional for an officer of middle-class origin to receive it.

In that closed society, every man existed only by virtue of his origin. The man who lacked this origin, and university degrees into the bargain, could not dream of becoming a Minister, for example, except by the short-cut of Social Democracy.

The view that suppression of these discriminations would be harmful to authority proved to be without foundation. A competent man always has the authority he needs. A man who is not superior by his talent invariably lacks authority, whatever his job may be.