‘What is happening now is a civil war within Christianity: a civil war between factions’ (traditional Christians and atheist hyperchristians) Holland says after minute 10. ‘The Woke movement is a Pelagian movement’ he added almost four minutes after in contrast to Augustine’s theology.
For a casual viewer, it would seem that the conversation between these three pundits was a conversation between people who share the views of this site, The West’s Darkest Hour, were it not for the fact that after the 15th minute the non-white Konstantin said that they were all happy living in the liberal world of modern times.
Never mind the POV of these three. As I said in the recent PDF, I’m appropriating Holland’s insights for what I call the sacred words (I’ve done something similar before with Lloyd deMause’s psychohistorical legacy, as my Day of Wrath readers know).
The only annoying thing in the interview is the commercial, but after the 42nd minute Holland says something I suspected: that the (psychopathological) condition Britain finds itself in today is due to its old Puritan roots. That is to say, in this age its atheist offspring have become, axiologically, hyperchristians: which also explains what’s happening in the US. And almost at minute 46 Holland explains why Anglo-American culture is virtually the opposite of what I might call our culture: abducting the Sabine women to found a new Republican Rome (values have been reversed by a misguided Christian sense of compassion).
‘We’ve forgotten,’ says Holland, ‘the theological underpinnings’ of why we do what we do today. Before the 49th minute Holland joked with a question answering another question from Konstantin: What would happen if Westerners realised that the great awokening they are suffering has Christian roots? He answered: ‘What’s so wrong about the Nazis?’ And already after the 51st minute Holland added that today’s anti-Nazism is still Christian considering the amplifying progressive spiral. Nonetheless, at minute 57 Holland reveals his colours: despite his tremendous insight into what is happening he likes to see Confederate statues removed from parks.
On the first of this month I commented on an interview that a liberal dude with his hair painted blue did this year with Richard Spencer. Sometimes you need to have the patience to watch such things just to probe what is wrong not only with today’s liberals, but with the racial right. Exactly the same can be said of those who complain about the Woke monster and who, at least for now, YouTube allows them to air their grievances. The best known are people like Ben Shapiro, Jordan Peterson and Matt Walsh for the latter’s documentary What’s a Woman? But other voices are interesting to listen to because all these people don’t realise that they themselves are involved in the genesis of Wokism.
Yesterday I watched a YouTube conversation between a homosexual Englishman, Andrew Doyle, and the American Peter Boghossian.
If we take into account what Tom Holland says in Dominion (for those who don’t want to read the whole book I have highlighted some crucial sentences in bold), which resonates with what Alexis de Tocqueville predicted of the US (that the principle of equality always demands more and more equality), I find it incredible that these people don’t see the elephant in their room.
Doyle for example, who looks like an individual with a higher than average IQ and who has a broad literary and European culture, twice or three times mentioned the Nazis repeating the eternal slogans of our time (and he errs in saying that David Irving is a holocaust denier in his books). While Doyle acknowledged that Woke people don’t understand art and that Greek and Renaissance statuary is superb, he said that our age has moved beyond the way the ancient Greeks treated women (i.e., he tacitly endorsed the feminism of our age). Doyle doesn’t like Huckleberry Finn being taken off library shelves for its racist language, but he believes that today’s West has moved beyond the racial prejudices of the past. I could cite more double-think examples, but the talk between homo and hetero is rife with such things.
But what Peter Boghossian, the straight American, does is a thousand times worse than what the homo said. At the beginning of the conversation I was unaware that Boghossian, a well-known figure in the circle of critics of trans activism, had adopted a Chinese baby. That kind of behaviour is what I have called on this site the sin against the holy spirit of life: an unforgivable sin. (At least the English homo is not causing irreparable damage to the next generation with cuckoldry-like behaviour: raising a child of a foreign race!)
What can be learned from the surreal conversation between the homo and the hetero? While Christian racialists are also scared of the Woke monster, none of them has the slightest insight. To Christian racialists I would remind a passage from gentile David Skrbina quoted in the Neo-Christianity PDF linked above, a few words I highlighted in bold: ‘You Gentile Christians don’t even know what you’re worshipping—which in fact is us [Jews]’. That is: conservatives are afraid of the monster but fail to realise that they fed the monster until it finally grew up. It originated like a mustard seed with Paul’s letters and now the tree is so huge that even birds nest among its branches not because of Jewish subversion, but because whites have given themselves over to evil by believing the Jews who wrote the Bible. Indeed, Holland’s book shows how the seedbed of Christianity grew into the baobab that, following that metaphor from Saint-Exupéry’s book, grew to burst the planet of the little prince.
In the conversation embedded above, the homo and the hetero agree that the Woke tolerate no debate. But do they, the homo and the hetero tolerate it with people to their right, say questioning anti-racism, feminism and the anti-Nazi narrative of the time (e.g., here)? And what about today’s racialists: are they capable of responding to Skrbina or Holland? At least Kevin MacDonald reviewed the former’s book, but the strength of my latest PDF shows how the egalitarian virus of Christianity mutated into the super-egalitarian virus of neo-Christianity (Holland’s book).
Kevin MacDonald published an article by Tom Sunic the day before yesterday which contains this paragraph:
But even authors complaining about legal duplicity regarding the narrative of Jewish victimhood are seldom consistent. Many of them believe in good faith in the immaculate conception of Virgin Mary and various surreal miracles performed by Jesus and his early Jewish disciples. They would never consider their faith in Jesus a myth, let alone, a hoax, a fraud, or a conspiracy theory. They reject the claims by anti-Christian authors “that Jesus was a deliberately constructed myth, by a specific group of people with a specific end in mind,” as David Skrbina wrote recently.
I’m glad that at least one of the leading white nationalist forums is passing the microphone to someone who says things similar to what we say here.
My previous post contains a link to the confession when an honest student of the New Testament, Richard Miller, saw the light. I would now like to suggest that honest Christians watch the whole interview.
Of course, it is only an invitation to begin to cross the psychological Rubicon, but a baby step in the right direction is satisfying for the moment (the big jump, from 5 to 6, as we saw in ‘The Mauritian steps’ is to leave Christian morality behind).
For Christians, long before breaking with Christian morality one has to break with Christian dogma, and the honest New Testament studies that have been published recently (Richard Miller’s book is just the latest) give me some hope.
I had promised myself I would never see anything of Richard Spencer again after he sided with NATO when it started the war in Ukraine. But today I decided to watch a long interview with the new Richard Spencer after his apparent ideological transformation.
In the interview you can guess the causes of his apparent transformation, although you have to listen between the lines: he simply realised that he has to speak from more liberal platforms to be heard (otherwise he will be cancelled).
Spencer says things that resonate with The West’s Darkest Hour. For example, he says that the figure of Jesus on the cross carries a potent message to the West’s collective unconscious, which cannot be contrasted more with the figure of Apollo: a healthy archetype for the Aryan psyche. On this we seem to be in complete agreement, with the difference that the anti-Christianity of this site is far more vehement than Spencer’s anti-Christianity. (This is elemental: Christianity destroyed my life, not Spencer’s, as any reader who dares to read my tortuous autobiography will know.)
Something else Spencer says we have said in entries so important that two of them can be accessed at the top of this page, in red letters. For example, what Spencer calls ‘the empty doughnut’: a negative way for today’s West to define itself as anti-Hitlerian par excellence. That is just what the author of ‘Foundation myth’ says in other words. And what Spencer calls narrative, story or platonic lie that should replace the old story (Christianity’s god is dead) is exactly what I wrote in ‘The iron throne’.
So ideologically Spencer and I are not that far apart. In fact, I would love to put together a show similar to the one above in which I could talk not only to Spencer but to the most well-known people on the American racial right. I would have to do it with a simultaneous translator because I refuse to talk about deep issues in English. On very deep issues, I need my mother tongue.
The funny thing is that except for what Spencer said about Biden near the beginning of the interview, we don’t disagree on basic principles. It’s just the order of magnitude of my fanaticism on which we differ. In short, Spencer says he’s very radical but only the exterminationist is really radical—say, the William Pierce who wrote The Turner Diaries or the Pierce who, in Who We Are, posited how whites should have acted to circumvent today’s sorry state of affairs.
Update of June 2
At any event, I fell infinitely more at home with Tom Metzger and James Mason in this old interview.
‘If you want to use the System to change the System’ (Metzger) ‘you are fooling yourself’ (Mason): something that the apparently transformed Spencer won’t understand.
Shortly afterwards in the interview Mason singles out the US government as the enemy. Compare this with Spencer’s words that Biden is the best president in recent years! And by the end Mason quotes Solzhenytsin: ‘Don’t be part of the lie’ as the number one commandment. This is a commandment that the so-called new Spencer can’t keep.
Everyone waited anxiously for Siegfried to explain the valkyrie’s accusation, but the hero stated emphatically:
“I swear that what Brunhild says is false!”
So saying, he gave his arm to Gutrune, and the two lovers made their way to the palace, followed by a court of ladies and gentlemen.
On the terrace stood Hagen, Gunther and Brunhild.
Gunther looked dazed. His eyes questioned his half-brother, who had remained unmoved until then, and Hagen thought it was time to strike the decisive blow against the hero. He approached Brunhild and whispered in her ear:
“If you trust me, you can have your revenge.”
“You don’t know who he is. You can never harm him.”
“I am not ignorant of his courage and strength, but he will have some weaknesses.”
“He is invulnerable from the front. Only from behind can he be hurt; but he never turns his back on the enemy.”
The feast lasted all night. Great bonfires were lit, and the time passed with singing, shouts of joy, and libations of wine and mead in honour of Siegfried and Gutrune.
At dawn, Hagen organised the hunt according to his sinister plan. He would kill Siegfried from behind and claim that the hero’s death had been caused by a wild boar’s lunge.
The morning was cold. The air was dry and biting. The Rhine looked like a broad silver ribbon in the pale light of dawn.
The hunting party set off into the forest, preceded by the eagerly running dog tracks, tracking the prey.
Siegfried led the way. As soon as he saw the silhouette of a bear he broke away from the group and ran in pursuit of the beast with his bow drawn, ready to shoot the flying arrow. He passed through thickly wooded areas in pursuit of the bear, and after a strenuous march, he found himself back on the river bank. He sat down to rest and watched the eddies formed by the current as it crashed against the rocks. Suddenly the hero saw a blonde hair emerge from one of the reefs. It was Flosshilde, one of the Rhine’s daughters, who began to swim facing the rising sun. After a few moments, Siegfried heard the voice of the undine calling to her sisters:
“Come, the sun is up, its rays are warm! Come out, sisters, from the bottom of the river, which no longer has the gleam of gold since it was taken from us!”
The group of undines then emerged from the bottom of the father Rhine, and their hair looked like rivers of gold on the silvery waters.
Siegfried gazed at them in rapt attention, and to attract their attention he sounded his hunting horn.
“Welcome the hero!” cried Flosshilde.
“Let him come to the shore!” cried Woglinde.
“Let him give us back the ring!” added Wellgunde.
So said the daughters of the Rhine, as they swam towards the shore.
“Are you the ones who hid the bear I was chasing? When it reached the river, the bear disappeared as if by magic.”
The undines made their noisy laughter heard. They mocked the hero.
“What reward will we get if we give you back your prey?”
“I have nothing to offer you. I never carry anything with me.”
“What about the ring that glitters on your finger?” Wellgunde boldly suggested?
“Yes, that’s right! Give us the ring on your hand!” repeated the Rhine’s daughters in chorus.
“To get the ring,” answered Siegfried, “I had to face a terrible dragon.”
“How could you steal it?”
“I did not steal it. I took it from him.”
“We don’t believe you, Siegfried. It is no easy thing to snatch a ring from a terrible dragon.”
“True: it was not easy for me. The struggle was tremendous. More than once I thought I would succumb: but I finally defeated him, and now his body lies at the entrance to his horrible cavern.”
“How? Did you slay the dragon?”
“Yes, it was the only way to get hold of the ring.”
“Oh! And did you touch its blood?”
“Yes, I dipped my lips in it; that’s why I understand the language of the bird of the forest.”
“Poor Siegfried!”
“Unhappy hero!”
“What fate awaits you!”
So said the undines, pitying the sad end that awaited the invincible hero. The latter did not understand their lamentations and asked:
“Ah, you want to trick me into getting rid of it!”
“It is true what we say! That ring was made with the gold that Alberich stole from us. When it was stolen from him, the Nibelung put a curse on anyone who came into possession of it. You snatched it from the dragon; well, you must get rid of it before the misfortune that hangs over your head threatens to cut the thread of your life.”
Hearing the story and the threat contained in the tremendous prophecy, Siegfried was irritated. Unfamiliar with fear, it was not easy to make him believe in misfortunes near or far and in dangers present or future. Rather, he believed that all the chatter of the undines was intended to convince him to part with the ring forged from the gold of the Rhine, stolen from his sister nymphs.
He stood arrogantly on the rock and replied to the three swimmers:
“Your prophecy does not frighten me. I will never part with the ring.”
“Reflect, Siegfried! Our prophecy will be fulfilled. The ring brings misfortune. Throw it into the waves. The river-father will thus regain the gold that was taken from him, and you will be able to ward off the curse.”
“I have fought the dread dragon for the jewel; I have broken the spear of a god with the sword that I tempered myself; so shall I win and come out victorious from the plot of fate.”
“Pride blinds you, Siegfried. You are an invincible hero, you have broken the spear of Wotan; but you cannot escape your destiny, which is preparing a fateful end for you.”
“The dragon also spoke to me thus, but I cut off his talk with the edge of my sword. In the same way, I shall be able to defend myself against my enemies.”
“Is this your last word, and shall we return to the sad depths, orphaned of the gleam with which the gold that was taken from us illumined it?”
“Neither flattery nor threats, neither augury nor doom, can determine me to give you back the ring that shines in my hand. That is my will.”
In the face of this unexpected refusal, the undines, saddened, decided to sink once more into the waters of father Rhine. Before disappearing, they sang, in a sorrowful voice, a song that sounded to the hero’s ears like the prelude to a funeral march:
Fate has woven the web
from which no one can escape;
not even the hardest heroes
its iron meshes can break.
Thou, Siegfried, hast tempered a sword,
and with it you slew the dragon;
but the ring that is in thy hand
carries with it a curse.
The day is at hand
for the death that awaits you.
Soon your body will be ashes
in the flames of high fire.
Siegfried listened for a long time to the chorus of the Rhine daughters, until the voices were drowned out by the muffled murmur of the river waves.
Suddenly there came the echoes of hunting horns. The hero then decided to re-join his companions. He went back into the forest and, guided by the sound of the horns, came to a clearing in the jungle, where the other hunters were waiting for him. He was greeted with shouts of joy and cordial words, which ceased when they realised that he had returned without having taken any game.
“You don’t have any prey?” asked Hagen, approaching him with mock friendliness.
“No, I can’t add to the morning’s haul. Perhaps I shall have better luck in the afternoon’s raid.”
“Tell us something of your life, Siegfried,” said one of the hunters.
“Tell us, tell us!” insisted the crafty Hagen, while prince Gunther made a gesture of displeasure. He knew that his half-brother was trying to make the hero talk to learn all his secrets.
Siegfried noticed that everyone was interested in his story and began to narrate. His memory was slowly clearing as the effects of the brew prepared by Hagen, which the hero had drunk the day before, mixed with the wine that Gutrune had offered him, were wearing off.
“I was born in the cave of a dwarf of the Nibelung stock, named Mime. He raised me with great care and taught me the art of metal smelting and steel tempering. He planned to make me strong and brave so that I could face the dragon of the forest. That dragon was the custodian of this ring and a magic helmet. When I reached the age when I could accomplish the task, Mime gave me two pieces of a sword. This had been my father’s; only with it, I could defeat the terrible dragon.
”The dwarf had tried many times in vain to put the two pieces together. When I had succeeded in remaking and tempering my father’s sword, Mime took me into the forest and pointed out the cavern where the ring and the helmet were. It was a hard fight with the dragon that guarded it.
”At last, I killed it, and my hand was bathed in its blood. As I brought it unwillingly to my lips, I had the impression that it increased the power of my senses. I realised that I understood the language of a forest bird. This bird guided me for a whole day through the forest. When we reached the foot of a high rock, it told me to climb to the top. In the middle of the path, a passerby stood in my way and tried to stop me. He blocked my way, but with a blow of my sword, I smashed his mighty spear to pieces. To reach the top I had to pass through a ring of fire, in the middle of which lay a sleeping maiden.”
Siegfried stopped again. A dense fog again obscured the panorama of his memories. Hagen then malignantly inquired:
“Did you wake the sleeper?”
“Not at once. I gazed at her for a long time. I took off her helmet. I kissed her on the forehead…”
“And you made her your wife, didn’t you?” insisted Hagen.
“Yes, I made her my wife and entrusted her with the ring when I left. But now I see that it must all have been a dream because the ring is still shining on my finger. I don’t understand! I don’t remember!”
“You didn’t come back after your departure? You didn’t take it off by force?”
“Yes! I remember now that I took it off violently. But why? Yes, yes, Brunhild is my wife! She is still waiting for me on the rock; I’m going to look for her!”
Remembering the name of his beloved, Siegfried set out at once. After a few steps, he thought he heard the voice of the forest bird. He stopped to listen, and at that moment Hagen approached him, wielding his javelin. With a mighty thrust, he hurled it at the hero’s back, and he fell like an oak cut down by lightning.
“Farewell, Brunhild!” were Siegfried’s last words.
Editor’s Note:
So the original story ends in tragedy, not drama, like Tolkien’s tale, published about a hundred years after Wagner began writing his tragedy.
‘Frodo’ (who in Tolkien’s tale looked about thirty years old; not the teenager that Peter Jackson filmed for an increasingly infantilised white audience) doesn’t throw the ring. The hero keeps it, with fatal consequences not only for himself but for all his kindred, as we shall see tomorrow.
(Remember that the music we hear in the clip above, Siegfried’s death and the funeral march by the end of Götterdämmerung, was played by the Nazis just after Hitler died. It was a sign of the dark blackness that would cover not only Germany, but the entire West.)
