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Category: Poetry

Categories
Autobiography Friedrich Nietzsche Poetry

Crusade

against the Cross, 16

Can a book like Thus Spake Zarathustra, which I have heard of being recommended to high school kids to read, be a good book for our sacred words? I would say that if the System recommends it, it cannot be a good book, even though it sometimes says things so beautiful and profound that it is possible to quote it tersely.

In general, I don’t like Zarathustra for the same reason that I don’t like Mein Kampf: it cannot be read with the intensity of a novel that itches you to know the ending. For a book to be truly a work of art it is vital not only for its content to be germane but how it has been put together. While the content of the three volumes of The Gulag Archipelago is important, very few will read the trilogy because it is boring. It needed an editor to condense it into one, with Solzhenitsyn’s approval (as happened in real life), to make it both vital and aesthetic. Only then could I read it as if it was a highly entertaining novel! But it is still worth saying something about the book that would make Nietzsche famous.

This soul in sorrow was pregnant with ideas, pregnant with the sun (his Zarathustra begins with a hymn to the sun) and he gave birth to what he himself called ‘my son Zarathustra’. The eruption of feelings that motivated him to write, at the time of Richard Wagner’s death (Nietzsche sent a letter of condolence to Cosima), must be understood as the resolution of an intellectual crisis.

I never tire of repeating that his father and both his grandfathers were Lutherans; that his paternal grandfather was a Superintendent, the equivalent of a bishop, and that as a child Nietzsche was intensely pious. As he grew up, the hermit of Sils-Maria burst out of this iron pietism: a supernova-like explosion of feelings repressed during his upbringing, releasing the vital energy once locked up.

His translator, Hollingdale, makes a sharp observation about Nietzsche’s previous books. From the one he wrote on Schopenhauer onwards, they all led him to scepticism, not unlike the nihilism in vogue in the 19th century. This is one of the problems that contemporary racialists have detected: the loss of Christian faith doesn’t translate into, say, a scientific vision like those texts of Charles Darwin where he said that blacks, now considered an obsolete race of Homo sapiens, were to be exterminated. Instead, apostasy leads either to atheistic hyper-Christianity—the opposite of Darwin: negrolatry!—or to the nihilistic liberalism we complain so much about in the West’s darkest hour. In Nietzsche’s spiritual odyssey all his books, Hollingdale said, from the second of his Untimely Meditations to The Gay Science, he reached the end of the road: not axiological hyper-Christianity but nihilism. If Nietzsche had stayed there, let’s say as the typical 19th-century freethinker who so angered Wagner, he wouldn’t have gone down in the history of the great philosophers.

But he didn’t stay there. The pietistic armour that had imprisoned his spirit in a torment like that of the iron maiden had to fly into a thousand pieces. And this intellectual crisis gave birth to the religious figure of Zarathustra: a process begun in August 1881 when Nietzsche was assailed by the thought of the eternal return. It was then that he began to devise his philosophy of Amor fati without realising that, rather than in an iron maiden, he was locked in a sort of Russian doll. He blew up the first iron shell, yes: but he didn’t realise that it, in turn, was wrapped in another shell, insofar as Amor fati was but the post-theistic phase of ‘Thy will be done’, i.e. the phase without a personal god. In other words, with what Nietzsche calls in Zarathustra his ‘abysmal thinking’ we see that he was still a victim of the ogre of the pietistic superego.

To his astonishment, after having deluded himself that he would go to Bayreuth to ingratiate himself with all his old friends (remember the letter to his sister: ‘I no longer want to be alone and wish to learn to be a man again’), with Lou’s refusal he suddenly found himself on square one: alone. It is not surprising that Zarathustra begins with a hermit who wants to return to his village only to be mocked by the people, and has to return to his cave. The worst thing is that Nietzsche was to stay that way, alone, from the end of 1882 to the beginning of 1883.

In January of the latter year came the furious eruption: something which in my soliloquies I call the vindication of Id. Nietzsche underwent an inner transformation similar to those who suffer from colour blindness and are given special glasses so that they can see colours for the first time in their lives: they burst into tears. The tremendous eruption of feelings, thanks to which he was able to write the first part of Zarathustra, feelings so suppressed not only in Schulpforta but in the dense intergenerational atmosphere of clerics, would continue, later on, with the second and third parts: the latter even in a state of greater euphoria—the culmination of the book!—written in January 1884. The overman, the death of God, the will to power, Amor fati, the eternal return, the great noon: these were the intense colours that Nietzsche could at last see, so vivid that he couldn’t interrupt the weeping (by way of anticlimax, he would write the fourth part of Zarathustra at the end of 1884).

But the unconscious eruption of the central ideas of the Zarathustra had already been coming, as Hollingdale detectively surmised, from the earliest years of his life, albeit distorted and unrecognisably. Can you see, as I said to Thankmar this morning, why I try to protect myself from religious aggression (even horribler than Nietzsche’s Lutheran home) in a healthy way, instead of wayward defence mechanisms?

One of the reasons I generally dislike the book is that it suffers from the poets’ secrets that require the most erudite exegesis to unravel. For example, Werner Ross claims that the passage in Zarathustra that begins with ‘I saw his woman’ and then speaks of a ‘doll up lie’ and that ‘every time a saint and a goose mate’, when checked against Nietzsche’s letters he deduces that Elisabeth was the goose and Lou the doll up lie! And the same can be said of an important figure in Zarathustra: Ariadne. It is only thanks, years later, to the letters of madness that we discover that Ariadne was none other than Cosima Wagner! Why not state things clearly from the beginning, with the real names, as I do in my autobiography, instead of such esoteric circumlocutions that only the author understands?

In Thus Spake Zarathustra we see that Nietzsche’s alter ego didn’t offer his philosophy indiscriminately. First, he spoke to all the people gathered in the marketplace. But the death of God—the central theme of the first part—and the will to power are ideas that Zarathustra announces only to his disciples. And of the eternal return Zarathustra speaks exclusively to himself. Similarly, some chapters are narrative, others have a doctrinal character, and others of a lyrical nature represent the pinnacle of the work: oratory turned into music (a dozen years earlier Baudelaire had already created a new genre: poetic prose). Although in the second part of the book the central theme is the will to power, the final chapter of that part already brings to the fore, in a sinister manner, the revelation of the eternal return.

When studying the Zarathustra the reader must always bear in mind that the book is intended to be a shadow of the Lutheran translation of the Bible, known to Nietzsche in detail from the early years of his life, including Luther’s syntactical construction.

Zarathustra speaks again and again of the tablets of the law to be broken—Nietzsche even asked his publisher to put a black bar on each page to represent his new tablets of the law! The mixture of the biographical account of Zarathustra with doctrinal sentences was copied by Nietzsche from the Christian gospels, and it is not surprising that he wanted to elevate his Zarathustra to the status of holy scripture. In my humble opinion, writing a parable of his spiritual odyssey rather than a vindictive autobiography, with all the repudiation of the family that in the next century I would begin to write, was a preamble to the breakdown that had already been foreshadowed. In fact, this whole period from August 1881 to December 1888 may be regarded as the genesis of the wayward defence mechanism which, in January 1889, would burn out the mind of the alienated philosopher.

Moreover, the light we occasionally see in Zarathustra is not a light of dawn. It is a mere lightning light at midnight. It illuminates everything but only for a fraction of a second. Then the thickest darkness returns. But I would like to mention a snapshot of what the lightning illuminated.

After Kalki, the surviving Aryan will realise that the immeasurable universe wasn’t designed to visit it as the mad earthling of the 20th and 21st century fantasised, but to know himself to the extent of knowing the universe and the Gods. In the trillions of galaxies each intelligent species stays at home, on its own planet, given the impossibility of crossing those billions of light-years of distance with manned devices—a pointless enterprise because the men we would leave behind would remain forever inaccessible. These are the words I like best from Zarathustra: I love those who do not first seek behind the stars for a reason to go under and be a sacrifice, but who sacrifice themselves for the earth, that the earth may some day become the overman’s.

Hitler also said that over-humanity could only be achieved by the Aryan on Earth…

In the 1880s only Peter Gast, the enemy of the Church, became a kneeling apostle, and about Zarathustra he wrote to his mentor something the latter loved: ‘Of this book one must wish to spread it like the Bible’. Gast was unaware that this was impossible insofar as Nietzsche’s was an artificial religion; a true religion, as Savitri Devi tells us, comes into being only when it arises spontaneously from the collective unconscious (like National Socialism).

Nietzsche’s Zarathustrian defence mechanism was very similar to my own. When in the 1980s, a century after Nietzsche’s mental agony, I tried to exorcise my parental introjects I fell into the greatest hells because I didn’t yet realise—as Nietzsche’s Amor fati—that the mechanism I elaborated was also a kind of neo-theology inspired by New Testament stories. I have spoken at length about this in the last chapter of my Hojas Susurrantes and need not summarise it here.

When Nietzsche was buried, his friends surrounded his grave and recited some of Zarathustra’s poems.

Categories
Free speech / association Poetry

Censoring Pound

In the middle of last month, I mentioned a letter I found in my late father’s belongings from a guy who fought against the Germans in WWII and even described some battles to him. That post even contains links to my scans of those missives.

At midnight I made a different, in a sense opposite, find also in my father’s belongings: a book by Uwe Frisch about the German musician Gerhart Müench (1907-1988) who emigrated to Mexico in 1953. [1]

Müench was my mother’s piano teacher. We can even see him giving her a lesson at the National Conservatory of Music of Mexico City for 25 seconds in this video from 1970.

Müench, born in Dresden, was a real scholar, and not only in music. What impressed me about Frisch’s little book, which doesn’t even have a spine, are its last pages (44-45): it collects a poem by Ezra Pound dedicated to his friend Gerhart.

Given that Frisch wrote the book in Spanish (where among other things he translated from German an essay by Müench) now that I wanted to read the original in English of the poem Pound dedicated to Müench, I came across a surprise. The core part of the poem is missing in the PDFs I saw on the internet!

It is very annoying to retranslate a poet into his original language because one lacks the original text. I don’t know if it was deliberately censored, but the part of Pound’s poem that I didn’t find on the internet today is precisely the part that mentions ‘hellfire’ and ‘the fiery river of Hades’ that became ‘Dresden’ because of the Allied bombing, and Pound mentions Gerhart by name in that city ‘while a fiery sky still pours…’

Pound thus speaks of the Hellstorm Holocaust in Dresden, which may be why he was censored in some editions of his book. But his original English words may have been different from the ones I put in inverted commas, as I now retranslate it from my Spanish booklet into the original language.

If there are Pound fans who have an edition of The Cantos where this poem appears uncensored, it would be nice if he came across this post and quoted in English the lines I highlighted in orange on the second page. Both of my parents used to mention Müench in their conversations. Before I discovered Frisch’s booklet I was unaware that he was born in Dresden.
________

[1] Uwe Frisch: Gerhart Müench o De la Poética y la Metafísica de un Compositor (Morelia: Instituto Michoacano de la Cultura, 1985).

Categories
Poetry

A poem

by Benjamin

Threnody for the murder of our race’s finest

(Poem for the German war-dead)

 
An axle snapping and the wheeling Sun

Hurtles to ruptured earth in mired woe

A hubless dusk of shrouded barbary

The soot and scrap of wild, inhuman glee

And cruellest weapons of perfidious foe

For blackest glory, in vile paucity

Jeering chthonic as the desert’s beasts

Shunting tin eyes across a bleeding sea

In all the monstrous discord of the East

Draped in fresh wounding pelts and rips of skin

Charge hollered hands to soil their very kin

The blind dominion of gilt-toothed priests

And this new screaming of each mother’s child

The primal bonds of deepest love defiled

Made great in all their strength, brave all the while

And joy is rent, the ages’ chain is cut

Through ruddy slabs long doom’s nailed jaws clang shut

And innocents besmirched by alien guile

Hell-wrought oblations, civil-suited muck

Blared fireworks and business-hasty smiles

And little deaths by millions and by miles.

Categories
Aryan beauty Beauty Leonardo da Vinci Nature Painting Poetry

On the series ‘European beauty’

In the 17th photograph of our ‘European beauty’ series, which I uploaded to this site today, we see a mountain backdrop in northern Italy (see my exchange yesterday about the locations that the photos represent). That Italian mountain may well have inspired Leonardo da Vinci for some of his drawings of the Holy Family, or the Annunciation with mountains in the background. It was a time when artists were almost compelled to paint pictures with religious motifs, although the angel of the Annunciation, beyond the Nordic and the hyperborean, is the absolute opposite of any Semitic profile. These are the antecedents of the nymphs that Parrish painted last century against the background of majestic mountains.

In the 18th and 19th centuries, when artists became independent of the patronage of the Church, they were finally able to admire the mountains and Aryan beauty from a more secular viewpoint. On a mountain excursion in 1739 the poet Thomas Gray, visiting the Grande Chartreuse, wrote: ‘Not a precipice, not a torrent, not a cliff, but is pregnant with religion and beauty’.

More famous for admiring nature were Goethe and poets like Coleridge and Wordsworth, and in painting Turner came to capture more abstractly the vital spirit of nature. While Constable painted the plains the poet Wordsworth was more associated with the mountains. I confess that Wordsworth’s leisurely, long solo walks in the English countryside prompted me to ask about prices for houses in Perth when I visited Scotland because that town was perfect for my long solo walks. Of course, it was only a fantasy as I have no money in the bank. Still, I cherished the idea of moving to a place where I could feel European Nature without interference from Gomorrah.

The inhabitants of Gomorrah may believe that by going to the gym they’ll be healthy, ignoring that a healthy body can only inhabit a healthy mind. It can only be obtained through the spirit of romantic poets and painters who understood, through their art, what Hitler would later understand through pantheism. The Aryan dissident who feels like Lot in Gomorrah and cannot afford a cosy cottage in the countryside should undertake the study of art in the solitude of his room, though unlike what Catholic Kenneth Clark told us, from the panentheist point of view.

This is one of the tremendous deficits of American white nationalism. Without the feeling of the numinous, it is impossible to awaken what Jung called the Self, as the full understanding of beauty is the royal road to a true racial awakening.

Categories
Poetry Souvenirs et réflexions d'une aryenne (book) Technology Tree Welfare of animals

Reflections of an Aryan woman, 90

It is again verses of Leconte de Lisle—that nostalgic singer of all the beauties destroyed by the inexorable march of Time—that come back to my memory when I think of ‘this worm weaker than the grasses’ of the ancient Forest, but strong in the omnipotence of its intelligence dedicated to the work of disintegration, the diabolical work (‘in reverse’ of the ideal order). The poet addresses the Forest, which seemed to last forever, and says:

Like a swarm of ants on a journey,
That one crushes and burns, yet still they march,
The floods will bring the king of the last days to you;
The destroyer of woods, the man with the pale face. [1]

Words that are only too true but if the White Man was indeed, until the middle of the 20th century, the ruthless destroyer of the forest as well as of the fauna—the massacrer of forty million bison in North America—, and who emptied North Africa and the former Asia of their lions, and India of most of its tigers and leopards, the Negro’ and the swarthy man of every hue, have, with grim enthusiasm, hastened to follow suit and pursue, with a neophyte’s relentlessness, the war of man against tree and animal.

They put themselves in the service of the White Man not necessarily and not always Aryan, and believed his lies, accepted his money, and assisted him in the work of destruction. They killed for him the elephants whose ivory he traded; hunted or trapped the big cats, whose magnificent skins he wanted. And, imbued with the anthropocentrism newly learned in his schools, and proud to possess at least some of his techniques, they continued the butchery after he had grown weary of it—even after belated remorse or awakening of his sense of self-interest had prompted him to ‘protect’ endangered species from now on.

It is all mankind that is guilty of the usurpation of the soil at the expense of the forest and its ancient inhabitants—all except the few individuals or groups, always in the minority, who have protested against it all their lives, and proved, by everything they have said, written or done that they had taken a stand for the animal and for the tree against man, of whatever race he might be.

At the root of this indefinite usurpation is, without doubt, technology, which is, it must be admitted, the most inferior but an expression nonetheless of Aryan genius. Even in Roman times, when unfortunate wild animals were captured by the hundreds and thousands, to be sent to their deaths in circuses, the massacre of African, Asian (and European) fauna[2] never reached the proportions it was destined to reach in our time thanks to modern methods of hunting, and in particular to firearms.

But technology in all its forms, including this one, has developed only as an advantageous—sometimes the only possible—solution to the problems of survival of increasingly compact masses of men. It is only beyond a certain numerical limit that man, of whatever race, becomes a scourge to all that lives on the land he inhabits—and if he is of one of the inferior races (generally, alas, the most fertile), a dangerous rival to the nobler races: a veritable plague, in every respect.

_____________

[1] Leconte de Lisle, ‘La Forêt Vierge’, (Poèmes Barbares).

[2] And American. It is impossible here not to refer to the slaughter of seals, especially seal pups, so atrocious that many of our contemporaries themselves have been outraged.

Categories
August Kubizek Metaphysics of race / sex Poetry Souvenirs et réflexions d'une aryenne (book)

Reflections of an Aryan woman, 67

If we now ask ourselves what influence, apart from that of Wagner’s music and the less immediate but still living influence of the Swastika, could have helped the young Adolf to acquire so early the power to transcend space and time in this way, we are immediately led to think of his only childhood love: the beautiful Stephanie, with her heavy blond braids wrapped around her head like a soft, shiny crown[1]; Stephanie to whom he never dared to speak because he had ‘not been introduced to her’ [2] but who had become in his eyes ‘the female counterpart of his own person’.[3]

August Kubizek insists on the exclusivity of this very special love: the ‘ideal’ plane on which he always remained. He tells us that the young Adolf, who identified Stephanie with the Elsa of Lohengrin and ‘other heroine figures of the Wagnerian repertoire’[4] didn’t feel the slightest need to talk or hear her, as he was sure that ‘intuition was enough for the mutual understanding of people out of the ordinary’. He was satisfied to watch her pass by from afar; to love her from afar as a vision from another world.

______ 卐 ______

 
Editor’s note: Is the image I chose for the front cover of The Fair Race finally understood (a girl I met decades ago, and who I talk about in my last book)?
 

______ 卐 ______

 
Once, however, on a beautiful Sunday in June, something unforgettable happened. He saw her, as always, at his mother’s side, in a parade of flower floats. She was holding a bouquet of poppies, cornflowers and daisies: the same flowers under which her float disappeared. She was approaching. He had never looked at her so closely, and she had never seemed more beautiful. He was, says Kubizek, ‘delighted with the earth’. [5]
 

______ 卐 ______

 
Editor’s note: From the pen of Spanish Romanticist poet Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer (1836-1870):

Hoy la tierra y los cielos me sonríen,
Hoy llega al fondo de mi alma el sol,
Hoy la he visto…, la he visto y me ha mirado,
¡Hoy creo en Dios!

Terry Rooney’s translation:

Today heaven and earth smile upon me
Today the sun reaches the depths of my soul
Today I saw her… I saw her and she looked at me,
Today I believe in God!
 

______ 卐 ______

 

Then the girl’s bright eyes rested on him for a moment. She smiled carelessly at him in the festive atmosphere of that sunny Sunday, took a flower from her bouquet and tossed it to him.[6] And the witness to this scene adds that ‘never again’—not even when he saw him again in 1940, in the aftermath of the French campaign, at the height of his glory—did he see Adolf Hitler ‘happier’.

But even then, the future Führer did nothing to get closer to Stephanie. His Platonic love remained like that, ‘weeks, months, years’. Not only did he no longer expect anything from the girl after the gesture I have just recalled, but ‘any initiative she might have taken beyond the rigid framework of convention would have destroyed the image he had of her in his heart’.[7]

When one remembers what role the ‘Lady of his thoughts’ played in the life and spiritual development of the medieval knight—who could also be, though not necessarily, a figure we just caught a glimpse of, even some distant princess, whose beauty and virtues the devoted knight knew only by hearsay—and when we know, moreover, what deep links existed between the Orders of Chivalry and hermetic teaching, that is to say initiatory—one cannot help but connect the dots.

August Kubizek assures us that, at least during the years he lived in Vienna with him, the future Führer didn’t once respond to the solicitations of women, didn’t associate with any of them, didn’t approach any of them although he was ‘bodily and sexually quite normal’.[8] And he tells us that the beloved image of the woman who, in his eyes, ‘embodied the ideal German woman’ would have supported him in this deliberate refusal of any carnal adventure.

It is instructive to note the reason for this refusal, which Kubizek reports in all simplicity misunderstanding the implications of his childhood friend’s words. Adolf Hitler wanted, he tells us, to keep within himself, ‘pure and undiminished’ [9] what he called ‘the flame of Life’, in other words, the vital force. ‘A single moment of inattention, and this sacred flame is extinguished for ever’—at least for a long time—he wrote, showing us the value the future Führer attached to it. He tries, unsuccessfully, to elucidate what it is. He sees in it only the symbol of the ‘holy love’ that awakens between people who have kept themselves pure in body and spirit, and who ‘is worthy of a union destined to give the people a healthy offspring.’ [10] The preservation of this ‘flame’ was to be, he wrote, ‘the most important task’[11] of that ‘ideal state’ which the future founder of the Third German Reich thought of in his lonely hours.

This is undoubtedly true. But there is more to it than that.

__________

[1] The name Stephanie evokes the idea of a crown (Stephanos, in Greek).
[2] Kubizek, p. 88.
[3] Ibid. (‘die weibliche Entsprechung der eigenen Person’).
[4] Ibid., page 78.
[5] Ibid.
[6] Ibid., page 84.
[7] Ibid., page 87.
[8] Ibid., page 276.
[9] page 280.
[10] Ibid.
[11] Ibid.

Categories
Buddhism Democracy Deranged altruism Hinduism Indo-European heritage Miscegenation Poetry Racial right Racial studies Souvenirs et réflexions d'une aryenne (book) Third Reich

Reflections of an Aryan woman, 2

Chapter II—False nations and true racism

‘We have to distinguish between the state as a vessel and the race as the content. This vessel only makes sense if it is able to preserve and protect its contents; otherwise it is worthless’.

—Adolf Hitler (Mein Kampf, 1935 edition, page 434)

Do not forget that it is considerations of race which distinguish a real people from a collectivity of men which does not deserve the name.

Such communities can be very different from each other. There are states where the population is a deeply mixed mass, where specimens of ‘pure’ appearance, if there are any, have children who do not resemble them; where children of the same family, who nevertheless seems ethnically homogeneous, are different races: one Negroid, the other Mediterranean, or almost, the third, marked with strong Amerindian characteristics. These are states, not peoples. There is, for example, a Brazilian state. There is a population (multiracial, and without segregation laws) who inhabit Brazil. There are no Brazilian people—nor, therefore, a Brazilian ‘nation’.

There are, on the other hand, states whose populations are made up of several peoples juxtaposed, but not fused together. This is the case of the United States of America [Editor’s note: Remember that this was written in the late 1960s], the Union of South Africa, Rhodesia, the Soviet Union, and India. It is by an abuse of language that one gives to the general population of any one of these States, the name of ‘people’ or of ‘nation’. There is, in fact, no natural link, no biological link, between an ‘American citizen’ of Anglo-Saxon, Irish or Mediterranean origin, and another ‘American citizen’ Negro or mestizo, or Jew…

Moreover, in the USA, as in the so-called ‘racist’ states of Rhodesia and South Africa, and more, Aryans and Negroes belong to the same Christian churches; are Methodists, Anglicans, Lutherans, Catholics or ‘Jehovah’s Witnesses’, as the case may be, but always without distinction of race. Since the realm of the true Christian is not of this world, biological considerations cannot be included…

If, favoured by the diffusion of a uniform way of life as well as of a common ‘knowledge’, and especially of self-distant common anti-racist ‘values’, the gangrene of interbreeding is gradually gaining the entire population, it is, for this, the irremediable decadence: the end of all culture, the end of all disinterested creation, that is to say of any activity other than that which consists in ‘producing’ always more, in order to acquire more and more material well-being. If, on the contrary, it is the healthy tendency of each race to remain separate from the others that prevails, the population will retain its heterogeneity. It will not become ‘a people’—much less a ‘nation’. It will remain what it is, namely a juxtaposition of two or more races living in harmony with each other to the extent that their primary diversity is recognised and accepted. [Editor’s note: Again, writing in the 60s, Savitri ignored that that is impossible in the long run.]

The Union of South Africa, so decried by anti-Hitlerites around the world for its so-called ‘racism’, is not such a multiracial state, or only very incompletely, despite its official program of ‘separate development of races’. It is only very incompletely so because, just like Rhodesia which, for its part, denies exalting racism, and like the USA which, despite the continued resistance of its segregationists, is fighting it, it confuses, as I said earlier, ‘Aryan’ and ‘White’. [Editor’s Note: Living in Mexico I can say that the few Jews I have come to know are phenotypically white, sometimes completely indistinguishable from real Aryans except for their last names (see e.g., here). This means that from now on I will use the terms ‘Aryan’ and ‘White’ as Savitri used them; being the ‘Aryans’ those whites who don’t have Jewish blood, though many Ashkenazi Jews are white: something that Richard Spencer has acknowledged in one of his recent podcasts.]

Far, for example, from removing the Jews from key positions in the country and, in general, from any profession in the exercise of which they are likely to acquire political or cultural influence, it gives them, because of their colour alone, all the advantages enjoyed by the ‘Whites’, advantages that she refuses to the Aryans of Asia, however illogical that is, and that, even if, like most Brahmans and many ‘Khatris’ of Punjab, they are fair complexion. Crossbreeding between Aryans and Jews is not prohibited in the so-called racist Union of South Africa—any more than it is elsewhere. It has never been so in any country of Christian population, if the Jew—or the Jewess—had, by baptism, been received into the religious community of her partner. He was so only in the Third German Reich, a State whose true religion was that of Blood and Soil—and, it is again, since 1955, in the State of Israel, whose people believe themselves, to the exclusion of everything else, ‘chosen of God’.

It is true that wherever there are two or more human races, whose nations all or almost all adhere to a centred religion, like Christianity, in the long run a tendency of interbreeding emerges. All true racism implies the negation of the dogma of the immense value of ‘man’ whoever he may be; the negation of the ‘apart’ character of man, and his integration into all other living species; the negation of the legal equality of ‘souls’ as well as of men’s bodies.

______ 卐 ______

 
I will now tell you about India, so that you can once again be proud to be Aryan.

To understand the history of the peoples who inhabit this vast portion of the continent—which includes, in fact, in addition to the current ‘Indian Republic’, the two ‘Pakistans’[i] and the island of Ceylon; a surface, in all, equal to that of Europe minus Russia—you must refer to the distant time when the first Aryan tribes, coming from the North, descended in successive waves on the Pays-des-Sept-Rivières (the Sapta Sindhu of the Sanskrit Scriptures) by the famous Pass of Khaïber, the Voie des Couquérants.

It was, according to Bal Gangadhar Tilak, commonly called Lokamanya[ii] Tilak; this Brahmin of Maharashtra, both scholar and mathematician, who demonstrated it by astronomical considerations—before the fourth millennium before the Christian era, therefore at the time of the very first Egyptian dynasties, several centuries before the construction of the pyramids of Giza; at the time when, in Mesopotamia, the Sumerian civilisation flourished in its oldest centres: in Erech, in Nippur, in Eridu, some fifteen hundred years before Sargon of Akkad. And the Aryas—which, in Sanskrit, means ‘those who command’, in other words, the men of the race of the lords—came, still according to Tilak, from the far North. They were the brothers of those who, closer to the common cradle of the race, were one day to be called the Germans, the Hellenes, the Latins, and whose languages presented deep similarities with theirs. Their ancestors had lived beyond the Arctic Circle, at a time when the lands of this region still enjoyed a temperate climate—that is to say before the axis of our planet tilted further; twenty-three degrees. They had awaited in worship the return of the Sun—the victory of the Day after the long nights streaked with aurora borealis—and they had sung the splendour of the sky and venerated the stars (the ‘brilliant’ or ‘Devas’) which did not go to bed.

During the centuries that they had taken to cover, in stages, the immense distance which separated them from the divine arctic homeland, the Aryas had preserved some of these hymns. Their bards had composed others, and soon, during the gradual conquest of the hot lands, where to improvise new ones. For a very long time transmitted from mouth to mouth, 1009 of these poems—finally written—have come down to us. The whole constitutes the Rig Veda: the oldest sacred text in India, which pious Brahmans still chant today.

The Aryas were a few thousand—perhaps, over time, a few tens of thousands—in front of all these hostile peoples and tribes, which they called Dasyus, or dwellers of the woods, or the Rakshasas or demons. It is possible that they found, already in force in the society of Harappa and Mohenjo-Daro, a hereditary system of a division of labour. But it was they who gave such a system, if it existed, racial significance, and classified the population of India into immutable castes. They could not do otherwise if they wanted to preserve their physical and moral characteristics for their Aryan race, in other words, if they wanted to survive.

They probably began by mixing freely, if not with the Aborigines at least with the Dravidians, technically more advanced than them until they grasped, in all its tragic horror, the danger of interbreeding. It was then that the caste system was formed: the division of the population of the Indies into a minority of dwijas or twice-born Arya (because they had to know this ‘second birth’ which the spiritual initiation represents), and an immense majority of Shudras, people with dark skin, intended for servile work. At the bottom of the scale—out of all caste—were rejected the Negroids, Negro-Mongoloids and people of the Munda type: the oldest inhabitants of Indian soil. The ‘twice-born’ shared power. Spiritual authority was henceforth the privilege of the Brahmans; temporal power, that of the Kshatriyas; and this power which already gave, in a society much less attached than ours to material goods, wealth, born of commerce, the prerogative of the Vaishyas.

Disinterested scientific knowledge and above all spiritual knowledge was reserved for the Aryas, and very soon only for the Brahmans and Kshatriyas. It was unthinkable that a young Soudra, even exceptionally gifted—and all the more reason a Chandala, below any caste—were taught the supreme truths, or that he was taught to recite, even that recited before him the most beautiful invocations to the Devas or the most powerful ritual formulas. Frightful penalties awaited those who would have dared to transgress this defence, and those in favour of whom, it would have been transgressed.

Since then, many things have happened, many transformations have upset Indian society, like all societies. In spite of everything, forbidden unions took place; children were born whose parents did not belong to the same caste…

One could photograph and classify specimens of all both racial and professional groups in India. We would thus obtain a huge collection of types gradually going from Negroid or even Australoid to pure Aryan—an Aryan often purer than the majority of his brethren in Europe (at least in Southern Europe). There is maybe, very light, with brown or gray eyes (exceptionally blue or blue-green), hair ranging from black to reddish brown, with perfectly Indo-European features. It is little, one will say. This is a lot if we remember that at least sixty centuries separate the present day from the time when the first Aryan tribes emerged from the Khyber Pass.

In any case, the facts that I have just recalled here clearly show that the Indies are no more ‘a people’ than are the United States of America, the Soviet Union or the South African Union.

But there is a difference: while in each of these countries a common dogmatic faith, the dissemination of which is encouraged—and a clearly anti-racist faith, or one concerning the other world and indifferent to racial issues, let it be it is Marxism or any form of Christianity whatsoever—tends, in spite of everything, to bring the races together; constitutes, in any case, a permanent brake on the instinct of segregation, in India, it is the opposite which occurs. There the religious tradition itself proclaims the congenital inequality of ‘souls’ as well as of bodies, and the natural hierarchy of races, dominated by the Aryan race—in exactly the same spirit as Hitlerism—and thus encourages segregation.

Over the centuries, we have tried, either in the name of a philosophy denying Life, or in the name of ‘practical necessities’, to kill this racist tradition. We did not succeed. Buddhism referred its followers to monastic life, but had in practice as a result of mixing the castes without causing the extinction of the human species. He ended up being swept from India. Guru Govinda Singh, the founder of the Sikh warrior sect, had wanted to take his followers from all castes, claiming to take into account only the individual worth of each man. But this concern for combative efficiency, this requirement for essentially Aryan qualities such as the spirit of sacrifice, the sense of responsibility, the joyful acceptance of discipline, even a very hard one, etc., have resulted in it being mostly Hindus from Aryan castes who came to him. One only has to look at the Sikhs to see it. No Government of the present ‘Indian Republic’ will succeed where Guru Govinda Singh and, centuries before him, the Buddha himself, failed…

In other words, India will never be ‘a nation’. Nor will they—hopefully at least—be ethnic chaos without a racial elite: the caste system, even with its current weaknesses, will save them from such a fate. They will remain an association of peoples and races, united by the only common civilisation which is in accord with their natural hierarchy. Because Hinduism is more than a religion in the sense in which we hear this word today in the West. It is a civilisation; a civilisation dominated by Aryan racism, made acceptable to many non-Aryan races, thanks to the dogma of karma and the transmigration of souls.

If one day Hitlerism succeeded in conquering Europe, it seems to me almost certain that over the following centuries the mentality of the average European would come closer and closer to that of the Orthodox Hindu of any caste. I will tell you, as an illustration of this, an episode from my life in India.

It was during the glorious year—1940—shortly after the start of the French campaign. I was living in Calcutta—unfortunately, despite my best efforts, I had not managed to return to Europe in time. And I had a young servant named Khudiram, a fifteen year old teenager, Shudra, from the Mahishya sub-caste (West Bengal farming community), very dark skinned, with slightly slanted eyes, with a flat face—not Aryan at all!—and perfectly illiterate. One morning, coming back from the fish market (where he went every day to buy something to feed the cats) this boy said to me triumphantly: ‘Mem Saheb, I worship your Führer, and wish with all my heart that he wins the war!’

I was speechless. ‘Khudiram’, I said, ‘do you worship him only because you know, like everyone else, that he is victorious? You don’t know anything about the story of his life and his actions’.

‘It may be’, the teenager replied, ‘that I’m just ignorant. But this morning I got to know a grown-up at the market who is at least twenty years old and can read. And he told me that your Führer is fighting, in Europe, in order to root out the Bible, which he wants to replace with the Bhagavad-Gita’.

I was speechless again. I thought, in the blink of an eye: ‘The Führer would be very surprised if he knew how to interpret his doctrine in the Halls of Calcutta!’ Then I recalled a passage from Song I of the Bhagavad-Gîta, as I knew it in the beautiful translation of Eugène Burnouf: ‘From the corruption of women proceeds the confusion of castes—therefore of races. From the confusion of castes comes the loss of memory; from the loss of memory comes the loss of understanding, and of it all evils’.[iii] And I thought, What else has Adolf Hitler done, but repeat these eternal words, and act according to their mind?

I said to Khudiram: ‘The ‘great’ you speak of was right. Repeat what he taught you to anyone who wants to hear you. I give you a day off for this purpose—and a rupee to pay for a cup of tea for your friends. Go, and use your freedom for a good Cause!’

The kid, very happy, was about to leave the kitchen where this interview had taken place. I couldn’t help but hold him back for a moment and ask him what made him so enthusiastically want this ‘New Order’ which, however, hardly favoured people of his race. ‘Do you know, Khudiram’, I said to him, ‘that to replace the Bible with the Bhagavad-Gita in distant Europe and in all the countries which come under its influence, would be equivalent to extending to practically the whole earth a caste system parallel to that of the Indies? And do you know that as Shudra you wouldn’t have any chance of promotion in my Führer’s New Order? And do you love him despite that?’

I will never forget the teenager’s response—the response of the non-Aryan masses in India, loyal to a racist Tradition that goes beyond them, from the mouth of an illiterate youth: ‘Certainly I know that. I want your Führer to win because the order he tries to establish wherever he can is in accordance with the spirit of the Shastras; because it is the divine order; the true order. No matter what place he gives me, to me! I am nothing; I do not count. It’s the truth that counts. If I was born into a very humble caste, it is because I deserved it. I have faulted, and seriously, in my past lives. If, in this life, I remain faithful to the rules of my caste: if I do not eat prohibited foods; if I marry a girl among those that are allowed to me, and do not desire any of the others, I will be reborn a little higher in the scale of beings. And if I persevere, from life to life, in the path of purity, who knows? One day—in many centuries—perhaps I will be reborn as a Brahmin? Or among these new Aryas of Europe who also worship your Führer?’

In successive waves, descended the Khaïber Pass. The child of the Tropics paid homage to them after sixty centuries. And I thought of my German comrades—my brothers in the Hitlerite faith—whose armored divisions then followed each other along the roads of France. The child of the Tropics paid homage to them too, because their faith is the modern expression of the Aryan Tradition of always.

______ 卐 ______

 
England’s real crime against India is not to have exploited the soil and the people on an unprecedented scale, but was to have inculcated into the heads of thousands of Hindus of higher castes, anti-racialist democratic principles, anti-traditionalist principles, along with an ominous humanitarianism when not an out-and-out anthropocentrism; and finally to have introduced into the administration of that vast sub-continent such measures as tended to promote the least valuable racial elements of the population.

The whole system was conceived in order to take away from the Hindus, in general, and especially from the high-caste Hindus—i.e., from the Aryan elite of India—every scrap of political power, already within the more and more ‘Indianised’ administration that the British were setting up themselves, before their departure, which they had felt was unavoidable. It was enforced by the authority without appeal of the colonial power. One could not change it. One only could, from an Aryan racialist standpoint, try to limit the mischief that would result out of its applications. And in order to do that, one had to act as though one accepted the absurd principle of the ‘right’ of any majority to power, regardless of its value, simply because it represents the greatest numbers and strive to make the Hindus a majority at the expense of other communities. (Editor’s note: With their obsession with JQ, white nationalists have been blinded to seeing the beam in their own eye – in this case, the egalitarianism imposed on this colony of the British Empire.)

One therefore had to try to give to the most backward of the most degenerate of Aborigines—to the half-savages of the hills of Assam—a (false) Hindu consciousness. One had to bring them to proclaim themselves ‘Hindus’, sincerely, by telling them how tolerant Hinduism is, but by forgetting to mention the caste system that it upholds. One had to try to bring (or rather bring back) the Indian Christian or Muslim (both, as a rule, sprung from low-caste Hindus converted to one of the two foreign creeds) to Hinduism. And for that one had to surmount the repugnance of most Hindus to accept them, for never yet had Hinduism taken back into its fold anyone who had left it or had been expelled from it (and declared Untouchable). One could fall out of one’s caste and land into Untouchable. One could not re-enter it. But one had to change that, if power was not to pass entirely into the hands of the non-Aryan majority of the population of India. For alone could a (false) nationalism—a European style nationalism, necessarily false in the case of any multiracial society—bring about the change and unite the Hindus under a no less false parliamentary system imposed up in them against their tradition, and against the Aryan Tradition, of which their elite had remained up till then the sole depositary.

I was then employed as a lecturer and as a ‘missionary of Hinduism’ by the ‘Hindu Mission’, a half-religious, half-political organisation which, for more than thirty years already, had been striving to recover from Hinduism all those who were (or whose fathers were) out of it, for whatever reason. Full of bitterness towards historical Christianity because of the role it played in the West—ardent admirer of Emperor Julian and Hypatia, no less than of Wittekind—I once introduced myself to the President of the Mission, Swami Satyananda. I had offered my services to him. He asked me what attracted me to India, and I quoted him, translating them into Bengali:

Rama, Daçarathide honoured with the Brahmans,
You whose blood is pure, You whose body is white,
Said Lakshmana, hi, sparkling tamer
Of all the profane races! [iv]

I had told him that I was Hitlerist and Pagan—still regretting the conversion, by snatch or by force, of my native Europe to the religion of Paul of Tarsus—and that I wanted to work to prevent the one and last country to have kept (in part at least) the Aryan Gods—India—from following the bad example of the West and from falling, too, under the spiritual influence of the Jews. I told him I wanted to help make India our ally, in the fight against false ‘values’.

He had accepted me and given me full freedom of expression provided that he told me, I place myself, in my speeches to crowds, ‘from the Hindu point of view’ and that I ‘take into account the particular circumstances from the country’. ‘I consider’, he added, ‘Your Master as an Incarnation of Vishnu, an expression of the divine Force which preserves what deserves to be preserved. And his disciples are in my eyes our spiritual brothers. But you will have to make concessions here, at least as long as the English are there; otherwise you will not be able to compete with the propaganda of Christian missionaries who preach “man”, regardless of race. Think about it!’

I had to ‘think about it’! No appeal to a mass, and especially to a multiracial mass, is possible without certain compromises. We could not ask the Shudras (or the Untouchables) converted to religions of equality, to come out and reintegrate Hinduism, without giving them the impression that they would lose none of their acquired ‘rights’…

The English administration, antiracist in principle (despite a racial segregation limited to worldly relations, and which did not apply to Jews, moreover) made no difference between a Brahmin, Indo-European by blood and mentality, and the last of the Nagas or Koukis of Assam, especially if the latter represented in the Assembly either the Christians or the ‘shudra castes’, that is to say the Untouchables, of his province. It was not my fault if she had this attitude, and if she tended to ‘Indianise’ as much as she could the legislative bodies and the public services, in this spirit that was other than that of decadent Europe; of that Europe which would soon reject Hitler’s renaissance with the stupid vehemence we know.

______ 卐 ______

 
If we had won the war, India—that she would have remained ‘British’, which is unlikely, despite the Führer’s desire (before the war) not to touch the British colonial empire—or that it had become independent—would have very quickly got rid of the democratic reforms introduced by the English and would have returned to its immemorial tradition: to the Tradition of the Aryas…

I have often wondered to what extent the few Englishmen who seriously wanted their country’s collaboration with the German Reich—those Englishmen who were, almost all, from the start of World War II, interned ‘preventively’ in the name of the Law 18 B, realised the magnitude of the transformation this would have brought about, and the repercussions it would have on the future of their people and the world. I knew one well—Elwyn Wright, physically and mentally, one of the most beautiful specimens of Aryan that I have met—who was aware of it, and who wanted this collaboration precisely because of that. But how many were there like him?…

One of the tragedies of our time is that, taken en masse, it is the enemies of Hitlerism, and in particular the Jews, and intelligent Christians, who have understood this best. They hated him, no doubt; but they detested him precisely for what makes him greatness and eternity: for his scale of values, centred not on ‘man’, but on life; for its possibility of becoming very quickly—once associated with rites—a real religion. They hated him because they felt, more or less confusedly—and sometimes very clearly—that his victory would mean the end of everything that, for at least two thousand years (if not two thousand and four hundred), the Western world has known and loved; the negation of the values which, for so long, helped him to live.

It should be noted that at least one of the most brilliant French collaborators—and one of those who paid with their life for their friendship for regenerated Germany—Robert Brasillach, himself was aware of the character essentially ‘Pagan’, from Hitler mysticism. He collaborated with Germany despite this; not because of it. And he has on several occasions, in particular in his novel Les Sept Couleurs, underlined the impression of disorientation, of somewhat frightening strangeness, which he felt in his neighbours across the Rhine, in spite of all the weather. Admiration he had for their rebirth, both political and social. ‘It is’, he writes, speaking of Adolf Hitler’s Germany, ‘a strange country, further from us than the most distant India or China, a pagan country’…

Among the French collaborators as well as among the English 18 B’s I have only met very few people who are sincerely Hitlerites, although they are aware of the philosophical implications of Hitlerism. I will say more: there were, even at the time of the greatest glory of the Third Reich, very few true Hitlerites among the millions of Germans who acclaimed the Führer. One of the purest that I have had the joy and the honour of knowing—the Oberregierungs-und Schulrat Heinrich Blume—told me in 1953 that the number of Germans who had given themselves entirely to the Movement knowing fully this they were doing, never exceeded three hundred thousand. We are far from the ninety-eight and a half percent of the voters of the Reich, who had brought the Führer to power! The vast majority of these had voted for the reconstruction of the German economy and the regeneration of the social body, not for the return to the fundamental truths of life and for the ‘fight against time’ that Hitlerism involved, and of which they did not even realise. (Editor’s note: This explains why the Allied denazification process was so easy.)

Even more: there are Germans who—like Hermann Rauschning, the author of the book Hitler Told Me—withdrew from the Movement as soon as they realised the pagan character of Hitler’s Weltanschauung. And it should be noted that they did not realise this until they had gained the Führer’s confidence enough for him to admit them into his small circle of insiders or partially insiders. For there was a difference between the teaching given to the people in general and that which the disciples received; a difference, not in content, but in clarity. For example, Point 24 of the famous ‘Twenty-five Points’ specifies that the Party, while proclaiming the widest religious tolerance, sticks to a ‘positive Christianity’—in other words, to there is something ‘positive’, that is to say true, in conformity with tradition, in historical Christianity—but that it condemns and combats any religion or philosophy ‘which shocks the moral sense of the Germanic race, or which is dangerous to the State’.[v] He (no doubt deliberately) omits to recall that any religion which turns its back on the realities of this world, and in particular on the biological realities, to the point of allowing the marriage of people of different races, provided they are members of the same ‘church’, as well as any religion or philosophy who exalts ‘the man’, even deficient, even to the last degree of physical or moral (or physical and moral) degradation, can only be a public danger, in the National Socialist State.

The Führer defends himself in Mein Kampf from aiming in the least at religious reform. ‘It is criminal’, he writes, ‘to try to destroy the faith accepted by the people, ‘as long as there is nothing that can replace it’.[vi] He further writes that the mission of the National Socialist Movement ‘does not consist of religious reform, but of a political reorganisation of the German people’.[vii] But what he does not write—what he could not write in a book intended for the great mass of a people Christianised since the ninth century and believing himself, at least for the most part, to be Christian—is that any regime based, as was the National Socialist regime, on the negation of the intrinsic value of everything man, regardless of his race and his individual worth, is necessarily the antithesis of a Christian social order. Because every Christian society has for principle the respect of ‘the human being’ created, whatever it is, ‘to the image and likeness’ of a transcendent and personal God, essentially a friend of man. What Adolf Hitler could not tell the masses is that any political regime based on a doctrine centred on Life and its eternal laws necessarily has a more-than-political meaning. His own success depended on the voice of the masses, because we must not forget that he took power ‘legally’, that is to say ‘democratically’.

This more-than-political significance of Hitlerism, only in Germany fully grasped the Führer himself and the National Socialist elite: the initiates of the Thüle-Gesellschaft; the teachers and the best pupils of the Ordensburgen, where the members of the SS were formed. The mass of the people did not feel it, and would have been astonished, if someone had shown it to them, with all its implications; if, for example, someone had made him understand that Christianity and Hitlerism are two different and incompatible paths, open to the Eternal, and that the same person cannot follow both, but must choose. (Editor’s note: Therefore, white nationalists have chosen evil.)

Outside of Germany—and outside of India, of Aryan tradition—a thinking elite loved or feared or hated Hitlerism because of its true nature. The Jewish elite cursed him for reasons far more profound than the secular secret hostility which opposed Israel to the Germanic world. The enormous mass of men from all countries—indifferent to ‘politics’—feared him without knowing exactly why, in reality because they vaguely felt in him the negation of all anthropocentrism; the ‘Starry Space Wisdom’ (as I have called it myself) as opposed to ‘the love of man’ and the concern for his happiness, in this world or in another.

_______________

[i] This was written before East Bengal ceased to be called ‘Pakistan’, to become ‘Bangladesh’, which simply means ‘Bengal’.

[ii] ‘Honoured with men’.

[iii] Bhagawad-Gîta, I, verses 41 and following.

[iv] Leconte de Lisle (The Arc of Çiva; Ancient Poems).

[v] ‘Wir fordern die Freiheit Aller religiösen Bekenntnissen im Staat, solang sie nicht dessen Bestand gefährden oder gegen das Sittlichkeits—und Moralgefühl der germanischen Rasse verstoßen’.

[vi] Adolf Hitler, Mein Kampf German edition 1935, pages 293-294.

[ [vii] Adolf Hitler, Ibid, page 379.

Categories
Poetry

You win or you die

‘You Win or You Die’ is the seventh episode of the first season of the HBO medieval fantasy television series Game of Thrones. The implausible blunders on the part of the most honourable people surrounding the death of King Robert are outrageous to see even if it is only fiction: e.g., a document without witnesses about the succession signed by the sick king on his bed. But worst of all, Ned doesn’t know that the Lannisters will make sure that Joffrey, Robert’s supposed son, is the immediate heir independently of the king’s will.

There is some truth to this whole story of the Starks from the north, who fare badly when they travel south. The Northmen don’t smell the tricks of the Southerners, just as the pure Aryans don’t smell the Mediterranean ways, especially of the Semites.

As night fell Ned was warned by Renly, the dying king’s brother, that Cercei Lannister would not care about King Robert’s last written will. Ned responds that he isn’t going to pre-empt an alleged Lannister coup by dragging frightened children from their beds, referring to Joffrey: the future teenage king who, in a couple more episodes, would have Ned Stark beheaded! This ninth-episode spoiler is worth mentioning now because that’s how, in the real world, white people with very different honour codes reason compared to people from the South, and I mean the real world, not this television series.

Back to the seventh episode. Ned had a second chance when Littlefinger also proposed a pre-emptive strike to the coup that the Lannisters could forge. But blind to his honourable Northman code Ned is unable to see what’s happening, and that he may be betrayed at any time by those who he trusts when the succession to the Iron Throne is in suspense.

But I don’t want to tell about the pathetic way this episode ends for Ned and the welfare of the Seven Kingdoms because I prefer to focus on something more important from the point of view of genuine spirituality. I mean the vows that Jon Snow and Sam Tarly take on the other side of the Wall.

In the novel there is a more numinous environment than what we see in this seventh episode. Martin’s prose reveals nine weirwood trees, all with carved faces, that is, heart trees. A heart tree is a weirwood tree that has a face carved into the wood of the trunk. Heart trees are sacred in the religion of the Old Gods of the Forest, the closest thing to a shrine that the old, dying religion still possesses. Jon is astonished to see the spectacle of these nine trees as he has never seen so many weirwoods together south of the Wall, let alone heart trees. It’s the first time in his life that he has crossed the wall. But we are now in the lands on the north side of the Wall where, long before, magic flourished before the arrival of the bearers of a new religion.

Let us remember that the heart tree is the symbol of this site, and instead of quoting what Jon and Sam said in the episode when kneeling before one of them, and reciting the oath that makes them members of the Night’s Watch (a military order which holds and guards the Wall to keep the wildlings from crossing into the Seven Kingdoms), I prefer to quote some lines that do not come from Martin’s pen:

Nicht in kalten Marmorsteinen,
Nicht in Tempeln, dumpf und tot:
In den frischen Eichenhainen
Webt und rauscht der deutsche Gott.

Not in cold marble stones,
Not in temples dull and dead:
In the fresh oak groves
Weaves and rustles the German god.

Categories
Aryan beauty Blacks Feminism Film Poetry

Winter is coming

‘Winter Is Coming’ is the premiere of the HBO medieval fantasy television series Game of Thrones.

When in years past the comment threads were open on this site I noticed that one of my topics that didn’t attract attention was Game of Thrones (A Game of Thrones, which English-Spanish translation I have near where I write, is the first novel of George R.R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire). But it must be understood that in my childhood, after seeing Kubrick’s best film, I wanted to be a film director (that was a few years before a family tragedy that would destroy several lives).

In my books I say that when I was a child Warner Bros. offered my father a job so he could go to work in the United States. My father declined the offer and sentenced me to live in a country other than my own. But I was left with the desire to have been a director and the only thing I can do now is film criticism. Of course, as a director I would have handled Martin’s novels in a very different way compared to the way the pair of Jews who produced and directed the HBO series did. For example, Martin’s feminism was exacerbated by David Benioff and Daniel B. Weiss, known to fans as D&D. I would have decreased it as much as possible.

In this series of criticising each episode of Game of Thrones that I’m starting with this post we must bear in mind that I am more critical of the toxic fandom made up of whites than the script that D&D developed. The author of the video we recently transcribed for this site on toxic fandom said elsewhere that Arya Stark was the most mishandled character of all Game of Thrones seasons. I would add that this speaks very badly of the fandom of whites who complained a lot about the finale but never about what D&D did with Arya.

Only in the first episode of the HBO series does Arya appear as she must have appeared throughout both Martin’s novels and the television series: a girl being educated in embroidery and weaving and confined to the home of a feudal lord. Not only the normies don’t want this ‘transvaluation of values’ on how to educate women today. Even many white nationalists don’t reject feminism with the vehemence that every Aryan male should (the masculinisation of the white woman is directly proportional to the feminisation of the white man).

In that same opening episode, shortly after showing Arya in her embroidery and knitting classes with other girls, we see her little brother Bran Stark trying to get a good shot at target shooting. Bran does it very badly and, from behind, Arya, who is even younger than him, hits the target with her bow and arrow thus humiliating her little brother.

That is the first bad message of Game of Thrones. As we have already said on this site, Hollywood is portraying female warriors as faster than men. The reality is that women are slower and generally inferior to us in both physical and intellectual sports (see what I said last December about chess).

It is very important to criticise the white fans of the series for not being outraged by such reversals of reality, from the very first episode. White nationalism limits itself to blaming Hollywood Jews as if whites, in this case the toxic fandom, weren’t equally guilty of greedily consuming those products without criticising them.

When the king of the seven kingdoms, Robert Baratheon and his royal court, arrive in Winterfell and the Starks receive them, Arya contemplates them with a helmet (in its place that little girl would have had to wear a hood). When Arya arrives with her reunited family about to receive the king, Ned, her father, immediately removes her helmet. In the historical medieval world, not in these mad films that demoralise the Aryan man, little girls didn’t want to become soldiers throwing away all of their femininity, much less a blue-blooded girl like Arya Stark.

In sharp contrast, the dialogue between King Robert and Ned Stark in the crypts is very realistic and very masculine. Voices like this are no longer heard in the West, not even among its supposed defenders. This is how we men used to speak: as Robert Baratheon spoke in the crypt when paying his respects to Ned’s late sister Lyanna Stark, with whom he had been in love.

Across the narrow sea in Essos the blond prince Viserys Targaryen forces his sister, Daenerys, to marry a Dothraki warlord, the non-white Drogo. Viserys thus fantasises about conquering Westeros and claiming the Iron Throne for the Targaryen House that Robert had destroyed. (In Martin’s universe the Targaryens were known for their incredible hyper-Nordic beauty, and I think the producers of the show should have chosen more beautiful actors to play the roles of Viserys and Daenerys.) Viserys says something horrible to his blonde sister: that in his quest to regain the throne for his house he would even allow the forty thousand horses of the swarthy Dothraki to mount her. It’s a terrible message because, despite medieval barbarism, I don’t think blond princes treated their princesses like that in real history.

Later we see an uninhibited King Robert dancing, kissing and groping a fat commoner during the evening feast in the great hall of Winterfell in front of Cersei Lannister, his wife and queen. But that’s nothing compared to the wedding between the blonde and the swarthy warlord on the other side of the narrow sea. If the white fans of Game of Thrones were good people they would have rebelled from this moment on. But as we know from the recommended readings in the sticky post, they are the worst generation of whites since prehistory.

But the superiority of the white race cannot be hidden visually, not even with Jewish directors. There is, in this premiere, a short scene that puts Daenerys side by side with black and mulatto women before she was deflowered by Drogo. I mean Daenerys’ walk in the direction of her white mare that Drogo gave her as a gift on their wedding day. The seventh art perfectly portrays the infinite superiority of a white woman over dark people.

The brief scene reminded me of a tale by Nicaraguan poet Rubén Darío (1867-1916), who contrasted a white girl eating grapes with the swarthy people who surrounded her here in Latin America: Y sobre aquel fondo de hollín y carbón, sus hombros delicados y tersos que estaban desnudos, hacían resaltar su bello color de lis, con un casi impenetrable tono dorado (‘And against that background of soot and coal, was the beautiful lily colour, with an almost impenetrable golden hue of her naked and delicate smooth shoulders’).

Categories
Horace Poetry

Horace quote

A man is blessed who, free from any business deals,
As were the mortal race of old,
With his own oxen works among ancestral fields,
Free from debts of any sort,
He hears no martial trumpet calling him to war
Nor fears to face the angry sea,
And he avoids the forum and the haughty gates
Of influential citizens.